84 AROUND AN OLD HOMESTEAD. 



the open woodshed; and beyond that a little, across to 

 the south from the carriage house, is the chicken yard, 

 where, in the fruit season, the unhappy fowls must 

 repose with clipped wings, and take their dust baths 

 beneath the shade of sunflowers, whose seeds later on 

 they will devour with the greatest relish. 



The smokehouse once a year is the place for smok- 

 ing the hams and bacons, when films and threads of 

 white slowly issue from every crack and fissure between 

 the boards and shingles, so that it looks from a dis- 

 tance as if the structure were on fire. The blaze be- 

 neath the hanging hams, which are suspended from 

 hooks nailed on the cross-beams, is generally made 

 of green hickory and corncobs, and these give a sort 

 of tang to the taste. It is sometimes also the repository 

 of the big camp kettles, when unused, during the year. 

 The woodshed is filled with all the store of fuel for 



the stove and fireplace — 

 great backlogs of beech and 

 maple, foresticks of these 

 also, and of hickory, apple, 

 ash, and wood of every de- 

 scription gathered about the 

 farm. Above the tiers of 

 wood, on a framework of 

 boards, are piled the hun- 

 dred or more buckets of the 

 sugar camp. Here, too, In 

 a corner, is a barrel of sour 

 milk and other delicacies 

 for the hogs. 



The carriage house shel- 



THE SMOKEHOUSE. 



