DWELLINGS.
The first houses of the settlers were doubtless of logs, one story high, "daubed" with clay. A common form was eighteen feet square, with seven feet stud, stone fireplaces, with catted chimney, and a hip-roof covered with thatch. These structures generally gave way in a few years to large frame houses, covered with "clo'boards" and shingles, having fireplace and chimney of brick, which was laid in clay mortar, except the part above the roof, where lime was used. Of these houses, two styles prevailed; one represented by the "Old Indian House," the other, less elaborate, by the house now standing on the Smead lot. This house is thirty feet square, two stories, with pitch roof, facing the street westerly. It is covered with cloveboards, apparently the original, with no signs of paint. It has four windows in front, and five at each end. The front door, a little south of the centre, opens directly into the south front room, which is sixteen by eighteen feet. On the north of this, is a huge chimney which rises through the ridge, and the north front room, twelve by thirteen feet. North of the chimney is a large, dark closet. East of it is the kitchen, eleven by twenty feet, south of which is the buttery. Stairs to cellar and chambers occupy the southeast corner. The space over the kitchen is unfinished. The southwest chamber is fifteen by fifteen, the northwest twelve by thirteen. Each story is seven and a half feet stud. The frame is of hewn timber, generally nine by fourteen inches. The plates are nine by sixteen; those at the ends in the upper story project twelve inches over the walls, supported by the side plates, and studs on the inner edge. The rafters are sawed, four by four inches, and supported by purlins which are framed into heavy beam rafters at the middle and each end of the roof. The whole building is of pine. There was no lath and plaster; the walls were made of matched boards. The ceiling was finished by the joists and underside of the floor above being planed; the floors were double or of matched boards.
The "Old Indian House," built by John Sheldon, about 1698, stood at the north end of the training-field, facing the south. Its frame was largely of oak. It was twenty-one by forty-two feet, two stories, with a steep pitch roof. In front, the second story projected about two feet, the ends of the cross-beams being supported by ornamental oak brackets, two of which are preserved in Memorial Hall. A lean-to thirteen and a-half feet wide ran the whole length of the north side, its roof being a continuation of that on the main building.
The ground floor was thus thirty-four and a-half by forty-two feet. From the centre rose the chimney, about ten feet square at the base, with fireplaces on the sides and rear. South of it was the front entry, which, including the stairway, was eight by twelve feet. The lower floor was laid under the sill, which, projecting beyond the wall, formed a ledge around the bottom of the rooms wide enough for the children to sit upon. Stepping over the sill into the front entry, doors are seen on either hand opening into the front rooms; stairs on the right, lead, by two square landings and two turns to the left, to a passage over the entry, from which, at the right and left, doors lead to the chambers. In the rear of the chimney is a small, dark room, with stairs to the garret. Including the garret, there were five rooms in the main structure, each of them lighted by two windows with diamond panes set in lead.
In the centre of the lean-to was the kitchen, with windows in the rear; east of this was a bedroom, and west, the buttery and back entry. The fireplace was a deep cavern, the jambs and back at right angles to each other and the floor.
At the sides, hanging on spikes driven into pieces of wood built into the structure for the purpose, were the long-handled frying-pan, the pot-hook, the boring iron, the branding iron, the long iron peel, the roasting hook, the fire-pan, the scoop-shaped fire-shovel, with a trivet or two. The stout slice and tongs lean against the jambs in front.
In one end was the oven, its mouth flush with the back of the fireplace. In this nook, when the oven was not in use, stood a wooden bench on which the children could sit and study the catechism and spelling-book by firelight, or watch the stars through the square tower above their heads, the view interrupted only by the black, shiny lug-pole, and its great trammels; or in the season, its burden of hams and flitches of pork or venison, hanging to be cured in the smoke. The mantle-tree was a huge beam of oak, protected from the blaze only by the current of cold air constantly ascending. The preparation of fuel was no light task, and "building a fire" was no misnomer. The foundation was a "back-log," two or three feet in diameter; in front of this the "fore-stick," considerably smaller, both lying on the ashes; on them lay the "top-stick," half as big as the back-log. All these were usually of green wood. In front of this pile was a stack of split wood, branches, chips, and cobs, or, if cob-irons were present, the smaller wood was laid horizontally across these. The logs would last several days, and be renewed when necessary, but the fire was not allowed to go out. Should this happen, the fire-pan was sent to a neighbor for coals, or the tin lantern with a candle for a light. In default of neighbors, the tinder-box, or flint-lock musket with a wad of tow were used to evoke a spark. "Tending fire" meant renewing the lighter parts of the fuel; for this purpose, there was, in prudent families, a generous pile of dry cord-wood in the kitchen. With these appliances, considerable warmth was felt in the room; the larger part of the heat, however, was lost up the huge chimney. Fresh air rushed in at every crack and cranny to supply this great draft; and, although the windows were small, and the walls lined with brick, there was no lack of ventilation. In this condition of things, the high-backed settle in front of the blazing fire was a cozy seat. It was the place of honor for the heads of the family and distinguished guests. Sometimes the settle was placed permanently on one side of the fireplace, the seat hung on leather hinges, under which was the "pot-hole," where smaller pots, spiders, skillets, and kettles were stored.
The fireplaces in the front rooms were of the same pattern, but smaller than that in the kitchen. Fires were seldom built there except at weddings, funerals, or on state occasions. The furniture, for the most part home-made, rude and unpainted, was scanty—a few stools, benches, and split-bottomed chairs; a table or two, plain chests, rude, low bedsteads, with home-made ticks filled with straw or pine needles. The best room may have had a carved oak chest, brought from England, a tent or field bedstead, with green baize, or white dimity curtains, and generous feather bed. The stout tick for this, the snow-white sheets, the warm flannel blankets, and heavy woollen rugs, woven in checks of black, or red, and white, or the lighter harperlet, were all the products of domestic wheel and loom. There were no carpets. The floors were sprinkled with fine, white sand, which, on particular occasions, was brushed into fanciful patterns with a birch broom, or bundle of twigs. The style of painting floors called "marbling," hardly yet extinct, was a survival of this custom.
The finishing of the "Indian House" was more elaborate than that of the Smead house; but there was no lath and plaster, the ceiling being the same. The partitions and walls were of wainscot-work, with mouldings about the doors and windows. These mouldings were all cut by hand from solid wood. In some cases the oak summer-tree was smoothed and left bare, with a capital cut on the supporting posts; generally, hereabouts, it was covered with plain boards,—it may be, in the best room, with panels. No finer lumber is found than that with which these old houses were finished.
Their massive frames, each stout tenon fitted to its shapely mortise by the try rule, whose foundations were laid by our sires so long ago that the unsubdued savage still roamed in the forest where its timbers were hewn, stand as firmly as when the master-builder dismissed the tired neighbors, who had heaved up the huge beams, and pinned the last rafter to its mate (for there were no ridgepoles) at the raising.