They are very much mistaken who suppose that no one can appreciate natural beauty, or hold communion with the beautiful forms of nature, and grow by it, who has not graduated at a university and read Homer.
Joe Griffin appreciated the beauty of this spot, and felt it to his heart’s core; and so did big Ben, though they could not express it in artistic language.
Ben, in consultation with uncle Isaac, had determined to hew his logs for their whole length only on two sides, which, as it was late in the year, and they were pressed for time, would save much labor; but at the ends, and where the doors and windows were to be, to hew them to a “proud edge.” This would give good joints at the ends, and make the house as tight as though it was all square timber.
“Where are you going to set your house?” inquired Uncle Isaac.
“Here,” said Ben, walking up to the slope above some elms that grew close together, and sticking down a crowbar; “I want my house under the lee of the woods and the hill, and my garden under that warm ledge.”
“How large will you have it on the ground?”
“Thirty-six by thirty-nine.”
“Jerusalem!” exclaimed Joe; “that’s a big house for two people, and a little yellow dog with white on the end of his tail, to live in; hope you won’t be crowded.”
“Log houses,” said Uncle Isaac, “last some time; perhaps he thinks there’ll be more of them before it rots down.”
“At first,” said Ben, “and perhaps for some years, it’ll have to be house, barn, corn-house, workshop, and everything.”