A fall of water tempted families into the lumber trade.
A hostelry crowned the ridge, St. Johnsbury House, kept by a hard drinking and harder fighting Captain Barney, who made the rafters crack with his jokes, and the hill-side noisy with his quarrels.
St. Johnsbury, peopled by whisky-loving Scots, was anything but a sober place under Captain Barney's rule.
Yet life was dull and progress slow, till Thadeus Fairbanks, improver of the platform scale, gave the impetus which has made St. Johnsburg one of the most curious spots in the United States.
St. Johnsbury is a garden, yet the physical beauty of the place is less engaging than the moral ord.
An American poet of another mind has sung:
If ere I kneel me down to pray
My face shall turn towards St. Peray.
But such a poet would persuade no man to follow his lead on Sleepers' Creek.
Though lodging in the rooms which echoed to the mirth of Captain Barney, we are now the votaries of a severer saint than St. Peray.
to see the benefits of our rule.
The men who formerly drank the most, are now the staunchest friends of our reform.
These men, who used to dress in rags, are growing rich.
Many of them live in their own houses.
They all attend church, and send their boys and girls to school.
Such facts are not to be suppressed by shrugs and sneers.
It is an easy thing to sneer, and some unconscious comedy turns up at every corner to provoke a laugh.
Oblige me, I entreat the sober successor of Captain Barney, when going to bed, with a glass of soda-water.
Sorry, Sir, we have no soda water in the house.
Then a glass of Selzer-water or Congress-water?
Sorry, Sir; none in the house.
Are these intoxicating drinks prohibited by law?
Oh, no, they sell them at the druggists' shops.
Then please to get me some from the druggist's shop.
Excuse me, Sir, it is too late.
The druggist's shop is closed.
The fact is so. I ask my host why he does not keep such thing