Genealogy of the Olmsted family in America : embracing the ...

436 Olmsted Family Genealogy
said to live in it, and they keep Mr. Chapman and his gun busy, when he is
not potting pheasants in the wood near by.)
The moat used to extend in front of the house, and there was a drawbridge
(don't burst with superiority !), but it exists no longer. There are very
picturesque farm buildings in front, and at the side of the house, pig styes, cow
sheds, granary, stables, etc. Barley threshing for malt was proceeding, superintended
by the master. The place is worked for crops and fat stock. It is
too far from the station to be a dairy farm.
We introduced ourselves at the farm, to the housekeeper, who, when I
asked her name, meekly answered, "Sarah Ann." Afterwards, I knew her
to be Mrs. Cornell, wife of Mr. Chapman's horse-keeper. Afterwards Mr.
Chapman came up, a burly, breezy, young farmer, who told me that
5 weeks ago a rich couple had driven over in a brake and pair from Saffron
Walden to see the place. They were Americans and said their ancestors had
lived in the house 300 years ago. They didn't give their names, but I presume
they were Ambroses. The Ambroses were tenants of the Master and
Fellows of Queen's College, Cambridge, but never owned the place like the
Olmsteds and Skrenes. Mr. C. Chapman has rented the place 2 years,
but remembers it for the last 23 years. He showed me the moat fields, best
view (the country is beautiful but a little flat just around,—it would be all
right if the house were on a little eminence), the garden, now a neglected
wilderness with barren old fruit and nut trees, and a beautiful vine on the back
of the house, which is even prettier and certainly more fantastic than the front.
On the ground floor there are three or four rooms with oaken floors and beams
(these latter whitewashed over, alas !). The scullery and hall are paved with
flags. The kitchen parlour is fascinating, with arched recesses in the walls,
but the scullery is more so, as it has the most stupendous fireplace, with a vast
chimney from which depends a rod from which kettles and cauldrons used
to hang. There is a copper bread oven, and a huge beer copper.
Then there is the dairy with a space set aside and trellised off for cream,
but Mr. Chapman uses it as a cellar. By mistake we caught " Sarah Ann's"
husband swigging away at a quart pot of ale in there, and were so sorry
about it. Upstairs there are lovely old rooms with sloping ceilings, oak floors,
and lovely views. I insisted on descending by an unused and broken back
staircase, much to Sarah Ann's perturbation, but withal amusement. She
stood about, apparently doing nothing, and reiterated ad nauseum the remark,
" Yes, 'tis a rare old-fashinged place."
A very chilly evening was setting in, so we decided to go home to Haverhill.
While the wagonette was being fetched we revelled in farm sights, and
helped to feed the pigs with mangel-wurzels. Mr. Chapman was busy paying
his men, but found time to come up and bid us the heartiest farewell, hoping
we would come again.
We drove home in the fast falling dusk through Castle Camps (6J^
miles). We wanted to learn the way for our next day's walk out to lunch with
the genial parson and his wife and family. The driver was the first surly
and monosyllabic person we had met. We had to drag information out of
him, or rather most information. He was very ready with the facts that the
roads were bad and the distance far. We watched for landmarks, and learned
of a short cut through the fields, which would alter our 5-mile walk to 4 the
next day.