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​The Reading Railroad ran 51 passenger excursions between 1959 and 1964. The excursions, named Iron Horse Rambles, would start at various locations and travel over the tracks of the Reading System in Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and Delaware. Powered by T-1 class steam locomotives numbered 2100, 2102, and 2124, the rambles were fan favorites to ride and see.

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​Donna Frederick Conville rode a few of the excursions as a young girl. Her mother would pack a picnic lunch, and the entire family would ride to places like Hershey, Gettysburg, and Shamokin. Donna had a hat, goggles, and a bandanna that she wore to help keep cinders out of her eyes when sticking her head out of the coach windows to view the locomotive. 

​September 17, 1960: Wayne Junction to Schwenksville on the Perkiomen Branch for a Pennsylvania Dutch Supper-Engine 2124.
June 11, 1961: Port Reading, New Jersey to Zionsville on the Perkiomen Branch-Engine 2124.
July 16, 1961: Jenkintown to Hershey and Echo Caves in Hummelstown-Engine 2124.
September 16, 1961: Wayne Junction to Schwenksville on the Perkiomen Branch for Pennsylvania Dutch Supper-Engine 2124.
September 15, 1962: Wayne Junction to Schwenksville on the Perkiomen Branch for a Pennsylvania Dutch Supper-Engine 2100.
Sept. 21, 1963: Bound Brook, New Jersey to Macungie for a Pennsylvania Dutch Supper-Engine 2102. This trip left Macungie and returned to Jenkintown and Bound Brook over the Bethlehem Branch.

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​Doll

“I would like to share with you an experience my brother, Ralph and I had when I was 10, and he was 14 years old.

Our parents were in the milk business in Perkasie, and it was a family affair. We all had our certain work each 7 days a week.

When the business was purchased, I was only 4 years old, and dad taught me this bookkeeping method. Some customers paid their bill by the week, others daily by putting money in an empty milk bottle. In these days, milk costs 3 cents per pint and 6 cents per quart.

My work consisted of bottling and capping all the milk. The milk tank held 100 qt, and my system took only 10 minutes to do that amount. My dad only lifted the empty and full milk cases on and off the machinery. When I became of school age, I didn't have much time to play but was learning how to work with him and it never hurt me.

My brother Ralph's work was going out to a farm everyday day to pick up four big cans of milk with the horse and milk wagon.

I’d always loved candy, especially peanut butter kisses, so Ralph knew just how to entice me. One day he said, “come go with me today to pick up the milk at the farm. I have 2 pounds of your favorite candy hidden in the milk wagon for you.”  I told him I couldn't go, I didn't have the bottle caps counted or the bottles ready.  Also, I had to wait on the customers that came for butter and cottage cheese (we had a small store in our cellar). Ralph said, “don't worry about that. I'll fix it for you and put a sign on a door that were closed up until 5:30 PM.”  So, he called up the cellars steps to mom that he was going for the milk. She thought I was in the store, taking care of the business and doing my work. She had never come down to check on me before, so I thought I was safe.
 
I ate peanut butter kisses all the way to the farm. We talked to the farmer; he always wanted one of my long curls and had one picked out. We got the four cans of milk and started a long drive home. The lids were never put on tight on the cans but turned at a slight angle to help the milk cool before being pasteurized and bottled.

 A short distance from the farm Ralph handed the reins to me and said, “now you learn to drive this wild horse, and I'll show you how fast he can run.” Ralph took a short stick and poked Kernel on top of his tail and said, “you're going to have a time holding him on the road.” That horse took off as though lightning hit him and he started running away with us but we both laughed.
 
But Kernel kept picking up speed and got over the side of the road. The back doors of the wagon flew open; one can of milk spilled and fell out. I couldn't control that horse and Ralph got in the back of the wagon trying to hold on to the other 3 cans. I got bold and stepped over the board and climbed on Kernel’s back.  A train came out of the tunnel several blocks away blowing its whistle for a road crossing. That whistle, me on top of the horse and Ralph hollering me to get off the horse was the last straw for Kernel. He ran into a deep ditch, just as we got to the edge of our town.

One wheel came off the wagon; Ralph and the other 3 cans of milk fell out into the street and down into the ditch. Kernel really picked up speed then, but he still had me to put up with on his back and was snorting and frothing at the mouth. I stayed on him for a couple of blocks, then I got worried about Ralph and turned around to see where he was and slipped part of the way off Kernel. I held a deep death grip on those reins.

The road had recently been stoned and graveled. (No macadam in 1913) and Kernel dragged me through all this for four blocks. Men going home from work knew me and were running after me and yelling, “Grace, let go, let go!) I finally did let go at the front of the Lutheran Church and a man picked me up in his arms and ran to our family doctor as I screamed and cried all the way.
I was a mess in tattered clothes and tore new long black cotton stockings. While the doctor took care of my many wounds, I kept constantly crying. I saw my left arm bleeding down my arm (sic) as if a faucet was turned on. I promptly fainted. When I revived the doctor had me all fixed up, but I began crying again. The man that carried me there wanted to know if I was crying because of being in pain. I said no, it was because I was worried about my brother and all the milk that went down the ditch- How are our customers going to get served tomorrow?

