But it has come to pass that in these days when the people speak of
Adam Ward they do not smile. When they speak of Adam Ward's daughter,
Helen, they smile, indeed, but with quite a different meaning.
The history of Millsburgh is not essentially different from that of a
thousand other cities of its class.
Born of the natural resources of the hills and forests, the first rude
mill was located on that wide sweeping bend of the river. About this
industrial beginning a settlement gathered. As the farm lands of the
valley were developed, the railroad came, bringing more mills. And so
the town grew up around its smoky heart.
It was in those earlier days that Adam Ward, a workman then, patented
and introduced the new process. It was the new process, together with
its owner's native genius for "getting on," that, in time, made Adam
the owner of the Mill. And, finally, it was this combination of Adam
and the new process that gave this one mill dominion over all others.
As the Mill increased in size, importance and power, and the town grew
into the city, Adam Ward's material possessions were multiplied many
times.
Then came the year of this story.
It was midsummer. The green, wooded hills that form the southern
boundary of the valley seemed to be painted on shimmering gauze.
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