298 
A FARMER’S KITCHEN OF OLD TIMES IN NEW ENGLAND. 
A FARMER’S KITCHEN OF OLD TIMES IN NEW 
ENGLAND. 
A picture of one of these scenes of comfort has 
lately fallen under my observation. What can 
be more cheerful and pleasant than the view 
of a farmer’s kitchen, taken during the evening 
meal of a cool autumn day. It is a picture of 
the calm happiness of rural lifq. 
The kitchen of the old farm house of New 
England is not the scullery, or mere cooking 
place of some modern houses—a dirty hole or 
comfortless out room, or sort of human bake 
oven where the cook is almost as much cooked 
as the food. No, it is a room perhaps 24 feet 
long and 16 wide, well lighted, warm, neat, and 
every way comfortable. Upon one side, there 
is a fireplace large enough to roast a whole ox, 
in which a great fire of logs sends up a cheer¬ 
ful blaze, lighting up the whole room so its 
brightness might be seen through the great un¬ 
curtained windows like a beacon light to the 
traveller as he comes down the slope of yonder 
hill two miles away, and makes him involunta¬ 
rily thank God in anticipation, for the good 
things spread out upon the great table standing 
between the window and the fire. 
Let us take note of this old-fashioned meal. 
At the head of the table sits a matron of some 
60 summers—though in appearance there is 
nothing of the winter of old age about her— 
her dress is a gown of homespun worsted, well 
fortified with flannels from the same manufac¬ 
tory, that bid defiance to the autumn winds of 
a rigorous climate. She wears a cap on the 
head, and shoes, and stockings upon the feet 
that were made in pursuance of the best medi¬ 
cal recipe ever written—■“ Keep the head cool and 
r&nd the fee t dry and warm”—for the stockings 
a-re the product of busy fingers at idle moments 
with many housewives, and the shoes of stout 
leather., were mode for service, and the cap is 
a mere ornament—a snow wreath among raven 
locks-^and §er face is the indication of health 
and happiness. Upon her right hand, sits the 
farmer, dressed in a butternut-colored coat, blue 
pan>ts, buff vest, white linen shirt—every article 
homemade—-stout hoots and black silk cravat— 
for he has been to town, and this is his holiday 
suit. Below him sits Jedediah, Marvin, Abram, 
and Solomon, all, economical names , for they can 
be shortened in common use to Jed, Marv, Ab, 
and Sol. Two of these wear the check-woollen 
winter frock of New-England farmers—the oth¬ 
ers are in round jackets—they are school boys. 
Upon the left, sits Mary, Adeline, and Meheta- 
heJ, pictures of rural beauty and health. The 
eldest is “ drest up;” she has been to town 
with father; she has a gown of “ boughten 
stuff,” around her neck is a boa of colored lamb’s 
wool, knit by her own hands, fastened in the 
throat with grandmother’s silver broach. The 
other two are in check woollen, spun, wove, 
colored, and made up under the same roof 
Further down the table are three athletic young 
men, day laborers upon the farm—sons of neigh¬ 
boring farmers—-one of whom is eyeing the 
charms of the sweet face of Mary with an ex¬ 
pression easily read by a good physiognomist. 
The group is completed by the schoolmaster, a 
young man with a glowing eye which speaks 
of an intellect that will tell upon the world 
some day with as much force as though he had 
not been obliged to obtain his education by 
summer labor and winter teaching. He is one 
of New England’s rising sons. The meal is for 
men who toil. At one end of the table, stands a 
pot of ample dimensions smoking from the great 
oven; flanking the fireplace, of that most excel¬ 
lent of New-England cookeries, 
M A dish of baked beans,” 
crowned with a great square piece of salt fat 
pork, crisped and rich. Lower down, a broad 
pewter platter holds the remains of the “ boiled 
victuals” that formed the dinner—beef, pork, 
potatoes, cabbage, beets, and turnips—a pile 
that might rival a small hay cock in size and 
shape—a plate of rye and Indian bread, cold, 
and another made of rye flour are untouched; 
for a great loaf just drawn from the oven, nicely 
browned and hot, is offered in great broken 
pieces to tempt the appetite to one of the rich¬ 
est repasts ever given to an epicure. By the 
side of the old lady, stands a black earthen tea 
pot, the contents of which are freely offered, 
but only accepted by two of them, as the rich 
new milk or hearty old cider is preferred as a 
beverage, morning, noon, and night, by those 
old-fashioned hearty laborers. We must not 
forget the never-failing accompaniment of the 
evening meal at this season of the year in New 
England, for ’tis New England’s proudest dish, 
the golden pumpkin sweetest pie. 
God being thanked for his great bounties 
after the close of this happy meal, all draw into 
a circle around the great fireplace. Father is 
finishing off an axe helve, Jed is mending a pair 
of boots, and one of the hired men upon the oth¬ 
er side of the same bench is repairing a wagon 
harness—both use the same tools. The other 
two are employed, one shelling corn and the 
other helping Mary peal pumpkins, which are 
