spectability which is characteristic of those quiet New England villages in which no manufacturing establishments exist. Many of the chimneys are huge structures of stone; and the house timbers are of solid oak, bearing on their sides the marks of the axe or adze by which they were hewn into shape long before steam planes were known. Indeed, many of the floor joists are merely flattened on one side, and are otherwise as rough as when first felled in the forest, some not even having had the bark removed. The house with which the writer is most familiar was for many years the principal hostelry of the place. Built just before the outbreak of the War of Independence, it has sheltered beneath its capacious roof almost every distinguished legislator, lawyer and public character who has figured in Rhode Island's subsequent history. Its central stone chimney is nearly fourteen feet square at its base, and has built into it on one side in the cellar a flight of stone steps which formerly led to the floor above. In the cellar there is also a huge fireplace with a massive lintel of oak. This fireplace had no crane, but pots were hung by chains or withes from an oaken beam built into the throat of the flue. In the back of the fireplace is an oven large enough to hold a suckling pig, and doubtless many a one has been roasted therein to a condition of delicious crispness. It is said that the slaves and other servants did their cooking in this cellar, but thereof deponent maketh not affirmation. Above the cellar the chimney contains three fireplaces on each floor, and one of these is even larger than that below. The present kitchen of the house is in an

ell, where the chimney is of stone with a brick top. It was furnished with an immense fireplace, flanked on one hand by a big set kettle, under which a fire could be built, and called a flue; and on the other by a large brick oven. When the oven was to be used a fire was built in it and allowed to burn to a bed of coals. These were then hastily shovelled out with the "peel," the oven swept clean, and in it were placed the brown bread, the pork and beans, pastry, or whatever was to be cooked. The iron door was then closed tight and the articles left to ripen to a flavor and richness unattainable by any other mode of cooking. When "done to a turn" the long handled peel was deftly slipped under them and they were shovelled out to grace a table always groaning under an overweight of tempting viands. On gala days extra help was summoned in the persons of wrinkled old colored women, with turbans on their heads, and an inborn genius for cooking. Under their su pervision, fireplace, flue and oven would all be in use at once. Meat and vegetables would be boiling on the flue, other vegetables would be cooking in pots which hung from the crane in the fireplace, and bread or pies would fill the oven. In front of the fireplace would be standing half cylinders of tin, called "Dutch ovens," in which, suspended on spits, meat and fowl would be roasting.

Thirty-five or forty years ago the principal light used in this kitchen of an evening was a home-made "tallow dip." Candle making was a fascinating process to watch. About once a year the kitchen would be cleared for action. Ranged along one side of the room would be two long poles paral

lel to each other, and supported on the backs of chairs. Across these poles rested short sticks, like those on which smoked herring may still be found strung up in country stores, and doubled over these sticks were twisted lengths of candle wicking. Taking a stickful of wicks in her hand the mistress of ceremonies would cross the room to the fireplace, where hung immense kettles full of melted tallow. The wicks were dipped into one of the kettles and raised again coated with the grease, which slowly hardened about the cotton cores as they were put back on the long poles to cool. Each set of wicks was dipped in turn, and, as the tallow hardened, the process was repeated until they were of the desired size. When all was over the result was a collection of dozens of candles lacking the finish of those cast in moulds, but giving a clear and serviceable light. One trouble with them was, however, a tendency to soften and get out of shape in very hot weather, and to remedy this some housewives added bayberry wax. Weeden,* in his work already referred to, speaks rather slightingly of the importance of bayberries from a commercial point of view, but it is only a few years ago that a southern Rhode Island storekeeper advertised in the newspaper for a thousand bushels of them.

In the second story of this old hotel there was formerly a large hall with a vaulted ceiling. Here the tables were set for meals during sessions of legislature and court, town-meeting days, or other great occasions, and turkey suppers, dances and other entertainSometimes ments were given there.

on its chimney the date 1759; and scattered here and there about the town are others as old or older. One fine example of the old gambrel roof style was for years known as "the old red house," from its color. But a famous singer rented it one year, and it has ever since been known as the "Lucca house." The old "Barker Tavern" is another good specimen of gambrel roof. One of the quaintest dwellings in the village is the "French house," a low, rambling structure, built at various times; low ceiled, with summers across the ceilings, odd corner cupboards, and a general air of mysterious age. For over a hundred years the house has stood as it is to-day, except that an addition was formerly attached to one corner, wherein one of its owners carried on the manufacture

of hats,-genuine old-fashioned "beavers." One striking feature of the house is its two-storied porch, the up

*Social and Economic History New England, Vol. II, Page 504.

THE "LUCCA HOUSE"

per story being larger than the lower, and made still more picturesque by the massive grapevine which clambers over it and spreads along the house front just below the eaves. This house contains timbers taken from an old wooden jail which once stood near at hand, being the first prison built here when the seat of government was moved hither from Tower Hill.

Across the road, and occupying one of the finest locations in the village, with a widespread view of wooded hills and plains dotted with gleaming ponds, is the present jail, substantially built of stone in 1856. To make it more secure cannon balls were imbedded in its walls, that by revolving at the touch of drills in the hands of prisoners attempting to escape would render their attempts futile. Whether they have ever had a chance to prove their utility I never heard. This jail occupies the site of a wooden predecessor, from whose dungeons Thomas Mount was taken to be hung on a gallows erected halfway down the western slope of Kingston Hill. This was the last execution that took place in southern Rhode Island.

Much of the village life centred about the blacksmith shop, which now stands deserted on the eastern edge of

the village. For many years it was presided over by a colored man, who had a true genius for mechanics, and was besides a keen observer of nature. Long ere the prominence now given to mosquitos and other insects in disease propagation was dreamed of, and when even the life history of that pest was little understood, he had put into practice one of our most modern expedients to reduce their number. At the corner of the shop stood a huge cask to catch the rain as it ran from the eaves troughs. This water he kept constantly covered with a film of kerosene oil, with the avowed purpose of preventing the mosquitoes from breeding therein. His shop was a rare museum of metal odds and ends, and was long a rich mine for searchers after antique andirons, fire shovels, tongs, and all the impedimenta of an oldfashioned fireplace. It was well worth while to be in the smith's good graces, and to be permitted to delve for treasure among the heterogeneous collections of junk heaped up in the mysterious obscurity of semi-darkness that always prevailed behind the forges and under the big bellows; or to overhaul the endless variety of objects hanging on the walls and from the roof. To his business of smith he added for many years the duties of village sexton. Since his day no one has so skilfully rung the sweet-toned bell that hangs in the village spire to warn the people to dress for meeting, to gather at the service, or to "toll the preacher into church." His shop was the constant resort of all whose tools were broken, or whose horse lacked a shoe; and under his skilful treatment many a farming machine led a useful existence long after most mechanics