front on whichever side it might happen to be seen; for, as it was
exposed to all eyes in all weathers, there should be no weak flank for
envy or unneighborly criticism to assail. It was therefore decided
that the roof should be flat, and with four faces. To this
arrangement, Marmaduke objected the heavy snows that lay for months,
frequently covering the earth to a depth of three or four feet.
Happily the facilities of the composite order presented themselves to
effect a compromise, and the rafters were lengthened, so as to give a
descent that should carry off the frozen element. But, unluckily,
some mistake was made in the admeasurement of these material parts of
the fabric; and, as one of the greatest recommendations of Hiram was
his ability to work by the “square rule,” no opportunity was found of
discovering the effect until the massive timbers were raised on the
four walls of the building. Then, indeed, it was soon seen that, in
defiance of all rule, the roof was by far the most conspicuous part of
the whole edifice. Richard and his associate consoled themselves with
the relief that the covering would aid in concealing this unnatural
elevation; but every shingle that was laid only multiplied objects to
look at. Richard essayed to remedy the evil with paint, and four
different colors were laid on by his own hands. The first was a sky-
blue, in the vain expectation that the eye might be cheated into the
belief it was the heavens themselves that hung so imposingly over
Marmaduke’s dwelling; the second was what he called a “cloud-color,”
being nothing more nor less than an imitation of smoke; the third was
what Richard termed an invisible green, an experiment that did not
succeed against a background of sky. Abandoning the attempt to
conceal, our architects drew upon their invention for means to
ornament the offensive shingles.

After much deliberation and two or three essays by moonlight, Richard