As we passed along on our way to church, I had a good opportunity to see this little town on Cayuga Creek, and the added advantage of a personal account of the place from one of its residents. Like all towns adjacent to a large city, Lancaster has a certain air of independence, and unmistakable signs of contact with greater forces; and besides its pretty homes, some of them the out-of-town retreats of Buffalo business men, it has its share of industrial enterprises.
Altogether, it is a pretty little neighbor of which any city might be proud, and which in its peace-loving way is very sensible in standing off at a distance from its busier sister. A few minutes by rail can take its thousand and a half inhabitants "to town," where they find the best that the great stores provide; and a ride of a few minutes more brings them out of the noise to their own quiet haven.
It is hard to realize a more delightful and thoroughly restful existence than that found in suburban villages, where the influences of active forces are felt, but where they cannot disturb the even tranquillity. They seem to illustrate the "golden mean" which Horace recommends, and I find that it is always pleasant to reach such places and hard to leave them.
THE ROAD TO BUFFALO.