THE GREAT BRADFORD REGION LOOMS UP—MILES OF FIRST-CLASS TERRITORY—LEADING OPERATORS—JOHN MCKEOWN’S MILLIONS—MANY LIVELY TOWNS—OVER THE NEW-YORK BORDER—ALL ABOARD FOR RICHBURG—CROSSING INTO CANADA—SHAW’S STRIKE—THE POLAR REGION PLAYS A STRONG HAND IN THE GAME OF TAPPING NATURE’S LABORATORY. ---------- “Like youthful steers unyoked, they take their courses north.”—_Shakespeare._ “Be sure you’re right, then go ahead.”—_Davy Crockett._ “Jes foller de no’th star an’ yu’ll come out right, shuah.”—_Joel Chandler Harris._ “Better a year of Bradford than a cycle of Cathay.”—_L. M. Morton._ “He did it with all his heart, and prospered.”—_II Chronicles xxxi: 21._ “The Temple of Fame has, you see, many departments.”—_Walter Besant._ “Bid the devil take the hindmost.”—_Butler._ “When Greeks joined Greeks then was the tug of war.”—_Lee._ “Nature must give way to art.”—_Dean Swift._ “The wise and active conquer by daring to attempt.”—_Rowe._ “God helps them that help themselves.”—_Franklin._ “The north breathes steadily beneath the stars.”—_Shelley._ ---------- [Illustration: M’KEAN COUNTY, PA.] Oil Creek and its varied branches, Pithole and its suburbs, Forest and Warren had figured creditably in oil-developments, but the Mastodon of the North was yet to come. “The goal of yesterday shall be the starting point of to-morrow” is especially true of oil-operations. At times men have supposed the limits of juicy territory had been reached, only to be startled by the unexpected opening of a larger, grander field than any that preceded it. Guessing the weather a month ahead is child’s play in comparison with guessing where oil may be found in paying quantity. Geology is liable to shoot wide of the mark, so that the drill is the one indisputable test, from which there is no appeal for an injunction or a reversal of the verdict. Years of waiting sharpened the appetite of the polar bear for the feast to be spread in McKean county and across the New-York border. Tempting tidbits prepared the hungry animal to digest the rich courses that were to follow in close succession, until the whole world was cloyed and gorged, and surfeited with petroleum. It could not hold another mouthful, and the surplus had to be stored in huge tanks ready for the demand certain to come some day and empty the vast receptacles of their last drop. “Still linger, in our northern clime, Some remnants of the good old time.”