I

Chapter XVII

THE HOUSE AND RURAL ECONOMY OF THE

FLATS BIRDS AND INSECTS

HAVE already sketched a general outline of that pleasant home to which the colonel was now about to bring his beloved.

Before I resume my narrative, I shall indulge myself in a still more minute account of the premises, the mode of living, etc., which will afford a more distinct idea of the country; all the wealthy and informed people of the settlement living on a smaller scale, pretty much in the same manner. Be it known, however, that the house I had so much delight in recollecting, had no pretension to grandeur, and very little to elegance. It was a large brick house of two or rather three stories (for there were excellent attics), besides a sunk story, finished with the exactest neatness. The lower floor had two spacious rooms, with large light closets; on the first there were three rooms, and in the upper one four. Through the middle of the house was a very wide passage, with opposite front and back doors, which in summer admitted a stream of air peculiarly grateful to the languid senses. It was furnished with chairs and pictures like a summer parlor.

Here the family usually sat in hot weather, when there were no ceremonious strangers.

Valuable furniture (though perhaps not very well chosen or assorted) was the favorite luxury of these people; and in all the houses I remember, except those of the brothers, who were every way more liberal, the mirrors, the paintings, the china, but above all, the state bed, were considered as the family seraphim, secretly worshiped, and only exhibited on very rare occasions. But in Col. Schuyler's family the rooms were merely shut up to keep the flies, which in that country are an absolute nuisance, from spoiling the furniture. Another motive was, that they might be pleasantly cool when opened for company. This house had also two appendages common to all those belonging to persons in easy circumstances there. One was a large portico at the door, with a few steps leading up to it, and floored like a room; it was open at the sides, and had seats all round. Above was either a slight wooden roof, painted like an awning, or a covering of lattice-work, over which a transplanted vine spread its luxuriant leaves and numerous clusters. These, though small, and rather too acid till sweetened by the frost, had a beautiful appearance. What gave an air of liberty and safety to these rustic porticoes, which always produced in my mind a sensation of pleasure that I know not

1 They still preserve at the house of Mr. Stephen Schuyler, some of the furniture of Madame Schuyler.

how to define, was the number of little birds domesticated there. For their accommodation there was a small shelf built round, where they nestled, sacred from the touch of slaves and children, who were taught to regard them as the good genii of the place, not to be disturbed with impunity.

I do not recollect sparrows there,' except the wood-sparrow. These little birds were of various kinds peculiar to the country; but the one most frequent and familiar was a pretty little creature, of a bright cinnamon color, called a wren, though little resembling the one to which we give that name, for it is more sprightly, and flies higher. Of these and other small birds, hundreds gave and received protection around this hospitable dwelling. The protection they received consisted merely in the privilege of being let alone. That which they bestowed was of more importance than any inhabitant of Britain can imagine. In these new countries,

1 English sparrows, as they are commonly called, were introduced into Albany about the year 1865, where they were tenderly cherished and fed, as the enemy of worms that infested shade trees in unusual number and variety. Their popularity was seriously diminished, however, when it was discovered that they had driven away the wrens, blue-birds, robins, and other familiar birds, whose cheerful notes had been substituted by the single harsh and monotonous chirp of their successors. Out of the city precincts a different reception awaited them. There the husbandman, jealous of his grain fields, saluted the sparrow with the shot-gun. Their presence soon began to be regarded in the city as an unequal exchange for the popular songsters that had been driven away, and their habits to be attended with unpleasant annoyance.

where man has scarce asserted his dominion, life swarms abundant on every side; the insect population is numerous beyond belief, and the birds that feed on them are in proportion to their abundance. In process of time, when their sheltering woods are cleared, all these recede before their master, but not before his empire is fully established. These minute aërial foes are more harassing than the terrible inhabitants of the forest, and more difficult to expel. It is only by protecting, and in some sort domesticating, these little winged allies, who attack them in their own element, that the conqueror of the lion and tamer of the elephant can hope to sleep in peace, or eat his meals unpolluted. While breakfasting or drinking tea in the airy portico, which was often the scene of these meals, birds were constantly gliding over the table with a butterfly, grasshopper, or cicada in their bills, to feed their young, who were chirping above. These familiar inmates brushed by without ceremony, while the chimney swallow, the martin, and other hirundines in countless numbers darted past in pursuit of this aërial population, while the fields resounded with the ceaseless chirping of many gay insects unknown to our more temperate summers. These were now and then mingled with the animated and not unpleasing cry of the tree-frog, a creature of that species, but of a light slender form, almost transparent, and of a lively green; it is dry to the touch, and has not the dank moisture of its aquatic

relations; in short it is a pretty lively creature, with a singular and cheerful note. This loud and not unpleasing insect chorus, with the swarms of gay butterflies in constant motion, enliven scenes to which the prevalence of woods, rising "shade above shade" on every side, would otherwise give a still and solemn aspect. Several objects, which with us are no small additions to the softened changes and endless charms of rural scenery, it must be confessed are wanting there. No lark welcomes the sun that rises to gild the dark forests and gleaming lakes of America; no mellow thrush or deep-toned blackbird warbles through these awful solitudes, or softens the balmy hour of twilight with

"The liquid language of the groves."

Twilight itself, the mild and shadowy hour, so soothing to every feeling, every pensive mind; that soft transition from day to night, so dear to peace, so due to meditation, is here scarce known, at least only known to have its shortness regretted. No daisy hastens to meet the spring, or embellishes the meads in summer; here no purple heath exhales its wholesome odor, or decks the arid waste with the chastened glow of its waving bells. No bonny broom, such as enlivens the narrow vales of Scotland with gaudy bloom, nor flowering furze with its golden blossoms, defying the cold blasts of early spring, animate their sandy wilds. There the white-blossomed sloe does not forerun the