14248	----	Team. [Illustration: On A Side Hill] HOMES, _AND HOW TO MAKE THEM._ E.C. GARDNER. Illustrated. BOSTON: JAMES R. OSGOOD AND COMPANY, LATE TICKNOR & FIELDS, AND FIELDS, OSGOOD, & CO. 1875. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1874, BY JAMES R. OSGOOD & CO., in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. UNIVERSITY PRESS: WELCH, BIGELOW, & Co., CAMBRIDGE. PREFACE. These letters between the architect and his friends are composed of hints and suggestions relating to the building of homes. Their aim is to give practical information to those about to build, and to strengthen the growing demand for better and truer work. Even those who are not yet ready to build for themselves are seldom without an instinctive longing to do so at some future time, and a lively concern in the present achievements of their friends and neighbors, in this direction. Such will, I trust, find something interesting and instructive in these pages, and be moved thereby to a more cordial hatred of whatever is false and useless, and love for the simple and true. E.C.G. SPRINGFIELD, March, 1874. CONTENTS. LETTER I. EVERY MAN SHOULD HAVE A HOME II. A GRATEFUL CLIENT III. THE BEAUTY OF TRUTH AND UTILITY IV. PROFESSIONAL FOLLY V. BUILDING-SITES AND FOUNDATION-WALLS VI. GRAVEL-BANKS AND QUAGMIRES VII. NATURE'S BRICKS ARE BETTER THAN OURS VIII. THERE IS A SOFT SIDE EVEN TO A STONE WALL IX. A BROAD HOUSE IS BETTER THAN A HIGH ONE X. TROUT BROOKS ARE BETTER THAN STREET SEWERS XI. THE STRENGTH AND DURABILITY OF BRICK XII. THE WEAKNESS AND SHAM OF BRICKWORK XIII. SKILL DIGNIFIES THE MOST HUMBLE MATERIAL XIV. EVERY MAN TO HIS TRADE XV. THE COMING HOUSE WILL BE FAIR TO SEE AND MADE OF BRICK XVI. DOMESTIC DISCIPLINE XVII. GOOD TASTE IS NOT A FOE BUT A FRIEND TO ECONOMY XVIII. OUR PICTURESQUE ANCESTORS XIX. THE USE AND THE ABUSE OF WOOD XX. A SURRENDER AND CHANGE OF BASE XXI. HOSPITALITY AND SUNLIGHT XXII. UNPROFESSIONAL SAGACITY XXIII. STAIRWAYS AND OUTLOOKS XXIV. IN A MULTITUDE OF COUNSELLORS IS SAFETY XXV. DOORS AND SLIDING-DOORS, WINDOWS AND BAY-WINDOWS XXVI. EXPERIENCE KEEPS A DEAR SCHOOL XXVII. FASHION AND ORNAMENT, HARD WOOD AND PAINT XXVIII. THOUGHT PROVOKES INQUIRY XXIX. CONSISTENCY, COMFORT, AND CARPETS XXX. AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND ARCHITECTURE, POTATOES AND POSTSCRIPTS XXXI. DOMESTIC-SERVICE REFORM XXXII. GO TO; LET US BUILD A TOWER XXXIII. BASEMENTS AND BALCONIES XXXIV. FOUR ROOMS ENOUGH XXXV. CONVENIENCES AND CONJECTURES XXXVI. THE LESSON OF THE ICE-HOUSE XXXVII. SHINGLES, SUNSHINE, AND FRESH AIR XXXVIII. WHERE THE DOCTORS DIFFER XXXIX. HOW TO DO IT XL. THE BREATH OF LIFE XLI. ETERNAL VIGILANCE LII. SAVED BY CONSCIENCE XLIII. FINAL AND PERSONAL BY WAY OF APPENDIX LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. MR. ARCHITECT MR. AND MRS. JOHN ROUGH STRENGTH AND SMOOTH-FACED WEAKNESS ON A SIDEHILL ONLY ONE CORNER STONE BODY WITH BRICK MEMBERS BREADTH AND HEIGHT SECOND STORY OF WOOD COTTAGE CORNICES SQUARE HEADS WITH BRICK CAPS FRAGMENTS OF BRICKWORK BRICKS THAT ARE NOT SQUARE "PICTURESQUE AMERICA" A WISE GENERAL "THE GROVES WERE GOD'S FIRST TEMPLES" OUTER FINISH OF WOOD "THE OLD HOUSE AT HOME" FORTY-TWO FEET SQUARE "LOOK OUT, NOT IN" DUST TO DUST WOOL AND WOOD WOODWORK ON PLASTERED WALLS "SISTER JANE, SPINSTER" SISTER JANE'S KITCHEN WHAT THE BASEMENT ADDS OUTLOOK FROM THE ROOF THE OLD, OLD STORY SHINGLING GOOD OLD TIMES BRICK FIREPLACE HOMES, AND HOW TO MAKE THEM, OR _HINTS ON LOCATING AND BUILDING A HOUSE_. IN LETTERS BETWEEN AN ARCHITECT AND A FAMILY MAN SEEKING A HOME. [Illustration: Only One Corner] LETTER I. From the Architect. EVERY MAN SHOULD HAVE A HOME. My Dear John: [Illustration: Mr. Architect] Now that your "ship" is at last approaching the harbor, I am confident your first demonstration in honor of its arrival will be building yourself a house; exchanging your charmingly good-for-nothing air-castle for an actual flesh-and-blood, matter-of-fact dwelling-house, two-storied and French-roofed it may be, with all the modern improvements. In many respects, you will find the real house far less satisfactory and more perplexing than the creation of your fancy. Air-castles have some splendid qualities. There are no masons' and carpenters' contracts to be made, no plumbers' bills to be vexed over, the furnaces never smoke, and the water-pipes never freeze; they need no insurance, and you have no vain regrets over mistakes in your plans, for you may have alterations and additions whenever you please without making a small pandemonium and eating dust and ashes while they are in process. Nevertheless, I have no doubt you will plunge at once into the mysteries and miseries of building, and, knowing your inexperience, I cannot at such a juncture leave you wholly to your own devices. It is a solemn thing to build even the outside of a house. You not only influence your fellow-men, but reveal your own character; for houses have a facial expression as marked as that of human beings, often strangely like their owners, and, in most cases, far more lasting. Some destroy your faith in human nature, and give you an ague chill when you pass them; others look impudently defiant, while many make you cry out, "Vanity of vanities!" If you are disposed to investigate the matter, you will find that the history of nations may be clearly traced in the visible moral expression of the homes of the people;--in the portable home-tents of the Arabs; the homely solidity of the houses in Germany and Holland; the cheerful, wide-spreading hospitality of Switzerland; the superficial elegance and extravagance of France; the thoroughness and self-assertion of the English; and in the heterogeneous conglomerations of America, made up of importations from every land and nation under the sun,--a constant striving and changing,--a mass of problems yet unsolved. A friend once said to me while we were passing an incurably ugly house, "The man who built that must have had a very good excuse for it!" It was a profound remark, but if that particular building were the only one needing apology for its ugliness, or if there were no common faults of construction and interior arrangement, I should not think you in special need of warning or counsel from me. There are, however, so many ill-looking and badly contrived houses, so few really tasteful ones, while year after year it costs more and more to provide the comfortable and convenient home which every man wants and needs for himself and family, that I am sure you will be grateful for any help I may be able to give you. We are told that all men, women, and children ought to be healthy, handsome, and happy. I have strong convictions that every man should also have a home, healthful, happy, and beautiful; that it is a right, a duty, and therefore a possibility. Small and humble it may be, cheap as to cost, but secure, refined, full of conveniences, and the dearest spot on earth, a home of his own. In the hope of making the way to this joyful consummation easier and plainer for you, I propose to give you a variety of hints, information, and illustrations relating to your undertaking, and will try to make my practical suggestions so well worth your attention that you shall not overlook what I may say upon general principles. There is a right and a wrong way of doing almost everything. I am yours, for the right way. LETTER II. From John. A GRATEFUL CLIENT. MY DEAR ARCHITECT: How did you know my ship was coming in? Queer, isn't it, that when a man does get a few stamps, his friends all find it out, and can tell him just what he ought to do with them. But you're right. I've lived in an air-castle long enough. It's altogether too airy for cold weather, and a house of my own I'm bound to have. Your information and advice will be exactly in order; for it is a fact, that, until a man has built at least one house for himself, he is as ignorant as the babe unborn, not only of how to do it, but, what is ten times worse, ignorant of what he wants to do. So go ahead by all means; make a missionary of yourself for my benefit. Don't get on your high heels too soon, and undertake to tell me what won't be of the slightest use unless I have a fortune to expend. [Illustration: MR. AND MRS. JOHN.] Give me something commonplace and practical, something that I can apply to a "villa" of two rooms if my ship happens to be empty. I suppose it's all true that an ugly-looking house is a sign of want of wit rather than want of money, but there are lots of people who haven't either, precious few that have both. At all events, the man who has only one thousand dollars to spend is just as anxious to spend it to the best advantage as he who has five thousand or fifty. Mrs. John is delighted. She is bent on the new house, but knows I shall get everything wrong end first from cellar to attic. I always supposed a good kitchen was a desirable part of a family establishment, but the chief end of her plans is bay-windows and folding doors. However, if you tell us to put the front door at the back side of the house, or do any other absurd thing, it will be all right. As to your preachment on general principles, I'll do the best I can with it; but don't give me too much at once. Yours, JOHN. LETTER III. From the Architect. THE BEAUTY OF TRUTH AND UTILITY. Dear John: I am glad my efforts in your behalf are likely to be appreciated, especially if you share this common opinion of architects, that their mission is accomplished when they have made a pretty picture, and that they are an expensive luxury, which the man who would build himself a house must forego if he would be able to finish. Greater durability, comfort, and convenience are not expected on account of their assistance, only that the house shall be more surprisingly beautiful. Doubtless there is some ground for this poor opinion, but the architects are not alone in their folly, or wholly responsible; they attempt to supply an unreasonable demand, and are driven to employ unworthy means. The first grand lesson for you to learn (you must have patience with a little more "preachment") is that the beauty of your building cannot be thrust upon it, but must be born with it, must be an inseparable part of it, the result and evidence of its real worth. We must forget our great anxiety as to how our houses shall be clothed, aiming first to make them strong and durable, comfortable and convenient, being morally certain that they will not then be disagreeable to look upon. Professing a great contempt for a man who tries to seem something better and wiser than he is, let us be equally severe in condemning every building that puts on airs and boldly bids us admire what is only fit to be despised. The pendulum seems to have swung away from the plain, utilitarian mode of building that was forced upon our ancestors by a stern necessity,--possibly chosen from a sense of duty,--to the other extreme; giving us, instead of the old-time simplicity, many a fantastic design that claims admiration for its originality or its modern style. The notion that there can be a mere architectural fashion, having any rights that intelligent people are bound to respect, is quite absurd. Improved modes of construction and new helps to comfort and convenience are constantly invented, but one might as well talk of the latest fashions for the lilies of the fields or the stars in the heavens, as of a fashionable style in architecture or any other enduring work of art. Whatever building is nobly and enduringly useful, thoroughly adapted to its uses, cannot be uncomely. Its outward beauty may be increased by well-contrived disposition of materials, or even added details not strictly essential to its structure; but, if rightly built, it will not be ugly without these additions, and beware of using them carelessly. What might have been a very gem of homely and picturesque grace, if left in modest plainness, may be so overburdened with worthless trash that its original expression is lost and its simple beauty becomes obtrusive deformity. Even conspicuous cheapness is not necessarily unpleasant to see, but don't try to conceal it by forcing the materials to seem something better than they are. Let wood stand for wood, brick for brick, and never ask us to imagine a brown-stone value to painted sheet-iron. There is, too, a deeper honesty than mere truth-telling in material; a conscientiousness of purpose, an artistic spiritual sense of the eternal fitness, without which there can be no worthy achievement, no lasting beauty. Accepting this doctrine, which cannot be too often or too strongly urged, although it is not new,--indeed, it is old as the universe,--you will, I think, be puzzled to find an excuse for yourself if you disfigure a charming landscape or a village street by an uncouth building. Build plainly if you will, cheaply if you must, but, by all that is fair to look upon or pleasant to the thought, be honest. It will require some study and much courage, but verily you will have your reward, and I for one shall be proud to write myself your admiring friend. LETTER IV. From John. PROFESSIONAL FOLLY. My Dear Architect: I've been trying to learn my "first grand lesson," as laid down in your second epistle to yours truly. About all I can make of it is: Firstly, that my house is for myself to live in,--wife and babies included,--not for my neighbors to look at; and, secondly, that however much I may try to humbug my fellow-sinners in other ways, I'm not to build a lie into my house, where it is sure to be found out, after I'm dead and gone, if not before. You wonder what my opinion is of architects. Well, without being personal, I'm free to maintain that as a rule I'm afraid of 'em. The truth is, they don't care what a fellow's house costs him, whatever they may say in the beginning; and I never knew a man to build from an architect's plans that his bills didn't come in just about double what he laid out for. They want to get up a grand display, if it's a possible thing, so everybody that comes along will stop and say, "What a charming house! Who made the plans?" while from beginning to end it may be all for show and nothing for use, and mortgaged to the very chimney-tops. That's my opinion, and I'm not alone in it, either. There was my neighbor down the road,--he wanted a commonish kind of a house. Nothing would do but his wife must have it planned by a "professional" man. Result was, she had to put her best bedstead square in the middle of the room, and there was no possible place for the sitting-room lounge but to stand it on end behind a door in the corner. Another acquaintance of mine had $5,000. Didn't want to spend a cent more than that. Called on an architect,--may have been you, for all I know; architect made sketches, added here a little and there a good deal, made one or two rooms a few feet bigger, poked the roof up several feet higher, and piled the agony on to the outside, until, when the thing was done, it cost him $11,000! Of course it ran him into debt, and most likely will be sold at auction. He'll never get what it cost him, unless he can sell it as we boys used to swap wallets,--without looking at the inside. But everybody says it's "lovely," and wants to know who was his architect. That, I expect, is just where the shoe pinches. If an architect can only make a fine show with another man's money, he gets a reputation in no time; but if he has a little conscience, and tries to plan a house that can be built for a given sum, every one says it looks cheap, no kind of taste, and very likely the owner himself is grouty about it, and next time goes for another man. I don't envy you a bit. But don't be discouraged. Yours, JOHN. LETTER V. From the Architect. BUILDING-SITES AND FOUNDATION-WALLS. DEAR JOHN: You seem to have made as much of my last letter as could reasonably be expected. I might reply to your unfortunate experience with architects, by describing the cost and annoyance of the subsequent alterations, almost inevitable whenever a house is built without carefully studied plans; and I do assure you that when the cost of a house exceeds the owner's estimates, it is simply because he does not know his own mind beforehand, or stupidly fails to have his plans and contracts completed before he begins to build. It's no more the fault of the architect than of the man in the moon. By and by you shall have a chapter on the whole duty of architects, as I understand it, but not until I have given you something more practical to think of and possibly to work upon. Nothing astonishes me more than the absurdly chosen sites of many rural and suburban dwellings, unless it is the dwellings themselves. Notwithstanding our great resources in this respect, all considerations, not only of good taste and landscape effect, but even of comfort and convenience, are often wholly ignored. For the most trivial reasons, houses are erected in such locations and of such shapes as to be forever in discord with their surroundings,--a perpetual annoyance to beholders and discomfort to their occupants. I will not at present pursue the subject, but shall assume that the ground whereon your house will stand is at least firm and dry; if it isn't, no matter how soon it falls, it won't be fit to live in. Any preparation for the foundation in the way of puddling or under-draining will then be quite superfluous. Unless you are obliged to economize to the uttermost, let your cellar extend under the whole house, and make it of good depth, not less than 7-1/2 feet,--8-1/2 is better. When this is ready, I suppose you will start for the nearest ledge, and bring the largest rocks that can be loosened by powder or dragged by oxen, and set them in solemn array around the cellar, their most smiling faces turned inward. If you can find huge flat stones of one or two yards area, and six to twelve inches thick, you will feel especially fortunate. In either case you will survey these with admiration, and rejoice in thinking that, though the rains may fall, and the floods and the winds beat upon it, your house will rest on its massive support in absolute security, never showing the ugly cracks and other signs of weakness that spring from imperfect foundations. Perhaps not, but it will be far more likely to do so than if the first course of stones in the bed of gravel or hard pan are no larger than you can easily lift. You cannot give these huge bowlders such firm resting-place as they have found for themselves in the ages since they were dropped by the dissolving glaciers. However you handle them, there will be cavities underneath, where the stone does not bear upon the solid ground. The smaller ones you may rub or pound down till every inch of the motherly bosom shall feel their pressure. Upon this first course of--pebbles, if you please, lay larger ones that shall overlap and bind them together, using mortar if you wish entire solidity. As the wall rises, introduce enough of large size to bind the whole thoroughly. Above the footing the imperfect bearings of the larger stones are of less consequence, since there is little danger of their crushing one another. [Illustration: ROUGH STRENGTH AND SMOOTH-FACED WEAKNESS.] I say you will probably set their smooth faces inward, where they can be seen, which is quite natural and well enough, provided this is not their only merit. If behind there is a lame and impotent conclusion, a tapering point on which it is impossible to build without depending upon the bank of earth, it will be better to have less beauty and more strength. I don't like a foundation wall that is "backed up"; it should be solid quite through; if any difference, let it be in favor of the back or outside. You will find plenty of walls bulging into the cellar, not one crowding outward. If the footing of a foundation is made as it should be, the upper part may be much thinner, since there is no danger of crushing it by any probable weight of building. It may be crowded inward by the pressure of surrounding earth, especially if the building is of wood. To guard against this, interior buttresses of brick, or partition walls in the cellar, will perhaps cost less than a thicker main wall. The buttresses you may utilize by making them receive shelves, support the sides of the coal-bin, etc., while the partitions will take the place of piers, and, if well laid, need be in smaller houses but four inches thick. Should your cellar happen to be in a gravelly knoll,--you are thrice and four times blessed if it is,--and if there is a stony pasture near it or a quarry from which you can get the chips, you may try a concrete wall of small stones, gravel, and cement. It will be strong and durable; with a wheelbarrow you can make it yourself if you choose, and the rats will despise it. Whether your house is one story or ten, built of pine or granite, you can have no better foundation than good hard brick laid in cement mortar; cellular above the footing, as brick walls should usually be made. Between this and stone it will be then a question of economy to be determined by local circumstances. The details and accessories of cellars, their floors, ventilation, and various conveniences, belong to the interior equipments. There is, however, one point that even precedes the foundation,--the altitude. As the question commonly runs, "How high shall the top of the underpinning be?" Of course this can only be given on an actual site. It is unfortunate to plant a house so low in the ground that its cellar forms a sort of cesspool for the surrounding basin; most absurd to set it up on a stilted underpinning until it looks like a Western gatepost, lifted every year a few inches out of the ground by the frost, till it finally topples over and has to be set anew. Two things you will notice in locating your house,--as soon as the walls and roof are raised, the distance to the street in front will seem to be diminished, and the ground on which the building stands will appear lower than before, lower than you expected or desired. There is so much said and sung about houses being set too low, that it is quite common to find them pushed out of the ground, cellar and all, as though this would atone for a want of elevation in the land itself. There is little danger that you will place your house too high, great danger that you will not raise the earth around it high enough. Be sure that after grading there shall be an ample slope away from the walls; but whether you will have a "high stoop," or pass from the dooryard walk to the porch and thence to the front hall by a single step, will depend upon the character of the house and its surroundings. To express a generous hospitality the main entrance should be so convenient and inviting that it seems easier to enter than to pass the door. This effect, especially in large rambling houses, is most easily obtained by keeping the first floor near the ground. That hospitality and good cheer will always be found beneath your roof is my earnest wish. LETTER VI. From John. GRAVEL-BANKS AND QUAGMIRES. MY DEAR ARCHITECT: I'm all right on the gravel question. You don't catch me building in anybody's quagmire. There's plenty of rheumatism and fever 'n' ague lying around loose without digging for 'em, and then building a house over the hole to keep 'em in. I don't want to say anything against any man's building-lots, but how in the light of common-sense a man can, with his eyes open, build his shanty on some of the streets in your enterprising city, is too much for my understanding. If they would first put in good big sewers, running slick and clean to the river, and underdrain the whole premises, 't wouldn't be quite so bad. But I don't want them, anyway; give me the high land and the dry land. I'm not particular about founding on a rock, either; that was well enough in old times when they didn't want cellars, but let me have a good bed of sand or gravel. Cellar may not be quite so cool, but all we need is to go down a little deeper, while, as for health, I'd rather be ten feet under ground in such a spot than occupy the "second-story front," in some places I could mention. Your foundation is all right in theory, and if I was going to put up a steam chimney, a government building, or anything else that must be done in the best way, regardless of expense, I should go for it. For cheap, common work, 't isn't worth while to be over-nice or over-wise. I tell you, there is danger of knowing too much about some things. According to your notion, a man couldn't do better than to stick the ground full of tenpenny nails to start with, and I should think a thousand-legged worm would be about the most substantial animal that treads the globe. As to planting my house, when I've bought the lot, I'll ask you to take a look at it. I have a fancy for some sort of a sidehill, so I can get into my house, from one side at least, without going up stairs out of doors, and still have the first floor airy and dry. Yours, JOHN. LETTER VII. From the Architect. NATURE'S BRICKS ARE BETTER THAN OURS. DEAR JOHN: Where to build your house may be, in truth, a question quite as important as how to build it. I regret my inability to give you the advice you need. Dr. Bowditch has, I think, intimated that there is an elysian field not far from here of such rare sanitary virtue that if its locality were known there would scarcely be standing-room within its borders for those who would flock thither, or something to that effect. I trust we shall some time have a scientific practical investigation of the whole matter, and such definite information as will enable us at least to qualify, by artificial means, evils that cannot, in thickly settled regions, be wholly avoided. Meantime stick to your text, keep high and dry. If you are bound to have a sidehill, and can find none to suit, you can doubtless make one of the earth thrown from the cellar wherever you locate. Have you decided what materials to use, whether wood, brick, or stone? You will hardly use any other. Glass houses are not popular, although for their sunlight they ought to be; paper ones are not yet introduced among us,--I'm expecting them every year; and iron, important and useful as it is, and destined to become more so, is not adapted to such buildings as yours. Wood, brick, or stone, then,--which of the three? To spare you all possible confusion, we will take them separately and in order, beginning with the hardest. For rural dwellings in New England stone is rarely used, except for foundations below ground, being, according to the common notion, better for that purpose than brick, but not as worthy to be seen, unless hammered and chiselled into straight lines and smooth surfaces. Errors both. Well-burned brick laid in cement mortar are nearly always as good as a stone foundation, while nothing can be more effective in appearance than a well-laid wall of native, undressed stone. We have too long neglected one of the most available of our resources in not making use of the small loose stones that abound in many localities. They are cheaper and better than bricks, and, rightly used, so thoroughly in harmony with the nature around them that we should find them in common use if men were half as wise in accepting the means of grace provided for them as they are prone to seek out many inventions. The earlier farmers with enormous industry built them into fences, and then added a second story of wood to keep the sheep from walking over them, or piled them up in conical heaps, watch-towers for the woodchucks. The later farmers, with less patience but possibly more enterprise, are running away from them to the smoother fields and richer mould of the Western prairies. We can do better than either; for, wherever found, they may be used most favorably, not only for foundation walls that are deeply hidden from mortal view, but for the main walls of the entire building,--favorably, not only in point of economy and strength, but with most admirable result as to external appearance. And here you touch your fundamental principle, that the best outward effect can only be obtained by a judicious use of the materials with which you build. You must not make the walls without any reference to their composition or proportions, and then try to conceal the poverty and awkwardness of the structure by pinning up preposterous window-caps, hanging horrible brackets under the eaves that must always be in doubt whether they support the cornice or are supported by it, fixing fantastic verge-boards to the gables, and covering the roof with wooden knick-knacks that mock consistency and defy description. Look rather to the materials at your command, and, whatever they may be, try to dispose them in such way that, while each part performs a legitimate, necessary service, you shall still have variety and harmony. Because I have suggested building your main walls of natural undressed stone, you must not attempt to construct them of that alone. The main corners, the door and window jambs, the caps and sills, cannot well be made of these rough hard heads and cobbles that are scattered over the fields, or from quarry chips. And here will arise the question of cost. It would seem decidedly grand to use for the corners substantial blocks of hewn stone,--sandstone, granite, marble, or porphyry,--channelled and chamfered, rock-faced, tooled, rubbed, or decorated; key-stones and voussoirs embellished with your monogram or enriched by any other charming device you choose to invent; bands of encaustic tile, brilliant in color and pattern, belts of sculptured stone, and historic tablets,--if you fancy and can afford them. Unless your ship is heavily freighted with Australian gold or African diamonds, by all means dispense with the cut stone, and use brick for the corners, caps, and jambs, and some good flag-stones broken into strips of suitable width and thickness for the sills and belt-courses. This will give you a contrast in color (unless you have the reddest of red sandstone for the walls), the utmost economy and durability of construction, and a whole effect very likely better than that of the stone. These brick dressings may be light, especially the jambs; but the corners, at least, should be laid in such fashion as to bind well into the stone walls, and if of considerable height, should be strengthened by belts of stone, or iron anchors running through the brick and extending into the main wall several feet each way. Any large blank surface may be relieved by a little ingenuity in the selection of the stones for the main walls, introducing, perhaps, some of regular shapes and size, the raised mortar, which may be colored dark or red, marking the joints, or inserting a belt of different color. Horizontal bands of brick laid in fancy pattern may be convenient and effective. Of course you will not adopt this style of wall unless there is a crop of suitable stones within easy distance. It is more probable that you will be afraid to use what you have than that there are none to use. Whatever can be made into a stone fence will make the walls of a house, if you are not too ambitious of height, and do not attempt to make them too thin. Other things being equal, the thicker the walls, within certain limits, the better. You don't care to build a Bastile, but deep window-jambs without and within add wonderful richness and dignity. If the walls cost little or no more, as is often the case, it is a pity to refuse the additional ground required for their extra thickness. Such walls should not be monopolized by hundred-thousand-dollar churches and fancy summer residences. They are quite suitable for the simplest, most unpretending country homes. [Illustration: STONE BODY WITH BRICK MEMBERS.] You will understand the general idea thus far by the accompanying sketches, with which I must close this letter, without concluding the subject. LETTER VIII. From John. THERE IS A SOFT SIDE EVEN TO A STONE WALL. MY DEAR ARCHITECT: I'm slowly digesting your last production; not being an ostrich, it goes rather hard. For all that, it may be worth thinking of. Perhaps I shall be converted by the time the subject is fully shown up. I suppose we've always looked upon these loose rocks and stones sprinkled about the country as a part of the original curse, and have never thought of turning them to any sensible use, though good old Dr. Hopkins seemed to have faith that their soft side would some time be discovered. Funny, isn't it, that we should burn so much fuel and spend so much labor making bricks and other artificial building-blocks, when there are piles of them ready made, that would only cost the hauling? Not always on the square, to be sure, although in some places the ground is full and running over with flat stones that can be laid up as easily as shingles. They would hardly need any mortar, and the brick trimmings you describe would be a nuisance, except for looks. Miles and miles of stone-walls you will see, up and down hillsides and across pastures that don't look worth their taxes. Once in a while the lower half of a cider-mill, the back side of a barn-yard shed, or something of that sort, is made of them; but the people in these parts seem to think it would be folly to use them for anything more dignified. I suppose, because they are too simple and natural,--just as the Almighty made them. These square-cornered, flat-sided fellows are not the commonest kind, however; and I'm free to maintain that I don't want to build my house more than seventy-five feet high of the smooth cobbles that will scarcely hang together in a respectable stone-heap. I should expect the whole thing would come tumbling down some rainy night. Mrs. John don't take to the notion of a stone house--not yet. Says they're wofully old-fashioned and poky,--look like Canadians and poor folks. I just keep still and let her talk,--it's the best way. Won't such walls be cold and damp? How am I to know whether the stones that I can find are fit to use? Send you a boxful by express? Yours, JOHN. LETTER IX. From the Architect. A BROAD HOUSE IS BETTER THAN A HIGH ONE. MY DEAR JOHN: It will not be necessary for you to send me a stone-heap or a section of pasture-wall for inspection. I would rather venture an opinion from your description. Of course, these walls alone, if solid, as they doubtless must be, will be cold and damp; they must be furred off within to prevent moisture from condensing on the walls of the rooms. This furring should be done with light studs, secured to the floor timbers above and below, having no connection with the stone walls, the inside of which may be left quite rough, whatever the "builders in the elder days of art" might say to such negligence. For greater permanence and security against fire, instead of wood furrings you may build a lining of brick, leaving an air space of several inches between it and the stone, very much in the same way as if the whole were of brick. You say you would prefer not to build walls as high as a church tower of smooth cobblestones. Don't; it wouldn't be wise. Still I have seen them, of more humble dimensions, laid in good cement, as such walls always should be laid, that seem as firm as unbroken granite. But you will remember I only advise this mode of building on the condition that you are not ambitious of height. If you are, by all means curb your aspirations, or else buy a city house six or seven stories in the air, where you can gratify your passion for going up and down stairs. There is the best reason in the world why a tall house in the country should look grim, gaunt, and awkward; it is thoroughly inconvenient and out of place. The area of arable land covered by human habitations does not yet interfere with agricultural products. So let us spread ourselves freely. When we have learned the beauty and the strength of co-operation for mutual helpfulness, we shall see the prevailing mode of constructing houses in cities very much modified. Now they stand as books are placed on their shelves,--vertically and edgewise. They would hold just as many people, and be far more convenient, if they could be laid horizontally, one above the other. [Illustration: BREADTH AND HEIGHT.] True, this would involve floors impervious to sound, and fire-proof,--by no means a fatal objection. Since we can neither "fly nor go" in the air, like birds and angels, it is well for us, having found our appropriate level, to abide thereon as far as may be. There is no doubt that where dwellings must be built compactly in "blocks," as we call them, the "flat" arrangement, each tenement being complete on one floor, is the cheapest and best. Even the fourth story in such a building is preferable to a house of eight or ten rooms, two on each floor. But this does not concern you, unless you have a few thousands to invest in tenement-houses. In the right place I like an old-fashioned one-story house, but most people have a prejudice against anything so unpretending. One other fact besides the worth of co-operation I hope the dwellers in cities will learn to recognize practically. When there were no swift and screaming locomotives, no cosey and comfortable horse-cars, no red and yellow omnibuses even, there was good reason why men must forego the boon of country air; must forget the color of the ground, the smell of the green things growing, and the shape of the heavens above them. But the reason no longer exists. Doubtless the business of a city should be as compact as possible; but for its dwellings, every consideration of comfort and happiness, of physical and moral well-being, demands that the inhabitants shall make the most of their migratory resources and--scatter; find room to build, not tenements or residences, but _homes_ for themselves and their children. In the old time safety was found by crowding together within mural walls. Now the case is reversed. Where the population is densest, temptations and dangers do most abound. We've outgrown the walls, let us overcome the evils that were bred within them. There may be a prejudice against another quality of these stone walls. They are rough. Roughness means want of culture and labor; that implies want of money, and that is--unpardonable. But roughness does not mean any such thing. What are mouldings and frets and carvings but a roughening of otherwise smooth surfaces? Artists of all kinds seek to remove even the appearance of an unbroken plane, and nature abhors a flat exterior, never allows one, even in the most plastic material, if it can be broken. See the waves of the ocean, the mimic billows on a snow-covered plain, the rugged grandeur of the everlasting hills. Fancy a pine, an oak, or an elm tree with trunk and limbs smoothly polished! What if the outside of your walls are somewhat uneven? Let them be so. The shadows will be all the richer, the vines will cling more closely, and maybe the birds will hang their nests in some sunny corner. Do not, then, try to improve the natural faces of the stones with pick and hammer; you will find it hard work, and, very likely, worse than thrown away. I think you will like, both in exterior effect and in practical result, the plan of building the walls of the first story of stone with brick dressings, as described in my last letter, making the remainder of the house of wood, be the same more or less. If the sketches I send you do not make you in love with this style, or if you do not like to risk the experiment, examine something already built before deciding against it. But first explore the country around you and see if the stony prospect is good. [Illustration: SECOND STORY OF WOOD.] Mr. Donald G. Mitchell not only writes in favor of this mode of building, but proves his faith by his work; his new house at Edgewood being an admirable specimen of it. You will find, too, some noteworthy examples at Newport, for which, with much else in the way of applying a refined taste to rural affairs, we are indebted, directly or indirectly, to the same well-known writer. If, after the pictures, Mrs. John is still doubtful of the result, the examples above mentioned will certainly allay her misgivings. You must not think I would recommend this as a universal fashion, even where the materials are abundant, but give it place according to its merit. I hope you will be spared the folly of building your house of dressed stone of uniform size and color, lest it be mistaken for a large tomb or a small jail. That you may not at present be compelled to take up your abode in either, is my sincere wish. LETTER X. From John. TROUT BROOKS ARE BETTER THAN STREET SEWERS. My dear architect: We read, we saw, and--were conquered. The pictures, the arguments, and especially the illustrious examples, brought down the house, or rather brought it up. Mrs. John is not only fully reconciled to stone walls, but she is decidedly unreconciled to any other,--that is, for the first story; the second story is to be of wood, the walls shingled or slated instead of being covered with clapboards, in the orthodox fashion. She is delighted with the notion that her "Baltimore belles" and the like can clamber against the house without being torn away every two or three years for paint. On the strength of this notion, she has already ordered a big lot of all sorts of herbs and creeping things, from grape-vines and English ivy to sweet-peas and passion-flowers. That's only one thing. Every time we go out to ride she gathers up from the wayside such a load of small rocks as makes the buggy-springs ache. We found a smooth round stone, yesterday, that looks so much like my head she declares it must be a fossil, and is bound to have it set over the front door instead of a monogram. We follow your lead in another direction; if we can't rise in the world without going up stairs for it, we'll try to cultivate the meek and lowly style. Your best point, according to my thinking, is on the migration question. I read that paragraph over twice, and stuck a pin at the end of it. It doesn't concern me, to be sure; but I have the utmost pity for a man who is content to live all his life shut in between brick walls. To undertake to bring up a family of boys and girls where all the blessed freedom of out-door life is denied them, is worse than pitiful,--it's heathenish. Not that every boy ought to live on a farm and work in a barn-yard,--hoe corn all summer and chop wood all winter,--but I don't believe a child can grow up strong, healthy, and natural, body-wise and soul-wise, unless he has a chance to scrape an acquaintance with Mother Nature with his own hands. When I stake out John City it will be a city of magnificent distances, in the form of a Greek cross,--two wide streets crossing each other at right angles in the middle; all the business at the "four corners," where there will be plenty of short cross streets; the dwellings stretching away for miles on the two broad avenues; house-lots one to ten acres; Union Pacific Railroad will cut through the centre corner-wise; and the Metropolitan Transportation Company, or something else with a big name, will run elegant cars like shuttles through the two main streets, and Mrs. A at the West End can call on Mrs. B at the North, South, or East End, ten miles away, with less trouble than you in your city can go from Salem to Howard Street. Similarly, Springfield ought to stretch from Longmeadow to Chicopee Street, from Indian Orchard to Agawam. At all events, if your folks will make the most of their opportunities, it will some day be one of the most charming inland cities on the continent. Whether there is good sense, public spirit, and patriotism enough to make it so remains to be seen. Yours, JOHN. LETTER XI. From the Architect. THE STRENGTH AND DURABILITY OF BRICK. My dear John: It is encouraging to know that my suggestions find some favor in your sight. Pray don't go too fast. It isn't well to make up our minds fully until we have heard all sides, lest we have them to unmake, which is always more or less painful. Notwithstanding the peculiar merits of the stone walls, the coming house,--the house that is to embody all the comforts and amenities of civilized life,--the house of safe and economic construction, well warmed, well ventilated, defiant alike of flood, frosty and fire,--the millennial house, if you please, will doubtless be a brick one. Don't be alarmed. I know just what vision rises before your mind's eye as you read this. A huge square edifice; windows very high from the ground, not very large, square tops, frame and sash painted white; expressionless roof; flat, helpless chimneys perched upon the outer walls, the course of their flues showing in a crooked stain; at the back side a most humiliated-looking wooden attachment, somewhat unhinged as to its doors and out at the elbows as to its windows, evidently hiding behind the pile of brick and mortar that tries to look dignified and grand, but only succeeds in making a great red blot on the landscape; all the while you know the only homelike portion of the establishment is in the wooden rear part. The front rooms are dark and gloomy, the paper hangings are mouldy, the closets musty and damp; there is a combined smell of creosote and whitewash pervading the chambers, and the ceilings hang low. I don't wonder you object to a brick house in the country. Yet, if you propose to build a model, honest and permanent, a house that shall be worth what it costs and look as good as it is, I shall still recommend brick. The growing scarcity of wood, the usual costliness of stone, the abundance of clay, the rapidity with which brick can be made and used,--one season being sufficient to develop the most awkward hod-carrier into a four-dollars-a-day journeyman bricklayer,--the demand for more permanence in our domestic dwellings, and the known worth of brick in point of durability and safety,--all these reasons will, I think, cause a steady increase in their use. Hence it behooves us to study the matter carefully, and see whether any good thing can be done with them. Since the time, long ago, when the aspiring sons of Noah said to one another, "Go to; let us make brick and burn them thoroughly," to the latest kiln in Hampden brick-yard, there seems to have been little variety in the making or using of them, except that among different nations they have assumed different forms. They are found as huge blocks a foot and a half square, and in little flinty cakes no bigger than a snuff-box. The Romans made the best ones, some of their buildings having defied the elements for seventeen centuries, and their mantle, as to brickmaking, has fallen upon the Dutch. They were found among the ancient Peruvians, and the Chinese made beautiful the outside of the temple by giving a porcelain finish to the brick. Still I fancy they have always been more famous for their use than for their beauty; but their utility is beyond all question. If our modern experience doesn't prove it, read this inscription from an ancient brick pyramid of Howara:-- "Do not undervalue me by comparing me with pyramids of stone; for I am better than they as Jove exceeds the other deities. I am made of bricks from clay, brought up from the bottom of the lake adhering to poles." Notwithstanding these claims to veneration, there is but little poetry about them, and therefore, I suppose, but little progress. Compared with other materials, they have undergone slight changes with us, in color, shape, or modes of use. A block of wood or stone contains, in the eye of the artistic workman, every possible grace of form and moulding; but a brick is a square, red, uninteresting fact, and the laying of them the most prosaic of all work. By common consent we expect no improvement in their use, but rather sigh for the good old times when work was honestly done and the size of the brick prescribed by law. We associate them with factories, boarding-houses, steam-chimneys, pavements, sewers,--whatever is practical, commonplace, and undignified. Yet there are charming, even delicate, effects possible with these unpromising rectangular blocks. [Illustration: COTTAGE CORNICES.] In your efforts to unite beauty and brickwork it will be well to begin modestly, merely aiming to avoid positive ugliness. Do not feel bound to enclose your house by four straight unbroken walls,--brick are no more difficult to build in irregular shape than anything else,--and do not, on any account, make square-topped openings, as the builders of the old-fashioned brick houses were wont to do. Doubtless you have read Mr. Ruskin's vigorous protest against this particular architectural sin; if you have not, by all means do so, only he proves too much, and would fain make us believe that our doors and windows must not only be crowned by arches, but they must be Gothic arches,--doctrine to be received with some grains of allowance. A pointed Gothic arch may be, often is, very beautiful; but, applying our test of utility, it is most obviously out of place, and therefore inartistic, where close economy, convenience, and abundance of light are required. For the sake of strength, if for no other reason, let the top of the openings be arched, but a low arch of one arc or two is often preferable to a high one. If, for economy's sake, you wish to make the top of the sash square, do so, curving the upper portion of the frame as a sort of centre on which the masonry may rest; but do not attempt this if the openings are wide, and in any case relieve the wood segment by ornamental cutting or some other device, otherwise you will have a weak and poverty-stricken effect. Or you may use a straight lintel of stone, taking care to build a conspicuous, relieving arch above it of stone or colored brick. You will get the idea from the sketches, and see that there is room for endless variety of expression and ornament without violating any of the first principles, which you will do if you try to cover a square-headed opening with a "straight arch" of brick, or leave a light, horizontal stone cap without a protecting arch above it. [Illustration: SQUARE HEADS WITH BRICK CAPS.] LETTER XII. From John. THE WEAKNESS AND SHAM OF BRICKWORK. My Dear Architect: You must have had a brick in your hat when you launched your last letter. I suppose there's no doubt that brick walls will stand thunder and lightning in the shape of Chicago fire and Boston gunpowder better than anything else. In fact, I've always had a notion that if there are any houses in a certain place where they don't need them to keep out the cold, they must be made of brick, Milton's gorgeous testimony to the contrary notwithstanding. But when you undertake to show up the softness and beauty of brickwork, you soar a little too high for me. If our masons would only make walls that are able to bear their own weight; not use more than half as much mortar as brick, and that made of sand instead of dirt; if they would build chimney-flues that will carry the smoke to the top of the building, instead of leaving it to ooze out around the window-frames a dozen feet away, as I once saw it in a costly building belonging to one of our ex-governors, and remember that a wooden joist running square across a chimney-flue is pretty sure to get up a bigger draught than most of us care for; if they wouldn't fill up the inside of the wall with bricks that it isn't safe to drop for fear they can never be picked up again; in short, if they'd do the work that can't be seen half as well as what is in plain sight, I'd never say a word about beauty, I wouldn't even ask for those elegant caps the masons are so fond of poking out over windows. You can find at least ten thousand such in Springfield. Some folks paint them, sprinkle sand into the paint, and then go on their wicked way rejoicing in the notion that they have told such a cunning lie as "no feller can find out." Now and then the corner of a brick building is cobbled up into blocks and polished off in the same style. If these are some of the beauties of brickwork, I pray you have me excused. If you have anything better to offer, go ahead, I'm open to conviction; would rather be knocked down by an argument than a brickbat any time. Mrs. John says she doesn't care a straw about bricks, and hopes you won't spend much time talking about them. She's bound to have a stone house, whether or no, and wants you to give us your notions about inside fixings, especially the kitchen. (Between you and me, she wouldn't have said a word about the kitchen, if I hadn't accused her of caring for nothing but bay-windows and folding-doors.) Her sister Jane has been over to see her, and they've had a host of projects to talk over; part of 'em I get hold of and part of 'em I don't. Jane isn't married, but she's got some capital notions about housekeeping. Great on having things nice and handy inside, especially for doing the work, but she don't care much for the outside looks. So she hopes you will get out of the brick-yard as soon as possible. Of course, I shall read what you have to say whether they do or not, but don't run wild on the subject. Yours, JOHN. LETTER XIII. From the Architect. SKILL DIGNIFIES THE MOST HUMBLE MATERIAL. Dear John: Please tell Mrs. John and Sister Jane that I am as anxious to get into the kitchen as they are to have me; and if I can succeed in giving suggestions that shall make the domestic work, on which our comfort and happiness so largely depend, easier and pleasanter,--restoring the wellnigh lost art of housekeeping to its native dignity,--it will be a grander achievement than designing the most beautiful exterior that ever adorned a landscape. I'm perfectly aware that the outside appearance of the house is to the interior comfort thereof as the body to the soul,--no comparison possible between the two. Still, they must possess their souls in patience and allow me to work according to my own plan. Moreover, they must not neglect a careful study of the brick question. A decided opinion is a good thing, provided it is grounded on the truth; otherwise it is a stumbling-block. For yourself, I assure you my head is level; would that all brickwork were equally so. Beauty and bricks are not incompatible; but remember, there is one beauty of brick, another beauty of stone, and another beauty of wood. Do not confound them or expect that what pleases in one can be imitated in the other. As you were admonished, some time ago, "be honest; let brick stand for brick," then make the most of them. Your criticism on a very common form of "brick-dressing" is quite to the point. Aside from the stupid folly of painting them to imitate stone, not only these window-caps, but all horizontal belts having any considerable projection are essentially unfit for brickwork. The mortar is almost sure to fail at the upper side, giving the whole a look of premature decay, even if well done at first. A level course of long stone, running through a wall of small stones or brick, gives greater strength by binding the whole together. This has not always a good excuse for extending beyond the wall-face. But a projecting belt of brick adds nothing either in appearance or in reality. If horizontal lines are required to diminish the apparent height of the building or affect its proportions, make them of brick of different color from those of the main wall or laid in different position. Remember this; fanciful brick decorations are quite sure to look better on paper than when executed. As a rule, the more complex the design the greater the discount. Such work is apt to have an unsafe appearance, as though the whole was at the mercy of the bottom brick. [Illustration: FRAGMENTS OF BRICKWORK.] Your own sense of fitness must decide what shall be the general character of your house, whether light, open, airy, or sober, solid, and dignified. If the latter, let the strength of the walls be evident. Set the window-frames as far back from the wall-face as possible, in spite of any obstacles the builders may raise; make the arches above the openings massive, and the recessed portions of the cornice or any other ornamental work deep and narrow. There are not the same objections to a recess as to a projection; it is better protected, any imperfection is less apparent, and the desired effect of shadow is more complete. Much variety in color will not increase the appearance of strength, but the expression will be emphasized by pilasters and buttresses; also by the low segment arches and wide piers. On the other hand, for a lighter effect, make the windows wider and crown them with semi-circles or pointed Gothic arches. Leave out the corners of the piers in building them up; introduce belts of brick laid in various positions and of different colors, if you can get them, as I trust you may. Indeed, this very season, a brickmaker has reported himself prepared to furnish black bricks and buff, red bricks and gray, all of good and regular standing. You may be sure I gave him my blessing, and invited him to press on. I do not know whether he will prove to be the coming man in this department, but whoever brings a greater variety of brick in form and color within reasonably easy reach will do a good work that shall surely have its reward; for brick houses we must have, ugly ones we won't have, and rich decorations of stone we cannot afford for common use. Meantime, if you can do no better, do not hesitate to use brick that have been treated to a bath of hot tar. They may look old-fashioned, by and by. No matter; an old fashion, if it is a good one, is more to be admired for its age than despised. It is only by reason of its falseness and inconvenience that it becomes absurd. In the same category with colored bricks (indeed, they are a sort of spiritualized bricks) are the brilliant-hued encaustic tile that are finding their way hither across the Atlantic. Let us hope that the greatest country in the world will not long send three thousand miles for its building materials. A variety of forms and sizes of bricks we may easily have when we demand it in earnest. Beyond question there is room for almost unlimited exercise of fancy in this direction. We only need the taste to design appropriate shapes and to use them aright. Mr. Ruskin mentions certain brick mouldings as being among the richest in Italy. The matter of size relates rather to construction than ornament, but it is very important here. I think it will some time seem as unreasonable to make brick of but one size and pattern as it would now be to have all timber sawn of uniform dimensions. [Illustration: BRICKS THAT ARE NOT SQUARE.] You are more liable to attempt too much in the way of decoration than too little. Don't make your house look as though it was intended for a brickmaker's show-case. You will find the simplest designs the best. I have seen a really good effect on the side of a large building from the mere holes left in the wall by the masons' stagings. One thing more: Do not become possessed with the idea that a brick house must be a large or an expensive one. It may be small and cheap, but withal so cosey and domestic, so thoroughly tasteful and picturesque, that you will have an unquestioning faith in the possibility and the desirableness of love in a cottage, the moment you behold it. On the other hand, by making the best of your resources, it is possible to build a large, plain, square house, a perfect cube if you please, that shall not only be homelike in appearance, but truly impressive and elegant. How? I've been trying to illustrate and explain. By being honest; by despising and rejecting all fashions that have nothing but custom to recommend them; by using colored and moulded brick if you can use them well; by _not_ laying the outside work in white mortar, and by exercising your common-sense and independence, both of which qualities I am sure you possess. I must beg Mrs. John and Sister Jane (by the way, I'm flattered to know that a notable housekeeper finds anything promising in what I have thus far written you) not to give up the ship. One more broadside for the brick-yard, and we will pass on to loftier themes. LETTER XIV. From John. EVERY MAN TO HIS TRADE. My dear Architect: There is one point you might as well square up before you go any further. I understood that I was to build my house for myself to live in, not for my neighbors to look at. But I appeal to any white man, if you haven't had a deal more to say about the outside of the platter than the contents thereof. To be sure, it's what I might have expected. It's a way you architects have. You can no more help thinking how a house is going to look, than a woman can help hoping her first baby will be a beauty. I allow it would be a first-rate thing if we could have some streaks of originality, just a trifle more of variety, and a few glimpses of really good taste, along with the crumbs of comfort; and I'm willing to admit that your moves in that direction, as far as I can follow them, are all right. Still, it's a downright fact, that, unless a man is a great simpleton or a small Croesus, he is more anxious to make his house cosey and convenient, than he is to outshine his neighbors or beautify the landscape. Sister Jane wants to know whether, in case one wishes to begin housekeeping on a small scale, it would be as easy to make additions to a brick house for future need, as to a wooden one. She doesn't ask on her own account, but for a friend of hers who is talking of building. I expect you'll inquire pretty soon who's running these letters,--you or I; but if we don't sometimes show our ignorance by asking questions and making comments, how are you going to know what sort of information to shed? Yours, JOHN. LETTER XV. From the Architect. THE COMING HOUSE WILL BE FAIR TO SEE AND MADE OF BRICK. Dear John: Once for all, your questions and those of Sister Jane or any of her friends and relatives are always in order. The more the better. I will do my best to answer them, if not exactly by return mail, yet as soon as may be. Other things being equal, a house built of brick may be as easily increased to suit a growing family as one built of wood. There is necessarily a loss attending any change in a finished building, yet it is often well to arrange one's plans with reference to future additions. Will it be in order for me to express to Sister Jane my approval of any young man who is willing to begin life on a small scale, undertaking no more than he can do honestly and well, yet with ambitious forethought providing for future increase? You seem to be slightly in error upon this point. I have not said you must build your house without any regard to the exterior, or intimated that it would even be right to do so. I only protest against building for the sake of the exterior,--against sacrificing thoroughness and interior comfort to outside display,--against using labor and material in such fashion that they are worse than thrown away, their whole result being false and tasteless,--against every kind of ostentation and humbug. The truth is, we have all gone astray, literally, like sheep. We follow, for no earthly reason than because some one, not a whit wiser than we, happens to have rushed blindly in a certain direction. "Of domestic architecture what need is there to speak! How small, how cramped, how poor, how miserable in its petty meanness, is our best! How beneath the mark of attack and the level of contempt, that which is common with us!" Thus Mr. Ruskin on the domestic architecture of England. What would that merciless critic say, or rather what profundity of silence would he employ to express his opinion, of ours? It will be well for him and for us if he holds to his resolve never to visit America. This servile spirit of imitation, blind following of blind guides, is by no means confined to the outsides of our houses; it not only penetrates the interiors, but more or less influences all our affairs. Charge me with a professional interest if you will, I assure you no man can, in justice to himself or the community, build a house for his own use just like any other. He must attempt something better adapted to his needs and tastes than that can be which precisely suits some one else. If he can give no better reason for building as he builds, for furnishing as he furnishes, for living and thinking as he lives and thinks, than that another has done so before him, he may serve for the shadow of a man, but will never make the substance. Eastlake, another English authority, refers to continental cities and villages "the first glimpse of which is associated with a sense of eye-pleasure which is utterly absent in our provincial towns." And then, to drain the dregs of our humiliation, we are asked by his American editor to believe that, nevertheless, certain towns of the British Isles are miracles of picturesqueness "as compared with American towns, which have nothing but a succession of tame, monotonously ugly, and utterly uninteresting streets and squares to offer to the wearied eye." Yes, I am anxious about the outside of the house, but do not for a moment forget that it should always be subordinate to the weightier matters, the higher and holier uses of "home buildings." [Illustration: "PICTURESQUE AMERICA."] Have I squared up your point? Let us return to the trowel. The somewhat vexed question of mortar you shall answer according to your taste, so far as to choose between dark gray--"black" it is commonly called--and some shade of red, resembling the brick used. Between these two there seems to me to be one of those questions of taste, concerning which we are not permitted to dispute. With the dark mortar the joints will be visible, modifying the color of the wall, in some cases, perhaps, improving it; while the red will give a more uniform tint, on which not only colored brick or stone will appear to the best advantage, but the lines of the openings and other essential details are brought out in clearer relief. You would perhaps expect coloring the mortar the same shade as the brick to give precisely the effect of painting the entire wall. But it is not so. As in wood or stone, though in less degree, there is a kind of natural grain, even in the unnatural material, strengthened by oiling, but softer and richer than any painted surface. There seems to be no evidence that the mortar is injured by proper coloring-material,--mineral paints, or even lampblack, if you like it; I don't. Whether you like it or not, you are _not_ to use _white_ mortar for the outside work. Unless, indeed, you propose to build of pressed brick, in which case you will need it to show your neighbors how fearfully and wonderfully nice you are. If you are so devoted to worldly vanity as to build in that fashion in the country, I don't believe it will be possible for me to help you. Chimneys deserve a chapter to themselves, they are so essential and so often abused. Let them start from the cellar-bottom and run straight and smooth to the very outlet. If you wish to be exceptionally careful and correct, use round pipe, cement or earthen, enclosed by brick. When it is so well known how often destructive fires are caused by defective flues, it is surprising that more care is not taken in building chimneys. They should be intrusted to none but workmen who are conscientious as well as skilful, otherwise every brick must be watched and every trowel full of mortar; for one defect ruins the whole, and five minutes after the fault is committed it can never be detected till revealed by the catastrophe. If the spaces between the bricks were always filled with good mortar, it would be better not to plaster the inside of the flues, as the mortar is liable to cleave from the brick, and, hanging by one edge, form lodging-places for soot. As commonly built it is safer to plaster them within and without, especially without, for that can be inspected. The style of the visible part must depend upon the building. One thing lay up in the recesses of your lofty mind: A chimney is most useful and honorable, and you are on no account to be ashamed of it. Don't try to crowd it into some out-of-the-way corner, or lean it off to one side to clear a cupola,--better burn up the cupola,--or perch it daintily on a slender ridge like a brick marten-box; let it go up strong, straight, and solid, asserting its right to be, wherever it is needed, comely and dignified, and finished with an honest stone cap. Ruins are charming in the right place, but a tattered chimney-top on an otherwise well-preserved house is vastly more shabby than picturesque. A common objection to brick houses is their redness; but there is no law against painting them, if their natural color is really inharmonious. Paint will improve the walls, will last longer on good brickwork than on wood, and there is no deception about it, unless you try to imitate stone. Still, it is not necessary, oil being just as good; and there is a sort of solid comfort in knowing that your house will look just as well fifty years hence as it does now, that it will mellow and ripen with age, and not need constant petting and nursing to preserve its tidiness. The model house to which I alluded in beginning this subject will be, in brief, somewhat as follows: The outer walls will be vaulted, thoroughly non-conducting both of heat and of moisture. All the partitions will be of brick, precisely adapted in size to their use,--I am not sure but they will be hollow. The body of the floors will be of brick, supported, if need be, by iron ties or girders, all exactly fitted to the dimensions of the rooms, so that not a pound of material or an hour of labor shall be wasted on guess-work or in experiments. From turret to foundation-stone, the house will be a living, breathing, organic thing. If the weather prophet will declare what the average temperature of the winter is to be, we can tell to a hodful how much coal will maintain a summer heat throughout the establishment. You may be sure it will not be more than you now use in keeping two rooms uncomfortably hot and in baking the family pies. There will be no lathing, except occasionally on the ceilings; even this will not be necessary. You may make a holocaust of the contents of any room in the house, and, if the doors, finish, etc., happen to be of iron, as they may be, no one in the house will suspect your bonfire, until the heap of charcoal and ashes is found. Dampness and decay, unsavory odors and impure air, chilly bedrooms and cold floors, will be unknown. The ears in the walls will be stopped, there will be no settlement from shrinking timbers, no jelly-like trembling of the whole fabric when the master puts his foot down. Finally, the dear old house will be just as sound and just as lovely when the future John brings home his bride as when his grandsire built it. And it won't cost a cent more than the weak, unstable things we're raising by the thousand. The coming house will surely be a brick one, but before it comes there will be plenty of work for the carpenters, and I shall not be at all surprised if you finally decide to build of wood. LETTER XVI. From Mrs. John. DOMESTIC DISCIPLINE. MR. ARCHITECT: Dear Sir,--Yesterday afternoon Sister Jane and I went out after May-flowers. We didn't find any, but on our way home met the schoolmaster, a friend of Jane's, who knew where they grew and offered himself as a guide. I was too tired to walk any farther, so they went off without me. Coming into the house, I was taken all aback by the sight of John lying on my best lounge, his muddy boots on his feet, his hat on the floor, and your last letter crumpled savagely in his hand. I was vexed, thankful, and--frightened. I've taught the baby, who is only twenty-nine months old, to hang up his little cap, and not to climb into the chairs with his shoes on, but I can't make a model husband of John. He is as good as gold, but will leave his hat on the floor, his coat on the nearest chair, and never keeps himself or any of his things in order in the house. He says it's born with him; comes from a long line of ancestors (he's been reading Darwin lately) who lived in houses without any cupboards or drawers or closets, and he could no more put away his hat and coat when he comes in than a blue-jay could build a hang-bird's nest. Yes; I was vexed, but thankful, too, that Jane was out of sight. Of all people in the world; she has the least mercy for anything like domestic untidiness. I only hope she will some time have a house and a husband of her own; if one doesn't shine and the other shake, her practice will fall a long way behind her preaching. Let me warn you now, not to attempt making any plans for her. It will be worry and vexation of spirit from first to last. Every knot will be examined, every shingle ironed flat before it is laid, every nail counted and driven by rule. When I tell her it would wear me out, body and mind, to feel obliged to keep things always in order, she gravely reminds me that Mrs. Keep-clean lived ten years longer than Mrs. Clean-up, besides having an easier time, a tidy house, and an enviable reputation all her life. Yes; I was thankful she had gone philandering off after May-flowers, and hoped she would stay till I had had time to brush up the room and get John into presentable shape. But as soon as I went to rouse him I was thoroughly frightened. His face was flushed, his hair was ruffled, and he looked up in such a dazed kind of way, I really thought he was going to have something dreadful. He held out your letter and told me to read the last sentence, which I did. Even then I didn't understand what was the trouble until he went on to say that your final charge was too much for him. He was totally discouraged. You began, he said, by urging him to build a stone house, which neither of us liked, though we finally came around to it,--even went so far as to commence hauling stones. All at once you went into ecstasies over brickwork, and argued for it as though our hope of salvation lay in our living in a brick house. Now, as he was beginning to feel that he must change his mind again (he would almost as soon change his head) and cultivate an admiration for brickwork, you must needs switch off upon another track and coolly advise him to build of wood! He declared he was further from a new house to-day than three months ago. At that rate we should live in the old one till it tumbled down over our heads, which I don't propose to do. [Illustration: A WISE GENERAL.] The baby was asleep, so I sat down on the lounge, took John's head in my lap, and tried to explain what you meant. I told him I had heard enough about brick, and didn't care what you said about wood. We should hold to our original plan and have a stone house; but you didn't know where it was to be, and wished us to be thoroughly posted, then use our common-sense and decide for ourselves what it should be. In some places it would be most absurd to build of wood; in others equally so to build of anything else. The matter of cost, too, might affect our choice, and that you knew nothing about. In my efforts to restore his equanimity, I had forgotten my broom and dust-pan, lying in the middle of the floor; forgotten John's big boots, not only on the lounge, but directly on one of Jane's most exquisite tidies; forgotten--actually forgotten--the baby, and was treating my disturbed husband in genuine ante-matrimonial style, when, of all things to happen at this very crisis, in marched Sister Jane and her cavalier! Simultaneously the baby awoke with a resounding scream. Now there are three things that my notable sister holds in especial abhorrence,--untidy housekeeping, sentimental demonstrations between married people, and crying babies; and here they all were in an avalanche, overwhelming, not only herself, but a most prepossessing young man, who, for all I knew, was viewing me with a critic's eye, as a possible sister-in-law, and wondering how far certain traits are universal in families. You will think I stand in great awe of Sister Jane; and so I do, for though she is two years younger than I, unmarried, and, candidly, not a bit wiser, she is one of those oracular persons who, unlike Mr. Toots, not only fancy that what they say and do is of the utmost consequence, but contrive to make other people think so, too. It is one of my husband's notions that nothing in the house is too good to be used every day by those he loves best, meaning baby and I. So I have no parlor--no best room always ready for exhibition--into which I could send them, but my inspiration came just at the right moment. "Don't, Jane, don't, for pity's sake, bring all that rubbish into the sitting-room!" She had her hands full of moss and flowers. "Please take it out on the piazza. John will carry you some chairs." And Jane was positively too much astonished to say a single word, but turned and walked out the way she came in, driving her dutiful escort before her. Fortunately, our piazza is eight or nine feet wide. I wouldn't have one less than that. So John took out the chairs, and was properly presented to the young gentleman. Half an hour later, when order once more prevailed, I went out to find Jane finishing a lovely moss basket, and the gentlemen amiably building air-castles. John had been reading your last letter aloud, omitting your reply to Jane's question, and was advocating brick in a most edifying fashion. As I sat down, the young man inquired very seriously if there would be any difficulty in making additions to a brick house, in case one wished to begin in a small way. John gave one of his queer looks, and guessed not; I, for a wonder, kept still; and Jane blushed brilliantly, remembering that she had already asked the same question on her friend's account. I am, truly, anxious about the kitchen and closets, whatever nonsense my husband may write, but should be sorry to have the house look just like any other, and, of course, wish to have it look well. Why may not our stone house be built in the manner of your model brick one, at least basement and first story, thoroughly warmed and ventilated, brick partitions, fire-proof, and so on,--that is, if we can afford it? And that brings me to the question that I intended to ask in the beginning, Are these suggestions intended to apply to common kind of buildings or only to those that are usually described as "first class"? Architectural rules and the principles of good taste are not thought to concern those who, in building, know no law but necessity,--with whom the problem is to get the greatest amount of use for the least possible outlay. John is industrious and serene, this morning. He thinks my letter isn't very practical, and hopes you won't forget that the subject in hand is house-building, not family history. Yours truly, MRS. JOHN. LETTER XVII. From the Architect. GOOD TASTE IS NOT A FOE BUT A FRIEND TO ECONOMY. MRS. JOHN: Dear Madam,--For your wise and tender treatment of John you have my heartiest thanks and admiration. It is not strictly an architectural suggestion, but could you not found a sort of training-school for wives who have not learned to manage their refractory husbands? I'm sure you would have plenty of pupils. Your query as to applying these hints I am glad to answer. Instead of preventing its indulgence, close economy demands the exercise of the most refined taste. The very houses that must pay strict regard to the first principles of art are those upon which not one dollar can be wasted. But these fundamental rules are identical, whether the building costs five hundred dollars or fifty thousand. When the newspapers describe "first-class" houses, those above a certain size or cost are meant. Let us henceforth have a truer standard, placing only those in the front rank whose design and construction are throughout in wise accord with the material of which they are built and the uses for which they are intended. Notwithstanding your want of interest in the wood question, I must give your husband one chapter on that subject, and promise him it shall be thoroughly practical, free from all romance and family allusions. LETTER XVIII. From John. OUR PICTURESQUE ANCESTORS. MY DEAR ARCHITECT: I've no doubt it would be vastly agreeable to you to have Mrs. John keep up this end of the correspondence. Very gratifying, too, to another party,--the paper-makers. It would be a big thing for them. But I don't want to hire a housekeeper, even in so good a cause, not till I have a house. In spite of Mrs. John's devotion to her first love (I mean the stone walls), it is, as you say, quite possible that our family mansion will be wood; and Barkis is willin' to hear what you have to say about it. One topic in your reply to my wife's historical report I hope you will work up more fully. Just explain, if you can, why the cheap buildings we have nowadays are so much less satisfactory to look at than those built fifty or a hundred years ago. Do you suppose the bravest artist that ever swung a brush would dare put an ordinary two-story house of modern style on the front seat in a New England landscape? It would ruin his reputation if he did,--even without the French roof. Can you tell why? There's no such objection to the homesteads of a generation or two ago. Don't tell me age is venerable, and moralize about the sacred associations and old-time memories that lend a halo of poetry and romance and what-'s-his-name to these relics of the past. That's all very well in its place, but if our grandchildren can discover anything artistic or even picturesque in our common houses of to-day, they'll be a progeny of enormous imaginations,--regular Don Quixotes; windmills will be nothing to them. Yours, JOHN. LETTER XIX. From the Architect. THE USE AND THE ABUSE OF WOOD. DEAR JOHN: One reason, among many, why the old-time houses are more grateful to the eye than those of similar cost but modern style, is that they were built of wood honestly and legitimately used, when wood was on all accounts the most suitable material for building. It is so still, and will be for a long time in many places, for its economy and convenience. Given a fair chance, it may be made very durable, and is even rendered practically fire-proof without great cost, by kyanizing and various other methods that are adopted for the same purpose. You will find one mode described in the June number of Harper's Magazine for 1870. Wood is effective, too, in appearance, when rightly used, which, more's the pity, does not often happen; for of all the materials that minister to human comfort and needs, this seems to me the most abused. Iron, like the old-time saints, betrays not its solid worth till it has been tried by fire,--is all the better for being hammered and beaten; stone is as much improved as an unruly boy by a good dressing; while bricks, like ghosts, come forth from their purgatory for the express purpose of being laid. All of these, by appropriate treatment, are invested with graces and glories that by nature they never owned. But a tree, graceful, noble, and grand beyond all human imitation, is ignominiously hewn down, every natural beauty disguised or annihilated, and its helpless form compelled to assume most uncouth shapes and grimmest colors. [Illustration: THE GROVES WERE GOD'S FIRST TEMPLES.] Of late our injustice is greater and more disastrous; for we are destroying the very sources of supply without providing for the future, using wood in large quantities where other materials would be better and cheaper. Yet we think ourselves very economical. Once it was common to enclose wood buildings of all grades by walls at least ten or twelve inches thick, sometimes much more, and solid at that. They were called log-houses. Now it is the fashion to use two by four inch studs standing in rows at such distances that the whole substance of the frame in a single sheet would be about half an inch thick. These are suggestively called balloon frames. The former would be huge and inconvenient, the latter are often fair and frail. That the frame of the outer wall of a wooden building should be mainly vertical is evident, the outer studs, if possible, extending from the sill to the plates, and as many of the inner ones as may be reaching through both stories, especially those by the staircase, where the shrinking of the second-floor timbers will reveal ugly cracks and crooks. That the greatest strength and economy of material are secured by sawing logs into thin, wide scantling is also beyond question, but don't try to save too closely on a bill of timber. A thousand feet added to the width of the studs and the depth of the joist will make the difference between a stiff, unterrified frame, and a weak, trembling one. Neither be sparing of the number of these light sticks. Sixteen inches between centres is far enough for studs or joists; twelve is better, though particulars will depend on circumstances. We have no use for the old-fashioned huge square posts, horizontal girts, and braces midway the walls of a two-story building, having found that studs two inches by five will carry all that is required of them as well as if ten times as large. Let us generously give the light frame the stanch support of a sound, well-matched, and bountifully nailed covering of inch boards. There's great virtue in tenpenny nails. Let the building be well peppered with them. Even after boarding, your walls will have less than two inches of solid wood. If you wish to make an example of yourself, lay this boarding diagonally; and, to cap the climax of scientific thoroughness, having given it a good nailing and a layer of sheathing-felt, cover the whole with another wooden garment of the same style as the first, and crossing it at right angles. All of this before the final overcoat of clapboards, or whatever it may be. A house built in this way would laugh at earthquakes and tornadoes. It couldn't fall down, but would blow over and roll down hill without doing any damage except disarranging the furniture, and, possibly, shaking off the chimney-tops! It would hardly need any studs except as furrings for lath and plastering, and would be very warm. You know my mind about floors. If you can't afford joists stiff enough to hold you without jarring, even when you chance to cut a caper with the baby, defer building till you are a little richer. Floors need the well-nailed linings, too, especially those of the upper stories, almost as much as the outer walls, and should be deafened with mortar if you can stand the cost; if not, with felt. The upper floors we will talk over by and by. Some people have a fancy for filling in between studs with soft brick, but I don't believe in it. It is seldom well done, it injures the frame, and costs more than back plastering, without being much if any better. Rather build a brick house outright. It is well, however, to lay a course or two of brick in mortar against each floor, filling the space between the inner base board and the outer covering entirely full and solid, leaving never the faintest hint of the beginning of a chance for mice. Then when you hear the dear little creatures galloping over the ceiling, driving hickory-nuts before them and making noise enough for a whole battalion of wharf rats, there will be a melancholy satisfaction in knowing that you did your best to keep them out, and these brick courses will make the house warmer by preventing currents of air. Here is one advantage in wood not easily obtained in brick or stone,--the overhanging of the whole, or a part of the second story, which may be made picturesque in effect and will add much to the charm of the interior. It may be simply an oriel window swinging forward to catch the sun or a distant view, an entire gable pushing the guest-chamber hospitably forth, or the whole upper story may extend beyond the lower walls, giving large chambers, abundant closets, and cosey window-seats. Of course, such projections must be well sustained. Let their support be apparent, in the shape of massive brackets or the actual timbers of the house. Speaking of brackets, if we could learn to think of them, wherever they occur, simply as braces, we might have better success in their treatment. Our abominable achievements in this line spring from an attempt to hide the use of the thing in its abstract beauty. The straight three by four inch braces found under any barn-shed roof are positively more agreeable to look at than the majority of the distorted, turned, and becarved blocks of strange device that hang in gorgeous array upon thousands of "ornamental" houses. Besides these there are a host of pet performances of builders and would-be architects that deserve only to be abolished and exterminated; put up, as they are, with an enormous waste of pine and painful toil of the flesh, to become a lasting weariness to the spirit. Far more satisfying and truly ornamental is it, to let the essential structure of the building be its own interpreter. Very much can be done by a skilful arrangement of the outer covering alone. Don't try to clothe the house with a smooth coat of boards laid horizontally with no visible joints or corner finish. Such a covering is costly, defective, and contrary to first principles. Clapboards are good. Hardly anything is better, but don't feel restricted to one mode. I send you some sketches suggesting what may be done in this department by a careful design in the use of wide boards and narrow boards, clapboards and battens; boards horizontal, vertical, and cornerwise,--any and all are legitimate, and it may be well to use them all on one building. [Illustration: OUTER FINISH OF WOOD.] Many points relating to the use of wood and appertaining equally to buildings whose walls are of brick or stone, we may find farther on. In closing, let me adjure you by all your hope of a comfortable, safe, and satisfying house,--by all the common-sense in your possession and all the capital at your command,--resolve that you will never--no, never--build your house of unseasoned timber. LETTER XX. From John. A SURRENDER AND CHANGE OF BASE. MY DEAR ARCHITECT: It was very well for Noah and the other antediluvians, who had any little building to do, to wait for their timber to season. When a man has a thousand years or so to live, he can afford to take things easy. It's different in this great and glorious nineteenth century, when the chief aim is to make the shortest time on record. You know our Western farmers have a brisk way of going out into their thousand-acre wheatfields before breakfast, reaping, threshing, and grinding the grain, which their thrifty wives make into biscuit for the morning meal; and you've heard of the young man who caught a sheep in the morning, sheared it, carded, spun, and wove the wool, cut the cloth and made the coat to wear at his own wedding in the evening. Young America don't understand why a pine or an oak tree can't be put over the course, like a sheep or an acre of grain. Besides, you talk like an old fogy. When a man says he has decided to build a house, he means he is ready to begin,--right off; and if our lumber-dealers won't keep dry stuff (which of course they won't unless obliged to), then he must use green. I'm surprised you don't admire the fanciful brackets and other wooden straddle-bugs people are so fond of decorating their houses with. By the way, if these brackets are purely ornamental, there ought not to be two alike, any more than you'd have two busts or two pictures alike in one room. Suppose you collect an assortment of the rich and rarest specimens, and hang them, like Lord Dundreary's shirts, "all in a wo," on somebody's villa. Wouldn't they be lovely? I'd like to pursue the subject, but have other fish to fry. Mrs. John is right, as usual; our house will be a stone one, and will not be built until next year. Meantime, the timber will have a chance to season, and we shall have time to study up our plan and sort of get the hang of it. Now I want you to transfer your interest to another case. Who should drop down upon us, last week, but our old friend Fred? Been out West for the last dozen years or more; enterprising and prosperous, you'll be glad to hear. Come home to stay, bringing a wife who is sure to make Mrs. John jealous, a triplet of boys (the oldest half as big as his dad), and plenty of stamps. He has bought the Captain Adams place, and is going to move off the old gambrel-roofed house (has a dozen or two men at work already) and build a brick one in place of it. I've given him the benefit of your advice in my behalf, and now he invites me, in Western fashion, to stand aside and give him a chance,--which I'm very willing to do, for he's a tiptop fellow and so is Mrs. Fred. Eastern people Westernized,--if you can find a better sort of neighbors I'd like an introduction! Yours, JOHN. LETTER XXI. From the Architect. HOSPITALITY AND SUNLIGHT. DEAR JOHN: Our old friend shall not be neglected. He has only to present his case and make known his wishes. Meantime, in arranging your own plans, be generous if you can; not lavish or extravagant in expenditure, but generous in feeling and expression. Let your doors and windows be wide, and your roof be high. A wide door is far more convenient than a narrow one, usually much better in appearance; and for the windows,--when shall we learn the unspeakable worth of the bountiful light of heaven? Does Mrs. John complain that the sunlight will fade her carpets? Let them fade, and know of a truth that all the colors of all the carpets of all the looms that ever throbbed are not worth to the civilized mortals who tread the dust-containing fabrics one single hour of unobstructed sunshine. Is it that our deeds are evil, that we seem to love darkness rather than light; or is it through our ignorant exclusion of this glorious gift, "offspring of heaven first born," that we are left to wander in so many darksome ways? Be generous, did I say? rather try to be just to yourself. Practically, the larger opening is scarcely more expensive than the small one. The work of construction is no greater, and the material for the door or window costs but little more than the thicker wall of wood, brick, or stone. [Illustration: "THE OLD HOUSE AT HOME."] I remember an old farm-house on the side of one of our rocky New England hills, a type of a fashion almost extinct, broad and brooding, low in the walls, small windows and far between, high roof, wide gables, pierced by windows of various sizes, and queerly located, as if the huge garret were inhabited by a mixed company of dwarfs and giants, each with his own particular window suited to his height; in the centre a massive chimney like the base of a tower, out of which the smoke rolled in lazy curves. At the east side of the house, under the narrow eaves, and opening, I think, into the long kitchen, was one huge window, as high as the others, and as wide as it was high. How it found a place there I never knew, but nothing could be more benign in effect than its generous breadth. The panes were small and green and warped, after the manner of glass known to former times; but through it the sun poured a flood of warm light every morning, and on winter evenings the glow of the firelight within made a grand illumination far across the snowy hillsides; yet I don't think the old window was ever truly appreciated. The others seemed to despise it, and try to keep at a distance in their narrowness and regularity. The little square loopholes in the gables lifted their diminutive eyebrows in contempt; even the green door looked blank and scowling, as though at a possible rival. I fancy the housekeeper fretted at the larger curtain covering this wide, unwinking eye, and the extra labor required on cleaning-days. But this one great square window was the sole redeeming feature beneath the roof of the ancient farm-house. Beneath the roof, I say. The roof itself was, and is, and ever shall be the great charm of those antiquated houses,--not of the old alone, but if any new house shall ever rise, if you succeed in building your own so that it shall seem to be the abiding-place of the incarnate genius of domestic happiness, the roof of your earthly paradise will be bold and high. Pierced by windows it may be, and broken by gables, but steep enough to shed rain and snow, and high enough to be plainly visible to the coming guest, promising safety and welcome beneath its tranquil shade. Practically, the steep roof is better than any other, because a flat one cannot be as permanently covered with any known material at so little cost, the multitudes of cheap and durable patent roofings to the contrary notwithstanding. By steep roofs I mean any that have sufficient pitch to allow the use of slate or shingle. Such need not be intricate or difficult of construction to look well, but must be honest and useful. They can be neither unless visible, and here we see the holy alliance of use and beauty; for the character and expression of a building depend almost wholly upon the roof. You will lose, too, under the flat roof, the roomy garret of the old high-roofed houses. These have for me a wonderful fascination. Whether the rain upon the shingles, the mingled fragrance of seeds and drying herbs, the surprising bigness of the chimney, the mysteries hidden in the worm-eaten chests, the almost saintly charm of the long-unused spinning-wheels, crumbling mementos of the patient industry of former generations, or the shine of the stars through the chinks in the shrunken boards, the old garret and all its associations are among the "long, long thoughts." I sometimes doubt whether the modern conveniences we are so fond of proclaiming are really an equivalent to the rising generation for this happiest of playrooms, this storehouse of heirlooms, this silent but potent tie, that binds us to the life, the labor, and the love of the past. [Illustration: FORTY-TWO FEET SQUARE.] Let there be light, too, in this upper story. Spinning spiders and stinging wasps are not half so terrible to the children who will make a half-way paradise of the garret as the darkness that is covered by an unlighted roof. If you have been living in cottage-chambers,--rooms in which a full-sized man can hardly stand erect in the centre, and a well-grown baby scarcely creep at the sides, unventilated, heated beyond endurance during the hot summer days, and retaining their heat through the long, wakeful nights,--rooms in which the furniture must stand at various distances from the walls as if marshalled for the house-cleaning battle, but in which even the making of beds is a work of supreme difficulty,--if you've been living in such rooms as these, I don't wonder, whatever architects or other men may say, that Mrs. John objects, and insists on good, square chambers. But good, square chambers no more require flat roofs than good, square common-sense requires a flat head. I don't believe you will contrive a house, of whatever form or size, that may not be covered more cheaply, more securely, and more tastefully by a steep roof than by a flat one. Of course, I'm supposing your house to be isolated. Buildings in crowded streets or in blocks require, on all accounts, entirely different treatment. By all means, then, have wide doors, generous windows, and high roofs; and if you must build with strict economy you may be morally certain that your house, though not perhaps as altogether lovely as you might wish, will still be cheerful and homelike. Allow me to add, that, while faithfully striving to build a house that shall be honest and cheerful, you will surely find yourself growing in the same direction. LETTER XXII. From Fred. UNPROFESSIONAL SAGACITY. DEAR ARCHITECT: Our mutual friend John recommends me to ask your advice in regard to plans for my new house. Possibly you may help me, although the floor plans sent herewith are about right; rooms enough and of the right size, the principal ones adapted to the usual widths of carpeting. I am willing to expend something for the outside appearance,--in fact, intend to have the best looking house in town,--but think it would be foolish to build more rooms or larger than I want, much more so to dispense with needed room in order to get a certain proportion of parts. I merely mention this because, with all due respect, I am doubtless the best judge of my own wants, and don't care to have the dimensions of the building changed. The relative location of the different apartments is also satisfactory, except perhaps some slight deficiencies in the rear portion, which I left incomplete for want of time. As to exterior, would like a French roof and tower, with fashionable style of finish throughout. Shall commence laying foundation next week, and you will please consider yourself invited to eat turkey with us in the new house next Thanksgiving. Truly, FRED. LETTER XXIII. From the Architect. STAIRWAYS AND OUTLOOKS. Dear Fred: Your plans are before me, also your letter; also the proverbs of Solomon, from which I read, in order to fortify myself for the work before me, sundry suggestions concerning the duty of faithful friends,--the undaunted, disagreeable sort who cry aloud and spare not. It's quite right for you to try to show what you would like, quite true that you ought to know your own needs and tastes better than any one else, and though I cannot agree with you, I'm glad you have a mind of your own; those who have not are of all men most miserable to deal with, most difficult to suit. Indeed, when a man feels clearly a lack in his own home-life which nothing but a new house will supply, he is sure to have some decided notions as to what that house shall be. But when you assure me in good set terms that this plan is your beau-ideal, I must ask, also with profound respect, if you know what you are talking about. Put in your foundation, by all means, but remember how much easier it is to change a few lines on paper than to remove a stone wall. It is not a pleasant job to cut a door into a finished and furnished room, or even to change the hanging of it. This house, if I understand aright, you intend for a permanent home. How immeasurably better to spend six months, if need be, in perfecting the plans, than by and by to be tormented with defects that can only be removed by great expense and trouble! It's a grand thing to go ahead, provided you are right; the more "go," the worse, if you happen to be on the wrong track. Candidly, your plan hardly deserves to be called a beginning. The arrangement of the rear part, which you chiefly omit, is, in fact, the most difficult and important of the whole. But I've promised Sister Jane a chapter on kitchens, of which, when the time comes, you can have the benefit. Meanwhile, complete the unfinished part of your plan,--it only requires you to spend a few brief moments,--and I will venture some suggestions on this which lies before me. The front stairs as laid down would reach just half-way to the second floor,--a peculiarity of amateur sketches so universal that we will say nothing more about it. But what principle of good taste or hospitality requires you to blockade the main entrance to your house with this same staircase? Do you send all your visitors, of whatever name or nation, direct to the upper regions the moment they enter? Why, then, make the northwest passage thither the most conspicuous route from the door? Do you intend to restrict the family to the back stairs, which by your showing are, like the famous _descensus Averno_, wonderfully easy to go down, but mighty hard to get up again? Yet you place these front stairs at the very farthest remove from the rooms most constantly used in both stories. Perhaps you propose to announce "apartments to let" on the second and third floors. No? What reason, then, for imitating hotels, lodging-houses, double-barrelled tenements, and other public and semi-public buildings from which a short cut to the street is essential? Don't tell me you wish them to be ornamental as well as useful. I know that; but remember the stairs are built for the house, not the house for the stairs. You had better lose them wholly as an ornamental feature, than destroy the charm of what should be the most prepossessing portion of the interior. Moreover, they can have no pleasure-giving beauty if manifestly out of place,--a safe rule for general application. Build them where they will be most useful, that is, as near the centre of the house as possible; make them grand and gorgeous as the steps to an Oriental palace,--so broad and easy of ascent that the upward and onward way will be as tempting as were the Alps to Mr. Longfellow's aspiring youth. But keep them away from the front door,--out of the principal hall, which should be open, airy, and free, suggesting something besides an everlasting getting up stairs. If the staircase hall cannot be arranged at right angles to the main hall, an arch or ornamental screen may be introduced, partially separating the two and giving character to both. Have you been living in a city of late? It must be, else why so complacent with a narrow hall, steep, obtrusive stairs, and, O, why, tell me why, do you not fix the location of your windows with some regard to views, not only out of the house but through it. I remember one country dwelling built by a retired civilian in the inevitable city style; windows at the end giving a narrow view of the road in front, while the entire side walls were absolutely blank and bare, never so much as a knot-hole through which the occupants could get a glimpse of the field and forest that stretched broadly away at either side. I've no doubt the owner hung oil-paintings on his parlor walls, and thought them more lovely than all out-doors,--especially when he remembered their cost. The old Roman who declared his soldiers made a bigger racket with their arms than Jupiter with his thunderbolts, was modest beyond comparison with such a man. Your arrangement is not quite so bad as that of the aforesaid civilian, but, like hosts of others, you fail to make the most of your opportunities. Suppose you were able to secure for a small sum a landscape painted by one of the masters and esteemed of great value. You would think it folly to let the chance pass unimproved. By simply cutting a hole in the wall you may have a picture infinitely grander than human artist ever painted; grander in its teaching, in its actual beauty, its variety, and its permanency; grander in everything except its market value. I am not sure but your children's children will find some one window in the old homestead that commands a view of the everlasting hills, an heirloom even of greater pecuniary value than the rarest work of art. Do not forget, either, the views _through_ the house. If your windows can be placed so that throwing open the doors from room to room or across the hall will reveal a charming prospect in opposite directions, there's a sense of being in the midst of an all-surrounding beauty, hardly possible when you seem to look upon it from one side only. You have surely been abiding in a city. The interior of your house is all that concerns you or your family. The outside--French roof and fashionable finish, forsooth!