Do you suppose Buffalo can be as poetical as it was then?
Buffalo! The name does n't invite the Muse very much.

Perhaps it never was very poetical! Oh, Basil, dear, I'm afraid we have only come to find out that we were mistaken about everything! Let's leave Rochester alone, at any rate!" "I'm not troubled! We won't disturb our dream of Rochester; but I don't despair of Buffalo.

I'm sure that Buffalo will be all that our fancy ever painted it.

I believe in Buffalo." "Well, well," murmured Isabel, "I hope you're right;" and she put some things together for leaving their car at Buffalo, while they were still two hours away.
When they reached a place where the land mated its level with the level of the lake, they ran into a wilderness of railroad cars, in a world where life seemed to be operated solely by locomotives and their helpless minions.

The bellowing and bleating trains were arriving in every direction, not only along the ground floor of the plain, but stately stretches of trestle-work, which curved and extended across the plain, carried them to and fro overhead.