hey had not then the power to harness. There were good
mill sites on Country Brook below the log house, but probably some
other settler had secured them, and Thomas Whittier found in the
smaller stream on his own estate a fairly good water power. Fernside
Brook is a tributary of Country Brook. Probably this decided the
selection of the site for a house which was to be a home for generation
after generation of his descendants. The dam recently restored is at
the same spot where stood the Whittier mill, and in making repairs some
of the timbers of the ancient mill were found. Parts of the original
walls of the dam are now to be seen on each side of the brook, but the
mill had disappeared long before Whittier was born. Further up the
brook were two other dams, used as reservoirs. The lower dam when
perfect was high enough to enable the family to bring water to house
and barn in pipes.

When entering the grounds, notice the "bridle-post" at the left of the
gate, and a massive boulder in which rude steps are cut for mounting a
horse led up to its side:--

"The bridle-post an old man sat
With loose-flung coat and high cocked hat."

Like all of Whittier's descriptions, this is an exact picture of what
he had in mind; for this stone, after a great snowstorm, would assume
just this appearance. As to the phrase, "the well-curb had a Chinese
roof," I once asked him how this well could have had a roof, as the
"long sweep high aloof" would have interfered with it. He stood by the
side of the well, and explained that there was no roof, but that there
was a shelf on one side of the curb on which to rest the bucket. The
snow piled up on this like a Chinese roof. The isolation of the
homestead referred to in the phrase, "no social smoke curled over
woods of snow-hung oak," has not been broken in either of the centuries
this house has stood. No other house was ever to be seen from it in any
direction. And yet neighbors are within a half-mile, only the hills and
forests hide their habitations from view. When the wind is right, the
bells of Haverhill may be faintly heard, and the roar of ocean after a
storm sometimes penetrates as a hoarse murmur in this valley.

In the old days, before these hills were robbed of the oaken growths
that crowned their summits, their apparent height was much increased,
and the isolation rendered even more complete than now. Sunset came
much earlier than it did outside this valley. The eastern hill