--is for the public to admire. They are not to have any intimation what sort of a home is sheltered by your monstrous Mansard; and it never occurs to you that there can be anything out of doors worth building your house to see. [Illustration: "LOOK OUT, NOT IN."] Here is another unhappy result of evil examples,--the sliding-doors between the two parlors, as you call them,--an arrangement convenient enough, sometimes indispensable in houses built on crowded streets, houses that only breathe the dusty air and catch the struggling sunbeams at their narrow and remote extremities,--air and sunlight at nobody knows how many hundred dollars the front foot. They are worse than useless in such a house as yours. I say your plan is scarcely a beginning; the same of this letter. But it's enough for once. LETTER XXIV. From Fred. IN A MULTITUDE OF COUNSELLORS IS SAFETY. MY DEAR ARCHITECT: Your criticisms are not wholly without reason. I can only plead haste and inexperience. Have been studying arrangement of rear part, and seem to get farther and farther from a satisfactory result. The kitchen and dining-room must be convenient to each other, but not adjacent; the pantries and larder easy to get at; back stairs accessible from all parts of the house, and side entrance worked in somehow; washbowl and water-closet not far off, but out of sight, and the whole department quite isolated from front hall. My wife can't think of pantry and store-rooms at the south side, nor do we want kitchen or outer door at the north. John's sister-in-law, Miss Jane, who appears to have some sensible notions, thinks a kitchen should always have windows on opposite sides for light and ventilation. John says I should have a kitchen large enough for wash-trays and a set kettle, but one of my neighbors, who has just built a house, advises a laundry in the cellar. Altogether it's a troublesome problem, and, frankly, I give it up. Do you really expect us to dispense with sliding-doors between the parlors? I'm sure that won't pass. We would almost as soon give up the bay-windows,--everybody has them nowadays. Truly, Fred. LETTER XXV. From the Architect. DOORS AND SLIDING-DOORS, WINDOWS AND BAY-WINDOWS. DEAR FRED: "Everybody has them!" What a monstrous load of iniquity and nonsense that scape-goat has to carry! Everybody wears tight boots and bustles and chignons and stove-pipe hats. Everybody smokes and brags, and cheats in trade, not to mention a host of other abominations that can give only this excuse for their being: they are common to a few millions of people who have not learned to declare a reason for the faith that is in them or the works that grow out of them. Let us take time to consider this sliding-door question,--folding-doors they used to be, and, truly, I'm not sure that the rollers are any improvement on the hinges,--there is something dreadfully barny about sliding-doors. Why do you want either? You have one room which you call the parlor, supposed to be the best in the house, as to its location, its finish, its furniture, and its use. Three of its walls are handsomely frescoed, curtained, and decorated with pictures or other ornaments; the fourth is one huge barricade of panel-work. When the two parts are closed you have a constant fancy of rheumatic currents stealing through the cracks, and an ever-present fear lest they should suddenly fly open with "impetuous recoil, grating harsh thunder" on their wheels, and not exactly letting Satan in, but everything in the room fall out; an idle fear, for they can only be shoved asunder by dint of much pushing and pulling, especially if they are warped by having one side exposed to more heat than the other, as usually happens. Being at last opened by hook or crook, another room is revealed, commonly smaller, more shabby in appearance, a sort of poor-relation attachment, spoiling the completeness and artistic unity of the larger one. By care you may avoid something of this; if you follow the fashion, you will have the most of it. When the two rooms are twins, alike in every respect, they are really one large room, fitted up, for economical reasons, with a movable screen in the centre, by means of which you may warm (excepting rheumatic currents as above) and use one half at a time. But call things by their right names. Don't talk grandly about your two parlors when you mean two halves of one. Have wide doors, by all means, not only between rooms but into main hall,--four, six, or eight feet, if the rooms are so wide and high that they shall not be disproportionately large. Then, if you must have the whole broadside of sliding or folding doors, let the two rooms thus connected be of different styles but equal richness,--different, that they shall not seem one room cut in two,--peers, that one shall not shame and cheapen the other. Doors are a great bother, at best. I wish they could be abolished. They are always slamming, punching holes in the plastering with their knobs, creaking on their hinges, bruising the piano, pinching babies' fingers, and making old folks see stars when they get up in the night to look for burglars. Heavy curtains are infinitely more graceful, equally warm, and not half so stubbornly unmanageable. Then think of entering a room. By her steps the goddess is revealed; but who can walk like a goddess while forcing an entrance between two sliding-doors, maybe wedging fast half-way through? How different from passing in quiet dignity beneath the rich folds of overhanging drapery! But I suppose we must leave all that to the Orientals, at present. "You would almost as soon give up the bay-windows!" Well, you might e'en do worse than that. Now let your indignation boil. Bay-windows are very charming things sometimes; sometimes they are nuisances. Some have been so appropriate and altogether lovely that any pepper box contrivance thrusting itself out from the main walls and looking three ways for Sunday is supposed to be a bower of beauty, a perfect pharos of observation, an abundant recompense for unmitigated ugliness and inconvenience in the rest of the building. Truly, a well-ordered bay-window will often change a gloomy, graceless room into a cheerful and artistic one, but large, simple windows are sometimes rather to be chosen than too much bay. In many, perhaps the majority, of cases, it is wiser to extend the whole wall of the room in the form of a half-hexagon or three sides of an octagon, costing no more, and repaying the cost far more abundantly. While on the subject let us finish it. If you indulge in a regular bay-window, make it large enough to be of real use; don't feel constrained to build it with more than fifteen sides; remember that two stories will not cost twice as much as one, while the second is pretty certain to be the pleasanter; don't carry the ceiling of the main room level and unbroken into the bay, or, because a certain one you may have seen looks well in its place, resolve to have another just like it, regardless of its surroundings. I sometimes fancy there must be a factory where bay-windows are made for the wholesale trade, all of one style, strictly orthodox, five-sided, bracketed, blinded, painted with striped paint, and ready to barnacle on wherever required. In the stereotyped pattern the blinds are apt to be troublesome. If outside, they clash against each other and refuse to be fastened open; while inside they are a mighty maze of folds, flaps, brass buts, and rolling slats. In the first case, wide piers between the sash are necessary; in the second, boxings for the blinds. Both require ample room, which, fortunately, you have. Sixthly, and in conclusion, there is no one feature which may be more charming, combining so much of comfort and beauty, as windows of this class, from the simple opening, pushed forward a few inches beyond the wall face, to the broad extension of the entire room; but there be bays and bays. Speaking of blinds,--what shall be done with the other windows? You will protest against concealing your elegant, single panes of plate-glass by outside blinds,--it won't answer to hide your light under a bushel in that way,--and yet while there is no complete finish without well-arranged inside shutters, they alone are sadly inefficient in rooms with a southern exposure, where light and air are needed. They may be fitted with boxings, into which they are folded, or arranged to slide into the wall. I like the old-fashioned boxing, window-seat and all, also the ancient close-panelled shutters. True they make a room pitch-dark when closed, and it is doubtless wisest to have some of their central folds made with movable slats, but they give a charming sense of security and seclusion when the wintry blasts roar around our castle. On the other hand, the light outside blinds, that shake and rattle and bang when the stormy winds "do blow, do blow," are a fair substitute for the cooling shade of forest-trees. You may have learned that life is a succession of compromises. Building in New England certainly is. No sooner do we get nicely fortified with furnaces, storm-porches, double windows, and forty tons of anthracite, than June bursts upon us with ninety degrees in the shade. Then how we despise our contrivances for keeping warm, and bless the ice-man! We wish the house was all piazza, and if it were not for burglars and mosquitoes, would abjure walls and roof and live in the open air. Just here is our dilemma. We go "from Greenland's icy mountains to India's coral strands" and back again every twelve months, whether we will or no, and are obliged to live in the same house through it all. It's really a desperate matter. I've been to the ant and the beasts and the birds. They recommend hibernating or migration, but our wings are too short for the one, our fur too thin for the other! Seriously, you must not forget to prepare for extremes of climate. Fortunately the walls that most thoroughly resist the cold are effective against the heat. The doors and windows--the living, breathing, seeing, working part of the house--demand the twofold provision. You must have double windows in winter, to be taken off (laid away and more or less smashed up) in summer; outside blinds to ward off the summer sun, which may, in their turn, be removed when we are only too glad to welcome all the sunshine there is. The vestibules--portable storm-porches are not to be tolerated--must also be skilful doorkeepers, proof against hostile storms, but freely admitting the wandering zephyrs. Piazzas are not so easily managed. We like them broad and endless in July and August, but the shadows they cast we would fain remove when the very trees fold away their sunshades. Often a platform, terrace, balcony,--whatever you please to call it, practically a piazza without a roof,--is the best thing to have, for this will not keep the sun from the windows, when comfort requires it may be shaded by a movable awning, and by its sunny cheerfulness it will lengthen our out-door enjoyment two or three months in the year. You are still floundering helplessly in the kitchen. I've no doubt Sister Jane has excellent ideas on the subject,--probably knows ten times as much about it as you do. Why not ask her to arrange matters for you? LETTER XXVI. From Fred. EXPERIENCE KEEPS A DEAR SCHOOL. MY DEAR ARCHITECT: We will let the sliding-doors slide, but hold on to the bay-windows. I've acted upon your suggestion, and called on Miss Jane to help me through the kitchen. She is studying the matter and will report to you soon. Meantime, will you give directions about other inside work? I want it to be ornamental and modern in style. Shall finish mostly in hard wood,--oak, walnut, or chestnut, perhaps mahogany and maple. Please give me your opinion on that point. What do you think of graining where hard wood is not used? Shall probably carpet throughout, and hope you will not change dimensions of rooms to spoil the fit of them. What about wainscoting halls or any of the rooms? Suppose common floors will answer, and common plastering for the walls, if I paper; but shall I,--or do you recommend frescoing; and what do you say to cornices and other stucco-work? I've no time to go over all the points in your last. Some of them seem well put, others a little wild. But I give them a fair hearing and suppose you won't insist upon my adopting them. Am beginning to think I've a good deal to learn, and ought, I suppose, to be well satisfied to learn, in some other school than that of experience. Truly, FRED. LETTER XXVII. From the Architect. FASHION AND ORNAMENT, HARD WOOD AND PAINT. DEAR FRED: The tone of your last, just received, is hopeful. Conviction of ignorance is the only foundation on which Wisdom, or any other man, ever builded a house. But it must be a genuine agony, as I'm sure it is in your case; so you are forgiven for asking more questions in half a dozen lines than I can answer fully in a score of pages. Instead of taking them up separately, I might give you a chapter of first principles, hoping you would then need no special directions; but I find the value of most general observations lies, like Bunsby's, in the application of 'em. It's not enough to say, "Be honest and upright." Each particular falsehood and folly must be summoned, tried, and condemned. You ask for a style of finish that must be ornamental and modern. But I don't understand your meaning; shall need more definite instruction. Is your house intended for ornamental purposes, as summer-houses, dove-cots, bird-cages, and the like, often are? Is it to be a museum, art-gallery, or memorial hall? Diamonds and pearls are commonly thought ornamental to those who can afford them; from pink plaster images and china vases to bronze dragons and Florentine mosaics, there is an endless variety of ornaments for domestic apartments. I've heard of a woman who was an ornament to her husband, and of a man who ornamented a whole town; but when you ask me to furnish you an ornamental style of finishing your house, I'm obliged to ask for particulars. You may have curious carvings in the woodwork about the doors and windows and on the base-boards; paint pictures, or set bright-colored tile, grotesque and classic, on the flat surfaces; cut a row of "scallops and points" around the edge of the casings in imitation of clam-shells, as I have sometimes seen; or you may build over your doors and windows enormous Grecian cornices supported by huge carved consoles,--regular shelves, too high for any earthly use except to remind you, by their vast store of dust, of your mortal origin and destiny. I hold it to be the duty of the amiable architect to carry out the wishes of his employer as far as consistent with his own peace of mind; and if you insist on having a row of brass buttons around all your casings, and setting your own tin-type, life-size, at every corner, I shall acquiesce; but my sober advice is that the interior work be simple and unobtrusive. The most perfect style in dress or manner is that which attracts the least attention; so the essential finish should not, by its elaborate design, challenge notice and thus detract from the furnishing and true ornamentation of the room. Avoid fine, unintelligible mouldings, needless crooks and quirks, and be not afraid of a flat surface terminating in a plain bead or quarter round. Stairways and mantels are not strictly a part of the essential structure, and may be treated more liberally. The doors, too, should be of richer design than the frames in which they are hung; while on the sideboard, bookcase, or other stationary furniture you may, figuratively speaking, spread yourself, always provided you do not make, in the operation, a greater display of ignorance than of sense. Rich woodwork throughout, carved panels upon the walls, inlaid floors, and elaborate ceilings, each separate detail a work of art, intrinsically beautiful apart from its constructive use, would require a corresponding treatment in the setting of the doors and windows; but the most of what is commonly considered ornamental work, in such cases, is wholly incongruous with walls and ceilings of lath and plaster and floors of cheap boards. I know you will paste mouldy paper to the walls and spread dirty carpets on the floors (beg your pardon, I mean the paper will be mouldy before you know it, and if you ever saw a wool carpet that had been used a month without being, like Phoebe's blackberries, "all mixed with sand and dirt," your observation has been different from mine); perhaps "run" stucco cornices around the top of walls, and "criss-cross" the ceilings into a perfect flower-garden of parallelograms with round corners. But the inharmony remains all the same. Any great outlay of labor or material on the casings of doors and windows or the bases, when there is no other woodwork in the room, is surely out of place. These are my sentiments, in general, upon the ornamental; of the merely fashionable you already know my opinion. Not that this most fitful dame has no rights that deserve respect, but her feeble light is a black spot in the radiance of real fine art. When you can give no other reason for liking what you like than that Mistress Fashion approves, beware! beware!--trust her not. The time will come when you will wish even the modest handmaiden Economy had blessed it. And if a thing is really beautiful, what difference whether it was introduced by Mrs. Shoddy last spring, or by Mrs. Noah, before her husband launched his fairy boat? Nor is fine art unattainable, even in the door-casings. It does not imply fine work. The size, shape, and position of the doors and windows, and the relative proportions of the work about them, is the first thing to be studied. Then have a care that such mouldings as may be needed are graceful, and you cannot go far wrong. You propose to finish with "hard" wood, and ask my opinion. It depends: if it's the hardness you want, should recommend lignum-vitae and ebony; if the wood, economy would suggest that white-pine, and certain other softer sorts, be not overlooked. To answer according to the spirit of your inquiry, I should say, by all means (if you do not mind the cost) use wood instead of putty. With all respect for white paint and striped paint and all other kinds of paint, there is nothing more enduringly satisfying than the natural tint and grain of the different kinds of wood suitable for building, of which we have such great variety in style and color, from the overestimated black walnut, to the rarely used white-pine,--rarely used without having its natural beauty extinguished by three coats of paint. What I wish to say is, that finishing your woodwork without paint does not, necessarily, require the said wood to be of the kinds commonly called "hard." Any wood that is not specially disposed to warp, and that can be smoothly wrought, may be used. Those you mention are all good; so are half a dozen more,--the different kinds of ash, yellow-pine, butternut, white-wood, cherry, cedar, even hemlock and spruce in some situations. There are several important points to be religiously observed if you leave the wood, whatever the variety, in its unadorned beauty. It must be the best of its kind; it must be seasoned to its inmost fibre; it must be wrought skilfully, tenderly cared for, and, finally, filled and rubbed till it wears a surface that is not liable to soil, is easily cleaned, resists the action of moisture, and will grow richer with age. Hence, I say, by all means finish with unpainted wood, if you are not afraid of the expense, and yet paint and varnish are good, and putty, like charity, covereth a multitude of sins. Nothing protects wood better than oil and lead, and by means of them you have unlimited choice of colors, in the selection and arrangement of which there is room and need for genuine artistic taste. Yes; good honest paint is worthy the utmost respect. When it tries to improve upon nature's divine methods and calls itself "graining," it becomes unmitigated nonsense,--yes, and worse. It is one of the sure evidences of man's innate perversity that he persists in trying to copy certain beautiful lines and shadings in wood, not as an art study, but for actual use, when he may just as well have the perfect original as his own faulty imitation. What conceit, what blindness, what impudence, this reveals! What downright falsehood! Not in the painter,--O, no, skill is commendable even when unworthily employed,--but in him who orders it. You may buy a pine door, which is very well; pine doors are good; you tell every man that comes into your house it's black-walnut or oak or mahogany. If that isn't greeting him with lying lips and a deceitful heart, the moral law isn't as clear as it ought to be. You may think it's of no consequence, certainly not worth making a fuss about, but I tell you this spirit of sham that pervades our whole social structure, that more and more obtrudes itself in every department of life, comes from the bottomless pit, and will carry us all thither, unless we resist it, even in these milder manifestations, as we would resist the Father of Lies himself. Truth and falsehood are getting so hopelessly confused that we can scarcely distinguish one from the other. One other suggestion in this connection. Without either painting or graining you may get a most satisfactory effect, both in looks and utility, by staining the less costly kinds of woods; using a transparent stain that will not conceal but strengthen the natural shading, and at the same time change its tint according to your fancy. This is an honest and economical expedient. It only requires that your lumber shall be sound, tolerably clear,--a good hard knot isn't alarming,--seasoned, and put up with care. The cost is less than common painting, and the effect as much better than graining as nature's work is more perfect than ours. Don't ask me any more questions till I've disposed of these already on hand. LETTER XXVIII. From Fred. THOUGHT PROVOKES INQUIRY. MY DEAR ARCHITECT: In spite of your prohibition, I must pursue one or two of the inquiries already raised, in order to understand the answers given. What is the objection to cheap floors, if they are always covered with carpets? Am I to understand that you do not approve of lath and plaster for walls and ceilings of first-class dwellings? If so, what would you substitute? It seems much easier to say what to avoid than what to accept; but that, I believe, is the privilege of critics and reformers. Why do you despise the modern fashions so heartily? Are the old any better? Yours, FRED. LETTER XXIX. From the Architect. CONSISTENCY, COMFORT, AND CARPETS. MY DEAR FRED: I don't despise the new fashions. I admire them--when they are good. Will you please try to understand that a thing of beauty is a joy _forever_? Whatever is born of truth, whether in art or religion, belongs to eternity; it never goes out of fashion. Will you also remember that modern styles, modes, fashions, inventions,--call them what you will,--are the mere average product of human thought and labor during a few years; the old that abides is drawn from the superlatively good of former countless generations, culled over and over again till that alone remains which has stood the test of your critics and reformers all along down from Adam, or up from the last monkey who wept to find his first-born without a tail and morally accountable. Certainly it is easier to say what to avoid than what to accept, for there's more of it. Broad is the road of error, and the faults and follies, vices and sins, that wrangle and riot therein, are thicker than crickets on a sandy road in October,--thicker and blacker. You may catch them all day and there'll be just as many left. But the devoted followers of truth you may count on your fingers and carry them home in your bosom. Besides, the right thing to do cannot be told in detail for another, since every man must manifest his own individuality as he must work out his own salvation. In the millennium I expect we shall find no two houses built or furnished alike. No; you are not to understand that lath and plaster are unfit for first-class dwellings, but there is no sense in trimming a gingham suit with point lace. A general uniformity of value in the material of which your castle is built is as essential as uniformity of style. Yes; there is an objection to cheap floors, carpets or not; and now I've gone through your last lot of interrogation-points backward, which brings me where I left off in the former letter. You propose to carpet the floors and ask to have them made to fit the carpets. Would you also like the walls to fit the paper-hangings, and the windows the curtains? Do you know what kind of carpets you will use in each room; just how long and how wide they will be to half an inch; the width of the borders; how much they will stretch in putting down; how much "take up" in the making (you see I can use interrogation-points)? Do you really know anything about them with certainty? I ask for information, as the same request is often made as to building the house to fit the carpets, and any attempt to comply with it seems to me a great waste of mathematics. Concerning, the floors themselves,--leaving the yardstick out of the question,--even if they are covered by carpets six inches thick, it will not pay to lay poor ones. They should be double for solidity and warmth, well nailed for stiffness, seasoned for economy, and of good lumber for conscience' sake. Seasoned for economy, I say, since nothing is more destructive to carpets, especially to oil-cloth, than cracks in the floor underneath them. Yes,--one thing; the warped edges of the boards, that sometimes raise themselves,--that are almost sure to do so in spruce, which is never fit for floors, though often used. It's my conviction that spruce floor-boards, two inches thick and one and a half wide, would contrive to curl up at the edges. If you have good floors, furthermore, you will not feel obliged to cover them at all times and at all hazards. I remarked that the houses built when the good time coming comes will not be all alike. I can tell you another thing about them, though you may not believe it; there will be no wool carpets on the floors,--no, nor rag ones either. The people will walk upon planks of fir and boards of cedar, sycamore from the plains and algum-trees, gopher wood and Georgia pine, inlaid in forms of wondrous grace. There will be no moth or _dust_ to corrupt and strangle, neither creaks nor cracks to annoy. It's a question among theologians whether the millennium will come "all at once and all o'er," or gradually. I think the millennial floors must be introduced gradually,--say around the edges,--for I do not suppose you or any one else in New England will give up the warm-feeling carpets altogether. And yet one who has seen a carpet of any sort taken and well shaken, after a six months' service, will hardly expect added health or comfort from its ministration. If your observation of this semiannual performance isn't sufficient, and you are curious to know how much noisome dirt and dust, how much woolly fibre and microscopic animal life, you respire,--how these poisonous particles fill your lungs with tubercles, your head with catarrh, and prepare your whole body for an untimely grave,--you can study medical books at your leisure. They will all tell the same story, and will justify my supposition that you will cover the floors with _dirty_ carpets. Doubtless they will be shaken and "whipped" (they deserve it) two or three times a year, and swept, maybe, every day. The shaking is very well, but though it seems neater to sweep them, yet for actual cleanliness of the whole room, carpet and all, I suppose it would be better at the end of six months if they were swept--not once! For whatever can be removed from a carpet by ordinary sweeping is comparatively clean and harmless,--that which sinks out of sight and remains is unclean and poisonous. [Illustration: DUST TO DUST.] There are two ways of lessening the evil without exterminating the cause. One is to shut the room, never using or opening it, except for the spring and fall cleaning; the other is to lay the carpet in such way that it may be taken up and relaid without demoralizing the entire household. Talk about the carpets fitting the rooms; there should be a margin of two feet--a few inches, more or less, is unimportant--at each side. Then if you have a handsome floor, the carpet becomes a large rug--no matter how elegant--that may be removed, cleansed, and put back again every morning if you like. You may fancy a border of wood either plain or ornamental, the surface of which shall be level with the top of the carpet. This is easily made, either by using thicker boards around the edges or by laying wood carpeting over the regular floor. One caution concerning fancy floors; don't make them too fanciful. We don't like to feel that we're treading under foot a rare work of art, and I've seen certain zigzag patterns which merely to look at fairly makes one stagger. Thresholds are on the floor, but not of them, nor of anything else, for that matter, and though somewhat useful in poetry, are often provoking stumbling-blocks in practice. Necessary at times, doubtless, but we have far too many and too much of them. Even where rooms are carpeted differently they are not needed. If you must have them, let them lie low and keep dark. [Illustration: WOOL AND WOOD.] If you paint or paper the walls, as you will if they are plastered, keep this in mind: the trowel finishes them as far as use is concerned. Whatever is added is purely in the nature of ornament, and must be tried by the laws of decoration. If you enjoy seeing "a parrot, a poppy, and a shepherdess," bunches of blue roses, and impossible landscapes, spotted, at regular intervals, over the inner walls of the rooms, you will choose some large-figured paper. Perhaps, if the pattern is sufficiently distinct and gorgeous, you will think you need no other pictures; and the pictures themselves will be glad to be left out if they have any self-respect. I'm sure you don't enjoy any such thing. Some of the fancy paper-hangings are artistic and beautiful in design; for that very reason they ought not to be repeated. I would as soon hang up a few dozens of religious-newspaper prize-chromos. The general effect is the point to be considered. Why not have both? Because you can't. When you have a picture so pretty and complete as to attract your attention and fix itself in your memory, the general effect is lost if you discover the same thing staring at you whichever way you turn. 'T is the easiest thing in the world to have too much of a good thing. Sometimes the better the thing the worse the repetition. This general effect which we must have is well secured by a small, inconspicuous figure, or by those vine-like patterns, so delicate and wandering that you don't attempt to follow them. Better than either are the plain tints, which give you, in fact, all you require; a modification of the cold white wall, and the most effective background for pictures and other furnishing. As much ornament as you please in the border at the top, and at the bottom, too, if the rooms are high enough. All horizontal lines and subdivisions reduce the apparent height of the room. Indeed, you may use trimming without limit, either of paper or paint, wood and gilt moldings, provided they are well used. Color, after all, is the main thing. If there is any good reason for putting this upon paper and then sticking the paper to the wall, I've not learned it. It is cheaper, cleaner, and better to apply it directly to the plastering, either in oil or water-colors. Oil is the best; water the cheapest. In any case, the best quality of plastering is none too good. For the papering it may be left smooth, but for painting, especially with distemper, the rough coarse-grained surface is very much the best. The chief objection to stucco arises from its being a cheap material, easily wrought. It is so often introduced as if quantity would compensate for quality,--a common error in other things than stucco. Though often desirable and appropriate, as a general rule the more the worse. No amount of gilding will give it anything but a frail, often tawdry appearance, that does not improve, but deteriorates, with age. [Illustration: WOODWORK ON PLASTERED WALLS] Wainscoting is always in order; it is a question of harmony, when and where to use it. What you have in mind is really an extended and ornamented base. Of course, it enriches the room, but it begins a work to which there is no limit. It should be supplemented by a corresponding wood cornice at the top of the room, and between the two as much decorative woodwork as you can afford; until "the walls of the house within, the floor of the house, and the walls of the ceilings" are carved with "cherubims and palm-trees and open flowers." A costly wainscot at the base of the walls, with paper and stucco above, seems to me a great lack of harmony. I would spread my richness more evenly. In using different kinds of wood, the raised portions, being more exposed, may be of hard varieties, the sunken portions of softer materials, even lath and plaster, which may be frescoed, covered with some rich colored plain paper, or hung with violet velvet, according to your taste and means. The old-fashioned chair-rail seems to me a sensible institution It occupies the debatable ground between use and beauty, and may therefore be somewhat enriched. The plastering beneath it may be given a different tint from that above, and when the walls are high its effect is good. It is really carrying out the idea of panelling, to which there is hardly a limit in the way of variety. Some of your questions have led me a little way from the building toward the furnishing, but I've tried to dispose of them categorically, and am now ready for another lot. LETTER XXX. From Miss Jane. AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND ARCHITECTURE, POTATOES AND POSTSCRIPTS. MR. ARCHITECT: Dear Sir,--After so long an indirect acquaintance through our mutual friends, it is quite time we were formally introduced. Allow me to present myself: Sister Jane, spinster; native of New England, born to idleness, bred to school-teaching; age not reported, temperament hopeful, abilities average; possessor of a moderate competence, partly acquired, mainly inherited; greatly overestimated by a friendly few, somewhat abused as peculiar (in American idiom "funny") by strangers; especially interested in the building of homes, and quite willing to help Mr. Fred carry out his ambitions in that direction by any suggestions I am able to make. [Illustration: "SISTER JANE, SPINSTER."] I've taught school, and I've taught music; sold goods in a store and worked in a factory; run a sewing-machine, travelled with subscription-books, and hired out to do house-work; and I solemnly aver that the only time I was conscious of genuine enthusiasm for my work, or felt that I was doing myself or others any actual good, was while keeping house. In school I was required to teach things I knew little and cared less about, and to punish the dear children for doing precisely what I would have done myself had I been in their places, losing all the while in amiability more than was gained in mental discipline. My experience in a factory was limited to three months. From working with the machines and as they worked, hardly using more intelligent volition than they, I began to fancy myself becoming like them, with no more rights to be respected, no more moral responsibility, and left without even serving my notice. Clerking I tried "just for fun." If all people who came to trade were like some, it would be the pleasantest, easiest work imaginable; if all were like others, the veriest torment. It was an excellent place to study human nature, but made me somewhat cynical. My sewing-machine had fits and gave me a back-ache, so I've locked it up until some one invents a motive-power that can be applied to house-work, washing, churning, mincing meat and vegetables, driving sewing-machines, and--if it only could--kneading bread, sweeping floors, washing dishes, ironing clothes, and making beds. My book agency was undertaken for the sake of travel,--of learning something, not only of the land we live in, but of its people and homes. If I had gone from house to house and with malice aforethought begged an outright gift of a sum equal to my commission on each book, I should have felt more self-approval than in asking people to buy what I had not the slightest reason to suppose they wanted. Now I'm sure you are beginning to think me one of the disagreeably strong-minded, who think the whole world has gone astray when it's only themselves who are out of tune, but, truly, I'm not; only I don't like to be or to feel idle and useless, nor yet to be constantly striving to do from a sense of duty what is positively distasteful. Like many other important discoveries, my aptness for house-work was found out by accident. Our next neighbor happened to be thrown, without a word of warning, into one of those dreadful whirlpools in regard to help, to which even the best regulated households are liable. My services, charitably volunteered as temporary relief, were gladly accepted, and the result on my part was two years of pleasant and profitable labor. All I earned was clear profit, and I had the satisfaction of knowing I saved the family many times over what was paid me. I'm converted beyond the possibility of backsliding to this truth: that there is no work so fit and pleasant, so profitable and improving, to the mass of womankind,--rich or poor, wise or unlearned, strong or weak,--yes, proud or meek,--as the care and control of a home; none so worthy of thorough study, none so full of opportunity for exercising all the better bodily and mental powers, from mere mechanical and muscular skill, up through philosophy and science, mathematics and invention, to poetry and fine art. From potato-washing to architectural design the distance is great, yet there are possible steps, and easy ones too, leading from one to the other. I began with the potatoes and know all their tricks and their manners. The accompanying sketch is the nearest approach to architecture yet attained. A long way off, you will say; but I insist it is worthier of recognition than the plans of amateurs who begin with the parlor and leave the kitchen out in the cold. It is not for Mr. Fred; he must work out his own kitchen. If Mrs. Fred can't help him, more's the pity. I give my notions of general principles; the application of them I leave to you. My kitchen is not merely a cook-room, nor yet the assembly and business room of the entire household, as in the olden time. It is the housekeeper's head-quarters, the mill to which all domestic grists are brought to be ground,--ground but not consumed. I should never learn to be heartily grateful for my daily bread if it must always be eaten with the baking-pans at my elbow. Indeed, we seldom enjoy to the utmost any good thing if the process of its manufacture has been carried on before our eyes. Hence the dining-room is a necessity, but it must be near at hand. If the kitchen cannot go to it, it must come to the kitchen. If this goes to the basement, or to the attic, that must follow, but always with impassable barriers between, protecting each one of our five senses. The confusion usually attending the dinner-hour should be out of sight; the hissing of buttered pans and the sound of rattling dishes we do not wish to hear; our sharpened appetites must not be dulled by spicy aromas that seem to settle on our tongues; we do not like, in summer weather, to be broiled in the same heat that roasts our beef; while, as for scents, wrath is cruel and anger is outrageous, but who is able to stand the smell of boiling cabbage? Yes; the kitchen must be separated from the dining-room, and the more perfect its appointments, the easier is this separation. The library and the sitting-room are completely divided by a mere curtain, because each is quiet and well disposed, not inclined to assert its own rights or invade those of others; but the ordinary kitchen, like ill-bred people, is constantly doing both. Thomas Beecher proposes to locate his at the top of the church steeple. That is unnecessary; we have only to elevate it morally and intellectually, make it orderly, scientific, philosophical, and the front parlor itself cannot ask a more amiable and interesting neighbor. As the chief workshop of the house, the kitchen should be fitted up and furnished precisely as an intelligent manufacturer would fit up his factory. Every possible convenience for doing what must be done; a machine for each kind of work and a place for every machine. Provision for the removal and utilizing of all waste, for economizing to the utmost all labor and material. Then if our housekeepers will go to school in earnest,--will learn their most complicated and responsible profession half as thoroughly as a mechanic learns a single and comparatively simple trade,--we shall have a domestic reformation that will bring back something of the Eden we have lost. Respectfully yours, SISTER JANE. * * * * * P.S.--Surreptitiously enclosed by Mrs. John. DEAR MR. ARCHITECT: Jane has just read her letter to you aloud for John's and my benefit. John listened to the end without moving a muscle. When she wound up with the garden of Eden, he got up, took off his hat (he will keep it on in the house), made a fearfully low bow and said, "Perfectly magnificent, Jane! I begin to feel like old Adam, already." Then he burst out laughing and took himself out of the room, leaving the door wide open, of course, and kicking up the corner of the door-mat. You see he's one of those men who think home isn't home-like unless it's sort of free and easy. He'd be perfectly willing to eat and sleep and live in the kitchen,--if I had the work to do; and though he likes pretty things, and would feel dreadfully if I didn't look about so, has a perfect horror of smart housekeepers, and thinks women who care for nothing else the most disagreeable people in the world. The trouble with Jane's letter is that she doesn't go into particulars enough, and that's why I want to add a postscript. I wish I could describe the kitchen in the house where she has been living. The people had so much confidence in her judgment, that they just allowed her to fix things as she chose, and it's really quite a study. It mightn't suit anybody else, but it shows what may be done. She began by taking one of the pleasantest rooms in the house, although 'twas in the basement, and had windows cut to bring them on the south and east sides. Then she had an outside door at the south with a wide piazza over it, which made the room actually just so much larger. Across one side of the room is a wide stationary table,--I suppose men would call it a work-bench,--with a fall-leaf, in front of one of the windows, especially for an ironing-table. Of course it can be used for anything else. One part of it is about eight inches lower than the common height, where ever so many kinds of table-work can be done sitting. Underneath the higher part are drawers and places for all the things that are useful about the laundry-work. Her sink is in the midst of a perfect cabinet of conveniences. There's a hook or a shelf for every identical rag, stick, dish, or spoon that can be used or thought of; shelves at each side, and drawers that never by any possibility will hold what doesn't belong in them. One thing she won't have; and that's a cupboard under the sink for pots and kettles. She says it's impossible to keep such a place clean and sweet. Things are shoved into it sooty and steaming to get them out of the way, and it soon gets damp and crocky beyond all hope of purification. Hot and cold water run to the boilers and kettles, and there's a funny contrivance for sprinkling clothes. The washing almost does itself. The tubs are of soapstone, at the opposite side of the room from the ironing-table. Over the entire stove--she might have had a range, but didn't want one--there's a sort of movable cover with a flue running into the chimney that carries off every breath of steam and smoke from the cooking. One would never guess at the dinner by any stray odors. It is made of tin; the kettles boil quicker under it, and it makes the room a great deal cooler in summer by carrying the extra heat off up the chimney. She has a place for the bread to rise, and a cupboard close by for all the ironmongery belonging to the stove, zinc-cloth and blacking-brush included. [Illustration: SISTER JANE'S KITCHEN.] Her pantry I won't undertake to describe. It adjoins both dining-room and kitchen. John says she never does anything in getting dinner but just sit down in an easy-chair and turn a crank. That's one of John's stories, but she certainly will prepare a meal the quickest and with the fewest steps of any person I ever knew. The funniest thing about it is, that I've known eight people at work in the room all at once without being in each other's way one bit. But that's no closer than men work in their shops. Jane intends to stay with us this winter, and I expect we shall have jolly times, for we're going to board the schoolmaster. If he calls to see you, as I think he will, I want you should read Jane's letter to him. She would take my head off if she knew I mentioned it, but I think he ought to know what's before him. Respectfully, MRS. JOHN. P.S. No. 2.--Unnecessarily appended by John. MY DEAR ARCHITECT: If we've got to go through the whole establishment on transcendental principles, I shall send in my resignation straight. Sister Jane's a regular trump; Penelope and queen of Sheba rolled into one. But when the women-folks begin to preach, I always find it best to keep still and consider my sins. I haven't had a chance to say much lately, but I've kept up a tremendous thinking, and when I do get the floor look out for me. How do you happen to know so much about the millennium? Yours patiently, JOHN. LETTER XXXI. From the Architect. DOMESTIC-SERVICE REFORM. Dear Miss Jane: Your very kind letter was received and gratefully appreciated. As the world grows less ignorant and wicked, we should naturally expect missionaries and reformers to find their occupation going, if not quite gone; that modern reforms would be mere play compared with the stern and mighty movements that in former times have blessed mankind and balked the Evil One. But somehow the need for missionary work seems greater every year. We are not even permitted to go to the heathen. They come to us without waiting for an invitation; if not as pupils in the lessons of civilization, they come as teachers. Sometimes they are aliens, sometimes our own kith and kin. To keep what we have won and gain the next height requires new zeal, and ever greater efforts,--requires the very work you are doing; for a well-ordered home, though it consist of but two members, is a tremendous missionary society. The light streaming from its windows is an ever-burning beacon of safety to our most cherished social institutions. First and chiefly, this essential home work needs to be taken from the hands of indifferent, careless servants and confided to those who realize the nobleness of the responsibility, and will strive to meet it faithfully. Ultimately, the ignorant, careless ones must be taught, but that will never be till culture is a manifest necessity and finds a fit reward. When a man undertakes the charge of a new business, he learns, not only its general principles, but as far as possible, its minutest details, otherwise he fails inevitably, and the place is given to his well-qualified competitor. If our prospective housekeepers were amenable to similar rules, the competent mistresses of this most useful art would find plenty of apprentices glad to serve them long and well for their tuition, and if those who have now the care of households will patiently instruct their help, they will find abundant recompense in a more faithful and efficient service. Doubtless we must wait a little longer for our lost Eden to be restored by the angels of the household; but, in the hastening of that good time, such examples, permit me to say, as your own will be worth far more than any multiplying of conveniences and labor-saving machines for the benefit of those who do not know or care to learn how to use them,--examples of the nobleness, the gentility if you please, of all useful labor. Until that everlasting truth is understood and applied, there will be more need of your teaching than of my plans. If you will teach your neighbors what a fully equipped home building should contain, I will try to show them how their wants can be supplied. Teach them, at the same time, what it need not contain. As certain folks do not understand how heaven can be enjoyable without a Tartarean attachment to which all disagreeable people and performances are consigned, so a common notion of home, that earthly epitome of heaven, appears to be that it should also contain an abridgment of the same direful institution; that there must be somewhere in the house a place of torment, the angels who abide therein, giving us our daily bread and doughnuts, being of a totally different type from the glorious creatures singing songs of praise and operatic melodies in the upper stories. That the genius of the kitchen and the parlor can be one and the same is a conception too stupendous for the average understanding. This, too, I hope you will insist upon. Every man who would build himself a house shall first sit down and--not count the cost, that comes into my department, but--ask himself solemnly what the house is for. To live in, of course. But living is a complex affair; it is constant growth or gradual death; there can be no standing still. Is the house to be an end, or a means; a help to make the life-work larger and better, or an added burden? Shall it lift, or crush him? When this solemn questioning is honestly done, we shall have a new order of domestic architecture. It may not be classic, neither Grecian nor Roman, Gothic nor French, but the best of all that has gone before and the last best thing thrown in. We shall have more cheap houses, more small ones, I think; more comfort and less show, more content and fewer mortgages. LETTER XXXII. From Fred. GO TO; LET US BUILD A TOWER. MY DEAR ARCHITECT: I've been hearing a variety of suggestions from Miss Jane, the substance of which she has already forwarded you in a letter. Her ideas are excellent. They ought to be adopted in every household. I wish to have them carried out as far as possible in mine, when the time comes. She favors a basement kitchen, which I had always thought objectionable. If adopted it would change my arrangement considerably. What do you think of it? How high shall I have the different stories, and will you give me some hints for exterior? I intended to have a tower or a cupola, but after so much change I hardly know where I am coming out. There is something very imposing about a tower, and a cupola seems to finish the house handsomely, besides affording fine views. I feel decidedly partial to French roofs, but have seen some very awkward ones that I should be sorry to imitate. They give excellent chambers and have a modern look. The latter point I suppose you will not think important. Truly, FRED. LETTER XXXIII. From the Architect. BASEMENTS AND BALCONIES. Dear Fred: Of course Miss Jane's ideas are good. When a woman honestly tries to understand her work and do it well, she is sure to succeed, especially in this matter of the equipments of home. The basement arrangement depends mainly on the location. When this is favorable it is undoubtedly economical, nor is it necessarily inconvenient or unpleasant in any way, but quite the reverse. You are fortunate if your site will allow it, for it adds enormously to the capacity of the establishment. At least two sides of this lower story, "basement" you call it, should be above ground to insure dryness and plenty of light. Then all the heavier work of the house, including the eating and drinking, can be done on this floor, leaving the upper stories intact for loftier purposes. The old-fashioned cellar as a storehouse for a half-year's stock of provisions--bins, and barrels by the dozen, of potatoes, apples and cider, corned beef, pork, vegetables, vinegar, and apple-sauce--is extinct. Hence the space once thus occupied is almost a clear gain if made into finished apartments,--an economy that will commonly allow a family room on the next floor, whereby the going up and down stairs is no more serious than if both are one story higher. The sketch is an illustration of what the basement adds. The capacity of the little house is more than doubled by it, while in point of style the augmentation is even greater than in room. [Illustration: WHAT THE BASEMENT ADDS.] As to height of stories, you are quite as liable to make them too high as too low. For rooms within the common limits of size, ten to eleven feet in the clear is enough. Even nine is by no means dangerous. If too high for their area, they seem like large closets, giving a feeling of being walled in, hardly less unpleasant than the low-hanging ceilings of the last century. I know the argument of better ventilation. But that depends. The old, seven-foot rooms, with their huge fireplaces, big enough to hold a load of wood, ox-team and all, undoubtedly held purer air than is found in the hermetically sealed apartments of the present time, whose ceilings are out of sight. As you say, a tower is often very imposing. It is not always certain who feels the imposition most heavily, the man who pays for it or the man who looks at it. They are not only imposing, but they contain six or seven stories, one above another, of eight-foot square rooms, deducting a Jacob's-ladder stairway at one side, whereon people climb to the topmost room for the sake of looking out in the wrong direction through a round dormer-window, scratching their heads in the mean time on the nails that come through the roof! Cupolas too are lovely,--especially on a barn,--and top off a house in the daintiest fashion possible; just as, to set forth great things by small, the "knob" on the sugar-bowl cover finishes the sugar-bowl. Many houses do appear unfinished without a cupola, and I'm sorry for them, because when the cupola is built it looks so much like the handle on a big cover that I half expect some giant to come along and lift it off to take a peep at the curious animals underneath. For, truly, they are curious animals, and build some curious nests. I like, as well as you, to get up above my neighbors now and then, and look down upon them. I never see a tall chimney or church spire without wishing there was a spiral staircase around the outside of it, from which to view the landscape o'er. In fact, to be candid, if I had happened to live a few thousand years ago, I am afraid I should have taken stock in the Babel enterprise, not really expecting to leave this terrestrial ball in that way, but just to see how high we could go. The audacious tower of the Centennial I shall certainly patronize. But on domestic buildings, unless for better adaptation to the site, or for some special use, there are other things more to be desired than these lofty appendages. An open balcony, hanging from the highest point of the main roof, just below the scuttle, or the flat, if there is one, on the top of the whole, surrounded by a protecting balustrade, affords a better place for observation and costs less than those laborious affairs whose use and beauty often neutralize each other. [Illustration: OUTLOOK FROM THE ROOF.] How dare you think anything claiming to be a French roof ugly to look at? People who are fond of that style admire them from a sense of duty, because they are French roofs. Perhaps if I was a Frenchman I should like French roofs, too; being an American, I like American roofs better. You do, however, give one reason for your preference,--the complete chambers,--which is merely another way of saying you like three stories better than two,--a good argument, by the way, for the basement, which is surely more convenient than an attic. I enclose a sketch, intimating an outline and style that will suit your location. The roof, which is not French, either in form or _costliness_, will contain all the dormitories and store-rooms you can use, unless you propose keeping a three-story boarding-house. LETTER XXXIV. From the Schoolmaster. FOUR ROOMS ENOUGH. MR. ARCHITECT: Dear Sir,--Once, in conversation with you, I made some inquiries as to the feasibility of building houses, especially of brick, with reference to future enlargement. My present ambition is bounded by a house of four rooms. One in which all the household work shall be done, including the eating. It shall contain the cooking-stove, the dining-table, laundry conveniences, etc., and may be called kitchen, dining-room, laboratory, or simply work-room. An apartment to be used solely on account of its facilities for doing house-work. It should be of good size, and a pleasant outlook is desirable, but not necessary. A second room for ordinary and extraordinary use; to sit in, to talk in, to read and write and visit in; the books are kept in it, and the sewing-machine, the piano and the flower-stand, the birdcage and the pictures; a large, pleasant room, where the sunlight loves to shine in upon us and we love to look out upon the sunshine. It is parlor, library, drawing-room, living room; in fact, it is the house itself, to which everything else is accessory. A family sleeping-room, sunny, simple, and airy, and a guest-room of similar character, complete the establishment. More than these four principal rooms would be a burden, less would hardly suffice for comfortable living. The problem is to arrange a plan that shall be convenient and complete before it begins to grow, and to which future additions may be made without serious loss. I also want counsel concerning ventilation, both on general principles and with reference to the unfortunate box in which I am daily compelled to breathe my own breath over and over, variously flavored with the commingled exhalations of sixty pupils, with whom I grow cross, restless, or stupid, according to the state of the school-room atmosphere. I believe it is just as wicked to allow children to breathe impure air in their school-rooms or their bedrooms as it would be to put poison in their dinner-pails and require them to swallow it. My friend, Mrs. John, takes a kindly interest in my quadruple plan, and assures me it will be quite sufficient for a sensible housekeeper. Do you suppose such a one can be found? If convenient, I will call upon you in a few days. Truly yours, SCHOOLMASTER. LETTER XXXV. From Mrs. John. CONVENIENCES AND CONJECTURES. Dear Mr. Architect: The building-fever seems to be contagious in our neighborhood. The teacher who boards with us is the latest subject. He pretends it's all for fun, but has been studying plans for weeks, and now, after getting the advice of the entire household, is going to throw it all away and apply to you, as he should have done in the first place. I overheard him explaining to Jane how the cooking-stove is to be in a sort of recess by the chimney, with tin-lined doors to shut it out of sight; the wash-boiler at the opposite side, enclosed in the same way, and having a contrivance overhead to carry off the steam; how there are to be cupboards at each side of the wide window, making it a sort of bay, with a wood-box window-seat; how the sink is to be converted into an elegant sideboard by an ornamental cover, and everything else in the room contrived so it can be shut up or folded up out of sight when not in use. Of course Jane assists, and the combined wisdom of the two is something appalling to ordinary mortals. I should certainly think the affair was getting serious if anything of the kind ever did turn out as other folks think it ought. They are wonderfully harmonious now, but I don't believe Jane will ever be satisfied without a separate dining-room. [Illustration: THE OLD, OLD STORY.] John wishes me to ask what he shall do about warming his house. Says he has not decided whether to have fireplaces or stoves, grates or a hot-air furnace, steam, hot water, solar heat, or depend on a scolding wife to keep things warm. Yours truly, MRS. JOHN. LETTER XXXVI. From the Architect. THE LESSON OF THE ICE-HOUSE. MRS. JOHN: Dear Madam,--Without doubt the affair is getting serious, but do not give yourself any uneasiness as to the issue. The Divinity that shapes our matrimonial ends is, happily, a wiser power than that which designs our houses, however it may appear to outsiders. Your friend talks like a gentleman and a scholar. I admonished him discreetly, promised to study his interesting problem and give him a chapter on ventilation; which, by the way, is so intimately connected with warming, that I may be obliged to make a sort of company letter in answering your husband's inquiry on that subject. Tell him, in brief, to use fireplaces if he has a hundred acres of wood-land to clear up; stoves, if he can live without air; grates, if he doesn't mind the trouble and the ashes; furnace, if he can set it directly under each room and can find one that won't strangle him some windy night with poison gases; and steam or hot water, if he can run a machine-shop and keep a competent engineer. Solar heat may be more available than he thinks, but his doubt as to the last-named mode proves that he has no experimental knowledge of it. Neither have I. Tell him also to protect his family as carefully as he protects his ice, and the house-warming will be a simple matter. The conditions are identical, only turned inside out. In one case the heat is to be kept from penetrating, in the other from escaping, and both require the same treatment; not, perhaps, to the extent of stuffing with sawdust,--confined air is just as good,--but the walls and the floors, the roofs and the windows, should be made to prevent the escape of heat. He may think I underrate his scientific attainments, but it will do no harm to remind him that an air-tight house may be a very cold one. A man would freeze to death in a glass bottle, when a coarse, porous blanket would keep him comfortable. Double windows are not to keep cold air out, but to keep the heat in. India-rubber weather-strips have, doubtless, caused ten times as many influenzas as they have prevented. More heat will radiate through a window of single glass than would be carried out by the air through a crack, half an inch wide, at the side of it. These suggestions are "just to set him a thinking." LETTER XXXVII. From John. SHINGLES, SUNSHINE, AND FRESH AIR. MY DEAR ARCHITECT: When I stepped into the background, I didn't propose to be left entirely out in the cold. I've followed Fred through the most of his gropings after grandeur, and listened patiently to one of Jane's dignified essays on the sublimity of housekeeping; but when my wife begins romancing, and the schoolmaster is allowed to run wild, as though his moonshine was brighter than that of other folks, I think it's time to call the meeting to order. While you have been gossiping I have been at work, and now our house is almost done,--that is to say, it's well begun. The stone walls of the first story are finished, the frame is raised and covered. I've done one thing without asking anybody's advice; covered the roof with the best cedar shingles I could find. I hired an honest man to lay them, who would throw out all that were dubious and lay the cross-grained ones right side up, and painted the tin valleys both sides before the shingles were laid. Then I took the difference in cost between this and a good slate roof and put it in the savings-bank. At the end of twenty years, if my roof lasts as long, my deposit will put on the best kind of a slate roof and leave three hundred dollars to go to the Society for the Promotion of Fine Art in General and Rural Architecture in Particular. I know the shingled roof may burn me up, if the chimney should happen to take fire some windy night, but 't won't cost so much for repairs as slate if they should blow over, either all at once, or one brick at a time. My neighbors may not like the looks, especially while it's new; but if we have nothing uglier than a mellow gray-shingled roof, I don't think anybody'll be hurt. I wish we had something like the tile roofs I've seen in foreign pictures. They'd go first-rate with my stone walls. The eave-spouts bother me. I don't need to save the water from the roof, and have concluded to let it pour where it pleases. The porches protect the doorsteps, and I think it will be easier to take care of it after it falls than to hang gutters all around emptying at the corners and angles. They are troublesome things anyway. The leaves clog them, the ice dams them, the snow comes down in an avalanche and smashes them, they fall to leaking and spoil the cornice, and after they are all done there's no certainty that the water won't run the wrong way. I can put them up afterwards if necessary, but don't believe it will be. The last counsel you gave me was to open the eyes of my house for the daylight to shine through without let or hindrance. I'm beyond advice on that subject. Carpets and curtains shall fade rather than wife and babies. My windows yawn like barn-doors. There isn't a room in the house that won't have the sun a part of the day, and he looks into the sitting-room from the moment his cloudy bedclothes are thrown off in the morning, till he hides his face behind Mount Tom at night. My glass bill will count up, but I'd rather pay for glass in windows than for iron in the shape of tonics. Now, if you will settle the question of warming and ventilating you shall be honorably discharged. Don't try to show off your science by telling me how carbon, the wicked, poison stuff, is heavy, and we must leave a hole near the floor where it can run out and be coaxed up to the ridgepole after it gets cold, and then make pictures covered with arrow-heads to show how well-educated air ought to go! Talk as many gases as you please to other folks. I know two or three things for certain. Coal costs ten dollars a ton; that's one. I want just as large a house in winter as in summer; that's another. I mean the whole house must be comfortable, in shape to use when needed. I know a man will be cut off suddenly by his own breath if he has nothing else for his lungs. Mixing fresh air with it will prolong his career more or less, but it's only a question of time when he shall give up the ghost if he attempts to subsist on anything less simple and pure in the way of respiration than the out-door atmosphere. That's bad enough in some places. What I don't know and want you to tell me, is how to keep cool in summer, warm in winter, and at the same time have all the fresh air we can possibly consume. I know how to keep warm: build a tight room, keep it shut up, set a box stove in the middle of it, and blaze away. A ton of anthracite or a cord of hickory will keep you warm all winter, especially if you die before spring, as you probably will. I know how to have fresh air too: open the windows and let it blow; but unless a man lives down in a coalmine he can't well afford to keep warm under such circumstances. I believe this question is the chief concern of builders here below, and whoever invents an economical solution of it will not only make a fortune, but he'll deserve one. Why don't you go for it? Yours, JOHN LETTER XXXVIII. From the Architect. WHEN THE DOCTORS DIFFER. DEAR JOHN: Your economical reasons for using shingles would justify cheap jewelry and rag carpets. Try to be consistent. I should object to slate on a log-barn or shingles on a stone-house. I hope you furnished your honest carpenter with a stout jack-knife, and required him not only to lay the shingles right side up, but to lay the upper ends close together, leaving them apart at the butt. Gutters are troublesome truly, but often indispensable; there is no resource but to have them thoroughly made. Poor ones are worse than none. Those that hang independently of the cornice are safest for cheaper buildings, but should be treated as an essential feature; that is, you should not complete the cornice without a gutter and afterwards disfigure it by a sloping spout having no apparent kinship to the rest of the finish. The problem of warming and ventilating is easily solved for those who desire its solution sufficiently to make the necessary appropriations. One quarter of what is commonly spent for vanity and deceit will be ample. Most men and women, at least the unthinking, prefer fashionable show rather than health! A fearful statement, but sadly true. There is doubtless more danger from impure air than from cold. Our senses warn us quickly of the latter; the prompting of knowledge is needed to guard us against the former,--of a practical knowledge unfortunately rare. Men, women, and children are dying daily through ignorance and indifference on this subject. There is hardly a school-house to be found in which the murder of the innocents is not continually rehearsed, hardly a church in which the spiritual elevation resulting from attendance therein is not counterbalanced by an equal physical depression, and rarely a hall or lecture-room wherein an audience can even listen to a physiological discourse on the fatal effects of impure air without experimentally knowing that they are listening to solemn truth; while as to the dwelling-houses, the homes of the dear people, it requires no bloodhound's scent to distinguish them one from another! The moment the front door is opened to me, I am assailed by the odor peculiar to the establishment. It may be tuberoses or garlic, mould or varnish, whitewash, gas, lamp-smoke, or new carpets, a definite and describable or an indefinite and indescribable fragrance, but it is sure to be something besides pure fresh air. [Illustration: SHINGLING.] Let me give you first a suggestion for summer ventilation. Did you ever shingle the south side of a barn on a calm, hot, sunny day in July, thermometer at ninety degrees in the shade? Did you ever lay your hand on a black slate or tin roof exposed to the direct rays of a midsummer sun? Have you ever, at the close of some hot, labor-spent day in August, sat out of doors until the evening air became deliciously cool, and then climbed to your attic dormitory, there to spend a sleepless night in perspiration and despair, anathematizing the man who built and the fate which compelled you to occupy such a chamber of torment? Now, there is no good reason why the rooms immediately under the roof of a house should be any more uncomfortable on account of heat than those of the first story. Nay, more, by the simplest application of common-sense, these upper rooms may be so coolly ventilated that the hotter the sun pours his rays upon the roof the more salubrious shall be your palace in the sky. And this I call a triumph of genius, making the seemingly destructive wrath of the elements to serve and save us. M. Figuier tells us with just how many hundred thousand horse-power the sun, by the caloric of its beams, operates upon the surface of the earth. I cannot tell precisely how much force is spent upon the roofs of the houses that cover so much of the good mother's bosom in certain localities, but I know that it is wonderfully great, and that rightly controlled it will make the space immediately under these roofs cool instead of hot. And this is the way to cause the heat of a burning sun to cool the attic chamber: Make the space between the rafters on the sunny sides of your building as smooth and unobstructed as possible. Arrange openings into the outer air at the lower end of each, simple or complex, according to your taste and ability. Provide also means for closing the same in cold weather. Be sure that these spaces, or flues, are enclosed either by lath and plaster, or by smooth boards, quite to the highest part of the roof, whether your rooms are finished to the top or not,--and provided with an abundant outlet at the top. This may also be as simple as the dorsal breathing-holes of a tobacco barn, gorgeously imposing as an Oriental pinnacle, or it may be a part of the chimney; only let it be at the very summit, ample, and so arranged that an adverse wind shall not prevent the egress of the rising currents of air. Mind this, too; it is by no means the same thing to let these flues open into a loft over the attic rooms, with windows in gables or other outlet. Now, do you not see that as soon as the sun has warmed the flues, there will be a stiff breeze blowing, not over the roof, but really between the roof and the house, and the hotter the sun the stiffer the breeze; in the words of one who has tried it,--"a perfect hurricane." That is, the lath and plaster, or sheathing, which forms the inner roof, is shaded by a canopy of slate, shingles, or tin, and fanned by a constant breeze as cool at least as the outer air. But we can do vastly better than that. Instead of opening the lower ends of these flues to the outer air, they may be extended wherever the needs of the house require, or its construction will allow. Let me remind you, under the head of general principles, that there is no such thing as "suction." Of course, you know it when you stop to think, but bear it in mind, and wherever the motive-power seems to be applied on which you rely to lift the column of air, remember that if raised at all it must be raised from the bottom. Maybe you will discover room for a moral here. This summer ventilation is simple enough, and relates rather to comfort than to health. The great question in building, for New England and similar climates, is, indeed, how to keep our houses warm, and, without great expenditure of fuel, have a constant change of air. As you suggest, we have learned that wood costs eight or ten dollars a cord instead of the mere labor of cutting and hauling; hence we have shut the mouths of the old-time fireplaces, mouths that it would cost a fortune to feed. We find the value of building-timber increasing every year; so we make thinner walls, lined outside and inside with paper, and have cold houses, no fresh air, anthracite coal, and disease. Our grandfathers carried foot-stoves to church, where they sat and shivered, sometimes with the cold, sometimes at the doctrines. We have warm air and stale. Let us hope our children will have warmth and freshness for body and soul. They, in their homes, had big fireplaces, loose doors, rattling windows, cracks in the walls, and as they lay in bed looked at the stars through the chinks in the roof, or felt the snow blow on their cheeks which were ruddy with health and vigor. We have cylinder stoves, double windows, tight walls plastered and papered, and pale faces. [Illustration: GOOD OLD TIMES.] Yet we build and furnish more wisely than our ancestors. They ventilated because they couldn't help it, couldn't afford to build as we do, and could afford to burn an acre of woodland every year. It is no light task you have set me preliminary to an honorable discharge. Next to theology and government finance there is no subject on which the doctors differ and dogmatize as in this matter of warming and ventilating, most of them preferring that the universe should suffocate rather than their pet theories and furnaces be found wanting. (I'm not speaking of the theologians.) Let me restate a few general principles, simple and obvious, yet so important that we must not risk forgetting them. Air runs away with heat fast enough if allowed to move. Confined it is a more effectual barrier than granite walls and plates of steel. Hence the spaces in the wall should not extend its whole height unless for local ventilation. Cut them off surely at each floor, and as much oftener as you please; also make the floors tight and warm. Deafen with mortar if you can afford it, and do not allow the open spaces between the floor-timbers to extend unbroken through the house, or fail to close them between the rafters when the ceiling of the highest story is above the plates. If you wish to warm the entire house, it will be good economy to lath and plaster along the under side of the rafters quite to the ridgepole. Finally put on your double windows, and you are ready for winter quarters. In theory, the house being once warmed, the temperature within should scarcely change, even if the fire goes out. Practically, the walls cannot hold this subtile caloric, however scientifically they are padded. There will be crevices, too, though the prince of joiners builds your house, through which the warm air will escape. But replenishing this inevitable loss would be a small matter, if the breath of life were a needless luxury. Unless, however, we are willing to suck poison into our veins with every breath we draw, slow but sure,--poison expired from our lungs and emanating from our bodies, poisonous gases liberated by the combustion of fuel, poison dust and decay from the waste of inorganic material,--we must have a never-ceasing supply of fresh air around us everywhere and always. Now this incoming fluid, cold as ice, eats fuel like a hungry giant, yet we must receive it with open arms, and, as soon as fairly warmed, send it off through the ventilating flue, bearing whatever noxious elements may chance to be afloat, and, of course, much of the warmth we love and buy so dearly. We have then to supply these three sources of loss. Obviously for economy the two former must be prevented to the utmost, the latter rigidly controlled. Thus far, except the old fogies who don't believe in ventilation, we can all travel together harmoniously. Now our way divides, the doctors begin to differ, and the patients begin to die. The first fork is at the two modes of warming, direct and indirect. The former includes stoves of all sorts,--sheet or cast iron, porcelain, soapstone, brick or pottery, box or cylinder, for wood or coal, air-tight, Franklin, "cannon," or base-burner, parlor cook or kitchen cook, charcoal basin, warming-pan or foot-stove,--anything in which you can build a fire. It includes open grates and fireplaces, ancient or modern, large or small; it includes steam-pipes, hot-water pipes, and stove-pipes; and last, but not least, steam-radiators, than which it has never entered into the heart of man to conceive anything more surprising and unaccountable,--flat, pin-cushiony things, big as a bedquilt, dangerous-looking hedgehoggy affairs, some huge and bungling, others frail and leaky, but radiators still. In brief, the heating apparatus, whatever it may be, stands in the room to be warmed. By the indirect mode it is enclosed in a chamber more or less remote, commonly called a furnace, and made of brick, sheet-iron, or wood lined with tin. Into this chamber cold air is admitted from some source, and escapes by its own levity, usually through tin pipes, to the rooms where the heat is needed. Sometimes it is driven out by mechanical means. The advocates of the latter indirect mode claim for it many advantages. It is apparently clean. There are no ashes to be taken up, no hearths to sweep, no andirons to polish, no stoves to black. One fire will warm the entire house if well arranged, and, for a trump card, there may be a supply of fresh air straight from the north pole, but agreeably warmed, constantly entering the room. The objections are less numerous but more weighty. The liability to imperfect construction and careless management often makes a furnace, especially a cast-iron one, a savor of death unto death rather than of health and comfort; also, when we are warmed by air thrown into a room at a high temperature, and dry at that, a greater degree of heat is necessary for comfort than if our bodies and clothing absorb heat from a radiating surface. The furnace, in short, compels us to breathe an atmosphere highly rarefied. We have the most careful and competent authority for believing this to be gravely injurious. Direct radiation from stoves, or other heating apparatus, except open fireplaces, is, moreover, economical of fuel, but, on the other hand, unless abundant ventilation is provided, the atmosphere in rooms thus warmed soon becomes unfit for respiration. Now you may stop and think. Next time you shall have the conclusion of the whole matter. LETTER XXXIX. From John. HOW TO DO IT. MY DEAR ARCHITECT: I'm in a hurry. Let me ask you a few square questions. Give me square answers if you can; if not, say so. What kind of a furnace shall I get? I've interviewed about a dozen; each one is warranted to give more heat, burn less coal, leak less gas, give less trouble and more satisfaction, than all the others put together. I suppose you object to cast-iron, because it's liable to be heated red-hot and burn the air. Is wrought-iron any better? Shall I put the registers in the floors or in the partitions? What do you say to steam? How shall I ventilate? Will it answer to have the ventilating flues in the outer walls? There seems to be no doubt that the foul air should be drawn from the bottom of a room; but if it's cold, how am I to get it to the ventilator on the top of the house? If a room is as tight as a fruit-can, a chimney might draw like a yoke of oxen without doing any good, and Nebuchadnezzar's furnace wouldn't drive air into it unless, in both cases, the inlets and outlets were about equal! When I go to sleep in such a room I want to be sure the dampers won't get accidentally shut. Give me your opinion on these points, but don't make a long story or a tough one. If a house is to be kept warm from turret to foundation-stone, I don't see that shutting up the spaces between the timbers would amount to much, except to stop sounds from echoing through them; but when the attic is as cold as out-doors, it's plain that the cold air will be always crawling down next the inside plastering of every room in the house if it finds a chance. Yours, JOHN. LETTER XL. From the Architect. THE BREATH OF LIFE. DEAR JOHN: No man ever built himself a house without getting out of patience before it was finished. Among all the furnaces you have examined, a certain one is doubtless better for you than any other; when I find out which one, you shall be informed. Reliable testimony on the subject can only be given by some one who has tried different kinds in the same house under similar circumstances for a considerable time. As we never have two seasons alike, and do have about three new first-class furnaces every year, it is difficult to find this valuable witness. Printed testimonials are worth three or four cents per pound. I do not know that cast-iron furnaces are more liable to be overheated than others, and you cannot "burn the air" with them if they are, unless you burn the furnace too. You may fill a room with air, every mouthful of which has been passed between red-hot iron plates, not over half an inch apart, and I do not suppose the essential properties of the air will be perceptibly changed, or hurt for breathing when properly cooled. The danger from cast-iron is in its weakness, not in its strength. You speak of poison carbon. Carbonic acid is not poison. It is harmless as water,--just. It will choke you to death if you are immersed in it. Trying to breathe it in large quantities will strangle you. But we drink it with safety and pleasure, and may breathe a little of it, even as much as thirty per cent, for a short time, without serious harm. But carbonic oxide, which is also liberated from burning anthracite, is an active poison, and one per cent of it in the air we breathe may prove instantly fatal. Now it is fully proven that these gases laugh at cast-iron and pass through it freely whenever they choose. Wrought-iron plates are supposed to be more impervious. The popular notion that foul air must be drawn from the bottom of a room is based, I think, upon a superficial knowledge of the weight of carbonic acid, an ignorance of the law of the diffusion of gases,--upon a realizing sense of the cost of coal, and an insensibility to the worth of fresh air. Even such unreliable witnesses as our senses assure us that the air at the top of a high room--say the upper gallery of an unventilated theatre--is far less salubrious, though not overheated, than that below. We know, too, how quickly the sulphurous gas that sometimes escapes from those warranted furnaces not only ascends through the tin pipes, but rises in the open stairway if it has a chance. The hurtful carbonaceous gases doubtless go with it, and are then diffused through the room. The most forcible objection to allowing the air to escape through the ceiling is that it is a wanton waste, not only of heat, but of the fresh air that has just come from the north pole by way of the furnace and cold-air box, and which, by virtue of its warmth, goes in all its purity straight to the ceiling. Accordingly the heavy cold air lying near the floor and laden with poison must be drawn out through the ventilating flue, till the upper warmth and freshness fall gently on our heads, like heavenly blessings. Let me digress here to answer another question. No, don't put your ventilating flues in the outer walls if you expect the air to rise through them in cold weather; for it will not, if they reach the moon, unless it is warmer than that lying at their base. You may as well expect water to rise from the cistern to the tank in the attic because the pipe runs there, as that air will rise simply because there is a passage for it. Sometimes holes are made into the chimney-flues, but this is robbing the stoves or the fireplaces. It is better to build an independent flue so close that it shall always feel the heat from the black warm heart of the chimney, for warmed by some means it must be. Yet warm air does not choose to rise. It falls like lead unless lifted by something heavier than itself. To return to the former point. When you can warm within a ventilating flue all the air passing through it more economically than you can warm the same quantity in the room from which it is taken, then you may admit the air to feed this same flue near the bottom and perhaps save fuel; but I doubt whether the remaining air will be any purer than if an equal amount had been allowed to escape near the ceiling. The answers to your square questions necessarily dovetail. The hot-air registers should always be in the partitions if possible. It saves sweeping dust into the pipes; it saves cutting the carpets; it lessens the risk of a debilitating warm bath to people addicted to standing over them; it diffuses the heat more evenly through the room; and, owing to this better diffusion, there is less waste through the ventilating outlet at the top of the room, if it should be there. The foregoing refers to rooms heated on the furnace principle, where all that seems needful for complete ventilation is a sufficient outgoing of the air to cause a constant change. In theory, too, the warm air must cross the room to make its exit. Indeed, the plan of admitting it at the top and drawing the cold air from the base has been strongly urged by one of the most earnest and thoughtful advocates of thorough ventilation. In practice, this fresh air is apt to come from the region of the coal-bin and potato-barrels, especially in very cold weather, and I doubt whether it will find the door of escape sooner at one side than another, unless immediately over the entrance. As to your next inquiry, I do not think our winter quarters can be warmed so safely and healthfully in any other way as by steam or hot-water radiators; but the first cost of the modes now in use puts them beyond the reach of common people, the very ones who need them most. Whether it's the tariff on pig-iron, the patent royalties, the skilled labor, the artistic designs, the steam joints and high pressure, or all combined, that make the cost, I cannot say, but I have faith that some one of the noble army of inventors will, erelong, give us a system more economical in manufacture and simple in use than any at present known. It will hardly bring him a fortune, however. The real benefit to humanity will be too great for a temporal reward. Not only will this coming system be available for cheap and isolated houses, but when they stand compactly, one boiler will send its portable caloric to the dwellers on one entire square, as gas and water are now distributed. If stoves or other local radiators are used, you must of course provide for the entrance of pure air as well as the exit of the impure. With two openings in the ceiling, the air will commonly ascend one and descend the other. Open fireplaces, whether for wood or coal, are in favor with those who have learned to love fresh air, besides being, for their cheerfulness, an unfailing antidote to melancholy, and other selfish, spiritual ills. The truth in regard to their healthfulness is simply that they compel us to sacrifice a large amount of fuel to the goddess of ventilation, far more than would be needed to give us a better state of the atmosphere, if applied in some other way; for the fire itself is hungry for oxygen, fireplaces for wood are mightily prone to smoke, and anthracite coal releases its poisonous gases at times so rapidly that none but the most voracious chimney will carry them safely away. To answer your questions directly: with a good stove in the hall and in each of the rooms not commonly used, you would probably afford one or two open fires for those constantly occupied, and keep comfortable with less outlay for fuel than with a furnace. But you would need an accommodating fool to make your fires, and an industrious philosopher to keep them burning. In this matter of warming and ventilating the more you know the more you will wish to learn. My hope is to set you thinking and studying. Read Dr. George Derby's little book on Anthracite and Health, from which I have drawn already for your benefit; read the statistics of the increase of pulmonary diseases; get the physiological importance of fresh air so clearly before your mind's eye that your dinner seems a secondary consideration, and don't be deceived by any bigoted commentators, or forget to use your own common-sense. While warming our backs we may dispose of some adjacent matters. You can make a very pretty fireplace for wood of the common buff-colored fire-bricks, either alone or variegated with good common red bricks; a hearth of encaustic tile, pressed bricks, or even Portland cement. Let the hearth be a generous one, two and a half feet wide, and at least two feet longer than the width of the fireplace, if you mean it for actual use. You must not suppose I object to cheap things because they are cheap and therefore common. The more so the better if they have real merit; but the marbleized slate mantels so abundant have not enough intrinsic beauty to justify them in supplanting the more honest and unpretending ones of wood. Real marble ought to be too expensive for such houses as yours. [Illustration: BRICK FIREPLACE.] With a furnace your house becomes a lumber-kiln, and any wood that has not been tried as by fire will, under its influence, warp and crack and shrink; in carpenters' phrase, "it tears the finish all to pieces." The rapid shrinking of the joists and studs near the hot-air pipes is also apt to cause cracks in the plastering that would never appear if the whole frame could shrink evenly, for shrink it will more or less. The application of these remarks would be, putting in the furnace as soon as possible, and keeping it steadily at work drying sap from the wood and water from the plastering till it enters upon its legitimate mission of warming the house. When you have read all this about heating and ventilating two or three times over, these conclusions will begin to crystallize in your mind:-- Open fires give the surest ventilation and the best cheer. If stoves are used for economy, fresh air must be systematically admitted. Furnaces are immensely useful to warm the bones of the house and as a sort of reserve force; but the heat they give is somewhat like a succession of January thaws. If you begin to investigate you will discover a fearful amount of ignorance and indifference where you should find positive information, and the most discouraging obscurity or conflicting statements among those who profess to be wise in such matters. LETTER XLI. From John. ETERNAL VIGILANCE. MY DEAR ARCHITECT: You did well to send the key to your puzzles, else I might have frozen to death before finding out how to keep warm. But you've earned your discharge, which I forward herewith. Now I'm going to send you some grains of wisdom, gathered during my experience in building, which you may distribute at your discretion among your clients. When a man--I don't care if it's Solomon himself--undertakes to build a house, tell him from me, to wind up all other earthly affairs before beginning; wind them up so tight they'll run for a year or two without any of his help. Then turn over a new leaf,--learn to get through breakfast before seven A.M., in order to be on the ground every moment, from the time the first spadeful of dirt is thrown out till the last touch of paint is put on. You may make full-sized drawings for him of every stick and stone, write specifications by the yard, and draw up a contract that half a dozen lawyers can't expound, there'll still be a thousand little things that won't be done as he wants them. The openings in the basement wall somehow get out of place, an inch or two too high or too low, or at one side, then the windows over them will look askew. The air-spaces in the wall will be filled up where they ought not to be, or left out where they ought to be filled; then the frost will go through one and the rats the other. If he uses colored mortar, it will be too dark or too light, or too something,--then he'll be obliged to paint the whole wall. The drains won't be put in the right place, or they'll pitch the wrong way; then he'll have to dig out new ones. The receivers for the stove-pipes will be forgotten or set in the ventilating-flues; then he might as well have no chimney. The masons will drop bricks and mortar and trowels down the flues; then he'll have to climb upon the roof with a brick tied to a rope and try to churn them out. Just at the place where the flues ought to be plastered outside and in, against the floor and roof timbers, the masons can't reach, and like as not they'll turn a brick up edgewise if a joist happens to crowd; then his house will burn up and never give him any more trouble. The war with the masons is short and sharp; that with the carpenters long and tedious. There are ten thousand ways you don't want a thing done, only one that suits you. Setting partitions looks like easy work; I don't believe a house was ever built in which all of them and the doors through them were in just the right places. I know they 're not in mine. I'd give three times the cost of the door if one of them could be moved, two inches, and as much more if another could be made six inches wider. I tried to have one of the mantels set in the middle of one side of the room, but somehow it got fixed just enough away from the centre to look everlastingly awkward. The rough work gets covered up pretty quickly, but it pays to keep watch and see that the spikes are put in where they belong; that the back plastering reaches quite up to the plate and down to the sill; that timbers are not left without visible means of support, or hung by "toe-nails" when they ought to be well framed and pinned. It's hard to make a carpenter believe that plastering cracks because his joists and furrings and studs won't hang together, but it's true a good many times. You like, also, to have something more than a good man's assurance, that the furnace pipes are "all right," and will sleep better on windy nights if you have seen all exposed corners guarded by a double lining. The gas-man had his work to do over because some of the drop-lights were not in the centre of the ceilings. I tremble to think of what might have been if I had left the painter to his own devices. It seems very clear to say you'll have the outside painted a sort of a kind of subdued gray, with trimmings a little darker, bordering on a brown; but unless you stand over the paint-tub with a loaded revolver, you'll get anything but what you expect. It may be a great deal better, but it won't be what you wanted. By the way, there's a great responsibility resting on the painters,--I don't mean the old masters, nor the young ones either, who seem to have forgotten that outside decoration was once considered quite worthy the tallest genius,--but the more modest artisans, who call themselves house and sign painters. Their broad brush often makes the beauty or the ugliness of a whole village. I'm ready for any suggestions on the subject. Hanging the doors is another point that needs watching. They'll be sure to open the wrong way. I've had three changed already, and I'll never hang another door with less than three butts, whatever its size. I suppose they always settle more or less. Why don't the workmen make allowance for it in fixing the catches? I tremble when I think of the painters, but I rejoice at my watchfulness when I reflect on the plumbing. The chances for leaking and freezing and bursting; the hidden pipes and secret crooks that were possible and only avoided by constant oversight! Now I can put my hand on every foot of pipe in the house, know where it goes to, what it's for, and that it won't burst or spring a leak with fair usage. I don't call it just the thing to drive a tenpenny nail square through a lead pipe, pull it out, and say nothing about it. You want to be on hand, too, when the trimmings are put on, and see that they are not too high or low, or fixed so you will bruise your knuckles every time you pull out the drawers or open the cupboard doors. Speaking of cupboards, there's no end to the bother if you don't just camp down in the pantry and stay there till the top shelf is up and the bottom drawer slides in its groove. In spite of our efforts, Mrs. John says there's no place for her tallest covered dish except the top shelf, which she can't reach without a step-ladder. You'll never know whether you are specially bright or the joiners extra stupid, but it's certain your way won't be their way, whichever is right. I say the man who pays his money should take his choice. But I haven't time to tell the whole story. It's the same thing from first to last. The only sure way of having a thing done well is to do it yourself; the next best is to tell some one else precisely how to do it and then watch them till it's done. The worst of these little blunders is, that they won't improve with age. They stare at you every time you see them, and they'll rise up before your great-great-grandchildren, monuments of your carelessness and ignorance. I told you my house was half done when it was well begun; now that it is almost done it seems to me only fairly begun. Yours, JOHN. LETTER XLII. From the Architect. SAVED BY CONSCIENCE. Dear John: We are just beginning to learn the importance of color. I don't allude to the wonderful revelations of the spectroscope almost passing belief, but the new departure in the useful art of house-painting. The old weather-stained, unpainted walls were not unpleasant to see; even the unmitigated red, that sometimes made a bright spot in the landscape, like a single scarlet geranium in the midst of a lawn, had a kind of amiable warmth, not to be despised; but there is no accounting for the deluge of white houses and green blinds that prevailed a few years ago. If nature had neglected our education in this respect we might be excused for our want of invention. With infinitely varied and ever-changing colors smiling upon us at all times and in all places, it is blind wilfulness not to see and strive to imitate them. We need not look to the sky nor even to the woods in their summer brightness or autumn glory. The very ground we tread glows and gleams with the richest, softest tints of every hue and shade. Look through a hole in a piece of white paper and try to match on the margin the color you find. Turn in a dozen different directions, avoid the trees and the sky, and you will have, in summer or winter, a dozen different colors. Look in the same places to-morrow, and they will all be changed, an endless variety. Some one of these soft and neutral tints should clothe the body of your house. Enliven it, if you choose, with dashes of crimson, green, or even blue and gold, but use these bright colors carefully. Aim to make your house (in this as in all other respects) in harmony with its surroundings, not defiant of them. Your proffered advice shall be duly applied, for it's true that a man may easily occupy all his leisure time, be it more or less, in watching the building of his home, however carefully the work may be laid out before he begins. No two builders will interpret and execute the same set of plans exactly alike. There are different habits of training and tricks of trade. What seems finished elegance to one is coarse awkwardness to another; and when you enter upon the more artistic part of the work, there are fine shadings impossible, even with the best intent, to any save the cultured hand and eye. The inability to perceive and therefore to bring out these delicate expressions in the execution of the work must be borne patiently. We can pardon failure when it follows an humble, honest effort. The unpardonable sin of builders is their wilful attempt to improve the architect's design by making alterations in cold blood, through sheer ignorance and conceit. They will reduce the size of the doors and windows; substitute some other moulding for that on the drawing; or tell you they have made a bracket, or a bay-window, or a cupola, for Mr. Rusticus that looked first-rate, and advise you to have the same thing. No thought of harmony or fitness, no fine sense of a distinctive idea, pervading the whole, and giving it unity and character, ever enters their heads. Argument and persuasion are alike useless. Your only safety lies in finding some young builder, who is not yet incurably wise in his own conceit, or an old one, who has learned that, while architects are not infallible, the taste and opinions of a man who studies faithfully a special department, are entitled to more respect than even his own. As you say, these defects are commonly incurable. Neither is there any redress. The builders will either tell you they "couldn't help it," "did the best they knew how," "thought the lumber was seasoned," "understood the plans that way," or else insist that it's better so,--and maybe ask you to pay extra for what you do not like. As to your own right to spoil the house by any alterations that strike your fancy or accommodate your purse, that is unquestioned. Architects who insist upon your having what you don't want or choose to pay for, exceed their prerogatives, and bring disfavor upon us considerate fellows. _We_ never try to dissuade a man from carrying out his own ideas. We only beg him to be certain that he has a realizing sense of what he is undertaking, then help him to execute it as well as we can. The more he leaves to our discretion the more hopefully do we work. All this is too late for you, but you may pass it along to Fred, the schoolmaster, Miss Jane, and any other friends or neighbors who may be in an inquiring mood. Tell them, too, there is no safety, even with the utmost vigilance, unless every workman carries with him that old-fashioned instrument, a conscience. Give me credit here for great self-control. This is the place for some preaching of the most powerful kind, but I refrain, knowing you are too much engrossed with the finishing of your house to heed it. Do you remember how it is recorded in terse Scripture phrase that "Solomon builded a house and finished it"? Evidently the finishing was then quite as important and onerous a matter as the building. I think it is a great deal more so. The carpenters and masons, to whom you pay a certain sum of money, build it. Before they come and after they go you exercise upon it your noblest, manliest faculties. Yet it will never be done. The walls may not grow any larger or the roof any higher, but every year will add some new charm, some new grace and harmony without and within. More and more the ground around it, the trees, the walks, and the grateful soil will assimilate themselves to its spirit. More and more each article of furniture will grow to be an essential part of the home, dear for its comfort, and beautiful in its fitness and simplicity. More and more you will learn the worthlessness of boastful fashion, and the exceeding loveliness of truth. LETTER XLIII. From John. FINAL AND PERSONAL. MY DEAR ARCHITECT: We've moved in. The house wasn't done but the plastering was dry, and the paint too, what there is of it, and enough rooms were finished to hold us comfortably. Mrs. John thought we should somehow feel better acquainted if we took possession while things were in a chaotic state, before the house had a chance to put on airs, and make us feel like intruders; that it would fit us better if it wasn't entirely hardened before we crawled into it. I told her 't would be a great deal easier to wait till everything was cleared up and we could take a fresh start, but she couldn't see it in that light. Said she'd known lots of folks to be completely overpowered by a new house, and she proposed to take it while it was sort of helpless, and would be under obligation to her. It's better, too, according to her notions, to get familiar with the rooms before furnishing them, and--I've forgotten what other reasons, all good enough but not exactly correct, as I've since found out. I'd noticed some unusual and rather suggestive performances of late, but wasn't quite prepared for a request to rent the old house the very day we moved. Matters seemed to culminate one night after the schoolmaster had received your sketches and estimates for his brick beginnings. I can't say as to their merits architecturally, but they cleared one of the rough places in a certain course that never runs quite smooth. The dining-room and kitchen arrangements are all right, and the establishment is already begun. It will take all summer to finish it, and, meantime, Sister Jane will have an opportunity to reduce some of her fine theories to practice in our old cottage. Whether they will all stand the test remains to be seen. I only hope these two wise people won't pin their sole chance of domestic happiness to scientific housekeeping, and if common-sense and dutiful intentions fail, as they sometimes will, that love will come to the rescue. Fred will build next year. He's concluded it's better to have his work well done than done too quickly. Yours, JOHN. BY WAY OF APPENDIX. A CHAPTER FROM ACTUAL EXPERIENCE. "Now you can stay just as long as you please, and I wouldn't have you feel hurried, on any account; but if you're really going to go pretty soon, I'd like to know when it's to be, so I can lay my plans accordingly." Thus our good landlady, when we said our new house was beginning to look nearly ready for us. A most reasonable request, and we, always cheerfully responsive to such, replied, "By all means; certainly; quite right: we'll see the workmen to-day and find out just when the new domicile will be ready for us." In pursuance of this object, straightway then we flew to the carpenter. "Tell us, O worthy master!" we cried, "when shall the new house be done?" "Wal, let me see." And he scratched his head with the scratch-awl. "It's a'most done now. Ther ain't much more to do. We've pretty much finished up. Ther's the doors to hang and trim, 'n' the closet shelves 'n' things to fix up; the stairs ain't quite done, n'r the front steps. I d'nno; ther's a number o'little jobs 'round,--don't amount to much,--coal-bin, thresholds, and one or two things you want to change; take three or four days, I guess, if the plumbers and furnace folks get out of the way; week, mebbe." "You think, then, by a week from next Saturday--to-day is Thursday morning--you will have everything cleared up?" "O yes, easy!" Alas! ingratitude is not confined to republics. We thought it a most kind and judicious thing to grant nine days, when but three or four--six at the most--had been asked. Worldly wisdom would have said, "No, sir; three days you can't have; it must all be done to-morrow night." But we are not worldly-wise; innocent, confiding, and rejoicing, we went our way,--went our way to the plumber. "O good plumber!" quoth we, "how long will it take you to complete the work you have begun so well?" "How long? 'Twon't take no time. Just as soon as the copper comes for the tank, I shall finish it all up. There ain't much of it, anyhow; it's all done but that." "And when is the aforesaid copper coming?" "When is't a coming? Any time. Shouldn't be surprised if 'twas here now." "You can finish it then surely within a week." "Within a week? I sh'd think likely,"--the last remark backed up by such a smile as made further question impossible. Once more we pursued our investigating tour, saying to the prompt proprietor of the centrifugal-stove store, "Is that new furnace that is to make June of January, that never does what it ought not to do or leaves undone what ought to be done, that asks a mere handful of coal every twenty-four hours and runs itself, ready for its trial trip?" "It is, sir." "Registers all set and--" "Well, no; the registers can't be set till everything else is out of the way." "Ah, yes, of course; but 't won't take long to do that?" "They shall all be set in the twinkling of an eye, at a moment's notice." And now it only remained to hie away to the painter. So we hied and hailed him. "Tell us, O man of many hues! how much time will you need to paint and stain and grizzle and grain and tint and stripe and fill and shellac and oil and rub and scrub and cut and draw and putty and sand-paper and size and distemper and border and otherwise exalt and glorify the walls and woodwork of our house, after the other workmen are through, making allowance for what you have already done and will be able to do while they are still at work?" "I tell you what it is, Mr. Architect, it shall be done just as soon as possible. The fact is, we've got the heft of it done now. We shall follow the carpenters up sharp, and get through almost as soon as they do." Outwardly serene, but smiling triumphantly within, we went to our daily roast-beef, and in the sweet simplicity of a blissful ignorance and a clear conscience assured our patient hostess that the dog-days and her unworthy guests should go out together. Yet we never told a lie or wilfully deceived any man, much less a woman. But we anticipate. At the close of the third day we essayed to examine progress at the new house. As we approached, a dim and doubtful but wondrous pleasant anticipation took possession of our fancy. What if it should, indeed, be finished! The carpenter had suggested three or four days,--three had already passed. The painter was to get through _almost_ as soon, the plumber would surely be out of the way, and there would be only the furnace registers. It was, perhaps, too good to be true, and we lingered to give the notion time to grow. Opening the door at last, we received something the same shock the traveller feels when he encounters a guide-post telling him the next town is half a mile farther on than it was three miles back. But we've not lived forty years without learning to bury our "might-have-beens" with outward composure, whatever the internal commotion. We remembered there was still a week, and resolved to keep a sharp lookout that no time was wasted; an idle resolution, for the workmen were as anxious to get through as we were to have them. Faithful industry and attention we may demand, haste we have no right to ask. But our men actually hurried. We were instant in season and out of season, and can testify, with both hands in our empty pockets, that there was not an hour wasted. Yet our full-blown hopes fell, as the roses fall, leaf by leaf; drop by drop our patience ebbed, till, ere the close of the week, we sank slowly down on a pile of black-walnut shavings in the calmness of despair. To make a long story short, we gave up, beaten, trespassed a week on our long-suffering hostess, then went to visit our rich relations. They were glad to see us when we came, and wondered how long we were going to stay. We thought best to let them wonder, which they did for the space of a few weeks, when we folded our nightgowns and silently stole--not the spoons, but ourselves--away. We mentioned the calmness of despair. From that depth it is often but a single step to the serenity of faith, on which sublime height not the wreck of matter and the crush of worlds hath power to vex or make afraid, much less a few pine shavings and the want of a little paint. Despair is never endless; it's a short-lived emotion at the worst, a selfish one at the best. Moralizing thus, it was by some means revealed to us that people are happy in paying twenty-five dollars a week at Martha's Vineyard and Mount Desert for the blessed privilege of living in unfinished and unfurnished rooms,--breathing plenty of fresh air, typhoid malaria thrown in,--and eating such food as the uncertain winds and waves may waft thither. If at Mount Desert why not at Rock Rimmon, especially as the cost is somewhat less, the fresh air equally abundant, with nothing more malarious than the pungent perfume of the pines, and all the products of the civilized world within easy reach? Moreover, our third, fourth, and fifth stories--the floor of the latter just above the ridge pole, its ceiling just beyond the stars--were, for all purposes of use and comfort, ready for occupation. So we entered, hung up our hats, and told the busy builders we had come to stay. Which we have done; and now it's the first of October. The leaves are falling, the rooks are calling, the crickets are crawling, and the katydids are--well, squalling. There's a work-bench bigger than Noah's ark in the drawing-room, another in the library, next size larger, five tool-chests in as many different rooms, a thousand feet of lumber in the front hall, and nine hundred and thirty-seven different colored paint-pots in the guest-room,--more or less. We pry into cupboards and drawers with our finger-nails, we keep next the wall going up stairs, draw water through a straw, and to open doors we thrust a square stick through a round hole and twist and turn till the stick breaks or the door opens. Generally the stick breaks. But we are no longer desperate. The sound of the builder's axe and hammer mingles harmoniously with the rattling of dishes and the drumming of the piano. A profound peace possesses our souls, for Nature's own infinite glory is around us, and we go from our castle in Spain to our cottage by the sea, from our house of active industry to our restful home in the New Jerusalem, with the opening and the closing of a door. We are not anxious or impatient, being well assured that steadfast industry will finally conquer and our house be finished as far as mortal house should be. Which leads us to remark just here, that a man ought never to think his house is quite complete; he will not, if he is wise, and grows as long as he lives. Our present point is the inevitable delay in the outward finishing to which home building is especially subject,--a difficulty familiar to all who have tried it, but which people cannot always get out of by jumping squarely into it as we have done. There are various reasons for it. A superficial view of building is one. The masons are scarcely noticed before the foundation-walls are laid; the walls shoot up in a single day; the roof spreads its saving shelter as easily as though it were a huge umbrella; the windows open their eyes in new-born wonder; the chimneys breathe the blue breath of home life out into the world; the painter touches the clapboards with his magic wand; and, with one accord, all men cry out, and especially all women, "Wal, I do declare! That air house goes up in a hurry, don't it? Guess there hain't much but green lumber gone into that. Folks'll be movin' in 'n a few days. Ketch me goin' into a house like that! I'd a good deal druther live in an old house than die in a new one." But, for some reason, the folks don't move in. Week after week passes without visible change till we hear no more of haste, but owner and neighbors grow impatient, and can't for their lives see why that house wa'n't done weeks and weeks ago! In point of fact, when it appeared almost wholly built, it was hardly begun. The work thus far had been of the sort that can be quickly executed, much of it done by machinery. Even after the plastering is dry, the floors laid, the windows in, and perhaps the greater part of the interior woodwork in place, the actual labor of finishing is but fairly begun. Changes always cause delay more or less serious. Whoever makes alterations in his house builds four houses. There is the first doing it, which is one; then there is the "cussing and discussing," the hesitating and final deciding to make the change, equivalent, at least in time and nervous wear and tear, to the original work, which is two; the undoing is three; and the final adjusting it to your mind is four. Woe to him by whom the change cometh, but come it will. It can be wholly avoided only by having things done as you do not want them and will never be satisfied to leave them. Of course, the want of plans is a fruitful source of alterations. We are too modest and too sensible to say all plans should be drawn by an architect, but carefully prepared they must be, and, what is commonly more difficult, thoroughly understood by the party most interested, that is, the owner. Another reason why the lengthened sweetness of finishing is so long drawn out comes from the constant increase of "modern improvements,"--accessories deemed essential to the completeness of home comfort and convenience. Nowhere is the fertility of inventive genius more apparent than in these household appliances, to all of which the apostolic injunction applies, "Prove and hold fast the good." Hold fast and be grateful, for they are the world's best benefactors whose work makes happier homes. THE END. Cambridge: Electrotyped and Printed by Welch, Bigelow, & Co. 
