months I never saw my mother and sisters, or went to church? It was very
pleasant inside.

I seem still to see the square, home-like central room of the old house,
with Mr. Stewart's bed in one corner, covered with a great robe of pieced
panther skins. The smoky rafters above were hung with strings of onions,
red-peppers, and long ears of Indian corn, the gold of which shone through
pale parted husks and glowed in the firelight. The rude home-made table,
chairs, and stools stood in those days upon a rough floor of hewn planks,
on projecting corners of which an unlucky toe was often stubbed. There
were various skins spread on this floor, and others on the log walls, hung
up to dry. Over the great stone mantel were suspended Mr. Stewart's guns,
along with his sword and pistols. Back in the corners of the fireplace
were hung traps, nets, and the like, while on the opposite side of the
room was the master's bookcase, well filled with volumes in English,
Latin, and other tongues. Three doors, low and unpanelled, opened from
this room to the other chambers of the house--leading respectively to the
kitchen, to my room, and to the room now set apart for my aunt and
little Daisy.

No doubt it was a poor abode, and scantily enough furnished, judged by
present standards, but we were very comfortable in it, none the less. I
worked pretty hard that winter on my Latin, conning Caesar for labor and
Dr. Erasmus for play, and kept up my other studies as well, reading for
the first time, I remember, the adventures of Robinson Crusoe. For the
rest, I busied myself learning to make snow-shoes, to twist cords out of
flax, to mould bullets, and to write legibly, or else played with
Daisy and Tulp.

To confess how simply we amused ourselves, we three little ones, would be