As a prime requisite, our home must look upon a beautiful view. Here, beyond as far as the eye 
could reach, rose hills draped in Autumn’s most exquisite mantle 
UR house is built; we’ve lived in it long enough to have 
tried it out. Now, as I look back on the experiences we had 
in plodding up the rocky road to the making of a country home, I 
recollect many incidents — some mistakes, some successful short 
cuts—that may act as guide posts for the others who are planning 
for the delights of rural life. 
Our search ijor a building site carried us far and wide. Our 
first requisite was a good view; then David wanted it to be within 
commuting distance; finally, the air must be bracing the year 
round on account of the children. Hence the nomadic pursuit of 
our ideal. But success, as often, came unexpectedly. 
I hree years ago, while visiting in a place noted for its farming 
lands, we started out for a cross-country walk, and finally found 
ourselves on a high hill almost surrounded by a valley. Bevond, 
as far as the eye could reach, rose hills draped with autumn's most 
exquisite mantle. I laid my hand on David's arm. “Look!" I 
cried; "Isn’t this fairyland?" "It really seems as though by magic 
we have been led to the site for our home." David exclaimed, over 
the beauty of the view, and added with an air of bravado: "With¬ 
in a month this land will be ours." and we went our way rejoicing. 
I suppose ;f we had been old and prosy we would have care¬ 
fully considered all the obstacles which might arise from living 
in such an isolated spot; and then have decided whether, for the 
sake of its beauty, they would be worth surmounting. Did we 
consider the outrageously steep and ludicrously bumpy road which 
could only be improved by giant dentistry and corresponding 
expense? Never. 1 will modify that—not until one of our 
neighboring landowners refused to pay his share. Did the ques¬ 
tion of water supply and lighting trouble us? Not at all; at least 
not until we tried to secure these necessities. 
After we had bought the land—some six acres of meadow and 
woodland — the water supply was the first thing to consider. An 
artesian well had to be drilled at a cost of two dollars a foot. 
Up the Hill to Our 
House 
THE TRUE STORY OF THE JOYS AND 
DESPAIRS IN THE LABOR OF MAKING A 
HOME IN THE COUNTRY 
b y M a r x pi a McLeod 
Scientists claim that the earth is largely composed of 
water. 1 wonder if any of them have tried to prove 
their theory bv drilling a well. When the drill had 
descended 200 feet, and still no water, our spirits and 
money sank with it. We labored on. however, and on 
reaching 225 feet, water was joyfully declared, but to 
our sorrow, when the flow was tested, there proved to 
be a supply of only four gallons a minute. What 
should we do; drill immediately till water came and 
our funds had gone, or should we blast? 
In the last case, only one of two things could hap¬ 
pen; we would either have a bountiful supply of 
water, or the well would be ruined. I wildly sug¬ 
gested to David to leave matters as they were, and 
get along with the trickle of water from the well, and 
use the brook which lav 100 feet from the house 
down a steep hill, for our daily plunges. He looked 
at me anxiously to see if the strain had drilled a hole 
in my brain, and gently reminded me that the brook 
dried up in summer and froze in winter. When the 
morning arrived upon which we had decided to blast, 
1 ran up the hill to be present at the crucial moment. 1 sat on a 
rock which we had placed in the center of the site where the house 
was to he. But was the house to he ? That was the question: 
“To he or not to be," my brain kept saying, till suddenly there was 
a shock. A quick test was made of the flow. 
“Oceans of water!” yelled the engineer; “Enough to drown 
you !’’ 
We installed a 2,000 air-pressure tank, motor and a gasolene 
engine. When electricity was available we could joyfully dis¬ 
card the engine. We found that the mistake we made in our 
water supply was placing the tank at the bottom of the hill thirty- 
five feet below the level of the cellar floor, thereby necessitating a 
greater air-pressure in the tank to overcome the thirty-five-foot 
gravity, but on the whole the system has been satisfactory. 
Now we could turn our thoughts to the plans for the house. 
With regard to its location, we were fortunate in every respect. 
The property lay due east and west, while the best view looked! 
toward the northeast. Placing our house across the corner of the 
property, the length of the house ran northwest and southeast. 
Bringing the kitchen to the front, we gave the important rooms the 
best outlook, and, as the living-room and master's bed-room 
above took up the entire southeast end of the house, they com¬ 
manded the distant view, the sun and the prevailing breeze. 
We had spent many hours since buying the land in looking over 
hooks and magazines for suggestions for the house. This does 
not mean that our minds were barren on the subject, for every¬ 
one, from the cave dweller to the foremost architect, has had 
dreams of certain features which he longs to carry out in his home, 
and which reflect his character. I never remember having seen a 
thatched roof, except in the illustrations of Andrew Lang’s Fairy 
Books, which I devoured volume after volume. The thatched 
roof, from under which might emerge either enchanted princes or 
witch, grew to be the symbol of all impossibly delicious romance. 
(180) 
