At Dorminghurst everything which was possible to be constructed from material found on the estate was made and fashioned right there. The timbers for the mansion and outbuildings were hewn in the forest, and the lumber for finishing the interior was sawed by hand on the spot. Any pieces of oak or walnut that were choice were saved and seasoned for the cabinet-work and for the furniture. Half a dozen skilled artisans were hired by the year and the workmanship put upon the doors, the wainscotting and the staircase was marvellous. The front part of the great hallway had a lofty ceiling, and was lighted by windows in the second story. The great double staircase flared out at the foot and ascended by graceful curves, thus forming an elliptical center space between the two banisters. The effect upon entering the well-lighted and lofty hallway was to command respect for the mansion. After passing between two massive and richly-carved newel posts, the elliptical opening between the two staircases had hall seats in comfortable nooks and the rear hall had a huge fireplace and mantel at the very end. Two massive oak settles, high in back, faced each other on each side of the chimney-place, and one could stretch out and lie down on either one of them and be comfortable. A lengthy oaken table with bandy legs stood in the center of the hall. Two long forms or benches without backs were on each side, and two massive, high-backed chairs were at each end of the table. A damask cover was on the table, and the floor was bare and scrupulously white. In entertaining company the great hall was in popular favor. At this table James Greydon used to entertain his intimates, and he loved to sit and discourse upon topics of the day. He was a Latin scholar and scientific writer of no mean ability. In the ripeness of his attainments he produced a translation of Cicero’s “De Senectute,” which was the first production in America of classical scholarship. At Dorminghurst he collected, for a Colonist, a wonderful library of classical authors. The well-lighted front room on the first floor was lined with shelves, on which rested shining lights of literature, to guide the effort and ambition of struggling genius in the wilderness of Pennsylvania. An untimely accident had crippled James Greydon, so that for thirty years of his latter life his time was spent almost entirely among his books and in his farming pursuits. He wrote valuable treatises on agriculture, for the then primitive Colonists, and collected precious editions of Cicero, Virgil, Seneca, Pliny and Horace, to say nothing of the lesser lights of Latin literature.