CHAPTER VI.
ROOFS; SHINGLES; TILE; THATCH: THE ADVANTAGES AND DISADVANTAGES OF EACH.—THE USE OF THATCH IN AMERICA.—HEREFORD.—CHRISTIAN HOSPITALITY.—A MILK FARM.—THE HEREFORDS.—A DANGEROUS MAN.
Somewhere in this region, we passed two small churches or chapels with roofs of wooden shingles; in both cases the pitch of the roof was very steep, and the shingles old, warped, and mossy. These were the only shingle roofs I recollect to have seen in England; but I was told they were not very uncommon upon old farm-buildings in Devonshire. The roofs hereabouts, generally, are of flat tile. In moulding these tile, which are of equal thickness at both ends, a hole is made in the upper part, by which they are pegged to slats, which run horizontally across the rafters; (about London a protuberance is moulded upon the tile, by which it is hung.) This peg is covered, as the nails of a shingle are, by the lower part of the tile of the next tier above it. If no precaution to prevent it is taken, there will sometimes be crevices in a tile roof, through which snow will drive; in dwellings, a thin layer of straw is often laid under the tile, and sometimes they are laid in mortar. Pan-tiles (common on old houses in New York) are also made tight with mortar. Roofs of this kind will last here about twice as long as shingle roofs with us, without repairs, and are fireproof. Unless laid over straw, they give less protection than shingles against heat and cold.
The roofing material changes completely often in one day’s walk; flat tiles giving place to slates, slates to pan-tiles, &c. In Monmouthshire, the roofs are generally made of a flat, shaly stone, called tile-stone, quarried not less than an inch thick. It is laid with mortar, or straw or moss, like tile, and requires strong timber to support it. The better class of houses and modern farm-buildings, almost every where, are slated; sometimes metal-roofed; very rarely covered with compositions or felt. Cottages and old farm-houses and stables, every where, except in the vicinity of slate quarries, are thatched. Straw thatch is commonly laid about eight inches thick. Its permanence depends on the pitch of the roof. Ordinarily it may last twenty-five years; and when a new roof is required, the old thatch is not removed, but a new layer of the same thickness is laid over the old one. Frequently three and sometimes more layers of thatch may be seen on an old building, the roof thus being often two feet thick. It is a cheaper roof than any other, and is much the best protection against both cold and heat. The objection to it is that it harbours vermin, and is more liable to take fire from sparks than any other. The danger of the latter is not as great, however, as would be supposed. I saw and heard of no houses on fire while I was in England, except in London. I frequently saw cottages in which coppice-wood was being burned, the top of the chimney not a foot above the dry straw thatch, and the smoke drifting right down upon it. The danger from fire would be somewhat greater in America, where wood is more commonly used as fuel and rain is much less frequent. There are some situations in which it might be safely employed, however, (if on dwellings, the chimney should be elevated more than usual,) and where it would form the cheapest and most comfortable, and much the most picturesque and appropriate, roof.
The cost of the thatched roof of a double cottage, fifty by fifteen feet, is estimated at one hundred and forty dollars, of which about forty dollars is for straw, forty dollars for thatcher’s work, and the remainder for the frame, lath, &c.
The walls of labourers’ cottages are of stone, or brick and timber, or of clay.
In making the latter, which are very common, the clay, having been well forked over and cleaned of stones, is sprinkled with water, and has short straw mixed with it, and is then trodden with horses and worked over until it becomes a plastic mass. The more it is trodden the better. A foundation of stone is first made; one man forms the prepared clay into balls, or lumps as large as bricks, and passes these to another, who lays and packs them well and firmly together, dressing off smooth and straight with a trowel. After the height desired for the wall is attained, it is commonly plastered over inside and out with a thin coat of more carefully prepared clay, and whitewashed. This makes an excellent non-conducting wall, equal, in every respect, except in permanence, and almost in that, to stone or brick. Very respectable houses, as villas and parsonages, are sometimes built in this way. It costs about 30 cts. a square yard.
I once or twice saw the walls of cottages made of or covered with thatch, and have no doubt, as long as vermin were kept out of them, that they were, as was asserted, exceedingly comfortable. These were gentlemen’s country boxes, not labourers’ cottages!
On reaching Hereford, a city of 10,000 inhabitants, we were met by a gentleman to whom word had been sent by some of the “Brethren” at Ludlow, who begged us all to come to his house, and, upon reaching it, we found rooms prepared for us, and his family expecting us. This hospitality was entirely unexpected: the gentleman was a stranger to us; we had not even ever heard his name before; nevertheless, he contrived to make us feel perfectly at home, and free to dispose of our time to suit ourselves.
After tea he walked with us about the town, and took us a little into the country, to see a small milk-dairy and orchard-farm. The cows were of the Hereford breed, but not full-blooded, nor have we seen many that were. Most of the cattle in this vicinity have more or less of the marks of the breed, and their quality is about in proportion to their purity. The poorest cattle I have seen in England were within two miles of Hereford, but there was no mark of Hereford blood in them, and they had probably been bought out of the county, and brought there to fatten. The best milkers on this farm were not the best-bred cows. The average value of the herd was not far from $35 a-head. They were kept in a long stable; mangers and floor of wood, a slope of half an inch in a foot to the latter, with a gutter in the rear. They were entirely house-fed, on green clover. They were milked by women, and the milk all sold in the town.
Late in the evening, our host called with us on the Rev. Mr. ——, a right warm, manly, Christian gentleman, who, though in domestic affliction, on learning that we were Americans, received us most cordially. We found him singularly familiar with American matters, both political and theological; a portrait of Dr. Bushnell, of Hartford, along with that of Dr. Arnold, and other worthies, was over his mantel, the last “New-Englander” on his table, and a fragrance peculiarly adapted to make an American feel at home, soon pervaded the atmosphere of his study. We had a most agreeable and valuable conversation, and it was long before we could return to the hospitable quarters which had been provided for us for the night. Mr. —— is an Independent, or, as he prefers to be called, a Congregationalist; accounted somewhat heterodox, and treated with a cold shoulder by some of the scribes and doctors, we were afterwards informed; but of this we discovered nothing, and imagine him to be merely a peculiarly candid, humane, and genial man, only less than usually disguised or constrained in expression, by habits, precedents, and dogmatic forms.