by their owners, they
reflected the axemen's skill. There were two styles of log
architecture; the shanty with corners criss-cross, called hog-pen
finish, and the other, the house with the corners neatly finished,
called dovetail finish. In Sanger it was a social black eye to live in
a house of the first kind. The residents were considered "scrubs" or
"riff-raff" by those whose superior axemanship had provided the
more neatly finished dwelling. A later division crept in among the
"dovetailers" themselves when a brickyard was opened. The more
prosperous settlers put up neat little brick houses. To the surprise
of all, one Phil O'Leary, a poor but prolific Dogan, leaped at once
from a hog-pen log to a fine brick, and caused no end of perplexity
to the ruling society queens, simply paralyzing the social register,
since his nine fat daughters now had claims with the best. Many,
however, whose brick houses were but five years old, denounced the
O'Learys as upstarts and for long witheld all social recognition.
William Raften, as the most prosperous man in the community, was
first to appear in red bricks. His implacable enemy, Char-less (two
syllables) Boyle, egged on by his wife, now also took the red brick
plunge, though he dispensed with masons and laid the bricks himself,
with the help of his seventeen sons. These two men, though Orangemen
both, were deadly enemies, as the wives were social rivals. Raften was
the stronger and richer man, but Boyle, whose father had paid his own
steerage rate, knew all about Raften's father, and always wound up
any discussion by hurling in Raften's teeth: "Don't talk to me, ye
upstart. Everybody knows ye are nothing but a Emmy Grant." This was
the one fly in the Raften ointment. No use denying it. His father
had accepted a free passage, true, and Boyle had received a free
homestead, but what of that--that counted for nothing. Old Boyle had
been a "PASSENGER," old Raften an "EMMY GRANT."

This was the new community that Yan had entered, and the words Dogan
and Prattison, "green" and "orange and blue," began to loom large,
along with the ideas and animosities they stood for.

The accent of the Sangerite was mixed. First, there was a rich Irish
brogue with many Irish words; this belonged chiefly to the old folks.
The Irish of such men as Raften was quite evident in their speech, but
not strong enough to warrant the accepted Irish spelling of books,
except when the speaker was greatly excite