26354	----	WOODWARD'S COUNTRY HOMES, BY GEO. E. & F. W. WOODWARD, ARCHITECTS, =Authors of "Woodward's Graperies and Horticultural Buildings."= FOURTH THOUSAND. NEW-YORK: GEO. E. & F. W. WOODWARD, 37 PARK ROW, Office of the HORTICULTURIST. 1866. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1865, by GEO. E. & F. W. WOODWARD, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, for the Southern District of New York. STEPHEN HALLET, PRINTER, No. 74 Fulton Street. CONTENTS. PAGE. INTRODUCTION. Domestic Architecture and Embellishment 7 DESIGN NO. 1. A Laborer's Cottage 25 DESIGN NO. 2. A Small Frame Cottage 28 DESIGN NO. 3. A Compact Frame Cottage 30 DESIGN NO. 4. A Rural Cottage of moderate extent 34 DESIGN NO. 5. A Gardener's Cottage 40 DESIGN NO. 6. Stone Stable and Coach House 45 DESIGN NO. 7. A Farm Cottage 46 DESIGN NO. 8. Design for a Timber Cottage 50 DESIGN NO. 9. Design for a Rural Church. 53 DESIGN NO. 10. A Suburban Cottage 58 DESIGN NO. 11. An Ornamental Summer House 64 DESIGN NO. 12. Stable and Carriage House 66 DESIGN NO. 13. A Model Cottage 68 DESIGN NO. 14. A Cottage Stable 75 DESIGN NO. 15. Design for an Ice House 76 DESIGN NO. 16. A Suburban Cottage 79 DESIGN NO. 17. Stable and Carriage House 86 DESIGN NO. 18. School House at Irvington 87 DESIGN NO. 19. A regular Country House 93 DESIGN NO. 20. A Country Chapel 96 DESIGN NO. 21. An Old House Remodeled 99 DESIGN NO. 22. Coach House and Stable 104 DESIGN NO. 23. Fences 106 DESIGN NO. 24. Plans of the Residence of C. F. Park, Esq. 108 DESIGN NO. 25. Carriage House and Stable 111 DESIGN NO. 26. Residence of T. H. Stout, Esq. 113 DESIGN NO. 27. A Chapter on Gates 119 DESIGN NO. 28. Mr. Tristram Allen's House at Ravenswood, Enlarged 131 DESIGN NO. 29. Plans of the Residence of L. M. Ferris, Esq. 134 DESIGN NO. 30. A Model Suburban Cottage 139 DESIGN NO. 31. Head Stone 149 BALLOON FRAMES. Balloon Frames 151 WOODWARD'S COUNTRY HOMES. IN presenting to the public a new work on DOMESTIC ARCHITECTURE, it is our aim to furnish practical designs and plans, adapted to the requirements of such as are about to build, or remodel and improve, their COUNTRY HOMES. The rapid progress in rural improvement and domestic embellishment all over the land, during the last quarter of a century, is evident to the observation of every traveler, and, as we have found during several years of professional experience, there has grown up a demand for architectural designs of various grades, from the simple farm cottage to the more elaborate and costly villa, which is not supplied by the several excellent works on this subject which are within the reach of the building and reading public. Among the permanent dwellers in the country this spirit of improvement, fostered as it is by the diffusion of publications in the various departments of Rural Art, and by a wider and more genial general culture as the means of intercommunication and education are increased, is becoming more manifest every year. But besides these intelligent farmers and tradesmen who make the country their home the year round, there is a large class of persons whose tastes or business avocations compel them to reside a considerable portion of the year in our cities or suburbs--prosperous merchants, bankers, professional men, and wealthy citizens--who have the tastes and means to command such enjoyments and luxuries as the country affords; who need the change in scenes, associations, employments and objects of interest, for themselves and their households, and who enjoy, with a keen relish, the seclusion, the comparative freedom from restraint, the pure, sweet air, the broad, open sunshine, and the numerous other rural advantages which are essentially denied them in their city homes. In former years this class of people resorted, almost exclusively, to the sea-side, and a few popular mineral springs, taking in, perhaps, Niagara in their transit, and rarely venturing into the wild and unexplored regions of Lake George. They returned to town in the early days of September, with many a backward, longing look at the attractions and delights from which they reluctantly tore themselves away, and settled down again to the weary tread-mill of business. But for some years past this class has largely increased in number, and instead of confining themselves to their former resorts, they now seek the upper country, and prolong their stay into the glorious days of Autumn. Many of them have provided permanent summer homes, among the hills and on the lake or river shores. They have bought, and built, and planted, until they have identified themselves with the chosen spot, and as their trees have taken root in the fertile soil, so have their affections taken root in the beautiful country. They hasten gladly to these rural scenes with the opening Summer, and they leave them with regret when the exigencies of business require their presence in the city,--when the Summer suns have ripened the luscious fruits, and the flowers fade with the frosty kisses of the cold, and the passenger birds fly Southward. This class of our population know where to find all the facilities for the best country enjoyments, and their ample means assure them a free choice of summer resorts, and adequate command of all the appliances of pleasant country living. But there is another and still larger class of citizens who have neither the means to enable them to keep up both town and country residences, nor such command of their time that they can pass two or three months of every summer away from their business. There are thousands of clerks and subordinate officers in the banking and insurance institutions in our cities and in our large commercial houses; there are many merchants who are making their way slowly and surely to competence and wealth, who would gladly compromise for one-third of such a summer vacation. These are men of intelligence, and sometimes of a good deal of social and intellectual culture and refinement. Many of them were born, and their boyhood nurtured amongst the hills. They love the country with the intensity and purity of a first love, and they long for communion once more with nature in all her moods of loveliness. Their sweetest dreams still, when they forget the hard realities of life, are of green lawns and sloping hill-sides, of waving trees and cool streams. And they would wish that their children should become familiar with the same wholesome associations, and be moved by the same attachments and inspirations. In the city they are constantly exposed to its excitements, and subjected to the restraints of its artificial modes, with few outward influences to counteract upon their development; with very little, indeed, except the discipline and the affections of home to emancipate them from the tendencies to a trivial, artificial, and sordid life. They would gladly supply to them the healthful tone and vigor--the outer and inner bloom and freshness--which are the product of out-door life in the pure air of the country. But they are compelled by considerations of economy, to forego most of these advantages, and allow their children to grow up with city tastes and habits. They long for the country but think they must content themselves with the town, until the time comes when their fortunes will enable them to command the coveted indulgences. The time may come, sooner than they anticipate, when they will be obliged to choose the country. Our towns are rapidly overflowing their local boundaries, and spreading out into suburbs, more or less beautiful and desirable. As far as New York city is concerned, it is simply a question of time how soon our middle-class citizens, who desire to live comfortably, with due regard to economical conditions, will be obliged to choose the country for their homes. During the last forty years this city has increased in population with a rapid and uniform rate. Within the memory of persons now living, it has grown from an inconsiderable commercial town, until it has become one of the great cities of the world. This rapid stride and steady progress furnish us with the elements for calculating the period when the whole island will be covered with buildings, and there will remain no more vacant space for the use of its commerce, or the domestic accommodation of its citizens. The present population of the city is estimated at fully one million. The entire territorial capacity of the city, the density of the population remaining the same as it is at present, cannot much exceed two millions. The ratio of increase during each period of five years, since 1820, is about twenty-eight per cent. It will thus be seen that the utmost limit of the city's capacity will be reached within the next sixteen or seventeen years, and New York will be a solid and compact city from the Battery to Westchester County. Meanwhile, the expenses of living in the city are increasing every year. Rents are higher now than ever before, and there is no prospect of their coming down for many years. For it must be remembered that when we renew our building operations, which have been nearly suspended for the last four years, in consequence of the unsettled condition of the country, we shall have to provide not only for the current increase in population, but for the deficiencies which result from the past four years or more, when comparatively few houses were erected. At the present time the rent of a convenient and respectable house, suitable to the requirements of a family having a fair income, and occupying a desirable position in society, is an excessive item of cost. And the remedy for this is to go into the country. Along the lines of our railroads and navigable waters there are localities where land is comparatively cheap,--beautiful, healthy regions, where the comforts of a rural home may be secured, with all the advantages of society, and of religious and educational establishments and institutions. The facilities for reaching these country homes are already adequate for general purposes, and will be increased every year, as the demand for them grows. Railroads and steamboats are built and run for the purpose of profit on freight and passenger transportation. According to the general law of trade, the supply will equal the demand, and as the population increases along our lines of travel, the facilities and accommodations for transit will be multiplied. Why, then, should the man who loves the country, and possesses tastes and capacities for its enjoyment, and yet is compelled by circumstances to practice economy in his mode of living, be restrained to the city limits? It is quite a practicable thing for him to realize his wishes,--live in the country and enjoy its best luxuries, without abandoning the city as far as its commercial advantages are concerned. There are localities _within an hour_ of the city hall, where land can be purchased at reasonable rates, and where all the advantages of health and beauty, of retirement, pure air and attractive scenery can be enjoyed for less money than is now expended in the narrow house in the crowded street, where every sense is offended--with no open sky or distant horizon tinged with the glories of the dying day or rising morn--no grassy lawns, or waving trees, or fragrant banks of flowers. For such accommodations as he has, he pays, we will say, a rent of one thousand or twelve hundred dollars. In the country he might purchase two acres of land and build a cottage, which would afford him all, or more, conveniences than he now has, without the necessity of climbing four or five flights of stairs--at an outlay, at the usual cost of building, not exceeding six thousand dollars. The interest on this sum would be four hundred and twenty dollars. The difference between this amount and his present house rent would in a few years pay the whole cost of the place, and he would have a _home_--a centre and gathering place for his domestic interests and affections. And this is no fancy sketch--no exaggerated statement of possibilities. We know of localities which can be reached from Wall Street in as many minutes as would be required to go to 50th Street, where land can be obtained for about five hundred dollars an acre, where there are all the conditions of health, good water, pure air, extensive and attractive views, and whatever else is desirable for a country home. In the direction we have now specially in mind, there are at least twenty railroad trains which daily stop at convenient stations, between the early morning and ten o'clock at night. For the ordinary purposes of business, and social intercourse, this is ample travelling accommodation, and as we said before, these accommodations will be increased in the proportion that the country population in the neighborhood of our cities becomes more dense, and thus creates a larger demand for such facilities. The necessity and desirableness of country homes being thus easily demonstrable, it is of importance to know how to choose sites for them, and how to build. The Poet-author of "Letters from under a bridge," has given a wise and admirable suggestion in regard to choice of sites, "leaving the climate and productiveness of soil out of the question, the main things to find united, are, _shade_, _water_, _and inequality of surface_. With these three features given by nature, any spot may be made beautiful, and at very little cost: and fortunately for purchasers in this country, most land is valued and sold with little or no reference to these or other capabilities for embellishment." There is an affluence of choice sites all over the country, and what we need most to learn is how to develop their capabilities, and add such fitting embellishments as belong to beautiful and convenient houses. Here it is that the popular taste requires additional cultivation. The impulse already given in this direction should be kept up. There is no deficiency of wealth for the appropriation and culture of these attractive places, and there is often a lavish expenditure upon country homes which ought to make them complete and even magnificent. But unfortunately we see, every year, costly establishments, designed for summer residences, or for permanent homes, built up with as little regard for taste, as for expense. The deficiency is found rather in the culture than in the dispositions and means of our people. And the remedy and supply for this must be provided by the dissemination of works treating upon this and kindred topics of rural art, by means of which the public taste may be refined and elevated to a higher standard. In constructing country houses there are several prime conditions to be observed, such as adaptation, accommodation, and expression. By adaptation is meant not only the arrangement of the main structure, as to form and material, to suit the locality and character of the grounds, but a fitness as respects the real wants--the habits and condition--of the occupants and the purposes of a country home. Nobody wants a modern city house planted down in the open country, nor should any sensible man seek a refuge from the bare streets of the city in the little less bare streets of a country village. There is no congruity between the classical forms of Grecian Architecture and the varying climate of our land. The material used in the construction of our country houses has not been sufficiently considered by us. Timber is abundant in almost all parts of the country, and the facility with which an establishment--mansion-house, office, and outbuildings--can be built up in a few weeks, of this material, has been the main reason, we suppose, why we have so many abortions, in the shape of Grecian temples, and miniature Gothic cathedrals and castles, scattered over the land. Let it be considered, that in building our country houses, we are not simply providing for ourselves, but for our children--we are constructing a homestead. It is for the want of this consideration that we have so few _homes_ in our country, so few home associations, around and among which our deepest and purest affections are entwined. Our thin lath and plaster constructions, which rattle and tremble in every wind and leak in every rain, do not afford very good or permanent centers for these associations and affections. We have some native woods that are durable, out of which we may build houses that will last for several generations; but with these, even, the cost of frequent repairs and painting is so great, to say nothing of the annoyances thereby entailed, that, in point of economy, wood is by no means the most desirable material. Nor is it, in any way, the most desirable. The prevailing taste in country dwellings, before Mr. Downing's time, was defective enough. A large, square, wooden house, painted intensely white, garnished with bright green Venetian blinds--standing in a contracted yard--inclosed with a red or white wooden fence, was the very beau ideal of a gentleman's country dwelling. We are thankful that this dispensation has passed away; and we revere the memory of Downing, and of others like him, who were instrumental in bringing in a better taste in such matters. The first cost of a stone or brick dwelling somewhat exceeds that of wood, even in places where these materials are readily obtained. But if they are properly constructed, such buildings will need very few repairs for many years. It is often objected, on the other hand, that such buildings are damp and unwholesome. This is, undoubtedly, true of many of the old stone houses which we find scattered about the country. And it is true, because they were not properly built. When properly built, they preserve the most equal temperature at all seasons. They are warm in winter and cool in summer, and the sudden changes which affect the weather without, need scarcely be felt by the delicate invalid within the walls of the stone mansion, if suitable attention is given to the simple matter of ventilation. But let us return to the subject of adaptation. The illustrations which occur to us may serve to furnish a somewhat clear idea of what we mean by the prime conditions necessary to be observed in building. By the term adaptation, we mean such choice of style, material, size and arrangement as shall fit the structure: 1st, to the site; 2d, to the climate; and 3d, to the uses for which it is built. And, first, as to the site: It would be obviously incongruous to erect the same house on these two different sites, with their different characteristic features and surroundings; for example, _the one_ a nearly level plane gently rising, perhaps, as you approach from the road the position where the house shall stand, and sloping away again towards other broad green fields and the fertile meadows beyond--with no background of hills or mountains, no irregularly formed lake, but with a placid, lazy stream, half-sleeping, half-gliding by the weeping elms, and among the scattered groups of stately, old trees:--_the other_, a romantic hillside in the native forest, with its neighboring mountain range, where in the bright summer-time, the noisy, laughing brook keeps time to your thoughts and fancies as you wander among the hills, and in the bleak winter the winds sigh mournfully through the pines or utter their clarion calls to the spirit of the storm. The one situation would be appropriate to the Italian villa, with its flat roof, and overhanging cornices, its spacious verandahs and balconies, all having that depth and boldness and variety of outline necessary to secure the proper effects of light and shadow which, the absence of all variety of form in the landscape, would render indispensable. But no man with an artist's eye would think, for a moment, of building such a house as this on our wooded hillside. He would construct there his English cottage in good solid stone, whose steep roofs would shed with facility the summer rain and the winter snow, whose irregularities of form and outline would harmonize with nature's Gothic work in precipice and rock, in trees and climbing vines. Or else, he would place there his Swiss chalét, which would be in harmony with the scene, and a pleasing object to the eye of the observer. On the broad, open plane the villa should be made, or seem, to cover a considerable space, while the nice cottage might be built more compactly. But here let us remark, that many of our attempts at the English cottage, generally known as the Gothic, have been failures, and some of them sad abortions. This comes from defective models and plans, and these defects arise mainly from these sources--the lack of boldness and variety in the main outlines, and in the construction of the roofs and chimneys. Such a cottage, to be pleasing and satisfactory, must have irregularities in form, variety in ornament, and boldness in treatment. A square house with additions of gables, and dormers and pinnacles, and ridge crests, will not give us an English cottage. It is a work of art, like a poem or a picture, and not a mechanical aggregation of Gothic features and ornaments. We were about to say that it should never be attempted in any other material than stone, but as many of us cannot command the means for such permanent buildings, we will concede that it may be allowable for us to put our wooden buildings into the cottage form, using the best taste and the most beautiful and picturesque styles, even if the material is objectionable. One other observation, before we return to our main topic, may be indulged. It is simply the suggestion that too little attention has been paid to the _sky-outlines_ of our country houses. Roofs and chimney-tops have been treated as necessary evils, instead of being made, as they may be, highly ornamental. The unity of the plan, as a work of art, is lost as you ascend above the eaves, all the rest seeming like excrescences growing out of structures otherwise commendable and satisfactory. The superior horizontal lines of the roof will depend somewhat upon the background of the house. When a building is placed upon the crest of a hill, or upon a slope descending from the main point of view, so that its outlines are seen against the sky, the treatment of the plan will be obviously different from that required where the background is solid, as a hill or a forest. In any case, however, the horizontal lines should be broken, as far as practicable, by making the roofs of the several parts of the house of unequal height. It will be apparent, without special argument, that our choice of style in our country houses should be controlled essentially by the climate. In our northern climate, the flat roof is objectionable, and we are obliged to modify the Italian styles somewhat in this respect, to obviate inconveniences. The hot summer sun, when, as on an August day, in the city, "The pavements all are piping hot, The sky above is brazen, And every head as good as dead The sun can shed his rays on," will be more than likely to open the joints and seams of the flat roof, and the sudden shower coming down with the force of a tropical storm, will find its way through, sadly to the detriment of our ceilings, our stuccoes and frescoes, as well as to the comfort and the commendable equability of temper of those who suffer the invasion. The heavy winter snows, too, require a steep roof, from which they will readily dislodge themselves without injury. And so in the interior arrangements of the house, the provisions for heating and ventilation, for summer freedom and winter coziness, for domestic comfort and the exercise of the commendable grace of country hospitality, due regard must be had to the conditions of climate. There must be a proper adaptation to them, if we would secure satisfactory country homes. And this brings us to our last topic, the uses for which our country seats are built. The place designed simply for a summer residence for the citizen, who is obliged to be at his office or counting room daily, bating the few weeks of summer vacation, need not be so complete in its appointments and arrangements, as the permanent country residence. One essential condition, however, in this case is, that there shall be _room enough_, with ample verandahs, and shaded gravel walks, which will afford opportunities for open air exercise in all states of the weather. There is nothing, perhaps, that interferes so essentially with the citizen's enjoyment of the country, as the want of facilities for out door exercise. It is too hot or too dusty to ride or walk, before the shower, and after its refreshment has come, it is too wet and muddy. Spacious verandahs, shaded with vines, and well-made walks, always firm and dry, bordered with shrubbery, or overhung with trees, will give us "ample scope and verge enough." But the uses of country seats depend mainly upon the tastes and habitudes of the occupants; and their adaptation in style size and arrangement should be accordingly. We believe there is no law against a man's building an elegant library and picture gallery, though he may have no taste for literature or art, but having plenty of money, chooses to make this display of it. There are a great many absurdities to which poor, frail humanity is liable, against which the legislature, in its wisdom, has not thought it worth while to make solemn and positive enactments; it is better for the general moral condition of society, perhaps, that the vulgar rich man's ambition for display should manifest itself in books and pictures, rather than in fast horses. Might not the cultivation of the garden--vegetables, fruits and flowers,--take the place of both, as simple means of display? These are wholesome and agreeable employments even for those who have passed that time of life when a taste for books and art may be acquired. A country seat should combine and express the real uses which are required by the intellectual and social condition of its occupants, and not attract attention as blazoning the wealth and money importance of the owner. If he is rich, let him make it as complete and simply elegant as he will, and this he may do without proclaiming to every passer-by his miserable pride of wealth. With these preliminary observations, we submit our work to the judgment of those who are interested in these subjects. We have not included in our present volume any considerable number of designs for the more spacious and costly Villa, the work being designed for popular use and to meet a demand which is unprovided for by previous publications. DESIGN No. 1. [Illustration: FIG. 1.--_Front Elevation._] [Illustration: FIG. 2.--_End Elevation._] This design as shown in figures 1 and 2, is for a laborer's cottage intended to be erected on the grounds connected with a fine estate on the western slope of the Palisades in New Jersey. It is to be built of rough stone, plainly finished. It is 16 by 24 feet outside, having a living-room with bed room on the first floor, (Fig. 3,) a large pantry, stairway, etc., and a fine cellar below. The second floor (Fig. 4,) has two bed-rooms, well lighted and ventilated, and large closets to each. This size will admit of several different arrangements; the rear door might open out from the pantry, and afford more convenient access to the cellar stairs, to get in heavy articles, and shut out some cold in winter, but would interfere with the fine ventilation so necessary in summer to a generally heated apartment, as a kitchen, dining, and living-room combined. A porch might be placed over the rear door, or better still, at a small additional expense, a summer-kitchen and wood-house might be added. A house of this accommodation is usually the first one put up by settlers on the western prairies. They are built of wood, balloon frame, with a plain pitch roof, without ornament. [Illustration: FIG. 3.--_First Floor._] [Illustration: FIG. 4.--_Second Floor._] The elevations as shown, give a greater variety than is usual in this class of building, and a house thus constructed may afterwards become a very pretty portion of a larger and more expensive structure. DESIGN No. 2. [Illustration: FIG. 5.--_Front Elevation._] [Illustration: FIG. 6.--_Side Elevation._] [Illustration: FIG. 7.--_First Floor._] The second design (Fig. 5,) is for a frame building giving more variety of outline. The plan (Fig. 7,) separates the sitting room from the kitchen and dining room, and insures more privacy. There is also a greater abundance of closets, though smaller. One of the bed rooms above might be divided into two, and thus increase the accommodation. A portion of the cellar may also be finished for a kitchen, and the living room used as a dining room. This plan admits of future additions being made without destroying the harmony or proportion of the building. To one of moderate means, such a mode of building presents some attractions, as it affords a house for immediate wants, to which additions may be made as one's means increase. Such houses, if tastefully furnished and embellished with suitable surroundings, as neat and well-kept grounds, fine trees, shrubbery, flowers, and climbing vines, will always attract more attention and admiration than the uninviting aspect of many more expensive structures. Money tastefully expended in this manner will always yield gratifying results. [Illustration: FIG. 8.--_Second Floor._] DESIGN No. 3. [Illustration: FIG. 9.--_Front Elevation._] [Illustration: FIG. 10.--_Side Elevation._] This design is similar, in some respects, to design No. 2, and gives, perhaps, the most compact arrangement of rooms for a building having so irregular an outline. Exteriorly considered, there is much to be admired in variety, and light and shadow, the different elevations being entirely unlike each other, and affording a constant change from every point of view; an object, we think, very much to be desired in cottage architecture, and when well managed never fails to make a pleasing impression. A high, bold appearance, without the overhanging eaves or depth of shadow, is not suitable for a country house; a feeling is created that something is wanting to make up the accessories of an agreeable habitation. [Illustration: FIG. 11.--_Basement Plan._] In this plan, (Fig. 11,) the kitchen is in the basement, convenient to the cellar, and with a good pantry attached to it. It is put there for the purpose of economizing in the construction. Our own preference is to put the kitchen in a well ventilated wing on a level with the main floor, and thus avoid, as much as possible, the necessity of running up and down stairs. This can be done at any future time when desired, as, indeed, can any addition of other rooms be made to meet the wants of an increasing family. A dumb waiter connects the kitchen with the dining room, and thus saves many steps. [Illustration: FIG. 12.--_First Floor._] The first floor (Fig. 12,) gives parlor, dining room, and a library, with a roomy vestibule, and a side door or private entrance, and supplies all the wants of a small family. The library might be used for a bed room. On the second floor (Fig. 13,) are 3 bed rooms with closets. The engravings are intended to tell their own story as far as possible, and but little explanation is necessary to make them fully comprehensible. In the matter of cost, one can hardly give a price that is reliable; the enormous advance in some building materials and slight advance in others, disarrange all old standards of estimating. Localities, of course, have much to do with the cost; yet, above all others, the business management must be considered. A good manager, thoroughly familiar with the qualities and values of materials, who knows how to direct labor to the best advantage, will execute work at a less cost than one who undertakes his own building without a previous training. [Illustration: FIG. 13.--_Second Floor._] DESIGN No. 4. This is a perspective view of a cottage, designed to afford a reasonable amount of accommodation for an average sized family, and which, if tastefully furnished, and fitted with suitable landscape surroundings, will convey a pleasing impression to all; much more so than dwellings of a more expensive class, where sufficient attention is not given to such accessories. [Illustration: FIG. 14.--_Perspective._] The plans of this house are compact, the rooms opening into each other in such a manner as to afford easy communication and economy in heating. The porch is spacious, and more pleasant than the long, narrow verandah. The supply of water for all purposes is from a filtering cistern, which is connected with the kitchen sink, by a pump. The entire house may be heated by a furnace, hot water, or steam, as is most preferable; or stoves may be used in nearly all the rooms, if first cost is to be closely considered. A passage underneath the staircase connects with the side door from the vestibule, and, with the exception of the library, all parts of the house are accessible without passing through other rooms. [Illustration: FIG. 15.--_Basement Floor._] [Illustration: FIG. 16.--_First Floor._] [Illustration: FIG. 17.--_Second Floor._] In the vicinity of large cities, and more particularly the city of New York, there are reasons which have a money value to them, why more attention should be given to suburban architecture, and why capitalists, as well as individuals, should undertake the construction of moderate-priced buildings, that shall command attention from the harmonious combination of fine architectural effects. It requires but a very limited experience to become aware of the fact, that dwellings of precisely the same cost, and similarly situated, will differ in their rental at least one half, and it is mainly owing to the reason that one is properly designed, and the other perhaps an amateur performance, modeled after the ill-proportioned Greek pediment style, too prevalent to be countenanced for a moment by any one who prides himself on his good taste. There can be no question that a fitly designed cottage, conveniently arranged, adds, independently of its own cost, a large per centage to the value of the acres which surround it, and is the point which arrests the eye and secures the purchaser. Rapid rail-road facilities, lower rents, more healthful localities, and the fact that the growth of this city "_Spuyten Duyvelward_" has reached a point beyond the convenient access of the strictly business man, necessarily turn the attention of those who look to the full measure of comfort, to a suburban life, ten to fifteen miles away from the unceasing noise and hurry of the city, where the business of the day is forgotten, and fresh air, fresh milk, butter and eggs, fruits, flowers, birds, &c., are luxuries unknown in town. Taking a strictly money view of building operations, for sale and rent, in suburban localities, and more particularly about New York, it would promise, by every course of reasoning, a remunerative return, if the plan were judiciously and tastefully carried out. The wants of the public, however, are so unequal, and their opinions so varied by the circumstances under which they are formed, that, unless an attractive beginning can be shown, very desirable property may remain a long time on the market. If we canvass real estate thoroughly, we shall find that property sells first, and at the best prices, which has ever so humble a cottage on it, a starting point in which one may temporarily reside, and lay out his plans of future operations; for the construction of a country place is of all things one with which to make haste slowly. With those actively engaged in business, and to whom time is every thing, there is no disposition to add the labor and annoyances of building; the demand is for a home ready for occupancy; the thought is entertained, and the wish gratified, simply because the opportunity presented itself; but it is far less trouble for young and middle-aged business men to stick to the city, than to give the time for building, particularly when they undertake their own architecture. Let capitalists invite them by snug, well-built, convenient, and tasteful cottages, and the demand will always be in advance of the supply, in all healthy localities, having rapid, reliable, and frequent communication with the city. [Illustration: FIG. 18.--_First Floor Enlarged._] DESIGN No. 5. A GARDENER'S COTTAGE. The accompanying design was made for William C. Bryant, Esq., by Fred'k S. Copley, Esq., Artist, Tompkinsville, Staten Island, and was erected on his beautiful estate at Roslyn, Long Island, in 1862. It stands on the hill above his residence, overlooking the bay from the village to the Sound, possessing one of the finest views on the Island. It was intended as a gardener's lodge, and to accommodate one or two families, as circumstances might require, (one on each floor,) giving each three rooms, and a joint right to the scullery, sink, and cellar. [Illustration: FIG. 19.--_Perspective View._] _Arrangement._--The first story is 9 feet in the clear throughout, with every convenience suitable for the health and comfort of the occupants. From the porch, a small hall, lighted from the roof, is entered, with doors on either hand, to parlor or living room, and staircase passage in front, communicating with the kitchen at the back, chambers above, and cellar beneath. [Illustration: FIG. 20.--_First Floor._] The chamber floor, second story, is 9 feet in the clear through the centre, and 6 feet at the sides, (from the floor to the plate,) the roof cutting off three feet of the ceiling at the sides at an angle of 45 degrees. This loss of a few feet of the ceiling is more than compensated by the cottage-like effect it gives to the rooms, harmonizing the inside with the external appearance. The two principal chambers are provided with fire-places and ample closet room. The one over the parlor has two closets, built outside the frame, and a door into the single room, over the porch, forming a most desirable family chamber. Both these rooms have ventilators in the same chimney breast, and the small one may be warmed by a stove leading thereto. The other has a large closet over the store-room for trunks, linen, &c. The attic room over the kitchen wing is intended for the domestics. [Illustration: FIG. 21.--_Chamber Floor._] By reference to the plans, it will be seen that every room is of good size and form, cheerfully lighted, thoroughly ventilated, and of easy access one to another, at the same time that privacy, so essential, is maintained throughout. _Construction._--The building is constructed of wood, vertically sided, and battened, (with 1-1/2 inch tongued and grooved pine plank,) with horizontal strips in line of the window sills and floors, to hide the buts, and small triangular pieces in the corners, which gives the pretty effect of paneling. The whole is stained by a mixture of oil, &c., that heightens the grain of the wood, and gives a brightness of color, and that cheerfulness of effect, so desirable in rural dwellings. The roof is of slate, in bands of purple and green, and the chimneys are surmounted by terra-cotta pots. The whole is filled in with brick. This cottage is built in a substantial and plain manner, with cellar under kitchen, cemented on the gravel the same as the cistern, and all the interior wood work is oiled and stained. As a specimen of cottage architecture, (on the smallest scale, lodge class,) it will rank as one of the best. For simplicity, variety of form, symmetry of proportion, with convenience of arrangement and economy of space and construction, it forms a model cottage, that any one might live in and many covet, besides being an addition to the landscape and an ornament to the grounds. DESIGN No. 6. STONE STABLE AND COACH HOUSE. [Illustration: FIG. 22.--_Perspective._] This design was erected on the Hudson, during the past year, of the beautiful rock faced stone so abundant between the Spuyten Duyvil and the Highlands, and is a good example of such a building as will meet the requirements of a moderately extensive establishment. It is conveniently arranged, enabling all the work to be done with the most ease, and gives thorough light and ventilation, so essential to the health and comfort of animals. The time has gone by to give prospective prices for anything, but we have seen the day when this building might have been erected for about $4,000. A room for the coachman may easily be made on the second floor, and the plan increased or decreased to suit the wants of any one. [Illustration: FIG. 23.--_Ground Plan._] DESIGN No. 7. A FARM COTTAGE. [Illustration: FIG. 24.--_Perspective View._] We show in this design a style of cottage which, in these high priced times of lumber and labor, can be erected at a very reasonable figure; and although prepared for a farm cottage, will admit of such changes as will adapt it to the wants of those who require a higher grade of accommodation. It is the most natural thing in the world for any one to take up a plan and suggest innumerable changes and additions, always forgetting the unalterable condition of price, situation, and object, which restrained the architect while working it up. To prepare a design regardless of expense is a very different matter from devising one that gives the largest amount of accommodation within a fixed limit of cost. We shall arrive gradually at the precise figures, and endeavor to get the accommodation wanted by some of our readers. [Illustration: FIG. 25.--_Cellar._] [Illustration: FIG. 26.--_First Floor._] [Illustration: FIG. 27.--_Second Floor._] It has been frequently observed that the gate lodges and farm cottages attached to large estates are generally more attractive in their architectural proportions and beauty than the mansion itself; and this has been usually attributed to the education of the proprietor's tastes, the cottages being the latest erections. This impression is not, however, always true; for there is a peculiar beauty and attractiveness about cottage architecture which can not be produced in buildings of a larger and more commodious class. Certain it is that a prettily designed cottage will always arrest attention. "Among the first and most pleasing impressions," says a late writer, "of our trite friend, the intelligent foreigner, as he entered England by the old Dover road, were those suggested by the little whitewashed and woodbined cottages which caught his eye at every turn. All books of travels on English ground are full of them. Snugly sheltered in its bower of apple trees, or more stately group of walnuts, approachable only by its rustic stairs, or dotted at neighborly distances along the straggling village, with its trim garden of lavender and wall flowers, seen through the wicket gate or over the privet hedge, the English cottage, above or below, near or in the distance, was alike the delight and envy of the traveler, the theme of the journalist and the poet. 'There is scarce a cottage,' says an American tourist just landed from America and France, 'between Dover and London which a poet might not be happy to live in. I saw a hundred little spots I coveted with quite a heart-ache.' Whether or not Rogers would have given up his picture-lighted snuggery in St. James' Place for his 'Cot beside the hill,' and really preferred to have his latch lifted by the pilgrim, instead of his knocker by a London footman, it is certain that the cottage homes of England that border the main roads have long possessed a beauty far beyond the houses in other lands belonging to classes much higher in the social scale, and have been coveted, sometimes not without reason, by those who could, if they chose, have purchased them fifty times over." DESIGN No. 8. This design for a timber cottage is simple and at the same time picturesque, and built upon a site adapted to it, and in harmony with the architectural expression, the effect could not fail to be in a high degree pleasing. [Illustration: FIG. 28.--_Perspective View._] It will be seen that some of the principal timbers of the frame are intended to show on the outside, and that there is a designed contrast between the horizontal siding extending to the top of the posts, and the vertical and battened covering of the pediment above the ornamental string course. The brackets and posts which support the roof of the porches, should be chamfered, and these timbers should be of sufficient thickness to avoid any appearance of meanness, while at the same time, they should not be too heavy, and so destroy the proportions of the design. [Illustration: FIG. 29.--_Cellar._] The roof should be covered with shingles having their ends clipped or rounded. [Illustration: FIG. 30.--_First Floor._] [Illustration: FIG. 31.--_Second Floor._] The cellar may be divided in such way as to serve the wants of the occupants. A portable furnace might be placed at the foot of the basement stairs, which would warm the rooms on the first floor, and temper the air of the chambers above. The interior accommodations and conveniences are readily seen on inspection of the plans--(Figs. 30. 31). There is no waste of room, and for the uses of a small family, the accommodations would be found as ample as could well be obtained in a cottage of such size and cost. DESIGN No. 9.--RURAL CHURCH. DESIGNED BY THE REV. DR. CRESSY. This design is intended for a church which is to occupy a beautiful and commanding site on the western shore of Lake George, in the midst of the original forest, and is now in process of erection. It will also meet the requirements of several correspondents who have requested plans for rural churches which could be erected as economically and cheaply as possible, with due regard to proportion, fitness and beauty of expression. This design will be found to comprehend, we may say, in an eminent degree, variety of outline, correctness of detail, force of expression and purity of taste, with simplicity of execution, and in those parts of the country where lumber is abundant, and labor not exorbitant, it can be erected at a low cost. [Illustration: FIG. 32.--_Perspective._] We have a right to congratulate ourselves on the improvement which the last quarter of a century has witnessed among our people in the building and adorning of our edifices devoted to Christian worship. Downing, in his time, said, "that the ugliest church architecture in Christendom, is at this moment to be found in the country towns and villages of the United States." And speaking of the influence of what our churches should be, in the beauty of their proportions, and in the expression of the sacred purposes which they embody, and the feelings of reverence and harmony with God and man which they suggest, he fitly says--"We fear there are very few country churches in our land that exert this kind of spell,--a spell which grows out of making stone, and brick, and timber, obey the will of the living soul, and express a religious sentiment. Most persons, most committees, select men, vestrymen, and congregations, who have to do with the building of churches, appear indeed wholly to ignore the fact, that the form and feature of a building may be made to express religious, civil, domestic, or a dozen other feelings, as distinctly as the form and features of the human face:--and yet this is a fact as well known by all true architects, as that joy and sorrow, pleasure and pain, are capable of irradiating or darkening the countenance. Yes, and we do not say too much, when we add, that right expression in a building for religious purposes, has as much to do with awakening devotional feelings, and begetting an attachment in the heart, as the unmistakable signs of virtue and benevolence in our fellow-creatures have in awakening kindred feelings in our own breasts. [Illustration: FIG. 33.--_Floor Plan._] "We do not, of course, mean to say that a beautiful rural church will make all the population about it devotional, any more than that sunshine will banish gloom; but it is one of the influences that prepare the way for religious feeling, and which we are as unwise to neglect, as we should be to abjure the world and bury ourselves, like the ancient troglodytes, in caves and caverns." Happily we are coming to appreciate these truths, not only in our cities, but in the country, and the ugly, unsightly, and unseemly structures which have so long deformed the land are giving place to edifices in which the true ideas of harmony, grace, proportion, symmetry and expression, which make what we call Beauty, are brought out in due proportion. The church we present is designed to be of wood, the country about the site affording an abundance of that material, at the lowest cost. An inspection of the design will show that the principal timbers of the frame are intended to be visible externally,--the weather-boarding being set back from the face of the posts and beams. This exterior covering is intended to be made of sound _rough_ plank, from ten to fourteen inches wide, and at least one and a-half inches thick. These are to be tongued and grooved, so as to make a close joint, and nailed to the frame in a _vertical_ manner. The joint is to be covered with a narrow strip, or batten, of one and a-half inch plank. These unplaned plank may be painted with two good coats and sanded, or they may be left to take such tints and complexion as time and the weather may give them. Lumber, at the proposed site, being cheaper and more easily obtained than lime, the interior of the church will be neatly ceiled with narrow boards, which will be lightly stained and oiled. The roof will be "open timber" of simple construction. All the wood work of the interior will be of pine, smoothly planed, stained and oiled, without paint, except the ceiling of the roof which should be colored, in order to give something like warmth of tone to the interior, the lack of which is often sadly felt in our country churches, particularly. This mode of weather-boarding and "open timber" finish is now so common that a more particular description is unnecessary. This church will seat, comfortably, about two hundred persons. Its cost will depend entirely upon the price of lumber and labor, of course, and these vary with different localities, and are particularly uncertain at this time. We will only add that it will cost no more to build with correct proportions and in good taste, than in disregard and defiance of these desirable and commendable principles. DESIGN No. 10. [Illustration: FIG. 34.--_Perspective._] We give below a somewhat different example of Cottage Architecture, of a form that is compact and every way available, at the same time affording every convenience in the arrangement of rooms desirable for a family of refined tastes and moderate means. This cottage may be built of wood, or, better still, in favorable localities, of brick or stone, and if suitably surrounded with tasteful landscape embellishments, will make a snug, pretty, and attractive home. One can, by the exercise of appropriate taste, produce the right kind of an impression in a house of this character. It should become a part of, and belong to the acres which surround it; it should be an indispensable accessory to the place itself, and the grounds should be laid out and embellished in such a manner that the whole combination impresses all with harmonious beauty, and not, as is too frequently the case, seek to make up the wretched deficiencies in the grounds by elaborate expenditure and display about the house. A true appreciation of country life will not tolerate slovenly, ill-kept grounds, and no house exhibits its true value unless there is a harmony in its surroundings. If this be attended to, a high degree of effect can be produced in houses of very moderate cost; houses that shall be roomy, warm, substantial, and in every way agreeable to their occupants. [Illustration: FIG. 35.--_Basement Plan._] The plans show the arrangement of rooms, and these can be made larger or smaller, or be differently disposed, to suit almost any fancy. In this design the kitchen apartments are below stairs; in future plans we shall give some with kitchen, laundry, etc., on the principal floor; or they can be readily added to this plan. The cost of a house is the one thing desirable; every one asks for it, and yet every one within our knowledge who has built a house himself at a stated price has been sadly deceived. Close specifications are very dry reading, and not appropriate here, and it is questionable how much service they would be to any but professional builders. It is reasonable to suppose, that if one without building experience undertakes it, he will have to pay something additional for the knowledge he will gain. If he places it to the proper account, then we can not be accused of misleading him. [Illustration: FIG. 36.--_First Floor._] [Illustration: FIG. 37.--_Second Floor._] Most men contemplate, at some period of life, the construction of a dwelling-house, but few deem it necessary to study their wants or prepare their plans until they have selected their site and made all other arrangements for building, and then proceed with all possible haste to plan a home. That which should have been the study of months or years, is hurried through in as many days, imperfectly done at the best, and the cause of frequent annoying and expensive changes after the work has commenced. It is true, that the site has very much to do with the distribution of rooms, but any ingenious architect can readily adapt a proper combination of rooms to suit the exposures and views of a particular site. It would be vastly better for those who prefer to arrange their own plan of rooms, (and there are but very few who do not,) that they take abundant time to consider well every thing relating to them; and although the hope of building may be very remote, it should not be considered time lost to begin to give one's thoughts a definite form of what he thinks a house should be; for if nothing else results, it may furnish a valuable hint for a friend, and will certainly enlarge one's information and experience in these matters. Almost every one is capable, with such hints as have been freely given in the volumes of the HORTICULTURIST, in the leading papers which treat on rural art, and the numerous valuable publications on rural architecture, to make such a combination of rooms as will best suit his peculiar wants, tastes, or fancies, and then, with the aid of an architect, it can readily be freed from mechanical impracticabilities, and put into a proportionate and harmonious form. Architecture, both in design and construction, is a profession that requires long years of study and practice to develop an expert, and those who really want a good thing at the least cost, usually seek such assistance; those who prefer to do their own designing and building, find out with absolute certainty the most expensive modes of erecting very ugly and ill-proportioned structures. DESIGN No. 11. A SUBURBAN SUMMER HOUSE. [Illustration: FIG. 38.] In the adornment of ornamental grounds, some considerable attention has been given to summer houses, and similar structures; but these have been mainly _rustic_ in their design and finish, and in this respect well adapted to their purpose and surroundings. The good taste of these structures will not be called in question. There are locations, however, in the more immediate vicinity of our large cities, where a style less rustic would seem to be more in harmony with the architecture which is found to prevail. We refer to residences on the outskirts of our large cities, with inclosures containing a few city lots. Here the architecture, so far from being rural, is, on the contrary, stiff, sharp, and sometimes very ornate. A rustic summer house in such a place would be an incongruity. A rustic house is in itself a beautiful object; but there is a certain charm in association which can not be widely departed from without doing violence to our conceptions of the fitness of things; and hence a purely rustic house without rural surroundings is destitute of the chief elements which give rise to the beautiful. Most persons would say it was out of place. The design herewith presented was prepared to meet the requirements of such a case; it is consequently somewhat elaborate. It is located on a small plot of ground within the city limits, and in full view from three streets. The grounds are laid out with a few rectangular walks, and such shrubs as the small size of the place would admit of. The house, we think corresponds with its surroundings. Its faults, if any, are a little too much ornament, but something of this kind seemed to be required in the absence of that more beautiful ornamentation produced by the drapery of Nature. The house is so located that it receives the morning sun for a few hours, but during the rest of the day is in the shade; it therefore constitutes a pleasant place of retreat for the family at all hours, and is used by the children freely as a play house. The floor is laid in narrow stuff, and is elevated a foot above the ground for the sake of dryness. Easy seats, a handsome centre table, and a hanging lamp complete the interior. Venetian blinds afford ample protection on a misty day or a chilly night, or admit the soft summer breeze on a hot and sultry eve.--_Horticulturist._ DESIGN No. 12. STABLE AND CARRIAGE HOUSE. This stable affords abundant accommodation for three horses, with carriage house, feed room, and a large harness room on the first floor, while the loft above may contain a coachman's room, and leave ample space for hay and straw. If required, a shed and cow house can be extended on the side opposite the carriage house, thus adding considerably to the effect of the external appearance. Under the stable there should be a cellar for the storage of roots for feed, and, if desirable, the winter stock of vegetables for household use. This stable may be built of wood, or of stone or brick. [Illustration: FIG. 39.--_Stable._] [Illustration: FIG. 40.--_Stable Plan._] DESIGN No. 13. This design is intended to cover, at a low cost, as much comfort and convenience as a moderate-sized family would require, and to distribute the same as much as possible on one floor. The cellar or basement kitchen is dispensed with and only enough cellar room provided to meet the wants of those who occupy suburban places of a few acres in extent. Where large quantities of vegetables are stored, or where cellar room is required for farm purposes, we think it better to build cellars separate from the residence, (an arrangement much more healthful, as well as convenient and desirable.) For the preservation in warm weather of meats, milk, and other perishable articles, a refrigerator, or, better still, an ice closet, can be set up at one end of the laundry. This can be supplied with ice through an outside door, and is infinitely better and more convenient than any cellar or spring house. The kitchen is without a fire-place, but is provided with a ventilator in the chimney near the ceiling. The cooking may be done by a stove, which, if properly contrived, is one of the most effective ventilators, and preferred by many housekeepers for all kitchen purposes. Or a range can be placed in the chimney, if desirable, or a fire-place, if it should be considered indispensable. [Illustration: FIG. 41.--_Elevation._] [Illustration: FIG. 42.--_Plan._] A door under the stair-way separates the front and rear halls, and disconnects the kitchen apartments from the rest of the house. All the doors opening into the rear hall should be hung with the new spiral spring butt, the best door spring that has come under our notice. It is entirely concealed, and works without a fault. The closets in the dining room are finished to give an interior appearance of a bay window. The dining room and the two chambers above, are intended to be heated by a fire-place heater set in the chimney, thus warming three rooms, at pleasure, with one fire. A small stove in the library will keep that comfortable. Or, in place of all this, the whole house may be heated by any of the approved modes, in the use of hot air, hot water, or steam. [Illustration: FIG. 43.--_First Floor._] The library, parlor, or general living room in a country house--and we like these rooms in one--should have the cheerful, healthful luxury of an open fire-place, and we know of no more elegant, cleanly and effective contrivance for this purpose than Dixon's low down, Philadelphia Grate, in which wood, coal, or any other fuel can be used equally well. The advantages combined in this grate are these:--the fire flat on the hearth, and radiating the heat from an oval cast iron backing: cold air supplied from below, and ashes, dirt, &c., shaken down into an ash-pit in the cellar, beneath the grate. We speak confidently of this invention, after a trial of two winters, and do not hesitate to say that, compared with this, the ordinary grate is worthless. Large rooms can be kept perfectly comfortable in the coldest weather, without heat from any other source. [Illustration: FIG. 44.--_Second Floor._] This house is supplied with a cistern, constructed with the utmost care, ten feet in diameter, and ten feet deep, holding 6,000 gallons of water. The roof is of slate, and the rain-water is therefore of great purity, free from color, and the woody taste usually imparted to it by falling on a shingle roof. At the laundry sink is one of West's lift and force pumps, which draws the water from the cistern. This pump is a simple and effective affair, and works with remarkable ease, is always in order, and may be considered one of the best pumps known. We have given it a thorough trial, and speak from personal knowledge. On one side of the laundry sink there is also one of Kedzie's large size rain-water filters, which holds several pails full of water, and which we commend as an admirable contrivance for the purposes intended. It possesses every merit claimed for it, and after more than a year's use, the water drawn from it is of such crystal purity and sweetness as to attract the attention of all to whom it is offered. No well has been dug or contemplated on the premises connected with this cottage. About one-half the cost of a well has been expended upon a slate roof, a large and carefully-constructed cistern, West's pump and Kedzie's filter--the other half has been safely invested in U. S. 7-30's, and instead of hoisting water fifty feet, for household, garden, and stable uses, the turn of a croton water tap is not more easy and convenient, and the finest flow of a silver spring of soft water, is not more beautiful than that delivered by West's pump and Kedzie's filter, which supplies for all purposes of the cottage, stable, and garden, water unsurpassed in its pleasant and wholesome properties. Those who seek the most convenient and reliable modes of procuring the purest and sweetest water, will find this to be the least costly and the most satisfactory. For a compact, convenient cottage, with every facility for doing the work of the household, with the least number of steps--in which all the essential modern conveniences are introduced, without the modern prices attached--for a low-priced, elegant cottage, we do not know of any plan more appropriate than this. In the construction of this house a bay-window was introduced in front, in the parlor, (Fig. 43.) and the veranda was made half octagon. These alterations add much to exterior appearance, as well as to the capacity of the parlor. On the side of the parlor and dining room an addition is contemplated, which will relieve the apparent want of variety which now exists, and essentially improve the external appearance. DESIGN No. 14. [Illustration: FIG. 45.--_Cottage Stable._] [Illustration: FIG. 46.--_Plan._] Fig. 45 shows a design for a cottage stable, giving accommodations for a horse and cow, two carriages, one or two wagons, and two tons of hay. The main building is so proportioned, that three more stalls may be added, and it may then become the wing of a larger building, to be used for carriage room and other purposes. For those who keep but one horse and cow, this design affords abundant room. DESIGN No. 15. ICE HOUSE. It is only within a few years that ice, in all seasons, has been classed among the necessaries of life. In large cities it is indispensable, but the cool spring-house or cellar in the country impresses many with the idea that ice, in summer months, can only be regarded as a luxury. Along with other conveniences in keeping with this progressive age, the ice-house has its place, and a country-seat of any pretensions is not complete without it. It is simple in construction, and can be built very cheaply of rough materials, or made as elaborate as is desirable. It forms a pretty feature about the grounds, if treated with some architectural taste. [Illustration: FIG. 47.--_Ice House._] [Illustration: FIG. 48.--_Ground Plan._] [Illustration: FIG. 49.--_Perspective._] DESIGN No. 16. This design, with the accompanying plans sufficiently explain themselves without minute description. The arrangement, as will be seen upon examination, secures a very large amount of accommodation, with good sized rooms, and ample store and closet conveniences. The building is compact, and at the same time presents a pleasing variety in its exterior appearance. By carrying up the library, two dressing rooms, for the two principal chambers, may be secured. When one contemplates building, and has put his thoughts and wishes into a tangible form, the leading question asked is, how much will all this cost? for what price in dollars and cents, without extras or additional charges of any kind, can this dwelling be erected in a good and workmanlike manner, in accordance with plans and specifications, and satisfactory to the owner? This is precisely the plain English of what a business man wants to know; for we hold that it is right and proper, that every one should look right through all the connected links and complications that require a considerable expenditure of money, and see that he lands carefully in the place anticipated. To start with the intention of disbursing $5,000, and wind up with an expenditure of $12,000, is not only annoying in a money point of view, but an impeachment of one's judgment and good sense, not pleasant to hear outsiders reflect on; for however much one might wish to shift the responsibility on others, it is one of those things that time will always place where it belongs. As long as men consider the arts of designing and constructing buildings to be of no special importance, or that they are qualified, without instruction or experience, to practice them, expensive blunders will naturally result, and sooner or later it will be discovered that such wisdom is dearly bought. There are many, however, who prefer to manage their building affairs thus, and who can only learn more agreeable and less expensive modes by actual experience; some do it from ignorance, some from supposed economy, and others from the supposition that they are best qualified. The design for a house or other building, and a plan of the interior arrangement of each floor, prepared by a professional man who makes such things the business of his life, is now very generally admitted by intelligent men to be essential; but the management or superintendence of the work by the party who has studied and designed it, does not seem quite so apparent. An architect prepares the drawings for a dwelling to cost $5,000; now whether it actually will cost $5,000, $8,000 or $10,000, in the hands of another superintendent, is an unanswered problem. A prevailing folly which we find very general, is to suppose that all men can build the same house, in all places, for precisely the same amount of money; and but few are willing to admit that they, of all others, are not the most competent to carry through the whole business of building at the lowest figure. Some must find out in the most expensive manner, that the profession of an architect, or the skill of a builder, can only be attained by long years of careful application. [Illustration: FIG. 50.--_Basement Plan._] [Illustration: FIG. 51.--_First Floor._] What a house will cost to build is a question always asked with the utmost simplicity, and a prompt and reliable answer always expected, and if not forthcoming at once, gives rise to a suspicion that one's professional ability is not of the most thorough character. There are so many conditions to govern results in house building, that even an approximate estimate may fall very wide of the mark. Two houses may be built from the same plan, and we may also say, from the same specifications; one by day's work, and the other by contract, and they shall be so exactly alike in all respects when finished, that an unprofessional observer would detect no difference, and yet one may honestly cost just double the amount in money expended on the other; even the same builder may build two houses precisely alike in all respects, and yet the cost be quite unequal. On one site stone may be easily obtained, a sand bank on the premises, a running brook close at hand, saw mills, brick yards, and lime kilns within moderate distances and accessible by good roads. The other site may be quite the reverse in situation, or have some decided disadvantages in obtaining some very necessary materials. We once built a fine stone house where stone was abundant and close at hand, but all the lumber and brick had to be hauled thirteen miles over hilly roads; the cost of that house has nothing to do with the cost of a similar house in a different locality. [Illustration: FIG. 52.--_Second Floor._] A competent business superintendent has a great deal to do with the cost of a house; one that understands all the tricks of every building trade, that knows the market well, and the value and quality of all building materials, and where inferior workmanship and materials can be used to an equal advantage with those of first class. To slight work and yet do it justice; to give it all the strength and endurance necessary, requires one of skillful acquirements. A mechanic may persuade a proprietor into many a long day's work, as it pays well to nurse good jobs when other work is slack, but an architect who understands such things would save the value of useless work. The cost of a house depends on a well-studied plan; this plan does not consist alone in the arrangement of rooms, windows, doors, etc., but involves a careful study of the anatomy of construction. One may save by a proper distribution of timbers, as well as make a very great saving by the arrangement of rooms. Good management is of the greatest importance, not only as a matter of economy, but as securing the best class of workmanship, and the most judicious use of materials. Good or bad management produces the same results in building operations as in war or any other pursuit. One takes up a capital work on rural architecture, written perhaps ten or fifteen years ago, before the general introduction of furnaces, steam pipes, gas, baths, marble basins, etc.; they find a house that suits them, which the book says will cost $6,000, and that is just the amount, by close figuring, that can be raised for building. The house is ordered, put in the hands of the best mechanic to finish all complete, and he goes ahead; he is unrestricted except by the book, and the author of it is a man of reputation. In the way of details perhaps nothing has been said; they are therefore extravagant in the use of materials, and elaborate in workmanship; as it is not considered good policy for a workman who has a good order, to make suggestions calculated to decrease the amount of work. When the bills to the amount of $6,000 have been settled, the house is found to be half finished, and an additional $6,000 is necessary to complete it; less that one year's interest of which would have amply sufficed to secure the services of one who has spent the best years of his life to learn how to design and to manage work to cost a specified price. When an architect says a house can be built for a certain price, it is to be understood that materials delivered on the ground shall not exceed an average cost, that the payments made are to be in cash, and that he manages the work. To hold an architect responsible or blame him for blunders in the cost of work that he designed and did not superintend, is manifestly unjust, yet it is a frequent occurrence. The cost of work is a question easily answered, when one is fully acquainted with all its bearings and has it under his control, but no one can say at what price a novice in building operations can execute it. DESIGN No. 17. [Illustration: FIG. 53.--_Stable._] [Illustration: FIG. 54.--_Stable Plan._ (_Reversed._)] Fig. 53 is a design for a cottage stable, with stalls for two horses, and the necessary carriage room and other conveniences. This design, in its exterior, presents as great a degree of variety in the combinations of form and shadow as the price will admit of. It answers the purposes of comfortable protection and convenience, as well or even better than the most costly structures. A horse needs a dry, well-ventilated apartment, and enjoys fresh air, daylight, and sunlight as well as human beings. Unless these very inexpensive wants are provided, no compensation is afforded by elaborate detail and workmanship. DESIGN No. 18. SCHOOL HOUSE AT IRVINGTON, ON THE HUDSON. Our architectural series would be by no means complete if devoted entirely to dwellings; and as the resources of an extensive professional practice in the arts which embellish and beautify our country may be largely made use of, we present here a design for another class of buildings. A school-house is not a building which every one contemplates erecting, and yet a large proportion are, or ought to be, interested in developing in structures of this class such architectural principles as shall make their impressions in early life, and influence future tastes. [Illustration: FIG. 55.--_School House._] This building is designed to accommodate about fifty scholars, being 25 by 40 feet, with a front projection 10 by 18 feet. In the basement a large furnace and abundant accommodation for coal. The main floor is divided into school-room, two recitation rooms, hat and coat room, wash closet with sink, and water closet, above which is a large tank, supplied from the roof. An outside cistern supplies cool drinking-water, the purest and healthiest water known, and renders the use of ice unnecessary in summer. The height of all these ceilings is nearly fourteen feet, and each room is thoroughly ventilated; the belfry is provided with a one hundred pound bell; indeed, nothing has been left undone that is calculated to promote the health and comfort of the pupils. The partition between the doors to the recitation rooms is made in sections, and can be easily removed, thus making one large room for exhibition and lecture purposes. The stage, in this case is to be placed at the left end of the room. The capacity of the building can be nearly doubled by occupying the entire floor as a school-room, and building an addition 12 by 24 feet directly in the rear, opposite to the front projection, for recitation rooms. The situation of this building at Irvington, on the Hudson, some twenty-five miles above the city of New York, is in a charming, healthy, and delightful locality; one made famous by the pen and residence of Washington Irving, and noted for its magnificent scenery, its views of river and mountain, and the fine taste displayed in landscape and architectural embellishments by those who have made their homes in this vicinity. We have always thought that those educational institutions possess the most attractions that are so situated that all surroundings shall have a favorable influence; and there is nothing like example in early training. Bring up and educate a boy among those who know nothing of the refinements of life, away from the progressive examples of art and taste, in a tumble-down, unplastered, ill-heated and ventilated apartment, and he never can become, with all the aid of books and teachers, as thoroughly cultivated and fitted for the duties of life, as one who has enjoyed associations of a higher order. School architecture has a meaning in it; there is value in proportion, harmony, beauty, light and shade, as applied to school buildings, that is not comprehended by all. A recent writer says better than we can say it, that "It is the duty of teachers, as well as parents and school committees, to see that the circumstances under which children study are such as shall leave a happy impression upon their minds; for whatever is brought under the frequent observation of the young must have its influence upon their susceptible natures for good or evil. Shabby school-houses induce slovenly habits. Ill-constructed benches may not only distort the body, but, by reflex influence, the mind as well. Conditions like these seldom fail to disgust the learner with his school, and neutralize the best efforts of his teachers. On the other hand, neat, comfortable places for study may help to awaken the associations enchaining the mind and the heart to learning and virtuous instruction with links of gold brightening forever." [Illustration: FIG. 56.--_Principal Floor._] [Illustration: FIG. 57.--_Perspective View._] DESIGN No. 19. This design was prepared for erection in the vicinity of Goshen, Orange Co., N. Y., and the accommodation limited to a price not exceeding ----. It presents in hall, verandas, and large parlor, some of the very necessary attractions of a country house, and is a good example of what can be done for a limited sum. While the plan is a parallelogram, and the roof free from hips and valleys, the general arrangement is such as to show considerable variety in outline, and one, we think, that will have a pleasing effect. Such houses, erected in the vicinity of New York, and many of our large cities, would add a large value to the ground they stand on, and pay a handsome rate of interest on their cost; better than any other class of building investments, as the supply is in nowise equal to the demand. It is so simple a matter, with present prompt and rapid railroad facilities, to invite a fair proportion of the young business men of our large cities to make their homes in the adjoining country, that we wonder capitalists and real estate owners do not more frequently make money for themselves and others by erecting tasteful, low-priced suburban homes. In former times, a house of this class erected in the country, would be painted exteriorly a pure white, with no relief, except probably in the violent contrast of bright green venetian blinds to the windows. This sort of taste unfortunately still remains, although in the progress of rural taste and art, the country is much improved in this respect. [Illustration: FIG. 58.--_Cellar._] There is a variety of colors, known as neutral tints, which are suitable for exteriors, and the effect produced by them is altogether pleasing, while a house painted white can never be an agreeable object in any landscape, however admirable its architectural proportions and finish may be. The tone of color for a house will depend upon its size, form, and situation, and it often requires a nice and cultivated eye to determine what would be most appropriate and effective. [Illustration: FIG. 59.--_First Floor._] For such a house as this, we should choose a light fawn color--not yellow--and paint the cornice, window-frames and other projecting and ornamental parts two or three shades darker than the body of the building. This will give a depth of shadow and expression which cannot be obtained in any other way. Large houses, with massive features of construction, will bear to be painted with darker colors, but they should not be too sombre, so as to give a gloomy appearance to the house. The country, with its bright sunshine, its rich adornments of flowers, and its numberless forms of beauty and grace, is eminently cheerful. It often happens that the painter does all he can to mar this cheerfulness and beauty, by startling contrasts of colors, and by destroying the harmony which pervades the landscape. [Illustration: FIG. 60.--_Second Floor._] DESIGN No. 20. A COUNTRY CHAPEL. [Illustration: FIG. 61.--_Perspective._] We present in this design a plan for a substantial and permanent chapel, having capacity for seating about four hundred. For the purpose for which it was designed, no distinct chancel was required. Such a chancel could be arranged, if desired, in a recess taken off the lecture or class room in the rear of the chapel. It could be lighted at the roof, or on the sides. [Illustration: FIG. 62.--_Ground Plan._] This chapel, built of stone throughout, with an open timber roof and stained glass windows, would be an ornament to any country locality, and a credit to the taste and liberality of those who built it. Every thing about such a chapel should be _real_, and no suspicion of sham or unreality should be tolerated in any part of the work. The practice of building the fronts of churches of stone, while the side and rear walls are constructed of rough brick, painted and marked off to resemble the stone, is very common, we know, both in town and country, but it is a species of deceit and false pretence which ought not to be. If the best and costliest material cannot be used for the entire structure, let the rougher and inferior material be fairly shown, in every part. If the means and liberality of the parish cannot provide oak or walnut for the interior finish, let the wood work be plainly painted, or what is better still, simply oiled, but there should be no cunning deception of graining, to represent the costlier wood. It is not _honest_, and, we take it, a church, built for religious worship, is the last place that should betray our human meanness and want of honesty. DESIGN No. 21. We show in this design what can be done with a substantial old farm house; how easily and beautifully it can be changed into a suburban home of elegant exterior, and comfortable and convenient interior appointments. [Illustration: FIG. 63.--_View of the House at the time of Purchase._] [Illustration: FIG. 64.--_The same remodeled._] This class of spacious and substantial farm houses, with the gambrel, curb, or Mansard roof, as shown in Fig. 63, is very numerous about the suburbs of New York City, and more particularly in the "neighboring province of New Jersey," where one finds them nestled in the valleys or by the road side, as best fitting to the taste of our early Dutch settlers, who prized seclusion and protection above bleak exposure and far-reaching views. [Illustration: FIG. 65.] As a general thing, the better class of New Jersey farm houses of this type were built of squared and hammered red sand-stone, laid up in regular courses, and in many instances the character of the work differed on all sides, the front being the most finely finished. And in many of the most pretentious of these houses, brick was substituted for the front, as being less common. There is, perhaps, nothing more difficult in an architect's experience than to make a fine thing out of a subject so destitute of beauty of form or proportion, and yet preserve the substantial walls and other belongings, that have stood for half a century, and are now stronger, and promise a durability that exceeds those of other houses built in this progressive age; and yet here is a "presto change" that will almost defy the keen eyes of the old settlers to recognize any trace of the ancient landmark that for fifty years has overlooked the beautiful valley of the Tenakill. [Illustration: FIG. 66.] There are very many of these old houses that are equally well adapted to wear a modern face, though but few purchasers can look through all such changes with the eye of a professional expert, and select that to which, at a low price, a certain beauty can be added, which, when done, shall indicate the wisdom of their choice. First impressions many times are sadly against all hopes of success. "With weather-stains upon the wall, And stairways worn, and crazy doors, And creaking and uneven floors, And chimneys huge, and tiled and tall." But these difficulties are the least troublesome to adjust, if the walls are good, and ceilings of a fair modern height. It may then be a better choice to adapt such a house to the present cultivated tastes and requirements, than to build anew from the foundation. In the plans, the dotted lines show the centers of the old partitions. Six feet have been added to the length of the wing, thus improving the kitchen accommodations. This house is situated some fifteen miles from the great commercial metropolis, on one of the new lines of Railroad, and in a locality of easy access to New York business men. DESIGN No. 22. [Illustration: FIG. 67.--_Stable._] [Illustration: FIG. 68.--_Plan._] This stable may be constructed either of wood, or of stone. It contains stalls for four horses, and affords space for their accommodation, together with a harness room and a tool closet. This latter is a convenience very essential to the comfort of the owner, as well as to the proper care and preservation of such implements as belong especially to the carriage house and stable. This building should be surrounded and screened with fruit trees and shrubbery, and then, with its evident architectural effects, it will become an attractive feature in the landscape of which it becomes a part, with the other accessories of the elegant country home. DESIGN No. 23. FENCES. In spite of all laws to the contrary, cattle will intrude upon one's property, and each and all must at great expense build and maintain fences for their own protection. There has not as yet been devised any practicable mode by which the enormous sums annually spent in fencing might be saved. The theory advanced, that it is cheaper for each to fence his cattle in, than to fence his neighbor's out, has not as yet been practically illustrated, if we except a few suburban localities. [Illustration: FIG. 69.] [Illustration: FIG. 70.] Fig. 69 represents a substantial fence, with a paneled base, of simple construction, and yet quite effective in appearance. In Fig. 70 the work is somewhat more elaborate, while the base is of stone, or brick. Each engraving shows two panels, with a gate in the centre. With chestnut or cedar posts, the pickets cut from 1-1/2 inch plank, and the whole kept painted, such a fence would last many years. DESIGN No. 24. RESIDENCE OF CHARLES F. PARK, ESQ. This residence of which we show only the floor plans, occupies a commanding position on the northern end of the Palisades, on the western side of the Hudson, some twenty miles above the city of New York, the river, mountain, and inland views from which are exceedingly fine, embracing the villages of Dobbs' Ferry, Irvington, Tarrytown, Sing Sing, Piermont, Nyack, and Tappan, as well as Tappan Zee and Haverstraw Bay, the distant Highlands of the Hudson, and the beautiful valleys of the Sparkill and the Hackensack, a section of country rich in historic associations, and highly appreciated by those who seek suburban homes. [Illustration: FIG. 71.--_First Floor._] [Illustration: FIG. 72.--_Second Floor._] [Illustration: FIG. 73.--_Third Floor._] This house was designed principally for a summer residence, being nearly fifty feet square, with wide halls and spacious verandah, and commodious and well ventilated sleeping apartments, the plans showing the arrangement of rooms. The style of architecture selected is that generally known as the Rural Gothic, which, perhaps, is the most useful and most beautiful of any that are adapted to the requirements of our climate. The almost square form of the plan is one of the most difficult to treat successfully in this style, yet has been carried out in the most satisfactory manner. This style admits of an almost never-ending variety of form and proportion, and in effects of light and shadow at all hours of day is unequaled. Its comparative expense but little exceeds the hipped and Mansard roofs. The building is constructed in the most thorough and workman-like manner, and is as well adapted for a winter residence as for summer. The frame is built in the balloon style, (the strongest known form of framing,) with deep studding filled in with brick, having double air chambers, is thoroughly finished throughout, is covered with a slate roof, and fulfills all the requirements of a substantial and commodious country residence. DESIGN No. 25. CARRIAGE HOUSE AND STABLE. The accompanying design for a carriage house and stable affords about the same amount of accommodation as Design 22. The arrangement, however, is somewhat different, and the exterior quite unlike it. In this plan the portion appropriated to the stalls is more ample, and the means for ventilation abundant. [Illustration: FIG. 74.--_Stable._] [Illustration: FIG. 75.--_Stable Plan._] DESIGN No. 26. RESIDENCE OF THOS. H. STOUT, ESQ., IRVINGTON, ON THE HUDSON. Irvington is a noted locality for the higher grades of country homes, there being many fine examples of substantial, roomy, and elegantly appointed mansions. Far within the gradually extending circle which limits the daily intercourse of the business man to the city of New York, it has become, in virtue of its position, healthfulness, fine scenery, and ease of access, one of the most favored of the suburbs of this city; a city whose rapid increase of population and corresponding decreasing comforts in conveyance from one portion to another, is turning the attention of those who like ease of transit, and the quiet and health of the country, to a residence among its beautiful and attractive suburbs. What the last ten years have accomplished in introducing rapid and reliable communication, and building up and improving the country about New York, will probably be repeated several times over in the next decade. An impetus has been given to rural life, that will increase with every facility that is offered, and it will not be many years before the suburbs of New York will compare with any city in the world; and we question, even now, if elsewhere can be found a suburban locality comparable with the east bank of the Hudson, from New York to the Highlands. [Illustration: FIG. 76.--_Residence of Thos. H. Stout, Esq., Irvington, on the Hudson._] The accompanying engravings illustrate a country house that embraces many of the best features of exterior variety, and interior compactness and convenience. The workmanship and materials throughout have been of the best description, and no pains have been spared to make it first class in every respect. Situated on the slope of the eastern bank of the Hudson, it overlooks the broad expanse of "Tappan Zee," and commands the views peculiar to this locality, that reach from the Highlands to the ocean. To build well, and to do so at a low price, is always desirable; and to build artistically, imposingly, attractively, does not imply elaborate finish or profuse ornament. Sand paper and decoration will never make an ill-proportioned building attractive to an educated taste, while a rough exterior of harmonious lines and forms will pass current with those who have an eye to the artistic. One of the most important lessons that the art student learns is that of effect; that effects can not be produced by smoothly finished surfaces or details; and that in architecture, as well as in sculpture or painting, there must be a strong bold manner of execution, when there is a desire to convey an impression of strength or power. [Illustration: FIG. 77.--_Cellar._] Where stone is conveniently obtained as a building material, its use in rural architecture deserves far more consideration than is usually bestowed on it; and in its unchiselled, quarried form it becomes desirable in an economical point of view. There is an imposing grandeur in the unhewn stone that asserts its presence in both near and distant views, and, with the proper combinations of proportion, and light and shade, will illustrate the finest architectural effects. Prevailing prejudices are too apt to consider it not only cheap, but inferior in protection and durability to finely wrought surfaces and smooth, close-fitting joints. We are too apt to estimate the value and beauty of a stone house by the amount of labor lavished on its exterior, as if the chisel possessed the power to make the joints more impenetrable, and bestowed an endurance commensurate with the story of expense that it tells. So long as we build well and honestly, with a proper regard to protection from the weather, in a substantial and workmanlike manner, good taste and sound sense will uphold the use of quarried rock, and discover a permanent strength and power in this Cyclopean masonry that elaborately finished surfaces and delicately wrought ornaments fail to express. [Illustration: FIG. 78.--_First Floor._] Dressed in squared blocks and hammered lines, stone becomes an expensive building material, and preference is then given to something else less costly; but if used in its quarried form, irregular in size and shape, it becomes, wherever conveniently obtained, among the economical materials used for building, and is unsurpassed for its impressiveness and durability. No paint is required to preserve it from the weather, and no color is so good as the color of the stone; time softens its tints, and the clambering vine that lays hold of the massive walls is a decoration beyond the resources of architecture. [Illustration: FIG. 79.--_Second Floor._] "If a building," says Mr. Ruskin, "be under the mark of average magnitude, it is not in our power to increase its apparent size by any proportionate diminution in the scale of its masonry; but it may be often in our power to give it a certain nobility by building it of massy stones, or, at all events, introducing such into its make. Thus it is impossible that there should ever be majesty in a cottage built of brick; but there is a marked element of sublimity in the rude and irregular piling of the rocky walls of the mountain cottages of Wales, Cumberland, and Scotland. "And if the nobility of this confessed and natural masonry were more commonly felt, we should not lose the dignity of it by smoothing surfaces and fitting joints. The sums which we waste in chiselling and polishing stones, which would have been better left as they came from the quarry, would often raise a building a story higher. "There is also a magnificence in the natural cleavage of the stone to which the art must indeed be great, that pretends to be equivalent; and a stern expression of brotherhood with the mountain heart from which it has been rent, ill-exchanged for a glistering obedience to the rule and measure of men. His eye must be delicate indeed who would desire to see the Pitti Palace polished." DESIGN No. 27. A CHAPTER ON GATES. We present in the following designs, several illustrations of the principle of the truss applied to wooden gates. It was described by us, several years ago in the _Country Gentleman_. [Illustration: FIG. 80.] [Illustration: FIG. 81.] [Illustration: FIG. 82.] [Illustration: FIG. 83.] Since then, in our professional rambles, we have accidentally noticed some thirty gates erected after these designs in different sections of the country, and, for aught we know to the contrary, it is one of the most popular gates that swing. The principle of this gate is best shown in figure 80, and consists of four panels of braces crossing each other, and held firmly in position by five iron rods, which can be tightened by the screws at the bottom. The braces are not tenoned, and there are no nails about the gate. There can be no sagging under any circumstances; but should such a thing occur from unequal shrinkage, it can easily be remedied by placing a thin strip of wood or sheet lead under the foot of the braces running forward. There is economy in the construction of these gates, as they can be made with a less number of joints, and greater strength and stiffness secured with lighter materials, than in any other style of gate we know of. The principle is the one used in railroad bridges and roofs of great span, and our own experience with them, having built and tested all the gates here illustrated, is, that they possess very decided merits. [Illustration: FIG. 84.] [Illustration: FIG. 85.] [Illustration: FIG. 86.] [Illustration: FIG. 87.] [Illustration: FIG. 88.] [Illustration: FIG. 89.] Fig. 81 is the principal entrance gate to one of the finest estates on the Hudson, above Tarrytown, and although similar in appearance to figure 82, has some very decided differences, the cross braces in this case reaching only to a second rail; the rods, however, pass through to the bottom; it is much more elaborate in workmanship, and the addition of a moulding on the top and bottom would increase its effect. Fig. 84 is the entrance gate at the New Windsor, N. Y., Parsonage, and has been hanging six years without a perceptible change. The braces in this are one inch square and doubled; they are not halved, but cross each other, two one way and one the other, in the manner shown in figure 85. There is no other mode of constructing gates in which rustic work can be made such good use of. The chief objection to all things made in the rustic manner is, that they soon fall to pieces, limbs shrink and twist, and nails do not hold; but a rustic gate held together by iron rods will remain good until the last brace has decayed. Fig. 86 is the principal entrance gate to one of the most finely finished country seats on Newburgh Bay. Figs. 87, 88, and 89, illustrate a novel style of hinge, peculiarly adapted to this gate, and is really stronger than any other. It requires less iron and less blacksmith work. Fig. 87 shows the top hinge corner, and figure 88 the bottom hinge corner. The iron which secures this end of the gate, passes through both top and bottom hinge, and binds them and the gate securely together. The additional fastenings for hinge are made with carriage-bolts. Nothing but a power beyond the enormous tensile strength of iron and the compressible strength of wood, will cause the gates to yield in ordinary use. Fig. 89 is a perspective view of the hinge, showing how it may be counter-sunk, and thus almost entirely concealed. Figs. 80, 81, 82, and 83, also show the hinge, and four different styles of stone gate piers. [Illustration: FIG. 90.] Fig. 90 is intended for a farm gate. The cross rails are secured by carriage-bolts passed through them and the main braces. Each end of the gate has an iron rod only, which is made heavier than the others, and saves framing. The hinge is made by having the iron rod project beyond the bolt head and nut, and the upper end is passed into an eye, as shown in Fig. 91, which is screwed into the post; the lower end is pointed, and is placed in a stone as shown, or it may rest on solid iron of similar form to the eye. Any intelligent laborer, with an axe and auger, can, with the iron work, make these farm gates. [Illustration: FIG. 91.] This principle of constructing gates admits of an infinite variety of designs; those given are merely suggestive. It admits of all classes of workmanship, from the plainest to the most elaborate, from the simplest farm gate to those required for the finished park, and in beauty, strength, and economy stands unequaled. Fig. 92 and 93.--Plan and elevation of an entrance gate, which we have executed in oak, and presents an effective appearance. [Illustration: FIG. 92.--_Elevation of Entrance Gate._] [Illustration: FIG. 93.--_Plan._] DESIGN No. 28. RESIDENCE OF TRISTRAM ALLEN, ESQ., RAVENSWOOD, N. Y. The accompanying view of Mr. Allen's house is a good example of the method of adding to a dwelling which has ceased to be of sufficient capacity for the requirements of the family. By reference to the basement or cellar plan, the outline of the old house and the foundation of the new will be distinctly seen. The addition transforms the cottage to a villa, and in a manner which preserves the proportions as harmoniously as if the whole had been erected at one time and from one plan, thus illustrating a prominent advantage in this style of architecture, which admits more freely than any other, successive additions, which, when properly designed, add to the variety of outline, and its beauty of light and shade. The different floor plans show the arrangements of rooms and their connection with the original building, which, it will be seen, are convenient and compact. [Illustration: FIG. 94.--_Perspective._] [Illustration: FIG. 95.--_Basement._] [Illustration: FIG. 96.--_First Floor._] [Illustration: FIG. 97.--_Second Floor._] Ravenswood is one of the most elegant of the suburbs of New York, being near at hand, and having frequent and rapid communication with the city. Situated on the Long Island shore, opposite the centre of Manhattan Island, overlooking the great metropolis and its outlying cities, of easy access to the Central Park by the Hell Gate Ferry, amid all the refinement of fine gardens, polished landscape scenery, and architectural taste, it presents at once all the enjoyments that a combination of city and country life can afford. [Illustration: FIG. 98.--_Attic._] DESIGN No. 29. RESIDENCE OF LINDLEY M. FERRIS, ESQ., NEAR POUGHKEEPSIE, N. Y. The residence of Mr. Ferris, of which we give the plans only, is located south of the city of Poughkeepsie, and almost or quite within its suburbs. The surrounding estate, of 150 acres of handsomely rolling land, possesses all the attractions of beauty and fertility so generally awarded to the finer portions of Dutchess county. In the immediate vicinity are some of the highly finished and well-kept country seats which adorn this portion of the Hudson, and make up the attractions which taste and refinement always add to country life. [Illustration: FIG. 99.--_First Floor._] The object aimed at in the design of this house, was that of a substantial and commodious mansion, suited to the requirements of a large family, and that should express its purpose in the simplest manner at a moderate expense. It was therefore desirable to avoid all costly irregularity of form, and all the fanciful varieties of gimcracks. The style selected as best illustrating this purpose is the Chateau roof, Louis XV style; the main building being 43 feet square, with a rear addition 25 by 29 feet; the plan illustrating the arrangement of rooms, verandah, etc. The first floor gives double parlors, (one of which may be used as a bed-room or library,) a sitting-room or reception-room, dining-room, and a large kitchen, with necessary closets, an inclosed verandah, water closets, etc. The second floor, main building, gives four large bed rooms and two smaller rooms for other purposes, and in the rear are four servants' rooms and a bath-room. The attic story, main building, has now five rooms, finished with closets, and two rooms more can be added by putting up two partitions. These upper rooms, in a roof of this character, are cool, well ventilated, well lighted, and agreeable in warm weather, there being roomy air chambers between the attic ceiling and the upper roof, and also between the walls of the rooms and the outer wall of the house. There is but little difference in the value of these rooms and those on the floor below, except convenience of access. The house is built of brick, in a first class manner, the lower roof slate, the upper one being tin; is thoroughly finished throughout, and is in all respects a convenient, durable, and commanding structure, giving the largest amount of room in a desirable and attractive form, with the most economy of means. It is situated on a knoll overlooking all the surrounding grounds, which include a number of other fine sites, one or two of which, we think, even more desirable than the one selected. It is not, however, an easy matter to choose one from a dozen sites, each almost equally good. [Illustration: FIG. 100.--_Second Floor._] A new road is now being laid through these and the adjoining premises, to connect two of the principal drives southward from Poughkeepsie, which when completed, will add a new attraction to the beautiful suburbs of this city. The views from the grounds, more particularly from the top of the house, are varied and extensive. The mountain panorama, which sweeps three-fourths of the horizon, beginning with the Fishkill mountains, and ending with the Catskills, is exceedingly fine. The eastern view embraces the Vassar Female College, the noble gift of Matthew Vassar, Esq., to the cause of female education. In the foreground and middle distance are the rich rolling landscapes of Dutchess and the fertile hillsides of Ulster counties, the glittering spires of Poughkeepsie, the lordly Hudson, and southerly are seen the famous Beacons and the Highland Pass, "Where Hudson's wave o'er silvery sands Winds through the hills afar." DESIGN No. 30. MODEL SUBURBAN COTTAGE--IN THE OLD ENGLISH OR RURAL GOTHIC STYLE. BY FREDERICK S. COPLEY, ARTIST, TOMPKINSVILLE, S. I. The general appearance of this Cottage, as seen from the road, is shown in the engraving, (Fig. 101.) which is a perspective view of the North and East Fronts. It is situated at Montrose, on the lake-like shores of Hempstead Harbor, near the village of Roslyn, Long Island, a spot noted for its beauty and healthfulness. [Illustration: FIG. 101.--_Perspective._] Size of building, 44 by 38 feet. Principal Plan (Fig. 103.) 10 feet high. P. shows a recessed porch, with double doors of oak, (oiled) the outer ones open, to be closed only at night and stormy weather, behind the one on the right is a space for wet umbrellas, &c., the inner doors have glazed panels to give light within, and should always be closed. V. is the vestibule, containing a spiral staircase, with walnut steps and rail (oiled). The floor laid with encaustic tiles, with ceiling groined, and walls finished in imitation of stone in the sand coat. On the left (under the stairs) is a private door opening into a lobby, fitted with wash-basin, water, &c., and lighted by a narrow window, that also serves to light the front basement stairs, so that a servant could answer a call, at either front or back doors, without passing through the central hall; which would not only be more convenient for them, but would be to the family and guests, especially in time of company, when the hall would form a central room, by closing the doors that lead to the stairs: nor would this interfere in the least with the domestics, or their duties: as they can go from cellar to attic without disturbing the privacy of a single room: and the guests could ascend, unseen to the dressing rooms above, (from either entrance) or depart in the same manner. [Illustration: FIG. 102.--_First Floor._] The hall screen, separating the vestibule, should be of real oak, (oiled) and lighted in the panels with stained glass, which would impart a soft and pleasant light to the hall, and produce a fine effect on either side, day or night. The hall is here placed in the centre of the plan, and so happily arranged are the doors and rooms, as not only to give it a symmetrical effect, but to unite the whole, _en suite_, without disturbing the individuality of either. Also, the hall lamp and stove would light and warm, equally, every room, besides passage, vestibule, and stairs. The cloak closet is in the passage which contains the back stairs. P. is the Parlor, which would be the favorite living room in the summer, as it faces the north, and has a large bay-window commanding a fine view down the harbor to the sound. [Illustration: FIG. 103.--_Second Floor._] L. is the Library, and living room, connected with the parlor by sliding doors, with recessed book-cases, on each side, and the same on the sides of the bay-window, here facing the south, and possessing a beautiful view of the bay and hills, with the village in the distance, which make it the favorite quarters in winter, being fully exposed to the genial influences of the sun during the absence of foliage at that season. On the right of the mantel is a private closet for plate, papers, &c., both these rooms have windows opening on the west veranda, with a fine view across the harbor. D. is the Dining room, and a most cheerful one, (as it should be,) with a large ornamental window on the east, admitting the morning sun, and a fine bay-window on the north, looking down the road and harbor, possessing a charming prospect of land and water. To harmonize with the bay (on the other end) is the sideboard recess with a dumb-waiter on the right, and a china closet on the left; on one side of the mantel is the door opening into the lobby, which communicates with the hall, and basement plan below, and fitted with wash-basin, water, &c., which would be found most convenient to wash hands or glasses, delicate or valuable articles of use not wished to be trusted to careless servants. It will be seen that the three bay-windows on this plan, are of different forms, and each fitted with inside shutters. C. is the principal chamber, or boudoir, facing south and east, with fine large windows in each. The one on the south has closets on each side, and opens into the conservatory, making this a most delightful ladies'-work-room. It will be seen that all the rooms on this floor, although not large, are of the most comfortable size, perfect and elegantly proportioned, and arranged with every conceivable convenience requisite for the enjoyment of all the comforts and luxuries of life. Chamber Plan (Fig. 103.) is nine feet high, and in keeping with the rest, in its admirable arrangements, furnishing five excellent rooms, with a bath room, convenient to all, fitted with the latest improvements, (the water closet enclosed, and vertical pipes, which would make freezing impossible). The four principal rooms are about equal in size and attractiveness, as they possess the same fine views as the corresponding ones beneath, and each finished with fire-places and ample closet room. The small room windows open on a balcony, with a charming view of the bay; and would afford an agreeable lounge in summer evenings, to enjoy the setting sun, or cool breeze. All the rooms on these two floors (except the last) to be fitted with Dixon's patent grates, and Arnott's ventilating valves, which would secure sweet, healthy, and warm rooms, without draughts. The hall, as will be seen, is well lighted and ventilated, not only by the staircase window, on the north, but by the ventilating sash-lights over the doors of every-room; the bath room door is also lighted in the panel with ground glass. Between the doors, on the east side, is the lift, or dumb-waiter, and dust register, which being in the centre of the plan, is of equal convenience to all. [Illustration: FIG. 104.--_Attic and Roof._] Fig. 104. Roof and attic plan. The attic contains five good rooms for the accommodation of the servants, storing fruit, trunks, &c., and drying clothes. As this plan has the same central arrangements as all the rest, consequently the same advantages in economy of space, and of direct and easy access to every room, stairs, &c. The landing here is lighted in the same way as the hall below, and by the same staircase window, with the addition of a large sky-light and ventilator in the centre, which would keep the rooms sweet and cool. Fig. 105, shows the Basement and Cellar plan, nine feet high, and containing every requisite convenience for the domestic duties of a family. As they are on the same level, and under the principal story, the noise and smell of the kitchen would be excluded. The garden entrance is shown by the steps on the southwest corner of area, which extends the whole of the west side, round to the hall door on the south; and covered by verandah, would make these rooms dry, cool, and pleasant, as they are but little below ground, and well lighted on two sides, with a large bay-window in each; the north bay fitted with wash-tubs, as this kitchen is intended as a back one, or scullery, and for cooking in during the heat of summer, it has a sink closet on the left of the fire-place, and dresser and shelves for pots and pans on the south side, by which, is a door opening into the basement, and one out on the area. The basement would be a cheerful room, facing the south with a large bay-window with seats and inside shutters, on the opposite side is a dresser fitted with plate rack, &c. On the east is the range and pantry; behind the range, in the hall, is a warm closet for clothes, shoes, &c., and opposite, under the stairs, is a dark one, for potatoes. At the north end of the hall, (and behind the scullery, fire-place, &c.) is the furnace room and front basement stairs. On the east side of the hall is the dumb-waiter, or lift. The coal cellar has two bins placed under the shoots, for large and small coal, with two on the east side for ashes and wood. Against the middle window is a wire gauze safe, for cooked meats, &c.; between this and the wine cellar is the dairy; the other division is for stores in general. All the partitions are made open, so as to admit the free circulation of light and air. [Illustration: FIG. 105.