The citizen. (Honesdale, Pa.) 1908-1914, 1913-02-18

blaZed trail through tangled for
est with wild cats and painters
screaching at the heels of the home
goer. This was pioneer days in Da-
mascus. We could furnish names
of men who were chased to their
own door by those savage beasts of
the forests. The advent of Israel
Tyler to this village started new
activities. For many years he was
the nucleus of industries that, with
his exodus, is, like the progenitor,
a thing of local history only. One
of those industries was the making
of blocks for saddles, or saddle trees
as they were called These found
ready sale while the civil war last
ed. His substantial mansion is now
owned by E. T. Oliver and the farm
was transferred to Thomas Griffith.
Even before the establishment of
postoffice, Tyler Hill, in honor of
the Tylers, was the chosen name of
the village. That neat little cottage
there is the home of John S. Oliver
once the leading house carpenter in
all this section, now retired, and
here at the foot of the hill was the
home of the late John Y. Tyler, a
direct descendent of a Revolution
ary soldier. The place is now oc-
cupied by his son George.
Now, if you have kept sharp
count you have found this to be the
second descent since we left the Del
aware, and three long steep ascents.
Over there on the hillside is the
cider mill of N. B. Alfast and here
is his well-appointed home. Mr.. AL
| fast and family are now sojourning
! in Los Angeles, Cal. Now for anoth-
er of those long climbs, and here
we land on a table land 1900 feet
above the tide level. Turn and look
back toward the east. Is 1t not
grand? This is the Laurel Lake
House and there is beautiful Laurel
Lake. Nearly 100 acres of spring
water on the crest of hill. Is it not
wonderful! You might call it one
monstrous spring of waters. 1t was
here that Colonel VIM. Doughty set
tied long ago on Government
grant. Only a speck of the original
farm remains.
A scud over a half mile level and
we are at the home of the late John
Jackson, now owned by his son, Will
liam, and worked by the latter's son
Thomas. Now look around you.
Perhaps no finer landscape view
may be had from any point of view
in Wayne county. To the right in
yonder depression is another body
of spring water with about half the
area of the one just passed. Two
such magnificent lakes only a few
rods apart and at such an altitude!
We do not wonder that your eyes
are dilated. 1t certainly is marvel
Gus. All that is needed to make it
vie with the Yellowstone National
Park is a little hot hole and we
may be assured of that if we get To-
cal option.
That attractive building at our
left is the home of B. c. Ross, an
old Delaware river pilot. Rushing
onward over a rolling stretch of
road we pass the West Damascus
post office, up short stiff grade and
we are on an apex. Down we start
on long western slope and We are
soon in a valley where flows the
North Branch of the Calkin creek,
near. it's head waters. On a promi-
nence in front is the large farm and
substantial buildings of L. G.. Sch
weighofer, and here is the Vast Da-
mascus public school. A quarter of
a mile farther we pass over a space
VI lSNSl IOCh SSNSIdl IOuS lOuS vi
Cork Screw hill. From this we are
soon at the base of Four Story Hill.
Now for our final climb. Here is the
home of Otto Rutledge; that new
house is the home of John Gillis and
up there as grand final on
the peak of this gigantic eminence
stands the home of James Blair.
Surely he is the most elevated man
on our trip. Passing a few rods on
ward we are at the home of T. A.
Brooks and only a few rods farther
we halt on the dividing line between
Damascus and Lebanon townships.
On our trip we have made seven
ascensions, crossed seven streams
made three descents and traversed
about nine miles of as hilly high
way as there is in Damascus town
ship. 1t is said this Newburgh
turnpike was laid out on the gin
system, that is, the surveyors were
offered drink of gin on top ot
of every hill, and that they built a
fire on top of a hill, at night and
blazed streak to it. 1t certainly
takes the cake for its number oi
hills.