or would rear a cabin which would shut out wind and rain as
effectually as the gorgeous walls of Windsor or Versailles.
No jets of gas or gleam of wax candles ever illumined an apartment more
brilliantly than the flashing blaze of the wood fire. And though the
refectories of the Palais Royal may furnish more scientific cookery
than the emigrant's hut, they cannot furnish fatter turkeys, or more
tender venison, or more delicious cuts from the buffalo and the bear
than are often found browning before the coals of the log cabin. And
when we take into consideration the voracious appetites engendered in
those wilds, we shall see that the emigrant needed not to look with
envy upon the luxuriantly spread tables of Paris or New York.
Upon the crystal banks of the Mulberry River, David, aided by his
father-in-law, reared his log cabin. It is a remote and uncultivated
region even now. Then it was an almost unbroken wilderness, the axe of
the settler having rarely disturbed its solitude.
A suitable spot for the cabin was selected, and a space of about
fifteen feet by twenty feet was marked out and smoothed down for the
floor. There was no cellar. Trees near by, of straight trunks, were
felled and trimmed, and cut into logs of suitable length. These were
piled one above another, in such a way as to enclose the space, and
were held in their place by being notched at the corners. Rough boards
were made for the roof by splitting straight-grained logs about four
feet long.
The door was made by cutting or sawing the logs on one side of the hut,
about three feet in width. This opening was secured by upright pieces
of timber pinned to the end of the logs. A similar opening was left in
the end for the chimney, which was built of logs outside of the hut.
The back and jambs of the fireplace was of stone. A hole about two feet
square constituted the window. Frequently the floor was the smooth,
solid earth. A split slab supported by sticks driven into auger-holes,
formed a table. A few three-legged stools supplied the place of chairs.
Some wooden pins, driven into holes bored in the logs, supported
shelves. A bedstead was framed by a network of poles in one corner.
Such was the home which David and his kind father reared in a few days.
It will be perceived that it was but little in advance of the wigwam of
the Indian. Still it afforded a comfortable shelter for men, women, and
children who had no aspirations above a mere animal life;
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