--_Basement and Cellar._] On observing the relative position of the different doors and windows, in the several plans, it will be found that the house may be ventilated by through drafts in every direction at pleasure; a luxury to be appreciated in the heat of summer. Also, by carrying the lift, or dumb-waiter, to the top of the house, and communicating with every floor, its full value would be secured, besides forming a ventilating shaft for the whole building, from cellar to attic. Another valuable labor-saving convenience (next to the water-works and lift) is the dust shoot, which is simply a tin tube, with registers in the floors of the different plans, to sweep the dust into, from the rooms, where it descends to the cellar, and is caught in a barrel, to be removed when full. It is here placed in the hall, by the side of the lift, on every floor, which by this central arrangement is at the door of every room. Construction, although of wood, is made nearly fire proof, by making the floors, walls, partitions and stairs solid. The walls and principal partitions are formed of slats of one inch thick by four inches broad, securely nailed one on the other, so as to form a one inch groove on both sides, to plaster on. This forms a good strong six inch solid wall, fire and vermin proof, and dryer than any built of stone or brick. The stairs to have their skeletons of iron work, filled in solid with cement. The floors of basement and entry to be of earthenware tiles, the kitchen and cellar cemented. That of the principal plan, (forming the ceiling of the basement, &c., the seat of danger,) should be formed of brick, arched on iron girders, and filled up with cement, and laid with larch, (as that burns less freely than any other wood). The hall, &c., to be laid with encaustic tiles. The floors of the chamber plans should have their timbers coated with plaster paris, and filled up with mortar and laid with larch, the plastering of the ceilings, &c., on wire gauze, instead of lath; a slate roof, and the walls of the basement plan of hollow brick, and plastered on the inner surface. By these simple and inexpensive means, the house would be nearly fire proof, and life and property secure. The exterior is covered by a sand coat, of a cheerful and rich light brown ochre tint, it being the most befitting for the situation and design, besides possessing the advantages of economy, and imparting a more substantial effect, it avoids that harsh and disagreeable glare and glisten of paint. DESIGN No. 31. The design on the following page, for a Head Stone, was published by us in the May number, 1864, of the HORTICULTURIST. It attracted the attention of one of our most intelligent subscribers and valuable contributors in Western New York, who desired to set up, in their beautiful Cemetery, a memorial of one of his household who "who had gone before." The monument was executed in this city, under the supervision of the friend who furnished the design for the HORTICULTURIST. It was cut from the Caen stone, and the execution was every way satisfactory. The gentleman for whom it was made says in a letter advising of its safe arrival:--"Last week I had it set in a solid foundation, and my highest anticipations are more than realized. I do not see how the monument could be better, as to material, design, and inscriptions. It is unique, yet chaste, highly significant and satisfactory. I have only words of praise and feelings of gratitude for a result that so fully answers to my ideal." [Illustration: FIG. 106.--_Head Stone._] "BALLOON FRAMES." "If it had not been for the knowledge of balloon frames, Chicago and San Francisco would never have arisen as they did, from little villages, to great cities in a single year."--SOLON ROBINSON. In these days of BALLOONING, it is gratifying to know that there is one practically useful, well tested principle, which has risen above the character of an experiment, and is destined to hold an elevated position in the opinions of the masses. That principle is the one which is technically, as well as sarcastically, termed Balloon Framing, as applied to the construction of all classes of wooden buildings. The early history of the Balloon Frame, is somewhat obscure, there being no well authenticated statements of its origin. It may, however, be traced back to the early settlement of our prairie countries, where it was impossible to obtain heavy timber and skillful mechanics, and the fact is patent to any one who has passed through the pleasures and the vicissitudes of the life of a pioneer, that his own necessities have indicated the adoption of some principle in construction, that, with the materials he has at hand, shall fulfill all the necessary conditions of comfort, strength and protection. To these circumstances we must award the early conception of this frame, which, with subsequent additions and improvements, has led to its universal adoption for buildings of every class throughout the States and cities of the West, and on the Pacific coast. The Balloon Frame has for more than twenty years been before the building public. Its success, adaptability, and practicability, have been fully demonstrated. Its simple, effective and economical manner of construction, has very materially aided the rapid settlement of the West, and placed the art of building, to a great extent, within the control of the pioneer. That necessity, which must do without the aid of the mechanic or the knowledge of his skill, has developed a principle in construction that has sufficient merit to warrant its use by all who wish to erect in a cheap and substantial manner any class of wooden buildings. Like all successful improvements, which thrive on their own merits, the Balloon Frame has passed through and survived the theory, ridicule and abuse of all who have seen fit to attack it, and may be reckoned among the prominent inventions of the present generation, an invention neither fostered nor developed by any hope of great rewards, but which plainly and boldly acknowledges its origin in necessity. [Illustration: FIG. 107.--_Isometrical Perspective View of the Balloon Frame._] The increasing value of lumber and labor, must turn the attention of men of moderate means to those successful plans which have demonstrated economy in both, and at the same time preserved the full qualities of strength and security so generally accorded to the old fogy principles of framing, and which, we presume to say, is inferior in all the true requisites of cheap and substantial building. Light sticks, uninjured by cutting mortices or tenons, a close basket-like manner of construction, short bearings, a continuous support for each piece of timber from foundation to rafter, and embracing and taking advantage of the practical fact, that the tensile and compressible strength of pine lumber is equal to one-fifth of that of wrought iron, constitute improvements introduced with this frame. If, in erecting a building, we can so use our materials that every strain will come in the direction of the fibre of some portion of the wood work, we can make inch boards answer a better purpose than foot square beams, and this application of materials is one reason of the strength of Balloon Frames. [Illustration: FIG. 108.--_Floor Plan._] The Balloon Frame belongs to no one person; nobody claims it as an invention, and yet in the art of construction it is one of the most sensible improvements that has ever been made. That which has hitherto called out a whole neighborhood, and required a vast expenditure of labor, time, and noise, can, by the adoption of the balloon frame, be done with all the quietness and security of an ordinary day's work. A man and boy can now attain the same results, with ease, that twenty men could on an old fashioned frame. The name of "Basket Frame" would convey a better impression, but the name "Balloon" has long ago outlived the derision which suggested it. [Illustration: FIG. 109.--_Elevation Section--manner of nailing--A. corner stud, 4 by 4--B. joist, 3 by 8--C. stud, 2 by 4._] [Illustration: FIG. 110.--_D. Upper Edge of Joist--E. Stud._] The moment the foundation is prepared, and the bill of lumber on the ground, the balloon frame is ready to raise, and a man and boy can do all of it. The sills are generally 3 inches by 8 inches, halved at the ends or corners, and nailed together with large nails. Having laid the sills upon the foundation, the next thing in order is to put up the studding. Use 4 by 4 studs for corners and door posts, or spike two 2 by 4 studs together, stand them up, set them plumb, and with stay laths secure them in position. Set up the intermediate studs, which are 2 by 4 inches, and 16 inches between centres, toe or nail them diagonally to the sill. Then put in the floor joists for first floor, each joist to be placed alongside each stud, and nailed to it and to the sill. Next measure the height to ceiling, and with a chalk line mark it around the entire range of studding; below the ceiling line notch each stud one inch deep and four inches wide, and into this, flush with the inside face of the studding, nail an inch strip four inches wide. This notch may be cut before putting up the studs. If the frame be lined on the inside, it will not be necessary to notch the strip into the studs, but simply to nail it to the studding; the object of notching the studding is to present a flush surface for lathing, as well as to form a shoulder or bearing necessary to sustain the second floor; both of these are accomplished by lining inside the studding--(for small barns and outbuildings that do not require plastering, nail the strip 1 by 4 to the studding)--on this rests the joists of the second floor, the ends of which come flush to the outside face of the studding, and both ends of each joist are securely nailed to each stud; the bearing of the joist on the inch strip below is close by the stud, and the inch strip rests on a shoulder or lower side of the notch cut to receive it. This bearing is so strong that the joists will break before it would yield. Having reached the top of the building, each stud is sawed off to an equal height; if any are too short they are spliced by placing one on top of the other, and nailing a strip of inch board on both sides. The wall plate, 2 by 4 inches, is laid flat on top of the studding, and nailed to each stud; the rafters are then put on; they are notched, allowing the ends to project outside for cornice, &c. The bearing of each rafter comes directly over the top of each stud, and is nailed to it. [Illustration: FIG. 111.--_Side Elevation.--G. Manner of splicing sills.--F. Manner of splicing studs._] [Illustration: FIG. 112.--_End Elevation._] A Balloon Frame looks light, and its name was given in contempt by those old fogy mechanics who had been brought up to rob a stick of timber of all its strength and durability, by cutting it full of mortices, tenons and augur holes, and then supposing it to be stronger than a far lighter stick differently applied, and with all its capabilities unimpaired. Properly constructed, and with timber adapted to its purposes, it will stand securely against the fury of the elements, and answer every purpose that an old fashioned timber frame is calculated to fulfill. When the building is supported on posts, heavy sills are necessary, and the frame should be securely nailed or spiked together. The bents may be 16, 24 or 30 inches apart, and covered in the usual manner. The thrust of both the rafters and contents of the building are outward; the tie, 1 by 4, is abundantly strong, as each one will practically sustain, in the direction of its fibre, three tons. The floor joists are nailed to studs at each end. No one need fear any lack of perfect security, as these ties exceed in strength any hold that tenons could have. Fig. 113 illustrates the manner of framing buildings of one story, such as are used about almost every farm or country seat, as tool houses, granaries, wash-houses, spring houses, &c., &c. [Illustration: FIG. 113.--_Isometrical Perspective Balloon Frame._] Very small buildings, if unplastered, will not require ceiling joists; a tie at each end will be all-sufficient. Moderate size buildings will be strong enough if the ceiling joists are left out, and collars put on half way up the rise of the rafter. According to the size and uses of the building, the collars or ceiling joists may be put on every rafter, every other, or every third rafter; floor joists should be about 16 inches between centres, and the studding may be from 16 inches to 8 feet apart; in the last case only, every sixth floor joist is nailed to the stud, the intermediate ones being arranged equally distant from each other between the studding. Where the studding is placed wide apart, the plate must necessarily be heavier to sustain the roof; if vertical siding be used, it should be nailed to the sill and plate, and to an intermediate horizontal strip spiked in between the studding; if done in this way, the plate may be lighter; when horizontal siding is used, the studding should not be more than 4 feet apart--in small buildings, say 12 by 20 feet, we should cut all our stuff, except joists, from 1-1/4 inch plank. Studs 4 inches wide, rafters 5 inches wide; floor joists should be 2 by 9 inches, and put all up 30 inches between centres. In Fig. 114 is shown the manner of constructing frames for buildings of three stories. The corner stud, 4 by 4, is composed of and built up with two 2 by 4 studs, which are nailed together, breaking joints as the building progresses in height; the splicing of studs is done in the same manner, being nailed together as fast as additional length is required; the joists of the last floor are laid upon the plate, and they act as tie-beams to sustain the thrust of the rafters. We consider the splice where the studs butt and have side strips nailed to them, to be the most secure; the lapping splice is very generally used, however, and found to answer every purpose. Ribs for vertical siding may be put on in two ways; one as shown, by which the ribs run over the sill, and are nailed to it; a strip of the same thickness as ribs, say 1-1/4 inches, nailed on to the sill to fill up the space between the ribs, and is then covered by the outside plinth or base. The other plan is to set the studs back 1-1/4 inches from face edge of sill; then let the end of ribs bevel down on the sill, or dovetail them into the edge. [Illustration: FIG. 114.--_Three Story Building._ _Balloon Framing._ _Details._ Fig. 115. Joist notched down on plate. Fig. 116. Side girt not gained in for small unplastered buildings. Fig. 117. Inside lining--answers the same purpose as a side girth. Fig. 118. Joist bearing on sill.] Either outside or inside lining may be used, or both together. Where diagonal lining is used, it should be reversed or run the other way on the opposite side of the house. [Illustration: FIG. 120.--_Diagonal Ribs for Vertical or Battened Siding._] The lining of a Balloon Frame adds immensely to its strength, particularly so if put on diagonally; it may be done outside or inside, though on the whole the inside is preferable. If done outside, it should be carried over the sill and nailed to it; the sill being wider than the studding, in order to get a larger bearing on the masonry, and the floor joists being in the way, does not admit of inside lining being put on in the same manner. A first-class Balloon Frame should be lined, if for vertical siding, outside the studding--if horizontal siding is used, line inside; it makes the frame stiffer and the building warmer. Some line diagonally, say from centre next the first floor towards extreme upper corners both ways; others line one side diagonally in one direction, and the other in an opposite direction. This makes assurance of strength doubly sure. If lined inside, nail perpendicular lath to the lining 16 inches from centres, and on this lath horizontally for plastering. [Illustration: FIG. 121.--_Showing lengthwise and crosswise manner of tying frame._] The principle of Balloon Framing is the true one for strength, as well as for economy. If a mechanic is employed, the Balloon Frame can be put up for _forty per cent. less money_ than the mortice and tenon frame. If you erect a balloon frame yourself, which you can easily do without the aid of a mechanic, it costs the price of the materials and whatever value you put upon your own time. Fig. 23 shows the manner of attaching the flooring to gable end studding, and in those buildings in which the thrust of the rafters is in the direction of the flooring--if every third stud be bolted to the joist in the manner shown, it makes the tie equal if not superior to that in the direction of the joists. [Illustration: FIG. 122.--_Manner of Framing Large Barns._] Fig. 122 explains the manner of framing the largest class of barns. Wide openings, like bays, require the use of heavy timber, and the mortice, tenon and brace, only so far as the gallows frame is concerned; the balance of the frame is of light stuff, studding 2 feet to 2-1/2 feet apart, 2 by 6 inches, every third one 2 by 8 inches, into which is gained the side girt, it being nailed to the others. On this rests one end of the temporary floors, the gallows frame supports the roof, and the rafters are secured to it, so that they become ties. The side of this building is like a floor turned on edge, and is firmly secured by the floor joists at the bottom and the rafters at the top. Warehouses, depots, and other buildings of a very large size, can be made stronger by using the Balloon Frame, instead of the heavy timber frame. Those who prefer to err on the right side, can get unnecessary strength by using deeper studding, placing them closer together, putting in one or more rows of bridging and as many diagonal ribs as they like. In large buildings there is no saving in timber, only the substitution of small sizes for large--the great saving is in the labor, which is quite important. The following are some of the advantages claimed for the Balloon Frame: 1. The principal labor of framing is dispensed with. 2. It is a far cheaper frame to raise. 3. It is stronger and more durable than any other frame. 4. Any stick can be removed, and another put in its place, without disturbing the strength of those remaining--in fact, the whole building can be renewed stick by stick. 5. It is adapted to every style of building, and better adapted for all irregular forms. 6. It is forty per cent. cheaper than any other known style of frame. 7. It embraces strength, security, comfort and economy, and can be put up without the aid of a mechanic. Established in 1846. "THE HORTICULTURIST," AND JOURNAL OF RURAL ART AND RURAL TASTE. Published Monthly at Two Dollars and Fifty Cents per Annum, Twenty-five Cents per Number, and devoted to GRAPE CULTURE, FLOWERS, RURAL ARCHITECTURE, FRUITS, GARDENING, LANDSCAPE ADORNMENT, AND RURAL PURSUITS. Forming an annual volume of 400 royal octavo pages handsomely Illustrated. The Author of _My Farm of Edgewood_, The Author of _Ten Acres Enough_, The Author of _The Grape Culturist_, The Author of _Flowers for Parlor and Garden_, The Author of _American Fruit Grower's Guide_. Rev. Dr. CRESCY, and others of the best practical talent and ability, both East and West, write regularly. _Back Volumes and Numbers supplied._ GEO. E. & F. W. WOODWARD, PUBLISHERS, 37 PARK ROW, N. Y. WOODWARD'S GRAPERIES AND HORTICULTURAL BUILDINGS, By Geo. E. & F. W. Woodward, ARCHITECTS AND HORTICULTURISTS. A new, practical, and original Work on the design and construction of all classes of Horticultural Buildings, including Hot-beds, Propagating Houses, Hot and Cold Graperies, Orchard Houses, Conservatories, &c., with the best modes of heating, &c. Elegantly Illustrated. Being the result of an extensive professional practice. GEO. E. & F. W. WOODWARD, PUBLISHERS, _Office of the "Horticulturist," 37 PARK ROW, N. Y._ GEO. E. & F. W. WOODWARD, PUBLISHERS No. 37 PARK ROW, NEW YORK OFFICE OF THE HORTICULTURIST. BOOKS ON AGRICULTURE, HORTICULTURE, ARCHITECTURE, LANDSCAPE GARDENING, AND RURAL ART For Sale at this Office, or mailed, post paid, on receipt of Publisher's prices. *** _Priced Catalogue on application._ NEW YORK AGENTS for the _Country Gentleman, Gardeners' Monthly, & Hovey's Magazine_. Subscriptions received and back numbers supplied. FIRE ON THE HEARTH. GEO. E. & F. W. WOODWARD, 37 PARK ROW, N. Y. _New York Agents for Dixon's low down Philadelphia Grates, for burning Wood or Coal, for sale at Manufacturer's Prices._ "It is a plan for warming houses, which has never in all its points been surpassed." * * * * * * "It is believed that there is scarcely a single educated Physician in Philadelphia, who owns the house he lives in, who is not supplied with one or more of these delightful luxuries." * * "We have one of these admirable contrivances, put in our house in 1859, and every additional year only increases our appreciation of the luxury."--_Dr. W. W. Hall, editor of Hall's Journal of Health, N. Y._ _Price $35 and upwards according to size and finish. Samples at this Office._ * * * * * Transcriber's Notes: Obvious punctuation errors repaired. This text uses both hyphenated and spaced forms of its rooms, i.e. bed-room and bed room. Also used were variations on hyphenated and not words such stair-way and stairway. Page 16 "ofwhich" changed to "of which" (of which the public) Page 28, "accomodation" changed to "accommodation" (of this accommodation) Page 34, "accomodation" changed to "accommodation" (amount of accommodation) Page 83, "understand" changed to "understands" (one that understands) Page 104, "accomodation" changed to "accommodation" (for their accommodation) Page 124, "posesses" changed to "possesses" (possesses all the attractions) Page 148, "desends" changed to "descends" (where it descends) Page 164, "23" changed to "121" (Fig. 121 shows the manner) 
59599	----	by The Internet Archive. Transcriber Note Text emphasis is denoted by _Italics_ and =Bold=. Whole and fractional parts of numbers as 12-3/4. U. S. DEPARTMENT OF AGRICULTURE FARMERS' BULLETIN No. 1738 FARMHOUSE PLANS [Illustration] The Farmhouse Plans presented in this bulletin were developed in connection with the Farm Housing Survey made in the spring of 1934 by the United States Department of Agriculture and the agricultural colleges of 46 States, with funds provided by the Civil Works Administration. These plans were selected from more than 100 prepared under the cooperation of the following agencies and persons: United States Department of Agriculture: Bureau of Agricultural Engineering, S. H. McCrory, Chief; Bureau of Home Economics, Louise Stanley, Chief, and Director of the Rural Housing Survey. Alabama Polytechnic Institute: J. B. Wilson, extension engineer, department of agricultural engineering. University of Arkansas: Deane G. Carter, head, department of agricultural engineering. University of California: H. B. Walker, head, division of agricultural engineering. University of Georgia: R. H. Driftmier, professor of agricultural engineering. University of Illinois: E. W. Lehmann, head, and W. A. Foster, assistant chief in rural architecture, department of agricultural engineering. Purdue University (Indiana): William Aitkenhead, head, department of agricultural engineering. Iowa State College: Henry Giese, professor, department of agricultural engineering. Kansas State Agricultural College: H. E. Wichers, rural architect, department of architecture. Massachusetts Agricultural College: C. I. Gunness, head, department of agricultural engineering. University of Minnesota: H. B. White, assistant professor, division of agricultural engineering. University of Missouri: J. C. Wooley, chairman, department of agricultural engineering. Ohio State University: R. C. Miller, professor, department of agricultural engineering. Agricultural and Mechanical College of Texas: D. Scoates, head, department of agricultural engineering. Virginia Polytechnic Institute: C. E. Seitz, head, department of agricultural engineering. State College of Washington: L. J. Smith, head, department of agricultural engineering. University of Wisconsin: S. A. Witzel, extension instructor, department of agricultural engineering. At each of the cooperating institutions, home economics specialists were consulted by the designers in regard to the arrangement of the kitchen and other parts of the home. Working drawings for building the houses shown in this bulletin are available from the extension services of the State agricultural colleges. In most cases a small charge is made for the drawings. Washington, D.C. October, 1934 FARMHOUSE PLANS By Wallace Ashby, _Chief, Division of Structures, Bureau of Agricultural Engineering_[1] [1] Acknowledgment is made of the extended collaboration of Louise Stanley, Chief. Bureau of Home Economics, in selecting and reviewing the plans presented herein; and of the helpful assistance of W. H. Nash, architect, Bureau of Agricultural Engineering, in the preparation of both the manuscript and illustrations for publication. Mary Rokahr, senior home-management specialist, Extension Service, and Eloise Davidson, director of domestic electric service program, Electric Home and Farm Authority, made valuable suggestions regarding arrangement of kitchens and other equipment. Helpful comments and suggestions have been received from many other persons. Many of the perspective sketches illustrating the house plans shown in this bulletin were drawn by C. W. Mead, Bureau of Agricultural Engineering, CONTENTS Page Farmhouse requirements 1 Size 1 Comfort and convenience 2 Relation to other buildings and highway 3 Appearance 4 Safety 4 Construction materials 4 Costs 5 Cellars 5 Superstructures and porches 5 Estimating by unit costs 6 Working drawings 7 Caution regarding changes 7 Plans for houses 7 One-story growing houses 7 Moderate-sized one-story houses 34 Houses of more than one story 45 Very small houses 60 The principal purpose of this bulletin is to supply plans A for low-cost farm dwellings designed to meet the requirements of the farm operator and his family. Some of the plans may be useful in eases where, in addition to the main dwelling, smaller homes are needed for relatives, tenants, or unmarried farm hands. Still others will be found useful in the construction of low-cost houses for temporary use. A well-built farmhouse should last for 60 years or more. In the ordinary course of events at least two generations of children will be brought up in it. During these years the family operating the farm probably will have no other choice of dwelling. The builder should, therefore, think both of present needs and possible future requirements when selecting a plan for a new farmhouse. FARMHOUSE REQUIREMENTS SIZE The first requirement of a satisfactory farmhouse is adequate size to provide needed working area, storage space, and living and sleeping quarters. For the average family at least three sleeping rooms are needed,[2] one for the parents, one for the boys, and one for the girls. [2] Sometimes the living room must serve as one of the sleeping rooms. All the space may not be needed at the time the house is built, but the chances are that it will be needed before many years. On the other hand, many families find that after the children have grown up and left home it is not necessary to use the entire house. For this reason it is desirable to have it arranged so that part of the rooms may be closed off or may be rented to tourists. COMFORT AND CONVENIENCE Adequate, well-used space for both the family and the furniture is a large factor in farmhouse comfort. The proper number, size, and placement of windows, doors, and stairs, and good construction are important. These matters have been carefully worked out in the plans shown in this bulletin. Comfort also depends to a large extent on good heating, plumbing, lighting, and screening. Information on some of these subjects is given in Farmers' Bulletin 1698, Heating the Farm Home; 1448, Farmstead Water Supply; 1426, Farm Plumbing; 1227, Sewage and Sewerage of Farm Homes; Department Circular 405, The Domestic Oil Burner; and in U.S. Department of Commerce bulletin, Insulation on the Farm, price 10 cents. The convenient arrangement of the farmhouse begins with its relationship to the other farm buildings and to the highway. Unlike the city house, the farmhouse has its main line of communication through the back or side door. Therefore outside doors and porches should be located so as to give convenient entrance from the farm driveway and the path to the barn, and wherever possible should be on the sheltered side of the house. If possible, there should be a convenient place near the rear entrance for men to leave their outer wraps and to wash before going into the house. These facilities are often provided in a washroom or in one corner of the workroom, but if there is no washroom or workroom in the house, there should at least be clothes hooks and a bench and washbasin for summer use on the back porch. It is also desirable that the work portions of the house, where the housewife spends much of her time, look out over the farm buildings and the entrance roadway. Most farm women like also a glimpse of the highway from the kitchen window. Preferably the traffic way from the rear entrance to the main portion of the house should not lead through the kitchen. If the kitchen must be used as a passageway, the doors should be so arranged that the traffic does not cross the work area. This not only decreases the possibility of interference with household activities but also makes possible a more compact and convenient arrangement of work equipment. An important factor is a workroom or porch, on about the same level as the kitchen, for laundry, canning, care of milk, and other farm activities and for supplementary food storage. This saves much clutter in the kitchen itself and contributes to more efficient arrangement. At least one bedroom should be provided on the first-floor of the farmhouse, not too far from the kitchen, so that small children or sick persons may be cared for conveniently. The bathroom should be convenient to both downstairs and upstairs bedrooms, but preferably on the first-floor. A space for a bathroom is very desirable even if the fixtures cannot be put in at once. Ample storage space should be provided for clothing, bedding and linen, wraps, food, dishes and utensils, cleaning equipment, toys, and fuel. In general, these needs have been met in the plans given in this bulletin by closets in halls and bedrooms, kitchen cabinets, shelves or pantries, and cellar storage. Closet, cabinet, and shelf space adds greatly to the convenience and comfort of a house and should not be omitted.[3] [3] Plans for closets and storage spaces can be obtained from the Bureau of Home Economics. In the smaller plans shown here, an alcove or an end of the kitchen is indicated for use as a dining area. In the larger plans, either a dining room or a space for dining in the living room is provided, and in most cases there is also space in the kitchen for "hurry-up" meals. The following points have been kept in mind in planning the kitchens. A sink in every house is recommended. Even when water must be carried into the house, the sink and drain add much to the convenience of the kitchen and may be installed very cheaply. Where running water is not available, a pump may be installed beside the sink. However, running water, hot and cold, adds more to the convenience of the farm-home than almost any other factor. The sink should be well-lighted, with windows over or at one end of it. Windows over the sink should have the sills higher than the back of the sink. Such windows will need to be shielded from sun glare unless on the north side of the house. The sink should have a drain board at the left end, at the right a flat shelf for stacking dishes if there is no drain board there. Dish storage should be near enough the left end of the sink for the dishes to be put away without unnecessary steps. The cookstove should be conveniently near the sink, preferably against the side wall, or across from it if the kitchen is narrow. A small food-preparation surface, table or shelf, should be placed next to the stove at the same height as the cooking surface. There should be cupboard space near the stove for the storage of cooking utensils. A worktable should be provided for long mixing jobs; it should have knee space and toe space. Staple supplies should be stored near this table and, if possible, should be near the refrigerator and not too far from the stove. The refrigerator should, for convenient use, be as near as possible to the worktable and stove; however, the higher the surrounding temperature the greater the cost of operating the refrigerator. If an ice refrigerator is used, a location near the outside door lessens the tracking of dirt into the house. A ventilated cupboard near the worktable is convenient for storing the less perishable foods and reduces the season during which ice is needed. RELATION TO OTHER BUILDINGS AND HIGHWAY A house designed for the south or west side of the highway should be reversed if it is to be built on the north or east. For example, plan 6521 (p. 24) would fit nicely on either the south or the west side of the main road. If it were south of the highway, with the drive as shown, the kitchen would be on the east where it would have the advantage of the morning sunlight and in most localities the screened porch would be sheltered from the coldest winds. If the house were on the west side of the road, the kitchen would still get morning sunlight, and the porch would protect it from the afternoon sun. On the other hand, if the house were to be built on the north or east side of the road, the kitchen would be badly sheltered and lighted, but reversing the plan so that the kitchen would be on the right instead of the left side of the house would remedy these conditions. Before deciding to build any house the plan should be studied carefully to see how it will best fit the location and the arrangement of the rest of the farmstead. APPEARANCE Attractive appearance of a farmhouse is to be obtained by: Good taste in its proportions and exterior design. Materials chosen to suit the local environment and type of house, effectively employed. A pleasing color scheme for the house, in harmony with its surroundings. Proper planning with relation to the natural features of the site, the other farm buildings, and the highway. Grading the site and planting trees, shrubs, and flowers. If the homes shown in this bulletin are carefully built according to the drawings, they will be satisfactory with respect to the first two points. Proper location of the house is exceedingly important and must be worked out on the ground. Farmers' Bulletin 1132, Planning the Farmstead, and 1087. Beautifying the Farmstead, will be found helpful in this and in the planting of trees and shrubs around the house. Farmers' Bulletin 1452, Painting on the Farm, discusses kinds and uses of paints. Other bulletins on these subjects are available from several of the State agricultural colleges. SAFETY Safety in the farmhouse depends first on good construction for protection from damage by wind, fire, decay, and termites. Safety is promoted also by planning to avoid hazards from low beams, steep or unguarded stairways, or badly placed doors and windows. The working drawings for the houses illustrated herein embody good practice in these matters. The welfare and convenience of the occupants will be further permanently safeguarded through rat-proof construction, which eliminates "rat harbors", and denies easy entrance of the rodents to the building. Additional safety may be secured at slight cost by following the recommendations in Farmers' Bulletins 1590, Fire Protective Construction on the Farm; 1638, Rat Proofing Buildings and Premises; and 1649, Construction of Chimneys and Fireplaces; Leaflet 87, Wind-Resistant Construction for Farm Buildings, and Leaflet 101, Injury to Buildings by Termites. CONSTRUCTION MATERIALS The houses shown in this bulletin may, with slight changes, be built of wood, stone, concrete, brick, tile, earth, steel, or other materials. The choice depends largely on owner's preference, local availability and price, and the skill of local builders in using one or another. Many new materials for various purposes such as roofing, flooring, and insulation are on the market and deserve consideration. The practice common among farmers of hauling their own stone or concrete materials, cutting their own logs where possible, having their lumber sawed at local mills, and doing part of the actual construction work, aid in reducing the cash outlay and in making possible a better house for the same money expenditure. This is especially true where lumber is sawed long enough before building starts to allow thorough seasoning. This seasoning of lumber is important and is too often disregarded. COSTS The most satisfactory way to learn the probable cost of a house is to obtain estimates from one or more local builders. Approximate costs may, of course, be obtained by comparing the proposed house with one built recently in the same community, or rough estimates may be based on the size of the house and typical unit costs for the locality. Unit costs based on prices and wages prevailing in the spring of 1934 for houses suitable for the localities were obtained for about 300 counties by the Farm Housing Survey, A summary of the figures is as follows: CELLARS Costs for ordinary cellars were reported for most sections as varying from 50 cents to $1 per square foot of floor space. The cost per square foot is, of course, less for a large than for a small cellar, other things being equal. Easy excavation and low-cost materials also make for low unit cost. Costs of nearly $2 per square foot were reported in some sections where the ground-water level is high and cellar walls and floor must be carefully waterproofed. In sections where cellars are not ordinarily used the cost of the foundation was reported as part of the cost of the house superstructure. SUPERSTRUCTURES AND PORCHES Reported costs of one-story frame superstructures, including heating, plumbing, and lighting equipment ordinarily used in the locality, ranged from $1.25 to $2.25 per square foot of floor space in the South, from $2.25 to $3.50 in the West and Southwest, from $2.50 to $4 in the North, and from $3 to $4.50 in New England. Costs in Maryland, Virginia, and West Virginia and in a narrow belt along the east coast, including Florida, were reported from $2 to $3.25, and in the timber-producing sections of the Northwest at about $2 per square foot. Costs in any locality are influenced by local factors, generally being relatively high near cities and in thickly settled sections and relatively low in places where there are local supplies of lumber or other materials. Differences in cost between the various sections are due to differences in the kinds of houses built, as well as to differences in material costs and wages. The typical house in the North is much more compact and substantial and provided with more expensive heating equipment than the typical house in the South. The cost per square foot of floor area of two-story frame houses was reported as being 5 to 15 percent less than that of one-story houses in the same locality. The costs of typical masonry superstructures were generally reported at $2 to $3 per square foot of floor area in the southern third of the United States, from $3 to $4 per square foot in the central third, and more than $4 per square foot in the northern third of the country. There were many variations from these general levels, however, costs of about $2 per square foot being reported in many localities in the States bordering on or south of the Ohio River. Costs reported for counties along the Atlantic and Gulf coasts were generally higher than for those in the interior. Little difference in cost per square foot of floor area in one-story and in two-story masonry houses was reported. The higher costs reported for masonry houses as compared with frame are probably due in part to better grades of finish and equipment used in the masonry houses. The costs per square foot of floor space of open porches were reported as being about half the costs per square foot of floor space in one-story houses of similar materials. ESTIMATING BY UNIT COSTS The floor areas of the cellar, the porches, and the house itself (the superstructure) are shown with each plan. They do not include unexcavated cellar space nor unfinished space in attics. The areas were figured from the working drawings (see p. 7) because in some cases the dimensions given in the plans herein are approximate only. The superstructure area of a house of more than one story is given here as the area of the first-floor plus the usable area of the second-floor. Stairways, halls, and closets are included. To estimate very roughly what a house might cost, multiply the number of square feet of cellar floor space by a cost per square foot based on the costs stated above. Do the same for the house superstructure and the porches, and add the figures together. This, with allowance for price changes since the spring of 1934, will give a rough estimate of total cost of the house. The actual cost will, of course, be affected by the materials and home equipment which the owner selects and by the skill and efficiency of the builders. If the owner can furnish part of the material or labor, or if interior finish or equipment is omitted, the initial cash outlay may be reduced. Estimates based on local prices and wage rates are to be preferred to those based on the cost figures given above. Little study has been given to what amounts farm people are justified in spending for their houses, but several investigations have been made of expenditures for housing by people with fixed incomes. It is generally agreed that the house ordinarily should not cost more than two and one-half times the average annual net income of the family. In the case of the farm family the value of the living furnished by the farm should be considered as part of the income. Another generally accepted rule, which perhaps is more nearly applicable to farm conditions, is that not more than 25 percent--usually not more than 20 percent--of the average annual net income of the family should be required for housing, including principal payments, interest, taxes, insurance, repairs, and miscellaneous costs. WORKING DRAWINGS Working drawings have been prepared giving all necessary dimensions and details for building these homes. Farmers may obtain copies of these drawings from the agricultural extension services of the State agricultural colleges. The State extension services will supply only those plans which are suitable in their respective States, and usually will make a small charge to cover printing and mailing. CAUTION REGARDING CHANGES These plans have been carefully prepared by competent architects in consultation with home-management specialists and agricultural engineers familiar with farm conditions in all parts of the United States. It is urged that the plans be studied carefully before making a selection, but that no changes be made in them except for alternate arrangements indicated by the drawings or descriptions. Changing the size of a room or the location of a door or window may spoil some other valuable feature, and is almost certain to harm the appearance of the house. Doors and windows should be selected according to the descriptive material on the drawings. Sizes should be closely adhered to for best appearance. The prospective builder should not try to obtain too much originality, but rather should base his selection on those features of the plan which will give the utmost satisfaction in the long run. Differences in slope of ground, location of the drive and farm buildings, and position and amount of trees and shrubbery, all will contribute to the distinctive appearance of the home. For homes of the type offered in this bulletin, the surroundings should be kept free from distracting adornments. As a general rule, a few trees to provide shade, some flowering shrubs of native growth grouped close to the building to break harsh lines, and a bed or two of flowers selected for their color value, will be sufficient decorative relief. PLANS FOR HOUSES The 40 house plans shown in this bulletin have been arranged in four groups representing, respectively, (1) 1-story growing houses; (2) 1-story houses originally built with two or more separate bedrooms; (3) houses of 1-1/2 or 2 stories; and (4) very small houses. Some of the plans might have been placed in another group about as well as in that in which they are shown. ONE-STORY GROWING HOUSES There are many arguments in favor of the growing house for the farm. The first unit can be erected at a moderate cost, yet the finished house may have all the features considered important. As more space is needed the owner often can build the additions himself, taking advantage of slack times to cut lumber from his own land, haul sand and gravel for concrete, and in other ways reduce the cost of the additions. The chief difficulty with the growing house is that it is likely to grow very slowly. By the time additions are made the house is considered old by its occupants, and the additions are likely not to receive as careful attention as the original house. The growing houses in this bulletin have been carefully planned so that both the first units and the final structure are satisfactory in usefulness and in appearance. The additions fit into the original units with a minimum of ripping out and rearrangement. PLAN 6511,[4] FOR THE SOUTHWEST Floor areas: Superstructure, first unit 605 square feet; with 1-bedroom addition 815 square feet; with 2-bedroom addition 960 square feet. [Illustration: ORIGINAL HOUSE] This plan is for a permanent dwelling of frame, stucco, stone, adobe, or other construction. If desired, the first unit may be built without bedrooms, as shown, and the living room used for sleeping quarters until the house is completed. The two large closets of this living room add much to its value, and the arrangement with all doors at one end of the room permits efficient use of the space. [Illustration: FLOOR PLAN] If the first unit is to be used for several years before the bedrooms are added, the small bathroom with shower will be especially desirable. That space must be used for other purposes, however, and the bathroom fixtures moved when one or both bedrooms are added. An alternate kitchen arrangement suggested by the Bureau of Home Economics for houses in which only an oil, gas, or electric stove is needed and meals will usually be eaten in the living-dining room is shown on page 9. [Illustration: FLOOR PLAN] [Illustration: COMPLETED HOUSES] [Illustration: FLOOR PLANS] [4] Prepared by W. K. Bartges and Earl Barnett for the department of agricultural engineering, University of California. PLAN 6512,[5] FOR THE SOUTH Floor areas: Superstructure, first stage 715 square feet; second stage with one bedroom 1,085 square feet; third stage 1,515 square feet. Porch, 250 square feet. [Illustration: VIEW OF ORIGINAL HOUSE] Plan 6512 is designed for southern conditions, to afford ample shade from a glaring summer sun. The arrangement of rooms permits the building to face toward the south, thus taking advantage of the summer breezes from that direction. The glazed porch on the north side offers a cool spot for summer meals, while the meals served during cold weather would naturally be more enjoyable in front of a blazing fire at the west end of the living room. [Illustration: FLOOR PLAN] The second stage of the house adds the center bedroom of the three shown in the third stage. The partitions for the hall and the closets near the south porch are not needed until the third stage. If at all possible, the center bedroom should be built with the original unit to provide more sleeping space; but if it is necessary to watch the budget closely, the large living room or the glazed porch can be pressed into temporary service as sleeping quarters. [Illustration: FLOOR PLAN WITH ADDED BEDROOM] [Illustration: VIEW OF COMPLETED HOUSE] [Illustration: FLOOR PLAN WITH TWO ADDED BEDROOMS] [5] Prepared by J. B. Atkinson and J. E. Hudson for the department of agricultural engineering, Agricultural and Mechanical College of Texas. PLAN 6513,[6] FOR THE SOUTH Floor areas: Superstructure, first unit 490 square feet; with first addition 705 square feet; completed house 1,015 square feet. Porches, first unit 25 square feet; with first addition 240 square feet. The first unit of house 6513 is modest, and yet provides complete kitchen equipment, toilet facilities, a workroom or laundry, and g bedroom of comfortable size. The first addition increases the living accommodations and, with its front and rear porches, offers a cool retreat in hot weather. The second addition provides two more bedrooms and an adjoining bath, thus completing the six-room house. If desired, these two bedrooms may be made larger than shown in the plans. [Illustration: VIEW OF INTERIOR] The interior view shows the compact arrangement of kitchen cabinets and sink, and indicates the bright work area that is planned to lighten the duties of the housewife. An alternate arrangement of the kitchen, with no workroom, is shown on page 13. During the first two stages of development adequate space will be found in the kitchen for dining; but when two bedrooms are added in the final wing, the original bedroom (adjoining the kitchen) might be converted into a dining room. On the other hand, if at times the entire house is not needed by the family, the last wing of the house will make very desirable rooms for renting to tourists or summer boarders, or may be closed. In some parts of the South the fireplace will not provide sufficient heat in cold weather, but a circulator heater may be set in front of the fireplace and connected to the chimney through a metal shield. If the plan is used in the North, a cellar may be constructed under the second unit, with stairs leading down from the rear porch, which should be enclosed. [Illustration: VIEW OF COMPLETED HOUSE] [Illustration: FLOOR PLANS] [6] Prepared by W. H. Nash for the Bureaus of Agricultural Engineering and Home Economics, U.S. Department of Agriculture. PLAN 6514,[7] FOR THE MIDDLE WEST Floor areas: Superstructure, original house 670 square feet; with addition 940 square feet. Cellar, 255 square feet. Porches, 120 square feet. House 6514, with basement and furnace, is well adapted to northern or mid-western conditions. The steps to the basement may be outside the building as shown, or the washroom may be extended so as to include the steps and provide greater protection during stormy weather. The original house, in order to come in the class of low-cost houses, does not contain a bath. A pump at the kitchen sink provides water until funds permit of the installation of a modern plumbing system. The first unit of the house may be heated either by a circulator heater in the living room or by a furnace. The furnace will be especially desirable after the second unit is added. The added bedroom wing is recessed from the main building line to permit cross ventilation through the bedroom in the original house. [Illustration: VIEW OF COMPLETE HOUSE] [Illustration: FLOOR PLAN] [7] Prepared by W. E. Pettit and Fred Riebel for the department of agricultural engineering, Ohio State University. PLAN 6515,[8] FOR THE SOUTH Floor areas: Superstructure, first unit 565 square feet; with first addition 900 square feet; completed house 1,255 square feet. Porches, 175 square feet. This begins as a three-room house but is planned so that eventually three bedrooms and a bath may be added. The kitchen in the original house is nicely arranged, as shown in the plan. When the house is completed, the first bedroom may be used as a dining room, with a door cut through from the kitchen. The range should then be placed against the living room wall. The fireplace and range will heat the first three rooms. Hall space for a circulator heater is provided in the first addition. [Illustration: FLOOR PLAN] [Illustration: VIEW OF COMPLETE HOUSE] [8] Prepared by C. W. Heery, Fred J. Orr, and B. G. Danner for the department of agricultural engineering, University of Georgia. PLAN 6516,[9] FOR THE SOUTH Floor areas: Superstructure, original unit 685 square feet; with first addition 1,035 square feet; completed house 1,345 square feet. Porches, original 90 square feet; completed house 155 square feet. The original unit of house 6516 is a two-room structure of ample size. The dining room and kitchen are combined in one room, while the other room is temporarily both bedroom and living room. A porch leading directly into the kitchen affords entrance during the initial stage. In the center of the first unit are an unusually large storage closet and a chimney reminiscent of colonial Virginia. In localities where firewood is not readily available the fireplace may be omitted and a stove used for heating the bedroom. [Illustration: PLAN SHOWING FUTURE ADDITIONS] Additions to the house are indicated on both sides of the original; the first addition undoubtedly would be that with the bedroom and bath. The rear porch can be enclosed if needed, and will then serve for laundering and other work that is more convenient not to do in the kitchen. The second addition will complete the house with a living room and front porch. The addition of the living room and front porch requires considerable change in the arrangement of the kitchen to keep traffic from the back door to the living room from passing directly in front of the range. It will be best to set the range against the end wall, and preferably to use an electric or oil range so that no new chimney will be required. After the living room is added, less dining space will be needed in the kitchen. [Illustration: VIEW OF ORIGINAL UNIT] [Illustration: VIEW OF COMPLETED UNIT] [9] Prepared by H. B. Boynton and J. M. Thompson for the department of agricultural engineering, Virginia Polytechnic Institute. PLAN 6517,[10] FOR THE SOUTH Floor areas: Superstructure, original house 660 square feet; completed house 1,025 square feet. Porches, 300 square feet. In plan 6517 a large amount of space is provided at low-cost by using the cheapest type of construction and omitting the interior finish at the time of building, for when a large family must be housed and funds are limited space is often more desirable than good finish and ease of heating. The exterior walls are of vertical boards and battens, and the roof is of galvanized corrugated metal. The house may be improved at any time by lining the walls and ceiling. The kitchen arrangement shows a treatment recommended by home economists, the sink and worktable at right angles to the wall, with shelves above them. This scheme has the advantage of separating the working and dining areas, yet it does not hamper easy communication between the rooms at meal hours. If desired, a bed may be placed in the living room, yet the house is so arranged that each sleeping room will have complete privacy. The side wall of the small bedroom next to the kitchen is intended to be made of 1-inch boards with battens on both sides. The addition of bedrooms with closets and a bathroom is suggested. This addition will provide space for a circulator heater, which is a convenience when no cellar is planned. [Illustration: FLOOR PLAN AND COMPLETED HOUSE] [10] Prepared by the Bureaus of Agricultural Engineering and Home Economics, U.S. Department of Agriculture. PLAN 6518[11] Floor areas: Superstructure, first stage 835 square feet; with addition 1,160 square feet. Porches, 120 square feet. Several novel features about this small dwelling will appeal to the farm-home builder. A heater room on the main floor near the rear entrance and the kitchen avoids the need for a cellar. A kitchen like this, with three outside walls to give light and cross ventilation and a better view of the farmstead and highway, is often desirable. The end of the living room next the kitchen is narrowed to a dining alcove, and when more space is needed the dining table may be extended into the living room. The completed bungalow has three bedrooms, with ample closet space. The rear porch will provide a comfortable, shady place to work outside during the warm summer days. [Illustration: FLOOR PLAN] In the first stage of construction the two bedrooms at the rear may be omitted. This would still leave one bedroom and the bathroom and temporary closet space in the original bungalow. Then the two other bedrooms can be added later, when funds become available, or a screened and glazed sleeping porch with outside entrance could be built instead. A porch off the living room could also be added. [Illustration: COMPLETED HOUSE] [11] Prepared by L. J. Smith for the department of agricultural engineering, State College of Washington. PLAN 6519,[12] FOR THE SOUTHWEST Floor areas: Superstructure, original house 775 square feet; with addition 1,075 square feet. Porches, 160 square feet. The plans and perspectives on these pages show two methods of roofing this house. In each plan the original unit of the house is complete, and pleasing in appearance, and the additions fit the house gracefully with very little tearing out or rearrangement. As in some other plans, the kitchen is designed for the use of an oil, gas, or electric cookstove. The house may be heated by a circulator hot-air heater, by a hot-water system with a radiator boiler in the living room, or possibly by radiant gas or electric heaters in the bedrooms. [Illustration: COMPLETED HOUSE] [Illustration: FLOOR PLAN] [Illustration: COMPLETED HOUSE] The type of design favors keeping the house close to the ground. If floor-joist construction is used, the topsoil should be removed from under the house so that joists will not come too close to the ground surface. A concrete subfloor could be placed directly on the ground, supporting wood sleepers and wood floors. [Illustration: FLOOR PLAN] [12] Prepared by H. E. Wichers, O. S. Ekdahl, and N. F. Resch for the department of architecture, Kansas State Agricultural College. PLAN 6520[13] Floor areas: Superstructure, first unit 450 square feet; with first addition 730 square feet; completed house 985 square feet. Porches, 255 square feet. [Illustration: COMPLETED HOUSE] [Illustration: FLOOR PLAN] With their low-pitched roofs, and modest design both inside and out, plans 6520 and 6521 represent very desirable types of farmhouses. Such buildings blend with their surroundings to produce a real homey atmosphere. Originally planned for southern conditions, where a circulator heater placed in the hall should be adequate, these plans are adapted to colder regions if the houses are well constructed and are provided with basements and central heating plants as indicated on the working drawings. PLAN 6521[13] Floor areas: Superstructure, first unit 630 square feet; with first addition 985 square feet; completed house 1,285 square feet. Porches, 385 square feet. [Illustration: COMPLETED HOUSE] [Illustration: FLOOR PLAN] In both designs the development from two large rooms progresses logically, the main difference being that in plan 6520 the additions are made at the side, while in plan 6521 the new rooms are added at the rear of the first unit. Although all the rooms of 6521 a r e shown as larger than those of 6520, by slight alterations either size of house may be built from either plan. The choice should be determined largely by the slope of the building site. [Illustration: FLOOR PLAN] In each original house a temporary partition provides 2 bedrooms in place of a living room. The first addition adds 2 other bedrooms, and the removal of the partition between the temporary bedrooms provides a large living room. The second addition increases the total number of bedrooms to 3 by adding 2 and refitting 1 in the first addition as a bathroom. Each kitchen is ideally located to command a view of the driveway, highway, and farm buildings. Closets, pantry, and other equipment utilize the darker part of the room, leaving the lighter portions for working area and dining table. These arrangements are complete in the original house. On the screened back porch, which is equipped with laundry trays and closet, men coming from the fields may hang their outside work garments and, except in cold weather, wash before entering the house. Here a great deal of the dirty and messy work in preparing fruits and vegetables for canning may be done. Entrance from the screened porch to the bath or bedrooms reduces to a minimum the traffic through the kitchen and living room. In plan 6520 the screened porch might be divided by a lattice into work and living spaces. [Illustration: COMPLETED HOUSE] [Illustration: FLOOR PLAN] [13] Prepared by Eldred Mowery and C. E. Cope for the Bureaus of Agricultural Engineering and Home Economics, U.S. Department of Agriculture. PLAN 6522[14] Floor areas: Superstructure, original house 640 square feet; with addition _A_. 950 square feet; with addition _B_ 930 square feet. Porch, addition _B_, 120 square feet. On account of its compact arrangement, this low-cost house furnishes a very satisfactory amount of usable space for the small family and may be enlarged to three-bedroom size, as indicated on the plans. The kitchen is well-arranged, with moderate storage space, and a wood box filled from outside, with a ventilated cupboard or cooler above it. The workroom, unusually large for a small house, is a good place for laundry or canning and for men to clean up before coming in to meals. Dining space is provided at the rear of the living room. This house should be compared with no. 6527 (p. 36). Board and batten construction is very suitable for a low-cost house, but any other type of construction may be used for plan 6522 if preferred. If the house is built in a cold climate, probably it will be desirable to omit the fireplace and heat the living and bedrooms with a circulator heater. [Illustration: FLOOR PLAN WITH ADDITION A] [Illustration: COMPLETED HOUSE] [Illustration: FLOOR PLAN WITH ADDITION D] [14] Prepared by the Bureaus of Agricultural Engineering and Home Economics, U.S. Department of Agriculture. PLAN 6523,[15] FOR THE SOUTH Floor areas: Superstructure, first unit 990 square feet; with addition _A_ 1,420 square feet; with addition _B_ 1,375 square feet. Cellar, 350 square feet. Porches, 100 square feet. Communication between rooms is an important consideration in modern house planning. This has been provided in house 6523 by a small hall, which permits access not only from one room to another but also to the outside, the basement stairs, the washroom, the bathroom, and the linen closet, thus eliminating the necessity of using any room as a passageway. Alternate extensions are shown, the choice probably depending upon the surrounding ground contour. Addition _B_ should receive first consideration, because it brings the two new bedrooms into closer relation with the bathroom and does not destroy the washroom adjoining the rear entrance. It does, however, reduce the size of one of the first bedrooms. If addition _A_ is contemplated, the window at _X_ should be located at _Y_ when the first unit is built. The steps in the hall of addition A may be omitted if the ground slopes down at the rear so that the floor of the addition can be built at a lower level than the floor of the original house. If addition _B_ is to be used, the window at _Z_ should be located so as to come in the hall of the addition. [Illustration: COMPLETED HOUSE] [Illustration: FLOOR PLAN WITH ADDITIONS] [15] Prepared by C. W. Heery and B. G. Banner for the department of agricultural engineering, University of Georgia, PLAN 6524[16] Floor areas: Superstructure, first unit 1,245 square feet; with addition 1,735 square feet. Porches, 25 square feet. Cellar, 400 square feet. The charm of house 6524 lies in its informality and simplicity. It is built for comfort and service. The broad expanse of roof, relieved by a gable, gives it a substantial yet homelike appearance. This is an easy house to move around in, and the kitchen is very nicely arranged. The screened porch, in addition to providing a cool and inviting summer dining and work space, affords ready access to all the rooms of the house. If the future addition of bedrooms is contemplated, the hall window in the first unit should be replaced with a door. This will not only provide an extra exit from the house but obviate unnecessary cutting and tearing out when the addition is built. The cellar provides space for a central heating plant, it desired. [Illustration: VIEW COMPLETED HOUSE] [Illustration: FLOOR PLAN] [Illustration: VIEW OF KITCHEN] [16] Prepared by C. W. Heery, Fred J. Orr and B. G. Banner for the department agricultural engineering, University of Georgia. PLAN 6525[17] Floor areas: Superstructure, first unit 795 square feet; with bedroom addition 1,080 square feet; with both additions 1,375 square feet. Porches, 105 square feet. Cellar, 795 square feet. This simple farmhouse develops into a home of dignity and charm. The original unit furnishes all modern conveniences and an ample basement. Future bedrooms may be added as required, while the extended living room might be built as the final touch of growing prosperity. It will be of interest to the reader to note the similarity of arrangement of this house and no. 6519 (p. 20). These plans were developed independently, but the coincidence emphasizes the practicability of having the work and living areas on the side of the building next to the driveway and the bedrooms toward the rear, with the bathroom located as centrally as possible. The design of a small house for farm use is greatly influenced by the rather fixed location of the kitchen. [Illustration: MAIN FLOOR PLAN SHOWING FUTURE ADDITIONS] [Illustration: BASEMENT PLAN] [Illustration: VIEW OF ORIGINAL UNIT] [Illustration: VIEW OF COMPLETE HOUSE] [17] Prepared by H. B. Boynton and J. M. Thompson for the department of agricultural engineering, Virginia Polytechnic Institute. MODERATE-SIZED ONE-STORY HOUSES Houses of this group can best be built complete at one time, though in several cases it is noted that rooms may be omitted from the original building or extra rooms added. The larger houses of this group provide about the same features as the completed growing houses. The more compact two-bedroom houses are well adapted to farms where two or more separate dwellings are needed. PLAN 6526,[18] FOR TIMBERED SECTIONS Floor areas; Superstructure, 845 square feet. Porches, 300 square feet. In spite of present-day improvements in building materials, there is something about the rugged appearance of a log cabin that harmonizes with rural settings. Log construction blends into wooded surroundings more intimately than boards, bricks, or stucco. House 6526 will accommodate 4 persons comfortably, or even 5 or 6 persons if a couch is placed in a corner of the living room. The location of the bathroom not only serves the bedrooms but is convenient to the kitchen and the rear porch. [Illustration: FLOOR PLAN] The central chimney serves the kitchen range, circulator heater, and fireplace. The ample size of the kitchen, and its built-in cupboards, dish cabinets, and other conveniences add greatly to the desirability of the design. If a pass cupboard between kitchen and living room is desired, it may be arranged in the cabinet next to the outer wall. [Illustration: VIEW OF COMPLETED HOUSE] [18] Prepared by N. G. Napier for the department of agricultural engineering, University of Arkansas. PLAN 6527[19] Floor areas: Superstructure, main house, 915 square feet; with storage addition 1,120 square feet. Cellar, 115 square feet. Porches, 130 square feet. This house is similar in many respects to the first unit of 6522 (p. 26), but is enlarged to provide for the bathroom. A shallow root cellar with room above is added at the rear of the house to provide extra storage if needed in localities where a cellar is not practicable. As in the case of plan 6522, two more bedrooms may be added to the left side of the house by taking space from the rear bedroom for a hallway. [Illustration: FLOOR PLAN] The house is planned to be heated by a jacketed heater in the workroom with a cold-air return duct under the floor and cold-air registers in the living room and bedrooms. This arrangement will keep all handling of coal and ashes out of the living parts of the house. [Illustration: VIEW OF COMPLETED HOUSE] [19] Prepared by O. R. S. Trabor for the department of agricultural engineering, University of Missouri. PLAN 6528,[20] FOR THE NORTH Floor areas: Superstructure, 800 square feet. Cellar, 800 square feet. House 6528 is intended for use in cold, snowy regions, where farmers need cellars for storing fuel and vegetables. The hip roof helps to brace the house against the wind and is economical of material. A well-insulated ceiling is recommended to help keep the house comfortable. The substantial chimney in the center of the house, with separate flues for furnace, kitchen range, and fireplace, insures good draft and no wasted heat. The vestibule at the front and the hall arrangement at the side door also aid in keeping the house warm. Both doors are convenient to the driveway and the path to the barn. [Illustration: FLOOR PLAN] The washroom and laundry of this house are in the cellar. This is a satisfactory and economical arrangement where there is good drainage for both the cellar and the plumbing fixtures, and is particularly advantageous on rolling ground. But one should beware of putting a deep cellar in a poorly drained location. (See Farmers' Bulletin 1572, Making Cellars Dry.) [Illustration: VIEW OF COMPLETED HOUSE] [20] Prepared by S. A. Witzel for the department of agricultural engineering, University of Wisconsin. PLAN 6529[21] Floor areas: Superstructure, 740 square feet. Porches, 250 square feet. This house was designed to meet the needs of a family of 4 to 6 people. The porch faces the highway, and paths from the front and side porches lead to the farm drive. The kitchen is complete and compact. The extra space found in many farm kitchens has been omitted and a workroom added to provide for laundry and other rough work. This also provides a place for men to leave their outer wraps and wash before entering the living room. Storage space can be obtained in the attic by the use of a disappearing stair in the workroom ceiling. No wood or coal range is provided for in this plan, because the use of an oil, gas, or electric stove saves space in the kitchen and correspondingly reduces the cost of the house. This saving and the convenience of a small, compact cooking unit deserve careful consideration in localities where these fuels are cheaply available. Heating is accomplished by means of a circulator heater in the living room. The designer of this plan states: The bedrooms are small. They are little used during waking hours, thus they can be reduced with less injury to family comfort than any other room. The large living room more than compensates for this. When funds are limited it is always debatable, in a great portion of the United States, whether spending money for a porch is wise, because the same money could be used instead to increase the area of the house proper. In this particular case the porch could be left off without harm. [Illustration: VIEW OF COMPLETED HOME AND FLOOR PLAN] [21] Prepared by H. E. Wichers and O. S. Ekdahl for the department of architecture, Kansas State Agricultural College. PLAN 6530[22] Floor areas: Superstructure, 1,155 square feet. Porches, 245 square feet. The well-known economy of square house construction is illustrated by this plan. A choice of heating methods without a cellar is indicated. If a circulator heater is used in the hall, as shown, the chimney between the bedrooms will not be needed, and if extra bedrooms are wanted they may be added as in plan 6517 (p. 18). A fireplace in the back bedroom would, of course, interfere with taking a hall off this room. [Illustration: FLOOR PLAN] Kitchen doors are located to permit easy communication between the screened porch and the hall without interference with the work area while the screened porch is useful as both work and dining area. This latter feature, together with the ample size of the bedrooms, living room kitchen, makes the dwelling especially suitable for the small family in the South. The addition of a cellar under one-half of the house and of a central heating plant would adapt this plan to other sections of the country, though the rooms are rather larger than is common in the North. [Illustration: VIEW OF COMPLETED HOME] [22] Prepared by W. C. Breithaupt and H. W. Dearing for the department of agricultural engineering, Alabama Polytechnic Institute. PLAN 6531[23] Floor areas: Superstructure, 1,185 square feet. Porches, 155 square feet. House 6531 should be compared with no. 6533. The two plans were developed independently, but are very similar and illustrate a logical grouping of rooms for a farmhouse. In some respects the arrangement of 6531 works out more satisfactorily because it is not restricted by the structural details of framing a pitched roof. This house is a model of compactness and efficiency. Note the simple but effective way in which the kitchen and heater room are located back to back. The floor of the heater room is a concrete slab, two steps below the main floor level. A pass cupboard between the kitchen and dining room is handy for serving meals. It also provides storage space beneath its counter. The entire bedroom side may be omitted from the original house, in which case the workroom would serve for dining and the dining room for a bedroom. All dimensions of this house are multiples of 3-1/2 feet. Wall, door, and window sections might be prefabricated so that erection would consist merely of bolting the sections together, or the house can be built in the ordinary way. The sketch at the top of page 41 illustrates the use of sheet metal as an exterior covering, the one in the center shows concrete blocks, and the bottom view shows the walls covered with a combination of lap siding and shingles or wide boards. The flat roof should be covered with good roofing and well-insulated for comfort in both summer and winter as described in the working drawings. The cost of the insulated flat roof should not be greater than that of an ordinary pitched roof without insulation. The accumulation of snow will help to keep the building warm. [Illustration: FLOOR PLAN] [Illustration: VIEW OF COMPLETED HOME] [Illustration: VIEW OF COMPLETED HOME] [Illustration: VIEW OF COMPLETED HOME] [23] Prepared by Albert Frey for the Bureaus of Agricultural Engineering and Home Economies, U.S. Department of Agriculture. PLAN 6532[24] Floor areas: Superstructure, 1,125 square feet Porches, 35 square feet. This is a new type of low-cost house designed to provide five small single bedrooms or sleeping compartments and one bedroom of average size. The sleeping compartments are not very large, but to secure privacy and yet maintain economy of construction, something must be sacrificed. In this case it is unnecessary space. [Illustration: VIEW OF COMPLETED HOME AND FLOOR PLAN] The sketch showing the arrangement of bunks illustrates an interesting feature of this house. In the right-hand room the bunk is near the floor, and wardrobe and dresser space is obtained in the partition between the two rooms. In the left-hand room the bunk is 4 feet above the floor and projects over the one on the other side of the partition. Wardrobe space is arranged under the bunk. This room is especially suitable for a boy. A folding study table is provided under the window in each room. On warm nights air circulation would be obtained by opening the bedroom doors to the hall, which is ventilated by the windows above the lower roof. By omitting all but one of the partitions forming the five small bedrooms two good-sized rooms can be obtained. [Illustration: CROSS SECTION OF BEDROOMS AND WARDROBE AT B-B] [Illustration: SIDE VIEW OF BUNK AT A-A] The exterior appearance may seem, at first glance, unusually severe, but by omitting a pitched roof and the ornamental features of cornice moldings and trim decorations, the cost of construction is materially lowered. Here everything has been reduced to the simplest form possible. With the heater room adjoining the kitchen, there is little need for a basement, thus an important item of expense is eliminated. The kitchen and workroom form a compact and very convenient unit along the driveway side of the house, while the large living room commands a good view of the highway. The living room and halls are lighted and ventilated by the small windows above the lower roofs. Closet space is provided in every room. As in plan 6531 (p. 40), all dimensions are multiples of 3-1/2 feet so that the house can be either prefabricated or built in the ordinary way. [24] Prepared by Albert Frey and R. G. Allen for the Bureaus of Agricultural Engineering and Home Economics, U.S. Department of Agriculture. PLAN 6533[25] Floor areas: Superstructure, 1,130 square feet. Porch, 80 square feet. Cellar, 280 square feet. House 6533 is one of the few designs in which a separate dining space was allotted. Many people do not consider a separate dining room essential in the small farmhouse, and additional space adds to the cost, but in this case the arrangement adds to the spaciousness of the interior without greatly increasing the cost. The rear entry is large enough to serve as laundry and washroom, and constitutes a back way from the kitchen to the bedrooms and bathroom without passing through the living room. The kitchen, with cross ventilation and ample cupboard and counter space, is a pleasant workshop for the housewife, and is so arranged that easy service to the dining alcove is possible. The bedrooms and adjoining bath are grouped together, allowing that portion of the house to be closed off from the living portion. In the cellar is the heating plant, with fuel bin. The house is kept low to give it an appearance of hugging the ground, but in no case should the joists be below the ground level. Shingles, beveled siding, or clapboards may be used for the exterior surface. [Illustration: FLOOR PLAN] [25] Prepared by Max Uhlig for the department of agricultural engineering, Massachusetts Agricultural College. [Illustration: VIEW OF COMPLETED HOUSE] * * * * * HOUSES OF MORE THAN ONE STORY In many respects houses of more than one story are better suited for farm use in the Northern States than single-story buildings. They are more economical in foundation and roof construction, and are easier to heat. They should be arranged with one bedroom and a bath, or at least a toilet, on the ground floor. A cellar for fuel and vegetable storage and a central heating plant are usually needed with this type of house. The laundry may also be located in the cellar if suitable drainage and a grade door to the outside can be obtained, but in a poorly drained location it is best to keep the laundry above-ground. In building a cellar advantage should be taken of the slope of the ground to obtain good lighting and an easy entrance on the low side of the slope. To avoid uncomfortably warm second-floor bedrooms in summer cross ventilation should be provided in each room. Insulation of the ceiling is valuable both in summer and in winter. It is very convenient to have a bathroom on the second-floor as well as one on the first-floor, especially if rooms are to be rented to tourists when the family does not need the whole house. PLAN 6534[26] Floor areas: Superstructure, original house, 1,420 square feet; with living room addition, 1,720 square feet. Cellar, 775 square feet. Porches, 285 square feet. [Illustration: MAIN FLOOR PLAN] [Illustration: SECOND FLOOR PLAN] The first-floor and cellar plans of house 6534 are almost the same as the original unit of no. 6525 (p. 32), but there are comfortable bedrooms, a bath, and closet space on the second-floor. If funds are available to build the living room wing indicated, the entire dwelling will breathe the traditional southern spirit of hospitable spaciousness. The hall and stair arrangements of this house are very good. Persons coming in at the back door can leave wraps in the vestibule at the head of the cellar stairs and go directly to any downstairs room or to the cellar, yet there is little lost space. If the house should at some time be occupied by a small family, the entire upstairs could be shut off. Persons wishing rooms for tourists will find either the upstairs bedrooms or the downstairs bedroom and bath very suitable for this purpose. [Illustration: VIEW OF ORIGINAL UNIT] [Illustration: VIEW OF COMPLETED HOUSE] [26] Prepared by H. B. Boynton and J. M. Thompson for the department of agricultural engineering, Virginia Polytechnic Institute. PLAN 6535[27] Floor areas: Superstructure, 820 square feet. Porch, 30 square feet. This might well be considered the smallest story-and-a-half farmhouse that could be practicably built. The designer has utilized the space to good advantage, omitting a bath in the original structure for the sake of economy. The working drawings show a future addition to the house which provides a bedroom and bath on the first-floor. The alternate floor plan shows a dormer in the rear like the one on the front, to make room for a second-floor bath. A distinctive feature of this compact design is the =L=-shaped kitchen with its well-grouped and well-lighted working surfaces and dining table. The arrangement of an =L=-shaped room is often a problem when enlarging or remodeling. The living room is arranged for both day and night use, with a folding bed in a closet. [Illustration: VIEW OF COMPLETED HOUSE] [Illustration: FIRST FLOOR PLAN] [Illustration: ALTERNATE FIRST FLOOR PLAN] [Illustration: SECOND FLOOR PLAN] [Illustration: ALTERNATE SECOND FLOOR PLAN] [27] Prepared by C. T Bridgman for the department of agricultural engineering, Iowa State College. PLAN 6536,[28] FOR THE NORTH Floor areas: Superstructure, 1560 square feet. Cellar, 400 square feet. Porch, 210 square feet. This design illustrates a type of farmhouse frequently built in recent years because of its simple lines and economy of construction. It illustrates the pleasing possibility of fitting the farmhouse to sloping ground, with ample light in the basement and easy flights of steps between the house proper, the large workroom at the rear, and the cellar. [Illustration: FIRST FLOOR PLAN] The partition between the main rooms downstairs is carried up to divide the second-floor, giving these bedrooms ample size and good cross ventilation and making a strong construction that will not sag in years to come. A second bathroom may be provided in the storage space by the chimney, thus adding to the comfort of the home and making the upstairs rooms suitable for rental to tourists if desired. The roof should be insulated to give comfort both in summer and in winter. [Illustration: INTERIOR VIEW OF KITCHEN] [Illustration: VIEW OF COMPLETED HOUSE] [Illustration: SECOND FLOOR PLAN] The downstairs hall, lighted by the windows on the stairs, is compact and provides easy communication between all rooms. The living room is well-lighted and has good wall spaces for furniture. The combined kitchen and dining room, with the sink at right angles to the outside wall, as shown in the interior view, gives the housewife three walls of continuous work surfaces and in addition light and the view from all the windows of the room. Children can play or older members visit in the dining end with slight interference to the housewife's work. This is especially helpful on chilly days in the fall and spring when the kitchen stove provides the only heat in the house. The part basement furnishes space for a furnace and for storage of fruits and vegetables. [28] Prepared by C. J. Poiesz and Eldred Mowery for the Bureaus of Agricultural Engineering and Home Economics, U.S. Department of Agriculture. PLAN 6537[29] Floor areas: Superstructure (including enclosed porch) 1,520 square feet. Cellar, 840 square feet. Terrace and steps, 100 square feet. House 6537 is similar in many respects to no. 6536, and has much the same advantages, though the rooms are somewhat smaller. A second downstairs bedroom can be added beside the bathroom, if needed, or the two bedrooms on the second-floor can be left unfinished if funds are not on hand to complete the building in the beginning. The sketch indicates the roof line sweeping down snug over the window of the first-floor bedroom, a feature which is carried out with similar success in plan 6538. Designs of this type help to keep a two-story home from appearing too tall and make it a more harmonious unit in the farmstead scheme. [Illustration: FIRST FLOOR PLAN] [Illustration: VIEW OF COMPLETED HOUSE] [Illustration: SECOND FLOOR PLAN] [29] Prepared by T. A. Zink for the department of agricultural engineering, Purdue University. PLAN 6538[30] Floor areas: Superstructure, 1,740 square feet. Cellar, 385 square feet. Stoops, 80 square feet. House 6538 may be roofed in a number of ways, with slight alterations in the arrangement of the second-floor. The appearance is, of course, greatly altered; but in each case is pleasing. With the modernistic flat roof, any waste spaces caused by the sloping roofs in the other designs are eliminated. The storage room on the second-floor then becomes suitable for a child's bedroom, a sewing room, or an office, and the flat-deck porch roof will serve as a sleeping porch. [Illustration: VIEW OF COMPLETED HOUSE] The plan is simple and well proportioned. Since the arrangement of the entrance is a little unusual, the location of the driveway and the path to the barn should be given careful study before deciding upon the site and placing of the house. [Illustration: FIRST FLOOR PLAN] [Illustration: VIEW OF COMPLETED HOUSES] Construction should be simple. In the case of the modernistic house, concrete or stucco is suggested for the first story and boards and battens for the second. [Illustration: SECOND FLOOR PLAN] [30] Prepared by W. K. Bartges and Earl Barnett for the department of agricultural engineering. University of California.. PLAN 6539,[31] FOR THE NORTH [Illustration: VIEW OF FIRST STAGE] Floor areas: Superstructure, original house, 1,100 square feet; with kitchen addition, 1,270 square feet; with all additions shown, 1,620 square feet. Porches, original house, 90 square feet; completed house, 285 square feet. Cellar, 565 square feet. [Illustration: FIRST FLOOR PLAN] Thousands of farmhouses in all parts of the North and Middle West have begun like house 6539, and the development illustrated for this one should offer helpful suggestions both to farmers who plan to build new and those who expect to remodel present houses. It is a very practical design, expressing honest dignity. [Illustration: SECOND FLOOR PLAN] The plans on this page show the original unit, which would supply a comfortable yet economical dwelling, with a basement for fuel and storage. The first addition might be either the new 7 kitchen and porch or the downstairs bedroom, bath, and laundry. If needed, a third upstairs bedroom and a bathroom can be added over those in the first-floor addition, as shown in the working drawings, with little loss of material or work, because the downstairs bedroom has a flat-deck roof. This would increase the floor area of the superstructure to 1,900 square feet. [Illustration: VIEW OF COMPLETED HOUSE] [Illustration: FIRST FLOOR PLAN WITH ADDITIONS] [31] Prepared by J. M. Deibert for the Bureaus of Agricultural Engineering and Home Economics, U.S. Department of Agriculture. PLAN 6540[32] Floor areas: Superstructure, 1,380 square feet. Porch, 70 square feet. Cellar, 760 square feet. This plan is intended for use in the North, where the compact floor plan with cellar and inside chimney and the front vestibule will simplify the heating problem. The first-floor level is above the ordinary height of packed snow in winter, but the grade entrance gives easy communication with both the cellar and the main part of the house. This permits convenient use of the cellar as a washroom and laundry, if in a well-drained location, as well as for storage purposes. The house is roomy and well-arranged, with a downstairs bedroom and bathroom. By a slight change to make the second-floor like the first, a bathroom or toilet could be arranged in the large closet by the stairs. Storage space is provided in the attic. All second-floor partitions are directly above those of the first floor, thus making a strong, rigid house with the least framing material. [Illustration: FIRST FLOOR PLAN] [Illustration: SECOND FLOOR PLAN] [Illustration: COMPLETED HOUSE] [32] Prepared by H. W. Orth and R. A. Gmeinder for the division of agricultural engineering, University of Minnesota. VERY SMALL HOUSES The dimensions of the houses in the very-small-house group are kept to the minimum by using the living rooms for sleeping rooms at night. These houses cannot be considered adequate for the typical farm family, but will serve for young married couples or for tenants with small families. PLAN 6501[33] Floor areas: Superstructure, 325 square feet. Stoop, 15 square feet. In plan 6501, sleeping space is provided in double-deck beds screened from the living room by draw curtains. If more space is wanted later, a bedroom wing can be added at the end of the living room. To save space, the kitchen is planned for an oil, gas, or electric stove. With a house of this size, part of the housework would have to be done outdoors, and a paved or graveled space under a tree near the house would be a convenience. [Illustration: FLOOR PLAN] [Illustration: COMPLETED HOUSE] [33] Prepared by H. E. Wichers, N. F. Resell, and O. S. Ekdahl, for Kansas State College. PLAN 6502[34] Floor areas: Superstructure, 600 square feet. Stoop, 35 square feet. The special feature of plan 6502 is the well-arranged kitchen, with good storage space and a compact work area at one side of the direct line of travel from the back door. Some privacy at night is afforded by the double wardrobes and folding screen between the two beds in the living room. The side porch will serve the double purpose of workroom and sleeping porch. It should be screened and have curtains to keep out the rain. By adding 4 feet to the living room and an additional partition, a third room could be provided. A shower bath may be installed in the large closet as shown. [Illustration: COMPLETED HOUSE] [Illustration: FLOOR PLAN] [34] Prepared by A. L. Matthews and N. G. Napier for the department of agricultural engineering, University of Arkansas, PLAN 6503[35] Floor areas: Superstructure, original house 520 square feet; with addition, 825 square feet. Small homes are often cut up into several rooms, with the result that in them a person has a "boxed-in" feeling. In plan 6503 the rooms are few, and each is used for more than one purpose. If the cost must be kept to a minimum, the bedroom and sleeping porch may be omitted in the original construction. The kitchen-dining room is unusually large for a house of this size, and the equipment is grouped in the front part of the room where the housewife can have a good view of the highway. When the bedroom and sleeping porch are built, the bunk in the kitchen-dining room may be taken out to provide more dining space; or if one desires a cellar under part of the house, the cellar stairway may replace the bunk space. A large window and high-beamed ceiling are features of the living room. The chimney must not be too small; it is a feature of the house. [Illustration: FLOOR PLAN] [Illustration: COMPLETED HOUSE] [35] Prepared by R. A. Deal and W. W. DeNeff for the department of agricultural engineering, State College of Washington. PLAN 6504,[36] FOR THE SOUTHWEST Floor areas: Superstructure, 430 square feet. Porches, 145 square feet. Plans 6504 and 6505 were designed for the central valleys of California, where outdoor sleeping is invited, by the mild nights. These were designed for temporary homes to be used later as shops, bunk houses, storage buildings, or for other uses, so concrete floors are recommended. Low-cost "frameless" construction is shown in the working drawings. There are no ceilings. The shower baths shown in the plans can be installed cheaply. The kitchens and work porches are large enough for the needs of a good-sized family. Plenty of windows are provided for ventilation. The kitchen arrangement shows a wood-burning stove, and a large refrigerator placed against an inside wall for protection from the outdoor heat. It is expected that meals will ordinarily be eaten in the kitchen or outdoors. [Illustration: FLOOR PLAN] [Illustration: COMPLETED HOUSE] PLAN 6505,[36] FOR THE SOUTHWEST Floor areas: Superstructure, 410 square feet. Porches, 125 square feet. [Illustration: COMPLETED HOUSE] [Illustration: FLOOR PLAN] [36] Prepared by W. K. Bartges and Earl Barnett for the department of agricultural engineering, University of California. PLAN 6506,[37] FOR NEW ENGLAND Floor areas: Superstructure, 540 square feet. Porches, 60 square feet. Though the rooms in plan 6506 have been kept as small as possible in order to reduce cost, good use of space is realized in the arrangement. Additions to the house would enable it to accommodate an average-sized family. A work-porch addition beside the kitchen and living room, between the windows, would provide a place for laundry work and for hanging outer wraps. A bathroom might be built by enclosing a portion of the front porch and enlarging the window to make a doorway from the hall. If desired, a third bedroom could be added at the end of the living room. [Illustration: COMPLETED HOUSE] [Illustration: FLOOR PLAN] [37] Prepared by Bernhard Dirks for the department of agricultural engineering, Massachusetts State College. PLAN 6507,[38] FOR THE NORTH Floor areas: Superstructure, original house, 380 square feet; with first addition 600 square feet. Porches and entrances, 50 square feet. Cellar, first unit 380 square feet; with addition 600 square feet. Plan 6507 is intended for snowy sections, and the first-floor is purposely raised above the winter snow level. The house can be built in either one or two stages. No partition divides the kitchen and living room, which permits heating the house with the kitchen range in mild weather. It also aids ventilation in summer and facilitates serving of meals in the living room. The steps to the cellar are outside the house, protected by a storm door. There is ample space in the cellar for laundry and storage. A cistern under the kitchen provides soft water. [Illustration: FLOOR PLAN AND COMPLETED HOUSE] [38] Prepared by S. A. Witzel for the department of agricultural engineering, University of Wisconsin. [Illustration: COMPLETED HOUSE] PLAN 6508,[39] FOR THE NORTHWEST Floor areas: Superstructure, first stage 385 square feet; second stage 605 square feet; third stage 755 square feet. Porches and steps, first stage 20 square feet; second and third stages 70 square feet. This house is designed for the minimum requirements of beginners on the land, the first portion being 16 by 24 feet outside. It may either be enlarged for a permanent dwelling or later used as a service building. The bedroom is ample in size, but the living room, because it must also be used temporarily as a kitchen and dining room, will be crowded. This unit may be made 18 feet instead of 16 feet wide. Later the kitchen and a small bedroom may be added at the rear of the first unit, with a side porch off the kitchen. The door between the kitchen and living room will then be changed to the right of the chimney, and a narrow hall taken off the rear of the front bedroom. [Illustration: FLOOR PLAN] If an additional bedroom is desired, it can be added to the left of the bathroom, making the third stage for this house. The closet in the kitchen should be removed and a door cut through to allow easy access from the kitchen to the bath and bedrooms. The bedroom closets must be rearranged to allow for these changes. [Illustration: COMPLETED HOUSE] [Illustration: FLOOR PLAN] [39] Prepared by R. A. Deal and W. W. DeNeff for the department of agricultural engineering, State College of Washington. PLAN 6509,[40] FOR THE SOUTH Floor areas: Superstructure, 525 square feet. Porches and steps, 90 square feet. [Illustration: COMPLETED HOUSE] [Illustration: FLOOR PLAN] Plans 6509 and 6510, for the South and the Middle West, respectively, are low-cost houses for families that need only one bedroom. The kitchens are well-arranged and have good storage space. Closet space also is ample for houses of this size. A storage and workroom, as shown in plan 6510, is a good feature for the North but is not so much needed in the South, where mild weather permits doing much housework outdoors. The living room fireplace and kitchen range should heat house 6509 comfortably under ordinary southern conditions, but in the North arrangements should be made for a stove or circulator heater as in plan 6510. [40] Prepared by W. C. Breithaupt and H. W. Dearing for the department of agricultural engineering, Alabama Polytechnic Institute. PLAN 6510,[41] FOR THE MIDDLE WEST Floor areas: Superstructure, 740 square feet. Porches and steps, 60 square feet. [Illustration: FLOOR PLAN AND COMPLETED HOUSE] [41] Prepared by H. J. McKee and Arthur Wupper for the department of agricultural engineering, University of Illinois. * * * * * U.S. GOVERNMENT PRINTING OFFICE: 1934 For sale by the Superintendent of Documents, Washington, D.C. Price 10 cents * * * * * Transcriber Notes All illustration were move so that paragraphs were not split. All plan footnotes were moved to the end of that plan. All plan illustrations were captioned and standardized to ALL CAPS. 
41781	----	Transcriber's note: Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). [oe] represents the oe ligature. Friendly Contributions for 1842. THE COUNTRY HOUSE, (WITH DESIGNS,) Edited by LADY MARY FOX. London: J. Murray, Albemarle Street. MDCCCXLIII. C. Whittingham, Tooks Court, Chancery Lane. [Heading illustration] PREFACE. Hitherto the Contributions have appeared in a small volume: but a friend having furnished me with the Manuscripts of the following Letters, in order to do justice to the beautiful designs, it has been necessary to increase the size of the work. I trust that the merit of the drawings will reconcile my subscribers to the increased price. The observation on the style fittest for domestic architecture, the description of the proposed house and the designs, are by Monsieur De Chateauneuf; to these, Mr. Eastlake kindly added a very valuable Letter on the Principles of Interior Decoration. Monsieur De Chateauneuf is already known in this country by his elegant work, ARCHITECTURA DOMESTICA, and his design for the new Royal Exchange; all who have visited Hamburg must be well acquainted with the refined taste which characterizes the buildings erected under his superintendance. It is but justice to M. De Chateauneuf to state that his letters were written merely as matter of amusement, and arose out of a discussion with a friend, as to which was the best style to be adopted for domestic architecture; the letters have been translated from the German, and unfortunately have not had the advantage of being submitted to the writer for correction. It is proposed that the next volume should contain a reprint of the late Mr. Whately's admirable work on Modern Gardening; this it is hoped will be considered as a fit companion to the "COUNTRY HOUSE." I take this opportunity of thanking Mr. C. Knight and Mr. Jackson, who kindly furnished me with the blocks from which the vignettes have been printed. MARY FOX. [Decorative illustration] [Heading illustration] ROYAL SCHOOLS OF INDUSTRY, AT KENSINGTON, THE POTTERIES, AND SHEPHERDS' BUSH. Patron: HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS THE DUKE OF SUSSEX. Patronesses: LADY ELIZABETH WHITBREAD, LADY AUGUSTA GORDON, LADY MARY FOX, LADY (V) HOLLAND. HONOURABLE MISS FOX, LADY CALCOTT, MRS. VALPY. IT is now ten years since the first of these Schools was established, and instruction is now afforded to nearly _one hundred and fifty_ children of the poorer class, who, but for this aid, would linger on in idleness and ignorance. The teaching is not merely confined to reading and writing; the main object of the Schools is to inculcate habits of industry, and to teach the principles and practice of the Christian Religion. On the formation of the Schools, the plan of self-support was adopted, each child contributing a weekly payment--Infants, 1_d._; Girls who are taught to work, and the younger Boys, pay 2_d._; and the elder Boys, who are taught to write, 3_d._ Although these payments go some way towards the maintenance of the Establishment, yet the funds hitherto have been found very inadequate, and the deficiency has been supplied by voluntary contributions, the produce of bazaars, ladies' work, &c. One of the most successful sources of profit has been a small Volume, printed under the title of "Friendly Contributions;" the profits from the sale of this Work have been applied to the support of the Schools: three Volumes have already appeared, and the present forms the fourth. It is conceived that it is unnecessary now to urge one word in favour of the absolute necessity of affording education to all; the question is narrowed to the consideration of what are the most efficient means by which this great object is to be accomplished; it is hoped that, notwithstanding the many excellent charities which claim the attention of the benevolent, few will be found unwilling to aid an Institution which, in addition to teaching to read and write, instils habits of industry and inculcates the principles of Christianity amongst the children of one of the poorest and most populous districts around London. LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. THE QUEEN (five copies). H. R. H. PRINCE ALBERT. THE QUEEN ADELAIDE (ten copies). THE DUCHESS OF KENT. H. R. H. THE DUKE OF SUSSEX. H. R. H. THE DUCHESS OF GLOUCESTER (five copies). THE DUCHESS OF INVERNESS. THE DUCHESS OF SUTHERLAND. EARL AMHERST. LORD ASHBROOK. JOHN ALLEN, ESQ. SIR H. BUNBURY. LADY BUNBURY. MRS. BASSET. MRS. BLAKE. MRS. BETHUNE. THE ARCHDEACON BERENS. HENRY BERENS, ESQ. RICHARD BERENS, ESQ. JACOB HANS BUSH, ESQ. ROBERT BICKNELL, ESQ. CHARLES DACRES BEVAN, ESQ. ROBERT BEVAN, ESQ. EDWARD BLORE, ESQ. MISS HARRIET CLARKE. THE COUNTESS OF CARNARVON. LORD COLBORNE. HON. R. CLIVE. DR. CHAMBERS (two copies). LADY MARY COLE. I. G. TIMURAN. MESSRS. COUTTS AND CO. (five copies). MRS. BEAUMONT COLES. RICHARD D. CRAIG, ESQ. JOHN BONHAM CARTER, ESQ. C. ROBERT COCKERELL, ESQ. R. A. B. BOND CABBELL, ESQ. THE HON. ANNABELLA CREWE. DAVID DUNDAS, ESQ. F. D. DANVERS, ESQ. CHARLES PALMER DIMOND, ESQ. SAMUEL DUCKWORTH, ESQ. LEWIS DUVAL, ESQ. MRS. LEWIS DILLWYN. MRS. DIMSDALE. MRS. GENERAL DORRIEN. WILLIAM EASTLAKE, ESQ. CHARLES LOCK EASTLAKE, ESQ. R. A. GEORGE EASTLAKE, ESQ. GEORGE EASTLAKE, ESQ. JUNIOR. WILLIAM ETTY, ESQ. R. A. HON. MISS FOX (two copies). COLONEL FOX (three copies). B. FRERE, ESQ. MRS. B. FRERE. J. B. FREELAND, ESQ. LADY E. GOWER. MRS. R. HANBURY GURNEY. MISS GURNEY. SIR J. L. GOLDSMID, BART. G. B. GREENOUGH, ESQ. J. R. GOWAN, ESQ. J. R. GARDINER, ESQ. HENRY GAWLER, ESQ. MISS GORDON. MISS GULSTON. MISS STEPNEY GULSTON. LADY (V) HOLLAND. MRS. HOLLAND. LORD HATHERTON. MRS. HUSKISSON. LIEUT.