I was at
Dearborn at one time when an accident, of this kind, happened to a
freight train, a little west of the village. There was considerable
property destroyed, barrels broken in pieces and flour strewed over the
ground, but no lives were lost.
Father said the railroad was a good thing for us and our country, and
that they would soon have one, and the cars running on it to the State of
New York. Then I reiterated my promise to mother. I said if the cars ran
through our native place, we could go back there without crossing Lake
Erie, the thought of which chilled me every time I spoke to mother about
going back to make a visit. Time sped on, days, months, and some years
had passed, since the first of the Michigan Central Railroad was built,
and the cars running east and west loaded with passengers and freight,
when one morning I heard a strange noise. It was terrible and
unaccountable to me, as much so as it would have been if I had heard
heavy thunder at mid-day, from a clear sky. I heard it from the direction
of Dearbornville; It appeared to originate there, or in the woods that
way. I heard it two or three times, several days in succession.
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