Although not rising to the dignity of a borough, the little village of Ralston is entitled to more than passing mention. It has a very romantic history and was at one time the seat of a series of ambitious schemes. It was founded by Mathew C. Ralston, of Philadelphia, after whom it took its name, who dreamed of making it a great iron producing center. Iron had been discovered in the mountains below the village as early as 1820 and to develop these deposits was the purpose of Mathew Ralston and his associates. A large blast furnace was built at Astonville on the Frozen Run about a mile below what is now Ralston about the year 1831, and the construction of a road from Williamsport to Ralston to reach this furnace was begun simultaneously with its erection.

In those days the building of a railroad up the valley of Lycoming Creek was no small undertaking. Heavy grading was necessary and, owing to the tortuous course of the stream, numerous bridges had to be built to avoid heavy rock cutting and frequent sharp curves. The engineer corps was in charge of the late Robert Faries. The region was wild, mountainous and unsettled. The exigencies of the work necessitated the equipment of the working force in Williamsport as no supplies could be obtained along the line. A pack mule was loaded with provisions and supplies and the engineering corps proceeded to their work on foot. They camped on the trail wherever night found them and when their supplies were exhausted one of the party was compelled to return all the way to Williamsport for a fresh supply of the "sinews of war." There were no steam shovels or grading machinery in those days and very crude methods were in use. It is related that upon one occasion, after construction work had begun, Mr. Faries visited one of the contractors near Ralston and actually found a workman removing dirt from a side hill with an ordinary garden hoe. As a further instance of the difficulties to be overcome it may be stated that it was necessary to build twenty-one bridges between Williamsport and Ralston, a distance of twenty-five miles.

After a great many vicissitudes and the surmounting of many difficulties the road, then known as the Williamsport Railroad, was opened through to Ralston on January 12, 1839. A locomotive, called the "Robert Ralston," was brought from Philadelphia on a canal boat and immediately placed in service. About eighteen months later a second one, called the "Williamsport," was purchased. The road was operated for a few years and was then completed through to Elmira and became the Williamsport and Elmira, now the Pennsylvania.

When Ralston was laid out great expectations for its future were entertained by its founder. The original plot shows that its streets were named Main, McIntyre, Green, Thompson and Rock Run with the requisite number of alleys. A large hotel, partly built of stone, with massive columns in front, was erected and it presented an imposing appearance. It was called the Ralston House. But the dreams of Mathew Ralston were never realized. The iron furnaces proved a complete failure. His fortune dwindled to nothing, and after a few years of futile struggle, he gave up the fight and died a poor man. The furnace soon fell into decay and became only a refuge for bats and owls. A portion of it is still standing, a melancholy reminder of buried hopes and disappointed ambitions. In his endeavor to win success from iron smelting, Ralston completely overlooked the other great opportunities that lay all about him; the virgin forests of timber; the valuable coal and the equally valuable clay deposits. Years afterwards these proved of great value and are still operated with profit. When the large tannery at Ralston was in full operation some years ago, as many as 250 men were employed at one time, 1,600 cords of bark were handled per year and 1,000 sides of leather were turned out daily. But this industry is now a thing of the past.

In one way Mathew Ralston’s dream was realized. For many years Ralston was a famous summer resort. The mountain streams in the neighborhood were filled with brook trout and deer, bear and smaller game abounded in the mountains. There were two good hotels, the Ralston House on the south side of Lycoming Creek and the Conley House on the north side. Guests from New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore and Washington came there to spend the summers and enjoy the fishing and hunting.

But the resort glories of Ralston have also passed away. The hills and mountains have been stripped bare. The magnificent forests no longer exist. The whirr of machinery and the scream of the steam whistle are heard in the shady dells and beside the rambling brooks. The streams no longer abound with trout. The deer and bear have been chased to more secluded haunts. Commercialism has given place to natural beauty. Ralston is now a thriving village given over wholly to business enterprises.