The Fat of the Land | Page 6

boundary before turning back.
I looked with special interest at the orchard, which was on the northeast

forty. I had seen it on my first visit, but had given it little attention,
noting merely that the trees were well grown. I now counted the rows,
and found that there were twelve; the trees in each row had originally
been twenty, and as these trees were about thirty-five feet apart, it was
easy to estimate that six acres had been given to this orchard. The
vicissitudes of seventeen years had not been without effect, and there
were irregular gaps in the rows,--here a sick tree, there a dead one. A
careless estimate placed these casualties at fifty-five or sixty, which I
later found was nearly correct. This left 180 trees in fair health; and in
spite of the tight sod which covered their roots and a lamentable lack of
pruning, they were well covered with young fruit. They had been
headed high in the old-fashioned way, which made them look more like
forest trees than a modern orchard. They had done well without a
husbandman; what could not others do with one?
The group of farm buildings on the north forty consisted of a one-story
cottage containing six rooms--sitting room, dining room, kitchen, and a
bedroom opening off each--with a lean-to shed in the rear, and some
woe-begone barns, sheds, and out-buildings that gave the impression of
not caring how they looked. The second group was better. It was south
of the orchard on the home forty, and quite near the road.
Why does the universal farm-house hang its gable over the public road,
without tree or shrub to cover its boldness? It would look much better,
and give greater comfort to its inmates, if it were more remote. A lawn
leading up to a house, even though not beautiful or well kept, adds
dignity and character to a place out of all proportion to its waste or
expense. I know of nothing that would add so much to the
beautification of the country-side as a building line prohibiting houses
and barns within a hundred yards of a public road. A staring, glaring
farm-house, flanked by a red barn and a pigsty, all crowding the public
road as hard as the path-master will permit, is incongruous and
unsightly. With all outdoors to choose from, why ape the crowded city
streets? With much to apologize for in barn and pigsty, why place them
in the seat of honor? Moreover, many things which take place on the
farm gain enchantment from distance. It is best to leave some scope for
the imagination of the passer-by. These and other things will change as

farmers' lives grow more gracious, and more attention is given to
beautifying country houses.
The house, whose gables looked up and down the street, was two
stories in height, twenty-five feet by forty in the main, with a one-story
ell running back. Without doubt there was a parlor, sitting room, and
four chambers in the main, with dining room and kitchen in the ell.
"That will do for the head man's house, if we put it in the right place
and fix it up," said Polly.
"My young lady, I propose to be the 'head man' on this farm, and I wish
it spelled with a capital H, but I do not expect to live in that house. It
will do first-rate for the farmer and his men, when you have placed it
where you want it, but I intend to live in the big house with you."
"We'll not disagree about that, Mr. Headman."
The barns were fairly good, but badly placed. They were not worth the
expense of moving, so I decided to let them stand as they were until we
could build better ones, and then tear them down.
We drove in through a clump of trees behind the farm-house, and
pushed on about three hundred yards to the crest of the knoll. Here we
got out of the carriage and looked about, with keen interest, in every
direction. The views were wide toward three points of the compass.
North and northwest we could see pleasant lands for at least two miles;
directly west, our eyes could not reach beyond our own forest; to the
south and southwest, fruitful valleys stretched away to a range of
wooded hills four miles distant; but on the east our view was limited by
the fringe of woods which lay between us and the north-and-south road.
"This is the exact spot for the house," said Polly. "It must face to the
south, with a broad piazza, and the chief entrance must be on the east.
The kitchens and fussy things will be out of sight on the northwest
corner; two stories, a high attic