-GENERAL HUSKISSON. RICHARD HARRISON, ESQ. MRS. CHARLES HALL. MRS. HOUSEMAN. MRS. JOHN HOUSEMAN. THE COUNTESS OF KERRY (two copies). THE EARL OF ILCHESTER. MRS. GEORGE JENNER. DAVID JARDINE, ESQ. SIR JAMES KEMPT. MRS. H. BELLENDEN KER. THE MARQUISS OF LANSDOWNE. THE MARCHIONESS OF LANSDOWNE. LADY ELIZABETH LEVISON. SIR THOMAS BARRETT LENNARD, BART. THOMAS BARRETT LENNARD, ESQ. SIR DENIS LE MARCHANT, BART. JOHN GEORGE LEFEVRE, ESQ. EDMUND LUDLOW, ESQ. HENRY LOWE, ESQ. JOHN MALCOLM LUDLOW, ESQ. JAMES LONSDALE, ESQ. DOWAGER COUNTESS MONSON. LADY MACDONALD. LADY MAYO. CAPTAIN MEYNELL. MRS. MITCHELL. THE HON. MRS. OFFLEY. OLD WINDSOR BOOK CLUB. LADY JANE PEEL. LADY PELLEW. LADY PECHELL. MISS PRICE. MR. PANIZZI. F. PIGOU, ESQ. J. DELAFIELD PHELPS, ESQ. LOUIS HAYES PETIT, ESQ. REV. J. LEWIS PETIT (two copies). FRANCIS BARLOW ROBINSON, ESQ. SAMUEL ROGERS, ESQ. MISS ROGERS. JOHN RICHARDS, ESQ. SIR JAMES SOUTH. LADY SOUTH. RIGHT HON. V. SMITH. MRS. V. SMITH. CHARLES STOKES, ESQ. CHARLES SWEETING, ESQ. REV. CLEMENT STRONG. THOMAS TEESDALE, ESQ. J. THOMSON, ESQ. (Clitheroe.) FRANCIS CHARLES TROWER, ESQ. W. H. TINNEY, ESQ. REV. T. M. TREHERNE. MRS. TREHERNE. SIR CHARLES VAUGHAN. R. VALPY, ESQ. MRS. VALPY. M. VANDE WEYER (two copies). LADY WALPOLE. LADY ELIZABETH WHITBREAD. W. WINGFIELD, ESQ. MRS. WICKHAM. MRS. WIMBERLY. MISS WALLS. R. WHITE, ESQ. J. WINTLE, ESQ. [Heading illustration] LETTER I. DEAR SIR, AS I am about to build a new house, I have determined to avail myself of your assistance, should it be convenient to you to give it. I do not by so doing intend that it should be supposed I think that the many very intelligent architects in this country are incapable of giving me good advice; but independently of my friendship for you, and great respect for your talents, I wish to consult one who is not likely to be so much wedded to the routine of modern Italian villas, Elizabethan houses, and thatched cottages, as is the case with most of our English professors: not that I mean to say anything in disparagement of a Palladian villa, always beautiful, though not always best suited to our climate. I am also fully sensible of many of the beauties of the old Elizabethan houses, and also of some of the imitations of them; and a small thatched cottage is very pretty. I shall begin by stating the sort of house we want, and give a short description of the ground on which it is proposed to build it, in order that you may in the first place, give your notions as to the site, and the style which you would recommend. On the style, perhaps you would give us your views in detail, pointing out, as far as your leisure and inclination will permit, the merits of each, and which on the whole you prefer. As regards the ground, we have no park, but sufficient extent of land to make a large paddock very park-like: it would not suit our views to have a park: the situation is not romantic; but as the ground is poor and wild, we shall command more ornament than profit. To the north or north-west there is a rising terrace, well sheltered with high trees; this slopes down for about a quarter of a mile into the valley of the Cray; the aspect is therefore south-east, and this comes best according to the slope of the ground. If you prefer that the house should stand high, you may have in front a good terrace of at least two hundred yards long and eight feet high; if lower down the hill (half way), the terrace will not be so good, but there will be better shelter from the north wind, and at the back there will be rising ground, through which the walks of the pleasure ground may be conducted, and still the house will be well above the valley. In front, looking over this valley, and across some fine orchards (for which Kent is celebrated) and some waving fields of corn, there is a mass of wood on a rising hill, about equal to the hill on which we are situated; on the right there is a fine view of Knocholt beeches; in the valley there is the town of Footscray, seen through the orchard at about half a mile distant, and by a little dexterous cutting and levelling we shall be able to get a glimpse of the small winding river. On the right of the hill on which we are to build, there is a small spring at present rising in some swampy ground covered with alders; this we propose to clear, and shall be enabled, if you think it worth while, to enlarge into a small sheet of water. With this general view, you will see that we are well off as to aspect, have woods in the distance, and a valley (of no great beauty indeed, but still a valley) with a quiet stream, and this is always pleasing. I think it may be considered as a fair average specimen of English scenery, such as is met with in the southern counties. Now as regards the house. There must be a good dining-room, a good general morning room, which will serve as drawing-room, and a large library; one or two small rooms, in which to receive persons on business, &c. As regards bed-rooms, offices, &c. this will be matter of future consideration, when we have settled the important matter of site and style. I should, however, mention, that, as circumstances may make it desirable to add to the size, it will be advisable that there should be that irregularity in the plan as will admit of this, so that it may be in the end, a house costing from £10,000 to £12,000. With respect to the offices, I think we make a great mistake in England, as we manage to hide them, and lose all the benefit of increasing the size and importance of the house by these additions. I know, however, this is a very difficult point to manage, and merely throw it out for your consideration. The general building material in this part of the country is brick, though we are enabled, at no very great cost, to get some stone for window or door frames, &c. I have been reading a little about the sites of ancient villas, but shall not trouble you with my views until I receive your answer: recollect we have a bad and variable climate, though we go out as much in the winter as summer; so that there must be at once shelter from the sun for our short summer, and warmth and shelter during the long winters and cold springs. H. B. [Decorative illustration] [Heading illustration] LETTER II. FOR your letter, accept my thanks. It is doubly flattering to me, being a foreigner, to be commissioned to make the designs for the country house you intend to build. Yet while I derive great satisfaction from the task, I am impressed with the difficulties attending it, one of which is, that I am at present prevented by business from discussing the matter with you in person, and am therefore compelled to put my ideas upon paper. Simple as the commission appears, it however involves considerations of some moment, and which render it necessary that I should previously state to you my opinion in detail in regard to the style I propose to adopt. I have not forgotten what you once said to me, namely, that in order to make himself intelligible to others, it is essential that the artist should be clear as to his own meaning. I even suspect that opinions once defined, if not clearly and sincerely put down, may lead to misapprehension, and (inasmuch as they commit the person who gives them) to the misleading of the artist himself. You invite me, however, to give my opinion, and having freely stated the difficulties of the undertaking, I begin with more confidence. What then, with a view to your individual taste, is the style I would recommend as most suitable for the intended situation and purpose? And if such a question is now become not an uncommon one, you must allow that, sixty years ago, no one would have thought of proposing it to an architect for his consideration. Every architect would then have at once answered it by saying, "In that style which is in general use, and according to my own particular views of it." Or during any of the various epochs of the art, would any one have thought of suggesting to a Greek, an Italian, or native of the north of Europe, &c. to build in any other style than that belonging to their respective countries? It ought also to be borne in mind, that if we occasionally meet with an intermixture of styles, it is only in buildings of _transition periods_, during the change from one mode to another; and such periods were of only short duration, because the previous style had already outlived itself. Circumstances are now totally altered. We recognize and practically adopt various styles indiscriminately: nor is it difficult to explain how it happens that we now employ one and then another. For this, two reasons may be assigned: the first (a very meritorious one) is, that we with a generalizing view, anxiously study and investigate the most difficult examples of art. The second reason however, is of a very unsatisfactory nature, which is that in our weak hands no style has been so naturalized among us as to constitute a permanent canon by which to regulate the modifications of any and every architectural purpose. This is the cause of that indecision of style which manifests itself more or less in modern edifices, and of that changeableness of taste which has hitherto hindered us from establishing the art upon fixed principles, regulated according to the high requisites which our modern cultivation requires. We seem to be of opinion that variety of character is attainable only by variety of style: hence our Museums are classically _antique_, our churches after the mode of the middle ages, and so forth, according as the buildings happen to belong to the class in which any particular period was most distinguished for buildings of that class. The character of such examples strikes us by its expressiveness; nor do we find it difficult, with models before us that we are now acquainted with and understand, to produce the same kind of effect and expression by merely copying their physiognomy and style. He, however, who is well grounded in the study, is aware that at different periods the art was treated according to its own principles as resulting from different modes of culture; and that consequently the adoption of a style previously discarded, though it may suit the vitiated taste of the artist, as the _haut gout_ pleases the fastidious palate of the Epicure, yet it can never be pleasing to a really cultivated taste. You may think me somewhat fantastical, but it appears to me that we cannot read Homer with perfect relish in a saloon à la Louis Quatorze, or Shakespeare beneath the roof of a Grecian impluvium; and that it is only where the character of the surrounding forms and objects in some degree accord, at least do not harshly contrast with our mental occupation, that we can fully abandon ourselves to the imaginings of genius. I might, however, without impropriety, substitute "_character_" for "_style_" in the question you put to me, and my answer would then be: Let it be as noble and as cheerful as possible. Still the making a distinction between style and character does not entirely get rid of the difficulty; for a person who is as intelligent as you are in matters of art will say, "Even if you hit the character, the mere _desire_ to invent an appropriate style does not of itself satisfy me, and on this account I wish you to state more explicitly which of former styles you intend mainly to select." This I will now attempt to do, and begin by stating it as my opinion, that the most perfect architectural style is that which admits at the same time of a refined style both of sculpture and of painting:--that which, while it serves as the vehicle of graceful embellishment, can maintain an equal excellence in itself. Such, as it appears to me, is the ideal which an architect of the present day ought to keep in his mind's eye. Yet before we proceed to inquire which of the principal styles we are acquainted with possesses such a quality in the most eminent degree, it will be proper to consider what is the kind of relationship which the three separate arts of architecture, painting, and sculpture, bear to each other. According to the usual metaphor, the consanguinity is that of sisterhood. Yet in my opinion this is somewhat incorrect. In its origin and development every organic style of architecture has preceded the other two arts, consequently the relationship in which it stands to them may more properly be termed maternal, it being under her fostering protection that they have afterwards grown up: nor would it be difficult to exemplify this sort of connexion between the three arts by instances taken from different styles of architecture; and one who has applied himself to studying the motives and principles governing the formation of those different styles, will easily follow me in my remarks. The two daughter arts were unknown to, or did not exist for the earliest Asiatic architecture; on which account, imposing as its gigantic remains are, they oppress the mind by the feeling they excite of stern and monstrous vastness. In the Egyptian style the growth of the children arts appears to have been stunted and repressed by the servitude in which they were kept; nor have any later race or nation attempted to rival the massiveness of its edifices, tattooed over with hieroglyphics. It is only in the genuine architecture of ancient Greece itself, and in the Italian style of the fifteenth century, that we meet with all the three arts growing up to completeness together, and as is universally acknowledged, brought to a very high degree of refinement and perfection. Notwithstanding the long continued progressive formation and manifold development of Gothic architecture, that style failed to attach to, and as it were to incorporate with itself the two kindred arts, which were checked both by unfavourableness of climate, and by war and political disturbances. Architecture was therefore compelled to trust chiefly to its own power and resources, employing sculpture and painting merely as subordinate decoration. And who shall say that this style, so full of creative power, would not have preserved itself more pure, have avoided falling into the cold and gloomy on the one hand, the bizarre and overloaded on the other, could it have availed itself of the assistance of sculpture and painting, so that they should have accompanied it in all the varieties of its times and developments? This was to an extent the case with Arabian architecture,[1] which, both in regard to the dominion it obtained and its organization, has many points of similarity with the nearly contemporary Gothic style, notwithstanding the marked distinctions which prevail between them. This reminds me of the remark of a poetical friend, who once said to me, "Like a rainbow on the horizon of art, Gothic architecture stretches itself across Europe from Byzantium to Portugal; while Arabian architecture may be compared to its reflection, somewhat flattened however, commencing from the same point, and crossing along the north coast of Africa till it reaches Spain: or to a reflection in the water, whose wavy surface occasions some little difference of appearance; and in fact we behold both styles united together in the amphibious city of Venice." This simile would be more literally appropriate had the uses to which the two styles were applied been more nearly alike. [1] As regards _Arabian architecture_, the parent art may be said to have been entirely childless, depending entirely on its own resources, discarding all representation of animal life, whether in painting or sculpture. With respect to modern architecture, it may be said that it has quite rejected the services of the other two arts, and, as I fear, greatly to its own detriment; while these latter arts, notwithstanding the eminence they have attained apart from architecture, are not so solidly united as they otherwise would be, nor capable of so completely developing their powers, had the union of the three been complete. It is well known that, owing to the fetters imposed upon them in Egypt by the religion of the people and its priesthood, it was only in Europe that sculpture and painting could at different epochs attain to maturity. But it is not perhaps so generally known or considered, that it is one characteristic mark of European architecture, that it has at all times, whether those of its progress and advancement, or its decline, availed itself of natural forms, both vegetable and animal, for purposes of decoration; while the Asiatic styles were confined to geometrical figures for the ornaments. The above cursory glance at the history of the art, may at least serve to shew how incumbent it is upon the architect of the present day to make himself acquainted with the creative power and processes of his art, by studying them as they actually manifest themselves at different epochs, and according to the different views and purposes to which the art was applied. By so doing, however, he is in some danger of being worked upon by conflicting impressions, occasioned by the diversity of styles and the opposite tastes they exhibit. Yet, unless I am greatly mistaken, the whole system of the art, as developed in the different styles, must henceforth have considerable influence upon our modern architecture. Limiting our views for the present to those architectural productions in which a union with the other arts is more directly attainable, we find Grecian or early Italian architecture the predominating style. The last grafted on the former, may be said to be more or less complete in the greater or less proportion in which it derives its nourishment from the parent stem. If we look, for example, to the progress or course of painting in Italy, that art flourished there in proportion to the nourishment it derived from the antique. The works of Mantegna, M. Angelo, Leonardo da Vinci, and Raphael bear testimony to this; and those great men would probably have attained to a higher degree of excellence, had they been as well acquainted with the sculptures of the Parthenon, and the Greek bronzes, as they were with the works of the Romans. Most assuredly a knowledge of the architecture of the time of Pericles, or of that of Pompey, would not have been without its influence upon such men as Bramante, San Gallo, and Baldassore Peruzzi, nor have failed of being turned to account by them: observe, however, that this remark is not intended to depreciate what they actually accomplished, nor to disparage the style which they formed. These explorers had unquestionably discovered new veins in the rich mine which had been opened by the Greeks; as the Romans, who were the immediate imitators of the Greeks, had already extended the one first of all worked. In all subsequent operations, as in what the French term the _Renaissance_ style, nothing more was done than to go on excavating, seldom, however, with sufficient pains or caution, so as to separate completely the gold from the dross. When, therefore, I propose to make a design in the "Greek style," I wish you to observe that I understand by this term a striving after the purity of this canon, but at the same time with a reserved right to the free use of those modes and motives with which later European architecture supplies us. If a determinate name must be given to the style, I propose I should call it, "the Renaissance style of the nineteenth century." But many may say, "How conveniently he contrives to get rid of the Gothic architecture!" while others will exclaim, "According to such principles, a very pretty sort of medley is likely to be produced." In answer to the first set of objections I reply: "If you can introduce modern sculpture and painting into Gothic architecture without prejudice to _them_ or _it_, I will say that you have attained a great end." To the others I should reply: "You misunderstand or pervert my meaning. I have not spoken of a merely mixing up of different styles, but of compounding them together; between which two processes there is, I conceive, a wide difference, the ingredients being merely put together in the one case, without losing their respective qualities; while in the other they amalgamate with each other, and produce an entirely new combination: and it is in accomplishing combinations of this kind that the power of genuine art manifests itself; and the distinction may be likened to the difference between a mechanical and a chemical combination. Nor are some compound styles of architecture less beautiful than others which are quite unmixed." I know not whether these remarks will prove of much service to you, but I trust they will at least enable you, after seeing what are my views generally on the subject, to make your own suggestions in return for my further guidance. I am, &c. A. C. [Heading illustration] LETTER III. DEAR SIR, THANKS for your letter in answer to mine, or rather in part answer to it, for you have confined yourself solely to a discussion of the style to be selected. A subject which has hitherto, I think, not been sufficiently considered; at least in England. I believe that amateurs order a Grecian Palladian, or Elizabethan house without having much speculated on what are the different merits or demerits of each, but merely with reference to some one example which may be in their recollection, and which may have pleased them; or what is oftener the case, they submit to be guided by the bent of their architect, who in general, are wedded to some particular favourite style. Thus, we have Mr. ----, all Gothic and Elizabethan; Mr. ----, all Italian, with a dash of the Byzantine, Renaissance, &c. I am, I own, much pleased as well as instructed by this discussion, and I hope you will not consider me as intruding too much upon your time and patience, if I venture to seek further elucidations of some of the positions in your letter. I quite agree it is clear that as yet we have a style to choose, and that in future ages, no architect will be able to apply any definite character to our present mode of building. I must, however, premise what indeed my letter will fully prove, that your partiality has induced you to give me credit for greater knowledge in matters of art, especially as regards architecture, than I possess. I agree that the style which best admits of being combined with the sister arts (or filial if you please) of painting and sculpture, must be the one to adopt, and that it is clear their union is always a mutual improvement. It seems you come to the conclusion that the pure Greek style of architecture is that which best admits of this union. Now, as regards domestic architecture, I am not sure that I have any very clear perception of what is pure Greek style. I suspect our notion as regards a house of pure Greek style, is a cube of building of mock stone with a portico, if a large house; or if a small one, with some thin paste-like pilasters, and a certain number of parallelogram holes cut into the walls for windows, with two smaller cubes for wings; and, in the inside, a repetition of the outside, in the shape of the rooms; that is, two oblong rooms for dining and drawing rooms, with an oblong hall placed the other way: the usual accompaniment of folding doors, and two or three small and often dark rooms at the back. There are certainly some changes rung on these forms, but the theme is always the same. I call Sir R. Smirties' Post Office a gigantic small Grecian house. I am aware that the Palladian improvements, or additions, (which ever you will) have multiplied the resources, and have given us much to delight; namely, the circular dome, pillars, and gallery, and the consequent change in the disposition of the apartments. I mention these points to let you see the nakedness of the land, and trust to your kindness for better instruction. You assume that the Grecian style is the best adapted to pictorial and sculptural decoration, but I do not see the reason of this; in fact, without a more precise definition of what you mean by Greek style, as adapted to domestic architecture, I do not see how this can be shewn. You state that the Gothic style is not so well adapted to the union with the filial arts, and that hitherto when so used they were subordinate only. I shall be the more ready to agree when I have some further exposition on this point. Though not so distrustful as our Royal Society who adopt "_Nullius in verba_" as their motto, yet cling to an old monkish law maxim of Lord Coke; I may say of your position what he says of law, "_Lex plus laudatur quando ratione probatur_." I am aware that the Gothic churches are often overloaded with ornament, and that the sculpture often seems as if merely stuck on, and the pictures are hung up as ornaments, not as part and parcel of the building; and, I believe, that tapestry was often called in aid to decorate our cathedrals, and with great effect; but is it of necessity so? Are there no exceptions? at all events, it is not so in the Byzantine style, which approaches so nearly to the Gothic; and, as regards the Arabian, (take for instance the Alhambra) the fair daughters unite in great harmony with their beautiful mother. You have besides omitted, I think, one point in which Gothic architecture has been greatly aided by the pictorial art, namely, the painted windows: With hues romantic tinged the gorgeous pane, To fill with holy light this wondrous fane, To aid the builder's model richly rude, By no Vitruvian symmetry subdued. I begin to feel that it is probable I have entirely mistaken what you mean by Grecian style, and that it does not preclude the use of arches, groined ceilings, domes, &c. I have been the more diffuse on this point because I own I have a leaning to what we have called ELIZABETHAN; conceiving, whether true or not, that there is more fitness in it for domestic architecture than in the Grecian style; that the regularity and repetition of form, which in a great building is delightful, in a small one does not please from the diminutive size of the objects. And, again, as regards the material and colour, as we use Grecian style in this country, the material is either white stone or white stucco, which in our climate appears cold, and does not give half so much the notion of warmth and comfort as the fine rich-toned red brick; and what refers to the exterior, is perhaps equally applicable to the interior. Although in a building on a grand scale the mind is pleased with symmetry and regularity, "in little" this is irksome, and gives the notion of poverty, in fact, too soon lets you into the secret of the whole house; there is no surprise, no discovery to make. Shew me a Palladian villa a mile off, and I could draw you the plan of the inside at once. Indeed, I could walk blindfolded into the drawing-room, dining-room, library, and boudoir, and go up to bed in the best bed-room, without a guide, or a light. Here are no Rich windows that exclude the light, And passages that lead to nothing. A good deal also, I am willing to own, arises from association and national prejudices; some of our most delightful houses are built in this style, and they have, at all events within, signs of harmony in the style of decoration, and in the accessories. The gardens and out-buildings were often made more appropriate and better suited to the house than in any other architectural attempts that we have made; and, I believe, no Englishman ever fancied building a house that did not have the large bay window and the large fireplace (against all principles of good grates and Arnott's stoves I admit,) and the low groined passage and the panelled hall in his mind. But it seems you think it most difficult ----------"To reconcile The willing graces to the Gothic pile," or rather say coy than willing. I beg you will not suppose I am opposing your views, all I mean is to canvass and to be sure that I understand them. I have to repeat that I agree entirely that the style is best which is most susceptible of uniting the three arts; but I only wish to know why the Greek is most susceptible; and what is the kind of sculpture and painting you wish to unite; in order to see that such a union is suitable to our climate, and can be obtained at a reasonable cost, for you must bear in mind that I want to build a country-house, not a palace! It is a long time since I was in Italy, and when I was there I did not pay so much attention to architecture as I should do, if I were to go over the same ground again, now that I have got a house to build; but there is a strong impression on my mind that the other parts of Europe may rival or surpass us in palaces and grand architectural monuments, yet that there is no country which would present so many good hints in domestic architecture as England; always referring to the great points, convenience, and comfort; for I own, as _fitness_ is the guiding principles of all perfection in building, I conceive it essential in purely domestic architecture, that a character of fitness for habitation and comfort should always be prominent. I am a great admirer of Balzac, and I think one of his best descriptions of still life is the account of the house in his "Recherche de l'absolu;" it is so good that I should be tempted, if it were not too long for a letter, to copy and send it to you as a model, if not of what a house should be, at least of how one should be described.[2] Yours, &c. H. B. [2] Unfortunately these letters were written long before the appearance of Mr. Fonnereau's very intelligent and instructive Observations on Architecture were printed. [Decorative illustration] [Heading illustration] LETTER IV DEAR SIR, BUT for the trouble of answering your letter I should have been much amused by your remarks upon what, at no very distant period, used to pass for Grecian architecture; but thank heaven we have passed over that barren tract of human invention. Continuing in the same strain, you would fain have me believe you are one of those pilgrims to the shrine of art, who fancy they have now luckily gained a verdant and flowery oasis; or rather that they have discovered the true Eden itself, which it seems is no other than the Elizabethan style; and to complete all, you treat me as the evil spirit, harbouring deadly enmity against this fair paradise. It is easy enough for you to give your opinions off-hand on these matters, but with us the case is different: the architect finds it less difficult to exhibit his ideas in his design, than to explain all the motives which lead to it,--how the ideas exactly arose, and how far they may have been influenced, either by our studies or our fancy. I must be allowed, therefore, to return to my former examination of the subject of style, and my deduction from such examination. You will call to mind that the principal different manners which have prevailed in Europe, are, first the Greek style, and the additions made to it by the Roman adaptation of it, then the Gothic in its different periods, and the different treatments of such periods in the different countries; and under this period may be added the partial adoption of the Arabian style in the south. Then this great æra of the revival or Renaissance style, as it seemingly arose in Italy, France, Germany, Flanders, and England. This being, as regards England, your boasted Elizabethan style. It is only very recently that my attention has been bestowed on that style which in the north of Europe succeeded to the Gothic; whereas, till then, it had been all along imagined that the Italians alone had comprehended the spirit of the antique, and been able to revive it in a newer form of their own; an error against which we should be upon our guard. Why should we not recognize the various modes of treating the antique, as we find them in different countries; and admit them to be all emanations from one common source and principle. In like manner, the Gothic principle or style was in common adopted and worked out through the whole of Europe, and was in common consentaneously abandoned wherever it had flourished; and the elements of ancient architecture became as commonly substituted for it. And this abandonment of the Gothic, it may be remarked, is the first instance in all history, when the creative power of a people (and, by people, I do not mean a single nation, but the whole of Christendom, united by one common religion) has survived the style of architecture, originally invented and brought to perfection by themselves. This last subject would be an interesting and fertile one to investigate, and would throw considerable light on the development of the human mind throughout Europe. Such consideration, even confined merely as regards architecture, would be one too far from the present subject now to discuss. Since, however, the Gothic as well as the revival of the antique principle have extended over all Europe, in order to attain a knowledge of either, we should not confine ourselves to isolated specimens of particular countries. It is only by taking a survey of the entire field of Gothic architecture, that we can rightly comprehend its varied powers. Is it possible I would ask, from the mere acquaintance with English Gothic to imagine, or from its elements to compose a tower like that of the Minster of Freiburg in Brisgau, or a loggia of similar character to that called the Loggia da Orcagna, at Florence? On the other hand an acquaintance with continental Gothic alone will furnish no idea of the peculiar character of the English perpendicular class. The Renaissance style which is fraught with so much plasticity and variety, springs also but from one root. In like manner as it is impossible for a botanist to understand all the species of one particular family without tracing all that are found in different parts of the globe; so too, is it impossible to become acquainted with the power of any one style of architecture without a similar comparative study of all its specimens, as exhibited in the works of different nations which have adopted it. To the north of Europe must justly be allowed the merit of having exhausted the whole circuit of Gothic architecture, and the application of its principles; this was certainly not accomplished in Italy. It is therefore on this side of the Alps that we observe many of the motives and principles of the Gothic retained to a very late period not disturbed, as was the case in Italy, by types from the antique. At the same time it must be admitted, that when the style founded upon this latter, began to find its way northwards, the two sister arts, painting and sculpture, though they followed in the train of architecture, did not strike root very deeply, but were for the most part treated capriciously and mechanically as mere handicrafts; and this was especially the case in England. It is therefore remarked with some truth, that the Renaissance style is characterized in Italy by greater delicacy and beauty than elsewhere; in France and the Low countries by greater richness, and in England by capriciousness and extravagance. Lest, however, the term itself, Renaissance, should be thought too loose and vague, it may be proper to define it as used to signify "that style which everywhere succeeded immediately to the Gothic." In Italy, this first period of the proper application of the antique terminates with the tendency of Michael Angelo, to destroy the true proportions of his buildings by colossal details; on the other parts of the continent it disappeared in consequence of the diffusion of M. Angelo's taste by the Jesuits; and in England it terminated at the time of Wren. Accordingly, this architectural period extends very little beyond a single century, commencing in other countries about the time when it was already on the decline in Italy. In what I have just been stating, I must be understood to allude to one uniform aim, namely, the free appropriation and adaptation of the elements of the antique style to modern purposes; consequently it is evident that the so-called Elizabethan style is only one of the links of a progressive series of such attempts. You must, therefore, admit that architecture which is capable of producing independent works out of its own resources, and from its own principles, is degraded to what is little better than mere decoration and scene painting, when, (apprehensive of falling into contradiction and want of harmony, unless it retains all the individual particulars of extant examples,) it timidly strives to imitate the dialect of a single province. How short a time, however, must the impression produced by such mummery last! and how long the impression of a work of architecture is destined to remain! It is because we are ashamed of, or mistrust the results of our own study and conviction, that we venture to exhibit ourselves to posterity, merely as the copyists of examples; the repute of which is already established, and which may be learnt and repeated by rote? At various periods men have shewn themselves either barbarous or puerile in their notions on art; yet never till now such slavish copyists, such mere plagiarists, such mocking-birds in style. You may judge by this sally in what an ill humour I am, at finding that you would shut me up in a cage and there make me sing. If you examine your Elizabethan architecture with some little critical attention, you will hardly fail to perceive that, with all its richness of expression, the elementary sounds are no more harmonious than the crowing of a cock, or the braying of an ass. All this concerns merely the STYLE, as style; for in other respects we often meet with much that deserves praise; convenient arrangement, and contrivance, striking effect, and much cleverness of construction and execution, although so far from being pure or refined, the taste displayed may be decidedly vulgar and coarse. I freely confess that the merits I have just mentioned, were retained in the architecture of the north of Europe during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries: I say retained, because the Gothic style that was then abandoned, had been treated with masterly and skill, and shewed disciplined artificers in all that belongs to mechanical execution; consequently, the ability thus produced had only to employ itself upon a fresh task. At the end of the last century, on the contrary, so completely had every thing like a school of the art disappeared, that at the University of Gottingen, architecture was taught as supplementary to the elementary course of mathematics. Is it then to be wondered at that we should have been filled with stupid wonder at the sublime works then newly brought to light, or that we should have set about copying them for the nonce, out of the affectation of classical purity, but without bestowing any study on the peculiar motives to be detected in them, or on the necessary alterations to be made in consequence of new exigences? If we allow that as far as it proceeded, Grecian architecture is stamped by perfect beauty, it is of little moment to our argument whether it was so comprehensive as it might have been, and had sufficiently developed itself for those purposes which we now more especially require; since the perfection it did actually attain in the direction it took, ought to be sufficient to inspire the artist. It was not necessary that the latter should surrender up the freedom belonging to him as such, and confine himself to following Grecian motives and intentions. In fact, the peculiar charm,--the grace and freshness of Grecian architecture become withered as soon as we begin to treat it according to dry systematic rules. The Vitruvius, capable of legislating for it according to its genius and true spirit perhaps is not yet born! For indulging at such length in these somewhat abstract remarks upon style alone, I must again entreat your pardon. You ask for some more distinct and explicit ideas on the subject; and are apparently, like many others, of opinion, that the remains of a few temples, such as we behold in Stuart and Revett, comprise nearly the whole of Greek architecture. The chief point for our present consideration is, how far it had accommodated itself to buildings for domestic purposes: and here I must remind you that Pliny's description of his villas are still extant. It must, indeed, be confessed that those two residences do not belong to the epoch of Pericles; yet they belong nevertheless to that same series of actual Greek plans and constructions which have been preserved to us at Pompeii and Herculaneum, and which Sir W. Gell's tasteful delineations have rendered so familiar to all. Many remains of the same class in the vicinity of Rome, and more especially in the Golfo di Gaeta, at Puzzoli, and in the environs of Naples, sufficiently attest the fancy and variety with which the ancients availed themselves of the conditions imposed by peculiarities of ground and locality,--contrived to combine the advantages of coolness and shade on the one hand, with the glow of sunshine on the other; to provide a frame and foreground for the prospect from the house; and to produce happily imagined effects and picturesqueness of character by means of the irregularity and declivity of the ground. Each of those ancient villas presents us with a new idea, and may be taken as an architectural study. Look, for instance, at those examples of the kind on the Lake of Albano and the Gulf of Gaëta, where the dwelling itself is connected with grottoes offering cool retreats, either for sitting in or for the purpose of baths, and upon entering which the visitor is so fascinated by the magic effect of reflected light from the water, that he almost fancies the whole scene to be a visionary and unearthly one. Water, it may be observed, either gushing in a stream, or exhibiting an expanded mirror-like surface, appears to have been considered by the ancients indispensable to the charm of a villa residence. In both the destroyed cities, even the smallest town houses offered upon entering them the reflection of the sky on the surface of the water contained in the basin of the impluvium. In larger dwellings, water was introduced more abundantly, and also in greater variety of modes; and residences upon the coast were built out quite into the sea. Besides much else that they have derived from the ancients, the modern Italians have retained this fondness for the combination of water and architecture, as many of their villas testify. For examples of the kind I refer you to the Villa Madama near Rome, and also to several at Frescati; and yet there the water and the architecture are not so intimately connected as in the villas and houses of the ancients. The climate of the north, in a great measure, prevents our availing ourselves of water as a means of producing reflection of light in the interior; but we may imitate this principle in a due arrangement of light and shade, and also in some cases by the use of mirrors in place of water. Another very great, though little regarded point of excellence and architectural effect in the latter consists in the covered ambulatories and porticoes, which, indeed, were intended chiefly as a defence against heat and sun, yet recommend themselves equally to us, as affording protection from rain and wind. Nevertheless it is rarely but in cloisters that we find this architectural convenience retained. Great attention seems also to have been paid by the ancients to planning the internal communication in such a manner, that the domestics could pass to and fro, and have access to the different rooms, without incommoding those occupying any of the suite; and in this sort of arrangement they frequently exhibit so much ingenuity and contrivance, that we may study for some time ere we shall be able to surpass them. For the present, these few hints and suggestions must suffice; but I could discourse to you for days together of the varied effects of light, the manifold diversity of form, the richness of play in regard to decoration, and all the combinations and beauties, both with respect to circumstances of locality and arrangement, that are to be met with in the remains of ancient domestic architecture. Among other questions which you have submitted for my consideration, is, whether pure Greek architectural forms and details will bear to be united with such a material as coloured brickwork? And by way of removing your doubts, I beg to remind you of the highly praised brick edifices of King Mausolus, described by Vitruvius. Texture and colour of materials are to be considered merely as the vehicle made use of by the artist, and may be employed in one style almost equally as well as in another. Another doubt suggested, is whether arches and vaulting can properly be admitted into the style above-named? Now, were you to consult the Delphic oracle, it would probably return you some such answer as the following: _When the edge of an aperture in a wall forms a right angle, the archivolt may still descend to the base without being interrupted by an impost. In vaulting, the diagonal crossing lines must be considered as secondary ones._ Perhaps this will but ill satisfy you, and you will say that, instead of solving one enigma, I have merely added another. Yet of one thing you may be assured, namely, that those difficult problems and mysteries in art, which have been expounded in formal terms, have been already actually decyphered, and explained more clearly by the practical solution of them in productions of art. It seems you think I have not yet given you any satisfactory reason for my position, that the present improved state, both of painting and sculpture, renders it difficult to reconcile them with the conditions required by Gothic architecture. I admit this would be otherwise were we to go back to the hard dry style of the Van Eyck school. I can only say that such an attempt has been made by some of the best artists in Germany, and that after persisting in the trial for some time, they have now abandoned the imitation of the early German style, and have preferred the Italian. At any rate, my opinion is not contradicted by history, since the latter informs us that the powerful impression produced by the broad handling and simple masses of the ancient works of sculpture, then first discovered in various parts of Italy, had the effect of giving the representation of nature an entirely new direction. It is also a striking circumstance that, owing to the fresh impulse which both painting and sculpture hence received, not only the taste for Gothic architecture declined, but the system itself was opposed both by painters and sculptors, who attempted to make architecture subsidiary to their productions. Such being the case, as they alleged, in regard to ancient art. With what eagerness not only the learned men of Italy, and the architects who were urged on by them to the study of classical antiquity, but also both sculptors and painters, entered the lists against Gothic art, is sufficiently evident from Ghiberti's journal; and again afterwards, when a decided victory had been already obtained over it, from Raphael's report to Leo X. on the ancient edifices and other remains at Rome. It is perhaps not so generally known, that in more northern countries it was the painters who set up for reformers in architecture. Holbein, there is reason to think, erected the first specimen of the antique in England: the portal of Wilton House, for his patron the Earl of Pembroke, still existing. About a hundred years later, Rubens, with the view of giving the death-blow to the still lingering taste for Gothic architecture in the Netherlands, made drawings of the Palaces of Genoa, and caused them to be disseminated in engravings. At the present day, indeed, we may be excused for smiling at the classical zeal of the worthy Peter Paul, who, in his preface to that collection of designs, inveighs against Gothic architecture as barbarous, at the same time that the plates themselves which he gives, are little better than hideous caricatures of the modern Genoese style, which, at the best is by no means remarkable for purity of taste. Should Gothic architecture, which is just now employed upon a liberal scale, and with more or less of true feeling for it, in your country ever obtain firm footing there again, depend upon it my professional brethren who have, I think, adopted it without due consideration of the present condition of the other fine arts, will have to encounter serious, and, perhaps, unforeseen difficulties from the painters and sculptors. Were some gifted sculptor to apply himself to architecture, I am persuaded he would drive us all out of the field, for the charm with which that art is capable of investing architecture by a skilful union of the flesh-like sculpture with the hard bones of architecture, would produce an irresistibly fascinating effect. From this long letter you will collect that, whilst on the other hand I do not mean to be confined either to a servile imitation of a pure Pompean house; so, on the other, I do not mean to be tied down to repeat your Elizabethan architecture, or the Gothic of Germany or England. Nor do I propose to give you a fac-simile of any building of the Renaissance school. To the best of my power, I propose (as the best style) that which adopts the pure broad principles of beauty in building, and which were, I sincerely believe, best propounded by the Greeks; and which all experience has shewn to be best suited to receive addition from the highest style of painting and sculpture; and which are, in fact, parts of architecture. How far I may succeed is another point. It is indeed difficult in all cases, even to select what is best; but with the most lofty aspirations, I am aware that I may indeed fall very short of the execution of my wishes; perhaps, I have already done myself some harm in this very discussion of style, by preparing you to expect too much. Yours, &c. A. C. [Heading illustration] LETTER V DEAR SIR, THE letter you send in answer to mine, on the question of the most preferable style, I must allow, contains many good reasons in support of your opinion and views; and laying aside prejudice and early associations, I am willing to admit that it is wise to adopt that style which possesses the most completely the elements of beauty, and which is most susceptible of being united to painting and sculpture, essential accessories of architecture, or rather, important branches of that art. Some of the facts which you mention are very interesting and striking, indeed, convincing; and the more I have reflected on the subject, the more I feel the advantage of breadth, and the superior beauty of the simple and grand lines of Grecian architecture; and my curiosity to see the mode in which you will follow out your precepts by your example, is hourly increasing, although I am quite aware that one specimen of a building will not be sufficient to illustrate the general positions you have, I think, so well established. I almost wish that you had been tempted to extend your letter, already long, for the purpose of entering still further into a subject of such interest. I should be curious to learn to what extent the arts of painting and sculpture had been applied, in conjunction with the Gothic; and where they had most failed, and to ascertain whether those instances fully corroborate your positions. As regards your oracular distinction between the two styles, I am not sure I quite understand you. I shall, however, leave this till the termination of the discussion of the plan. The merits of the arrangements and contrivances of the ancient villas, as ascertainable from the descriptions extant, and the plans of those of Pompeii had not entirely escaped me. In addition to the published information, I recollect to have received, many years since, much information and instruction on the subject from Mr. Cocherell, soon after his return from Italy; he having devoted much attention to the arrangement of ancient villas, and having selected some very interesting materials to illustrate the ingenuity of the contrivances, and the judicious selection of the sites, &c. Every part of your letter is tantalizing, and makes me regret that you have merely touched on subjects of such deep interest; whilst reading it, I forgot that I had commissioned you to give me the plan of a house, not to write a complete treatise on ancient and modern architecture. Conceding to you the choice of the style, convinced by your reasons and arguments in favour of its superior beauty and capability, I own to you I do so reluctantly, not without a sigh, and not without much hesitation. Although, abstractedly, a building constructed on the principles you advocate, may have more beauty than our own Gothic or Elizabethan, and may be more susceptible of a union of the three arts; yet there is one part of the subject to which you have not adverted, and on which, perhaps, you are not likely to feel so strongly as we do in England, the most aristocratic country in the world. Some of our most beautiful houses are in this the rejected style, and with them are connected all the prejudices and associations of antiquity, of ancestral dignity and greatness; and a house of this kind carries the mind back to other times, and awakens recollections that it has been enjoyed by a long line of ancestry, and hence, perhaps, has in a great degree arisen the desire of many who have built modern houses, to imitate those of the elder time; not indeed from any attempt actually to devise and construct a forgery, but to avail themselves to a certain degree of the associations to be derived from the recollections associated with the buildings of former ages, and in the construction of which, at least, the most skill and talent had been employed; and again perhaps, the very clumsy and unsuccessful adaptation of the principles of the revived Grecian and Roman, or Palladian architecture, to our modern houses, (especially in the smaller ones,) may have tended to keep alive the prejudice in favour of that style, which even if it were not the best, was at least the best executed; more especially in its adaptation to the fitness of domestic arrangements and comfort. Whilst I have been advocating the merits of our Elizabethan houses, you must not suppose I refer to the multitudes of grotesque little villas which grow up every summer round London; or to those alterations and adaptations, by which one sees Gothic spires, plastered over with stucco, starting up out of one half of an old farm house; the walls notched into battlements, and uncouth animals set a grinning against each other over the gate posts, and the hall crammed and fortified with rusty swords and pikes of all ages and fashions. And on the other half, Venetian windows slices of pilasters, balustrades, and other parts of Italian architecture. Although I have not such a greedy appetite for every thing Gothic, as Horace Walpole had, yet I own I partake somewhat of his feelings, as expressed in a letter from Stowe, when he says, "The Grecian Temple is glorious, this, I openly worship, but in the heretical corner of my heart I adore the Gothic building." Though I own the character he gives of the Gothic building he so adores is barbarous enough, for he says, "That some unusual inspiration of Gibbs has made it _pure_ and venerable, with a propensity to the Venetian, or Moresque Gothic; and the great column near it puts me in mind of the Place of St. Mark." Strawberry Hill, however, is a sufficient proof of his knowledge and taste for pure Gothic. There is one point on which I entirely agree, which is that the style of decoration should be consistent with the style of the architecture. I think we have been more deficient in attention to the style of decoration, than even to the choice of the style of the building itself; and nothing is now more common than to plaster the walls of a modern London house with the Gothic paper of Henry VII.'s Chapel, and to fill it with a load of old carving of all ages and times; and to finish with a cartload of Louis XIV.'s clocks, and other similar ornaments: but of this, more when we come to discuss the decoration of your rooms. [Heading illustration] LETTER VI. BY my first letter you will see I have explained to you the _site_, and I think the next point which we have to settle will be the advantages and disadvantages of _aspect_; and whether the house should be placed at the top of the low hill I have mentioned to you, or half way down, or at the bottom. I think in general, the modern fashion has been to seek a lofty spot, without reference to shelter; so that the architect's work should shew well to the surrounding country. My object is that the house should be placed in the most convenient spot as to _shelter_, with the best aspect suitable to our uncertain climate, always taking care that there be sufficient drainage, an essential, though often a neglected point. Having explained the essential, I come next, to the ornamental; I do not think it is so necessary that the house should form a handsome feature of the surrounding landscape, as that it should form an harmonious picture in combination with the grounds in immediate connexion with it; I must refer you again to a description of the _locale_. I have nothing to add to this. You will see that the spot I have chosen has somewhat of an amphitheatrical shape, and that I have the means of making a terrace; that I am well backed at the north by trees and hill, and open well to the south-east. You have the choice of aspect within the range of south-east to south-west; yet the house, for meteorological reasons, should not be placed too low down in the valley. I refer you to Mr. Professor Daniell's essays on the subject of the difference of temperature between the top and bottom of a hill; this, though it applies principally to the position of a garden, has some weight even in the site of a house. It will be necessary that the approach should be from the south-west; and as regards plantations and protection from wood, I am well defended on all sides. I had meant to have added some observations on the _picturesque_, of which we fancy we are the discoverers; but at present, I have not time. I may, perhaps, (if I find you inclined to enter into the subject,) send a few remarks on this; particularly, as I believe it is considered that the ancients did not, in the situations of their houses or buildings, consult those principles of taste which we call the picturesque. I think Dr. Copplestone, in his lectures on ancient poetry, states this, and yet one should judge otherwise, from seeing the sites of many of the Roman buildings in this country. That at Bignor in Sussex is particularly beautiful, nay, grand; but yet it was low: perhaps, the advantage of a running stream was the general cause in former times of building quite down in the valley. I think it will be an object to have as much veranda as possible, closed in and very wide, but not, perhaps, in front of the best windows; but somewhere so as to have both a shaded and a winter's sheltered walk. I must apologize for the indefiniteness of this letter, but I think I have given enough to serve as a text for the answer. The style and site settled, I propose we should at once come to materials to be used, ground plan and elevation. As regards offices, I will mention such as are essential; as you may, in consideration of the plan, like to know this; there will be one small lodge at the entrance on the south-west, and should have no objection to a back entrance at the north; as this may be used as a labourer's cottage. There will be a double coach-house, stables for six horses; a small ice-house and gardener's cottage. The two latter may be arranged so as to form part of the garden wall. I mean the kitchen garden, which will be at some small distance from the house, at the back, or north; but I mean it to be connected with the house by the flower-garden and plantations. Yours, &c. H. B. [Decorative illustration] [Heading illustration] LETTER VII. DEAR SIR, WE come now to fix upon a part of the grounds that shall appear most healthy, neither too confined nor too exposed; commanding a good prospect, yet well sheltered. This is a very material point, and not indeed altogether free from difficulty; nevertheless, proper attention to the two circumstances just mentioned would perhaps, in the generality of cases, lead at once to the selection of the most favourable site for building upon; both as regards prospect from the house, and the view towards it; so that as regards the latter, it would display itself to the utmost advantage. With respect to the mode of combining buildings with the surrounding scenery, the following principles and directions are laid down by the ablest of our writers in the German language, on the subject of landscape gardening.[3] "If due care be taken to distribute the masses of light and shade, so that they shall judiciously relieve and balance each other, satisfactory effect, as regards the general grouping and composition of the scenery, can hardly fail to be secured. Grass, water, and level lawns, which throw no shadow upon other objects, but merely receive those which the latter cast upon them, are to be considered as _lights_ in landscape gardening, while trees, woods, buildings, and rocks, (should there be any) afford the artist his _shadows_ and darker tints. In making use of these contrary elements, care must be taken lest breadth of effect be destroyed, and a disagreeable spottiness substituted for it; in consequence of there being too many separate and partial effects independent of each other; or else by there being too great a proportion of unbroken _light_. On the other hand an equal fault is committed, if a few dark masses of shadow are allowed so to predominate, as to overpower all besides; or again, if lawn and water exhibit naked unbroken surfaces of light too harshly defined; whereas they ought to be left partially to lose themselves in indistinctness, or the shadow of deep vegetation; or to detach themselves from a darker background as brilliant lights opposed to it. With respect to buildings, these ought never to stand perfectly isolated, because in that case they become spots, and look as if they had no business there, nor belonged to any of the rest. Besides, a partial concealment is always advantageous to every kind of beauty, and it is highly desirable that the imagination should be interested by there being something for it to exercise itself upon, and to divine. The eye frequently rests with more satisfaction upon a chimney peeping out in the distance, and emitting a gray volume of smoke from amidst the dense foliage of trees that embower and exclude from sight the building whose presence is so indicated, than it does upon a large formal mansion standing fully exposed to view, with no shelter or skreen on any side, with nothing to break its outline, with nothing to render it an appropriate and consistent feature in the general scene." From the beginning of what I have here extracted, you perceive that this writer treats the subject in a masterly manner, taking a comprehensive view, and is guided by such sound theoretical principles, as to be able to determine beforehand, the results of his art with almost as much certainty as an architect can judge of an intended building from its ground plan. [3] Prince Puchler Muskau. Andenkungen über Landshaftgärtnerei. Stuttgart, 1834. Having determined upon the precise site, that which seems most recommended by considerations of healthiness, convenience, &c.; we have next to attend to what appertains exclusively to architectural treatment and character. The general idea of the building, as to its chief masses and parts, extent and arrangement, being sketched out, regard must be had to the greater or less space of the immediate site; to obtaining for it due effect of light and shade, and a background calculated to set it off, upon all which circumstances, it depends nearly as much as a work of sculpture does. In like manner as statues in general have only three sides from which they are calculated to be seen, so also have buildings; nor can I help being of opinion that much harm has been done of late years, both in architecture and sculpture by the attempt at equal display on all sides. The greater part of antique statues were evidently intended to have a wall or background behind them; nor is there, perhaps, any thing more at variance with the effect which statues ought to produce, than the present frequent practice of erecting them in the centre of large squares. Nearly all productions of architecture, more especially structures adapted for habitation, offer one side stamped as the principal or front, and another, which is its reverse; in which respect they bear a greater analogy to living beings than to plants; the latter having no definite foreside, on the contrary, any part becoming the front, that is towards the spectator. Such being the case, the same rules that are to be observed for displaying a statue, or representation of a living figure to advantage, ought to be attended to in regard to the position of buildings. Agreeing with you that a sheltered situation is the most desirable for your intended villa, I will attempt to explain it upon the theory of the following general principles; namely, upon our beholding any building of the kind, it ought immediately to be evident wherefore it is so placed, and that by being placed precisely where it is, it is part and parcel of its immediate vicinity. But to confine myself to our particular instance. I think I shall be able to provide an exceedingly agreeable site for your residence, as I learn that a supply of water may be obtained in the grounds, capable of floating superficies of about fifty thousand square feet, and depth in proportion. Accordingly I propose, after the manner shewn in the accompanying ground sketch, (Plate I.) to avail myself of this circumstance, in order to give animation to the now comparatively tame and lifeless character of the place. The reservoir on the upper terrace would keep the basin constantly filled to the level of the lower terrace, before the water escapes into the valley below. By this means, a sheet of water may be provided almost in the centre of the grounds, and my plan suggests, that the house itself should be erected immediately on the north shore of this artificial lake. On the spot where I have placed it, the ground floor would be about fifty feet above the level of the brook itself, and that part of the grounds through which it runs, consequently would not be exposed to any injurious exhalations from the lower grounds. I need hardly point out to you the unusual agreeableness and even piquant effect of a residence so situated; and when I send my plans for the house itself, you will see what are the apartments that will occupy this side of the building, and what a charming prospect they will command of the lake immediately below, and the grounds on its opposite banks. At present I will only remark as regards the increased effect thus to be gained, that a building immediately on the edge of a piece of water appears more considerable than in any other situation; and that the reflected image of the architecture will form a brilliant contrast to the darker reflections of trees and foliage. Besides which, the most favourable point of distance for viewing the building itself on this side, would thus become fixed--being that from the opposite bank of the lake. A very cursory examination of the plan of the ground will convince you, that the whole of the buildings you require are massed together in one group. Such an arrangement certainly contributes to convenience; and I agree with you by shewing the various offices, instead of attempting to mask or screen them, the house itself may be made to possess greater importance and apparent extent; that is, you will get a large looking country house at a small cost. It may be further remarked, that by adopting such treatment of the plan, some kind of architectural foreground is introduced into the prospects seen from the house itself, together with much contrast and variety, and that too without incurring unnecessary or extra expense, since the same accommodation must be provided. Another advantage is, that the subordinate buildings of this kind attached to the main structure, may be made use of as a kind of connecting link between the more artificial and studied regularity of the latter, and the natural objects in its immediate vicinity; without which sort of intermediate transition, a house is apt to have the appearance of a mushroom structure that has over night started up out of the ground. From the north east angle of the house, the stables extend northwards, while the conservatories run in an eastern direction from the same point. By this means an open avenue is left before the north side of the house: and on the east side a flower garden, which is screened towards the north. The piece of ground enclosed on two sides by the stables and hothouses or conservatories, and therefore not exposed to view from the house itself, would be occupied as the stable-yards, &c. Further on, towards the upper terrace, is the fruit and kitchen garden, stretching out more eastward. At the end of the conservatories is the gardener's lodge, the upper part of which forms a small dovecot. [Illustration: Plate I. Drawing of the ground plan and upper story.] I have not yet said any thing of the west side of the house, although it forms one of the principal elevations of the external designs, the carriage entrance porch being placed there; the approach to which latter is over a bridge, and by the road which runs to the south-west towards the village. You therefore perceive that, before they actually arrive, visitors will obtain a distinct view, across the lake, of the entire range of the buildings from east to west; from the gardener's lodge and tower along the line of south front and terrace, to the bridge itself; of which group of architecture, the greater part, would be reflected in the water, from which it appears immediately to rise up. You will observe, I have _not_ carried the approach to the house in a curved or serpentine direction line, as is generally done, whereby the object to which the visitor is hastening, is now seen and now again suddenly lost sight of; but in a _straight line_, so that the building displays itself more and more plainly to the eye at every step. From the high road, the approach is on the north-east; and of the portico lodge and gate at that entrance into the grounds, the sketch prefixed to this letter will afford you an idea. The direction of the drives and paths, the arrangement of the plantations and groups of trees, wherein I have taken care that the greater part of the fine elms shall remain untouched. The source of the stream and the weir, from which the superfluous water finds its way into the lower valley, would almost of course suggest the propriety of erecting seats at those points of the grounds. A more detailed description of the house follows by next post, with the plans and elevations.[4] Yours, &c. A. C. [4] Plate I. shews the ground plan, &c. [Heading illustration] LETTER VIII. AT length I have sent my notions on the site, and _generally_ as to the house with which I trust you are satisfied. Now that I come to more particular description, and to speak of my design in detail, my confidence is somewhat abated, it being exceedingly problematical how far my ideas will accord with your own wishes and expectations. To the best of my ability I have endeavoured to meet both; to fulfil the conditions belonging to the particular subject and occasion; for be it remarked, every production of art is like every poem, a composition on some particular occasion or theme; and if it fails of its purposed aim as such, it may be said to be a failure altogether, and doomed to oblivion; or rather, in my case, to be stuck up as a monument of my ignorance. All that I dare hope as yet, is that the drawings have not been met with a hasty and decided "It won't do;" but that you at least suspend your judgment until I explain more fully my ideas and the motives which have guided me. The principal sitting-rooms face the south, by which means they will have not only the most favourable aspect, but as it so happens, the best prospect also; therefore, so far you are not likely to start any objection; neither, I presume, will any exception be taken at the situation and aspect of the dining-room, which is towards the east; which last circumstance has induced me almost, as a matter of course, to place the entrance at the west, or opposite end of the house, it being on many accounts objectionable; (with regard to quiet and privacy,) to make the corridor, or inner vestibule running behind and serving as the communication between the principal apartments immediately connected with, or in continuation of the first entrance into the house from the open air; for one reason, because it is hardly possible in such case to prevent a continual current of cold air through the whole of that part of the building. Another point here attended to, is to place the dining-room beyond the other sitting apartments, so that it shall be the last and the most distant from the entrance. Attention to these circumstances have led to that arrangement of the space afforded by the plan which I have adopted. In order both to give some play to that part of the plan, and to avoid all sky-lights, I have broken the north side of the plan by a small court; surrounded on three sides by the house, in such manner that from the corridors, &c. turned towards it, a free prospect of the court and grounds shall present itself from various points of view; whereby an architectural foreground, and the natural scenery beyond it are combined; so that you feel yourself in every part of the house quite in the country. Permit me now to receive you at the entrance, and be your _cicerone_ over the building; in which character I must, before we proceed further, call attention to the exterior of this part, as you will have perceived by the designs it is carried up loftier than the rest, for the purpose of breaking the outline, and of providing a conspicuous and important feature in a distant view of the building. This tower-like portion of the structure does not carry with it any formidable appearance; it has neither battlements nor watch-turrets, for which there exist no historical grounds. On the contrary, crowned by a rich cupola roof, and ornamented with statues, it serves to announce that the house belongs to a lover of the arts and muses, who may be supposed here to enjoy at once, the refinements of literature and art, and the beauties of cultivated nature. The ground floor of this mass of the building is occupied by the entrance vestibule, which has a vaulted ceiling whose arches descend rather low, and which is lighted directly, by only a single small window at some distance from the floor, but which receives a strong reflected light through the doorways. It is highly desirable that a vestibule, entered immediately from the open air, should be moderately lighted, in order that the eyes may not be too much strained at first, but accustom themselves to in-door light; and also that the other rooms may derive additional effect from the contrast. Most assuredly too, a subdued degree of light will suffice for a vestibule which is not intended for a sitting-room, nor for reading, writing, or any other occupation, consequently, it very properly admits of a kind of Rembrandtish effect, which here becomes rather a merit than a defect; especially as it tends to set off all that follows. A group of statues against the wall facing the entrance, would here produce a good effect on account of the stream of light which would fall upon it from the window, and would make a pleasing impression on the visitor as soon as he had crossed the threshold. Instead of seeing from this vestibule any of the other parts of the house, the situation of the rooms, or those who may be passing through the corridors, we have first to turn to the left, where we perceive the staircase, not however exposed to full view, but merely so as to allow the upper part of it to be seen through a screen, formed of columns placed upon a lofty stylobate; which I conceive would produce a more than ordinary picturesque bit of interior architecture. We do not, however, enter the staircase, but pass on to the hall or inner vestibule, which affords immediate access to the sitting-rooms. Perhaps I may as well mention here, that the servants' hall, &c. for the men-servants would be in the basement at this end of the house, consequently would be just by the entrance. The hall or inner vestibule is a spacious room overlooking the small flower-court above mentioned, the avenue leading to the stables, and the larger trees on the north side of the house. A small door opens into the court, while one of rich architectural character forms the entrance to the suite of rooms occupying the south or water front of the building. This last mentioned doorway leads into a small anti-room, right and left of which are two moderate sized drawing-rooms, capable of being used as one when the company is numerous. The folding doors being thrown open, and the smaller intermediate room becoming the centre-piece of the triple apartment thus formed. In front of these three rooms is an open loggia on a somewhat lower level, there being a descent to it of four steps, looking immediately upon the water; this loggia would form a sheltered terrace immediately connected with the sitting-rooms which it would also serve to screen from the sun. The library, which, according to your wishes, is made one of the principal suite of rooms, is the last of those in this front, it being on the south-east angle. It has an alcove or deeply recessed bay with a window in it, which not only affords a very agreeable little snuggery, bower, or whatever else you may term it, for reading or studying, or meditating in apart, but also gives additional spaciousness and variety to the whole apartment. From this room a jib or concealed door opens to the small private staircase, and another of the same kind leads into the flower garden. The larger door on the north side of the room, is that by which we enter the dining-room, to which, as it is upon a lower level, there is a descent of a few steps. The reason for this difference of level is that the room being more spacious requires to be of more height than the others, and also that it may be upon the same level as the terrace looking out upon the flower garden. Beyond the dining-room, is the serving room, and behind that the kitchen, which, however, does not form part of the body of the house, but is included in the same range of buildings as the stables, being under the same roof. Attached to it is a kitchen court, and it is connected with the rest of the house by the servants' staircase, which last leads both down to the cellars and rooms in the basement, and to those above for the female domestics, to the childrens' rooms, &c. The stables and conservatories call for no other explanation than what the drawings themselves supply; we will therefore now return to the principal staircase, on one side of which are two rooms not yet mentioned, one of which may be used as a business room. On ascending the stairs, we have first two stranger's rooms on the left, on the right a billiard-room in the tower, and an upper hall or corridor over that below, and of the same size though not so lofty; this would serve for the children to play in and exercise themselves in winter or bad weather. On the south side of this are two sleeping, and two sitting-rooms, the larger of which might be used as a winter breakfast-room. The larger of the two sleeping-rooms, namely, that over the library is the one you would yourself occupy, it being adjoining the private staircase. On the south side of it is an alcove, raised a few steps above the rest of the floor; and on the east a small dressing-room looking out upon the flower garden. The upper part of the tower contains two other handsome sleeping-rooms, which, as they command a fine prospect, may be appropriated either to visitors or to the grown up members of your family. It has been my endeavour to give an agreeable variety, play and contrast to the different parts of the interior, which I hope will not displease you; and I trust that the drawings and descriptions of the several apartments, their architectural character and decoration, which will form the subject of my next letter, will shew that while I have adhered to one uniform style throughout, I have neglected neither the variety in the individual parts, nor harmony and unity of expression in the ensemble, but have reconciled together those two, somewhat contrary, yet highly desirable qualities.[5] Yours, &c. A. C. [5] N.B. The Plates II. III. and IV. shew the south, north, and east elevations. [Decorative illustration] [Heading illustration] LETTER IX. MY DEAR SIR, FROM the two letters, and the accompanying plans, I think I fully understand your views. On the whole I am much pleased with the design, and own your example has fully supported your precepts; and bating all pleasure to be derived from associations, as I have before noticed, I willingly subscribe to your views, as to the beauty of the principles of Grecian architecture applied as they have been in your pleasing design. There are only two points on which, perhaps, you have allowed your imagination to carry you too far: first, you have taken rather a poetical notion of the means to be applied in building, what will, I fear be a very expensive structure, and larger than was intended; and next as regards the lake, on the borders of which you propose to place the house. I fully subscribe to your notions as to the beauty which would be gained by the proposed sheet of water, and feel all the advantages of the broad expanse of light, and the extent and variety to be derived from the reflection of the building in this natural mirror, &c.; but there are disadvantages, some of which are not to be overcome, and others, of which in my opinion, more than counterbalance all that is to be gained in beauty and variety. I suspect you have been misinformed as to the possibility of making the lake as you propose, and next the expense to execute this perfectly and so as to ensure that it should always be filled with fresh and transparent water, would be very considerable, and indeed at times it would be impossible to accomplish this at any cost. But our climate I think is an insuperable objection to have a house actually bordering on still water; recollect how few months in the year the notion of the coolness of water would add pleasure to the prospect from the library or drawing-room window, and how often one should shudder at the very notion of it; moreover that according to our apportionment of the seasons for town and country those very months will be passed in London,--April, May, June, and generally July, being the time when "every body is in town." Although I believe the neighbourhood of water may not always be unwholesome, still there is much prejudice to overcome on this subject; not a toothache, cold, or rheumatic twinge would be felt by a person in the family, from the stable to the drawing-room, but would be attributed to the _pond_, for when angry, nobody would call it the LAKE; malignant malaria would be discussed in every variety of tone and phrase, and Dr. Chambers would think it his duty to enter his protest against any patient of his ever venturing to make a visit of twenty-four hours to the proscribed spot. I am, however, not sorry that you had conceived the notion of the lake, because it has given an opportunity of shewing what a beautiful accessory water becomes to a house, applied as you have suggested, and because I believe you will have no difficulty in substituting some broad expanse either of turf or gravel, which, though it will not give you the reflections of the buildings and the play of light you require, will still afford a flat surface for the receiving the shadows, and will not interrupt the harmony and simplicity of the general lines of your building. The loggia though it may not look out upon the water as you propose, will always be delightful as affording shelter in the winter, and shade in the summer; and the portico is, I think, a valuable addition. Our unhappy rage for adaptation or rather perversion of the Grecian portico; hitherto the portico has increased rather than diminished, the distance which has to be traversed in cold and rainy weather, from the door to the carriage. The perfection of this maladaptation is to be seen in our unfortunate National Gallery, where is annually erected a tarpaulin lean-to in order to prevent people being drenched in rainy weather in their progress to the entrance door, the access to which is opposed by an inaccessible portico. I quite agree with you that there being no historical associations connected with the site, it is right that the tower should have no battlements, and should not show any angry front where no defence against invading enemies, (whether chartists, socialists, or bread-taxing tories), is intended. I agree in the advantage to be derived from the variety of line and the grandeur of the tower, and am willing that the ornaments you propose of statues should indicate (as it will truly) the propensities of the owner, especially as terra cotta affords the means at a small cost, of obtaining examples of fine statues. However, as regards the shape of the tower, and especially the cupola, some doubts of its beauty have been expressed, more however by others than myself, though I cannot help feeling that, if this part partook more of the tall tower of the modern Italian buildings, finishing with the nearly flat roof and long projecting eaves, the effect would be more picturesque and less pretending. I mention this merely for your consideration, and am quite willing that your greater knowledge and better taste should determine its shape. As regards the exterior in general, I have little or nothing further to suggest, except that I may observe that I have remarked in most of the best modern houses the cornices and ornaments are in my opinion too thin and minute, and this, I take it, is owing to the too servile copying from buildings designed for a country where the sun shines nearly throughout the year, and where the light colour of the material (unstained by damp or weather) marks more sharply and completely the light and shade than is the case in our gloomy season, and where the walls are soon disfigured and weather-stained. Although I assume that the project of the lake is to be abandoned, yet I should wish still that the ground floor should be at least raised as much above the level as it at present is. Although every facility of access to the gardens and grounds is desirable in a country house, yet I think it is disagreeable to be on an actual level with the walks; both from the interior and from the exterior, it gives the notion of the house springing from the earth as a mushroom, as you have observed. I will now follow you through the building at your invitation, observing that I agree as to the choice of aspects and the arrangements of the rooms. With reference to this, the west is well arranged so as to avoid that aspect for any of the rooms to be generally inhabited, and I subscribe to the notion that the entrance should be somewhat gloomy, at least enough so, as to create a feeling of pleasure on emerging into more light. As regards the large hall, perhaps for the size and style of the house there is a little too much sacrificed to it; but as I think it is an object of importance to obtain an open and airy access to the whole suit of rooms, and as this will afford ample scope for ornament, and casts of statues and bas-reliefs, and perhaps fresco ornamental painting, I am willing that some sacrifice should be made. The two rooms beyond the staircase will be useful, and indeed are necessary. I have already appropriated one as a gun room and audience chamber for those whose shoes may not be clean enough to be admitted to the best library. I like the disposition of the two drawing-rooms; perhaps, however, it may be worth consideration whether it may not be better to make some sacrifice of symmetry, and convert them into two rooms, one large and one small; keeping the small one at the end next the staircase, and making it either octagon or circular; either shape is pleasing, and admits of variety in decoration. In that case it would be advisable to make separate entrances to each room for the interior hall: indeed, if the present arrangement is retained, this may be desirable, so as to avoid using the middle room entirely as a passage room. As regards the library, I have no observation to make on its shape or disposition. I assume that the two windows will sufficiently light it. At first I thought that it might be advisable to have the means of shutting off the recess by sliding doors from the large room, making a kind of inner library or study of it; but I presume, as this would leave but one window, the large room would be too dark. I think it would be desirable that there should be an entrance to the dining-room across the hall and through the corridor, as well as through the library. There might be occasions where it may be inconvenient to pass through the library to the dining-room, although this might be considered as the usual and grand entrance. I do not see where you have placed your fire-place in the library. I should conceive from its size, that you might want either two fire-places, or at least one stove and one fireplace to warm so large a room. The mention of fireplaces reminds me that I see no chimneys in the drawing, I suppose they are hidden by the balustrade. I shall be glad if this is so, as it will be well to get rid of so unsightly an object as chimneys generally are. As regards the kitchen, it certainly is well placed with reference to the convenience of access to the dining-room; but though not under the same roof with the house, I should fear that not only the smell of the cooking, but the noise of the offices may reach the dining-room. This is a common evil, and one which it is essential to avoid. When we come to discuss the offices more in detail, this point must be well considered. I approve of the dining-room windows opening on the flower-garden, as this will also (unless when we are alone) be the breakfast room, and occasionally the morning room in hot weather; perhaps, however, to avoid any notion of coldness, only _one_ of the three windows should go down to the floor and open on the garden. As regards the kitchen, there must be added some additional offices, such as scullery, out-door's larder, &c. &c. but as I see space sufficient for these in the direction of the orangery, this will make no material alteration in your plan. In addition to the wine and beer cellars, I think the servants' offices may be well included in the space under the east and south fronts, particularly as I think it will be necessary that some sleeping rooms for servants should be obtained in the attics, and I presume your plan will admit of this without deranging your elevation; though I am aware something must be sacrificed in the height of the rooms; but though there may, for the purpose of protection of the lower part of the house, be a sleeping room for one or two men-servants, yet I think the women's sleeping apartments will not be conveniently arranged on the basement story. As it is important to economize, I should suggest to you that it will not be necessary to continue the basement story on the west front, and perhaps not under the interior or large hall. As regards the arrangement of the sleeping-rooms, if the attics are obtained, I think those you propose sufficient. If any more should be required, perhaps the large corridor or hall might be abridged, and at all events the billiard room may be made into another bed-room, and the billiard table taken down to the hall: increasing moral habits and the spread of useful knowledge, prevents our employing so much time as formerly in mere games of amusement, and I observe that the billiard room is somewhat going out of fashion, and that where it remains, is rarely used. I should, however, be sorry to give it up altogether. It is a very useful and innocent assistant with a dull party on a rainy day, or during a long evening at Christmas; and occasionally is a good "bore escape." The dressing-room at the east angle is inaccessible except through the bedroom, but this is an evil which cannot be in all cases avoided. I have thus given you in detail the observations which occur to me on going over your plan, and except such alterations as occur to you as necessarily arising out of the rejection of the lake, I would not wish that any alteration should be made, and I shall be glad to receive from you the details as to the interior, and your opinion as to the few alterations I have suggested. You have not stated to what use you design to put the building at the top of the north-east end; this, I presume, is to remain open, and so merely designed as a balance for the tower. Perhaps, however, it may be put to some use, either as a store or lumber room: I think it adds much to the picturesque appearance of the whole. Although I have rejected the lake, I should be sorry to lose the bridge in the approach, but as the ground in front slopes, a terrace may be well substituted, and perhaps the bridge may remain as passing over some road, or may form some part of the arrangement as to the angles of the terrace. As regards your observations of the position of the house, I agree with what you state, but when I consult you in detail on the order and disposition of the grounds, I propose to make some suggestions on the subject. With respect to the materials, I assume you mean to have light coloured brick with stone at the angles, and for the moulding. I presume the additions of painting and sculpture (one of the grounds for the rejection of the Gothic) will play their proper part in the interior; as in the exterior, except in respect of the figures in the tower, no addition is gained from them in the elevation. Yours, &c. H. B. [Decorative illustration] [Heading illustration] LETTER X. THANKS for your letter approving of my design in the principal parts of the interior; I shall now briefly point out the materials which I would recommend to be employed for the floors, walls, and ceilings. For the entrance hall, I propose that the doorcases, chimney-piece, and the socle or dado should be carried up about four feet high, and should be of yellowish Derbyshire marble, and the walls in stucco, but made to show the joints of different courses, and marbled in fresco of a lighter tint than the rest, while the vaulted ceiling should have the ribs coloured white and brown upon a pale blue ground; for here in the lower part of the tower it will, I conceive, be most proper to indicate as forcibly as possible to the eye, solidity of material and construction. In the second or inner hall, which we enter from the preceding one, and beyond which is obtained a view of the staircase, as seen through the columns placed on a stylobate, serving as a screen to the stairs, the walls might be marbled of a light greenish tint, intermixed in the socle with brown lines. The columns and entablature should be white; and the ceiling panelled in wainscot, with coffers or compartments containing ornaments in relief on a green ground. As regards this part of the interior, I would remark that should such be deemed preferable, there would be no objection to filling in the upper part of the screen (that is, the openings between the columns) with glass. While this would prevent all draught from the staircase, and in some degree intercept sound also, it would not in anywise affect the general design; but rather might be made to conduce to it, by adopting some ornamental pattern, of course in a corresponding style. Both in this and the preceding vestibule, the floor should be paved with marble or coloured stone, as should also that of the corridors; but the large hall should have a parquetted wood flooring, because that room will occasionally be made use of for dancing. In this last, the walls should be wainscoted and panelled with oak, to the height of about seven feet; and the doorway which forms the entrance to the suite of sitting-rooms should be distinguished by richness of carved decoration in the same material. I further recommend the application of embellishment of inlaid woods or marquetrie of different colours, for the cornice or upper mouldings of this wainscoting, so as to produce a rich border or band along the walls, above which there will remain space for pictures in frames, (inclining forwards) and even if these paintings are of no very great value in themselves as works of art, they will be of use as contributing to the general design, and add greatly to its effect. The upper part of the walls might be painted in fresco in imitation of grey marble streaked with red, which last mentioned colour should be that of the coffers in the wainscoted ceiling. The ante-room or first room of the suite being smaller than the others, should have a coved ceiling, in order to diminish its apparent height; and this might be painted with Arabesque ornaments on a white ground, somewhat after the manner of several of the ceilings of Julio Romano in the Villa _Lanti_. The walls of this and of the two adjoining rooms should be hung with silk or other stuff of a quiet sober hue, so as to give the greatest relief to the pictures, I taking it for granted that you would be inclined to place here the principal part of such pictures as you may possess. Though the ceilings of the two drawing-rooms should not be much ornamented, yet they may be relieved by the introduction of gilding in parts. For all these rooms I propose that the doors, &c. should be white with gilt mouldings. In the library, the ribs or bands of the vaulted ceiling should be gilt upon a white ground; and as regards the bookcases or shelves for books, they ought to be of some light coloured wood, highly polished, and not go higher than the corbels or consoles from which the vaulting springs, in order that there may be sufficient space for busts, vases, and other ornaments of that kind upon the cornices; and this will avoid the inconvenience of having the upper shelves quite out of reach, except with the help of high library steps--always inconvenient. For the lunettes or arched spaces between the corbels, I have not proposed any particular decoration, as they might be filled up by reliefs and casts let into the wall. The dining room with the arcs-doubleaux and compartments of its vaulted ceiling afford scope for fresco painting of a superior style; and the pencil of our friend Eastlake, who has already shown so much classical talent in decorating the dining-room in London, might render this one of the most striking and charming apartments of its kind in England. It is true that fresco is so little practised in your country, and consequently its process so imperfectly understood, that he would probably have to encounter some difficulties at the outset; but I flatter myself I could be of considerable assistance to him, as regards the practical details, having already succeeded in introducing that mode of painting in spite of most unfavourable circumstances. I would advise that the pictures should be confined to the ceiling and the lunettes, and that the walls should be merely stuccoed, as being upon the whole more in accordance with the destination of the room itself, and affording a quieter background to the company seated around the dinner-table; at the same time that the frescoes in the upper part of the room would thereby show to greater advantage. You will observe that the fresco requires a bold broad style, and has an advantage over oil, as it is very effective even when not seen by a strong or favourable light. Should somewhat more of decoration be thought advisable, I would suggest the adoption of glass-mosaic in narrow upright pannels at intervals. Of this species of embellishment, which was much used by the Romans, and after, much in vogue throughout Italy during the middle ages, for pulpits, monuments, &c. I have lately introduced an application in a room fitted up by myself, the effect of which is allowed to be singularly striking and good. The remaining drawing shows the large corridor on the upper floor. I need hardly remark that these designs are only intended to convey an idea of the general character and style of the different rooms, as submitted to you for consideration. Much yet remains to be definitively settled, there being a variety of circumstances with which I am at present but imperfectly acquainted; nor can I possibly say what modifications of the plan I should advise, until I know wherein you consider it objectionable, or wherein it fails to meet your precise wishes. Some objections I may probably be able to combat; others may possibly, by leading me to consider the points in difference afresh, enable me to hit upon variations that may not immediately occur to me. Much will depend upon your collection of works of art, which is as yet but imperfectly known to me; much also upon my meeting with clever workmen, capable, not only of entering into my ideas, and executing without further trouble any piece of decoration that may be required, but also, as has not seldom happened to me, of suggesting valuable hints during the progress of the work. So far indeed am I from wishing you to decide at once in favour of what I propose, I am most of all solicitous that you should as completely comprehend not only the general scheme, but the contemplated effect of every part. Undoubtedly it is very pleasant to an architect to meet with an employer disposed to give him _carte-blanche_ and permission to follow out his own ideas unrestrictedly; yet it is still more delightful to meet with one who, instead of merely passively acquiescing, assents from conviction after deliberate study of the ideas submitted to him, and from the lively interest he takes in them. If I have ventured to propose marble, gilding, fresco painting, and glass-mosaic, do not be alarmed at the seeming extravagance, or imagine that any great expense will be incurred. In architecture the most durable materials are the most economical, and they carry with them a nobleness of appearance not attainable by even lavish ornaments, costly at first, yet of a perishable nature. Consider what large sums are expended in the course of a few years in keeping up houses that have to be repaired or refitted up from time to time as regards all but their bare walls, in consequence either of the materials getting soiled and shabby, or of the changes of fashion, which having been the only guidance in matters of taste at first, must continue to be consulted and conformed to, otherwise the whole looks out of date; whereas, that which is originally beautiful, independently of any particular fashion of the day, will so remain, let the caprice of fashion change as it will. I do really believe there are many rooms that would have cost their owners less, had they been entirely lined with marble, and otherwise ornamented with fresco painting and mosaic, than they have done in consequence of being furbished up every now and then by decorators and paper-hangers, and often in very questionable taste, while after all, the effect for the time is at the best of an inferior kind. Besides by economy and a little dexterity of management even materials may be obtained at a comparatively moderate cost: works in _Carrara_ marble, for instance, may be executed in Italy from designs sent over for that purpose, at about half the price, including freight and duty, which they would cost in England. The only inconvenience is that they cannot be furnished so promptly, it being requisite that the orders for them should be given some time beforehand. You will perhaps recollect the circumstance I have stated in respect to this matter in my "ARCHITECTURA DOMESTICA." As to gilding--oil-gilding is cheaper than water-gilding; which last has only the advantage of looking more brilliant than the former at first. Fresco painting, again is less expensive than any mode of painting in oil; for it necessarily demands far greater rapidity of execution, and the effect being produced at once, instead of the work proceeding through all the different stages from dead colouring to the last finishing. How very poor a succedaneum for fresco painting is Gobelius tapestry! in which latter the execution is entirely mechanical, giving a mere soulless plodding transcript of the original, while as some of the colours fade sooner than the rest, the whole becomes in a short time quite inharmonious. I am moreover convinced that there are many able artists now living, who would execute designs in fresco for the same price that is paid for designs in tapestry; so that durability being considered, the saving accruing from the former would be considerable. Nor is it the least important consideration of all, that art itself would be extensively benefited by the adoption of such practice. I at least am thoroughly convinced, that a single room painted in fresco by an able artist would do more for the advancement of sound art in England than a score of commissions for oil-pictures, or than a hundred so called illustrated editions of popular works, with wood cuts. Pre-eminently gifted as is England with a true feeling for colouring, there is no doubt but that her school would be able to impart a fresh vigour to fresco painting, and would set a bright example to the continent in this branch of the art. Yours, &c. A. C. N.B. Some further observations of M. de Chateauneuf's, in defence of his views regarding the fit style of architecture for a modern house, and also his design for the interior, have been omitted: I regret this, and so, I think, will the reader; the additions, however, would have made the work too expensive. The plates at the end will give a clear idea of the general plan and the elevation, and the last plate contains the proposed alteration of the tower, and omitting the lake. _Editor._ [Heading illustration] LETTER XI. TO CHARLES LOCK EASTLAKE, ESQ. R.A. ETC. MY DEAR SIR, AT length I write to claim the performance of your promise, viz. that you would give me your advice as regards the decoration of the house designed by M. de Chateauneuf, the drawings and plans for which you have seen. After some discussion, and a struggle on my part in favour of the Elizabethan, the Perpendicular-gothic, or whatever the style is to be designated, M. de Chateauneuf has triumphed, and the Italian, or revived antique, (essentially the Grecian,) has been finally agreed on. You are aware how strongly I feel that one of the best modes of advancing the fine arts, is by paying greater attention to the interior decorations of our houses, than has hitherto been the fashion in England. The best proof of your own opinion on this subject, is the kindness with which you devoted much time and labour to the designing and executing for me the Pompeian room so deservedly admired. Entertaining this view on the subject of ornament, makes me the more anxious to take all possible pains in selecting the style of decoration, so as the house should prove that its owner is a lover of art, and that it should, as far as is compatible with a reasonable economy, be considered in some degree as a pattern of what might be accomplished in the matter of decoration. I never think on the subject without calling to mind the principles laid down for the ornamenting a country house, in Mr. Rogers's "Invitation to a Friend:" indeed, looking to his intimate knowledge of the whole circle of fine arts, and lastly, the specimen of refined taste which his own town house exhibits, my _beau ideal_ is a house decorated under his direction; but as this cannot be obtained, I trust that you, who possess so much of his spirit and refinement, will, as far as may be compatible with your engagements, afford me the benefit of your assistance. Although the subject of decoration, both as regards houses and public buildings, has been hitherto much neglected in this country, I think now every one is becoming fully alive to its importance. The establishment of the Government School of Design, in which, for the first time in England, the art of design, as applied to decoration, is systematically taught;--the opportunity afforded by the building of the Houses of Parliament;--the Committee of the House of Commons, which has already reported on the subject of their decoration;--and the Royal commission entrusted with the further consideration of the subject,--cannot fail to produce within a few years a great alteration in the views and taste of the public. I may here observe, that the School of Design, and the training of young workmen, will mainly tend to assist those who may be inclined to give up the ornamenting their saloons and halls with cheap printed papers, by producing persons who will be able, at a moderate cost, to execute the original designs of eminent artists, or to copy the great works of antiquity. Hitherto, except when foreigners were introduced, it has been scarcely possible to obtain the assistance of workmen capable of executing anything beyond the commonest and simplest scrolls or straight lines; or if such assistance were obtained, it could only be procured at a cost which put any extensive scale of decoration beyond the reach of any but the affluent. As regards the style and mode of execution of the proposed decorations, I should, of course, wish to be guided by your judgment. Whether it may be expedient merely to copy or adapt from known examples, such as the baths of Titus, and the paintings of Pompeii, or from the great masters of modern times, such as the designs of Raphael and Giulio Romano;--or whether an entirely new style, founded on a study of the general principles of art as applied to decoration, should be attempted, is for you to determine. Again, it may be a question, whether in different rooms a different course should be pursued, for the sake of variety. Respecting the vehicle, whether encaustic, fresco, or oil, or all three, should be used, must be determined by you. You will observe there is the outer hall, and staircase, the inner hall, the library, the two drawing rooms, and the dining room, all requiring your attention. The library, I should wish to be devoted as far as possible to art, especially as the books it will contain relate principally to painting and sculpture. I remain yours very sincerely, H. B. * * * * * P. S.--I should state that this application is made to you, with the perfect assent, nay, indeed, at the request of M. de Chateauneuf, who is desirous that his design should have the benefit of your advice, as regards its ornament: the specimen given in M. de Chateauneuf's work on Domestic Architecture, of the embellishment of the house executed by him at Hamburgh, and indeed some observations he has sent to me, sufficiently prove that he is in nowise deficient in this important branch of an architect's duty. [Decorative illustration] [Decorative illustration along left margin] LETTER XII. MY DEAR SIR, I SHOULD willingly refer you to abler advisers if M. de Chateauneuf's house were as real as it deserves to be; but although the conditions which you and the architect have proposed to yourselves have led to very definite arrangements in the structure itself, a pleasing uncertainty may be assumed to exist with regard to the decorations: in a word, I can scarcely shrink from a responsibility as ideal as the subject of our speculation. I am sorry you have again referred to a certain "Pompeian" room; believe me, too much has been said of what you know was a rough experiment, to see the effect of a particular kind of decoration for small rooms, and which, as regards its details, can only deserve attention from the skill with which Mr. Harvey executed the animals that are introduced. The word "decoration," however appropriate to fantastic ornaments, and in some degree to insulated figures, has, as you know, been considered vilifying when applied to works that are addressed to the mind. But, as we have no other term, we must consent to use it in both meanings. It is, indeed, important to remember, that no works of art, however elevated, can dispense with the appeal, the impressive or winning appeal, to the eye. Thus much for our definition of terms. As a general principle in decoration, I would recommend that the eye should be solely or chiefly addressed where a passing glance only can be given to the work, and that the attention should be more taxed where leisure and surrounding circumstances permit or invite contemplation. The reverse of this would be manifestly wrong; but the recommendation itself is not to be understood too literally. Every display has its legitimate exuberance: the "over and above" in decoration can only be that of quality, for mere taste is supposed to define all that relates to quantity. As common poetic description sometimes exalts its subject less by accumulation than by supposing costly materials where mean ones would do, so in art the augmenting excellence ascends from sense to thought. If, therefore, the intention to afford mental pleasure is very apparent even in situations where this may appear superfluous and in a manner thrown away, the impression must of itself be elevating. But the indispensable condition is, that a gradation should still be maintained; that higher excellence should still be in reserve. What must be the character of works of art to which Raphael's Corridor in the Vatican forms the mere approach? The answer is given by the perfection of the works in the Stanze. All that is to be insisted on, therefore, is a due gradation in conformity with the principle first proposed. In the remarks that follow, I cannot strictly follow the plan of the house, but must often generalize; the observations submitted, if tenable at all, will, however, be easily applicable to your purpose. The pavement of the halls might be enriched, but I can hardly approve the occasional practice of the ancients in placing mosaic "histories" under their feet:[6] the objections are sufficiently obvious. The forms and hues employed should be merely calculated to gratify the sight. Among other preliminary considerations, I would also include the nature of the mere surface, as well as the distinction of every apartment. Thus a pavement, however decorated, should still express the character of firmness and solidity. For this reason I would banish even the lowest kind of life, (that of plants,) and every approach to perspective. Geometrical forms would thus be alone admissible: the variety is infinite; but even here I would again exclude abrupt and irregular contrasts of colour, which have sometimes the effect of making the evenness of the surface doubtful: the last consideration is even applicable to carpets. With respect to the classic fashion of inscriptions on the threshold,[7] I merely remark, that letters are only ornamental in architecture when disposed symmetrically, and enclosed in a regular frame-work. [6] The passion for this kind of decoration was carried so far that the ornamented floor of the dining-room sometimes represented the scattered fragments of a repast. _Plin._ I. xxxvi. c. 25. [7] Even the Mosaic floor at the entrance to bed-rooms, had inscriptions; a pavement of this kind was found at Brindisi, wit the words BENE DORMIO. In approving the common practice of placing statues and bas-reliefs in the principal hall, I do not depart from the spirit of our first principles. A statue has generally the advantage of being seen in various points of view, and thus commands attention in situations where paintings could not. The rich effect of bas-reliefs is sufficient to recommend them; associations of classic taste are naturally connected with the classic materials of marble or bronze; and architecture, when displayed as such, seems to acquire additional solidity by the presence of sculpture. But works of sculpture of the first excellence should be admitted to the library or drawing room, and even fragments of rare beauty should be enshrined with like distinction. For the present, however, we are in the hall. I do not recommend mixing mural painting and sculpture: no painted devices should compete injudiciously with the bas-reliefs. But let us suppose that your bas-reliefs are in the outer hall, and that you have only some sculptured vases on detached pedestals in the inner hall or corridor, then by all means decorate the walls of the latter with arabesques: to these we shall return. In the staircase, also, it will be necessary to make your election between the two arts. I will assume that you decide for painting. Few people linger in a staircase; still fewer break their necks to look at a painted ceiling. If the scene affects the eye and the imagination agreeably, this may be considered sufficient. When we see the whole Pantheon on the ceiling and walls of great staircases, this undoubtedly might be defended on the ground that a mere passing impression of magnificence is intended: but the exuberance of quantity rather than of quality is here obvious. In whatever mode the walls of the staircase are adorned, the decoration should be entirely subservient to the architectural effect. This involves a more radical objection to the mythologic crowds before alluded to, because they have frequently the effect (and intentionally so) of destroying all idea of the angles of the building. I am of opinion, on the contrary, that the decorator should dispose his paintings in shapes which shall appear to grow out of and complete the architecture. The inclination of the panelling of the wall to agree with the line of the stairs, may be considered incompatible with paintings: a horizontal termination, perhaps level with the chief landing-place, is essential, and the triangular spaces, or sections of such spaces, between this and the stairs, had better be left nearly plain, and not very light in colour. Of all mistakes, that of introducing painted figures, sometimes the size of life, where living figures must so often come in contact with them, is the worst. The compartment or compartments above the horizontal line might be painted in fresco, certainly not in oil on the wall, nor in the newly revived encaustic, at least not till it has been further tried. The figures should not extend to the angles of the walls where the staircase turns; the pseudo or real compartments which form the frames might finish at a little distance from the angle; the real wall is, in short, never to be lost sight of; and whatever merits ocular illusion may have in paintings generally, it would be injudicious to attempt it here. Where the light is unfavourable for painting, the flattest style of bas-relief is still admissible. But as you are especially desirous of having your staircase coloured, I really can propose nothing fitter to gratify the eye and imagination merely, than the more refined and at the same time familiar subjects of the Greek mythology; such as the personifications of Poetry, the progress of the Hours and of Light, and so forth. Such subjects afford the best materials for mere beauty of line and drapery, for composition generally, and, if not too statue-like, for colour; and even when they suggest no profounder range of thought, (not that their import is necessarily thus superficial,) they leave an elegant impression on the mind. The objection is, that they are old; but there would be some novelty in treating them as detached compositions, instead of beclouding and peopling the whole space in the style of the seventeenth century. It is to be remarked, that Raphael and Michael Angelo bounded their compositions of this kind by definite forms, especially on ceilings. Pietro da Cortona and the machinists generally, were as intent on destroying the connection between painting and architecture as the great masters were to preserve it. But this separation of the compositions into compartments supposes at once a great latitude in the choice of subjects. Milton's smaller poems, and many other English sources, might be preferred to classic inventions; only it should be remembered, that fresco, from the nature of its means, is privileged to aim at the ideal rather than the actual world, and that the character of the decorations required for the place must necessarily influence the selection and treatment of the subjects. Dark effects are equally unfit for the situation and for the powers of fresco. In the ornamented divisions of the compartments, perhaps partial gilding might be employed with better effect than colours; on the ceiling both might be introduced, (in merely decorative forms,) unless your staircase ends in light, in which case your glass must of course be ornamented, even if colourless. Dining rooms, strictly so called and employed, are generally unadorned with pictures: this hardly seems necessary. In theory we may admit that subjects requiring some contemplation would be out of place in a room exclusively devoted to "the table;" but portraits of celebrated individuals, and landscapes, although they cannot be duly examined in such moments, may convey associations, to which the spectator, even if not particularly conversant in pictures, is supposed to be alive at all times. Portraits of the class alluded to, as historic texts, are connected with _time_; and landscape, especially if founded on actual scenes, suggests the conditions of _place_. A room used for the purpose in question, and for _nothing else_, is, however, not the place where fine works of art should be bestowed; and I incline to think that this is the fittest field for small frescos and arabesques. This, in short, is one of the occasions to please the eye and the imagination merely. Accordingly, in the mode proposed, no definite idea is presented to the mind, but an air of elegant and festive splendour surrounds the guests. There should, however, be endless variety; scarcely a form should be repeated in the details, although an architectural symmetry is, as usual, to be preserved in the masses. A dining room _per se_ is not uncommon; but a professed and exclusive breakfast room supposes a degree of order in the family migrations, to which the muses could hardly be expected to accommodate themselves. Nevertheless, to complete my catalogue, I will suppose one; or rather I will suppose that one of your drawing rooms is used chiefly as a morning room. Indeed, without condemning a family to betake themselves to particular rooms at stated hours, it may be allowable to decorate and furnish apartments on such a supposition, by way of ensuring a marked and agreeable variety of character. Lucullus had even a series of dining rooms from the "Apollo" downwards; and we learn from Vitruvius,[8] that the opulent Romans changed the scene of their banquets according to the season of the year. The morning has its own feelings even for those whom affluence frees from any kind of labour. The purposes of the day are unfinished--every thing is contingent. Under such circumstances the character or subject of pictures is to be adapted to the mind--not the mind to the subject. The open face of nature by sea and land may here enliven the walls, and agree with the excursive feelings of the hour. The chase and its incidents may here triumph. The English pastoral is here strictly in its place. Solemn themes, solemn effects, should not be admitted; while all that responds to buoyancy of spirit would, on the contrary, be appropriate. It need not be gravely objected, that accidental or even average states of feeling may be little in unison with the impressions which the arts profess to give; for the same objection is frequently applicable to all of the accompaniments of civilized life, nay, to the beauties of nature, which so often appeal even to cultivated human sympathies in vain. The occasional contradiction is unavoidable, where, of two conditions, one is permanent, the other mutable. [8] De Architect, 1. vi. c. 7. Corridors on the ground-floor, or even upstairs in houses where pictures do not abound, may be fitly decorated with arabesques. The same kind of ornament might be applied to garden pavilions, and, in the present instance, even to your portico next the lake, if there are no statues there, but not to conservatories, where the conventional forms and tints of art would contend injudiciously with nature. In these decorations it is absolutely necessary to set out with an architectural scheme, and subdivide the spaces with some attention to congruity and subordination. In the details, pleasing masses and forms are essential, because here nothing can be concealed; there is, strictly speaking, no chiaro-scuro, no perspective: form and colour are the chief means. The possibility of approaching and even coming in contact with the painted wall, suggests the necessity of a small scale in the objects, and of precision and delicacy of outline; yet, from the circumstance of the forms and hues being relieved on a light ground, they are at the same time effective at a considerable distance.