"
"It does, though, make a mighty sight of difference," Snaffle said,
rolling his head and putting his plump white hands together. "Somehow
or other, the having that train scooting by day in and day out
unsettles the young fellows. The whistle stirs them up, and keeps
reminding them how easy it is to go out West or somewhere or other.
I've seen it time and again."
"Well," Greenfield returned, a shadow over his genial face, "I have a
youngster that's got the Western fever pretty bad without any railroads
coming to Feltonville. But what you say is only one side of the
question. When a railroad comes it always brings business in one way or
another. The increase of transportation facilities is sure to build
things up."
"Oh, yes, it builds them up," Snaffle chuckled, as if the idea afforded
him infinite amusement, "but how does it work. There are two or three
men in the town who start market gardens and make something out of it.
They sell their produce in the city and they do their trading there;
they hire Irish laborers from outside the village; and how much better
off is the town, except that it can tax them a trifle more if it can
get hold of the valuation of their property." "Which it generally
can't," interpolated Greenfield grimly, with an inward reminder of
certain experiences as assessor.
"Or somebody starts a factory," Snaffle went on, "and then the town is
made, ain't it? Outside capital is invested, outside operatives brought
in to turn the place upside down and to bring in all the deviltries
that have been invented, and all the town has to show in the long run
is a little advance in real estate over the limited area where they
want to build houses for the mill-hands.
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