As originally built, many of them stood with their backs to the road, their long, sloping roofs sweeping to the ground, their front doors opening on to extensive farm lands. Before the door usually stood the father and mother elm, their graceful branches seeming to hover protectingly over the dwellings. Many of the trees were there when the houses were built, while others have replaced their worthy sires and contribute a bit of landscape picturing that adds much to the attractiveness of the home.
In these old houses, more especially those that are past complete restoration, the architect of to-day frequently finds choice old woodwork. Sometimes it is a rare bit of pumpkin pine such as is seldom seen; again it is a fine old wainscot, or a wonderful staircase that has been saved from the ravages of time. Often some of these details are introduced into another remodeled farmhouse to replace parts too far gone to be used. The growing vogue of the country home has led to the restoration of many of these old-time farmhouses and has saved many a valuable structure from falling into decay. Fortunately the appreciation of their possibilities came before it was too late to save them from destruction, although many that could have done service were allowed to go to ruin. There are, however, many fine examples still standing, and some of these have been altered to suit modern uses. Little wonder the old farmhouse has come into its own, its attractiveness after remodeling making it available for summer or all-the-year-round uses. To-day there is scarcely a farm or country resort that does not show one or more of these old-time buildings in their new dress. Some have interesting history connected with them and are associated with legends that have been handed down from generation to generation. Often the house has been photographed to show both its former appearance and the results of the restoration. Some owners, however, have given little thought to the original structure, and it is left to the imagination to picture the house as it used to be.
Iristhorpe—Front View
It was six years ago, while hunting for a place to locate a summer home, that Doctor and Mrs. Homer Gage of Worcester, Massachusetts, discovered at Shrewsbury a simple little farmhouse, showing no claim to architectural beauty. It was such an unattractive, plain, little building, that only the experienced eye could discover its fine lines. This house stood close by the dusty highway; the fence which formed the boundary line had fallen into decay, while the farm lands, run down through hard usage, showed no trace even of an old-fashioned garden, such as many of the housewives of the earlier day so loved to tend. The house was built before the Revolutionary War, being erected in 1760, and was considered in those days to be a good example of what a farmhouse stood for. Surely it was an excellent type, considering the usual lines in the New England farmhouses of that day,—this small, unpretentious dwelling, whose entrance door out of plumb and windows irregularly placed made a curious combination that was in reality fascinating and appealing.
It was two stories in height, with an attic under the eaves,—a hot little place during the summer months and cold in winter, but good for storage of furniture and unnecessary household belongings. The roof had a pitch at the back and sloped to meet the kitchen, which was only one story in height. Two sturdy, six-foot chimneys had been built on one side of the house, as stoves were unknown in those days. The frame was of white pine, well seasoned, and the timber hand-hewn, with the mark of the adze plainly showing in the beams, for it was built when honest labor prevailed and was as stanch as in the days when the bush stuck in the chimney or ridge-pole showed that the carpenters' work was done. The farm buildings were connected with the main house and comprised a barn, hen-house, corn-crib, and byre, all huddled together in the most compact kind of way. It had not been occupied since Doctor Brown, the original owner, paid his last visit and left the house to its fate. The interior was not as dilapidated as in most old houses, being in tolerably good repair. And so, with little alteration, it was used as a dwelling house, while the new home which was being built near the center of the estate was erected.
After the cellar was built and the foundation partly laid, the work on the new house was stopped. There was something about the old clapboarded farmhouse that appealed so strongly to the new occupants that they fell under its charm and decided not to supplant it by a modern home. But the house stood too near the road; there was no privacy and no freedom from dust. It was of such solid construction, however, that its moving could be easily accomplished. So, slowly but surely, it slid down the hill and finally rested on the foundations which had been designed for the summer house.
