Year ago last fall he arranged with the Somerville movers, C. E. Hall & Sons, to bring the things down here. He’d talked with the railroad people but there were car shortages then, and besides the Maine Central had dismantled their siding there at the Junction. He’d have had to done the loading, to I. C. C. specifications, whereas the Hall crews did it if he shipped by truck. So, the last of the two-foot gauges came home to Massachusetts--by truck! Quite a sight seeing a railroad whizzing down the Boston road. Newspapers and magazines played it up plenty. Still do, in fact. Mr. Atwood’s name is in the news more than any railroad man since Peter Cooper or Jim Hill. The idea of his little Edaville Railroad seems to click. [Illustration: (_Atwood Photo_) Not all Edaville business is out on the bog. Here Mr. and Mrs. Atwood confer in the seclusion of their private office in the palatial screenhouse. ] That’s about the story. The Edaville’s quite a railroad in its own right, let alone because it’s the last of the two-foot gauges. It isn’t completed yet, either. Doubt if it ever will be: there’ll always be a new spur to build or a bog-siding somewhere to install. Maybe some new equipment, too--such as a nice, new Plymouth diesel for the cranberry freights. [Illustration: (_Moody Photo_) No. 4 heads a freight train into clear to allow the passenger job to gallop by. ] [Illustration: (_Moody Photo_) No. 7 crosses some undeveloped bog. Maybe next year cranberry vines will bloom over there in the brush. ] Eh? Sure: why not? What’s wrong with diesels? You fellers always get emotional when someone says diesel. Want to see the Edaville go in the red? This railroad (although you’d never guess it) isn’t a plaything; it’s a plantation utility, designed to facilitate Mr. Atwood’s cranberry business. The passenger train and the parlor car, and Sunset Vista, are gestures he and Mrs. Atwood make from their own pockets to give people some fun down here--and to have a little themselves. But he can’t run his freight trains at a loss just to see coal smoke smudging all over those nice red cranberries. Red’s a pretty color, but not on the ledger! Probably if the other two-footers had bought some Plymouth diesels they’d all be running today. Lots of difference between coal at ten bucks a ton and oil at ten cents a gallon. Personally I’m for it--a ten ton, eight-wheel diesel Plymouth. Besides, that’ll save the steam engines for Sunday and holiday passenger trains! [Illustration: (_Moody Photo_) No. 7 when she was a girl at home. Here she waits at Bridgton Junction for men to load mail and express into the baggage-car; then she’ll breeze up the hills to Bridgton, 16 miles, in an even 40 minutes! ]