Lucius Beebe, the renowned author of coffee-table railroad books, was inordinately fond of the 19th century, when men were really... um... well, from Lucius' point of view, when robber barons were really robber barons and the filthy rich were really stinky about flaunting their wealth. This is reflected in his passion for repeatedly writing about the railroad moguls and their extravagant lifestyles. It is entirely possible that Beebe, a native of eastern Massachusetts, was directly inspired by his own shirttail relations. None of the Massachusetts railroad barons were better at either robbing or stinking than his nine-times-removed distant cousins, the Beebes of Arkham.

The next generation of Beebes, led by Pecunius’ son Sartorius, ran the railroad through the prosperous years leading up to the Civil War, spending the profits on mansions, clothes, and strange hobbies. Important branch lines were acquired, including direct access to Boston via the Boston & Arkham RR and north to New Hampshire over the rails of the Arkham & Newburyport RR.

Sartorius’ siblings and cousins were important to Arkham’s growth as a major Massachusetts cultural center. Brother Fugacius was a founder and presiding minister in the Church of the Starry Wisdom, and believed himself to be the modern incarnation of the Egyptian hawk-god Horus. Fugacius convinced many Arkhamites of his veracity until, in 1857, his head-first dive from the church’s steeple convinced them otherwise.

In 1837, rich Arkham merchant Pecunius Beebe faced the problem that he was not getting rich fast enough. Draymen were charging Beebe extortionate prices to wagon-haul his goods from the docks at Kingsport to his establishments in Arkham and vice-versa. Beebe took his cue from the railroad mania that was then sweeping Boston financial circles. He greased local political palms and was soon building tracks of his own— the Arkham & Kingsport Rail Way, 3.3 miles from the Kingsport docks to the crossroads at the Arkham riverfront.

Pecunius’ brother, Fallacius, was the local mechanical and engineering genius at the time. He surveyed and graded the railroad to Arkham, and then continued his survey many miles up the Miskatonic valley, to Dunsany and beyond, accurately foreseeing the growth of Pecunius’ railroad empire.

A reputation for odd happenings gradually attached itself to the little railroad. Riders reported a dreamlike lethargy that came over them in the closed-up little passenger cars, so that they found it hard to remember what the date— even the year— was. To the end of the railroad's days, passengers would arrive with stories of glimpsing costumes and buildings— indeed, life as a whole— from past eras, seen through the dirty car windows. Modern analysis suggests the problem was carbon monoxide... or maybe the soporific odor of the squid oil used in the lamps. The knowledgeable at the time blamed it on the poverty of the northeast Massachusetts countryside.

The Miskatonic also had physical problems. Train schedules were only loosely kept. Maintenance was sporatic. Accidents seemed to happen with frequency. The stories were mostly hushed up since the Beebes owned the town's only newspaper, the Arkham Gazette. (Now called the Advertiser —ed.)

Not many Arkhamites complained of missing relatives. The fares that day had been mostly drummers, sales touts, poster-hangers, Republican Mugwump political operatives, patent medicine hawkers, and itinerant bible-salesmen. The rootless are seldom missed. Missing engine #42, the Hinkley, was kept on the roster until the end of the railroad, and train #9 was posted as "LATE" on the board at Arkham station as late as 1902. For years afterward, on nights with no moon, old-timers would cock an ear at a far-off distant shriek and claim to recognise the Hinkley's distinctive whistle.

Also in 1838, Fallacius ordered the line's first locomotive from Stevenson in England, a 2-2-2 Patentee that he named Dagon, which he proudly baptized with a bottle of something resembling blood (details are lacking) and drove through the mob of screaming, cursing draymen on the day of the railroad’s opening.