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HOW TO MAKE A COUNTRY PLACE 



A house of flesh and blood is Shore Rocks. It is, like Pinnacle, 

 representative of the building experience of nearly two score of years, 

 and many of my air castles are in it woven into reality. To me it 

 embodies solid comfort and completeness of appointment, but it was 

 a far cry from its inception to the pulling of the latch-string. 



SHORE ROCKS. 



Water Lawn Groomed by Nature. 



Volcanic-veined and lichen-rifted rock and boulder, both under 

 and over cliff, stood where we blasted out its cellar. It seemed down- 

 right sacrilege to swing the axe against the gnarled and twisted cedar 

 that had staunchly breasted the storms of two hundred and fifty years 

 or to destroy the moss grown and beautifully veined ledges with wedge, 

 drill, and dynamite; but the choice was made, and today my dream of 

 years, with its forty rooms, outlying pergolas, bathing pool, and yacht 

 pier is a reality. The house is embowered in trees and every main room 

 possesses an uninterrupted outlook across the Sound a water lawn of 

 many miles groomed by nature, one of man's care-free legacies, present- 

 ing an ever changing kaleidoscope of beauty. 



Over the entrance of Shore Rocks is a chain-hung marquise, partly 

 enclosed with a glassed-in vestibule, that essential hall draught-stopper, 

 while on the brick outer posts are quaint non-rusting metal lamps. The 

 cement and red tiled platform with metal edge and inset door mat is 

 ornamented at its corners by lions, the platform being indented at the 

 centre, forming a base pedestal support at each side. Cement joints 

 between the tiling are three-quarters of an inch in width. All eave 

 spoutheads are duplicates of Notre Dame gargoyles. 



