These were the average accumulation of family possessions from the turn of the 19th century down through the Civil War period.  There was a pine tavern table, 17th century in feeling but made nearly two hundred years later.  It had been used in the summer kitchen and bore the scars of harsh treatment.  A skillful cabinet-maker restored it to a condition suitable for a dining table.  At this point, the antiquarian of the family spoke wistfully of “some nice little rod-back Windsors that Cousin Julie made off with” when the old homestead was broken up some twenty years and how they would be “just right for dining room chairs here.”

But all were agreed that the attic contents were to furnish forth the Cape Cod cottage with no unnecessary additions.  Here were eight cane-seated chairs of the late Empire years.  Four had been painted a dirty brown to simulate black walnut; four represented the white enamel blight which, in turn, had chipped enough to display the “grained” painting of the golden oak years beneath.  A scraper applied to a leg revealed the mellow tone of honey-colored maple.  Patience and paint remover did the rest.  Brought up in the natural finish, they blended beautifully with the old pine table and have been much admired.  Yet they were only near-antiques, made by early factory methods about 1850.

So it went.  Old pine bureaus, an under-eaves bed, one or two four-posters, late but with simple urn-shaped finials and still covered with the old New England red filler, two or three cherry light stands, and several slat-back chairs went far towards furnishing the bedrooms.  The living room, in spite of two or three good tables and ladder-back and Windsor armchairs, appeared to be threatened with a warring element in the shape of a red plush Victorian sofa and matching armchair.  Both were ugly but comfortable.  Chintz slip covers changed them from blatant monstrosities to background blending items of hominess.

Skillful grouping, plenty of color, and simplicity produced a highly pleasing whole that caused more than one guest to exclaim, “These things look as though they grew in the house.”  Yet there was not a piece of museum quality in the lot.  Many of them could not even be classed as antiques.  They were simply the kind of things that the original owner of the house and his descendants would have been apt to accumulate and use through the years.  But it is those plus the associations, real or imaginary, that make the difference between a home and a house.  The original owner could, of course, have owned finer pieces such as a butterfly table, a maple or cherry highboy, a high-post bed with hangings of crewel-work, a small curly maple and mahogany sideboard, various chests of drawers and light stands made of cherry and neatly ornamented with inlay.  Country cabinet-makers were as fine artists as those who catered to the urban taste but their public was satisfied with simple pieces and they wrought accordingly.