“Husband, what are we thinking about? Mr. Renfew has not had anything to eat and now it is past noon.” Her husband took the child, and she soon had biscuit in the Dutch oven and slices of venison, killed the day before, broiling.
“Take a seat in my wife’s rocking chair, Mr. Renfew,” pointing to a singularly constructed affair in the corner; “you see it took three to make that chair. The Lord found the stuff; I did a little cabinet work, and Mary the ornamental part.”
It was made by fitting a board into two-thirds of a hollow cedar log for a seat, and notching into it for the arms, and slanting the back, to the bottom, were fitted rockers. The wife had made a cushion, covered and stuffed the arms and back, and thus made a most comfortable chair.
The cradle was more remarkable still, being made of an entire hollow sycamore log; this log, after being cut off the right length, was sawed down two feet from the ends, the piece taken out leaving the rest for the top; the ends were filled with basswood bark, pressed flat and fastened with glue, made by boiling the tips of deer’s horns; and rockers were put on.
It was large enough for three babies, as a large log was taken in order to get height sufficient for the top, but the space was filled with a bed and stuffing. Two pewter platters, four earthen mugs, wooden plates, spoons and bowls, all of wood, made the table furniture, and bedsteads were made of rough poles.
On the other hand there was a handsome loom with reeds and harness, all in excellent order, large and little wheels and reels and cards, and good feather beds and bedding.
“I see you are looking at my wife’s cradle,” said William, “it was made for the occasion, but the child is comfortable, and may be President of the United States yet.”
“Did you make that loom? It is very handsome.”
“Yes, I thought as it was a thing we should always need, I would take time and make it well. I could have made a cradle of boards, but we needed the boards for a roof, and nails are a scarce article here. The fact is we brought the things we most needed, and I brought my tools, because I knew I could with them hatch up something to get along with, and when I got time make something better. Now, Mr. Renfew,—”
“Call me James, if you please, I shall feel more at home.”