When I got home, Ralph was there and while our parents were busy talking, he put his finger to his lips, and he shook his head sideways for a-no-no to let me know not to tell what happened. We were very close as brother and sister, so my safest bet then was to cry again. The tears were real for I couldn't sit down from being so bruised and was still in shock and very worried.

Dad said to my mother, “Don't lay one finger on Grace you'll answer to me.” Mom said, “If she's getting off so lightly, don't you dare hit Ralph.”  I did not feel elated, only a little safer. Our parents did not ask us that or the next day how the accident occurred.   This gave Ralph, and I an opportunity to fix up a story.

Ralph merely told dad that the train whistle scared Kernel. Dad let it at that and never questioned us again. Especially me because there was an apple of his eye and Ralph was Mom's pet. That night my dad's competitor offered him half of his milk for their next day's delivery and brought it to us and help bottle and cap it. He and dad did all the work that night.

At the time of the accident Kernel ran down into the next town several miles away and some men caught him and took him back to the livery stable. My dad wanted to have Kernel shot, but I started crying again saying it wasn't his fault, he was only scared. I told my dad to shoot me instead.  That little remark got him to thinking. He said he was putting the milk business up for sale before anything else happened to the children. All were happy except me; I liked doing the work mostly because Dad always took me everywhere with him.
 
Dad and I had secrets just between the two of us. One was not very secretive; on Saturday mornings, he took me with him to collect the milk bills. When we were through, he stopped at one of the local hotel bar rooms for a couple of beers. He sat me up on the bar and every time a round of drinks were bought, I got a bar of 5 cent candy, usually ending up with four bars of candy. I was secretive, because dad told me to hide my candy bars in the bottom of the milk cap barrel, so they'd last me most of the week.

He was not so fortunate because old horse Frank was smart and always dad got into trouble. Frank would get tired of waiting for us and went home alone. As soon as my mom saw Frank walking slowly up the street, she knew where we were. Then dad always caught the dickens from her. She always said the same thing to Dad, “you have your ‘snoot full’ again.” I didn't know then what that meant, but I always said to mom,” He does not!”

Dad asked me never to reveal (while he was alive) another secret we had between us since we did all the bookkeeping. We serve milk to three very large families, and they paid us as much as they could afford during the year. Then when Christmas came Dad gave them a receipt mark “paid in full” as a gift. He sure had a heart as big as all outdoors.

The milk business was sold soon after that accident. Then dad went into partnership with another man and bought someone's ice cream business. I didn't have to work at that because of the big machinery.

I felt let down when the milk business was sold because the horses were included in the sale. I missed those horses and went to see them almost every day to feed them sugar lumps and apples. The new owner used to let me ride old Frank and I rode him bare back all over town. 

Eighteen years later, in 1931, the true story of the accident was revealed to Mom and Dad. I was visiting them on vacation from Jacksonville, Florida. I had baked mincemeat pies for them and Ralph and his wife. The five of us were sitting around the kitchen table snacking on pie and drinking coffee. Ralph asked me if I thought I'd ever get fat like I used to wish for when I was a little girl. I had always yearned to wear a corset, like mom and also wear a “rat hairpiece”, in my hair.  I was always skinny, no matter what I ate or how often. In exchange for my mince meat pies, Ralph said he had something to give me. He handed me a pound bag of peanut butter kisses and said they were hard to buy. I asked if he was trying to entice me into something like he did when we were kids and he just roared with laughter.

While I was eating my candy, dad began talking and said, “While we're on the subject of days gone by, I wonder if I ever got the real truth about that accident with our horse Kernel.” Ralph and I exchanged glances. I told our parents that I'd wanted to tell them many times over the years but the time just never seemed right. I looked at Ralph and said, “I'm going to tell them now that we're adults and don't have to worry about getting a good licking at our age.”
After the story was told, Dad sat there very quiet and big tears rolled down his cheeks. That just melted me and I jumped up and kissed his tears away just as he did to me as a child. He'd always tried his best to teach me things I thought were hard to learn. He always said, never gossip and talk about anyone unless it's something nice. I learned as much from him as I did in school.
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We lost Dad two years later. He wasn't feeling good and a friend took him to the doctor. The doctor gave him medication and also some pills that dad put in his pocket. As his friend drove him home, Dad gave a soft sigh, slumped over and died. It was his first and only heart attack and it happened at the front of the Lutheran church where I'd had let go of the reins on Kernel, 20 years earlier. I lost my best friend and pal-Dad was my everything.

​RDoll

​The late Jay Sowers provided this memory to the Perkasie Historical Society. Jay was a Perkasie resident who was well recognized in the tether car community. ​

The Main Street hallway had steps to the second floor where seven rooms were rented. There was much antique furniture up there and only one bathroom that was shared.  ​

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​There are memories of taking the Perk building from the stucco exterior to the sunroom look of today. There were demolitions, additions, board and batten siding, German siding, bay windows and brick façades, lighting, landscaping and new signs.