[9] Stucco ornaments in very low relief, mixed with the painting, are admissible, (as they can hardly be said to come under the head of sculpture,) but they require a strong light to display them. [9] The best examples of decorations of this kind are now accessible to all, in a recently published work by Thurmer and Gutensohn, containing the arabesques of the Vatican, the Farnesina, the Villa Lanti, and the Villa Madama: edited by Ludwig Gruner, to be had of Mr. Murray, Albemarle Street: with this work may be classed the publications of Zahn, on the ornamental inventions of Giulio Romano at Mantua, and on the decorations of Pompeii. I cannot recommend frescos for the sitting rooms of dwelling houses. The sum of enjoyment to be derived from one or two large paintings is not to be compared to that which the contributions of various schools can afford, even assuming the highest merit. It is true, frescos like those of the Villa Madama near Rome, from the school of Raphael, may be beautifully executed in a small size, but they still seem fitter for open galleries than for rooms. (I have only ventured to except the dining room.) The impossibility of change in such situations is an unpleasant feeling; in a public building, on the contrary, it is satisfactory, and a staircase approaches this character. I may here observe, that a staircase covered with ancient family portraits is seldom agreeable to the eye; indeed if it were a desirable kind of decoration, centuries must often elapse before the materials would be ready. The first impression on seeing a quantity of portraits in a staircase is, that it is an accidental if not a troublesome accumulation, and that there is no room for the pictures in better situations. Far be it from me to speak with any disrespect of the taste for family portraits so peculiar to the English. The domestic "charities," it has been often observed, are pleasingly fostered by them; but I hold it not always necessary to place the portraits of the household in prominent situations. The interest such works inspire is in most cases strictly domestic and private. The portrait has, in short, no pretension to be conspicuous to all eyes till the individual is celebrated, or till the work of art is canonized. These conditions, I admit, may often exist from the first; but then, _à fortiori_, a staircase is not the place for such a production. The Romans appropriated one of the most public rooms of the house (the _tablinum_) to genealogies, records, and inscriptions relating to the family history, and covered the remaining space--often the _atrium_ as well--with the portraits and busts of their ancestors.[10] This does not appear to have been the custom with the Athenians. [10] Juv. Sat. 8; Plin. 1. xxxv. c. 2. We have decided against frescos in what are called sitting rooms: your oil pictures are, however, to be selected. I shall consider the library as distinct from the drawing rooms; but it is quite possible to blend their character. The library in the ducal palace at Urbino, had a room or study adjoining it, decorated with portraits (in this case, by the way, they appear to have been frescos) of learned men of all ages. In a library, literally to be used as such, pictures of extensive interest seem to be inappropriate. They may be said to divert the attention from the business or amusement of the place. But the portrait of the poet, or the sage, is a source of pleasing and elevating associations, and may sometimes command a deep interest. The library may contain the cabinets of gems and medals, the collections of engravings, the terra cottas, &c.; or if the drawing room is ample enough, all these treasures of virtù may be deposited there. I prefer a library without coloured decorations; the wood-work may be carved in flat relief, even to the panels of the walls; a mode of decoration now beautifully supplied by embossed leather, which need not be dark in colour. Whatever colour appears, except in the portraits, miniatures, or illuminations hung around, should be in the books; these should strike the eye, and be, so to speak, in the foreground of the picture. Vases, or busts, may surmount the cases. The ancients preferred the latter; and many, like Asinius Pollio, collected in their libraries the authentic, and even imaginary, portraits of great men. Among the latter was the bust of Homer.[11] The light is generally so unfavourable in the upper part of modern rooms, that busts when placed so high, are reduced to mere ornaments, and require the addition of names. This, indeed, is not objectionable in any case, for the interest of a portrait commonly depends on historical associations. I see no objection even to inscribing both the subject and the name of the master under works of art generally: a volume bears its title and author's name; and pictures, to many, are as sealed books till inquiry is stimulated or interest quickened by similar means. When the description is too long to admit of this, the words "see Catalogue, No. --" might be added. [11] Plin. 1. xxxv. c. 2. If colour is admitted any where in the library, it might be in subjects on the ceiling, allowable here, if at all, in the region of easy chairs and occasional meditation; perhaps too, to a certain extent, in the windows. The introduction of subjects on ceilings has not been recommended generally, but in the system of arabesque painting the universal decoration of the walls requires to be carried into the ceiling. Sculpture, from the reasons already given, or rather in accordance with the same taste, is quite admissible in the library. Cicero frequently writes to his friend at Athens, to send him any good works in sculpture, fit to adorn the library and residence of a man of letters.[12] [12] Epist. ad Attic. 1. i. c. 3, 8, 9, 10, &c. It is remarkable that a bas-relief, in the finest Greek style, representing a philosopher reading, was found in the ruins of Cicero's Tusculan villa. Some English sculptors and myself, during an excursion from Rome, first, I may almost say, discovered this marble, walled into the staircase of the Episcopal palace at Grotta Ferrata. A mould was afterwards taken from it, through the exertions of Mr. Gibson, and the cast is now common in Rome. The marble was, I think, afterwards removed to the Vatican. But the choicest works of taste should unquestionably be in the room most occupied in hours of calm seclusion and leisure; and in order to find wall enough for the pictures, this may be assumed to be the principal drawing room. Here, therefore, may be the best specimens of painting, and even of sculpture, if the space permits: here, the chimney-piece may be by Flaxman, and the doors of the print-case by Stothard. The pictures cannot be very large, on account of their number and the size of the room. This, the objection which in a great measure excludes the grandest works from our dwelling houses, was met by the Italians, and by Nicolo Poussin, by reducing the grand to domestic conditions. If you have only small pictures, however, you cannot cover the upper part of the walls, for you are not supposed to have any work of art _here_ which can be sacrificed. Enlightened connoisseurs see excellence both in the Dutch and Italian schools, but they are often embarrassed in arranging them together. I am convinced, however, from instances I have seen, that this is to be accomplished satisfactorily. It is sometimes argued, that no one reads Milton and Crabbe alternately; but this is hardly a parallel case. Many go to a gallery to look at a particular picture, and see nothing else; the eye is blind when the attention is not actively exerted. So in a room, the spectator selects his favourites--his favourites at least for the time, and scarcely looks beyond them. At another moment, he will perhaps direct his undivided attention to works which he passed over on a former occasion. A certain congruity is sometimes to be accomplished, by attending to impressions rather than names and schools. Many an Italian picture would not be out of place with the Flemish and Dutch school; while Vandyck, Rembrandt, Cuyp, and others, might sometimes harmonize in many respects with the genius of the south. The arrangement of pictures comprehends some of the difficulties which the artist experiences in the production of _one_; for a certain balance and repose are as essential for the eye, as an harmonious impression for the mind. Much must, therefore, depend on the nature of the materials; and the (assumed) different character of your two drawing rooms may here be an advantage. You, I know, will not ask whether the productions of the English school are admissible in this "Tribune" as well as elsewhere. Such is the variety of English art, that the more refined Dutch, the Flemish, and the Italian taste, may be recognized in it by turns, and no modern pictures harmonize with the scheme of colour and effect which characterize the master-works of former ages so well as the English of the last century. Thus much of schools, and those we have not mentioned may be tried by the same tests. With regard to subjects, the mind as well as the eye must be respected: the _ethos_ of painting is quite compatible with familiar and homely subjects; and, on the other hand, the greatest Italian masters have sometimes sought for poetic impressions in regions where it would be unsafe to follow them. But, with this reservation, you must not be exclusive: various minds, or the same mind in various moods, will like variety of aliment. In other situations, which we have had occasion to consider, the subject has been in a great degree calculated on the probable feelings of the spectator; here, the subject is independent, because the attention is free, and the whole art appeals by turns to the whole range of thought. The leisure of cultivated human beings should be so far complimented as to assume that all the strivings of the mind are worthy to be ministered to. It is a mistake to suppose that solemn or even terrible themes are always objectionable; I believe it will be found that the grander efforts of invention (I speak of works by the ancient masters) are very generally appreciated by the gentler sex. On the other hand, the fondness for humbler subjects is not always referable to the homeliness of the incident represented. The subject often acquires elevation, and commands respect, by the evidence of mental labour and power in the artist. To a true connoisseur, this skilful application of principles derived from universal nature, supersedes the mere subject; and the idea which he recognizes, whatever may be its vehicle, is grand and poetical. Less experienced observers are often deceived by the title of pictures: "A Court Yard" (de Hooghe) sounds unpromising enough; but when it is seen that the painter has represented _daylight_ with magical truth, and that all is subservient to this, his aim must be acknowledged to be dignified. It is to be observed too, that the influence of this high aim on the part of the artist, often extends itself to the treatment of the materials which constitute his ostensible subject. It is easy to see from the unaffected feeling, as well as from the _relative_ character of the execution in some (though not all) of the Dutch masters, that the real subject of their meditation was noble. I should like to see a _catalogue raisonné_ on the principle to which I have alluded, distinguishing the title of a picture from the real intention of the artist. Many frequenters of the National Gallery criticise Reynolds's Three Graces, whence it appears they are not sufficiently aware that the personages in question are portraits of three fashionable ladies of the day, under the name of the Graces, &c. If some titles were translated, what a contrast the real import of the work would present to the actual name! What a change, for instance, from the modesty of some of ----'s titles, "Crossing the Brook,"--"Coal-barges in the Thames: Night," to the beauty and grandeur that would have to be clothed in language! But what language would be adequate? With respect to the colour of the walls on which pictures are hung, my opinion is singular without being novel. I am quite aware that it is necessary to consider wall, pictures, gold frames, and all, in relation to general effect: the gold, especially, is to be treated as part of the coup d'[oe]il. But, though I remember examples of light walls hung with pictures, producing an agreeable effect, I prefer a colour which displays the pictures more, and must also maintain, that living pictures are seldom seen to the best advantage against a bright ground; the quantity of actual light (it may always be assumed) making reflected light unnecessary: my idea, in one word, is, that the wall should not be so light as the lights of the pictures; and this supposes a sufficiently low tint. Of such colours, the most agreeable is the long established rich red, which might be sufficiently allied to purple, to give value to the gold frames and the warm colour of the pictures. I need not recommend you to avoid too much unbroken polish in the frames, since this is now very generally disapproved of. I have, as you see, exercised, apparently without scruple, the dictatorial authority with which you have invested me; but the frequent recurrence of "my opinion" becomes painful even to the arbiter who has a _carte blanche_ to lay down the law. As a relief, I intended to have given you some extracts from an Italian ethical work (printed about the middle of the 16th century[13]) in which there is a chapter on the "ornamenti della casa;" but they would have been, perhaps, little suited to your purpose, and I have already far exceeded the space I ought to occupy. As I may not, however, again have an opportunity of alluding to this work, which is not unimportant in the history of Italian art, I wish briefly to advert to one or two points. [13] Castiglione Saba, Ricordi ovvero Ammaestramenti, &c. Milano, 1559. The list of pictures given seems to prove that the Italians long remained faithful to the older masters. The names of Titian and Coreggio do not appear! (I hope you will not follow the Catalogue in such defects.) This is not to be explained, by supposing that the writer speaks for himself only; for he repeatedly says, "Some like to ornament their rooms with the works of ----, others, with those of ----," and so on, as if professing to give a variety of tastes. I can only account for this in one way: the author lived in Milan, and it would appear that the taste of Leonardo, closely allied as it was to that of the schools of Central Italy, long continued to influence the Milanese amateurs as well as the Milanese painters. I pass over the musical instruments, which, beside their chief use, "piacciono assai al'occhio," especially when made by Lorenzo da Pavia, or Bastiano da Verona. Donatello, Michael Angelo, Alfonso Lombardi, and Cristoforo Romano, are the sculptors he enumerates. The terra cottas are by Pagaino da Modena; the bronzes by Verocchio and Pollaiuolo. Beside antique medals, he admires those of Giovanni Corona of Venice, together with the chasings of Caradosso. Among the works of the latter, he mentions a silver inkstand in basso rilievo, "fatica d'anni venti sei! ma certo divina." Cameos and intaglios should be, he thinks, by the hand of Pietro Maria, Tagliacarne, &c. but above all by Giovanni di Castello. Now for his list of painters: Filippo Lippi, Mantegna, Giovanni Bellini, Leonardo da Vinci, although, he adds, he left but few works.[14] Then follow the younger Lippi, and Perugino, and, heralded with appropriate honours, Raphael, accompanied by Giulio Romano. Pietro della Francesca, and Melozzo da Forlì, are characterized well, as indeed are all the painters. He next mentions some artists, all monks, who wrought in inlaid wood; (commesso, tarsia;) but his highest praises in this department are reserved for Fra Damiano da Bergamo, the artist of the choir of S. Domenico at Bologna. The engravings he speaks of are by Albert Durer and Lucas van Leyden. [14] The author says he was an eye-witness of the Gascon crossbowmen making a target of Leonardo's model for the equestrian statue of Francesco Sforza. Tapestries from Flanders, carpets from Syria, Turkey, and Barbary, figured leather from Spain, are all admitted to be desirable ornaments: "Tutti questi ornamenti ancora commendo perchè arguiscono ingegno, politezza, civilità e cortegiania." The author next describes his own treasures; but, except a head by Donatello and some rare books, he has nothing to boast of. His tastes are characteristic of the age: though a priest, his ambition is to have a collection of arms and armour, if wrought by a good Italian or German armourer; and above all, he aspires to the possession of a large steel mirror, of the kind made by Giovanni della Barba, a German: the mirrors of glass then in use, were, it appears, very small and imperfect. The author's judicious observations (to which I refer you) on the chief use of mirrors, may reconcile you to their occasional introduction over chimney pieces, which, for the rest, are by no means the best places for pictures. The chapter ends with a pleasing story about a mirror and a lady, and Galeazzo Visconti, Duke of Milan, a story not unworthy to be a _pendant_ for "Collalto,"[15] and which might have furnished a subject for the graceful pencil of Stothard; but it is time to make an end. I am yours faithfully, C. L. EASTLAKE. [15] See Rogers's Italy. FINIS. [Illustration: _Maistre, il sembleroit que ne fussiez grandement sage de nous escrire ces balivernes!_] LONDON: C. WHITTINGHAM, TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE. [Illustration: Plate II. South elevation.] [Illustration: Plate III. North elevation.] [Illustration: Plate IV. East elevation.] [Illustration: Plate V. Proposed alteration of the tower.] Transcriber's note: Text in small capitals was transformed to all capitals. The following corrections have been made: p. 22: "expect too much" Period added after much; "pure Pompean house" Pompean changed to Pompeian; p. 36: "into a small anti-room" anti-room changed to ante-room; p. 40: "not a toothach" toothach changed to toothache; p. 42: "statues and bas reliefs" bas reliefs changed to bas-reliefs; p. 48: "particlar fashion of the day" particlar changed to particular; p. 50: "LOCK EASTLAKE, ESQ," Comma after ESQ replaced with period; p. 55: A misplaced line. The original text is [relevant part enclosed by number signs (#)]: "In approving the common practice of placing statues and bas-reliefs in statue has generally the advantage of being seen in various points of view, and thus commands attention in situations where paintings could not. The rich effect of bas-reliefs is sufficient to recommend them; associations of classic taste are naturally connected with the classic materials of marble or #the principal hall, I do not depart from the spirit of our first principles. A# bronze; and architecture, when displayed as such, seems to acquire additional" This part was moved to after "In approving the common practice of placing statues and bas-reliefs in" Footnote 8: "De Architect." Period replaced with comma; Everything else retained as printed. 
17804	----	IF YOU'RE GOING TO LIVE IN THE COUNTRY [Illustration: A RIVERSIDE HOME RECONSTRUCTED FROM THE RUINS OF AN OLD MILL _Photo by Samuel H. Gottscho_ _Robertson Ward, architect_] IF YOU'RE GOING TO LIVE IN THE COUNTRY BY THOMAS H. ORMSBEE AND RICHMOND HUNTLEY [Illustration] DECORATIONS BY FRANK LIEBERMAN [Illustration] THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY PUBLISHERS NEW YORK COPYRIGHT, 1937 BY THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine or newspaper. MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA BY THE VAIL-BALLOU PRESS, INC., BINGHAMTON, N. Y. To CARROLL and THERESE NICHOLS ACKNOWLEDGMENTS No book that covers so many phases of human relationships could be compiled without taking advice from those who are specialists. When we have wanted to know facts, we have freely turned to others whose detailed knowledge represented long experience. For this assistance we are particularly indebted to: M. Shaler Allen, Bruce Millar, Mrs. Herbert Q. Brown, and George S. Platts; also, to _House & Garden_, in which parts of this book appeared serially; and to Miss Eleanor V. Searing for many hours spent reading manuscript. New Canaan, Conn. April 1937 CONTENTS PAGE INTRODUCTION xi CHAPTER I. WHY LIVE IN THE COUNTRY 3 II. SELECTING THE LOCATION 19 III. SHOPPING FOR PROPERTY 35 IV. CALL IN AN ARCHITECT 57 V. BUILDING VERSUS REMODELING 73 VI. LOOKING AN OLD HOUSE IN THE MOUTH 91 VII. NEW SITES FOR OLD HOUSES 105 VIII. THE SMOKE GOES UP THE CHIMNEY 121 IX. THE QUESTION OF WATER SUPPLY 139 X. SEWAGE SAFETY 153 XI. DECORATIONS AND FURNISHINGS 165 XII. THE FACTORY PART OF THE HOUSE 179 XIII. PETS AND LIVESTOCK 191 XIV. TIGHTENING FOR WINTER 203 XV. KEEPING HOME FIRES IN THEIR PLACE 215 XVI. WHEN THINGS GO WRONG 227 XVII. WORKING WITH NATURE 243 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS A riverside home reconstructed from the ruins of an old mill _Frontispiece_ _Robertson Ward, architect. Photo by Gottscho_ FACING PAGE The Ogden house, Fairfield, Conn. Built before 1705, it has been restored to preserve the original details 12 _Miss Mary Allis_ An old farmhouse in the rough 36 _Photo by John Runyon_ A really Early American interior. The great fireplace of the Wayside Inn, Sudbury, Mass. 60 _Henry Ford_ Once half a house and a hen roost 76 _Photo by Whitney_ What can be done with a barn 76 _Robertson Ward, architect. Photo by Gottscho_ As they built a chimney in the 18th Century 118 _Photo by John Runyon_ A place for summer and week-ends 148 _Robertson Ward, architect. Photo by La Roche_ True 18th Century simplicity. Now the authors' dining room 170 _Photo by John Runyon_ Entirely new, but with all the charm of an old house 184 _Robertson Ward, architect. Photo by Gottscho_ Snow has dignity, but is the house snug and warm? 206 _Photo by Gottscho_ An imposing country home of classic dignity 220 _Robertson Ward, architect. Photo by Gottscho_ Skillful planting of trees, shrubs, and flowers make the setting 244 _Robertson Ward, architect. Photo by Gottscho_ [Illustration] INTRODUCTION There is a beginning with everything. So far as this book is concerned, annual driving trips through Central Vermont are responsible. They were great events, planned months in advance. With a three-seated carriage and a stocky span good for thirty miles a day and only spirited if they met one of those new contraptions aglitter with polished brass gadgets, that fed on gasoline instead of honest cracked corn and oats, we took to the road. A newspaper man, vacation-free from Broadway first nights and operas sung by Melba, Sembrich, and the Brothers de Reszke, was showing his city-bred children his native hills and introducing them to the beauties of a world alien to asphalt pavements and brownstone fronts. It was leisurely travel. When the road was unusually steep, to spare the horses, we walked. If Mother's eagle eye spotted a four-leaf clover, we stopped and picked it. If a bend in the road brought a pleasing prospect into view, the horses could be certain of ten minutes for cropping roadside grass. Most of all, no farmhouse nestling beneath wide-spread maples or elms went without careful consideration of Father's constant daydream, a home in the country. These driving trips often included overnight stops with relatives living in villages undisturbed by the screech and thunder of freight and way trains, or with others living on picturesque old farms. Afterward there was always lively conversation concerning the possibilities of Cousin This or That's home as a country place. This reached fever heat after visits to Great Aunt Laura who lived in a roomy old house painted white with green blinds in a town bordering on Lake Champlain. A pair of horse-chestnut trees flanked the walk to the front door,--a portal unopened save for weddings, funerals, and the minister's yearly call. From here could be seen the sweep of the main range of the Green Mountains. The kitchen doorway afforded a view of Mount Marcy and the Adirondacks never to be forgotten. It was the ancestral home with all the proper attributes, horse barn, woodshed, tool houses, and a large hay barn. Father's dream for forty years was to recapture it and settle down to the cultivation of rustic essays instead of its unyielding clay soil. However, he was first and last a newspaper man and his practical side told him that Shoreham was too far from Broadway. So it remained a dream. His city-born and bred son inherited the insidious idea. Four years in a country college augmented it and, as time went on, the rumble of trucks and blare of neighboring radios turned a formerly quiet street on Brooklyn Heights into a bedlam and brought matters to a head. Great Aunt Laura's place was still too far away but explorers returning from ventures into the far reaches of Westchester County, and western Connecticut, had brought back tales of pleasantly isolated farmhouses with rolling acres well dotted with trees and stone fences. Here, thanks to the automobile and commuting trains, was the solution. A country place near enough to the city, so that the owner could have his cake and eat it, too. After some months of searching and several wild goose chases, a modest little place was found. The original plan was to live there just a few weeks in the summer, possibly from June into September, but the period stretched a bit each year. Now it is the year around. We are but one of many families that have traded the noise and congestion of city life for the quiet and isolation of the open country. Nor do all such cling to the commuting fringe of the larger cities. A good proportion have their country homes some hours' distant, and the city is only visited at infrequent intervals. Wherever his country place is located, however, there are certain problems confronting the city dweller who takes to rural life. They are the more baffling because they are not problems at all to his country-bred neighbors. The latter assume that any adult with a grain of common sense must know all about such trifles as rotten sills, damp cellars, hornets that nest in the attic, frozen pipes in winter, and wells that fail in dry seasons. Of course, no one treatise can hope to serve as a guide for every problem that comes with life in the open country. This book is no compendium. It concerns itself only with the most obvious pitfalls that lie ahead of one inured to well-serviced city life. WHY LIVE IN THE COUNTRY? [Illustration] _CHAPTER I_ WHY LIVE IN THE COUNTRY? The urge to live in the country besets most of us sooner or later. Spring with grass vividly green, buds bursting and every pond a bedlam of the shrill, rhythmic whistle of frogs, is the most dangerous season. Some take a walk in the park. Others write for Strout's farm catalogues, read them hungrily and are well. But there are the incurables. Their fever is fed for months and years by the discomforts and amenities of city life. Eventually they escape and contentedly become box numbers along rural postal routes. Why do city-bred people betake themselves to the country? The surface reasons are as many as why they are Republicans or Democrats, but the basic one is escape from congestion and confusion. For themselves or their children their goal is the open country beyond the suburban fringe. Here the children, like young colts, can be turned out to run and race, kick up their heels and enjoy life, free of warnings to be quiet lest they annoy the elderly couple in the apartment below or the nervous wreck the other side of that suburban privet hedge. The day and night rattle and bang of the city may go unnoticed for years but eventually it takes its toll. Then comes a great longing to get away from it all. If family income is independent of salary earned by a city job, there is nothing to the problem. Free from a desk in some skyscraper that father must tend from nine to five, such a family can select its country home hours away from the city. Ideal! But few are so fortunate. Most of us consider ourselves lucky to have that city job. It is to be treated with respect and for us the answer lies in locating just beyond those indefinite boundaries that limit the urban zone. With the larger cities, this may be as much as fifty miles from the business center; with smaller ones the gap can be bridged speedily by automobile. Going to live in the country, viewed dispassionately as an accountant's balance sheet, has attributes that can be recorded in black ink as well as those that require a robust crimson. If you really want a place where you need not be constantly rubbing elbows with the rest of the world; where you can cultivate something more ambitious than window boxes or an eight by ten pocket-handkerchief garden; where subways and street clatter can be forgotten; your black column will be far longer than the one in red. But if nothing feels so good to your foot as smooth unyielding pavements; if the multicolored electric sign of a moving picture palace is more entrancing than a vivid sunset; you are at heart a city bird, intended by temperament to nest behind walls of brick and steel. There is nothing you can do about it either. In the country the nights are so black; the birds at dawn too noisy; and Nature when she storms and scolds, is a fish-wife. Possibly you can learn to endure it all but will the game be worth the candle? Without true fondness for outdoors and an inner urge for a measure of seclusion, life in the country is drear. Don't attempt it. But for those who care for the cool damp of evening dew; the first robin of spring hopping pertly across the grass; or a quiet winter evening with a good book or a radio program of their own choosing rather than that of the people living across the hall; country life is worth every cent of its costs and these bear lightly. Along Fifth avenue, New York, not far from the Metropolitan Museum, is a typical town house. A man of means maintains it for social and business reasons. But he does not live there. His intimates know that only a few minutes after the last dinner guest has departed, his chauffeur will drive him some twenty miles to a much simpler abode on a secluded dirt road. Here, he really lives. Whistling tree toads replace the constant whir of buses and taxicabs. Most of us cannot be so extravagant. We are fortunate to have one home, either in the city or the country. Renting or buying it entails sacrifices, and maintaining it has its unexpected expenses that always come at the wrong time. What do those who live beyond the limits of cities and sophisticated villages gain by hanging their crane with the rabbits and woodchucks? First, country living is the answer to congestion. Even the most modest country cottage is more spacious than the average city apartment. Life in such a house may be simple but not cramped. There is light and air on all sides. This may seem unimportant but did you ever occupy an apartment where the windows opened on a court or were but a few feet from the brick wall of another warren for humans? If the sun reached your windows an hour or two a day, you were lucky. In a country house there is sunlight somewhere on pleasant days from morning to night. That difference can only be understood by those who have known both ways of living. In town, light and air cost money; along the rural postal routes it is as much a part of the scheme of things as summer insects or winter snows. And it may have a very definite bearing on the well being of all members of the family. Some suffer more than they realize from lack of sunlight. Frequently it is the children and, with many families, decision to move countryward is on their account. In fact, there be some, where father and mother, if they consulted their own preferences, would stay in a city apartment convenient to theatres and shops, with friends and acquaintances close at hand. But their small children lack robustness. The parents try everything, careful diet, adequate hours of sleep and all the other recommendations of scientific child rearing. Still the little arms and legs continue to be spindling. Tonics and cod liver oil fail to get rid of that pinched look, the concomitant of too little sunlight and too many hours indoors. In desperation such a family betakes itself to the country. The children weather tan. They respond to the more placid life and gradually gain the much sought after hardiness. Nature has been the physician without monthly bills for house or office treatments. The children are not the only ones who gain. Healthy adults renew their energy and crave activity. Here opportunity lies close at hand. It may be swinging a golf club or going fishing. It may be such unorganized methods of stretching muscles and increasing breathing as pushing a lawn mower, raking leaves or weeding the delphinium border. All these sports and homely out-of-door duties and pleasures are nearby, many of them just the other side of the front door. Those classed as sports may require a country club membership but even this is on a more modest scale. In fact, all potent are the economies made possible by leaving city or closely built suburb. House and land, either bought or rented, comes cheaper and is more ample. Along with this basic saving there are a number of others that help to leave something from the family income at the end of the year. Clothes last longer in the country and wardrobe requirements are simpler. Similarly, there is a distinct decrease in the money spent for amusements. When the nearest moving picture house is five miles away it is easy to stay at home. Going to the movies is not a matter of just running around the corner and so done automatically once or twice a week. Then there are such things as doctor's bills. While sickness, like taxes, visits every family no matter where it lives, we have found that we actually have less need of medical care living in the sticks than we did in town. Also the charges for competent care by both doctors and dentists are lower. For the family inclined to delve in the soil, a definite saving can be accomplished by tending a vegetable garden, raising small fruits and berries, and even maintaining a hen roost. Some people (I would I could honestly include myself) have a gift for making things grow and getting crops that are worth the work that has gone into them. Likewise there is such a thing as possessing a knack with that unresponsive and perverse creature, the hen. Possibly good gardening and an egg-producing hen-yard are the result of willingness to take infinite pains but, out of my disappointments and half successes, I am more inclined to hold that it is luck and predestination. So, I have reduced agricultural activities sharply, but I do know families where each fall finds cellar shelves groaning under cans of fruits and vegetables, products of the garden, and foretelling distinct economies in purchases of canned goods or fresh vegetables. One of the largest single savings that country life makes possible is elimination of private school tuition. Theoretically city public schools are good enough for anybody's children. Actually most good neighborhoods have an undesirable slum just around the corner and the public school is for the children of both. So, many city-dwelling families, not from snobbishness but because they do not want their young hopefuls to acquire slum manners and traits, dig deep into their bank accounts and send their children to private schools. Seldom is this necessary in the country, especially if the educational system is investigated beforehand. Instead, the children start in a good consolidated graded school, proceed through the local high school, and are prepared for college with all the cost of tuition included in the tax bill that must be paid anyway. The children are none the worse for this less guarded education. They are, in fact, benefited for they have a democratic background that makes later life easier. Besides these creature comforts and financial gains, there are the intangibles. Chief of these is that indescribable something, country peace. All the family responds to it. It is impossible to maintain the highly-keyed, nervous tension that characterizes city life when the domestic scene is surrounded by open fields or an occasional bit of woodland. The placid calm soothes frayed nerves and works wonders in restoring balance and perspective toward family and business problems. The harassed come to realize the inner truth of "God's in his heaven, all's right with the world." Along with this, the family transplanted from the city gradually comes to know the genuine joys of much simpler pleasures. Separated from the professional recreations that beckon so engagingly in cities and the larger towns, adults and children alike develop resources within themselves. They learn that they can be just as contented with homely enjoyments as they ever were when they sat passively and were amused by some one who made it his profession. A tramp through the woods in the fall when there is a tang of frost in the air; the satisfaction of a long-planned flower bed in full bloom; a winter evening with a log fire blazing on the living-room hearth; are simple but as genuine as any of the pleasures known to city folk. Better yet, they are not exhausting. "Few people are strong enough to enjoy their pleasures," a friend once wisely observed. In the main, however, those of the country are less taxing and leave one refreshed which, after all, is the true purpose of recreation. Against these gains of country living the costs must also be reckoned. These, as stated earlier, will hardly be felt if the individual really likes the country in its smiling moods as well as its frowning ones. One which the family recently separated from city ways may find hardest to accept is a demand for self-reliance. If the furnace will not burn, a water pipe springs a leak, a mid-winter blizzard deposits a snowdrift that all but blocks the front door, father or some one else must rise to the situation. The country home has no janitor. The nearest plumber is two or five miles away. No gang of snow shovelers knocks at the door with offers to attack the mislocated snow at a price, albeit the highest they think the traffic will bear. Pioneer-like, some or all of the family must turn to and cope with such situations. Doing so, whether temporary like closing a pipe valve to stop the cascading water until the plumber arrives, or permanent like mastering the idiosyncrasies of the furnace, has its reward. From oldest to youngest, after a year or so there comes a sense of ability to cope with the unforeseen rather than to stand meekly by waiting for George to do it. Again, it is not always smiling June with gentle breezes. There are also January, February and March, the months winter really settles to his task and delivers, as he will, snow storms, or spells of abnormally cold weather that make the house hard to heat and may freeze pipes. There are also rainy spells of two or three days' duration that come any time, spring, summer or fall. It is fun to be in the country when the sun shines. There are so many things to do and see out-of-doors. It is totally different when it rains and rains and still keeps on until everything outside is dripping and sodden. Then comes the testing time. Child or grown-up must accept such bad weather and make light of its restrictions, or country living is hard indeed. But did you ever put on boots and oilskins and go for a long walk in the rain just for the pure joy of it? Try it some time. You will see fields and bushes with different eyes and hear that most musical of all country sounds, the rush of tiny brooks in full flood. Even the birds have their rainy day manners and ways. [Illustration: THE OGDEN HOUSE, FAIRFIELD, CONN. BUILT BEFORE 1705, IT HAS BEEN RESTORED TO PRESERVE THE ORIGINAL DETAILS _Miss Mary Allis_] The most ardent country advocate, however, cannot deny that in some respects such a life has certain expenses not entered in the budget of families living in town. First and foremost, if father has his city job there is the monthly commutation book as well as the occasional railroad fares when other members of the family go to the city. There is no argument about it. These are added expenses but they are more than offset by reductions in the fixed charges. Also by selecting where you will live, transportation costs can be controlled. Expenditures incident to entertaining are another matter. One of the pleasantest things about living out-of-town is the week-end. From Friday night or Saturday noon until Monday morning the city is forgotten. Of course, part of the time, you will want to share these days with friends still cooped in apartments. Week-end guests vary the picture and are worth both the effort and money entertaining them involves. But don't think that will be all. No country-living family is safe from either friends or casual acquaintances in these days of motor cars. They will appear most unexpectedly and assume that you are as delighted to see them as they are to have you as an objective for a Sunday afternoon motor trip. At first it is flattering to have people come so far just to see you. Then the novelty of it wears a little thin and you begin to realize that frequently Monday morning finds the refrigerator swept bare. In time it will dawn on you that part of the up-keep of a country home revolves around feeding your self-invited guests. It would not be so bad if they would telephone ahead so that you could be prepared, but that is not one of the rules of the game. Instead, it is taken for granted that living in the country, you have a never-failing pantry. The solution lies in preparedness. From early spring until about Thanksgiving time, have in reserve some simple supplies for an acceptable afternoon tea or Sunday night supper. One household of my acquaintance always has large pitchers of milk, a supply of crackers, two or three kinds of cheese, a platter of sandwiches, home-made cake and a hot drink. As many as wish are welcome to come at the last moment for this standard Sunday night supper. Its simplicity has earned this repast a wide reputation and it is considered a great lark to go there. Incidentally, this truly rural supper is so inexpensive that it matters little how many are on hand Sunday evenings. Also the chore of washing dishes after the last guests have gone is reduced to lowest terms, likewise an item not to be overlooked. This trend toward country living, now so far flung as to be a characteristic of American life, is not just a fad. It has been a slow steady growth and has behind it a tradition of a century and more. When our larger commercial centers first began to change from villages to compact urban communities, there were those who found even these miniature cities far too congested. It was incomprehensible to them that a family should exist without land enough for such prime requisites as a cow, a hen-yard, and a vegetable garden. No family that really lived and properly enjoyed the pleasures of the table could be without them. Besides, epidemics of yellow fever came with summer as naturally as sleighing with winter. So for health and good living they began to move far into the country,--that is, three or four miles out of town,--and stage coach routes were established to transport the heads of such families to and from business either the year around or for the summer months. These stages or the private carriages of the more ostentatious were, of course, horse-drawn which limited the distance which could be traveled. The next step was the railroads. Hardly were they practical means of transportation that could be relied on day in and day out, before commutation tickets were offered for those hardy enough to endure daily trips of a dozen miles or more between home and office. Gradually the peaceful farming villages surrounding cities were transformed into something new to the American scene, the suburban town, but it remained impractical for most people to live farther from the station than a convenient walk. When electric car lines were added, the distance was extended materially and the farm lands just outside these suburban towns took on new value. Near car lines, they could be sold to those not primarily concerned with agriculture. The interurban electric roads also made many so-called abandoned farms in various parts of the country practical for families who wished to live farther from commercial centers either throughout the year or for the summer months, since they provided that great essential, a quick means of getting to shopping towns. Still great sections of back country, too far from railroads and electric car lines, remained strictly rural. Finally the automobile, made inexpensive enough for families of average income and provided with that great innovation, the self-starter, changed it all. This was not so very long ago. Approximately with the World War came the moderate-priced car that need not be cranked by hand. Driving it was no longer a sporting male occupation too often marred by broken arms and sprained wrists, the painful outcome of hand-cranking when the motor "back-fired." With the self-starter car driving went feminine. Mother, as well as father, could and did drive. It was now practical for automobile owning families to live farther from railroad stations and villages. Unnoticed at the time, a new sort of pioneering began. City-dwelling people turned hungry eyes toward the cheap country farmhouses located beyond limits of horse and carriage travel. By 1920, this trend was in full swing and greatly expedited by the program of highway improvement and rebuilding that spread across the country. With a quick and easy means of travel, good roads, telephone and electric service, farmhouses which but a few years before had been as isolated as when Horace Greeley was thundering, "Go West, young man, go West," were isolated no more. Prices rose but not beyond the purchasing power of those who sought escape from city congestion or the restrictions of fifty-foot suburban lots. The gasoline age had done it. It had married rural peace to rapid transportation. If you had to earn your living in the city, it was no longer required that you and your family live in its midst. A tranquil country home was yours if you would reach for it. SELECTING THE LOCATION [Illustration] _CHAPTER II_ SELECTING THE LOCATION It is to be questioned whether any city dwelling family suddenly determines to move to the country. Such changes in one's way of life are not decided as casually as trading in the old car for a model of the current year. Usually the decision to pioneer backward is reached so gradually that those who take the step can hardly tell in retrospect just when the die was cast. A vacation or summer in the country may have put it in mind. Then a period of vague indecision follows when city and country appear about equally attractive. Suddenly some chance happening turns the scale. A week-end invitation for cider making in the Hoosatonic Valley in early November would seem harmless enough, but from it dated our own determination to cease to be city dwellers. It must be admitted that the stage-setting was perfect. A twenty-mile ride on the evening of our arrival through the sharp clear air with a full harvest moon hanging high in the heavens, while along the way lights twinkled hospitably from the farmhouses that dotted the countryside. A bright crisp morning and a breakfast of sausages, griddle cakes and syrup. This would have been viewed with lack-luster eye in our overheated city apartment but was somehow just right in this fireplace heated country room with a tang of chill in the far corners. Later we were to find that plenty of November nights could be raw and stormy; that fireplaces could sulk and give out such grudging heat as to make the room wholly chill. But none of this appeared on that memorable week-end. It waxed warm enough at midday for all of the outdoor pleasures that the country affords. We were in congenial company and evening found us with a sense of peace and well-being that more than balanced the loss of a theatre or dinner party in town. We were guilty of the usual platitudes about "God's country and the normal way to live" and knew they were that but didn't care. However, there was no rushing around to get a place right across the way. A whole winter went by, pleasantly spent doing the usual things. Then came spring, a season that not even the city can wholly neutralize. There were a number of seemingly aimless Sunday trips beyond the urban fringe. There was considerable casual comment on various houses in attractive settings. One charming old place ideally located on a back road proved to be part of a water-shed reservation. Another equally charming plaster house was "too far out." As we admitted that, we realized that we had joined that not inconsiderable group who "want to have their cake and eat it too." That is, we really wanted a place in the country but we wanted it near enough so that the desk of the very necessary and important job could be reached without too much effort. Also the idea of an occasional evening in town was not to be dismissed lightly. Such humdrum items as railroad time tables were consulted. Having decided that the ideal location would be one in which the time required for train trip and motoring from house to station would come within an hour, we limited our search to that section just beyond the suburban fringe in Connecticut and Westchester County, New York. We had no clear idea of the type of house we wanted, save that it be old and of good lines. We looked with and without the aid of real estate dealers. We deluged our friends already living in the country with queries. We found a disheartening number of fine old houses, located just wrong. There was a splendid, two-story brick house with hall running through the middle. But it stood in the commercial section of a village, its door steps flush with the sidewalk, and was hemmed in on one side by a gas station. There was a neat little story-and-a-half stone house with picket fence, old-fashioned rose bushes, and beautiful shade trees. It had once been the parsonage of the neighboring church. Unhappily the old churchyard lay between. Now, we are not people who whistle determinedly when passing a marble orchard at midnight nor do we see white luminous shapes flitting among the tombstones. But daily gazing upon one's final resting place, we felt might, in time, prove depressing. Besides, we were by no means certain that our friends had developed the callous indifference of a young couple we heard of years later. Curiously free of inhibitions, these two people bought an attractive old farmhouse with a family burying lot located a fair distance from the house. The little plot with its eight or ten simple headstones was unobtrusive and rather gave an air of family roots deep in the soil, a quality all too rare in America. These young vandals could not let well enough alone. They uprooted the headstones and laid them end to end for a walk to their front door! They were considering the plot itself as a possible tennis court when outraged public opinion forced them to put the stones back. In fact, the general hostility was so marked that they finally abandoned the place and it was later sold at a distinct loss. But back to the little gray parsonage; its location and the fact that train service in its vicinity was poor, were the two deciding votes against it. Another attractive house in a good location was ruled out because our car got stuck in a spring hole practically in sight of it. A mile or so of dirt road to the station is no drawback, provided it is passable at all times of the year. This one was obviously poor, even in summer. Finally a real estate broker showed us a picture of a modest 18th century farm cottage. We visited the place one dreary sunless day in late March, investigated the neighborhood, determined the time required to drive to the nearest railroad station, and bought it, all in one week. In general, we are not sure that such haste is advisable. There were certain disadvantages that we did not observe; there were others where we turned a blind eye because we were infatuated with the place and determined to have it. Fortunately time has taken care of practically all of these. In short, we have come to believe that a place in the country is, like marriage, just what you make it. In both cases, though, one's emotions should be under control, so here are a few salient points for the searcher after a suitable location. First and foremost, decide on the sort of life you wish to lead. Then pick your location to fit it. If you are not chained to a city desk five days a week but at best make only one or two weekly trips there, a railroad journey of two or three hours is endurable especially when a highly attractive place lies at the end. For such a person, the radius in which to look for likely places is much extended and the farther out, the more advantageous the prices. But for one individual so fortunately situated, there are more than a hundred who must choose a place near enough for daily trips to the city. For the latter the ideal situation is, as stated before, an hour from house to office. That is the ideal but, in all honesty, we must admit that few attain it. The average country commuter is a born optimist on this point and will unblushingly distort facts in a manner to put the most ardent fisherman to shame. But figures don't lie. If the time table, say between Stamford, Connecticut, and the Grand Central, New York, gives its fastest running time as fifty minutes, it means exactly that. You may plan to hurtle through the air at sixty miles an hour to the station but traffic and road conditions will not always let you. Besides, what is the hurry? Allow twenty or thirty minutes instead of fifteen for a normal run of twelve miles and have peace of mind. That gives you an hour and ten or fifteen minutes between your house and the city. Add the time needed to get from the train to your office and you know what is before you. We mention this station trip of twelve miles as about the maximum for the hardy commuter although there are a few who take more punishment than that. Of course if the perfect place can be found only four to six miles from the station that is all the better. Transportation is an all important consideration both as regards time and expense. There are beautiful countrysides fairly near large centers that are so hampered by poor train service as to be almost out of the question for the everyday commuter. Of course, there may be an adequate service or it may be practical to drive to and from business. The latter is not at all uncommon with the country areas near the smaller industrial centers. Here the fortunate commuter is free from exacting train schedules; a five or ten minutes' drive sees him outside the city limits, and another twenty or thirty may find him rolling into his own driveway. Smooth sailing between office and home depend only on a reliable car and good roads. One should make sure the latter are passable in the winter at all times. For instance, are the Town Fathers liberal with the snow plow? Can its cheery hum be heard even at midnight if a heavy fall of snow makes it necessary? Does it come down the little dirt road where your modest acres are located? These are questions all commuters should ask whether their journey cityward is made entirely by automobile or partly by train. Further, whatever means of transportation are used, the monthly cost should be reckoned carefully. It is one of the largest single items involved in this scheme of living in the country and working in the city. There is also the question of food and other household supplies. Granted one no longer expects to run around the corner for a loaf of bread or a dozen eggs that may have been left off the morning shopping lists, just how far away is the nearest grocer? Is he at all receptive to the idea of making an occasional delivery in the outlying districts? How about the rubbish collector, if any; the milkman; the purveyors of ice, coal and wood? Are there a lighting system in the vicinity, telephone facilities, and so forth? These last need not be deciding factors, all other things being equal. They are simply matters to investigate. It is then for the family to decide whether to do without any or all of them if necessary. Besides in a wisely chosen location, these, though lacking at first, are soon added as the demand grows. When we began our own experiment in country living, it was with difficulty that we got even a telephone installed. Instead of electricity, our evenings were lighted by candles or kerosene lamps and our meals were cooked on an oil stove. Grocers and other tradesmen didn't even know how to get to the little area. Yet within three years enough other people like us had moved into the vicinity to warrant extension of electric service through the neighborhood, and a milk route, rubbish service, deliveries of laundry, food, ice, and other household needs were soon added. The Fuller brush man has for years known the way to our door and now even our Sunday newspapers are delivered, although we are six miles from the nearest news stand. This brings us to the question of neighborhood, which is important. Beware of a place too near a small factory settlement. The latter is apt to grow and destroy the peace you have come so far to get. Besides, your property value will decline in direct ratio. We once knew a charming place set high on a hill with neat hedges, shrubs, and arbors reminiscent of England, birthplace of the man who built and developed it. The family that bought the property forgot to look down at the foot of the hill. If they had, they would have seen a large and efficient looking factory and could have read the signs accordingly. The disadvantages of a country home located close to a hamlet inhabited by old native stock families that have degenerated should be weighed carefully. Such people resent what they consider unwarranted intrusion by newcomers and have many underhanded ways of expressing their antagonism. Of course, if these settlers are merely tenants and the region shows distinct signs that a number of city pioneers are about to buy property there, it may be a gamble worth taking, since one can always buy property cheaper before a boom than after it has set in. Also, these settlements are frequently located in the most beautiful sections of the country. Some of the houses are quaint farm cottages that only need a thorough cleaning and a little intelligent restoration to make them attractive homes for any one. Again, some of the most picturesque and desirable locations are off on by-roads. They are much to be preferred to property directly on the main highway since they are well away from the roar of traffic; and if there are children or pets, one need not be constantly on the alert to keep them from straying off the premises. However, half a mile off the main highway answers the purpose as well as a longer distance and one must be sure that half mile is passable at all times of the year. We have in mind one young couple who bought a place in Vermont. It stands well up on a hill and the view is worth going many miles to see. A picturesque dirt road winds a crooked mile up to it. Very attractive for summer but these two live there the year around. The snow drifts deep in winter, and early spring and late fall find the mud so deep that the average car bogs down hopelessly. Thus, they are virtual prisoners during these seasons. Of course that is an extreme case and even here the road can be made passable but only at heavy expense which must be borne principally by the householder. Lastly, in selecting the locality for your experiment in country living, if there are children consideration of schools is essential. The ratings and relative standings of graded and high schools in various localities, may be easily obtained through state educational authorities, college entrance boards, and similar organizations. But even where the rating report is good, personal investigation is advisable. Certain social elements enter in, despite the sound and democratic principles underlying the American public school system. For example, a would-be country dweller leased a house, with option to buy, in a very good neighborhood. House, location, and surroundings exactly pleased and it was a scant ten minutes from the station on a good road. The school system was well rated but the graded school for this section drew a majority of its pupils from a textile mill settlement two or three miles away. The children of the English spinners and weavers were decent, well-behaved youngsters but their speech was distinctly along cockney lines. Within a few months the three small sons of the new country dweller had developed habits of speech native to the English textile towns. Stern correction at home availed little and their parents abandoned the idea of buying in that locality. Instead, another was selected after personal inspection of the school to which the three boys would go. The new home is not, in some respects, as attractive as the other nor is it as convenient for commuting, but one cannot have everything. They are content and the small boys are once more expressing themselves with a New England accent. In inspecting both the graded and high schools of a neighborhood that pleases you, the obvious things are the buildings, school bus service, play space, provisions for school lunches and so forth. These are tangible and can be readily observed. Much more important are the intangibles. These include the scholastic standing of the particular school; the pedagogical ability and personality of the individual teachers; and, finally, whether those who manage village, borough, or town governments, provide adequate school appropriations. Schools that really educate children can be operated on starvation budgets but, more often than not, the quality of teaching suffers. Likewise the schools of a town reflect the capacity and ability of those in charge. To judge this, make it a point to meet the local school superintendent. If there is a parent-teachers association, a frank discussion with its leader is an excellent idea. From talks like these you can sometimes gather cogent information that neither superintendent nor member of the school association would or could put in writing. If possible observe the school while it is in session. The attitude of teachers and children should enable you to form an estimate of it as a whole. In determining the scholastic standing of a high school, its rating by college entrance boards, the success in college of recent graduates, and kindred data can be readily obtained and will tell a complete story. However, under present conditions, there are some excellent high schools which pay little or no attention to college preparation because relatively few pupils intend to enter college. If this condition prevails at the high school your children would normally attend and your plans for them include college or technical school, recognition of it is important. A year or two in a good private school that makes a specialty of college preparation is probably the answer. But don't wait until a son or daughter is nearly through the local high school to discover this lack of specific preparation. If, on the other hand, you do not intend to send your children to the schools where tuition is included in the tax bill, be just as careful in judging the private school. The term private means just what it says, it is open to children whose parents make private or separate payment for their education. This condition, however, is no guarantee that the quality of teaching will excel or even equal that of the free or public institution. The private ventures are not under as rigid supervision as those supported by tax revenues and we have known of instances where the former were distinctly below standard. With a private day school having relatively few pupils and a tuition revenue only slightly above the cost of operation, it requires considerable strength of character for its owner not to gloss over a pupil's shortcomings. If dealt with impartially, these might mean that darling Willie would be withdrawn and sent elsewhere. Loss of tuition is the nightmare of the head of such a school. Hence, fear of financial loss, dread of disagreeable interviews with parents, or misguided leniency can have a very bad effect on the education and training of the pupils. Yet there are small day schools and larger institutions with both day and resident pupils that give superior training. It is largely a matter of the attitude and capacity of the principal or head. If he or she is a real teacher and has good assistants, the children will be well taught, regardless of the physical plant. So, in choosing a private school, make sure the education it affords is worth the tuition father pays. Putting the children in a private school necessitates one thing more. That is transportation. Sometimes a private bus takes care of this matter. If not, mother must be tied to a daily schedule of driving the youngsters to and from school. This usually entails a second car. Here, as with other matters, the initial cost is by no means all; there is the up-keep. This should not be overlooked, for in the twelve years between the first grade and the last high school year, it becomes an increasing burden as school hours lengthen and athletic activities become, to the children at least, supremely important. SHOPPING FOR PROPERTY [Illustration] _CHAPTER III_ SHOPPING FOR PROPERTY The early American pioneer pushed into the wilderness looking for a likely spot to settle. When he had either found it or had traveled as far as he could, he staked out land and built a rude shelter for his family until such time as he could afford better. Today's pioneer decides whether he will have a house and five or more acres in commuting distance of the city, a farm several hours away from it, or a sporting estate. Then, still seated in an easy chair, he reaches for real estate advertising as found in newspaper, magazine or folder. For the first, nothing is better than newspaper classified advertising, particularly that found in the Sunday paper. If he would have a farm far from the madding crowd, there are the farm catalogues issued by a variety of real estate organizations. These can be most helpful if intelligently read. And the prospective buyer of a fancy farm or sporting estate will do best to turn to the advertising columns of those magazines where the editorial scope deals with that type of country life. [Illustration: AN OLD FARMHOUSE IN THE ROUGH _Photo by John Runyon_] Consulting such advertising for whatever kind of country home is wanted will give the prospective buyer some definite impressions. Of course he won't know what any of the places actually look like, though reading between the lines may give him some idea; but he will at least have gleaned a little information as to prices in a given locality and have the names of brokers with offerings that might be of interest. A decade ago, if one really wanted a country place one began looking at actual pieces of property at this point, either with or without a broker. During the past two or three years, however, a novel source of information regarding such property has come into being. It is somewhat of a cross between a news reel moving picture theatre and a real estate broker's office. There is a projection room, a small moving picture machine, and an extensive file of films of various properties that are on the market. Here the prospective buyer is shown shorts of all those listed with that particular clearing house. After the showing, if one or more places appeal sufficiently so that the prospect wants to visit them, he is given the broker's name and address. This saves much time and hours of travel for all concerned. In an hour or two spent so shopping, you can get first impressions of more places than you could possibly visit in a month of week-ends. Thus you can limit your selection of places to be visited. The cost of this novel method of showing property is met by an arrangement whereby seller and broker reward the picture house if the sale is consummated. When you actually begin to look at property, a few don'ts are in order if you would steer a fair course to the country home you have in mind. Don't expect any place to have all the requirements included in your mental picture. Don't buy a place that does not appeal to you. Each year you will like it less. Don't buy a bargain without finding out why it is below the prevailing price. Only too often it proves extremely expensive. Don't disparage a piece of property with the naive idea that by so doing the price will be lowered. You only arouse resentment on the part of the owner. Don't make a pest of yourself by too frequent visits to a place that attracts you. Don't try to eliminate the real estate broker. If he really knows his territory, his services are worth far more than his fee which is paid by the seller anyway. Don't lose your temper during the negotiations that must precede the terms of sale. You may lose the place that just suits you. Don't expect to buy property with wooden money. That custom went out shortly after 1929. If you can subscribe to these points, you are one of those who really want a country home and will eventually find one. Those who only think they do will stumble over some detail and then settle back with a plaintive, "We would love to move to the country if we could only find a place like yours." Castles in the air have everything, for imagination builds them; but those planted four square upon the earth always have certain "outs," even though you buy a perfect building site and put the house you have dreamed of thereon. Personally, we have always wanted a little gray house mellowed by the summers and winters of at least a century. What we bought was a small story-and-a-half farm cottage with outer walls of weathered shingles, painted red. It is old. During the Revolution, a British soldier was slain in the very doorway as he came out with loot from the upper rooms. It would undoubtedly be a haunted house in England but here our eyes are holden and we have never seen him, nor have any of our guests. We still admire gray stone houses of which there are plenty down in the Pennsylvania Dutch country but we are honestly suited with what we have. Its general outline is akin to the house we envisioned and the mellow tone of its red-shingled exterior has a charm of its own. True, the grounds are lacking in those little irregularities that enable one to develop secluded spots and charming rock gardens. No brook runs through them and there is no high point of land where one looks off to a brilliant summer sunset or hills blue with haze. It is just a pleasing peaceful spot and we like it. In short, have all the preconceived notions you want but keep an open mind as well as an open eye. We know of two or three families that are absolutely satisfied with their country homes, yet are perfectly frank in admitting that they are in no way the type of house or setting indicated by their preliminary specifications. They saw them in the course of their search and, despite the divergence, recognized that they met their demands. One of our friends had steadfastly insisted that his country house must sit on a hilltop where he could have a view, see the sun rise and set, and be cooled by a fine breeze on the most torrid day. He bought an entire farm just to get an upland pasture with the required hilltop. Luckily he called in an architect and was mercifully prevented from getting what he wanted. His house was finally built on a sightly but sheltered spot about halfway below the high point of his land. He has since learned that during the winter months the prevailing westerly winds so sweep that hilltop that heating a house placed there would be expensive and difficult. Also, these same winds would be apt to work havoc with his shrubbery and flower garden. On the contrary, don't let yourself be stampeded into buying something that definitely does not appeal, just because you are a little tired of looking but are bound to live in the country anyway. Real estate dealers and would-be helpful friends may have rallied around and, after showing you a score or more parcels of land, begin hinting that you are hard to please. Possibly, but just remember that your money purchases the place and that you, not they, will have to live there. Two people once spent years looking for a place within easy commuting distance of Philadelphia. Friends and brokers became exhausted and fell by the way. Word was passed around among the latter that these people were "just lookers and there was no use bothering with them." One day a broker, hoping to be rid of them, showed a piece of property so unsightly and generally run down that he thought no one could possibly want it. To his amazement, they liked it, saw its possibilities and, after proper investigation, bought for cash with never a quibble over the price. They showed rare intelligence in restoring both house and grounds and are living contentedly there today. Most of us, though, who really want a country home are of no mind to spend years looking for one. It may be that the lease on the city apartment is due to expire in a few months and one must decide whether it is to be renewed or not. There may be children in the family who are in urgent need of the fresh air and outdoor life of the country. Under such circumstances, it is often a real advantage to rent a place for a year with option to buy. One learns both the good and bad qualities of a house in that time at probably no greater cost than continued rental for a city establishment. Further, if you decide to buy it at the end of the year, the rental paid may apply on the purchase price. You can thus have plenty of time to look over other property in the vicinity. Perhaps it may be impossible to find a house that really pleases, but you do discover an ideal site. It may be a fine old orchard. It may be a tree-shaded spot with an old cellar marking the place where a house once stood. It may be an undeveloped hillside. In such an event, you have the advantage of either building a house to your liking, or finding an old one and moving it there. Be very sceptical about "bargains" in your search. Relatively few people underestimate the value of their possessions. Perhaps they are really willing to sell at a sacrifice "because father can't stand the cold winters any more" or "because we like to feel the place is in good hands." But it would seem more reasonable that father's declining years in Florida or California would be sweetened in direct ratio to the amount realized on his property. So look well for the real reason. The house may be unduly expensive to maintain. It may be so badly built that bigger and better repairs become a constant drain on the family purse. There may be something so wrong with the adjoining property that one must either buy that, too, or give up any idea of living on the spot with any comfort or pleasure. Back in 1928, a man bought a comparatively new house and eight acres of land for a sum far below the prevailing prices in the vicinity. The grounds were attractive and the lawn well shaded with fine old maples. He acquired this "bargain" in the late fall without benefit of real estate dealer. In fact, he boasted of his acumen to a broker who had originally shown him several other pieces of property in the section. "I told you there were cheaper places," he chortled, "and the owner gave me the advantage of the broker's commission, too. Come out next spring and see what a bargain I found." In late May there came a wail for help from the cocksure buyer. A few days of unseasonably warm weather and a strong east wind had revealed the reason for the bargain. Back of a wooded area to the rear of his holding, was a combination hog farm and refuse dump. The owner of it got little or no rental from the tenant farmer who carried on his noisome business but he was well aware of its nuisance value to his new neighbor. Here indeed was a situation requiring the services of that middle man, the real estate broker. The latter was a good business man and by using all his guile, he eventually acquired the hog farm for his client at a fair price. But even at that, the man now had ten additional acres that he didn't want and couldn't use. When the cost of the added land and clearing it of refuse had been met, his place was not the bargain it had seemed originally. This does not mean that there are never any country places to be had at real bargains. It is a case of being keen enough or lucky enough to locate one. There can be a number of legitimate reasons why a piece of property is on the market at a price below its general worth. There may be urgent financial reasons why the owner must sell. In this unhappy situation he cannot be too firm as to price and will usually accept a sum actually below the market value in order to salvage a fair proportion of what he may have invested. Another type of bargain is that of property that has only recently become available for country homes through the construction of a new motor highway or some other major development. For example, the electrification of the Pennsylvania Railroad and a concrete automobile road from Trenton, New Jersey, into Bucks County, Pennsylvania, have brought old farms in and around Doylestown, Pennsylvania, within an hour and a half of New York City. This condition has not existed long and Bucks County farms on an acreage basis may still be bought distinctly cheaper than in practically any other section equi-distant in travel time from New York. Again, some particular place may be owned by an estate with a number of heirs who want their money. None of them feels inclined to take over the property and pay off the others. All are in a hurry to get their share of what Uncle Henry left. Eventually the property goes at a partition sale which is the bargain basement of real estate. Partition sales and heirs hungry for ready money are keenly watched by those who buy purely for investment and with the expectation of resale to some one wanting a country home. Hence the ultimate consumer rarely benefits. But occasionally the regular investor finds the matter of resale neither as simple nor as rapid as he had expected. For some years we watched a charming little place that a real estate investor had acquired at such a partition sale. It was first offered "in the rough." Then the abandoned household gear and accumulated trash were removed. With growing nervousness the investor applied a coat of paint to the house and hung neat painted shutters at the windows. He tore down dilapidated outbuildings and converted the barn into a garage. The place still hung unplucked on his commercial tree. After three dismal years he parted with it at a price but little above that paid at the partition sale. It was a desirable property but the investor had been over greedy and had put his original asking price far too high. By the time he was chastened enough to listen to reasonable offers, most of the prospective buyers had crossed that place off their list. The ultimate purchaser acquired a real bargain by happening along at the psychological moment when the investor was sick of his deal and ready to part with it at little or no profit. This was, of course, very much a matter of luck. It is also a matter of luck when buyer and seller deal directly with each other to mutual advantage. For that reason it is poor economy to try dispensing with the services of a real estate broker. A reliable one is an invaluable guide, mentor, and friend to the lamb fresh from the city. Let him know what you want and what you are willing to pay and he will do his best to find it. If a place interests you, look it over well but don't insist on so many showings that you wear out the patience of its occupants. Never, never belittle any property in the hearing of its owner. There are all too many people, cocksure but ignorant of human nature, who believe this helps to get a bargain. It works just the opposite. One would not expect to please a man by telling him that his son was wall-eyed and therefore no asset. The same man is no better pleased at hearing that his house is ugly or that the interior is something to shudder at. The prospective buyer who admits he covets the house but cannot quite meet the purchase price is much more apt to get the benefit of easier terms. Real estate buying is still a dicker business. Get your own idea of values and then make an offer--to the broker. It is part of his job to negotiate this difference between asking and actual purchasing price. Theoretically buyer and seller should be able to meet and discuss the little matter of price in sensible and friendly fashion. Actually, there is usually as much need of a diplomat here as between two nations. One very successful broker recently admitted that he tries to keep buyer and seller apart as much as possible when negotiating the details of price, terms, concessions and the like. He stated that it is amazing how ordinarily sensible people, in the heat of a dicker over a piece of property, can get at a practical deadlock over the disposal of a cord of wood or whether a cupboard, worth possibly five dollars, is to be left with the house or removed. So keep your temper, especially when it is a question of property you really want. We have known people who were turned aside from an ideal place for which they had hunted months, because the seller failed to fall in with some totally unimportant detail or because they didn't like something his lawyer said or the way he said it. Sellers may be cantankerous and their lawyers exasperating, but remember, you do not inherit them along with the property. Once the latter has been acquired, which is your real objective, they pass out of the picture along with your irritation at them. In buying any property, however, make sure that the title is clear. The author of the old hymn, "When I can read my title clear to mansions in the skies," must have been familiar with the complications attendant on acquiring earthly domiciles. In other words, if the place on which you have set your heart is suffering from that obscure complaint known as a "cloudy title," it is something to be let alone unless the seller can clear it. By this term is meant that somewhere in the chain of ownership from the original land grant, some seller could not give a clear, warranted title. There are many contributing causes for such a condition, particularly with country property in the older sections where wills and deeds were not always drawn with clarity and skill. Old second or third mortgages, presumably paid, for which satisfactions were never recorded; tax liens that have not been cleared; or possible interests of minority heirs under a will dating back a generation or more; are some of the most common causes for imperfect titles. But if one is patient and the seller is willing to cooperate, such clouds can usually be removed. Sometimes one discovers a desirable piece of property with a cloudy title due to a family feud or the stubbornness of the present owner. Here it may be to the buyer's advantage to obtain an option on it and engage a local lawyer experienced in real estate matters to perfect the title. For example, two spinster sisters lived in their father's old farmhouse. They were not at all averse to selling, but under the terms of their father's will, a niece in a state institution for the feeble minded held a life interest in the place. Her aunts grimly refused to sell and hand over the sum representing her interest to her guardian. "Alice has cost us plenty and never been anything but a source of worry. Not a dollar more of our money goes to her as long as we live. She is in an institution where she belongs. Besides, her father was a rascal." They were willing to sell at a price several thousand dollars less than like places in the neighborhood were bringing. So a prospective buyer negotiated an arrangement whereby he acquired an option to buy the property at this low price, provided he could make a settlement for the niece's contingent interest at his own expense. It took about six months but at last a settlement was reached through the courts. For about five hundred dollars paid to the guardian of the incompetent woman and an equal amount in court and lawyer's fees, he obtained a quit claim deed of her interest that satisfied the requirements of the corporation that was to insure the validity of the title. The day after the purchase was consummated, the new owner was offered a price for the property that would have given him a substantial profit above his investment and expenses, had he cared to sell. Under such circumstances, however, the buyer should be sure the property is a good enough investment to be worth so much time and trouble and he should never embark on such an undertaking without the best possible legal advice. Most important of all, his contract to buy should be so drawn that ample time is allowed for the work of perfecting the title. There should also be a provision allowing him to withdraw from the contract and to regain his option money, if clearing the title proves impossible or there is too great expense. Another detail that should be taken into account, especially with land once used for farming, is the possibility of old, half forgotten rights of way. In the legal argot, a right of way is a permission to cross property that has road frontage to reach fields, pasturage, wood lots, or the like which are otherwise without means of access. To be binding, of course, such agreements must have been recorded. Where they date back half a century and have been forgotten and unused for many years, lawyers are sometimes careless in their title search and overlook them. This is a serious omission since they can suddenly be revived to the discomfort of a totally innocent buyer. Some years ago a man bought a simple farmhouse as a summer home. One spring he discovered that a neighbor had acquired a cow and, night and morning, was driving it across his lawn and flower garden. At his indignant protests, the neighbor sarcastically pointed out an old gateway in the stone wall dividing their property and cited an agreement almost a century old that provided for a right of way for cattle across what was now lawn and flower garden. Of course reviving this right was a case of pure spite and eventually there was a law suit. The man with the cow came to terms, his own of course, and for a cash consideration relinquished his cow driving rights. Meanwhile the owner of the property had been put to some expense and plenty of annoyance. With the final decision to buy a piece of property financial details come to the fore. An "all cash basis" is not uncommon these days and often brings a sizable reduction in the asking price. Where a mortgage is desired, fifty per cent of the purchase price must be cash for house and land, or the entire amount on unimproved land. With the latter, the mortgage lender will expect you to provide at least half of the total cost of the land and the proposed house. Gone are the days when country homes could be bought with first and second mortgages and very little cash. This type of financing was tried and found wanting during the late depression, since it led many people to commit themselves to payments they could not continue if reverses were experienced. There are various kinds of first mortgages now being used to assist in financing the purchase of a country home. One of the oldest is the purchase money type. This is given the seller as part of the total price paid by the buyer. Formerly such mortgages were for a short term, three or five years, and payable in full at the end of that period. Now some of them are for longer periods and provide for monthly amortization charges by which the mortgage is paid in full by the end of the time specified. The Federal Housing Administration mortgages, which are a recent New Deal endeavor to make funds for home buying or building safe and stable, are issued by local banks with the payment of interest and principle guaranteed to the bank through the operation of this government controlled agency. These mortgages are amortized over periods of ten, fifteen, and twenty years and the borrower must make specified monthly payments that include taxes, interest charges, and amortization. They are not available in all sections because some local banks hold that they conflict in details with other banking regulations. So far as the borrower is concerned, these mortgages are no different from any other similar method of financing. If payments are not made regularly and promptly, foreclosure proceedings will be started. Large insurance companies or savings and loan associations also issue fifteen to twenty year first mortgages, amortized over the period by monthly, quarterly, or semi-annual payments. The interest rate varies from five to five and a half per cent. If such a mortgage is arranged for a new house, architect's plans and specifications must be submitted with the application for loan. The site must be free and clear of all mortgages or other obligations. Your own financial rating is looked up by the lender and, if satisfactory, the company issues a commitment that you can take to your local bank where definite amounts are paid as the work progresses; so much when exterior walls are complete; such a proportion when rough piping for plumbing has been installed; another amount when all lath and plaster has been finished; and so on until the final payment when the house is finished. Then the formal mortgage is executed and recorded. There are brokers who specialize in negotiating such mortgages. Their fee is about two per cent. So much for the usual channels of financing. In addition, the buyer can still make his own mortgage arrangements with some investor who has money to loan if he knows such a person. Further, although second mortgages should be avoided if possible, they are sometimes issued where a buyer is considered a good risk but lacks sufficient capital to meet the fifty per cent cash requirement that prevails today. Such loans are not usually made for over twenty per cent of the appraised value and generally call for a higher rate of interest, six per cent. They are also apt to be for a short term, two or three years, when they must be paid in full. With both first and second mortgages, the lenders will inquire carefully into the financial responsibility of the would-be borrower. They will want to know exactly how much of his own ready money he plans to use in the transaction. This is to be sure that he has a substantial equity in the property and will not be struggling under too great a financial burden. Having perfected the method for financing your purchase, now comes the formal contract to buy. This is an agreement whereby you undertake to consummate the purchase at a future date, generally thirty to sixty days, at the agreed price. On executing such a contract, _which should be reviewed by your lawyer before you, as buyer, sign it_, expect to pay the seller through the broker ten per cent of the total purchase price. This is done on signing the contract. The time between signing this contract and the date set for the title closing is employed for title search and insurance, land survey and similar details. If the title proves imperfect so that you cannot complete the purchase, your check is returned to you. As for the cost of title insurance, the corporations issuing such policies have an established scale of prices. These vary slightly in different parts of the country. Title policies have generally replaced the old independent title search by lawyers that had no elements of insurance. Where a company has already searched and insured the title, reissue of the policy is made to you at about half the original fee. The cost of surveying property is based on the amount of work involved. For surveying five acres of what was formerly farm land and that has never had its borders so measured and defined, the average charge today is from one hundred to one hundred and twenty-five dollars. Special conditions may raise or lower this. An established surveyor who knows the locality is, of course, the best person to undertake such work. His previous surveys of other adjacent properties can often enable him to locate and identify old boundary marks that some one not conversant with the locality might find baffling. Much country property is very vaguely described by old deeds. "Fifty acres more or less bounded on the east by the highway, northerly by land owned by Jones, westerly to that of or recently owned by Smith, and southerly by that of Brown," illustrates roughly an old title description. You may get forty-five or fifty-five acres, and it is up to you to establish just what fences and so forth are your actual boundaries. A surveyor reduces all this to exact measurements and puts definite markers at the corners and wherever else the party lines change direction. When finished, he provides you with a certified copy of his survey in map form, giving distances and indicating location of his monuments. These are usually either iron stakes driven two or three feet into the ground or concrete posts about two inches square set in the ground and plainly visible. It is illegal to move such marks. With title clear and the survey completed, everything is ready for the title closing, as lawyers call the time when title to the property passes from seller to buyer. The latter's lawyer should have investigated and passed on all steps prior to this and adjusted any minor details with the seller's lawyer. The buyer and his lawyer and the seller and his lawyer should all be present at a title closing. The paid tax bills for the current year are first presented and any minor adjustments made. Then the buyer presents a certified check or actual cash for the amount he has agreed to pay. He also has a small amount of money on hand to meet any adjustments such as taxes, insurance, and the like. Lastly, the deed, which has been carefully reviewed by the buyer's lawyer, is signed by the seller and, for better or worse, you have become a country property owner. CALL IN AN ARCHITECT [Illustration] _CHAPTER IV_ CALL IN AN ARCHITECT The prospective country dweller is now owner of a piece of property and his ideas are probably fairly definite as to how his home is going to look when his family is actually living there. But seldom is it a simple matter of gathering the household goods into a moving van, having them set down in the new place, and then going out on the terrace to watch the sunset while deft workers within set things to rights. There may be no house at all on his new holding, much less a terrace. At the time of purchase, an old mill, barn or other combination of walls and roof may stand in place of his imaginary home. Even a house in good condition usually needs a little renovation. During the negotiations for purchase, his lawyer kept him from legal pitfalls. Just as important now in bridging the gap between what he has and what he wants is an architect. If he has been consulted before purchase, so much the better. If not, it is high time to seek him out unless one happens to be a genius like Thomas Jefferson who could draft a Declaration of Independence with one hand and design a serpentine wall with the other. Such a person has no need of this book anyway and will long since have cast it aside. Most of us are just average citizens with some ideas which we want to put into concrete form but find difficult because we are either inarticulate or untrained. That is what various specialists are for, and it is a wise man who realizes his own limitations. A sugar broker may have ideas about a portrait but he won't try to paint it himself. He will commission a portrait painter, in whom he has confidence, to make a likeness of his wife or child as the case may be. Even more necessary are the services of an architect when building or remodeling a house. Trying to be your own architect is as foolish as drawing a sketch of little Jerry on canvas and then calling in a house painter to smear on a daub of blue for his coat, a bit of yellow for his hair, white for his collar, and just anything for the background. At worst, though, this futuristic result can be taken to the attic, turned face to the wall and forgotten; but a botched house won't let you forget. You have to live in it along with your mistakes, day after day and, possibly, year after year. When and if you finally call in an architect and have them remedied or obviated, the cost will be considerably in excess of what his total fee would have been in the beginning. So, find the best man practicing in the vicinity where your future home is to be located and cast your burdens on his drafting board. Give him ample information as to what suits your fancy and conforms to your family needs. Then he can proceed with the preliminary sketches. From these eventually will come the plan of action to be followed by the various artisans who will do the work. But house plans, whether for new construction, remodeling or renovating, do not spring from the drafting board complete and final overnight. They are based on more preliminary effort than most people without building experience realize. This is particularly true of the country home. In cities and suburbs, building plots are more or less standardized units in a checker-board with two controlling factors, so many feet of street frontage and such and such depth. Local building ordinances sharply limit the type and size of structure. The country offers much greater latitude. Such matters as topography, location of existing trees, and points of the compass with relation to the main rooms of the house play important roles. We well remember a dismal example of what can happen when these controlling factors are ignored. The owner was an opinionated man with a passion for economy. House building was to him no mystery. It was just foundations, side walls, roof, stairways, interior partitions and, of course, plumbing, heating and so forth. His house was "going to cost just so much and people who paid architects' fees for plans had more money than brains." Besides, he had seen a sketch and floor plans of a house in a magazine that were good enough for him. He knew a builder who could follow them and what more did one need? [Illustration: A REALLY EARLY AMERICAN INTERIOR. THE GREAT FIREPLACE OF THE WAYSIDE INN, SUDBURY, MASS. _Henry Ford_] The little matter of relating the structure to the site concerned him not at all, nor did it enter his head that a house could face anywhere except towards the road. As for the contractor, it was not for him to reason why, but to build. So they went to work and a house entirely made up of good things done in the wrong way was the result. An outcropping of rock meant expensive blasting, so the magazine-pictured house was set firmly down almost on the roots of a fine row of old pine trees by the roadside. Through these the wind howled mournfully at night and by day their shade made the main rooms of the ground floor distinctly gloomy. It was an ambitious house and the leaded glass windows of the living room faced north. So keeping its temperature at a comfortable point in winter was an added difficulty. The sunny southwestern exposure, being at the back, was given over to kitchen and servants' quarters. Lastly, the one pleasing prospect, a friendly little valley with a meandering brook, could only be seen to advantage from the garage. The architect's fee had been saved but when, a little later, the owner wanted to sell, it took several years to find a buyer and then only at a price of half the money invested. The new owner consulted an architect with a gift for rearranging and so succeeded in mitigating the worst features and in taking advantage of the cheerful aspects inherent with the site. Like a good doctor or lawyer, an able architect can usually get you out of trouble; but the ancient slogan, "An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure," fits admirably here. Do not, however, engage an architect as lightly as you would select a cravat. To him you are intrusting the task of putting your chaotic and half-expressed thoughts and desires into a set of plans that will guide and control masons, carpenters, plumbers, electricians, and painters in their work. As your professional adviser, it will be his job to bridge the gap between the date of purchase and the happy occasion when your household goods are deposited in a home embodying your ideas and wishes. Obviously he must be in sympathy with those ideas. If you are building a new house on old lines or remodeling an existing structure with a century or more to its credit, don't select a man to advise you who can see nothing but the newest and most modernistic types of architecture. Don't be afraid to ask for evidences of past performances. Since no architect discards his plans and renderings, he will be glad to show you a few of them. Also in this initial conference, names of clients for whom he has executed commissions within the fairly recent past may be mentioned. It is sensible to consult two or three of these. If he has pleased them, he is probably fitted to undertake your problems. For solving them and knowing how to get desired results, you will pay him a fee that ranges from six to ten per cent of the total cost of the work undertaken. For special cases that involve unusual work, it may be slightly higher. The amount of the fee, as well as the dates at which portions of it become payable, will be settled in your initial interview. There are occasional men, however, calling themselves architects who are not qualified. They have no degree from a recognized school; cannot qualify for registration in states where architects, like doctors, lawyers, teachers and other professional people, must have a state license to practice. Like other charlatans, such men are glib talkers but it takes real ability and thorough training to prepare practical plans and specifications. Here is where the dabster betrays himself. A little independent investigation may prevent you from putting your building problems into the hands of such an incompetent man. The need of an architect where a new house is to be built or an old one completely remodeled is obvious. We are convinced that the same holds true where only minor changes, replacements and the introduction of modern conveniences are the program. Our own little country home is an example. The necessary alterations were so simple that it seemed ridiculous to ask architectural advice. There was nothing to the job but to install plumbing, move one partition, patch the plastering, and close chimney and other pipe openings cut in the days when stoves, rather than fireplaces, furnished heat. We engaged a good local man who, with his crew of four or five helpers, was accustomed to doing everything from carpentry to plumbing. His labor charges were on a per diem basis and considerably under the union scale that then prevailed. Nothing was left indefinite. We understood exactly how the work was to be done and what materials we were to supply. In due time it was finished and we moved in. Two or three years later, we discovered some serious shortcomings. For instance, the kitchen sink was hung in the wrong place and, because it was easier, all of the water pipes were placed on outside walls. This made no difference when the house was occupied only during the summer months but during the first winter we became experts in thawing pipes that "caught" whenever the temperature dropped to zero. There was another economy that proved quite the opposite even before the work was finished. We had agreed that wherever the old lath and plaster were in bad condition, they were to be removed and replaced with a paper wall board then being widely advertised as an inexpensive substitute. But we had reckoned without the idiosyncrasies of an 18th century house. When the old lath and plaster had been cleared away, our handyman contractor discovered that the old beams and uprights were spaced at eighteen-inch intervals, while our new wall board came in widths conforming to the sixteen-inch spacing that has been standard with American house construction for a century. It was too late to return the wall board so new nailing strips, sixteen inches apart, had to be installed. This took time and when the so-called inexpensive substitute was finally in place, the total cost actually exceeded that of the more satisfactory lath and plaster. Further, because nobody was at hand to prevent it, we lost a good partition of feather-edge boarding. It was between two of the bedrooms, concealed beneath several layers of wallpaper. When stripped, two or three cracks were found through which one could look from one room to the other. These could have been filled with wooden shims but the workmen did not stop to think of that. They ripped it out and put in a tight and modest partition of that ultra-modern wall board. It was well done mechanically and is still in place, but we mourn that original paneling of native white wood and continually keep an eye out for some like it. Eventually, when all the mistakes of ignorance and lack of supervision have been corrected, we will have spent several times the total of the architect's fee. So we are out of pocket and, except for relocating the water piping, we are still looking at and repenting most of the results of our false economy. Thus, an architect is all-important with a house problem whether it involves a minor or major undertaking and it is logical to ask exactly what he does for his fee. Consider, for instance, his functions and services when a new house is to be built. As a beginning, owner and architect meet, inspect the site, while the architect, like any good diagnostician, asks questions. These deal with the type of house the owner thinks he wants, the number of rooms, baths, and so forth and, finally, the amount of money he is prepared to spend. He offers few opinions of his own at this interview but rather tries to read his client's mind so that preliminary sketches and plans will approximate that mental picture. A few days later, tentative sketches of a house designed to suit the location are submitted. Out of them grow the revised ones. It is highly improbable that his initial suggestions will suit you in every detail. It takes time and interchange of ideas before this can be accomplished. When they reach the stage where they represent the house you want, the architect prepares a complete set of working drawings, including floor plans and side wall elevations. These are drawn on a scale of one quarter of an inch to the foot. As soon as the drawings are finished, he drafts the specifications or bill of particulars as to materials to be used in the construction of the house. These with the plans form the basis on which contractors may submit bids for the work. First, however, owner and architect should go over this material together. Making changes after the contracts are let and the work begun is both expensive and foolish. If you find it difficult to visualize an actual house from the drawings, a model made from wall board or similar material is a wise precaution. Fashioned on the same scale of one quarter of an inch to the foot, it is your proposed house in the little, and on seeing it no doubts are left. Windows and doors are all in their proper places. The exterior is painted to match the color and simulate the material that is to be used. Finally, the model can be taken apart so that you can study the interior of bedroom and living room floors. Such models, of course, are not included in the architect's fee but the cost of one for an average house is under $100. If you can visualize your proposed home thoroughly by it, the expense is well warranted. The architect can be of great service in the matter of contractor's bids. He knows the past performances of those operating in the vicinity where you propose building and can suggest the men or firms whose work is most satisfactory. From four to eight general contractors, that is, individuals or firms competent to undertake the complete building operation, ought to be invited to submit sealed bids. Each is supplied with a complete set of plans and specifications by the architect and given from ten days to two weeks in which to submit their bids. In addition to the total price for the work, these bids, by common custom, give the names of the chief sub-contractors such as plumber, electrician and the like, with the amount of money allocated for the work of each. On a set day, usually a Saturday afternoon, owner and architect meet, open the bids, and compare the offers made by the various contractors. Most of them include alternate provisions on condition that they be allowed to substitute materials or methods of construction not according to the specifications. The contractor who submits the lowest bid would logically be the one selected but here again the architect's judgment is valuable. First, he can rapidly determine whether the provisional saving suggested by substitution of unspecified materials is a wise change. Second, he knows whether the bidder under consideration is dependable or inclined to skimp in hidden but essential points. There is, also, the possible chance that none of the bids submitted come within the sum the owner is prepared to spend. Then comes the task of revising plans and specifications and eliminating non-essentials to bring costs within the set figure. From practical experience, however, architects have found that, if the proposed house is just what the owner wants, he will somehow find the additional money rather than have plans or details changed. After a contractor whose bid and quality of work are satisfactory has been selected, the architect, acting for the owner, lets the contract to him. This includes provisions for partial payments at stated periods as the work progresses; so much when the masonry is completed; another amount when the exterior walls are finished; and so on, including plumbing, heating, plastering and electrical wiring. With each payment, fifteen per cent of the total is held back and does not become due until the entire work has been finished. This is a standard practice and is intended to insure completion of the contract to the satisfaction of both owner and architect. Under this provision, the architect certifies to the owner each month that certain work has been done and that the contractor is entitled to so much money for it. From the day that construction starts, the architect begins his work of supervision. At least twice a week he goes to the site and observes the progress of the work and how it is being done. Special conditions may arise where the contractor or his foreman call hurriedly for the architect, such as uncovering a large boulder at one corner of the excavation for the cellar. There may be a fine point to be decided regarding the location of piping or some detailed instruction concerning the installation of the interior woodwork. On these occasions it saves time for everybody if the architect or one of his associates is readily available. Watching the cellar excavation for unexpected subsurface water is also an item that no experienced architect neglects. He sees to it that concrete for foundations is mixed properly and has the specified percentage of cement. The installation of piping for plumbing and heating is supervised carefully, as is the work of plastering. As the house nears completion, his supervision increases in direct ratio. In fact, during the last two or three weeks, the architect is not infrequently there most of the time. The last details of the interior trim are being completed, decorating is under way, and lighting fixtures are being installed. All of these require direct supervision and the architect expects to be on hand. These final details can make or mar the general effect more than is realized. When your house is finished to the architect's satisfaction, he gives his final approval and thirty days thereafter the final bill of the contractor is payable. This period is to allow for minor adjustments, such as windows that stick, doors that will not latch and the like, the small things that always need to be done with any new house and are generally attended to after the owner and his family have taken possession. Just as the general contractor is paid in installments, the architect's fee is likewise liquidated. There is a standard schedule which provides that one-fifth of the estimated fee shall be paid on completion of satisfactory preliminary sketches; two-fifths