222 HOW TO MAKE A COUNTRY PLACE 



pioneer block house aspect to our cabin, a bit suggestive of the squint- 

 eye window of a Saxon hall. 



Flambeau Fireplace. 



The log cabin chimney had not only a giant hearthstone, but a 

 flambeau fireplace. A separate flue built above the stone mantel, and 

 the fire barriered by a heavy iron grilled front, was a quaint conceit 

 that never grew tiresome, as quaint conceits often do. Those were 

 never-to-be-forgotten days when our big flashing wall candle of pitch 

 pine knots, a relic of mediaeval times, fitfully threw weird shadows 

 to the deepest recesses of vaulted hall, over banquet board and merry 

 dancers. An iron floor grate increased the up-draught and safely dis- 

 posed of ashes in a clean-out pocket. 



At one end of our imitation of a Saxon-thayne timbered hall 

 a dais not only served for a dining room platform but made a fine 

 view point from which to take in the goodly proportions and distinc- 

 tive features of the big hall. From it opened a door to an old Saxon 

 bower room and at one side a Dutch door led to pantry and kitchen. 

 A cedar-railed staircase crossed one end of the high raftered hall 

 above the front door, and trailed upward to the lookout on the roof, 

 stopping at the first corridor to land and receive passengers. We 

 even essayed to trim the den with weather-beaten wood, but it soon 

 grew monotonous, and caught both dust and clothing. 



Beneath the unplastered shingle roof were extra sleeping 

 rooms. When the cares of the big house with its guests and ser- 

 vants made nervous prostration imminent, the log cabin was a most 

 delightful retreat and on cool fall nights the patter of raindrops on 

 its shingle roof as rhythmical as that purling brook of the poet, that 

 "goes on forever," lulled us to sleep in its prophet's chamber. In an 

 inner sanctum of that same garret where we treasured what time 

 had yellowed and odored, a fagged out, ennuied present drew inspira- 

 tion from an angular, puritanical past. 



One interesting mantel was of gray weather-beaten boards and 

 fence posts, over-mantel decorated with berry-laden branches, the 

 whole copied from a scheme worked out by some artist friends. 



A White Kitchen. 



Returning from the detour to the log cabin let us re-enter Pin- 

 nacle by way of the white kitchen yes, woodwork and doors enam- 

 eled white and floor and walls white tiled, with ceiling of metal 

 nailed over the plastering, a room that could be easily hosed, or, as 

 the English housewife has it, "swilled."' Cooking utensils were 

 mostly of aluminum, and hung in plain sight, so that their condition 

 could be seen at a glance. 



In the centre of the room stood a large cooking table, with 

 adjustable soapstone top, preferable to marble, as it can be planed 

 smooth whenever worn, leaving no scratch wherein the elusive 



