not a lime wagon, but a great old photo anyway<\/figcaption><\/figure>\nNot many of you can remember the rattle and rumble of the lime wagons as they bumped over the rough roads in the days of long ago, on their way to Mike Uhler\u201a\u00c4\u00f4s kilns, a mile beyond Frenchtown on the other side of the Delaware. But in their day they carried on a lively business that seemed to be satisfactory at both ends of the route, tho laborious at both and all of the long way between. A few will recall experiences similar to those of the writer; not identical, of course, but sufficient to make us old fellows related by lime, if nothing more.<\/p>\n
Lime! The thing is among my earliest and most vivid recollections. No doubt this is because the carting of it caused so much worry. The railroad up the Delaware was a new thing then and much discussed in my hearing. In going and coming it had to be crossed at Frenchtown. People had thoughtlessly so pictured the dangers to be feared from the madly rushing trains, that escape from being killed at the crossing seemed to be only by chance or miracle. The distance was called seven miles, and if there were ever any longer ones they are yet to be discovered. Anyhow, that made a long day for watching and waiting for my father to return with his load\u201a\u00c4\u00eeif he was ever to get back alive. For during two or three years he refused to take \u201a\u00c4\u00fathat toddling boy on a trip like that.\u201a\u00c4\u00f9 This fixed lime in memory as an unfortunate factor in farm life, good for the land perhaps, but hard on foolish boys.<\/p>\n
How I wanted to go along! If there must be trouble, it was better to be in it than at home worrying about it. Of course that was a mere feeling at that time of life, not reasoning at all. But to this day, with the folks away and exposed to danger, that feeling has defied reason, experience and everything else, call it what they will and ridicule it much as they please.