HUNDRED SPRINGS PARK

The Tyroner who is in search of rest and enjoyment knows the way to Hundred Springs, and the ever-smiling face of its proprietor, R. S. Seeds, indicates that he knows a good thing when he has it. No one will have the hardihood to take issue with him on the merits of this unique resort of which he is the happy possessor, a place which lacks nothing that nature can offer but that which only man’s enterprise can bring to it, and for which these valleys are waiting.

Surely it will not be very long until the need shall be supplied, and the surrounding hills look down upon the noiseless electric car skirting the river and creek from Tyrone through Ironsville and “The Springs” to Birmingham, and from Grazierville to Greensburg, Northwood and Vail. Then this Park, with its uncounted bursting springs of purest water and its acres of shade and verdure and foliage, will be the delight of thousands of people every week so long as the stress of summer heat continues.

To tell about Hundred Springs is to praise it, for there is none like it, and it is truth to say that to be loved it needs but to be seen. If there were no other attractions it could boast of, this would be enough to make Tyrone a desirable place for summer residence. The P.R.R. stops its trains a short distance from the Park for excursion parties, and hacks and carriages and bicycles carry their quota during the season.

There, amid the grand over-topping trees, picnic parties spread their lunches down and laugh at the climbing mercury while they drink nature’s own beverage which needs no ice to cool it. Out from rock ledges, from under spreading roots of oak and chestnut, from caverns and from the naked level ground, the water gushes on every side and gathers into a brook, which rushes down a gentle slope, and dashes over a precipice, and tumbles in mad haste into the broadening river.

At the entrance to the Park is the mill owned by Mr. Seeds but operated by Mr. G. W. Mauk, an experienced miller, who makes and sells the Snowflake, a patent flour, the Magnolia, blended, and the Leader, “Straight goods.” Everything about the place and the man indicate thorough work and fair dealing.

On or near this spot has stood a mill for three generations back. A hundred years ago these springs turned the wheels of a Paper Mill, at first a log structure, afterwards one of stone. Here there was also a store and a tavern, and linseed oil and plaster were made and sold. The manufacturing interests of old time included saw mills and factories for wool and cotton, clustering around Birmingham, before the screech of the locomotive disturbed the forest, and its swift-moving trains brought in the products of eastern rivals to undermine the trade of those enterprising pioneers of the Upper Juniata.