UNBUILDING A BUILDING 27 



after blow you drive upon this board from be- 

 neath, till all the nails are loose, its shingle-fet- 

 ters outside snap, and with a surge it rises, to 

 fall grating down the roof, and land with a crash 

 on the grass by the old door-stone. 



The morning sun shines in at the opening, set- 

 ting golden motes dancing, and caressing rafters 

 that have not felt its touch for a hundred and 

 fifty years, and you feel a little sob of sorrow 

 swell in your heart, for the old house is dead, be- 

 yond hope of resurrection. With your crowbar 

 you have knocked it in the head. 



Other boards follow more easily, for now you 

 may use a rafter for the fulcrum of your iron 

 lever and pry where the long nails grip the oak 

 too tenaciously, and it is not long before you have 

 the roof unboarded. And here you may have a 

 surprise and be taught a lesson in wariness 

 which you will need if you would survive your 

 unbuilding. The bare rafters, solid oak, six 

 inches square, hewn from the tree, as adze-marks 

 prove, are halved together at the top and pinned 

 with an oak pin. At the lower end, where they 

 stand upon the plates, they are not fastened, but 

 rest simply on a V-shaped cut, and when the last 



