"In what does it consist?"

"Princ.i.p.ally in the newness of the one, and the oldness of the other.

There, what one sees reminds him of the past; here, he beholds only presentiments of the future."

"There is a great difference, I am told, and read too, in the style of building."

"You may well say that. Here there is no style. Our houses are models of bad taste, and pretty much all alike. The time will undoubtedly come when we shall have a domestic architecture, but it will require some years before we get rid of narrow cornices, innumerable small windows, and exclusive white paint."

"You should make allowances for us," said Armstrong, deprecatingly.

"Consider the poverty of a new country, and the material that poverty compels us to use."

"I am willing to allow the excuse all the weight it deserves, but I cannot understand how poverty can be an excuse for bad taste, or why because wood is used, a house may not be made to have an attractive appearance. I think there are other reasons more efficacious than the plea of poverty, which can, indeed, no longer be made."

"Come, come," said Armstrong, "you do not love anything about us Puritans, and your objections, if politeness would allow you to speak them out plainly, would be found to contain a fling at Calvin's children; but hearken, if I cannot find excuses to satisfy even you."

"I shall listen eagerly, but must correct you in one thing. I not only love some things about the Puritans, but some Puritans themselves."

"Surely, I know it. But now listen to my defence. The first settlement of the country was attended with a great many hardships. The country was colder than the immigrants were accustomed to; they arrived in the winter, and the first thing to be attended to was to secure shelter.

Under these circ.u.mstances you will admit that attention to the principles of architecture was not to be expected. They knocked up houses as cheaply, and plainly, and rapidly as possible, content if they kept out wind and weather. Wood was preferred, because it was cheaper, and quicker worked. Thus lived the first generation. The condition of the second was somewhat improved; they had become accustomed to their houses and were tolerably satisfied. The third had never seen anything better, and not having the means of comparison, could not make it to their own disadvantage, and finally, as man is a creature of custom and habit, and reverence, they learned to regard a style of building that had sprung out of the necessities of their ancestors, as an evidence not only of good sense, but of good taste.

The immigrants, arriving from time to time, might have disabused them, but these would naturally fall into the ways and sentiments of the people, and were their tastes ever so ambitious, probably had not the means to gratify them. This is the origin, and thus is to be explained the continuance of American architecture."

"An architecture," said the Judge, "that would have driven a Greek out of his senses. But though I will not quarrel with you about its origin, does not its perpetuation for so long a time affect the character of our countrymen for taste?"

"It will pa.s.s away," said Armstrong, gloomily, "and with it the stern virtues that are of more importance than a trifle like this."

"There can be no connection between an improvement in architecture, and a deterioration of morals."

"Prosperity brings wealth, and wealth is the means to gratify the caprices of luxury and taste. Perhaps, at some future day when stone and marble shall have susperseded wood and brick; and magnificent Grecian and Gothic temples, resplendent in stained gla.s.s, taken the places of the humble, unpretentious meeting-houses, the thoughtful and judicious will sigh for those times of primitive simplicity, when an humble heart was more than an ostentatious offering, and G.o.d's word was listened to devoutly on hard seats instead of being dozed over in cushioned pews."

"You are becoming gloomy, Armstrong," said the Judge. "This will never do. Progress, man, progress I tell you is the word. The world is improving every day. Banish these sick fancies."

Armstrong shook his head. "I envy you," he said, "your hopeful and joyous spirit, while I know you are mistaken."

"Well, well, my friend, I wish I could give you a portion of it. But to come back to where we started from. After finding so much fault, it is time to praise. However we may ridicule the ugliness of our houses, this much must be admitted in favor of our villages and country towns, that in cleanliness and an appearance of substantial comfort, they infinitely surpa.s.s their rivals in Europe. I do not except the villages in England. Who can walk through one of our New England country towns, where majestic elms throw their shadows over s.p.a.cious streets, and the white rose clambers over the front doors of the neat, white painted houses, standing back a rod or two from the street with gardens stretching behind, while Peace and Plenty bless the whole, and not be grateful for a scene so fair, for a land so fortunate!"

They had now arrived in sight of the Judge's farm-house, which stood at some distance from the main road, from which a lane planted on both sides with maples, led to it. As they drove along the Judge pointed out the changes he had made since he became the owner.

"When I purchased the property," he said, "the house looked very differently. It was stuck full of little insignificant windows that affected me like staring eyes; its two or three inches of cornice stole timidly out, as if ashamed of itself, over the side, and the whole wore an awkward and sheepish air. It made me uncomfortable every time I looked at it, and I resolved upon an alteration. So I shut up half the windows, and increased the size where I could, and threw out a cornice, which, besides the merit of beauty, has the practical advantage (that is the national word, I believe) of acting as an umbrella to protect the sides against the mid-day heat of the sun in summer, and the storms in winter. Besides, I added the veranda, which runs nearly the whole length of the front."

