A Backblocker's Pleasure Trip

The region of log timber was always a fascinating study to me; but the homes of the settlers, standing in the small clearings, were rarely remarkable for beauty. They were generally commodious and fairly comfortable; but they were not elegant. With the space the settler has-- miles of it all around him--and the abundant material at hand, this fact was surprising to the traveller, especially in situations where the natural features appealed strongly to the artistic taste. Instead of improving these features, or designing in harmony with them, the settler almost invariably went to work in a way that destroyed their beauty. To the artist in search of striking material the house was picturesque; but to the average man from town it was positively ugly, uninviting, cheerless.

Only here and there, as the train rolled on over hundreds of miles, did one notice a place, in some smiling green valley, or perched on a low hill, that pleased the eye, and struck one as a snug-looking home. Most of the houses were rough, ramshackle places; with glistening iron roofs that suggested an oven in summer time. Particularly was this so in the northern and western parts of the country. A globe-trotter, sweltering in our inland heat, and gazing on the burning iron roofs "out at the back o' Bourne," might well question the sanity of the people who lived there. There was nothing about them that was artistic; there was nothing that deceived the eye--they were just as drab, rugged and bare in front as at the back. Farm houses were notorious for their bleak and ugly exteriors. There was an occasional home that was pretty and graceful, but the ideal home was a rare place.