when the plans and specifications are finished or on letting the contract for actual building. The balance is paid monthly in proportion to the amounts paid the contractor. When a house is to be remodeled, the architect proceeds in much the same way. He presents suggested sketches of the ways in which the desired changes can be accomplished. When these are satisfactory, working drawings are prepared that show what is to be removed and what new construction undertaken. The working drawings are, of course, accompanied by a set of specifications, and contractors are invited to submit bids for doing the work. On letting the contract, work proceeds about as with that of building a new house. There are, however, more opportunities for unforeseen contingencies and so the architect often has to devote more of his time to supervision. Sometimes, if the particular remodeling project is one requiring unusual care, the percentage of his fee is a little higher by special arrangement. Where a house requires minor changes that qualify merely as renovation, the architect's work is, of course, much simpler. Extensive preliminary sketches are unnecessary, and complete floor and elevation plans not required. But architectural investigation, planning and supervision, as stated before, are highly desirable if not essential. His fee is usually the same ten per cent as applies for new construction. There is less actual plan drafting but the amount of supervision is so much in excess of that required for new construction that such a charge is by no means unreasonable. Besides, the owner has the assurance that all changes and new installations will be done properly with no glaring errors of judgment to mock him as he settles down to life in his country home. BUILDING VERSUS REMODELING [Illustration] _CHAPTER V_ BUILDING VERSUS REMODELING "Shall I build or remodel?" is a question with so many facets that it would be foolhardy to try to answer it categorically. Circumstances alter cases in all phases of life and particularly so when one is endeavoring to decide whether the country home is to be a new structure, or an old one remodeled to make the best use of its desirable features and suit the requirements of its new owner. One of our acquaintances was hung on the horns of this dilemma for several months while he and his wife spent most of their waking hours arguing it pro and con. They had selected the vicinity in which they wanted to live, had the requisite cash in the bank to finance either undertaking, and there were two properties that pleased them. The latter constituted the snag. On the one hand, there was a sightly piece of land with some nice old shade trees but no existing structure; about a mile farther along the same road, lay another holding of about the same size with a house in fair condition. The price for this was naturally higher than for the undeveloped land, on the theory that it would not cost half as much to remodel the house as to build. "I don't know what to do," this perplexed man remarked. "On one side I hear and read that new building is much the best investment. That it costs so much less to maintain a new house and if you want to sell, you can find a purchaser quicker and at a better price. But no sooner do I begin to believe that building is the only wise course, than I run smack into an article on remodeling or meet some one I know whose experience in remodeling shows by actual figures a big saving compared with a new house of the same kind and size. In my own case, though, the more I study what estimates I can get, the more I am convinced that in the end I'll spend just about as much whether I build or remodel." These two people finally built a new house. There were good reasons for their decision. First, they could buy the land for so much money, and a general contractor of excellent reputation was ready to build just the house they wanted for so much more. The two figures, plus the architect's fee, added up to a definite amount. Having an accounting mind, the knowledge that there would be no unforeseen contingencies and that, ready for occupancy, the cost of the house would be so much, was the deciding factor. In addition, he and his wife both inclined towards something new. A house that had not been lived in by other people, had no scars and marks of age and use, that embodied all the newest materials and construction methods, was really what they wanted. Had remodeling offered them an assured saving of several thousand dollars, this couple would probably have suppressed their subconscious leanings to be builders, proceeded to remodel, and been only moderately pleased with the result. The answer to the age-old question of whether to build or to remodel is found in the preference of the individual. Some people are temperamentally builders. They are happiest living in a home that was constructed for them. In their eyes it possesses far greater charm than anything that has been mellowed by years of use. There are others to whom nothing is more satisfying than to take an existing structure and alter it to their liking and needs. An elderly acquaintance, now a widow and living in a sleepy New England village, is taking keen pleasure in an old house of almost doll-like proportions. "All my life," she said, "I've wanted to live in a really old house but until now it has always been one new house or city apartment after another and I never got my roots down." Granted that building or remodeling, like cheese, is a matter of personal preference, it is not improper at this point to set forth some of the merits of both. With a fine old building, there is that elusive something called charm. Time has mellowed it and the countless feet that have crossed its threshold have worn its floors. The blackened bricks or stones of its fireplaces bespeak the generations that basked in the heat of the huge logs that once glowed there. All these things have given it character. [Illustration: ONCE HALF A HOUSE AND A HEN ROOST _Photo by Whitney_] [Illustration: WHAT CAN BE DONE WITH A BARN _Photo by Samuel H. Gottscho_. _Robertson Ward, architect_] Don't expect a new house, the day it is turned over to you by the contractor, to look as if it had been a family home for several generations. It can't. It has just been built. Everything is fresh and shiny; edges are sharp and even the bricks of the fireplace are untainted by flame and smoke. But if you have been even moderately articulate, the architect has been able to interpret your wishes and you have a house built as near as possible to your plans. You also have the satisfaction of knowing that, in the building, the workmanship has been honest and thorough, and that in materials used every advantage has been taken of the newest developments. For instance, behind the plaster is the modern metal lath so superior to the old wooden variety. The exterior walls are as thoroughly insulated against heat and cold as any one of several highly efficient materials can make them; windows and doors are products of large wood-fabricating factories noted for superior work. All these are points of advantage with tangible merit, but time and your own efforts are the only means by which your new home can acquire personality and charm. This new structure is yours, made to your desires; and what you make of it is your own problem. The house that you buy and remodel starts with certain attributes given by age, as already stated. Here we must offer one caution. It concerns houses built during the last quarter of the 19th century. The majority were badly designed and the quality of workmanship was none too good. Such houses are apt to be perched on high foundations, have exterior walls that offer the minimum resistance to winter winds, while architecturally, lines and proportions reflect an age when taste was either bad or lacking. We know of several attempts to remodel country homes of such vintage and are convinced that better results could have been achieved for less money if the operation had started with wrecking the structure and building anew. On the contrary, except where decayed beyond salvage, we have yet to see a country home of the 18th or first half of the 19th century that did not respond admirably to remodeling. But it is well to be practical and compare its cost with that of a new building. Among architects, it is generally recognized that, save for a house with unusually expensive details or added equipment, definite figures per cubic foot of size may be computed that will cover the entire cost of construction. To get the cubical contents of a house, the architect takes the area in square feet of the ground floor and multiplies it by the height from the cellar floor to the eaves, plus half the distance from that point to the ridge of the roof. For example, if the proposed house is thirty feet wide by twenty feet deep, its floor plan area is 600 square feet. Then, if the elevation dimensions are seven feet from cellar floor to living room floor; eight feet from living room floor to that of the bedroom floor; and seven feet from bedroom floor to the level of the eaves, which in turn measure eight feet below the ridge of the roof; the cubical contents would result from multiplying 600 square feet by the sum of seven, eight, seven, and four, or 15,600 cubic feet. With this figure established, it is simple to approximate costs as follows: Wooden construction $0.45 per cubic foot Brick veneer construction 0.55 " " " Solid brick construction 0.65 " " " Field stone construction 0.60 " " " Cut stone construction $0.75 to 1.50 " " " This tabulation, an average for the United States as a whole, is as accurate as any generalization can be and a safe one for forming a preliminary estimate, but local conditions may increase or decrease costs. The architect can readily determine which. This table, of course, does not include cost of land, construction of driveway, landscaping, or expenses incident to bringing electric service or telephone wires to the house. From these calculations, it is an easy matter to take the outside dimensions of a house you are considering remodeling and compute its cubical content. Then you can ask your architect whether it can be remodeled as you wish for a price competitive with building a new house of like design and equal size. In order for this to mean anything, you should determine what proportion of the price paid for the property represents land value and what reflects the existence of the structure itself. As a simple example, we will concede that land in the neighborhood is held at $500 an acre and you can buy a five-acre tract with a house on it for $3,750. Here $2,500 represents land value, and $1,250 house value. The question resolves itself into comparing remodeling costs plus house value with those for a new house of like size and kind. If so much must be replaced or rearranged that the figures for house and remodeling are in excess of those for a new structure, the wise course would be to abandon the idea and build instead. But the old house may have certain details that make you willing to bear the added expense. If so, you at least know the comparative costs and have definite standards by which to shape your course. From personal observation, we believe that there are many instances where the total cost of house and rejuvenation is considerably below that of a new structure. Since confession stories are just as fascinating in home building as in the lurid fiction of the woodpulp magazines, we cite the experience of a family that bought a home nearly two years ago within the New York commuting zone. They were a larger family than the average and the house, of desired size, had once been a stagecoach halfway tavern. It contained twenty-two rooms and was in better than average condition. The exterior had been given two coats of white paint less than six months before. The price for this old place, including twenty-two acres of land and a barn usable for garage and chicken house, was $8,200. According to actual record, only $2,798 was spent on remodeling. There were almost no structural changes required. Two minor partitions were removed and five new windows cut. Otherwise, this expenditure was largely devoted to the introduction of plumbing, heating, and lighting. By type of work, the costs for this remodeling were as follows: Two bathrooms, each complete with shower; a kitchen sink and laundry tub $590.00 Heating system, including steam boiler, piping and 25 radiators, totaling 630 feet of radiation 889.00 Water system, cleaning well, installing pump and 500 gallon storage tank 218.00 Electric wiring entirely of armored cable and lighting fixtures 306.00 Sewage system complete with septic tank and disposal fields 230.00 All carpentry, including necessary work for plumber, electrician, etc. 160.00 Masonry, including repairs to fireplaces and chimneys 105.00 Decorations, paint, and paper for twelve rooms 150.00 Architectural supervision, plans where needed and preliminary inspection of several houses 150.00 Total $2,798.00 These are the actual figures for a livable and attractive country home. There are, of course, some things that await a future time for their accomplishment, but what place would be really enjoyable if there were not certain corrections and additions over which the owners could daydream and plan. We admit the figures just quoted are so low as to seem hardly credible, but they demonstrate what could be accomplished within fifty miles of New York during the summer of 1935. The contributing causes for this happy result were that these people knew what they wanted, hunted in a section that had not been too thoroughly combed by others like themselves and, lastly, happened to be ready to buy at just the right moment when the man who owned the property was anxious to sell. But old country residences, including structures built as taverns, private schools and the like, are not the only type of buildings that may be remodeled into acceptable homes. We have seen old barns or stables, disused sawmills, general stores, old stone buildings that once housed small industrial enterprises, and even a church of the Neo-Classic period remodeled with distinct success. Again, in Massachusetts there is a former textile hamlet. The mill itself is now a community club and the workmen's cottages, built about 1815-20, are homes for a dozen or more families where, daily, the head of the house motors to his office in an industrial city about a half-hour away. These story-and-a-half cottages, executed along simple Federal lines, are owned by the families who occupy them. They look out on a street lined with fine old elms and at the end is the stone mill with its belfry where still hangs the bell that once ruled the lives of spinners and weavers with its clanking iron tongue, morning, noon and night. For picturesqueness, if the unconventional has a greater appeal than the more standardized type of home, remodeling an old barn into a country home has its advantages. This is particularly so if one can find either a capacious one of roughly laid ledge stone, once popular in parts of New Jersey and Pennsylvania and more rarely built in other sections, or a large hay barn with hand-hewn framework and side walls of weathered boarding. It takes only a little imagination to visualize such a building remodeled into a country home with a generous stone chimney and fireplace occupying one of the end walls of a former haymow. Invariably such remodeling includes construction of one or more wings to house dining room, kitchen, and servants' quarters as well as additional bedrooms and baths. The actual barn structure seldom lends itself to more than a living room and possibly two bedrooms. In summer this type of country home has much to offer. It is light, airy, and spacious; but when fall begins to indicate its arrival, unless the structure has been made nearer weather tight than is the nature of barns, life in the haymow is chill and sour. For use the year around, the old barn must be completely rebuilt with a cellar beneath for a heating plant and side walls and undersides of roof well covered with insulating material to prevent cold from entering or heat escaping. One of the most successful methods of treating the front, where once the old barn doors swung wide to admit a fully loaded haywagon, is to substitute a many-paned window of almost cathedral proportions. This lets in adequate light for what might otherwise be a dark interior. In summer it can be screened to keep out flies and mosquitoes. Through it on fair winter days, especially if it faces south or west, pours that most valuable attribute of country living, bright sunlight. An old water-power sawmill makes an unusually attractive country home. We know of at least one so adapted. Here the space once given over to sawing logs into boards has been completely enclosed and is now the living room. On one side is a noble fireplace flanked by large casement windows that look out on the old mill pond. Bedrooms and service quarters are located in the end sections where lumber used to be seasoned and other special work done. This unique bit of remodeling, combined with the pond as a main feature of landscape development, is both rare and enviable. Yet there are a surprising number of old commercial structures that lend themselves to remodeling into present day homes and by their very unconventionality take on added charm. In New England there is a substantial stone building of no architectural pretensions except that width, depth, and height are distinctly related to each other. It is now a country home but it began as a small textile mill in the early days of the 19th century when the industrial revolution was just getting under way. Later, when the factory era became thoroughly established, this lone little mill was left high and dry by the tide that swept toward the larger centers and it stood untenanted for years. Finally it was retrieved by some one with vision enough to see that, with proper partitions, both ground and second floors could be divided into satisfactory rooms. Here the new owner, or his architect, had the discretion to preserve as much as possible of the past. The old mill owner's counting room, on the lower floor, is now the library and, in almost untouched condition, is complete even to the cast-iron stove that once warmed it. Converting buildings originally designed for other uses may take a still different course. A house, too small in itself for present day use, can form the nucleus of a country home. A most attractive place in Maine was so assembled. There were two or three other buildings on the property which were shifted from their original locations by jacks and rollers and skillfully joined to the little house to form wings. By clever rearrangement of rooms and shifting or removal of partitions, the assembled group became large enough for the new owner's uses. Even a modern structure, designed originally for some branch of agriculture, can be converted into an excellent house if an architect is inclined to undertake the necessary contriving of plans and builders can be found who will follow his directions. Several years ago, a man was bitten with the urge to raise chickens according to the latest scientific methods of artificial lighting and forced feeding. For this he built a substantial structure with steam heat, electric lights, and other elaborate provisions. Being nurse maid to thousands of chicks ranging from a week old to the proper size for broiling was a strenuous job. Further, the creatures developed all sorts of maladies not provided for in the book and the mortality was so high that the project was finally abandoned. The building stood vacant for some months until it came to the notice of a resourceful young architect. He measured, sketched, and drew plans. Now, what was once a factory for the raw material of broiled chicken is an attractive and compact Cape Cod cottage. Because of site and accessibility, the original building had to be dismembered and moved about two hundred feet. When re-erected according to the plans provided, the result bore little resemblance to the original box-like structure except that the floor space was the same. Some country homes begin as week-end retreats. Then the habit of being in the country two or three days grows on the family until they see no reason for living in the city except for an occasional overnight ordeal with a stuffy hotel room. To make the average week-end shack a permanent home calls for material expansion. Double-deck bunks have been installed to provide adequate sleeping quarters; and for a limited time they find it fun to cook, eat, and live in one large room. But, when the house is used seven days a week, such condensation is anything but practical. So the establishment must be enlarged. This can be done with ease, especially if the original plans were drawn with such a change in mind. That is, the original structure now becomes the living room, while new wings and additions provide the much needed space for service quarters and conventional bedrooms and baths. But the week-end place is not always built particularly for the purpose. Many times it is a very small farmhouse acquired cheaply and made usable at a minimum of time and money. When the decision is reached to convert it into a home of larger proportions, whether one realizes it or not, the plan of campaign follows the plan of no less a person than George Washington. Mount Vernon was not always a mansion but was the result of consistent enlargement. When Washington inherited it from his half-brother, Lawrence, it was a story-and-a-half hunting lodge of eight rooms. Then he married Martha Custis, richest widow in the Virginia colony; and, to have a home suitable for her, he had the roof raised and the house made full two stories. Shortly before the outbreak of the American Revolution, he planned two wings. The first was that at the south end with library on the ground floor and master bedroom for Colonel and Mrs. Washington on the second. As the revolt against the British crown progressed, the construction of the north wing lagged somewhat but was worked on intermittently. This, the banquet hall, when finished became one of the noblest private residence rooms in America. Washington, however, did not leave these steps in the enlargement and renovation of his erstwhile hunting lodge entirely to professionals. Whether away fighting in the French and Indian Wars or directing the course of action of the Continental Army, he never forgot what was happening at his country seat. His correspondence is full of minute directions regarding the finishing of certain rooms or of such injunctions as, "I beg of you to hasten Lamphire about the addition to the north end of the house; otherwise you will have it open, I fear, in the cold and wet weather." When the Revolution was fought and won, the Washingtons returned, not to a Mount Vernon that was a stranger to them, but to the country home they had so carefully planned. This specific planning by the owner, now as then, has definite bearing on whether the house will be yours or just a beautiful structure, perfect in all its appointments but totally lacking the impress of the owner or his family. Several years ago, a man and his wife acquired one of the early Dutch farmhouses of the New Jersey back country. They had long wanted just such a place and having taken possession, they summoned an architect, an interior decorator, and a landscape architect. A few days were spent with them inspecting house and grounds. Then the new owners left on a winter cruise around the world. Their final injunctions were to the effect that next May they would return and would expect everything done. They did and everything was complete. The old house was perfect. Its furnishings were all genuine antiques of the period. The grounds had been graded, trimmed, and polished. Gardens, shrubbery, and hedges were just right, but the final effect was as impersonal as a demonstration model. In a year or two, this property was sold to a golf club and its former owner bought another place and moved right in. Nearly two years were spent consulting and working with an architect and workmen, supervising a garden or two, and in buying antiques, a piece at a time. His second attempt at country living was not as sophisticated nor did it approach the museum standards of the former; but, when completed, it had that prime essential of any home, it reflected the character and personality of its owners. LOOKING AN OLD HOUSE IN THE MOUTH [Illustration] _CHAPTER VI_ LOOKING AN OLD HOUSE IN THE MOUTH Buying an old house is a good deal like selecting a horse. Having found an animal of the desired type and breed, the question arises, "Is it sound of wind and limb?" Houses nearing or past the century mark also have their spavins and these should be recognized by the prospective buyer. He can thus form some estimate of how extensive replacements are needed, even on first inspection. This is of prime importance since it has direct bearing on the worth of the house. Whether built of stone, brick, or wood, such structures may have rafters, sills, and main beams so decayed that new ones must be added. The foundation may need rebuilding and door and window frames may be so weathered that they also must be replaced. Beware of a house where floors slope and side walls are out of plumb. This means extensive shoring which is slow and expensive. For a truly pessimistic report on the health of an old place turn to a trusted carpenter or contractor. He congenitally dislikes old buildings and will point out all defects with ominous head shakings and subtle suggestions for new building. In this way the prospective buyer will know the worst, painted at its blackest. Somewhere between it and the rosy view of the real estate agent will lie the truth. Therefore, it is well to do some inspecting independently. Knowledge of what are the weak spots in old houses and where to look for them will save much time and effort in the initial stages of house hunting. The skeleton of an old house is akin to that of a modern steel structure. Hand-hewn timbers, morticed and pinned together, take the place of riveted steel beams. Since a timber frame is subject to rot, either dry or damp, one of the first places to look for unsoundness is the sills (the beams which rest on the foundation and into which are set floor joists, corner posts, and other main uprights). It is a simple matter to give them the jack-knife test at intervals of two or three feet. Stick the blade in as far as possible. Then try to turn it around. With a sound beam this cannot be done. If there is dry rot, the beam will often crumble under a slight pressure of the fingers. Go over the sills on the north side of the building first. Here there is less sunlight and snow remains longer. Consequently decay from excessive moisture is not unusual. Roof rafters and plate beams (the long timbers on which the lower ends of the rafters rest) should also be knife-tested since long neglected leaking roofs eventually result in their decay. Unsound corner posts and other uprights connecting sills and plate beams are harder to detect since they are concealed between the outside boarding and interior plaster. Note the walls themselves and the corner boards extending vertically from foundation to eaves. If a corner of the house is enough out of plumb to be visible to the eye, or if the corner boards are loose, examine further as it may indicate decay beneath. With brick or stone houses, the walls themselves carry the weight of the roof and so have no vertical timbers. If the walls are out of plumb it means that the foundations are either gone or are in need of major repair. Whether a house is of brick, stone or wood, there is one further place for knife testing--the ground floor joists. Cellar dampness may have taken its toll. The fact that a sill, joist or other timber is unsound does not mean that the house is beyond repair. Many old houses with all their sills gone and some other principal beams no longer serviceable have been restored, but the necessity of such steps ought to be realized in advance and the cost taken into consideration. It is far from pleasant to discover that one has unwittingly bought the bill of expense this type of replacement means. "Let the buyer beware" generally rules in the selling of old places, and the purchase of a knife and an hour or two of poking its point into the principal timbers may save time and money later. "The next time I buy an old house to put a new frame into, you'll know it," was the heartfelt declaration of a man who left his knife at home when he went house hunting. "The owner and the agent knew the sills and beams were rotten but didn't think it necessary to mention the fact. What I didn't see wouldn't hurt me until after I had bought the place and begun repairs. Then I learned plenty about decayed timbers and the cost of replacing them." After the timber frame, consider the exterior. The foundation will probably need some "pointing-up," that is, replacement of mortar in the joints or cracks. The question is, how much? Will it have to be a complete job? Has frost worked such havoc that some sections must be re-laid? If the cellar indicates standing water during heavy rains, drainage must be provided. Notice whether any cellar windows have been closed. Countrymen are prone to do this as a cheap and easy method when the framework gets beyond repair. Replacing stoned-up windows is not expensive or difficult but just one more thing which must be done. Notice the extent of the cellar. Old builders sometimes did only a partial job of excavation because of economy. Such a cellar was ample for storing root crops, preserves, and hard cider in the days before furnaces. It may be wise to complete the work of excavating. Do not expect to find cellars under wings and sheds. It was never the practice. If they are to be converted to uses for which excavation is desirable, this is another item for the adding machine. With the foundation and its needed repairs noted, begin appraising the condition of the walls and roof. Sometimes a shingle roof will be found in good order or at most have one or two minor leaks which can be repaired. More often an entire new roof is needed and, in extreme cases, new boarding beneath. As with sills, roofs sloping to the north and east are more apt to be out of repair and for the same reasons. If door and window frames are so loose that they can be lifted out of the side walls, the situation is serious. Putty and paint are of no avail. Rebuilding them is essential. It is extravagant business trying to heat a house with wind whistling in around doors and windows. If the fabric of the side walls is of shingle, clapboard, or other types of wood, is the material sound enough to warrant repainting or must it be renewed? The object of paint is to close the small cracks and preserve the wood. An old house that has gone many years without painting will absorb much more than a new one, but it is surprising what can be accomplished with two or three coats of paint on siding so weathered as to seem worthless. Besides, a new exterior robs an old house of some of its charm, so preserve the old if possible, architects, carpenters, and contractors to the contrary. Where walls are of stone or brick, the mortar of the joints has probably so disintegrated under wind and rain that repointing is indicated. Also, frosts may have heaved individual stones or disintegrated bricks so they must be reset. Expect this in places where down-spouts have leaked for years. If the walls have settled badly, lintels or sills of doors and window openings may be cracked and need renewing. Sometimes an old house has exterior walls of plaster. These are both picturesque and rare. Patch cracks and spots where it has come loose from the lath. Old plaster has a texture and patina that modern stucco cannot simulate, so preserve it if possible. Indoors, there are many things to be observed and appraised but fireplaces come first. A country home without facilities for open fires is as uninviting as one without trees and flowers. Expect to find the fireplaces disused and closed with fireboards or bricks. Sometimes the mantels have been removed and new flooring laid over the hearthstones. Some detective work around the logical locations will tell whether fireplaces have been torn out or just concealed. If mantels are missing, look for them in the attic or on the rafters of a shed. More than one fine old mantel has been rescued from such a hiding place. We know of one fireplace complete with crane and iron cooking utensils that reposed for fifty years or more behind an unsuspected opening covered with lath and plaster. Where original fireplaces have been torn out and chimneys intended only to serve stoves put in place, two courses are open. The more costly is rebuilding chimney and fireplaces according to indications of original dimensions. The alternative is a Franklin stove, a combination of stove and fireplace, which can be installed and connected to the existing chimney at a very moderate expense. Incidentally, the chimneys of an old house should be examined carefully. Built in the days before separate flues and flue tiles, their mortar may have lost its binding strength and so a smoke test is advisable. Close all fireplaces except one and start a lively fire in it. When it is well under way, toss on some scraps of roofing paper. Then cover the top of the chimney. If there are any fissures in the chimney, your eyes and nose will leave you in no doubt. You cannot mistake the pungent odor of burning tar and its bluish smoke is easy to see. Trace these to the points where they leak from the chimney and mark the spots. Complete examination will tell whether repointing will suffice or whether rebuilding is necessary. The condition of the plaster on walls and ceilings of rooms can be easily appraised. It is reasonable to expect cracks and that some of it will be so loose as to need replacing. Removing it all and starting afresh, however, is only advisable where a house has reached about the last stages of disrepair. Partitions of even the simplest feather-board paneling should be preserved as well as interior trim, doors, and flooring. The same applies to old hardware, as a house with all original wrought-iron hinges, latches, and locks is both rare and valuable. Notice whether the floors are of old wide boards laid random width and held in place by wrought-iron nails. In houses antedating 1800, the floors in certain localities were of hardwood. Sometimes several varieties were used indiscriminately. With all their irregularities, they become a very pleasing feature when well scrubbed and oiled or waxed. Like fireplaces, they are sometimes concealed but it is an easy matter to remove the new flooring. The soundness and safety of stairways can only be determined by direct inspection. If treads move beneath the feet, additional nailing is needed and possibly new supports. Step easily on those leading to the cellar. They are often somewhat rotten and may collapse. If window glass is of the old, wavy, off-color sort, full of the bubbles, sand pits, and creases that characterized its production in early days, make sure that such panes are not discarded. Workmen view them with complete scorn and will cast them aside if not put under stern injunctions. "I never found that it kept out the cold any better than a good new piece," snorted one disgustedly when we suggested that he putty a fine "bull's eye" pane with a slight crack. Sometimes part of the interior trim will have been replaced by modern substitutes, but a good carpenter working under an architect can match that still remaining. Likewise, later additions not in keeping with the original, such as porches, sheds, wings, and illogical partitions, can be readily removed with little damage to the house itself. As one goes about an old house it is well to be on the look out for signs of vermin, both animal and insect. With the former, traps and prepared bait will suffice. The latter require the services of an exterminator or some one skilled in the use of hydrocyanic acid gas. Such insects go deep into the cracks of woodwork and beams. Ordinary fumigating will not eradicate them. A single session with this deadly gas, however, will rid the house both of these pests and their eggs. The things that may be the matter with an old house, as enumerated here, may sound very forbidding but circumstances alter cases. It is doubtful if any one structure will be afflicted with all these ills of decay and neglect. In our own house hunting we saw many that were sound enough so that, with the addition of modern conveniences and a good cleaning, they were livable. In fact, there is nothing equal to getting thoroughly acquainted with a house before radical changes are made. Live in the place six months or a year and then you will know better just what alterations or additions are wise. In northern New England there is a delightful country home that has been renovated with great skill and charm. The reason behind it is that the owners went for many years with as few repairs as possible. Then came a large and unexpected inheritance. There was money enough to rebuild completely but relatively few major changes were made. "Most of the expenditure was for restorations," the owner stated. "Once we day-dreamed of all kinds of changes but when the time came we knew most of them were impractical and would add neither to our comfort nor our convenience." The most important thing about any house is, does it please you architecturally and is its general plan suited to your needs? If it seems to be well enough preserved so that renovation appears to be practical, turn to an architect with the understanding that, if you buy, he will be retained. He will then be willing to give the house an expert inspection and even submit tentative sketches of advantageous changes. His report, if the venture is to be financially good, should indicate that structurally the house is about one-half sound and usable. Of course if you have found a house dating from the 17th or 18th century, you have something fairly rare and it is worth reclaiming even though very extensive replacements are needed. In Fairfield, Connecticut, for example, there is the Ogden House, built before 1710. Its present owner paid $4,000 for it in what seemed to be ruinous condition. Its renovation cost fully $12,000; but finished, this old salt box house is so unusual that more than one buyer is ready and waiting to pay double the amount spent. Arrangement of the rooms of an old house, and how they will fit the requirements of the prospective purchaser, should be given more than passing thought. Most people when they begin looking at places have large ideas about moving partitions, cutting new windows, and changing the location of doorways. These can be done but they are relatively expensive and if carried to excess rob the place of all character. Even the simplest of old houses has definite balance in its design and arrangement of rooms. So think well before tearing out partitions indiscriminately or moving doorways and cutting windows. In fact, if some old house seems to you to call for drastic reconstruction, you would do better to let it alone and look for one that more nearly fits your mental picture. Buying a house you do not really like is as foolish as marrying with the same reservation. Some hardy people go through life so mated but more get a divorce. So it will be with the house. After a season of dislike, divorce by sale will be the end. If it pleases you from the start, however, you and it will develop a mutual affection as the years go by and it will become the old home in more ways than one. NEW SITES FOR OLD HOUSES [Illustration] _CHAPTER VII_ NEW SITES FOR OLD HOUSES Substantial houses built by old craftsmen who knew how to achieve beauty by restraint lined the straggling single street of a forgotten farming town. Despite weatherbeaten clapboards and sagging roofs, the fine ornamental detail of doorways and window frames assured similar niceties within. "What good are they," snorted practical grandfather. "If they were where people had adequate incomes it would be different. But here! Once this was a prosperous town. Men made money breeding merino sheep. Now the town's dead and its houses falling apart. Better tear them down to save taxes." Twenty-five years ago many substantial old houses were doomed to die with their towns. Today, people who want an old house but cannot find it where they wish to live have learned that it is practical, financially and otherwise, to transplant an old structure to a new location. Once this was the sport of eccentric millionaires or of amply endowed museums. Now it is done for people of average incomes. The expense will about equal that of building a new house of the same cubical content and architectural detail. Sometimes it can be accomplished at a slight saving. But whether the cost is equal, a little higher, or somewhat less, the great advantages of a transplanted house are a certain mellowness of age and that charm of individuality which only old structures possess. For those who want an old house on a site of their own choosing, there are now men who deal in old buildings ready for removal. Just as pickers comb the back-country for antiques, a related group search for untenanted old houses. These men are a cross between practical builders and antique dealers. They know Early American domestic architecture and experience has taught them the point beyond which salvage is impossible. Also they are experts in dismembering such houses so they can be re-erected. Tearing down an old house is easy enough, but to do it so that it can be rebuilt is a trade in itself. From removing paneling and interior trim to taking apart the hewn timber frame requires care and understanding. Too much brute strength will split boards that should be saved. Similarly, it is disastrous if mortice and tenon joints are sawed apart. Such are the short cuts of ignorance to be expected of ordinary carpenters and handy men. And when the old house is on the ground they will display exasperating unconcern regarding what goes where and how to put the structure back together. The most complicated jig-saw puzzle is simplicity itself compared with an Early American house taken apart without predetermined marking and numbering. Having learned this by bitter experience, these experts have evolved marking systems that prevent confusion and follow them rigidly. Likewise, since old house lumber when taken apart and stored warps and splits so badly that it can only be used again with difficulty, they leave their houses standing wherever possible until sold. They are far from impressive in this state and it takes both imagination and enthusiasm to inspect the assortment offered. Usually the roof and possibly one or two of the sides will be covered with prosaic roofing paper. The doors and windows will be securely boarded with coarse lumber. The depredations of nature lovers who uproot shrubbery and rend such flowering trees as dogwood are as nothing when an amateur antiquarian finds an early 18th century house unoccupied. Such enthusiasts steal and wreck like Huns. Nothing is safe from them. Door knockers, H and L hinges, fireplace cranes, wavy old window glass, whole sections of paneling and even hearthstones are wrenched from place with light-hearted abandon. What they don't make away with, they generally ruin. One visit from such a relic hunter may leave an old house a shambles. How otherwise upright people with a modicum of interest in antiques will glory in looting old houses is truly remarkable. We knew one whose pride was a collection of fireplace cranes so filched. Knowing this, the old house dealer, immediately he has bought a structure, makes it as weather-tight and marauder-proof as possible. Sagging floors and weak stairways are braced, as are fireplaces injured by dampness and frosts. Paneled partitions are stripped of layers of disguising wall paper. Any efforts to modernize that hide original conditions are torn out and the house cleared of the rubbish left by its last tenant. Even then such a house is not overly attractive to particular housekeepers. To offset this, the old house dealer first shows one or more albums of pictures of the houses he has for sale. These contain complete snap-shots inside and out, together with plans and dimensions. If he is wise, he also has simple typed statements, giving all the data he has been able to gather concerning each house, approximately when it was built, its connection with local historical events, and, if possible, the names of prominent personages who dwelt in it or were guests there. Knowing that buyers are much impressed by such facts, he often makes a careful search of recorded deeds and books of local history for those few interesting facts that he may use advantageously. For instance, to be able to say that Lafayette, on his extensive old-age visit to the United States, was entertained in a house may be just the right romantic touch that will close the deal. With such an old house, the dealer generally quotes a price for it dismembered and ready to be moved to its new site. Since the cost of transportation varies with the distance, the trucking charge is customarily given as a separate item. In general, the dealer will undertake delivery at a lower figure than any one else. Also, such a dealer or an associated contractor will set a sum at which he will re-erect the structure on the new site. Since he is accustomed to working with old materials and knows just what problems he faces, his price will be lower than the combination of the cost of the old house and the price set for its rebuilding by a contractor unfamiliar with such work. The latter, to protect himself from unforeseen contingencies, must naturally add a proportionately large sum to his estimated cost. The exact cost of an old house re-erected on a new site cannot be given offhand. There are too many elements to be considered. How extensive are the changes, how many baths, what type of heating system, are only a few. All are important factors that must be determined before the final figure can be set. So, the prospective buyer must have patience and understanding. Also, he should have his architect prepare plans for the work with just as much thoroughness as if it were a new building. To the layman it may all seem very complicated but to an architect who knows his old houses, it is no more difficult than new work. He begins by making a careful set of measured drawings of the old house as it stands. He examines the fabric to determine what sills, beams and other parts are unsound and must be replaced. He takes as many photographs of details of the construction, both inside and out, as seem expedient and labels the prints explicitly so that they relate directly to his plans. Later, when rebuilding is under way these snap-shots will refresh his memory and make it easier to explain some special feature or unique construction to workmen who never saw the house before. Dismembering houses for re-erection is accomplished by two methods. The more common is taking them apart board by board and timber by timber, marking each piece by a system of numbers and colors so that it can be returned to its proper place. The other is called "flaking." Here roof, side walls, and partitions are cut into large panels and numbered and marked in colors. At the new site they are put in place much as a portable bungalow is assembled. With either method, plans prepared by the architect are of prime importance. One set of his blue prints is thoroughly annotated with numbers and colored marks. This becomes the working key, the solution to the rebuilding puzzle. Also, the plans serve as the basis for rearrangement of rooms, shifting of partitions, and the introduction of plumbing, heating, and electricity. Invariably an old house has one or more tucked-up rooms that under present-day conditions can wisely be eliminated and the space added to adjoining ones. A favorite arrangement with old New England farmhouses was the parlor bedroom, located, as the name indicates, on the ground floor and connected by a doorway with that room of ceremony and funerals. Although it was often little larger than a double bed, it was the master bedroom of the period. Our ideas have changed and such a room can wisely be eliminated. Again, there is the problem of space for baths and closets. The former were, of course, unknown and the latter woefully few when the house was young. Thus, with the bedroom floor, architect and owner have before them a problem demanding skillful contriving to devise locations for these two essentials. When dismembering starts, the man doing it and the building contractor, unless by a happy circumstance he is one and the same person, must work together closely. The first thing is to remove doors, window sash, and as much of the interior trim as possible, along with all the hardware. Numbered and marked, these are stored in some dry shed or barn. If feasible, they can best be left at the old site until the reconstruction has progressed far enough so that they may be put in place when delivered. All fireplaces are now examined carefully to determine the exact angles of sides and backs. The individual stones must also be numbered and keyed. Paint is applied, that will not rub off as the stones are removed. Now everything is ready for the dramatic tearing apart. With flaking, the roof and walls are marked off in great squares related to the timber framework beneath. Then it is only a matter of sharp saws, muscle, and patience before the house has been reduced to panels, loaded on trucks, and started toward the new location. The task is not as simple with dismembering but it, too, starts at the ridge pole and gradually works to the foundation. While one crew is clearing away the roofing, another is taking off the exterior siding. If this happens to be the original wide clapboards, great care is exercised so they may be used again. This may or may not be true of the boarding underneath. Even old builders were wont to use second-hand lumber where it wouldn't show. On the other hand, where the exterior is shingled the side walls underneath are often of wide soft wood plank which take the place of both weather boarding and supporting studs. They are, of course, numbered and removed to be used again. Shingles, whether roof or side wall, cannot be saved as they are invariably too weatherbeaten. Lath and plaster are likewise destroyed in the dismembering but they are small loss as they are usually in bad order. If the studding is in good condition, it is used again but if it is badly warped or of oak, it is left behind. Century-old oak is as hard as concrete and must actually be drilled for nails. When the studding is taken out, all window frames and doorways are removed and stored. Now comes removal of stairways, feather-board partitioning, flooring and paneling in the order mentioned. Offhand one would schedule the latter as one of the first things to be taken out but the building ways of the old workmen dictate otherwise. As a means of stopping drafts, they put all paneling in from joist to joist, that is, from below the upper surface of the flooring to above the lower surface of the ceiling. After floors and ceilings are out, it is a simple matter to loosen all paneling and remove it in large units. Wherever possible whole room-ends go intact. The stairway is also taken out as a unit, especially the more elaborate one in the front hall. Prying loose the old wide flooring is a difficult operation. The original hand-wrought nails have rusted fast and if too much leverage is used, the boards split. Men used to such work salvage the old flooring with little damage, however. At the same time that the paneling makes its exit, the large hearthstones are pried from position and moved to a waiting truck. All that now remain are the chimney and timber frame. By this time each joint of the latter has been numbered and given its color code. With a simple derrick and ropes and pulleys, dismembering the frame commences. The pins that make the joints tight are removed by driving or boring. Roof rafters and purlins come first; then the yard arms that brace plate and summer beams, followed by these timbers themselves. Second floor joists come after them, followed by the corner posts. Each must be removed with caution and ingenuity. There must be no sawing apart or proper re-erection will be impossible. Since first floor rafters and sills are usually badly decayed, the general practice is to use new material. So the old ones are left behind. While this is in progress, two men pry lintels, cheeks, and other large stones from the fireplaces, as well as stones at the openings of brick ovens. As many old bricks from the chimney are salvaged as possible. Large stone door steps are also removed but generally no attempt is made to take along the dressed stone of the foundations. The cost of hauling to the new site is out of proportion to the advantage gained. Native stones uncovered in digging the new cellar are made reasonably square and used instead. Old houses antedating 1800 are not usually over twelve or sixteen inches above the level of the ground and so little new stone is needed. The chimney of the reconstructed house must outwardly resemble the original. Where it comes through the roof it is of ample proportions and built of old brick, but except for old fireplaces and ovens, it is otherwise modern. With flue tile, cement, mortar and hard brick, safety of construction is accomplished in much less space. What is saved frequently becomes closets or the well for plumbing pipes. Finding space for baths is a nice game of ingenuity. Perhaps there is a small bedroom that can be divided and provide baths for two main bedrooms. Again, shifting a partition a few feet may do it. In one old house, once a tavern, the dance hall on the second floor was reduced nearly ten feet and the space became a combination bath and dressing room. Thus, the rural ball room was translated into a large master bedroom with all present-day appurtenances. In another house a storage space six by eight feet became an excellent bath by having a window cut in the exterior wall. In the all-important question of kitchen and servants' quarters be modern from start to finish. The old farmhouse kitchen was both living room and workroom. It was large and cheerful. Accordingly the reconstructed house continues it as a living room. The new kitchen can best be located in an extension either original or new but designed to be in keeping. Here the noises and odors of cooking will not permeate the main structure and with mouse-proof new partitions, kitchen, pantry, and servants' quarters can be arranged so they will be logical and convenient. Wherever possible the garage ought to be a part of the service wing for ease of access and heating in winter. Because of the individuality of old houses, returning doors and windows to the original location is not entirely mandatory. One here and there can be moved a little without destroying resemblance to the original. With the plans for re-erection complete, everything is ready for a second raising of the frame. New sills cut to the same dimensions as the old are put in place. Then corner posts, summer and plate beams, and other principal timbers are hoisted to their proper places. By virtue of numbering and marking with colors--red for the ground floor, blue for the second, and black for the attic is one reconstructor's code--each mortice and tenon joint is put back just as it was originally and the whole frame made plumb. Now hardwood pins driven home at its joints make the skeleton firm and solid. Then comes the new roof of whatever type of shingles selected. Along with it starts the work of enclosing the side walls. These steps, of course, apply to a structure taken apart piecemeal. With a "flaked" house, roofs and walls are returned to position as panels. Making saw-cut cracks tight is the only remaining step. If possible, the old studding and weather boarding are used, although, as neither will show, new material can be substituted if desired. Similarly a rough flooring of cheap lumber is laid as a foundation for the old. Such features as the main stairway and paneling, cleaned and repaired, are now brought in through large openings in the side walls and put in place before enclosing the frame is completed. There are two points of view about using old window frames. One favors using them despite lack of mechanical means for raising or lowering the sash. The other, reasoning that many of the frames are bound to be badly weathered and not too sound, recommends new ones complete with weights and cords. With the latter, the old effect is preserved by reproducing the exterior molding exactly and by using the original interior trim. After enclosing is completed and the interior partitions are in place, the house is ready for lath and plaster. Wood or metal lath or any one of the various plaster boards can be used as foundation. Now comes a fine point. Present-day plasterers produce a much finer finish than was the rule a century ago, but if they understand the effect desired they will restrain themselves and possibly omit the final skim coat. The next details are the window sash, interior trim, and the final exterior siding. The latter can be either the original clapboards, new ones of the same width, or the long riven shingles. Whatever is used, for protection against winter winds, the boarding ought to be sheathed either with building paper or a quilting. Likewise, the tops of all door and window frames must be properly flashed. This prevents rain leaks which are bound to stain the plaster. Before the original flooring is re-laid it should be thoroughly scrubbed with a mild lye solution to rid it of old paint, stains, and dirt; as many of the old nails removed as possible, and injured sections discarded. Since there is bound to be an appreciable loss, the attic flooring can be used to take the place of that discarded or an additional amount bought from some wrecker specializing in materials salvaged from old structures. Along with cleaning the old flooring, it is frequently wise to have the edges re-planed so they will be straight and true. It obviates wide cracks that gather dust and lint. In taking the old house apart, a bit of siding may give a clue to the original color outside. Under the various coats of paint and paper of the interior the owner may get glimpses of the scheme of decoration used when the house was young. We may not realize it but Colonial Americans were partial to color in the home and used a number of very effective off-shades now largely forgotten. If these can be discovered and samples preserved for matching, the results will be authentic and at the same time give the house an individuality and atmosphere that will not be met with elsewhere. [Illustration: AS THEY BUILT A CHIMNEY IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY _Photo by John Runyon_] A house that can be purchased for removal will not often be completely equipped with its original wrought-iron hinges, door latches and locks. But the chances are that enough will remain to indicate what they were and replacements that match and fit can be bought from an antique dealer specializing in old hardware. Since electricity is entirely a modern convenience, selecting fixtures must depend entirely on the owner's taste. One of the most satisfactory restored houses we have seen has very few fixtures and many portable lamps chiefly made from old jugs and converted astral oil lamps. In bathrooms, kitchen, cellar and garage, no attempt was made to affect the antique. Being strictly utilitarian rooms, simple fixtures that would provide the maximum of light were employed. So "if only" has become an actuality. The old house is now comfortably settled on its new site and like most transplanted things will thrive better if some faint flavor of its old surroundings is present, such as an apple orchard or one or two fine old trees that look as if they and the house had grown old together. THE SMOKE GOES UP THE CHIMNEY [Illustration] _CHAPTER VIII_ THE SMOKE GOES UP THE CHIMNEY "Remember that the new chimneys are not to smoke," wrote General Washington from New York in 1776 to his kinsman and overseer, Lund Washington, regarding the remodeling of Mount Vernon. That admonition is just as necessary today as then. A chimney is still an essential part of a house. Also, despite the newest and most effective heating systems, family life, in the country at least, still centers around the hearth. Old, new, or merely middle-aged, no country home is considered properly equipped without at least one fireplace. There is no use in pretending that they are needed for heat, but the leaping flames and brisk crackling of burning twigs are a cheery sight and sound. "Harriet _will_ have her fireplace fire even though she has to open all the doors and windows," chuckled one householder. This ceases to be a pleasantry if doors and windows have to be thrown wide to let out smoke instead of excess heat. Then this center of family cheer becomes as exasperating as any other inanimate thing that doesn't work. If, by purchase of an existing structure, a householder has become heir to such a problem, simple things, like fireplace hoods, capping the chimney, or increasing its height, can be tried. If these fail, architectural counsel is the next step. Such trouble is more frequent in houses dating after the stove era than before. The old masons built fireplaces for practical use rather than for occasional indulgence. They had never heard of aerodynamics but they knew how to construct fireplaces that would give out real heat as well as chimneys that carried the smoke where it belonged, up and out. Of course some unwise features are to be found in the old work but, for the most part, design and proportions cannot be improved. The angles of sides and back, size of opening and throat, location of smoke shelf, size and proportions of smoke chamber, all were determined through years of rule of thumb experiment where only the best results survived. Therefore, the owner of an antique country home with chimney and fireplaces intact should think twice before he gives orders to demolish them. Similarly, he who is building a new house can well plan to reproduce the old fireplaces in size and shape. Building proper chimneys and hearths was slowly evolved through the centuries. In the late 18th century, an American codified this masonic lore and established the scientific basis for a proper fireplace so cogently that even today his principles form the backbone of fireplace building. He was born Benjamin Thompson, March 26, 1753, at Woburn, Massachusetts, but is better known as Count von Rumford of the Holy Roman Empire. "The plague of a smoking fireplace is proverbial," began Rumford in his treatise on the subject, written during his years in the service of the Elector of Bavaria. Stripped of the involved terminology characteristic of the natural philosopher of that day, his specifications for a smokeless, heat-radiating fireplace are very simple and depend on three fundamentals. First, the size of flue must be in proportion to the fireplace opening. Second, the angles of back and jambs must be such that they will reflect heat into the room. Third, throat and smoke chamber of proper size and shape are essential because the former improves the draft while the latter prevents smoke from being blown out into the room by a down draft within the chimney flue. From this it is clear that the New England-reared count of the Holy Roman Empire was really describing the type and design of fireplace in general use at home in his boyhood and explaining the scientific reasons for its superiority over European rectangular ones, built throatless and without a smoke chamber. As stated before, technical men today generally go back to Rumford's work and the American tradition behind it, but in one particular they make a wise departure. Instead of a single common flue, they advocate separate ones for each fireplace. These modern specifications, based on several centuries of good practice, are as follows: The fireplace should be at least 18 inches deep and have a hearth 20 inches wide. The size of opening must of course be in proportion to the dimensions of the room, but one with lintel less that 26 inches above the hearth is not practical because of difficulty in tending the fire. A good maximum height is 42 inches. The width should be in accord and exceed it so that the opening is a well-proportioned rectangle with its greater dimension horizontal. In our country home, built about 1765, there are three fireplaces, each of different size and proportions. The largest, where the cooking was done, is 50 inches wide by 37 inches high and 18 inches deep. The one in the old parlor has a width of 38-1/2 inches, a height of 28-1/2 inches, and a depth of 13-1/2 inches. The smallest has an opening just off the square which is 27 inches wide by 25-1/2 inches high with a depth of only 11 inches. All three are non-smokers under all conditions of wind and weather. With proper size of wood they are easy to tend and good sources of warmth except in real winter weather. Each is individualistic in hearth dimensions, the largest of course being that of the old kitchen with a hearthstone over seven feet long by two feet wide. Whether heat radiates into the room, or goes up the chimney along with the smoke, depends on the angles of fireplace sides and back. The former should be set at an angle of about 60 degrees so that they flare outward from the back wall. There are two schools of thought regarding the back. One would have the forward pitch begin one third of the distance from floor to lintel; the other favors the slope starting at the bottom and continuing upward in an unbroken plane. In the former, the pitch should be about 23 degrees from the vertical; with the latter, 18 degrees will suffice. From this point the consideration of dimensions goes up the chimney. In its standard ordinance for chimney construction, the National Board of Fire Underwriters calls for fireplace flues with a draft area of one-twelfth of that of the fireplace opening and determines this area as a circle or ellipse that will fit within the tile used to line the flue. As it is difficult to obtain flue linings of exactly the desired area, it is better to select a size slightly larger, rather than one smaller, and so make sure of sufficient capacity under all weather conditions. Between the lintel of the fireplace and the point where the flue commences come the three structural features so stressed by Count Rumford. They are the throat, smoke shelf, and smoke chamber. As its name implies, the throat is the opening through which smoke, hot gases, and some flames pass on their way upward. Experts hold that its correct construction contributes more to the efficiency of a fireplace than any other feature, save proper flue design. The area of the throat opening should not be less than that of the flue and its length must be equal to the width of the fireplace. It should be located eight inches above the lintel. Under present practice, a cast-iron throat with a damper which can be opened and closed to regulate the up-chimney flow is standard. Also, when the fireplace is not in use, this damper can be closed and so prevent loss of other heat. The smoke shelf comes immediately above the throat and is formed by recessing the brickwork of the back the full width of the chimney for at least four inches. With very large fireplaces, it may be as much as twelve inches. The object of this feature is to stop any accidental draft within the flue from going farther and blowing smoke out into the room. The area in between this and the flue itself is called the smoke chamber. Here the walls are drawn in with a gradual upward taper to the point where the flue lining begins. The chamber so formed can and does hold accumulated smoke temporarily when a gust of wind across the chimney top cuts off the draft for a moment. In building chimneys, the old masons varied their structural ways and materials according to the part of the country in which they worked. New England workmen were partial to a central chimney, the core around which the house was built, and their usual material was stone. Occasionally brick was used but this material was more in favor with old houses of the middle states and the South. Here, instead of the central stack, a chimney was built in each of the two end walls. The climate was milder and the style of architecture, with central hall and stairway, made such practice desirable. The mark of an old chimney is its massive construction. In those of the central type, it is not uncommon to find a foundation pier of ten by twelve feet in the cellar. This was laid dry and just below the level of the first floor, large transverse beams were put in place to support the hearthstones of the fireplaces above. Here dry work stopped and, from there to the chimney top, all stones were laid in a mortar made of lime and sand. At a point above the smoke chambers of the various fireplaces and the brick-oven flue (always a part of the kitchen fireplace) all came together in a common flue. Here the chimney gradually tapered to the top and was usually about three or four feet square where it came through the roof. Originally such chimneys were entirely of stone. Comparatively few are found in original condition today. Time and weather usually made repair or repointing of the portion above the roof line necessary and, in the course of it, brick was often used instead of stone. By ample proportions the old masons achieved fire safety. This can now be accomplished with a distinct saving in space if one is building a new chimney. There are certain fundamental provisions as stated in the standard chimney ordinance cited above. These are tedious and complicated reading for the layman, but to architects, builders and masons, they simply mean standard workmanship and materials that have been used for years to insure correctly functioning chimneys. Possibly a brief resumé of these fundamentals is not out of place in order that the prospective country house owner may not demand the impossible in his schemes for convenient closets, cupboards, or even a stairway. The chimney may be built of brick, stone, reinforced concrete, concrete blocks, or hollow tile of clay or concrete. All chimneys should rest on an adequate foundation located below the frost line and both chimney and flues should adhere strictly to the perpendicular. If an angle is necessary, it ought not to be greater than 45 degrees. No offset should be over three-eighths of the total width of the chimney. In laying brick or other material, care should be taken that all joints are tight and completely filled with mortar. Unlined chimneys are not prohibited but the best arrangement is one in which all flues are lined with fire clay tile, joints well set in mortar, and each flue separated by a partition of brick. Only sound, uncracked tile should be put in place. Fireplace walls must be of ample proportions to support the chimney and at least eight inches thick. It is further suggested that they be lined with fire brick. The woodwork around fireplaces must not be closer than four inches to the back wall of a chimney and floor beams must be two inches away from a chimney wall. The space between should be filled with loose crushed cinders or other porous incombustible material to form a fire stop. Plaster for exterior walls of a chimney should be applied direct or on metal lath. No wood furring or lath. The hearth, which may be of brick, stone, tile, or concrete, must be supported by a masonry trimmer arch or similar fire-resisting construction. Both hearth and arch should be at least twenty inches wide and not less than two feet longer than the width of the fireplace opening. If the mantel is of wood, it must not be placed within eight inches of the jambs, or twelve of the lintel. The minimum height of chimneys above the roof line is two feet for hip, gable, or mansard roofs, and three for flat ones. Chimney caps must not reduce the effective draft area of flues. In connecting the smoke pipe of a heating plant, incinerator, or water heater to its flue in the chimney, the opening must be built with a fire clay tile collar and the smoke pipe should not protrude into the flue beyond the collar. Otherwise, the efficiency of the draft is materially impaired. In addition, home owners may have other features installed that will do much to increase heat production of fireplaces and convenience in the use of them. One is the steel fireplace form, built into the chimney. This takes the place of jambs, back, throat, smoke shelf, and smoke chamber and is so designed that behind sides and back there is an air space opening into the room through intake and outlet vents on either side of the fireplace. The cold air of the room is drawn into this space, heated by radiation and returned. It acts on the order of a hot air furnace and can be used to advantage in new fireplaces or in old ones too much out of repair to be used without rebuilding. There is also the sheet-steel smoke chamber which comes complete with throat damper and smoke shelf and is put in place above the lintel where it extends to the point where the flue commences. A common device for easy disposal of the ashes is the ash dump, a small cast-iron vault located in the fireplace floor and connected with an ash vault built in the chimney foundation. The vault is equipped with an iron door so that the ashes may be removed once or twice a year. So much for chimneys and fireplaces. For actual and even heating of all parts of the house, some type of heating plant is necessary both for comfort and economy. It is true that our forefathers lived, many of them to a ripe old age, with only fireplaces to heat their drafty homes and with no heat at all in their public buildings. They did, however, fortify themselves well with a daily draft of rum and they wore a quantity of clothing that would be intolerable today. Further, plenty of wood for fuel grew at their very door; it was part of the normal farm work to cut it down and prepare it for the cavernous fireplaces. But then, as now, a fireplace could only heat a comparatively small area. Further, under modern conditions, it is the most expensive heat that can be generated. Even though your holding includes a good sized wood-lot, the cost of labor for getting fuel cut, drawn, and piled in your cellar may run to more than the same amount purchased from the local coal yard. If you have purchased an old house with no heating plant or are building a new house, the type of heating used will largely depend on what your architect considers practical and what you can pay for. The chief systems, viewed in descending order of expense, are hot water, steam, piped hot air, and the pipeless furnace. All of these can be fitted to burn either coal or oil. Provided one can meet the initial expense of purchase and installation, the ideal system is probably the oil burning, electrically run, hot water heating system. Barring the final perfection of the robot, it is as near to a mechanical servant as one is likely to get even in this age of invention. There is no shoveling or sifting of ashes. There is no furnace shaking or stoking, no puzzling over dampers. Periodically and for a price, a man comes and fills the oil tank. A thermostat regulates the heat. You have only to set it for the desired temperature and forget it. There is just one flaw with this perfect system. It is dependent on electricity. Let that fail and there is trouble. The fine copper radiators, so efficient when all goes well, spring leaks if the water in them freezes. A few years ago an unusually severe blizzard in the North Atlantic states worked havoc with all of the modern devices. Roads were blocked, telephone and electric service lines were down, and even train service was impaired. One of our neighbors had built a new house two or three years before and equipped it with practically every appliance known to modern comfort, including an oil burner. In a few short hours this blizzard had set him back more than a century. Electricity, of course, failed and the heat in his fine furnace dwindled and died. It grew colder and colder, ultimately reaching twenty degrees below zero. Added to the discomfort of the family was the disquieting knowledge that the freezing point would mean cracked radiators. Luckily he had three fireplaces that really worked. He had plenty of wood. So for three days and nights, he and two other members of his family worked in relays to keep roaring fires going in all three fireplaces. In this way they maintained a temperature of at least 40 degrees and so saved pipes and radiators. One may argue that, if water freezing in radiators and pipes is all, why not drain them in such an emergency. This is a job for a plumber, as it must be done with a thoroughness that leaves no moisture behind. The average layman has neither the skill nor the tools for it. Therefore, if there comes a winter when snow, ice, high winds, and low temperatures cause you to wonder if living in the country the year around is quite sound and you decide that a few weeks in a nice city apartment would be a good idea, close your house, if it seems more expedient than leaving a caretaker behind, but don't try to save the plumber's fee. Remember pipes, radiators, and valves cannot be mended. They have to be replaced and that is expensive. However, blizzards that seriously interrupt electric service are so rare that one need not forego the decided comfort that an oil burner gives, just because some such chance may arise. Also, if the question of expense must be considered, steam can be used instead of hot water and will cost from one-quarter to one-third less. The initial expenditure for both hot water and steam heating is considerably less, too, if coal rather than oil is to be the fuel. This calls for quite a little more supervision on the part of the householder. He can cut down some of the drudgery of stoking by installing a gravity feed type of boiler. This is equipped with a hopper and needs filling only once a day. Or he can use the old fashioned hand-fired type, with or without the services of a man of all work. There will be dust and dirt as well as the morning and evening rituals of stoking, adjusting dampers, shaking, and cleaning out the ash pit. There will be the periodic chore of sifting ashes and carrying them out for either carting away or for filling in hollow places in the driveway. But his fire will burn, no matter what happens to the current of the local light and power company. However, as already stated, electricity is a faithful servant most of the time and there are devices that not only take away some of the drudgery of furnace tending but, in the long run, actually save money in coal bills. One of these is the mechanical stoker which is electrically driven and burns the finest size of coal. Another way of reducing the coal bill is to install an electric blower. This, as its name implies, is a forced draft controlled by a thermostat, and with it the cheaper grades of coal can be used. Incidentally, any coal-burning furnace that gets to sulking can be made to respond by placing an ordinary electric fan before the open ash pit. We have done this with a pipeless furnace and have been able to burn the cheaper buckwheat coal almost entirely as a result. There appears to be no mechanical device for removing the ashes out of the cellar. So, if the householder puts in a coal burning steam or hot water plant as a matter of economy, and then in a few years covets an oil burner, it is perfectly practical and possible to have one installed in his furnace. Whatever the fuel, make sure enough radiation is provided with steam or hot water plants to heat the house evenly and adequately in the coldest weather according to your ideas rather than the plumber's. He is usually a hardy individual who considers 68 degrees warm enough for any one. Theoretically it may be. Actually most people are more comfortable at a room temperature of from two to four degrees higher. Cheapest of all to install and operate is the pipeless furnace. This is hardly more than a large stove set in the cellar. An ample register in the floor directly above it is connected to a galvanized iron casing that surrounds the fire pot. It is divided so that cool air from the house itself is drawn downward, heated, and then forced upward again. This system will not work well in a house equipped with wings or additions so placed that the air from the central register cannot penetrate. It is particularly effective in a house with a central hall. In the 18th century compact house with central chimney, the pipeless furnace register can be set in the small front entrance and another register cut in the ceiling directly above it. This carries part of the heat to the second floor and so makes for better distribution of the warm air. As already stated, such a furnace is quite inexpensive and so easy to install that the average handy man will not find it too complicated. We put one in our country home some eight years ago merely as a means of keeping the house warm during the early spring and late fall. We have since found that it can and does heat the entire house even at sub-zero temperatures. In all honesty, however, one must admit that it has certain disadvantages. First, it is like the old-fashioned stove in that an even heat is hard to maintain. Second, with coal or wood as the usual fuel, there is a discouraging amount of dust generated. Third, the doors to all rooms must be left open so that the currents of hot air can circulate. One chooses between frosty seclusion and balmy gregariousness. Yet, in spite of these very definite "outs," it is far better than no furnace at all. It is, in fact, an excellent stop gap for the country house owner who is not prepared to invest in the more expensive heating plants at the moment. The more effete system can always be added later and the faithful old pipeless junked, moved to some other building, or left in place for an emergency, such as a public-utility-crippling blizzard or flood. THE QUESTION OF WATER SUPPLY [Illustration] _CHAPTER IX_ THE QUESTION OF WATER SUPPLY Whether one lives in the country or the city, geology and geography govern the source of the water that flows from the tap. Cities go miles for an adequate, pure water supply and have been doing so since the days of the Caesars. Such systems involve thousands of acres and millions of dollars for water sheds, reservoirs, dams, pipe lines, and purifying plants. The country place is a miniature municipality with its own water system. The latter need not be elaborate or expensive but it must be adequate. Nothing disrupts a family so quickly and completely as water shortage. Personally, we would far rather see our family hungry and in rags than again curtail its baths and showers. "We can be careful and only use what is necessary," sounds easy but before long everybody is against father. He is mean and unreasonable. Save the water, indeed! It is all his fault. He should have known the supply would fail when he bought the place. A moron could see it was not large enough. A six weeks' drought? Well, what of it! Meanwhile water diviners, well diggers and drillers add gall and wormwood to the situation. "Oh yes, that well always did go dry about this time of year. Saving the water wouldn't make any difference. Better not bother with it but dig or drill a new one." Expense? Why quibble about that when the peace of one's family is at stake. There is, of course, only one outcome. A broken and chastened man soon makes the best terms he can with one of his tormentors. If he is wise it will be with the advocate of the driven well. That solves for all time any question of water supply. Before deciding on a source, however, consider what the daily needs will be. From long observation, it has been found that the average country place requires fifty gallons of water a day for each member of the family, servants included. Then allow for two extra people so that the occasional guest, whose knowledge of water systems begins and ends with the turning of a faucet, will not unduly deplete the supply. For example, a family of seven should have a daily water supply of from 400 to 500 gallons depending on how much entertaining is done and how extensive are the outdoor uses. This allowance will be ample for toilets, baths, kitchen and laundry, as well as for moderate watering of the garden and lawn. Of course, if cars are to be washed regularly, fifty gallons should be added to the daily demand. If there is a swimming pool, its capacity should be figured by cubical content multiplied by seven and one-half (the number of gallons to the cubic foot) and allowance made for from fifteen to twenty-five per cent fresh water daily. The daily production of a spring or drilled well can be easily gauged. A flow of one gallon a minute produces 1,440 gallons in twenty-four hours. In other words, a flow of ten gallons a minute means 14,400 gallons a day which, at fifteen gallons a bath or shower, is enough water to wash a regiment from the colonel to the newest recruit. Estimating the daily production of a shallow, dug well is more difficult. The number of gallons standing in it can be obtained by using the mathematical formula for the contents of a cylinder, but only observation will tell how quickly the well replenishes itself when pumped dry. By long experience, however, country plumbers have found that if such a well contains five feet of water in extremely dry weather, it can be relied upon for the needed fifty gallons a day each for a family of seven with enough over for safety. In fact, with all water sources except an artesian or driven well, the question always is, will it last during an abnormally rainless season? Never-failing springs and wells that never go dry are institutions in any countryside. So consult some of the oldest inhabitants. They know and if they give your well or spring a good character, the chances are that even the most exacting of families will find such a water supply adequate. Whether it is pure or not is another matter but one that can easily be determined by sending a sample to your state health department or a bacteriological laboratory. That this should be done before such water is used for drinking purposes goes without saying. The driven or artesian well has two points that makes it worth the cost. There is no question of purity or of quantity. It taps subterranean water which is unaffected by local causes of contamination or by drought. The kind of water system, like the supply, is governed by geography and geology. If there happens to be a spring on a nearby hillside somewhat higher than the house, nature has provided the cheapest and simplest system. A pipe line and storage tank are all that are needed. Gravity does the rest. On the other hand, if the spring is on the same level or lower than the house, a pump must be added to the equipment to force the water into the pressure tank and out of the faucets. If the spring has a large flow and adequate drainage, a water ram is advisable. With this hydraulic machine, three-quarters of the water that flows into it is used to force the balance into the storage tank. The expense of operation is nothing and as water rams and pumps cost about the same, such an installation has much to recommend it. When the search for water goes below ground, one must reckon with geology. What lies below the turf is the deciding factor. If it is sand and gravel with a high water table (the level of subterranean water), an excellent well can be had cheaply. The practice is either to bore through to the water table with a man-operated auger and then insert the pipe, or to drive the latter down with a heavy sledge hammer. In either case, water is but a few feet below ground and a shallow-well pump, which can raise water twenty-two feet by suction, will be adequate. There are two types of well to be considered with less favorable subsoil formations--the shallow and the artesian. With the former (known to country people as a dug well) a shaft from six to ten feet across is dug with pick and shovel until adequate water is reached. Then the shaft is lined with stone laid without cement or mortar up to a few feet from the top. This allows water from the surrounding area to seep into the well where it is retained until it is drawn upward by the pump. It is obvious that a well of this type cannot be built through ledge or solid rock. In fact, unusually large boulders sometimes force diggers to abandon a shaft and start afresh. An old house with two or three of these shallow wells on the premises serves notice on the prospective buyer that repeated and probably unsuccessful attempts have been made to find a well that does not go dry. Dug wells are seldom deeper than fifty feet; the majority are but little beyond twenty-two feet, the suction limit for a shallow-well pump. As is obvious from their construction, they depend on the water in the upper layers of the subsoil and so are more readily affected by dry weather. Although not drought-proof like the artesian, a dug well, which costs much less, can be an excellent water source and supply amazingly large quantities of water. We have lived for ten years in a house served by a shallow well credited with being never failing and it has faithfully lived up to its reputation, even through the driest of seasons. Once, however, it made real trouble. Over it stood a picturesque latticed well house. On one of the beams a pair of robins nested annually. In the middle of the third summer the water developed a queer flavor. It steadily grew stronger until one night the steam arising from a hot bath caused the pajama-clad head of the house to seize a flashlight and move hastily to the well house. One beam of light disclosed the horrid truth. Floating in the water far below were two very dead fledglings. The next day a well cleaner collected twenty-five dollars for removing the birds and pumping out the well. He also gave some excellent advice which was followed promptly. The well house, picturesque though it was, gave way to a substantial masonry curbing equipped with a stout wire cover. The peace of mind so gained has more than offset the trifling expense. No longer need one peer fearfully down a twenty-five foot shaft when a pet cat fails to show up for a meal, or shoo away from the spot the over-inquisitive offspring of visiting friends. The drilled well, against which there is no possible argument save that of cost, is made by boring a hole in the ground with a powerful apparatus until sufficient subterranean water is reached. There are two methods, the chop and the core drill. With the former, a cutting tool exactly like the drill used to drive holes in rocks for blasting, only larger, cuts a circular hole downward. The boom of the drilling rig as it raises and drops the drill provides the necessary impact. With the core method, as its name implies, a hollow boring drill cuts its way aided by steel shot and a flow of water forced through the pipe that rotates the cutting tool. With either method the results are the same. Sooner or later the drill will reach an underground water course of sufficient size to give an ample flow. As such drilling is done on a charge of three to five dollars a foot, the owner, of course, hopes for sooner. Except where there is an underlying stratum of sand or gravel beneath hard pan, the drill has to go through rock. How far depends on the kind. Sandstone is the best water producer; limestone yields very hard water. Again, drilling through till (a heterogeneous mixture of clay, gravel, and boulders) may or may not locate water readily depending on how densely it is packed. The rocks known as gneiss and schist are readily bored and are considered fair water bearers. Granite is bad news. It means slow work and a deep and expensive well. It is one of the hardest rocks with little water content. The only hope is that the drill will strike a vein flowing through a fissure. Whether it will be at fifty or 500 feet is a pure matter of luck. A dry well at 100 feet may become a gusher at 105 delivering twenty gallons to the minute, or it may stay dry for another two to five hundred feet. Tales of well drilling are many and varied. Good pure water has been found at fifteen feet. In New Hampshire there is a well 900 feet deep that gushes so powerfully that it is capped and still flows at forty pounds pressure. It supplies an elaborate country place and a large stock farm. It is performances like these that indicate the water is there if one will just keep on drilling and paying until it is reached. Where to locate a well is very much a matter of guess. Even in the Sahara Desert there is water. How far down is the question. For generations much faith was placed in diviners. They were supposedly endowed with some occult talent that enabled them to pick a sure spot for water. They were known for miles around and were summoned when a new homestead was under consideration. With a forked hazel wand held in both hands, such an one would pace solemnly around until the stick gave a convulsive twist downward. This indicated that water was directly beneath. The spot would be reverently marked; the diviner would depart and the well diggers who had followed his performance with proper awe would begin work. As the ceremony failed to stipulate just how far down the precious liquid was, a successful well was presumably the result. The prowess of the well diviner is acclaimed even today by some people, although scientific investigation has proved that his services are worth just about as much as those of a witch doctor. After the country home owner has attended to the little matter of a well, be it old or new, dug or drilled, the next step is installing a pump. If the water level is less than twenty feet below ground, a shallow-well pump will be perfectly adequate and as it is much less expensive than the more elaborate deep-well pump, we recommend its use if possible. Most plumbers invariably advise the deep-well pump, especially for driven wells. They do this in all honesty and with no ulterior motive. There is always a bare chance that the water level may drop below the suction limit of the shallow pump under abnormal pressure. If it does, an irate customer can descend on the luckless installer of the less expensive pump and cause general unpleasantness if not loss of custom. The difference between these two kinds of pump, aside from price, is that with a shallow-well one, suction is produced in the cylinder of the pump itself, while the deep-well pump has its plunger and cylinder at the bottom of the well. Water is forced up the pipe by the up and down movement of the plunger within the cylinder. This plunger is connected to a geared wheel by the well-rod that extends downward from well-head to cylinder in the center of the same pipe through which the water is forced upward. Because of its design, a deep-well pump must always be located directly above the well itself. With a suction pump, on the other hand, the pipe from well to pump may bend and turn to suit conditions. These should be as few as possible since each right-angle bend of the pipe reduces the pump's suction power one foot. [Illustration: A PLACE FOR SUMMER AND WEEK-ENDS _Robertson Ward, architect_. _Photo by La Roche_] As for motive power, electricity has distinct advantages over all other means. The switch operated by pressure starts the pump when the supply of water in the storage tank drops below a certain level, and also stops it when the proper volume has been reached. (Ten pounds to start the pump and forty or fifty to stop it are the usual adjustments.) A nice little refinement here is the installation of a third faucet at either kitchen or pantry sink, piped direct to the pump. Turn this and fresh water flows from the well itself, thus consoling any sentimentalist with visions of a dripping moss-covered bucket. Also water so drawn seldom needs to be iced. In summer if there are signs of a thunder storm it is wise to open this same faucet. It starts the pump and that automatically continues until the storage tank is full. Then, if electric service is cut off by the storm, the household will have ample water until the damage has been repaired. If the country home owner happens to live beyond reach of an electric light system, he can put in his own plant, use a gasoline engine for motive power or even a hand pump. A gasoline engine should, of course, be located in an outbuilding and the exhaust pipe must extend into open air because of the deadly fumes of carbon monoxide gas. The hand pump is, of course, the simplest and there are several excellent ones to be had. They are not as practical as they sound, however. When we first bought our own country place we installed a very good one as there was then no electricity in the locality. It worked excellently--when any one could be found to man it. Handy men hired for odd jobs around the grounds took it on for a set sum per time. The labor turnover was unprecedented. One by one they either resigned within a week or somehow managed to "forget all about that pumping job." Members of the family pressed into service straightway became ardent water savers, and guests who volunteered gallantly somehow never, never came again. Yet it was not an exhausting or complicated task. It was simply so monotonous that it wore down the most phlegmatic nature. So the rural householder will do well to remember that, after all, this is a machine age and govern himself accordingly. As for the storage tank, the modern practice is to place it under ground or in the cellar. The old custom of putting it in the attic had distinct disadvantages when an overflow or a leak occurred and either stained the ceilings or sent them crashing down on furniture and possibly occupants of the rooms below. The best water system, however, cannot cope with faucets thoughtlessly left running. Even the largest tank will eventually become empty and then there will be water for no one until the pump has replenished the supply. "Waste not, want not" is an excellent motto for dwellers in the country, especially where water is concerned. SEWAGE SAFETY [Illustration] _CHAPTER X_ SEWAGE SAFETY Among the problems which his miniature municipality brings to the country house owner is the unromantic but necessary one of sewage disposal. In a suburban area it is merely a matter of connecting the house to the street main and paying higher taxes. With the country house, each owner must cope with the question for himself. He cannot leave it to chance or delude himself that any old system will serve. Some hot August day when his house is filled with guests, the makeshift disposal system will suddenly cease to function and an otherwise tactful guest will ask whether that queer smell is just part of the regular country air or what. Of course, nobody thinks of disposing of household waste by piping it to a brook or letting it flow down a sandy side hill some distance from the house. Those were the methods of the ignorant and unscientific past. The means of disposal recommended by sanitary experts are those in which the wastes undergo a bacterial fermentation which finally renders the sewage odorless and harmless. It can be accomplished by a septic tank or a tight cesspool. The latter with its two chambers is really a variety of the septic tank itself. The first vault is built of stone or brick laid in mortar and covered with a coat of waterproof cement. With both supply and overflow pipes below the normal level of the liquids, beneficial fermentation takes place in this compartment before the liquids pass over into the second chamber from which they gradually seep into the ground. Such an installation calls for more excavation and construction than a septic tank and, since it accomplishes nothing that cannot be done with the latter, is only used where there is not enough ground area for the disposal fields of a septic tank. The latter is an air-tight cylindrical or oblong container placed below ground, in which raw sewage purifies itself by the inherent bacteria. The first stage takes place within the tank and the second in the porous pipes that constitute the disposal fields. From the moment household wastes enter the tank, fermentation begins its work of reducing them from noisome sewage to harmless water. Both intake and outlet pipes extend below the level of the contents, with a baffle plate across the center which prevents direct outward flow. The heavy solids sink to the bottom and anaerobic bacteria, which develop only where there is no oxygen, breed rapidly and break these up so that they rise to the top and provide the ever present scum which excludes all air and stimulates fermentation of the entire content. Meanwhile, liquid from the tank is flowing into the disposal fields, which are porous land tile laid in shallow trenches and covered with earth and sod. Here some air is present and aerobic bacteria (those which thrive where there is oxygen) develop and complete the process of transforming the wastes into clear water. Installing such a system is neither expensive nor complicated. The tank itself should be large enough to hold the sewage of a household for twenty-four hours. It can be bought ready to install, or built of brick or concrete. Ready-made tanks are to be had of steel, concrete, or vitrified tile. We installed one of steel (which is the cheapest) some ten years ago and have found it most satisfactory. When it was delivered, two husky truck-men placed it at the edge of the pit prepared for it by the waiting plumber. They exhibited some curiosity and the plumber explained briefly about the bacteria and its action. "You mean one of these here bugs is into it already?" asked one of them as he applied an awe-struck eye to the aperture in the top. He apparently expected to find an insect akin to a full-size cockroach running around inside, and either decided the light was poor or that the plumber was a first-class liar, for he went off shaking his head doubtfully. The size of tank and length of disposal field is entirely a matter of size of household. On an average, the daily volume can be reckoned on the basis of fifty gallons per person and, for every fifty gallons of tank capacity, there should be thirty feet of disposal field. Thus, for a family of eight, a tank of five hundred gallons' capacity connected with a disposal field of three hundred feet will be ample, allowing for guests as well. In installing this system, the tank itself can be as near the house as ten or fifteen feet but the piping connecting it with the soil line of the plumbing should be water tight. The best way is to use four-inch cast iron pipe, calking all joints with oakum and lead. At a convenient point between house and tank, this line of pipe should have a "clean-out" fitting so that rags, solidified grease, or other substances that might block it can be removed. Sometimes vitrified tile with cemented joints is used instead of cast-iron pipe; but it has the distinct disadvantage that, if the rootlets of trees or large shrubs, attracted by the water, find so much as a pin hole in the cement, they will grow through and finally clog the pipe. From the tank to the disposal field, the first three or four lengths of pipe should be glazed tile with tight cement joints. From these on, three or four inch porous land tile laid in shallow trenches is used. For proper action, the trenches of the field should be not over eighteen inches deep so that the warmth and evaporation of the sun may be effective. Also in digging these trenches, there should be a slight grade away from the outlet of the tank. An inch to every ten feet is adequate. The bottom of the trenches is covered with a two-inch layer of medium-sized crushed stone or clean gravel. On this rest the land tile, and the joints are covered with roofing paper to prevent bits of stone or gravel from lodging within the pipe. The latter is covered two inches deep with more stone or gravel and over all go lengths of roofing paper cut slightly wider than the trench so that, when in place, the paper arches and fits tightly to the sides. The purpose of the stone or gravel is to facilitate water seepage from tile to ground while the roofing paper cover prevents silt from reducing the seepage. At the terminus of each trench is a leaching pool, built by digging a hole about three feet across and five feet deep. It is filled with crushed stone or small rocks to the level of the trench piping. Over it, before replacing the dirt, goes another piece of roofing paper. Into these pools drain what water has not seeped away in flowing from the tank. As can be seen from the foregoing description, the fermentation and bacterial action that takes place in a properly built septic tank system is automatic and needs no attention, although every second or third year it is advisable to remove the mud-like sediment from the tank. Otherwise, the latter's capacity gradually diminishes. The steps involved in building such a system are so simple that, while the services of a plumber are advisable, it is possible for an intelligent handy man to do the work. Be sure, however, that he realizes that each step is important and necessary. We knew of one otherwise capable workman who calmly omitted the crushed stone and gravel in the tile trenches. The system worked well for about four years. Then, one warm and sticky day in July, it ceased to function. A plumber demonstrated that the tiles were clogged with silt because the bed of crushed stone had been forgotten. For a week the house was sewerless while the careless short cut was remedied. The household had but two alternatives, take a vacation or go primitive. However, if a properly installed system fails to work, the cause lies in what it has to digest. Too much grease or too strong antiseptic solutions will reduce or prevent proper fermentation. Waste grease should therefore go into the garbage can. Also, strong doses of germ-killing solutions poured daily down sink-drains and toilets can put the hardiest septic tank out of action. The remedy for such misguided sanitary efforts is simple. Turn on all the faucets in the house and so flush the tank thoroughly. Then pour down a toilet one or two pails of warm water in which a dozen cakes of yeast have been thoroughly dissolved. The bacteria of the yeast will re-establish fermentation in the tank and all will be well if no further doses of disinfectants come along to interfere. When one stops to consider, the septic tank is a remarkably simple and effective means of being rid of household wastes odorlessly and without contamination. Of course, such a system should be placed as far as possible from a water source and the disposal fields should not be located in a low, damp ground. The drier the soil, the better. Incidentally, a lawn which turns brown during the dry weather of summer can frequently be kept green if watered by such a method. The lines of the disposal pipes can be laid in practically any pattern desired. Fan-shaped or with parallel laterals is a favorite one. Here the branches should be so spaced that they are six feet apart. This will give plenty of surrounding earth to absorb the moisture. In using this system, there are two things to bear in mind. The action that goes on within a septic tank will only dissolve paper of tissue grade. Therefore, old bandages, pieces of absorbent cotton, and the like should go into the incinerator. Otherwise, they will clog the system and a thorough cleaning will be imperative. Secondly, the leaders which care for the water from the eaves cannot be connected to it, as entirely too much water would flow into the tank during storms. However, there are several ways of taking care of the water shed by roofs during heavy or protracted rains. In some localities where the supply of water is excessively hard or is so meager that it is not sufficient for all household purposes, pipes from the eaves are connected with an underground cistern, thus conserving the prized rain water. Otherwise, the common practice is simply to equip leaders or down-spouts with "quarter-bend" sections at the lower ends to keep water away from the foundation. This is a cheap and easy way; but if the land does not slope away from the house enough so that this water drains rapidly, pools and mud puddles are the result. Worse still, water may filter through foundation walls and leave a small lake in the cellar after every heavy rain. The disadvantages of the latter are obvious. The remedy is a dry well for each down-spout. They are simple and inexpensive, being small pits dug six to ten feet away from foundation walls and reaching below the frost line. They are filled to a depth of about two feet with broken stone, fragments of brick, or like material and connected with the down-spouts by glazed tile pipes. A cover of roofing paper is added and the earth then replaced. The rain water is thus absorbed below ground, instead of being left to wear small gullies into an otherwise well-kept lawn. Sometimes the contour of land about the house is such that it resembles a relief map of the Finger Lake country after each heavy rain or spring freshet. Subsurface drainage is the answer. In other words, a line of land tile like the fields of the septic tank. Through it this mislocated water may drain into a dry well, open ditch, or the gutter along the highway. Several years ago, highway improvement presented us with such a problem. The road gang put in a culvert through which flowed the drainage from a hill on the opposite side of the road. There was no redress from the Town Fathers. Technically ours was farm land and the established custom was that highway water could wander as it would and drain as natural slope dictated. It was be flooded or do something. A subsurface drain, some fifty feet long and connected with the gutter of an intersecting road, took care of the lawn. For the rest of the water to which we were made heir by the same fit of highway betterment, two local odd-job specialists dug an open trench across a little-used field. It terminated at an old subsurface drainage line constructed years ago when some one, who had the gift, brought forth fine crops of corn, potatoes, and beans there. There is another drainage problem that concerns mosquitoes, most exasperating of all summer pests. These insects fly but short distances. Marshy land and stagnant pools are their breeding places. If the latter cannot be drained, oil spraying is the alternative and that is work for a professional. Again an old rubbish heap, replete with tin cans and other discards that will hold water, offers more encouragement to mosquitoes than is generally realized. Cart all such rubbish away or bury it; then you can drink your after-dinner coffee in peace on terrace or lawn, or enjoy the coolness of evening dew after a blistering hot day in the city. DECORATIONS AND FURNISHINGS [Illustration] _CHAPTER XI_ DECORATIONS AND FURNISHINGS The decorations and furnishings of a house depend largely on its style of architecture and the owner's taste. Further, if in any doubt, it is better to do too little than too much. Under such circumstances, too, an interior decorator is helpful; but don't dump your problem in her lap and take a trip somewhere. When you return, a beautifully decorated and furnished house, correct in every detail, may greet you. There may even be a few pieces of the furniture you brought from the city home scattered about, but it won't be your house because you will have done nothing except foot the bill. Homes evolve. They are not pulled, rabbit-like, out of a hat. When you build a house, the architect makes it yours by getting a word picture of your ideas and pulling them down to earth in a series of business-like blueprints. If your ideas regarding decoration are nebulous, a good interior decorator can help to make them concrete. Do not depend on her completely, however, because you are anxious that this country home should be just right and you are afraid of making mistakes. There is nothing final about them and it is better to make a few and have a place that seems like your own home, rather than attain perfection and find your family wandering around the rooms with that impersonal, slightly bored look worn by the average visitor to a "perfect home" display in a department store. The early American was not afraid of color in his home. His fondness for it is evidenced by 17th and 18th century rooms on display in various museums throughout the country and in the growing number of house museums that have been restored to original condition. Looking at a few of these will help to crystallize your own ideas. You will notice that their furnishings are by no means limited to the year in which they were built or even the century. A good example of this is to be found in a late 17th century house museum, known as Marlpit Hall, located on Kings Highway, Middletown, New Jersey. Here two nationalities actually mingle, since the exterior with its details of roof and gable windows and two-part doors show the Dutch influence, while the woodwork within is English in feeling. It is not a very large house but every room has a different color scheme. The restorers discovered the original colors and reproduced them; now the old blue-green, light pink, apple green, yellow, tones of red, and the like form a perfect background for the furnishings which date from late in the 17th century until well into the 18th. For instance, in the dining room a gate-leg table of the Puritan years has settled down comfortably with a set of Windsor chairs that are probably a hundred years younger. Other rooms are furnished with William and Mary and Queen Anne pieces so arranged as to appear to be waiting for the owners of Marlpit Hall, in its heyday, to come back. Upstairs are bedrooms with four-post beds of varying ages mingled with other furnishings that are in harmony, though not necessarily of the same period. This is a very fair example of an Early American home where two or more generations were born, lived, and died. In those days the average citizen did not discard his home furnishings just because they went out of style. He moved them to less important rooms and bought as he could afford of new pieces made "in the neatest and latest fashion." The home owner today can well plan to use what he has, making a few additions as he and his house become better acquainted. If he has a number of Oriental rugs and some member of his family has a fixed idea that those of the hooked variety are the only kind suitable for a country home, let him buy one or two good hooked rugs, in the interests of peace, and lay them down with his Orientals. Both will be found in harmony because both have the same basic idea, skillful weaving of colors into a distinct but variegated pattern. Besides, the American colonists, industrious as they were, did not depend solely on the work of their hands for floor coverings and other accessories. Oriental rugs or Turkey carpets, as they were then called, were used here in the late 17th and early 18th centuries. They were popular in England, also, as is shown by Hogarth's drawings. In fact, most house furnishings are surprisingly adaptable. As with people, it is largely a matter of bringing out their pleasing traits and subduing their unattractive aspects. A quaint piece of bric-a-brac that was a misfit in the city apartment may look just right on the corner of the living room mantel in your country home. The old spode platter that reposed almost forgotten on the top shelf of a closet may come into its own on the Welsh dresser of your dining room. The same holds with pictures, mirrors, and clocks. As for furniture, don't discard a comfortable piece that you like just because it doesn't seem to fit into the scheme of decoration. A chair or a sofa that appears to quarrel violently with all other pieces in a room can often be made to conform by a change in upholstery, or in cases of extreme ugliness, with a slip cover of heavy chintz, denim, or rep. "You see that chair," said one country house owner, a few months after settling in his new home. "Sallie has thrown out every stick of furniture we had when we first went to housekeeping except that. She keeps moving it around from one spot to another but so far has kept it because I like a comfortable chair to drop down in when I come home at night. If I find it gone some day I shall know it is time for me to move on also." [Illustration: TRUE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY SIMPLICITY. NOW THE AUTHOR'S DINING ROOM _Photo by John Runyon_] The piece was an average example of the overstuffed, leather-upholstered era. It is still part of the family furnishings but it has merged quietly and inoffensively with its better born companions. Plain muslin has taken the place of the leather and over it has been fitted a heavy slip cover of sage green rep. No one exclaims over its beauty but everybody sits in it, even the most ardent admirer of the delicate Hepplewhite side chair standing nearby. This brings us to the question of whether the additions in furniture should be antiques, reproductions, or modern pieces. Again, this depends on the type of house and the taste of those who occupy it. The person who buys or builds the salt box or similar type of cottage will naturally want the furnishings in keeping. Consciously or unconsciously, he will lean towards antiques. Further, those that look best in the 18th or early 19th century farm cottage are not necessarily expensive. Simple pine pieces, made by the village cabinet-maker or, sometimes, by an ingenious farmer in his leisure hours; Windsor and slat-back chairs; low four-post beds; trestle or tuckaway tables; even an occasional Victorian piece; all, if on simple lines, fit into such a house as though made for it. One of the many advantages of furnishing with antiques is that there is nothing final about them. If you buy a piece at a proper price and after due time do not like it or it fails to fit into your decorative scheme, you can sell for as much as you paid for it and often a little more. On the other hand, new furniture or reproductions become merely second-hand pieces as soon as you have bought and put them to use. Only at distinct financial loss can you change them in six months or a year for others. That is a good commercial reason for the growing tendency to furnish with antiques. We believe, however, that the real reason is the effect of individuality gained by the use of pieces made by old craftsmen a century or more ago when things were built to last and mass production and obsolescence were unknown terms. Several years ago, a family bought a house of the type prevalent in the region of Cape Cod, Massachusetts, "as a summer shack for three or four months in the year." The floors with their wide boards were simply scrubbed, waxed, and left in the natural tone taken on by old wood in the course of a hundred and fifty years. All trim and paneling were painted a soft apple green, and walls and ceilings throughout were calcimined a deep cream color. Curtains of unbleached muslin were hung at the small, many-paned windows. The furnishings came out of the attic of their Boston home where the contents of a great-grandfather's New Hampshire farmhouse had been stored. 