So he made up his mind, he would build him a
brick house. He said brick buildings were safer, in regard to fire, and
were more durable, that they did not require so much repairing, were
warmer in winter and cooler in summer than wooden buildings.
So he went at it, and built him a good, substantial plain, brick
farm-house in 1854. Not so palatial as some might admire, but a good
substantial house; a brick basement under the whole of it, with two
stories above. He set it right facing the "Hard scrabble road" and right
in front of his door yard was the junction of three roads. He lived on
the corners and, by looking south, he could see to the place where he
first settled in Michigan, from his own door. He built across the front
side of his house a double stoop or piazza, running the whole length of
the front. There he could sit, in the cool of the day, and rest himself,
accompanied by some of his family. Two of my sisters yet lived at home;
the rest of the family had gone for themselves. While sitting there he
could see people passing and repassing, coming and going in every
direction. What a contrast it was to our early life in Michigan.
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