A personal account of life in Madrid: “At the south end of the bridge was the woolen mill, a big gray stone structure with a wide flight of wooden steps leading to a platform before the double doors of the main rooms. When I was crossing the bridge on my way to and from school I could hear the klang, klang of the looms, an ominous sound to me. Across from the woolen mill was the tannery owned and run by one of the numerous John Fishers roundabout. This one was Baptist John. On the northeast end of the bridge stood the gristmill. The sight of huge stones, which, powered by water wheels, moved round and round with a steady, majestic rhythm and ground the flour, fascinated me. The boys were interested in every step of the process by means of which the wheat or corn left the blinds and became flour or corn meal. It was the atmosphere that intrigued me- and the miller. He was a friendly, kindly man named Smith and he looked as I thought, as a miller should. Across from the gristmill was the sawmill, run by John Meeker in my day. How I loved the delightful fragrance of the sawdust and the piles of freshly cut lumber! And the deep toned music of the big saw which cut off the edgings. These edgings made cheap but good stove wood and my brothers used to bring them home on their sled and saw them into proper lengths for the kitchen stove.”- Ruth Goodnow Keenan