What a sight! Cranberry architecture and railroad artistry all mixed together under the green pine trees. See the vivid contrast—yellow sand and the bright blue sky. The red freight cars, and green passenger coaches sporting their goldleaf name of Edaville along the sides.
Eh? Those other names? Oh; Mr. Atwood restored these cars to their original appearance and part of his pristine program was to letter several of them as they were in the beginning. The parlor-car is Sandy River & Rangeley Lakes, one ancient coach is Bridgton & Saco River, and that other one once rolled over the old Wiscasset & Quebec rails. The idea makes a hit, too.
See—there are some trains scurrying about their cranberry work, while that string of shiny passenger cars at the station, headed by the impatient little homuncular engine, is waiting to take you for a ride.
(Moody Photo)
No. 7 hauls Mr. Atwood’s passenger train, loaded with a hundred of his guests.
We’ll walk over. (No; that dog won’t bite.) Some station, isn’t it? Just built this Spring. Thousands of people visit Edaville every week; I guess lots of them hurry right by Plymouth Rock to come over here. That’s why Mr. Atwood decided he needed a passenger station.
Yes, it’s quite a place; besides the usual station fixtures it has a real Fred Harveyish kind of restaurant, a museum, waiting-room, and social hall besides. That’s where they get together for club meetings, speeches when some speechster is here, yarn-swapping, and to look at all the interesting railroad relics and pictures on display there. There’ll be some barracks upstairs someday, where visitors may bed down for a night or two.
End of the line? No, not exactly. The tracks go right by the station. That’s because it’s on a little loop encircling Mr. Atwood’s model Edaville village—screenhouse, railroad, and all those cozy cottages where his employees live—and joins the main line again half a mile away. We’ll see the switch when we go out. Trains can go out of this station three different ways. You’ll see.
