duties we accomplished before we had occupied our new
home a fortnight. There was a small saw-mill nine miles
from our cabin, on the spot that is now Big Rapids, and
there we bought our lumber. The labor we supplied
ourselves, and though we put our hearts into it and the
results at the time seemed beautiful to our partial eyes, I
am forced to admit, in looking back upon them, that they
halted this side of perfection. We began by making three
windows and two doors; then, inspired by these
achievements, we ambitiously constructed an attic and
divided the ground floor with partitions, which gave us
four rooms.

The general effect was temperamental and sketchy.
The boards which formed the floor were never even
nailed down; they were fine, wide planks without a knot in
them, and they looked so well that we merely fitted them
together as closely as we could and lightheartedly let them
go at that. Neither did we properly chink the house.
Nothing is more comfortable than a log cabin which has
been carefully built
and finished; but for some reason--probably because
there seemed always a more urgent duty calling to us
around the corner--we never plastered our house at all.
The result was that on many future winter mornings we
awoke to find ourselves chastely blanketed by snow, while
the only warm spot in our living-room was that directly in
front of the fireplace, where great logs burned all day.
Even there our faces scorched while our spines slowly
congealed, until we learned to revolve before the fire like a