on at one end at right angles. The courtyard is in
the triangular space between. For some things this is a convenient
arrangement; but there still remains the disagreeableness of the noise,
and, at times, strong odours from the courtyard under the windows of the
dwelling-house. Nearly all farmsteads have awkwardly low ceilings, which
in a town would cause a close atmosphere, but are not so injurious in
the open country, with doors constantly ajar. In erecting a modern house
this defect would, of course, be avoided. The great thickness of the
walls is sometimes a deception; for in pulling down old buildings it is
occasionally found that the interior of the wall is nothing but loose
broken stones and bricks enclosed or rammed in between two walls. The
staircases are generally one of the worst features of the old houses,
being between a wall and a partition--narrow, dark, steep, and awkwardly
placed, and without windows or handrails. These houses were obviously
built for a people living much out of doors.

_JOHN SMITH'S SHANTY._

He was standing in the ditch leaning heavily upon the long handle of his
axe. It was a straight stick of ash, roughly shaved down to some sort of
semblance of smoothness, such as would have worked up an unpractised
hand into a mass of blisters in ten minutes' usage, but which glided
easily through those horny palms, leaving no mark of friction. The
continuous outdoor labour, the beating of innumerable storms, and the
hard, coarse fare, had dried up all the original moisture of the hand,
till it was rough, firm, and cracked or chapped like a piece of wood
exposed to the sun and weather. The natural oil of the skin, which gives
to the hand its beautiful suppleness and delicate sense of touch, was
gone like the sap in the tree he was felling, for it was early in the
winter. However the brow might perspire, there was no dampness on the
hand, and the helve of the axe was scarcely harder and drier. In order,
therefore, that the grasp might be firm, it was necessary to
artificially wet the palms, and hence that custom which so often
disgusts lookers-on, of spitting on the hands before commencing work.
This apparently gratuitous piece of dirtiness is in reality absolutely
necessary. Men with hands in this state have hardly any feeling in them;
they find it difficult to pick up anything small, as a pin--the fingers
fumble over it; and as for a pen, they hold it like a hammer. His chest
was open to