What a train of conflicting ideas do those two words oftentimes awaken¹, bringing up visions of log cabins, ladder stairs, wooden latches², fried hominy and maple³ sugar, to say nothing of the hobgoblins in the shape of bears, rattlesnakes, wolves, and “folks who don’t know anything;” the latter being universally considered the “staple production” of every place bearing the name of “out West.” Even western New York, with her hundreds of large and flourishing villages, her well cultivated farms, her numerous schools, her educated, intelligent people, and her vast wealth, is looked upon with distrust by some of her eastern neighbors, because, forsooth, her boundaries lie farther towards the setting sun, and because she once bore the title of “way out west in the Genesees.”

 

Of course I speak only from observation and personal experience; for at Meadow Brook⁴, ten years ago, many fears were expressed lest Anna should miss the society to which she had been accustomed; and when after the sale of the homestead, she wrote, asking me to come and live with her, I hesitated, for to me it seemed much like burying myself from the world, particularly as she chanced to mention that the schoolhouse was a log one, and that there were in the neighborhood several buildings of the same 180material. Never having seen anything of the kind, I could not then understand that there is often in a log house far more comfort and genuine happiness than in the stateliest mansion⁵ which graces Fifth Avenue or Beacon⁶ street; and that the owners of said dwellings⁷ are frequently worth their thousands, and only wait for a convenient opportunity to build a more commodious⁸ and imposing

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