"I confess it is an improvement upon the ancestral style," said Armstrong.

"I expected the acknowledgment from your natural taste, which is excellent," said the Judge laughing, "except when corrupted by traditional prejudices. I must take care of my horse myself, I suspect," he added, as they drove up to the door: "the men are probably all in the fields. He will stand, however, well enough under this shed." So saying, and after Armstrong had alighted at the door, he drove the horse under a shed, near the barn, and fastened him; then joining Armstrong, the two entered the house.

"La, Judge!" said Mrs. Perkins, the farmer's wife who received them, smoothing down her check ap.r.o.n, "you take us by surprise to-day. We didn't expect you, and the men-folks is all in the lot. Didn't you find your ride very warm?"

"Not very; and if it had been, the pleasure of seeing you, Mrs.

Perkins, would more than compensate for any annoyance from the heat."

"You are so polite, Judge," replied Mrs. Perkins, simpering. "I declare you are equal to a Frenchman."

With all his French education, this was a remark the Judge would have been willing to dispense with; however on the French principle of considering that as a compliment, the meaning of which is equivocal, he bowed and introduced Mr. Armstrong.

Mrs. Perkins courtesied. "She'd heard," she said, "of Mr. Armstrong, and that he had the handsomest daughter, in the town of Hillsdale."

"It is your turn now," whispered the Judge. "Let me see how you will acquit yourself."

But Armstrong was not a man for compliments.

"Faith looks as well as young ladies generally I believe," he said.

Mrs. Perkins did not like to have her pretty speech received with so much indifference, so she answered,

"I was, perhaps, too much in a hurry when I called Squire Armstrong's daughter, the handsomest: I forgot Anne, and she's a right to be, sence she's got her father's good looks."

"Dear Mrs Perkins, you overwhelm me!" exclaimed the Judge, bowing still lower than before. "I think higher than ever of your taste."

"Ah! You're poking fun at me, me now," said Mrs. Perkins, hardly knowing how to receive the acknowledgment. "But wouldn't you like to take something after your ride?"

Those were not the days of temperance societies, and it would have been quite _secundum regulas_, had the gentlemen accepted the offer as intended by their hostess. The Judge looked at Armstrong, who declined, and then turning to Mrs. Perkins said,

"The strawberry season is not over, I believe"--

"Oh! I can give you strawberries and cream," interrupted the hospitable Mrs. Perkins.

"And would you be so kind as to give them to us in the veranda? The sun does not shine in, and it will be pleasanter in the open air."

"Sartainly. Eliza Jane!" she cried, elevating her voice and speaking through an open door to one of her little daughters, with a blooming mult.i.tude of whom Providence had blessed her,

"Eliza Jane, fetch two cheers into the piazza. That piazza, Judge, is one of the grandest things that ever was. The old man and me and the children, take ever so much comfort in it."

"I am glad you like it. But we will spare your daughter the trouble of taking out the chairs, and carry them ourselves."

"Not for the world, Judge, for I think it's best to make children useful."

Accordingly Eliza Jane brought the chairs, and the mother retiring with her, soon returned with the little girl, bearing in her hands a tray containing the strawberries and cream. The Judge kissed the child, and gave her a half dollar to buy a ribbon for her bonnet.

"I do declare Judge!" cried the mother, whose gratified looks contradicted the language, "you'll spoil Eliza Jane."

"A child of yours cannot be spoiled, Mrs. Perkins," said the Judge, "as long as she is under your eye. With your example before her, she is sure to grow up a good and useful woman."

"Well, I try to do my duty by her," said Mrs. Perkins, "and I don't mean it shall be any fault of mine, if she ain't."

It was nearly sunset by the time the gentlemen had finished, when the Judge proposed to visit a piece of wood he was clearing at no great distance from the house. Armstrong acquiesced, and they started off, Mrs. Perkins saying, she should expect them to stop to tea.

Their route lay through some woods and in the direction of the Wootuppocut, on whose banks the clearing was being made. As they approached, they could hear, more and more distinctly, the measured strokes of an axe, followed soon by the crash of a falling tree. Then, as they came still nearer, a rustling could be distinguished among the leaves and the sound of the cutting off of limbs. And now they heard the bark of a dog, and a man's voice ordering him to stop his noise.

"Keep still, Tige!" said the voice. "What's the use of making such a racket? I can't hear myself think. I say stop your noise! shut up!"