Stand, if you will, at the monument on Highway X and Allen Street and look to the south. The cars parked in front of the business places downtown are barely visible.

As we drive along Allen Street, to the south, we don't realize that we travel uphill about half the block and then downhill.

Many years ago - it had to be before 1920 - Allen Street was the center of wintertime sport. Young and not so young would begin at the top of the hill - High Street - and sled at high speed down the iced track toward Clinton.

Observe, if you will, the high bank along the west side of Allen Street beginning about across from the Baptist Church. This is what is left of a big hump in the street. This hump was excavated when the street was paved.

Of course, every sportsman wanted to have the fastest sled or bob and make the greatest distance down the hill. The hump half-way down the hill proved a barrier for distance. If a sled made it over the hump it was a cinch it would go all the way to the depot.

The big bobs which carried eight to 12 persons didn't have much trouble to make the distance.

These, usually home-made, consisted of a long plank fitted with out-rigging on which the seated riders could put their feet. Here they come at break-neck speed, huddled together with legs spread-eagled and arms around the passenger ahead, the girls screaming their terror.

When the ride ended there was the long walk back up the hill. Stand at the top of the hill at High Street and look south. There you'll get an idea of what a long trek that is from the railroad.

Mr. Crabtree, Harold's father, owned a livery stable about where Muriel and Keith Pecotte [had] their office. He had a riding pony that just loved to be out among the young folks.

Mr. Crabtree would ease the trip back up the hill by hooking onto a string of sleds or a bobsled, sometimes called a ripper, and tow it, loaded, to the top of the hill.

It happened, on occasion, that the pony would be roaming around riderless. He apparently enjoyed the duty of towing a sled up the hill. If he happened to be about in front of the Baptist Church, the hump, and a rider or riders zipped by he would high-tail it down to the depot and volunteer his services.

Needless to say, he became quite a well loved pet.

Time went on, the hump was graded down, automobiles took the place to the slower moving horse and wagon, and the intersection of Milwaukee Road and Allen Street became a danger spot.

The village had to refuse permission for sledding over the highway and bales of straw were strategically placed at the bottom of the hill to stop the sleds before they reached the highway.

Walk up there to the top of the hill; stand quietly and listen . . . Is the echo of the screams and laughter still sounding?