My friend's log-house, as a first, is one of the best I have seen, having one large room and a chamber over it, to which you climb by a ladder. It has, at present, no windows, but when the doors are shut the crevices between the rough logs admit light and air enough, above and below. It is five yards square and twenty feet high. At a little distance stand a stable for two horses, a corn crib, a pig-stye, and a store; for store-keeping is his intention, and it is a good one. Two beds in the room below, and one above, lodge us in the following manner; myself and Mr. Ingle in one bed; in the second, by our side, sleep six fine but dirty children; and in the chamber, Mrs. Ingle and a valuable English maid. Thus, on my account, husband and wife are divided. It is not unusual for a male and female to sleep in the same room uncurtained, holding conversation while in bed. In a yard adjoining the house are three sows and pigs half starved, and several cows, calves, and horses, very poor, having no grass, no pasture, but with bells about their necks, {236} eternally ringing. Shame, or rather what is called false shame, or delicacy, does not exist here. Males dress and undress before the females, and nothing is thought of it. Here is no servant. The maid is equal to the master. No boy, or man-servant. No water, but at half a mile distant. Mr. Ingle does all the jobs, and more than half the hewing, splitting, and ploughing. He is all economy, all dirty-handed industry. No wood is cut in readiness for morning fires. He and the axe procure it, and provender for the poor hungry cattle, pigs, and horses. His time is continually occupied, and the young boys just breeched are made useful in every possible way.
Nothing is English here but friendship and good-will.
