July, 1913 



AMERICAN HOMES AND GARDENS 



233 



in form and outline, over which vines clamber and flowers 

 riot in great profusion; where long pendant clusters of the 

 purple wistaria and the sweet yellow honeysuckle lovingly 

 intertwine with the graceful leaves of the woodbine. 



Like its companion, the house faces south, as was the 

 custom in those days, in order that the dwellers might get 

 the warmth of the sun which the bitter north wind stole 

 as it raced down the mouth of the big throated chimney. 

 The end faces the street and silhouettes the quaint roof 

 of the period as it slopes down to the time-honored lean-to 

 at the back. Nothing about the house has been changed, 

 even the clam shell mortar coping which forms the frieze 

 beneath the eaves in front, is still there. 



Surely nothing could more sweetly visualize one's idea 

 of home than this ancient cottage, the very personification 

 of peace and contentment. Flanked by the pink blossomed 

 orchard, it looks out on the village green with its liberty 

 pole towering majestically at the far end. Beyond the 

 common, stretches the little white enclosed graveyard, and 

 keeping it company, the broad country road winds past on 

 its march to the sea. It was here, amid these delightful 

 surroundings, that the young lad drank in the love of nature 

 which in after years served to inspire the words of the 

 ballad. Little wonder, this lovely picture soothed as well 

 as saddened the last days of the weary traveler. 



Payne thought his life a failure. Was it failure to have 

 lived a life that enabled him to write a song that nearly 

 100 years after its birth is still loved and cherished; a 

 song that has been translated into every language, sung in 

 every tongue and which so long as life shall last, will have 

 the power to strike the deepest chords in our nature and 



arouse in us the most ennobling thoughts? Payne himself, 

 when friendless and alone, many a time caught its appeal- 

 ing strains as it floated out to him from lowly cottage or 

 marble hall. If this is failure, then indeed his life was 

 spent in vain. 



So enshrined is this quiet gray cottage, with vines and 

 flowers, that one doesn't take in the fine simplicity of the 

 old Colonial doorway with its quaint brass knocker until 

 the end of the path is reached. Before the door is an 

 old mill stone, worn by countless generations of dwellers, 

 and ground down mayhap by Payne's own little hob nail 

 shoes as he passed in and out. 



Standing on the threshold you pause for a moment be- 

 tween the present and the past, and glimpse back of you the 

 old apple orchard at the side of the house and the gray 

 road winding to the dunes near the sea. Before you is the 

 tiny entry, its narrow winding stairs leading up to John 

 Howard's own little room beneath the stars, where through 

 the open window of a Summer night, drifts in the captivat- 

 ing odor of lilacs and apple blossoms, mingled with the 

 scent of the sea. 



Once within, a hundred or more years fall away. Here 

 no suggestion of modern life intrudes itself. So com- 

 pelling is the illusion that at a sound on the stairs, you 

 turn expectantly, thinking to see the winsome-faced lad 

 step over the threshold. No one appears, yet you feel he 

 is there in spirit, treading with you the well-worn boards 

 and living over again the days that are past. 



An interesting example of early Colonial architecture is 

 "Home, Sweet Home" by which name the Payne house is 

 known in Easthampton; built in a period when a huge 



The sitting-room in the "Home Sweet Home" house 



Copyright by G. H. Buek. 



