Master Bradford built what is a perfect luxury of a chimney, which
shows what a man can do who has genius, and my mother says he showed
great skill in thus building. If you please, his chimney is of stone,
even though we have no means of cutting rock, such as is known at
Scrooby. He sought here and there for flat stones, laying them one
upon another with a plentiful mixture of clay, until he built a chimney
which cannot be injured by fire, and yet is even larger than ours.
Its heart is so big that I am told Master Bradford himself can climb
up through it without difficulty, and at the bottom, or, rather, where
the fireplace ends and the chimney begins, is a shelf on either side,
across which is laid a bar of green wood lest it burn too quickly; on
this the pot-hooks and pot-claws may be hung by chains.
[Illustration]
It would seem as if all this had made Master Bradford over vain, for
because the wooden bar, which he calls a backbar, has been burned
through twice, thereby spoiling the dinner, he has sent to England for
an iron one, and when it comes his family may be proud indeed, for only
think how easily one can cook when there are so many conveniences!
We are forced to put our pots and pans directly on the coals, and
it burns one's hands terribly at times, if the fire is too bright.
Besides, the cinders fall on the bread of meal, which causes much delay
in the eating, because so much time is necessary in scraping them off,
and even at the best, I often get more of ashes than is pleasant to the
taste.
[Illustration: Skillets from the "Mayflower"]
Bread of any kind is such a rarity with us that we can ill afford to
have it spoiled by ashes. During the first two years we had only the
meal from Indian corn with which to make it; but when we were able to
raise rye, it was mixed with the other, and we had a most wholesome
bread, even though it was exceeding dark in color.