The autumn of 1804 found us still in the original log-house.

It had been added to and improved, but the stick chimney had not been replaced by brick, as my father looked forward from year to year to building a better house in a better situation; but he found so many improvements actually necessary, and so much to be done each spring and summer, that although a great deal of material had been prepared, the house was not yet commenced.

One fine, bright morning, as some visitors were taking their departure, there was an alarm of fire, and, sure enough, the stick chimney had caught and communicated to the garret, and in a few minutes the whole of the upper part of the house was in flames.

Our visitors, who had not got beyond the threshold, joined with the family and labourers in getting out the furniture as fast as possible. Nearly everything was saved from the lower part of the house, but what was in the garret was lost.

The garret had been used as a store-room, and contained cases which had not been unpacked since they came from New York, but were left until a better house could be built.

These things — linen, bedding, and some nice little articles of furniture, and various little knicknacks which were prized beyond their value — were a great loss; but the greatest loss was a box or two of books. These were not to be replaced this side of New York, and to a young family the loss was irreparable.

A part of Pope’s works, a copy of Milton’s Paradise Lost, Buchan’s Family Medicine, and a Testament with commentaries were all that were saved.  A small quantity of plate also, which had not been unpacked, was found in a very unsatisfactory state.

The family took shelter in a house built for and occupied by the miller and his family, sending them to a smaller tenement.  The situation was airy and beautiful, and with a few alterations and improvements, was more comfortable than the first log-house.  This my mother rather regretted, as discomfort would have hastened the new house.

Although allusions were made to New York, no time had yet been named for their return.  My father used to assure my mother and friends that he would go as soon as she said the word; yet these remarks were always accompanied by a particularly humorous expression of countenance.

Continued... >

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