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. Calcimined walls and near-antique furnishings are, naturally, not the only means of producing a homey effect. Their chief merit lies in the fact that they are effective, inexpensive, and easily changed. No matter how pleasing the tone, plain calcimined walls will probably pall after a while, but by that time the home owner will know whether paper or paint is the better treatment. With an old house, either is historically correct. The earliest were, of course, primitive affairs with walls of rough plaster or feather-board paneling in natural wood color. By the 18th century, paint was already being used for decorating both. Here the wall treatment was not limited to a plain color but was varied by stencil designs. A geometric pattern was usual. Then came wall papers of geometric or scenic design. Thus, it is for the householder to decide just what manner of decoration he wishes to live with. For instance, a paneled room may be finished in the natural wood or painted. The latter was customary in colonial days as life became easier and money more plentiful. Personally we consider painted paneling, trim, and other woodwork pleasanter and less monotonous to live with day in and day out but that is a matter of individual taste. In the last analysis it is not what his neighbor likes, it is what the home owner himself wants to live with that really matters. In choosing wall paper, one is limited by the type and size of room to be so decorated. You may have a weakness for the old French scenic papers depicting, in large squares, historic or sporting events. These are most effective in the large central halls of the more formal country home but produce a distinctly odd appearance in the tiny, low-ceilinged rooms of the story-and-a-half farmhouse. Here small patterns and designs that tend to make the rooms look larger must rule. Over-fussy curtains and draperies at the windows should also be avoided. We well remember an otherwise charming little place where the use of color and type of furnishings was most skillful. One experienced a curious sense of gloom and stuffiness, though, even at midday. A glance at the windows explained it. They were of the 18th century farmhouse type and into their 42 by 28 inch dimensions had been crowded the modern roller shade, fussy ruffled dimity curtains and heavily lined chintz draperies surmounted by a six-inch valance! With all these, the aperture left for light and air was limited indeed. An able interior decorator could have controlled the over-zealous drapery buyer or she could have found out for herself by a little independent study of proper window treatment for a house of that type. In other words, whatever the kind of house, remember that windows are intended to let in light and air. Both constitute excellent reasons for living in the country. Proper curtains and draperies lend a softening and pleasing effect but, as in a stage setting, they are only props and must not be allowed to dominate the scene. Further, in furnishing or decorating any house it is an excellent idea to try and visualize the type of furnishings two or three generations living there would normally have accumulated. We have already alluded at some length to the farm cottage type because, like the common people, they are more numerous. But in the old country neighborhoods there was nearly always the man of affairs who knew how to make money and was prone to build a house "as handsome as his purse could afford." He was the squire of his vicinity and his house surpassed all others in size and ornamental detail. If you have acquired such a house, its furnishings must be in accord. Handsome antiques and ambitious reproductions go well in such a setting. Or it may be that your fancy runs to an ultra modern structure with interior decorations and furnishings in keeping. Your house is then its own ancestor and only time will determine whether such a scheme wears well. Whatever you choose, take the furnishings best suited, arrange them as pleases you, and proceed to live with them. If you like the general effect and are one of those people who like things to stay put, probably one can enter your living room fifteen years hence and find the wing chair from the Maritime Provinces still standing in the northeast corner with a small tavern table on the right; the hooked rug with geometric center still in front of the fireplace; the Sheraton table with mirror over it at its accustomed place between the two south windows; and so forth. On the other hand, if you are of the restless type, instead of throwing everything out and beginning over again, you will have periodic attacks of rearranging, realigning certain accessories, adding something new, or discarding some item bought in an emergency for something more in keeping with your changing ideas or manner of living. We confess that this is one of our pleasantest pastimes. It takes very little to start us off. An old Pennsylvania Dutch cupboard, stripped down to the original blue and inducted into an apple-green dining room, obviously calls for a fine orgy with paint and whitewash; a gilded Sheraton mirror or another oil painting involves general commotion and often complete rearrangement of the living room. All this is very painful for those who don't like change; but, for us, it helps to answer the question so often propounded by innocent city visitors, "What do you do with yourselves in such a quiet spot?" THE FACTORY PART OF THE HOUSE [Illustration] _CHAPTER XII_ THE FACTORY PART OF THE HOUSE The Early American kitchen was the most important room in the house. Here the family spent most of its waking hours. Here the food was cooked, served, and eaten; the spinning and weaving done; the candles for lighting the house poured into molds. It was the warmest room in winter and around its hearth the family gathered both for work and recreation. Cheerful and pleasant it undoubtedly was, but there was little idea of making work easy or saving steps. Today we may furnish our living rooms in the 18th century manner, put 17th century dressers in our dining rooms, and hang Betty lamps and other quaint devices around the fireplace; but when it comes to the kitchen, we step forward into the 20th century and are well content. We have heard of enthusiasts who occasionally cook an entire meal in a fireplace and insist that it is far superior to any done by modern methods; but even these devotees of old ways pale at the thought of three meals a day, three hundred and sixty-five days in the year, so prepared. Today's kitchen, stripped of accessories and talking points, is essentially a laboratory where semi-prepared food stuffs are processed for consumption. The automobile industry has demonstrated to the nation what remarkable things can be done by having labor conditions and proper tools on a logical train of production. With no waste of human effort, no running back and forth, work starts at one end of the assembly chain, and off the other, in about two hours, comes a new car. In the same way, a properly planned kitchen eliminates waste steps and, with plenty of light and air, becomes a pleasant place to work. In this domestic laboratory, one expects, of course, to find a cook stove of some sort, a sink, a refrigerator, a kitchen cabinet or compounding bench, a table, and plenty of storage space. With the assembly idea in mind, have these so planned that the work of cooking three meals a day progresses logically from the service or delivery entrance to the doorway of the dining room. Be sure, too, that added working space is available in the event of dinner parties or larger forms of entertainment. The saving on tempers, fine china, and glass will be well worth it. In other words, have this most important working room compact but not too small. As an example we cite another of our own errors in judgment. Having been brought up in a house with a large old-fashioned kitchen where the luckless cook walked miles in performing her culinary duties, we went to the other extreme. The room originally designed for the kitchen with its large old fireplace and sunny southern exposure was immediately chosen for the dining room. Directly back of it was the old pantry which, without benefit of architectural advice, we decided to fit up as a kitchen. It was a good idea except for the fact that the room was really too small, especially for the type of hospitality that rules in the country. To be sure, by moving a partition a little and by remodeling a small lean-to that adjoined it, sufficient storage and working space was added to make conditions tolerable; but it is at best a makeshift and the answer is, eventually, a properly designed service wing, architecturally in keeping with the 18th century but mechanically modern. Even under these makeshift conditions, however, the assembly idea has been followed and this somewhat mitigates the drawback of contracted space. The most important tool in a kitchen is obviously the cooking range. Here the country dweller has a choice of bottled gas, electricity, or oil as fuels. What he decides to use may depend on personal preference, availability, or cost of installing and operating. Where service is dependable and a reasonable cooking rate prevails, there is no better method of cooking than by electricity. Clean, odorless and easily regulated, its advantages are obvious. But no electric light and power company can afford to run its cables underground in the country. The service lines are on poles and extend over a large area. Nature has no regard for the convenience of either the company or its patrons. A thunderbolt may knock out a transformer, or a tree may be blown down and carry nearby electric lines with it. Repair men are continually on the job with a well-run company and work speedily and faithfully but they cannot be everywhere at once. Service may be interrupted for ten minutes or for several hours. In such emergencies, it is well to have a stop gap, such as an inexpensive two-burner oil stove. It may not be used more than twice a year but it is there when needed. The devotees of the tank gas method of cooking are many. It works the same as gas from city mains except that your supply is piped in from an individual tank which is installed outside the house and replenished monthly by the company supplying such fuel. The initial cost plus installation and operation about equals that of electricity but no cataclysm of nature will cause it to fail. Cheapest of all is the kerosene oil stove. These range all the way from the modest two-burner table stove to the pretentious six-burner type with insulated oven and porcelain finish. Gasoline burning ranges are also to be had on this order. The initial cost of even the most elaborate oil or gasoline stove is considerably less than for one designed for either electricity or bottled gas and the expense of operation is also less. But they have certain disadvantages. With the best of management there is a slight odor. If out of adjustment they smoke or go out and they are unpleasant to clean. Further, although we struggled with one for seven years, we never found any satisfactory means of broiling meat with oil as a fuel. No family relishes the idea of having porterhouse or sirloin steaks taken right out of their lives, so some other device is necessary, such as a charcoal broiler or the old-fashioned, long-handled broiler held over the fireplace coals or, in winter, those of the furnace. One may argue brightly that meat cooked by these primitive methods has a superior flavor, but it is definitely veering away from the assembly idea and most certainly does not make for harmony in the kitchen. If a charcoal broiler is employed, somehow it never reaches the proper state of incandescence at the right time. If the fireplace is the scene of operation, it is invariably a roaring inferno at the time the steak should be cooked. One waits for the desired bed of coals, of course, while ominous head shakings and rumblings from the kitchen proclaim that the rest of the dinner is done, is dried up, is ruined. Twenty years ago coal or wood burning stoves were usual in country homes. They were disagreeable to tend and in summer made an uncomfortably hot kitchen. But that same heat was most acceptable in winter weather. For a kitchen not too well heated by the main house system, there are ranges that combine coal and electricity. Thus, in winter they serve the double purpose of a cooking tool and heat producing unit and also help reduce the electric light bill at the season of the year when it tends to be heaviest. [Illustration: ENTIRELY NEW, BUT WITH ALL THE CHARM OF AN OLD HOUSE _Robertson Ward, architect_. _Photo by Samuel H. Gottscho_] Where electricity is available, the problem of refrigeration is simple. Of course, the initial cost of a good electric refrigerator may easily be more than double that of the ordinary icebox, but the cost of operation is very small and food losses are materially cut down. The old method of refrigeration calls for only a moderate outlay for a box, but delivering ice three or four times a week to the average country home involves heavy overhead for the local ice dealer and he must therefore charge accordingly. If one must depend on ice, however, there is an improved box now on the market so constructed that it needs to be filled but once a week. It operates on much the same principle as the mechanical box as far as keeping an even temperature is concerned. With the various storage cupboards, closets, and cabinets that make up the furnishings of this culinary assembly plant, there are sundry built-in units, widely pictured, written about, and advertised. What type you will have is a matter of personal taste. The main thing is to be sure they are well built and conveniently located. The kitchen sink may also be of any type you prefer but let there be light where it is hung. A window directly over it will make for cleaner dishes as well as less breakage. Another ounce of prevention for the latter is considered by many to be the sink lined with monel metal. It is fairly soft and yielding so that a cup or plate is not readily shattered if accidentally dropped in it. With porcelain sinks, one may use a rubber mat designed for the purpose or one can be careful. If the service wing plans do not include a laundry, a set tub with cover forming one of the drain boards is practical for the occasional small pieces washed at home. Along with the sink may be installed an electric dishwasher, depending, of course, on whether the family considers its benefits equal to the expense involved. If mother is to do the work, it may be warranted; but where her efforts are limited to one or two sketchy meals on Thursdays and Sunday evenings, one might well interview the person who is monitor of the service wing the bulk of the time. Dishwashers, cake mixers, complicated fruit juice extractors, and similar gadgets are all excellent but they are not essential. Many servants do not even want them. A few years ago we tried to introduce an orange squeezer designed to hang on the wall and operate somewhat on the principle of a pencil sharpener. We showed it to our houseman who regarded it glumly. "I'll try to use it if you insist," he finally said, "but I can work faster with that glass one from the ten cent store." These little playthings are all right but you can seldom get the help to use them. A kitchen should be well equipped with standard implements and cooking utensils, but before putting in expensive labor-saving devices one should be sure that they really save work and that the proposed operator will appreciate them enough to make their purchase advisable. The essentials of a kitchen are plenty of light and air; enough space for working under all conditions; well arranged and adequate equipment; pleasing, easily cleaned wall surfaces and floor; and plenty of hot water. There are several methods of obtaining an adequate supply of the latter. It is automatically taken care of where the house is heated by an oil burning system. With a coal burning steam or hot water plant, there is now a cylinder that can be attached to the boiler below the water level. In it there is a coil of copper pipe through which circulates the domestic hot water supply. This works admirably. There is always a sufficient supply but it is never so overheated as to scald the heedless person who plunges a hand under a boiling stream of water. During the warm months, however, a supplementary means of heating water must be at hand. Electric water heating, again, involves the least supervision and is to be recommended if one can get a low enough rate. The initial expense is a sizable item, though; and if operated at the usual rate per kilowatt hour, the monthly charge can easily be double that of other fuels. But many companies make a special rate for such devices and under such circumstances the operating costs compare favorably with those of coal and oil. Another excellent device is the little coal stove built especially for the purpose. It requires only a small amount of fuel daily but, of course, must be faithfully tended. This type of stove may also be adapted for burning range oil. Here the drudgery of shoveling in coal and taking out ashes is replaced by that of daily filling the two-gallon oil tank that feeds it, periodic cleaning of wicks and burners, and consistent adjusting of burner and draft to meet changing weather conditions. There are also the kerosene oil heaters having a copper coil through which the water circulates in heating. These may or may not be equipped with an automatic attachment. They likewise require daily filling and occasional cleaning of both wick and copper coil. They are easier to adjust than the other variety but the action of the blue flame on the copper coil causes a slight disintegration which over a long period of time may cause a leak. When that happens no mending is possible, not even of a temporary nature. The family goes without hot water until a new coil is put in or a complete new heater substituted. Obsolescence is a term high in favor with American industry; and only too often when one goes seeking a new part for a machine with a decade of good service to its credit, one is met with, "Oh, we don't make that model any more. We might be able to locate a stray coil but it would take about two or three weeks." The disgusted home owner naturally goes out and buys another kind of heater, one without a copper coil. Whether or not a laundry is part of the service wing depends, of course, on how much of that type of work is to be done at home. There are two points of view here. Some households prefer to scoop the family linen into a bag, make a list, and hand it over to a commercial laundry. Others find a dependable laundress nearby or provide facilities for doing the work at home. The clear air of the country and easy drying conditions influence many towards the latter course. Like the kitchen, the room set aside for this purpose should have good light and air as well as easily cleaned wall and floor surfaces. There should be at least two tubs as well as a washing machine and a small ironing machine. There should also be space provided for indoor drying of clothes since, even in the country, a week of stormy weather is not unheard of. Some kind of a stove is also necessary for any needed boiling of clothes, making starch, or the like. Servants' quarters should be cheerful, light, airy in summer and comfortably warm in winter. They may be part of the service wing; they may be on a separate floor of the main section of the house; or, if the garage is part of the house, located over that. For best results they should not be in too close proximity to the rest of the family. In the country, servants are more confined to the scene of their labors than in the city. Consequently they need and like a certain amount of privacy as well as a place to relax and see their friends. In addition to bedrooms and bath, a sitting room of some kind is most practical. It need not be large or expensively furnished. A few comfortable chairs, a table or two, possibly a desk and a good reading lamp will suffice. A small radio also adds to the general contentment. In summer if the service wing boasts a screened porch so much the better. If not, some shady nook or arbor nearby where they may rest or read during their spare time may mark the difference between sullen service, frequent change of personnel, and the perfect servant who remains year after year. PETS AND LIVESTOCK [Illustration] _CHAPTER XIII_ PETS AND LIVESTOCK Few country households are content with a bowl of goldfish. Something a little more responsive is demanded where the peace and quiet of nature press so close. A cat to drowse on the hearth or catch an occasional mouse; a dog to accompany one on walks and greet the head of the house ecstatically each evening; these, of course, are the most obvious and popular pets. Both can be and are kept in city apartments and suburban homes but their natural habitat is the open country. Whether one or both become part of your household is, of course, a matter of personal inclination. There are those who have an intense aversion for cats. There are fanatical bird lovers who argue that because they once knew a cat which killed a bird, the entire feline family should be wiped out. However, from the number of sleek specimens seen dozing on porch or terrace through the countryside, it is safe to assume that the average household harbors at least one cat. There is no room here for a treatise on why people keep cats. Besides, we do not know. We only know that cats were always about the place when we were young and that some sixteen years ago we rescued a half starved Maltese kitten from a city pavement and kept her until she died of old age about a year ago. She had beautiful green eyes and a very short temper. She also upset several preconceived theories. One is that a cat is attached to a place rather than people and that it is difficult if not impossible to take it along when moving to an old place. Our cat was approaching middle age when we acquired our country home. Yet after a few inquiring meows and a minute inspection of the new place, she settled down contentedly. Further, during the years that followed, she made at least two trips a year to the city for sojourns of varying lengths. Inquiry among other cat owners has revealed that this is not at all extraordinary. In fact, this type of animal can become just as attached to its owner as the more flattering and responsive dog. Nor do all cats kill birds. The average house cat is too indolent to hunt anything. Our own imperfect but individualistic animal was a mighty hunter of field mice but showed little or no interest in the birds flying about above her. They have built their nests for years in arbor and summer house unmolested. But a real killer of birds is hard to dissuade. One can of course remove the bird from its jaws and administer a sound whipping but it is by no means certain that anything much is accomplished by so doing. One cannot argue with a cat. He is the one animal man has not been able to subdue. Possibly therein lies his fascination. Also, barring a few bad habits, he is little trouble and is a distinct ornament. The dog can be a faithful companion or the worst pest on earth. Which he is, depends on his environment and training. He may be had in many breeds and sizes from the most expensive and delicate specimens down to the mongrel with a League of Nations ancestry. Incidentally, the most benign and intelligent of dogs is often some middle-aged hound of doubtful lineage who can tell your blue ribbon winner how to get about in the canine circles of the countryside. Pick the breed you prefer but have it in scale with your place. You may have had a secret longing for a St. Bernard or a Great Dane but if you have settled your family in a little saltbox house, it is going to be a little crowded when something only slightly smaller than a Shetland pony starts padding restlessly up and down stairs or flings his weary length down in the middle of the living room rug where you must walk around or over him to turn on the radio or answer the telephone. One member of our family has always wanted a cheetah or hunting leopard. This desire is likely to go unfulfilled. These beasts are easily domesticated and are gentle and affectionate. They appear to have the best characteristics of both cat and dog. They are no more expensive than many a thoroughbred dog. Yet we shall not have one. Not only is the climate of Westchester County, New York, too unlike that of their native India for them to thrive, but consider the task of soothing terrified tradesmen and casual visitors. One may explain that although appearances are against him he is not really a leopard but just an overgrown cat. They will not believe it. They will not even hear because they will be a mile down the road. Other people must be considered even in the country. So pick your dog and train him up in the way he should go. You may prefer one of the terrier breeds. They are bright and lively and make good pets but must be taught not to dig holes in the carefully groomed lawn. It is as natural for them to delve for underground animals as for a setter or spaniel to flush birds. Retrievers are usually gentle, well disposed animals and not only make good pets but are excellent in a family where hunting is a diversion. Very popular just now in this class are the spaniels, especially the cockers. They have beauty, an affectionate disposition, are most intelligent and are excellent watch dogs. They fit into nearly any household large or small. With the larger dogs there is, of course, the collie as well as his ancestor the old-fashioned shepherd. Here we would say a good word for a much-maligned dog, the police or German shepherd. Only recently since the Seeing Eye has demonstrated their keen intelligence and sense of responsibility in guiding their blind owners, have they begun to come into their own again. Even now there is an impression abroad in the land that they, like the timber wolf they so much resemble but are _not_ descended from, are sly treacherous brutes with a particular delight in taking a piece out of the unwary stranger. It is true that when first brought to this country they had no little trouble in adapting themselves to conditions here. In their native Germany they were what their name implies and as working dogs covered miles daily. They ate coarse food and slept in the open either on the ground itself or a small heap of straw. Obviously such a dog cannot be shut up in cramped quarters and given almost no exercise without his disposition being somewhat affected. They are highly intelligent animals and for the country dweller with two or more acres, make affectionate and satisfactory pets. They have a keen sense of guardianship, are fine watch dogs and show but little tendency to roam. The latter is an excellent trait for if you wish to remain on moderately pleasant terms with your neighbors, train your dog or dogs to stay home. Worrying the cat of the man who lives just at the bend in the road to the south, or killing the chickens of the neighbor to the north, will not aid in establishing friendly relations. Barking at passing cars is not commendable nor is the tipping over of a neighbor's garbage can and scattering the contents about. These are bad habits and should be corrected if your pet is to be any real comfort to you. Patient and intelligent training will mark the difference between a friendly well-mannered dog and a spoiled brute that even your most humane friends yearn to cuff. When it comes to the matter of other livestock in this venture of farming-in-the-little, the new owner is either treading unknown or forgotten ground. Dogs and cats, even canaries and white rats, were familiar enough in the city. He has read books on their care and training. He has consulted veterinarians and fanciers but until now the sources of his daily bottle of milk or his carton of graded eggs have been matters of indifference. The venture with livestock may begin with chickens and end with saddle horses, but it is nothing for the uninitiate to enter into lightly or unadvisedly. Personally, we prefer to let the farmer down at the end of the lane wrestle with the recalcitrant hen and temperamental cow. He has summered and wintered with them for years and knows the best and the worst of them. If there is a way to make them worth their keep, he knows it. If his cow generously gives twelve quarts of milk and we can use but two, it is no concern of ours what becomes of the other ten. For the country dweller, who feels that life is not complete without livestock of some sort and follows that by acquiring a barnyard menagerie, we would recommend that he enter upon his course cautiously. This is assuming that he knows little or nothing of farming either by theory or practice. If, on the other hand, he has been reared on a farm, he understands perfectly how to care for the various animals and the labor entailed in doing so. He is in no need of any admonition from us, and who are we to offer it? But for the average person who is just beginning his experiment in country living, a few chickens are suggested for the initial attempt. There are two ways to embark on this. With either, it is well to subscribe to a good farm journal. Consult that or the farmer down the road as to breed. As rank outsiders we suggest a well established and hardy kind. Then, the easiest way for the novice would probably be to buy full-grown chickens that are just beginning to lay. They are old enough to know their way about and any dry, well ventilated shelter that is proof against thieving skunks, weasels and similar wild life, will be adequate for them along with a chicken run with a high enough fence to keep them within bounds. For this type of fowl is no respecter of property. Not only does it take delight in working havoc with its owner's flower beds and borders but those of his neighbor as well. They also eat incessantly. The optimistic friend who has never kept chickens, but thinks it a marvelous idea, will tell you that scraps from the table will take care of all that and even save you the garbage collector's fee. Such a person is still living back in the 1890's when food was cheap and seven course dinners and hearty suppers were the rule. Today's orange skins and banana peels are no diet even for a chicken. So, one must buy feed for them. This should be offset in a measure by the eggs normally laid by well-fed and tended pullets. Also as time goes on and setting hens hatch chickens, which in turn become eventually broilers or fresh producers of eggs, according to results you will decide whether or not you want to continue in the chicken business. Another method widely advocated is to buy week-old chicks from a mail order house or other firm dealing in such stock and bring them up without aid of a mother hen to gather them under her wings. Here a brooder is necessary since the chicks are of tender age and must be kept warm. These brooders are of varying sizes and prices and may be had from the same mail order houses that are glad to sell the chicks as well. This is more complicated than the other old-fashioned method but a little guidance from some one understanding the procedure along with consistent care on your part will probably bring a majority of your brood to broiler size. Taking on a cow to support is a much more serious thing. Not only does a well-bred, tuberculin-tested animal cost a fair sum to acquire, but she must be comfortably housed in a clean, comfortable cow barn. Bulletins from the Department of Agriculture will give the requirements not only for her shelter but for her proper care. She needs at least two acres of pasturage and this can't be all stones and bushes. She must be milked morning and evening without fail and at regular hours by some one who knows how. She must be groomed. Her stable must be cleaned regularly. When the yearly calf is born one must sit up nights with her. All this, if she is to remain in good condition. In gratitude for it she will give milk, three or four times as much as a small household can consume. Possibly a market can be found for this excess or one can turn to butter making and add a pig to the barnyard family. Even this accommodating scavenger cannot live by skim milk alone but must have it augmented by corn or prepared feed. He must also have proper shelter and a run. Thus does one thing lead to another, once one gets beyond the chicken stage of farming. It is obviously nothing for the daily commuter to attempt unless he is prepared to pay for the services of a competent hired man. Farming even on the smallest scale is a full-time job in itself. The tired business man will find it a toil or a pleasure. The daily chores involved are relentless and unending. A business appointment in town is no excuse for their non-fulfillment. They must be done at a regular time, if not by you by some one else. Of course, with a family where there are three or more small children, keeping a cow can be both practical and economical. With the normal table and cooking uses the milk given can be consumed without difficulty. Further, the expense of maintaining would probably fall much below the monthly milk bill under such circumstances. For this purpose, select one of the Jersey or Guernsey breed which gives rich milk rather than quantity. For the family that can afford and enjoy saddle horses, it is pleasant to have them, but with their advent the country home becomes still more complicated. There must be a stable with somebody to tend and groom the horses. They must be exercised too, which means systematic riding rather than an occasional canter on just the ideal day. Also with even one horse, if a need for economy arises it is not always easy to dispense with him. He is flesh and blood and, humanely, you cannot just sell him to the first buyer who presents himself. You must be assured that your mount will be well-treated and not abused. We have known of several instances where a number of excellent saddle horses were given away by owners, who felt that they could no longer afford to buy their oats and hay, but wanted to be sure the animals would be well cared for. So, before acquiring horses, contemplate the up-keep and make sure you are prepared to maintain them whether business is good, bad, or indifferent. For the first year or two a much wiser course is to turn to the neighborhood riding stable and rent. These have become standard institutions in many vicinities and they frequently afford not only excellent mounts but sound teaching for those who know little or nothing about the finer points of riding. TIGHTENING FOR WINTER [Illustration] _CHAPTER XIV_ TIGHTENING FOR WINTER The wolf of winter was the arresting phrase originated several years ago by no less a practitioner of the art of advertising than Bruce Barton, to drive home the merits of adequate domestic heating. But no matter how efficient your heating system may be, unless the country home has been made ready for the cold months, insufficient heat and excessive fuel bills result. Against this, there are a number of simple things the home owner may do himself or have done. Nobody begrudges money spent for fuel that keeps the house at a comfortable, even temperature. In the days when six dollars bought a ton of the best anthracite coal and the pea and buckwheat sizes were sold as waste products, it may have been a matter of small importance that certain spots in a house leaked heat and let in cold. Besides, in an era when windows closed tightly with the first cold blasts of fall and remained so until spring, such ventilation was probably a life saver. But at the present high prices for either coal or fuel oil, these points about the house where heat is lost and winter cold crashes the gate should be taken seriously. With a new house, of course, everything possible in the nature of built-in metal weatherstripping and thoroughly insulated exterior walls were included by the architect when he prepared plans and specifications. But even he may have ignored one of the most practical means of conserving warmth. This is a set of storm windows and doors carefully fitted so they open and shut at will, yet are snug enough so that little cold penetrates. These are remarkable conservers of heat. Measured scientifically, the amount that escapes by radiation through ordinary window glass is amazing. The storm window reduces this to a minor percentage because the dead-air space between the two thicknesses of glass acts as an efficient means of insulation. Storm doors and windows are now made in stock dimensions that fit practically any frame. Quantity production has made their price so moderate that the saving on fuel for a single winter can exceed their initial cost and the labor of fitting and putting them in place. Such windows and doors should be properly marked, like the screens that replace them in summer, with numbering tacks so that, each fall, they may be put in proper place without confusion. The system is simplicity itself. A duplicate tack bears the same number on the sill of each window and on the upright of each door. This is a real saver of time, for so small a variation as half an inch in width or height can make the difference between doors and windows that really fit and those that leak air. Such proportions vary even with a new house. The only requisite for such a complement of double doors and windows is a proper place to store them during the summer months. Being largely of glass, if they are not put away carefully, the breakage can be both annoying and needlessly expensive. So it is well to provide a special compartment, located in the garage or other convenient place, where these may be placed when not in use. Similarly, the same section may be used in the winter for door and window screens as well as garden furniture. Except for the new country house or one that has been completely remodeled or renovated, each succeeding fall brings minor repairs. These ought to be undertaken during those cool crisp days of fall that precede freezing weather and penetrating winter winds. They will vary with age and state of repair but they begin with the cellar and progress upward to the attic. Unless your house is unusually ailing, probably not all of these will be necessary but at least there should be a careful examination and diagnosis. Here is the list. [Illustration: SNOW HAS DIGNITY, BUT IS THE HOUSE SNUG AND WARM? _Photo by Samuel H. Gottscho_] Repoint the foundations, inside and out, with a rich cement mortar to seal any cracks through which the wind might penetrate. A late October or early November day when there is a high wind is ideal for this work. As one goes over the inside of the foundation, the searching cold blasts will reveal the crevices that need attention. Mark each one with a wooden splinter as fast as they are found. When all four walls have been thoroughly inspected, the work of closing these cracks can be done as a single operation. Except for a solid brick or stone house, inspect the point at which the sills rest on the foundation walls. The fillet of mortar may have come loose or cracked in places. Any such breaks should be repaired. Before leaving the cellar notice the windows. Does cold air leak through joints of sash and frame? If so, make them tight with batten strips or, if very loose, calk them with oakum. The window through which coal is delivered, of course, cannot be sealed so thoroughly as it may have to be opened now and then for additional fuel. Weatherstripping it as well as the hatchway door is advisable. Some houses built on side-hill sites have at least one cellar wall more exposed than the rest. Where this condition exists, it is a real economy to cover the inside of it with insulating material. Either special plastering or fiber-insulating board can be used, as individual conditions warrant. At the same time any water pipe that is close to an outside wall should either be re-located or insulated, lest it freeze some day when it is abnormally cold or a high wind is blowing. Freezing cold air blowing through a fine crack in an exterior wall acts about as does the flame of a welder's torch, only in the reverse. The flame cuts by melting; the cold air solidifies the water in a pipe and sometimes does it so thoroughly that a cracked pipe is the result. From the cellar one now goes to the attic. Are windows in place here and weather tight? How about end walls and the under sides of roof? If not insulated, your house can lose a quantity of heat at these points. Remember, heat rises and, after a storm, if the snow on the roof of your house melts quicker than on those of your neighbors, it is a clear demonstration that you are wasting heat by letting it ooze through certain minute apertures. Another way to combat this upward radiation is to pour a loose, featherlike insulating material into the space between the attic flooring and the plaster of the bedroom ceilings. As it comes in bags prepared especially for this purpose and is very light, sometimes it is only necessary to raise a small proportion of the attic floor boards and the insulating material can be spread evenly through these openings. There remains still a major escape for heat, the fireplaces. If each is equipped, as is customary with all built during the last half century, with a cast-iron damper that closes the throat when not in use, make sure it is in working order. Sometimes such dampers get clogged with soot and fail to close tightly. For older fireplaces the problem varies. Some can have a throat damper installed; others are of such size or shape that it is not practical. With the latter, if the throat is not too large, it is possible to stuff it with tightly packed newspaper, first crumpling the sheets to make them bulky. The large fireplace, once the scene of all family cooking, generally has an opening into the chimney so large that there seems to be but one practical way to treat it. This is the use of the time-tried fire board which fits tightly into the opening of mantel and shuts off the fireplace completely. This causes much lamentation each winter in our own household, as the picturesque effect of the fine old fireplace with swinging crane is blotted out by a none too ornamental expanse of board. But it is so fitted that it can be readily removed any time a fireplace fire is desired. When not in use such a cavernous avenue for escaping heat must, of course, be closed. No heating system can compete with it. Stand beside such a fireplace for a moment and the cold breeze swirling out from it will convince you. Nothing is more uncomfortable in winter than cold and drafty floors. Much of this can easily be corrected by closing the cracks, usually found in older houses, between flooring and walls at the baseboards. Generally quarter-round molding, carefully fitted and securely nailed is sufficient but occasionally wide, uneven cracks have to be closed with oakum, putty, or crack filler before the molding is put in place. Again, if the cellar has no plaster ceiling, a drafty floor can be remedied by lining the under side of the flooring with felt paper or like material. Lastly, inspect the heating plant. Has it been cleaned and put in order since last season? If not, it should be done without fail, for no soot-clogged furnace or encrusted boiler can work properly. You are simply wasting fuel and effort if you neglect them. Out of doors, there are several minor things that can make or mar a winter in the country. Be sure the faucets used for the garden hose are disconnected and drained. There is probably a drain valve in the cellar for this. If your water supply is a shallow well, notice the location of the supply pipe. If it extends to within four or five feet of the top, some sort of covering must be placed over the latter to prevent cold winter winds searching it out. A cover of wall board with a small opening for ventilation is easily fitted to it and will avert later trouble. It is far from amusing to awake some zero morning and find the house without water because the well pipe has frozen. It can be thawed with a blow pipe but that means calling a plumber or a handy man who happens to have a tool of this sort. One such experience will keep you from forgetting or neglecting to provide a well cover. Similarly, if you are in doubt whether the pipes from water source to house are below the frost line, a carpet of leaves about two inches thick on top of the ground along the course of the water pipe, will obviate any such unhappy event. Thawing a frozen pipe plainly visible in the well is child's play compared to the task of arguing with any underground. Once, such pipes had to wait for nature. Today, they can be thawed very skillfully with special electrical equipment, but not cheaply. The standard charge ranges from $20 up, mostly the latter. The family living in the country will also find that cold weather puts a great strain on the automobile. A car that has worked perfectly all summer simply refuses to start, and the storage battery that operates the self-starter is exhausted and powerless. The sensible course is to have the car put in condition for winter before the first cold snap congeals the crank-case oil. Replace the latter with one of lighter grade; have the radiator filled with a good anti-freeze in sufficient quantity so that you will be safe on the coldest days against the hazard of a frozen radiator; have the ignition system thoroughly overhauled and new spark points put in the distributor. Most important of all, get a new storage battery if the one you have is more than a few months old. This course of action saves annoyance, is better for the automobile, and less expensive than calling for garage help some abnormally cold morning when many others are also in trouble and you must wait your turn. Don't take just anybody's advice when changing to lighter and more freely flowing motor oil. Go to the service station handling the make of car you drive and have it done there. They will know which is the right grade. We once almost ruined a car by following a layman's advice. With our own hands we refilled the crank case with oil that was rated as S.A.E. 10 and was perfect for the light car of our well-intentioned adviser. Unhappily the lightest suitable for our make and model was S.A.E. 20, practically twice as heavy. Fortunately we burned no bearings before our error was discovered and so learned a valuable lesson more cheaply than we deserved. Keeping the radiator protected against freezing is not complicated. Nearly any filling station has the necessary hydrometer. To be sure the anti-freeze liquid has not evaporated unduly, have the radiator contents tested about once in two weeks, particularly after several days of abnormally warm weather. For real safety, it is wise to have any automobile radiator filled with enough of the compound so that its freezing point is fully ten degrees colder than the lowest temperature expected. There are two reasons for this margin. It allows for a slight percentage of evaporation and for a certain peculiarity of country highways. There are sometimes points on the road where, for some reason, the actual temperature is a full five degrees colder than elsewhere. We have seen many cars steaming and boiling in such places. We have once or twice been in the same unhappy situation and know that thawing a radiator so frozen is slow work, requiring blankets and plenty of patience. A word as to the clothing especially designed for the cold of the country. Wool-lined mittens may seem to hark back to sleighbells and buffalo robes, but driving a spirited span hitched to a cutter was a summer occupation compared to steering an unheated automobile ten miles on a below zero morning with ordinary gloves. Mittens are not graceful but in them the fingers are not confined and therefore do not chill as quickly. Further, do not scorn the good old-fashioned arctics. Get the high four-buckle kind. They afford real protection against cold and snow and a pair lasts for several years, particularly in the sections of the country where snow and abnormally cold weather are intermittent. Sweaters and woolen mufflers should also be part of the added equipment, for nothing makes for such misery as getting thoroughly chilled for lack of adequate outside clothing. A walk or a drive becomes then just an endurance test. We have one last warning. The mitten and overshoe theory may seem to you but a sad sign of approaching age and debility--and so none of them for you. Granted they are not needed except for abnormal weather, some bitter cold evening you may arrive home with fingers, or ears, or toes frostbitten. Don't under such circumstances go into a warm room before you have thawed them with snow and vigorous massage. When you do go into the warm atmosphere continue to treat the bite with cloths wrung out in ice water. Otherwise, this simple winter casualty may be as serious and painful as a bad burn. KEEPING HOME FIRES IN THEIR PLACE [Illustration] _CHAPTER XV_ KEEPING HOME FIRES IN THEIR PLACE In the good old days before the United States had a record of one fire every minute of the twenty-four hours, grandfather and his father before him considered that a good citizen paid his poll tax, served on juries, and patrolled his home for fire. Going to bed without banking fires in stoves and fireplaces was unthinkable. The rest of the household also had a proper respect for lighted candles and other possible fire breeders. Of course, under this simpler mode of living, light and heat were generated within view and what is seen cannot be readily ignored. Then came the development of modern household conveniences. Furnaces and steam plants took heating below stairs; electricity replaced candles, lamps, and gas fixtures; and the old cook stove gave way to modern ranges of various sorts. The safer and easier the devices, the more human vigilance relaxed. Today, of our half billion dollar fire loss annually, one-fifth of it occurs in the country, and over sixty per cent of residential fires start in the cellar. Of course, every home has certain fire hazards but they can be reduced to the minimum by a few elemental improvements and precautions. Some call for slight additions to the house equipment; others are simply the old-fashioned art of self-fire policing. This program of little things starts in the cellar and ends in the attic. Here is the list. Don't let piles of rubbish and papers accumulate in cellar, attic, closets, and like places. Provide a metal container with hinged cover for storing inflammable polishes, cleaning fluids, chemically treated dust cloths, mops, oily cloths, and the like. Make sure they are put there when not in use, instead of being tossed into some convenient "glory hole." Use metal containers also for hot ashes and the daily accumulation of papers and trash. Be certain that electric wiring fuses are in good order. Pennies behind burned-out fuses are a misuse of good money in more ways than one. Inspect the cords of all electrical appliances and portable lamps. If they are frayed or broken, replace them. Speaking of appliances, the simple flat-iron in the hands of a careless or absent-minded person probably causes more fires than all the other more complicated work-savers combined. For stage-struck Seventeen, then, moodily pressing her pink organdy while mentally sweeping a triumphant course through a crowded ballroom in a sophisticated black model from Paris; or for dark-hued Martha who thumps out on a luckless shirt the damage she plans to inflict on a certain Pullman porter when he shows up at her back door again, provide an iron that cannot over-heat. With a thermostat that turns current on and off, it and the ironing board can remain forgotten for hours. The electric light company may benefit but no fire will result. Equip fireplaces with screens that fit. If the hearth has begun to disintegrate from many fires, it is time to renew it as well as loose mortar. Mount stoves or Franklin fireplaces on metal-covered, asbestos-lined bases. Don't put a rug over the register of the pipeless furnace. It will cause dangerous over-heating and the effect will be disastrous rather than decorative. Be sure no draperies are near open flames such as candles and portable heaters. If you have gas or keep any quantity of kerosene or gasoline, don't examine containers by match or candlelight. Use an electric flashlight and turn it on _before_ going near such explosives. These dangers may seem obvious but it is astonishing how many times that faulty mechanism known as the genus homo has been guilty of just such follies. If rubbish is burned on the grounds, use an incinerator. It keeps loose papers from blowing around and starting an incipient blaze in some cherished shrubbery or in the grass itself. I once lost a fine row of small pine trees in such a manner. They would have provided an ample screen from the main highway, had I exercised a little care with my miniature bonfire. Install portable fire extinguishers. They are inexpensive. One to each floor with an extra one for kitchen and cellar is good fire insurance. Be sure every member of the family knows how to use them. Nearly all fires start in a small way and a shot or two of liquid from one of these machines usually extinguishes any but the most stubborn blaze. Sometimes, however, outside help is needed. So post the number of the nearest fire department prominently near the telephone. Make sure every one knows where to call, what to say, and how to give clear and distinct road directions. These are little things. Yet houses have gone up in smoke for want of their application. I know of one instance where a competent but city-bred house man was sent to open a country house for the summer. In the course of the day an oil stove in the kitchen was lighted. The man went to get some drinking water. He returned less than five minutes later to find a corner of the room was in flames. There was no extinguisher at hand and his bucket of water was as nothing. There was a telephone in the house and a fire department equipped with a high-powered chemical machine was less than six miles away. Unhappily the man neither knew of its existence nor how to direct it to the place. By the time he had found help and the department had finally been summoned, it was too late. Neighbors and firemen alike could only look on at a magnificent bonfire, piously lamenting the loss, of course, but getting a vicarious pleasure out of the spectacle. As an example of foolhardiness on the part of the owner it is perhaps beyond comment. Against it I know of another family that goes to the other extreme. In addition to taking the fire precautions suggested here, they have tacked a small typewritten notice on the back of the front door. It reads: "STOP Is the furnace checked Is the water heater out Is the range turned off Is the oil heater upstairs out" This little evidence of fire-policing has amused many of their guests, but their house is still standing and the fire insurance inspector performs his annual duties in a perfunctory manner after reading it. Unless there are glaring defects in chimney construction, electric wiring, or furnace flues, these simple details and a reasonable amount of old-fashioned caution will practically keep home fires in their place. For those who wish to cut the fire hazard still further there are more elaborate precautions that involve some rebuilding and renovation. Whether any or all of them are advisable is a matter for the owner and his architect to decide. [Illustration: AN IMPOSING COUNTRY HOME OF CLASSIC DIGNITY _Robertson Ward, architect_. _Photo by Samuel H. Gottscho_] If a fireproof cellar is wanted, cover the ceiling with metal lath and a good cement plaster. This should extend up the stairway, and the cellar door should be of fire resisting construction. Firestopping all exterior walls and interior partitions not only cuts down fire risk but adds greatly to insulation from both heat and cold. Fires that originate in the cellar frequently travel upward in the dead-air spaces behind lath plaster. For houses already built, the best means is to pack the walls with pulverized asbestos. There are contractors who specialize in this work and have equipment for doing the job quickly with minimum cutting and inconvenience. An electric fire detector in the cellar acts much like a burglar alarm. There are several now on the market. The principle on which they work is thermostatic. Sensitive to increased heat, an alarm bell sounds the moment fire develops. The White House has one of the most elaborate systems of this sort, which was installed shortly after the executive office fire of a few years ago. Checking chimneys comes next after leaving the cellar. All chimneys should rest on a solid foundation in the ground. Those carried on wooden beams are never safe. The normal settling will produce dangerous cracks in the joints of the brickwork. Likewise, unused stove-pipe holes should be closed with bricks and mortar cement. Chimneys connected with open fireplaces ought to be equipped with spark arresters. These are simply bronze or brass wire of sufficiently fine mesh to catch any sparks. Placed at the top, they also serve to discourage chimney swallows from nesting in the throat of an old-fashioned chimney, to the doubtful pleasure of the occupants of the house. For the roof there are slate and non-burnable shingles as well as a system by which weather boarding under wooden shingles can be replaced with panels of fireproof plaster sheathing. If there is any doubt regarding the condition of electric wiring it will be real economy to have a licensed electrician inspect it and replace any which is obsolete or not in accord with insurance regulations. Also, if steam or hot water pipes go through flooring or are close to the wooden trim, there should be at least three-quarters of an inch clearance. Otherwise, the heat dries and carbonizes the wood. Then slight additional heat may produce spontaneous combustion. Then there are more elaborate rebuilding projects such as installing a fire sprinkler system in the cellar. A built-in incinerator located in the cellar with chute opening in the kitchen is excellent for the immediate disposal of trash and rubbish. Two stairways connecting living and bedroom floors are always better than one. Either stairway should be accessible to any bedroom. An emergency doorway will make this possible. If the garage is attached to the house it should be lined with a fire resisting material. Metal lath and plaster or a good grade of plaster wall board is preferred. The door between house and garage should, of course, be fire resisting and self closing. There is one other refinement which the country house owner may take into consideration, especially if he happens to own an historic old house. That is the installation of a system of perforated pipes in the dead air spaces behind all walls connected with storage tanks of carbon dioxide under pressure. If a fire breaks out, turning on this system will flood the house with a gas that will smother all flame. Mount Vernon is a notable example of a house so equipped. So much for the more or less man-produced fire hazards. There is, however, the occasional fire that comes down from heaven. The National Board of Fire Underwriters has proved by careful investigation that a properly installed and maintained system of lightning rods will give a house ninety-eight per cent protection. It does not prevent the building from being struck, but it does provide an easy and direct path to earth for the lightning discharge, thus preventing damage and destruction. This has nothing to do with the old school of lightning rod salesmen trained in medicine show methods. Proper equipment and competent men working under inspection by the Underwriters Laboratories are now available. Incidentally, radio antennae should be properly grounded and have an approved lightning arrester. There is one more possibility of disaster from lightning. Ordinary wire fencing mounted on wooden posts can become so highly charged with electricity during a thunder storm that no living thing is safe within thirty feet of it. Proper grounding is again the remedy and is relatively simple. At every fifth post an iron stake should be driven deep enough to reach permanent moisture. Connect this to the fencing by a wire tightly wrapped around the stake and each strand of the fencing. This causes the electricity generated during a storm to escape harmlessly into the ground, just as it does through the cables of a properly installed set of lightning rods. WHEN THINGS GO WRONG [Illustration] _CHAPTER XVI_ WHEN THINGS GO WRONG With life in the country, there are times when the innate perverseness of the inanimate asserts itself. For one accustomed to city conditions this is almost a paralyzing experience. There is no apartment house superintendent to call on, no repairman just around the corner. In itself it may be very simple; but what to do, how to do it and with what tools, unless you have gone through the mill, is soul-searing. So, almost as soon as you have established your sources of food and fuel, address yourself to the problem of discovering the neighborhood handy man. Not all men of the usual mechanical trades can qualify. Such a jewel must have native ingenuity, really enjoy coping with sudden emergencies and, like the old-fashioned country doctor, be possessed of a temperament that accepts sudden calls for help as part of the day's work. He may have planned to take his family to the village moving picture show; but if your plumbing has sprung a leak, your pump has suddenly ceased to function, or any one of a dozen other contingencies has arisen, nothing is so comforting as his assurance that "he'll be right over." You know that within a reasonable time this physician to things mechanical will arrive in his somewhat battered automobile with an assortment of tools and supplies adequate for the majority of minor domestic crises. Sometimes he can repair the damage permanently then and there. Sometimes his service is of a temporary nature to tide your household over until the proper correction can be accomplished either by him or some other artisan whose specialty it is. At the moment this makes little difference. Several summers ago, our water supply failed most inconsiderately just at dinner time. There was plenty of water in the well and the electric pump was functioning but the storage tank was bone dry. What was wrong was beyond our understanding. Worst of all, our village plumber could not be reached even by a fairly resourceful country telephone central. We called our handy man and were greeted by a cheery if long suffering, "What's the matter _now_?" We told him and most assuringly he replied, "Sounds like foot valve trouble. I'll be right over soon as I finish supper." And he was as good as his word. Half an hour later he was listening to a pump that could not lure water from well to tank. Then he went down the well and, without aid, came up with the supply pipe. "Here's your trouble. Leather of the foot valve's gone. I'll just cut another." He dived into the rear seat of his car and returned with a square of sole leather. Using the old leather as a pattern he cut a new one with a sharp jack knife and before dark the supply pipe was back in place and the artificial drought was broken. Thanks to the skill and willingness of this all-essential neighborhood personage, there was once more water for dishwashing and family needs. This is but one instance of how he has come to our rescue and through the years taught us many things that we can now do for ourselves. Although not over-skillful with tools and things mechanical, we have learned that doing them is sometimes the quickest and easiest way out of our difficulties. Some, of course, were beyond the limits of our simple abilities but we hereby enumerate some twenty of the more common difficulties that may arise inopportunely with country living, and what to do about them. A sudden break in electric service leaves your house dark. The answer to this is a supply of candles and one or two kerosene lamps filled and ready for use, as well as at least one electric flashlight, in working order and hung in its appointed place. Often before the various lamps are assembled and lighted, electricity will again be available; but if service is interrupted for several hours, as occasionally happens with a serious break in the line or real trouble at the power house, you will have cause to bless the auxiliary lighting. Having it to depend on just once will well repay the trouble of making it available. Be sure, also, that you have at least one complete set of extra fuses to repair the damage of a short circuit caused by defective appliances or lamp cords. Never, never put a penny into a fuse socket. Next to light, the most important creature comfort is water and plenty of it. The most common causes of failure lie with the pump itself. If one of the deep well type gets out of adjustment, repairing it is a professional job and unless you are unusually expert, don't attempt it. Telephone for a plumber or handy man. But with the shallow well pump, you can, in a pinch, replace the leathers that make the valves exert the proper suction. In any case, it is good sense to have an extra set of the leathers always on hand. Near our own pump there is a glass preserving jar half full of neat's-foot oil and, pickling in it, a spare set of pump leathers just waiting for something to happen. We also have a box of assorted faucet washers. It is over a year since we have had to replace one; but when a faucet suddenly refuses to close, we know where the proper valve is located so that we can shut off the water long enough to replace the troublesome washer, usually the work of a few minutes. Then there is the heating system. Here the most common demonstration of temperament is sulkiness on a heavy damp day. In any event, provided the fire is free from clinkers, we have a standard remedy. An average-sized electric fan is placed before the open ash pit door. Set in motion, its breeze provides a forced draft and, in from fifteen minutes to half an hour, our furnace fire is once more glowing and throwing out heat. Also, the country house owner, who discovers that furnace or fireplace flues which have heretofore functioned properly are smoking, should investigate the circumstances without delay. The troublesome flue may only need cleaning, or a dislodged brick or other obstacle may have blocked it. Whatever the cause, the chimney should have immediate attention, for excess soot is the common cause of chimney fires. If an excess odor of coal gas indicates that the fumes are filling the cellar instead of going up the chimney, open the hatchway and as many windows as possible. Then check the furnace completely. Investigate the cause of the trouble and you will find that the smoke pipe connecting the furnace and chimney is out of place. Don't try to replace the dislocated pipe until the cellar is thoroughly aired, for furnace fumes can be almost as deadly as those exhausted by an automobile, for the same reason, the presence of carbon monoxide gas. So when working on the pipe be careful to retreat out of doors on the slightest feeling of faintness or other disturbing symptom. The safest way is not to attempt to replace the smoke pipe until the furnace fire is out. There are one or two other things down cellar that can go awry when least expected. One of the most common is flooding caused by abnormally heavy rains and leaks in foundation walls. Look first for these where the pipes from the eaves, known as down-spouts, reach the ground. Provide dry wells, troughs, or other means to carry this rain water away from the foundation. After your cellar flood has either evaporated or been pumped out and the foundation walls are dry inside and out, repair the cracks through which this water trickled, as well as others that might have contributed to the trouble. Use a rich cement to which has been added the proper amount of water-proofing chemical. One cannot be over-zealous in this, for a flooded or even damp cellar is always a hazard. Under no circumstances attempt to turn on electric lights if you are standing where it is wet or damp. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred all that can happen is a mild electric shock but there is always the one chance in thousands that by so doing you may be your own electrocutioner. It is safest to have all cellar lights controlled by one or more switches at the head of the cellar stairs; but if there is a light that must be turned on in the cellar itself, leave it alone under conditions of standing water and be sure the fault is rectified before the next heavy rain can cause a repetition. Just as storms can make trouble below stairs, roof and eaves may develop faults. Where the roof is of wooden shingles, one of the usual causes of leaks is a cracked shingle. When this chances to be directly above a slight space left in laying the roof for expansion between the shingles of the next course, rain, instead of flowing off the roof, runs through this crack and wet plaster results. This does not mean that the roof must be re-laid if otherwise tight and sound. Get a sheet of roofing tin or copper, locate the troublesome crack, and gently insert a piece of the sheet metal, trimmed to the right size, beneath the cracked shingle. Properly done, you should not find it necessary to nail the piece of sheet metal because the shingles themselves will hold it in place. While making this repair, be careful not to walk on the roof more than is absolutely necessary. Your weight and the pressure of your feet may crack other shingles. It is better to work from a ladder. This should have a large iron hook that will catch on the ridgeboard and keep it from slipping. It also distributes the weight of the man making the repair. Sometimes eaves, instead of providing drainage and conducting rain from the roof to ground, work in the reverse. The dampened plaster of the interior side walls soon betrays this. When these spots appear it is probable that the opening where the down-spout joins the eaves-trough is clogged with leaves and small twigs. Remove this plug that has gradually accumulated round the strainer and once more rain water will flow merrily and noisily down the spout. Also, in winters of unusually heavy snowfalls and cold weather, if the eaves-troughs are hung too close to the edge of the roof or have not sufficient slope for rapid drainage, the snow on the roof melts, drips to the eaves-trough, and freezes before it can flow away. Eventually some of this moisture creeps beneath the shingles and makes ugly damp patches on the plaster beneath. Immediate relief can be had by mounting a ladder, clearing the trough of the ice, and thawing the frozen down-spout with salt and kettles of hot water. Later, the permanent remedy is to have a practical roofer rehang and adjust the eaves-troughs. Because of the very nature of winter weather, there are other distressing things that may happen to make life in the country just a little bit less enjoyable. The first of these is the possibility of an old-fashioned blizzard that may block roads and cut off the country dweller from the usual source of supplies. Before the days of the automobile, one could travel roads several feet deep in snow with horse and sleigh. An automobile has its limits and is more or less impotent in more than two feet of snow on a road unbroken by a powerful plow. So, if the oldest inhabitants can remember the winter of 18-- "when we had snow to the top of the fence posts," it is a wise precaution to have an emergency supply of canned foods on hand. In February, 1934, we were snowbound for three days but lived in comfort, thanks to a minimum reserve supply and, by a happy coincidence, liberal marketing done the morning the storm began. Several neighbors took to snowshoes and skis and so made their way to the nearest store to replenish essentials like milk, meat, eggs and the like. Winter sports are a great institution, but trudging two miles for a quart of milk across a countryside waist deep in newly fallen snow is too great a mixture of business and pleasure. Similarly, a medicine cabinet stocked with the primary remedies, and a physician whom you know sufficiently so that you consult him by telephone, are wise precautions against sudden crises of weather or health. Of course, if a member of your family is seriously ill, your doctor will come with all haste when summoned. But he is a busy man who often works from before breakfast until nearly midnight covering unbelievable distances in his automobile. So, if you can report illness clearly, give exact symptoms, and have a stock of the simple medicines that you can administer as he directs, both the sick person and the physician gain. Present-day country doctors show their appreciation for such cooperation by the speed with which they reach patients whose symptoms indicate more than a minor ailment. But all the emergencies of country life are not serious even though they call for action. There are scores of little things that the house owner can do for himself. Take rats and mice. They will get into the most carefully built and best run house. When this happens it is a matter of either traps or the new scientific poison baits that domestic pets will not eat. There is also the old farm method of mixing equal parts of plaster of Paris and corn meal, an entree harmless in itself but with fatal results for the invading rodent. In summer there is the possibility of a plague of ants. For this there is now a cheap and scientific liquid bait that works rapidly. In summer, also, come those occasional nights of abnormal heat when no breeze stirs. Bedrooms stay hot and sleep is difficult. For this, set an electric fan on the floor of each room, pointed toward the ceiling, with a chair before it to serve as a barricade. The current of air so produced dislodges the hot air in the room that is above the level of the window openings and also provides a mild breeze that does not blow directly on a sleeper. By actual tests with an accurate thermometer, the temperature of a bedroom can be lowered a full five degrees. It is this difference between 80 and 85 degrees that can make an otherwise stifling night bearable enough for refreshing sleep. Also at the time you want it most, usually with the house full of week-end guests, the hot water supply turns tepid. The means of heating the water is functioning properly but the storage tank is cold. When this happens, unless all water piping is of copper or brass, the chances are better than even that your tank is clogged with rusty sediment. This does not mean a new tank. It is just a matter of draining and flushing until most, if not all, of the sediment is washed out. Turn off the pipe that supplies heater and tank. Then with garden hose attached to the faucet at the base of the tank, drain out all the water that will come. For a thorough job unscrew this faucet and the piece of pipe connecting it to the tank. Then turn on the water supply quickly for two or three minutes at a time so that a sudden flow of clean water disturbs the sediment. At first it may be almost as thick as a heavy soup but gradually the water will become clearer. When it is normal you can replace pipe and faucet, relight the water heater, and forget your hot water supply for at least a year. Of course, it is better to undertake this chore when you are without company, but one must have hot water and, at that, the operation should not take over an hour. Perhaps some of the guests will be big hearted and offer to help. A plaster ceiling appears to fall without warning. Actually, if you are observant, weak spots can be detected before they reach the falling stage. A slight bulge that gives if you press it upward gently with the fingers is an unfailing indication that the plaster has begun to loosen and that possibly the laths beneath are also loose. The best method of correcting this is, of course, to engage a plasterer. He will remove what is loose and probably much more. Then, having replaced the defective or old lath, he will re-plaster and a properly finished job will result. There is, however, another course of action. It is neither permanent nor as good but it will bridge a gap when the family exchequer can ill afford the luxury of a plasterer and his helper. This is an old farm method of economical stop-gap repair. Take some new coarse muslin. Make a strong solution of glue sizing; wash the calcimine or whitewash from the ceiling where it is weak; paint with a coat of the size; and when it is almost dry, spread the muslin on like ceiling paper having first dipped it in the size. When the cloth is dry, re-calcimine the ceiling. Such work is not according to the best standards of journeyman work but we have known a ceiling so strengthened to remain in place for some years. This unorthodox trick was taught us by the neighborhood handy man whose praises we sang earlier. Another was the practice of binding a water pipe, that had developed a tiny pin-hole leak, with the black sticky fabric known as friction tape used by electricians. It held for half a year until it was more convenient, financially and otherwise, to have our plumber replace the leaking pipe. Incidentally, knowing how to thaw a water pipe that has, as countrymen say, "just caught," on some abnormally cold night is also an accomplishment of ingenuity. Too much heat applied too rapidly can crack a pipe. So such work should be done in moderation. Be sure the faucet of the stopped pipe is open. Then, locate the spot by sense of feel. It will be much colder than the rest of the pipe. First try wrapping it in cloths wrung out in hot water. If this does not produce results, gently pour steaming but not boiling water on the pipe from a teakettle. Stop after a minute or two to let the applied heat become effective. If necessary, repeat several times. For stubborn cases, an electric heater directed at the frozen spot can be used effectively. When hunting for the seat of trouble look at the spot where the pipe comes through the floor. A crack between flooring and baseboard may be the air leak that has caused the trouble. Next examine the pipe along an exterior wall or in the direct range of a window. Frozen pipes concealed in partition walls, unless they are accessible through a panel of removable woodwork, are not for the amateur. They are for a plumber who will know how to reach the trouble without doing other damage. Many are the expedients that life in the country and friendly chats with your own handy man can teach you. Some of them you will discover for yourself, for necessity, the mother of invention and country living, often presents minor emergencies that the house owner must meet and conquer for himself. That is part of the fun of living in the country. You have escaped the stereotyped city where such things are the concern of apartment house superintendents. In the country it is each man for himself. WORKING WITH NATURE [Illustration] _CHAPTER XVII_ WORKING WITH NATURE In the home owner's dream of country life, green lawns, rose gardens, and shady terraces have loomed large; but in the actual fulfillment, his house has of necessity come first. Beyond a sketchy clearing up of the most obvious debris, he may well come to the end of his first summer with practically nothing done to the grounds themselves. This is not entirely a disadvantage. It has been shown how too much may be done to a house in the first fervor of remodeling or restoration. It is the same with the land surrounding it. The old adage, "Begin as you can hold out," is an excellent rule to follow. One of the advantages gained by living in an area just beyond the suburban fringe is that one's two, five, or ten acres may be developed as much or as little as one desires or can pay for. This holds whether you have built a new house in the middle of a former pasture or have restored an old one with grounds well developed but long neglected. [Illustration: SKILLFUL PLANTING OF TREES, SHRUBS, AND FLOWERS MAKE THE SETTING _Photo by Samuel H. Gottscho_. _Robertson Ward, architect_] Of course, you will not lack for advice from friends and acquaintances, most of the people who have never grown anything more extensive than a window box. They will tell you that the old lawn that has withstood the tread of feet for more than a century is uneven and must be plowed under, re-graded, and a special kind of lawn-grass sown. The driveway is all wrong, too. Turn it back into lawn and build a new one winding through the field to the left where the family cow was once pastured. They are also kind enough to suggest that a plowing, grading, and seeding of this additional acre or so will give you a piece of greensward worth having. A lily pool and sun dial garden would go nicely over there to the east, and how about that hollow place over in the south corner for a swimming pool? All this and much more can be suggested but it is surprising how little of it is practical. Even long neglected grounds seldom require as thorough a job of face lifting. A lawn free of hollows is difficult to achieve and almost impossible to maintain. Nature does not do things that way, so work with her rather than against her. It is surprising how old and seemingly worn-out grounds respond to kind treatment. Study them first before doing anything. Take stock of existing trees, shrubs and the like. Notice the contour of the land. Then make a simple landscaping plan. This, well thought out, will give direction to the eventual development of the plot of ground you have in mind. Work gradually. If you are reclaiming an old place, remember the original owner did not achieve everything in a week or a year. Nature cannot be hurried. It is true that, if one desires shade trees and cannot wait for them to grow, experts can bring full-grown ones from their nurseries and plant them in the positions you designate. Such practices run into money, however, and would hardly come within the average family budget. Let us suppose that the home owner finds himself in possession of a house of uncertain age and between ten and twenty acres of land. Unless he is prepared to maintain a miniature conservation corps, he will not attempt to keep over two acres in active cultivation. Even with those he will not push back the wilderness in one season. The first step is a careful inspection of the grounds around the house. If they have been neglected for years, he may find practically anything except grass growing. If the average tenant farmer has lived there any length of time, the area at the back lying at easy tossing distance from the back door may contain a wealth of tin cans, bottles, broken dishes, and other debris. These, of course, must all be picked up and either carried away by the rubbish collector or otherwise disposed of. We have read of clever people who managed to persuade members of their family and any visiting friends that such an undertaking could be made into a sort of treasure hunt and one's grounds cleaned painlessly and without added expense. It did not work with our family. A cache of twenty-five fine rusty cans nestling under the lilacs elicited nothing beyond a mild query as to the likelihood of lily of the valley thriving in the spot. So we hired the man whose family had spent ten long years accumulating the debris, to clean the half acre surrounding the house and he made a very neat workmanlike job of it. Afterward he commented on the improved appearance, especially of the back yard. "Yes, it looks considerable better," he said, "but of course I couldn't keep it that way. I'm a poor man and my time is worth sixty cents an hour. I can't afford to spend any of it picking up after myself." His philosophy is apparently not uncommon and one may expect to find anything on the land from rusty scythe blades to broken down farm wagons and automobiles. After these have been removed the place will look decidedly improved even though a mossy growth under the maples denotes sour soil, and burdocks and milkweed in the back indicate good soil gone wrong. Along with ridding the grounds of rubbish comes the question of what to do with the various outbuildings. Those that can be put to practical use should be repaired and their foundations pointed up. Any others should be torn down as a dilapidated structure of any sort is not only unsightly but a breeding place for rats. As this ordinary cleaning and furbishing progresses, the new owner begins to get really acquainted with his place and discover what exists in the line of shrubs, trees, and vines. There may even be a few flowers that have survived years of neglect. If he is wise, he will prune and preserve all these as a nucleus. Around them he can build his general landscaping plan. Preserve old trees wherever possible. Even those that appear so stricken by age and neglect as to be ready for firewood often take on a new lease of life after a good tree surgeon has ministered to them. A long neglected lawn, or even a field that has been allowed to run to tall grass, can be reclaimed quite simply. Go over it early in the spring with a heavy roller to get rid of minor hollows and general unevenness. Thin, worn spots, where it is obvious that no grass has grown for years, should be fortified with a load or two of good top soil, rolled and planted to grass seed. Other spots, usually under shade trees where there is the mossy growth of sour soil, should be sprinkled liberally with lime. Repeated treatments will soon correct this condition and grass can again be made to grow there. As soon as the grass is of proper length begin to cut it with the lawn mower. Also, continued applications of the weighted iron roller throughout the spring will gradually improve the general contour and make for smoothness and ease in lawn mowing. This is strenuous work both for the lawn mower and the person operating it. The former will probably be nearly worn out by the end of the summer, so in choosing this tool get a good but not too elaborate one. Later, when the grounds are in good condition will be time enough to indulge in the better grades of hand or even power driven lawn mowers. Likewise, we do not recommend the task of either rolling or breaking in a lawn to a man who has led a sedentary life for years. It will be cheaper in the long run to engage a muscular individual in the locality who understands and is accustomed to such work. Whether such an one is engaged by the hour, day, week or year, we would add a word of warning based on our own blundering experiences. Beyond being sober, honest, and willing, make sure he is strong enough for such heavy work, that he is reasonably intelligent and, most important of all, that he is not "working to accommodate." The latter is frequently voiced by members of decadent native families who resent the curse of Adam and like to assume that any gesture toward the hated thing, called work, is purely voluntary rather than necessary. If these words fall from the lips of a man you are considering for odd jobs and tilling of the soil, leave him severely alone and look for a good energetic individual who knows he was made to work and is glad of it. Otherwise, the "accommodating" one will condescendingly show up for work an hour late, regard you with a pitying smile as you outline the job, and then allow that of course you are the boss but you are going at it all wrong. When, after lengthy discussion of how an intelligent country-born person would arrange matters, he senses that the evil moment of going to work can no longer be put off, he directs his lagging steps to the spot where the tools are waiting. These he regards with blackest pessimism. His attitude is that only a city moron would provide such poor things but, of course, he will do the best he can with them. In the course of the day he gets a little work done but in such sketchy fashion that most of it must be done over. Nor does he improve as the days go by. When you decide to part with him, probably soon after your first inspection of his work, you will get a fresh shock at the size of his bill. Such people have an exaggerated idea of the value of their services. It is difficult to get them to name a price at the beginning; and in the rare cases where a set sum is agreed upon, the final reckoning will invariably include certain extras or a plaint that "the job was different than you claimed and I don't do heavy work like that for nobody without I get extra pay and I was just working to accommodate--" and so forth. Usually you end by paying him and charging it off to experience. This does not mean that there is no good local labor. It is just a matter of determining which man is actually "a good worker" and which would rather lean on a hoe and tell how the country ought to be run. You can avoid much labor turnover and unsatisfactory work if you first ask a few questions of substantial members of the countryside who are in the habit of employing such men and therefore know their good and bad points. One man may be strong and willing but so stupid and clumsy that he destroys more than he earns; another may be deft, ingenious, have an uncanny way with flowers and vegetables, but yet have such an utter lack of responsibility that one cannot depend on him for any length of time. Assuming then that a good, dependable man has been found who understands and has a liking for the soil, the task of helping nature to bring out the best in your grounds progresses to those parts afflicted by such rank weeds as burdocks, thistles, milkweed, poison ivy and the like. Weeds with the long tap root like burdock and yellow dock can be eliminated best with a mattock. With one sharp blow, cut the root two or three inches below the surface. Then pull up the top and toss it aside where it will wither in the sun. What is left in the ground also dies and will not sprout. A Canadian thistle is really a handsome sight especially in full bloom but it is a thoroughly unpleasant weed and must be eradicated. Dig up each plant with a spading fork or sharp shovel and leave it to wither in the July sun, its roots shaken free of earth. Milkweed is persistent but will finally yield if the stalks are consistently pulled up as soon as they are three or four inches tall. For poison ivy there is one preliminary. Be sure you are not one of the people readily susceptible to its poison. If you are, leave this luxuriant parasite alone and let some one else struggle with it. Its poison is most virulent in the spring when the leaves are just unfolding. Later in the summer it is not so treacherous. Tearing it up by the roots, burning over old stone fences infected with it, keep it from overrunning a place; but the most satisfactory method of eradicating is to sprinkle the vines with sodium arsenite. This, by tests at various agricultural stations, has lately been found a sure means of killing this most unpleasant of all vegetable pests that infect the countryside. Along with getting a reasonable expanse of green grass, the simple landscaping plan already referred to should be kept in mind. If you have but a vague idea concerning this and, as time goes on, tend to become more confused and undecided as to what kind of flowers, shrubs, and vines would be most suitable or how they should be arranged, consult the best nurseryman in your vicinity, if he has not already visited you. All of the larger nurseries now have on their staffs experienced landscape architects. Many of them are recent graduates of the recognized schools in this field and, for the asking, you can have a simple landscape plan for your grounds. Such nurseries do this, of course, in expectation that if the plan is accepted the needed small trees, shrubs, and hardy perennials will be bought of them. In fact, when the plan is submitted, it will probably be accompanied by a tentative list of the needed plants. These you can buy either delivered ready for planting, or a somewhat higher price will include this service by men from the nursery. In the latter case, the nursery usually guarantees that everything supplied will live for a year or be replaced without charge. Personally, we have found that the nearer home we bought nursery stock, the better were its chances of living and thriving. There is no adjustment to different climatic conditions and such plants and shrubs are only a very short time out of the soil before they are planted in your grounds either by you or the man sent from the nursery. Nearly always they put their roots down and continue growing with little or no interruption. The matters of gardens, flower beds, and borders again depend on the contour of the land and how it can best be related to the house. Further, unless you are well versed in gardening, it is best to get advice as to the flowers and plants that thrive best in a given spot. It is discouraging to lay out a rose garden or a modest border of hardy climbers and find you have picked just the wrong place for them to thrive. It is the same with certain perennials. Rock gardens are most picturesque and lend themselves to a large variety of hardy and interesting plants. The most successful are those where nature supplies the framework. One of the loveliest we ever saw had originally been a pigsty. Halfway up a hillside two large boulders jutted out and below them a rocky formation descended in shelf-like steps to a level surface. Ingenious planting and patient care transformed this into a mass of color and bloom that has been admired for miles. Its owner has gradually expanded it and has even added rocks dug from a neighboring field. The farmer who supplied them shook his head resignedly. "Well, I've lived in these parts a long time and seen plenty of queer things. I can understand paying a man to dig out rocks but this is the first time I was ever asked to dump them on good land." The formal garden is usually part of the development of the very ambitious country estate. Such grounds are the result of plans prepared by a practicing landscape architect, engaged on a fee basis as with other architects. According to the arrangements he will prepare the plans or he will also supervise their execution. While there are some remarkable formal gardens in America, beautifully designed and kept in perfect condition by skillful gardeners engaged by the year, most homes do not have such sophisticated settings. Popular indeed is an area of well-kept lawn surrounded by naturalistic plantings of trees, shrubs, and hedges that give privacy and frame the whole. Add to this borders of flowering plants, annuals and perennials, and from spring to late fall such a spot becomes an outdoor living room. Here the family spends most of its time. Real enthusiasts eat many of their meals here. As for the vegetable garden, keep it small. The new country dweller's first garden is usually three times the size needed or that he can take care of. Vegetables have a way of either producing nothing or bearing in such abundance that the average family is swamped in plenty. Whether or not the excess is canned, depends on the time and energy of the housewife or her cook. With green vegetables now available the year around, there are two schools of thought as to the real economy of home canning. There is even plenty of controversy over the question of a family vegetable garden. Some hold that after the normal charges for fertilizer, seeds and labor are met, any vegetables that may result actually cost far more than if bought in the retail market. To this the pro-gardenites retort that the charges for seeds and fertilizer are small and that a certain amount of struggle with spade and hoe is good for a man who has spent all day in a stuffy office. Let him do his own spading, cultivating, and planting. A half hour or so every evening will keep the garden free of weeds and, in due time, vegetables fresh from the garden will result. They will be superior in flavor and will actually have cost less than even the largest chain stores can afford to sell them for. Out of ten years' experience, we can only state that both are right in a measure. Whether or not a vegetable garden pays, breaks even, or goes into the red, depends to a large degree on the owner himself. If he has a flair for making things grow and has a definite amount of time to devote to them, his garden will not only thrive but pay dividends. But if a business trip is imperative just at the time the garden should be planted, or some pressing engagement causes him to defer transplanting his cabbages and his tomato plants beyond the proper time, he must either get some one to take care of his garden or do without one. There is a lure, however, to having your own vegetables, so most of us close our eyes to any distressing figures on the household ledger and go ahead and have a garden anyway. One busy man compromises by having his garden prepared for planting by a local man of all work who also keeps his grass cut and his borders trimmed. Then he plants a few easily grown and tended vegetables, such as lettuce, parsley, string beans, carrots, spinach, crookneck squash, tomatoes, and corn. Around these, like a border, he plants showy annuals like zinnias, cosmos, calendula, marigolds and so forth. His garden is a colorful, attractive spot. He has vegetables for the table and plenty of flowers for cutting. The latter preclude any argument over whether his garden pays since, oddly enough, the subject of a flower garden never seems to take a mercenary turn. Distinct additions to the kitchen garden are an herb bed, a few rhubarb plants, and an asparagus bed. The latter, because it takes time to become established, seems difficult but laying out a proper bed is not so hard. Also, in two to three years the plants will have reached the stage where the larger stalks may be cut for consumption. At first this should be done judiciously in order not to kill the plants but after another year or two the bed will yield consistently. After it is well established, it provides the first home-grown vegetables of spring and bears for about six weeks. Afterwards all it requires is an occasional weeding and fall mulching with fertilizer and leaves. As for the tools that keep gardens and grounds in condition, a special shed is advisable. Don't try to keep them in a tool house or section given over to saws, planes, chisels and bits. They get in a hopeless jumble. Nothing is more discouraging than to go out to what should be a tidy little spot to do a bit of mending or minor job of carpentry and find earth encrusted garden trowels, weeders, and such gear scattered all over the work bench. The grit so adhering is fatal to sharp-edged tools, while sprays, dusting powders, and fertilizers give off fumes that rust them. We would also add a few kind words for the various berries and small fruits. Except for strawberries, which must be kept weeded and replanted periodically, berries are our ideal of easily cared for fruits. Raspberries, for instance, never become really cheap in the market because of their perishable nature. Yet with the very minimum of care, cutting out old canes after the bearing season is over and keeping weeds down with a mulch of hay, a comparatively small patch of red raspberries, within three years of planting, will produce all the fruit an average family can eat or be willing to pick. The other variety, known as "black caps," are no more trouble and equally prolific. These are at their best in pie and, for the pleasures of a succession of fresh black raspberry pies each summer, we heartily recommend planting a dozen canes at the same time that the red raspberry patch is started. Blackberry canes grow so rankly and bear such brutal thorns that the annual crop seems hardly worth the torn clothing and bad scratches that gathering them entails, especially as they are to be had at such reasonable prices in the average market. Blueberries are another matter. Three or four good bushes of the kind offered by most nurseries will keep the family in blueberry pie with little effort on the part of the person who gathers them. Currants and gooseberries are easily grown but have one serious fault. These bushes harbor plant pests that work havoc with evergreens and a number of the ornamental shrubs. For that reason we long ago eradicated any growing on our place. Then there are the various fruit trees, cherry, peach, pear, and apple. All of these, for a successful yield, require consistent care and pruning. They must be sprayed at certain seasons for scale and pest or the crop will be meager and poor. With dwarf trees now grown by all nurseries, proper care can be given with simple equipment and there is no doubt that home-grown fruits that are tree-ripened are sweeter and of fuller flavor than those that come from the market. So a few of these trees may well be an addition to your country place, but plant them knowing the care required. A grape arbor is a most attractive feature and since pruning can be done any pleasant winter day, the work of tending a few vines is so small as to be hardly worth considering. In September it is a real pleasure to stray past the arbor and pluck a bunch of Niagara, Catawba, or Concord grapes and eat them on the spot. So for decoration and fruit borne, a few grape vines are more than worth the slight attention they require. By working thus intelligently with Nature, you will enjoy her bounties--and this, after all, is the supreme reward offered by a country home. [Illustration] 
33955	----	scanned images of public domain material from the Google Print archive. [Illustration: Book Cover] REMODELED FARMHOUSES [Illustration: THE CURTIS HOUSE FROM THE ROADSIDE] REMODELED FARMHOUSES BY MARY H. NORTHEND AUTHOR OF "COLONIAL HOMES AND THEIR FURNISHINGS," "HISTORIC HOMES OF NEW ENGLAND," ETC. _WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS_ [Illustration] BOSTON LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 1915 _Copyright, 1915,_ BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY. I DEDICATE THIS BOOK TO MY FRIENDS IN MY NATIVE CITY TO WHOM I AM INDEBTED FOR MANY KINDNESSES PREFACE There is a certain fascination connected with the remodeling of a farmhouse. Its low, raftered interior, its weather-beaten exterior, never fail to appeal. Types vary with the period in which they were built, but all are of interest. In this collection, which has been pictured with great care, pains have been taken to show as many different types as possible, so that the student will be able to find numerous interesting details that can be incorporated into his contemplated remodeling. In the study of this work I have grown to feel a deep reverence for the old homes of our forefathers, and have come to realize as never before the care and painstaking thoroughness of the old master builders. I wish to thank the owners of these homes who have so kindly thrown open their doors to my inspection, and who have told me the interesting stories connected with the houses. Acknowledgment should be made to _American Homes and Gardens_ for permission to use various articles of mine which they have previously published. In the contents of this book I trust there may be much of value to those who are contemplating the remodeling of a farmhouse and that the work will bring to them the same enjoyment that the study of the subject has brought to me. MARY H. NORTHEND. AUGUST, 1915. CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE PREFACE vii I. IRISTHORPE 1 II. LIMOVADY 15 III. THE KITTREDGE HOUSE 28 IV. THE CURTIS HOUSE 38 V. GREEN MEADOWS 49 VI. NAWN FARM 61 VII. BOULDER FARM 71 VIII. THREE ACRES 84 IX. THE ROBERT SPENCER HOUSE 100 X. THE DAVENPORT BROWN HOUSE 110 XI. THE DOCTOR CHARLES E. INCHES HOUSE 124 XII. THE CHARLES MARTIN LOEFFLER HOUSE 136 XIII. LITTLE ORCHARD 146 XIV. WILLOWDALE 155 XV. THE GEORGE E. BARNARD ESTATE 166 XVI. THE W. P. ADDEN HOUSE 177 XVII. THE KATE DOUGLAS WIGGIN HOUSE 187 XVIII. THE FRANKLIN BRETT HOUSE 198 XIX. THE GEORGE D. HALL HOUSE 208 XX. THE WALTER SCOTT HOPKINS HOUSE 220 XXI. HENRY W. WRIGHT'S HOUSE 231 XXII. THE HOWLAND S. CHANDLER HOUSE 243 INDEX 255 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS THE CURTIS HOUSE FROM THE ROADSIDE _Frontispiece_ FACING PAGE IRISTHORPE, FRONT VIEW 4 The Entrance Porch 5 From the Garden 8 The Entrance Porch, Another View 9 The Dining Room, and the Living Room 12 The Morning Room, and the Out-door Living Room 13 LIMOVADY, REAR VIEW FROM THE GARDEN 18 Side View 19 Two Views of the Living Room 22 The Dining Room, and the Lounge 23 Two of the Chambers 26 AN OLD CAPE COD HOUSE 27 Side View 30 The Attic Chamber, and the Living Room 31 The Kitchen 36 THE CURTIS HOUSE, THE ENTRANCE PORCH 37 Before Remodeling, and Remodeled 42 The Hall and Unique Stairway 43 Side View, and the Dining Room 48 GREEN MEADOWS, FRONT VIEW 49 An Old-fashioned Chamber, and the Living Room 56 Two Views of the Den 57 NAWN FARM, FRONT VIEW 64 Rear View, and the Living Room 65 Two Views of the Dining Room 68 The China Closet in the Dining Room 69 BOULDER FARM, FRONT VIEW 74 The Front Doorway 75 The Hall 78 The Den, and the Parlor 79 Two Views of the Dining Room 84 THREE ACRES, FROM THE MAIN ROAD 85 Front View 90 Side View 91 A Corner of the Living Room 94 The Living Room, and the Dining Room 95 THE ROBERT SPENCER HOUSE ON CAPE COD 100 Front View 101 Two Views of the Living Room 106 The Attic Chambers 107 THE DAVENPORT BROWN HOUSE 112 The Hallway 113 The Sun-Parlor or Out-door Nursery, and the Library 118 Two of the Chambers 119 The Nursery, and the Service Wing 124 THE CHARLES E. INCHES HOUSE, FRONT VIEW SHOWING THE OLD WELL 125 Before Remodeling 130 Across the Lawn 131 The Hall and Stairway, and the Living Room 134 THE STUDIO OPPOSITE THE CHARLES M. LOEFFLER HOUSE 135 THE CHARLES M. LOEFFLER HOUSE BEFORE REMODELING 138 As Remodeled 139 Two Views of the Living Room 142 The Dining Room, and the Music Room in the Studio Building 143 LITTLE ORCHARD, THE HOUSE FROM THE DRIVEWAY 148 The Angle of the Ell 149 The Stairway 152 The Entrance Porch, and the Dining Room 153 WILLOWDALE, BEFORE REMODELING, AND THE FRONT VIEW 158 The House from the Garden 159 A Rear View, and the Living Room 162 Two of the Chambers 163 THE GEORGE E. BARNARD HOUSE BEFORE REMODELING, AND THE FRONT OF THE HOUSE 166 The House from the Terrace 167 The Pergola-Porch 172 The Hall, and the Alcove in the Living Room 173 The Den, and the Dining Room 176 THE W. P. ADDEN HOUSE 177 The Stairway 186 QUILLCOTE, MRS. KATE DOUGLAS WIGGIN'S SUMMER HOME 187 The Hall 192 Two Views of the Living Room 193 The Den, and the Dining Room 196 Two of the Chambers 197 THE FRANKLIN BRETT HOUSE, FRONT VIEW 202 Before Remodeling, and as Remodeled 203 The Pergola-Porch 206 A First-floor Vista, and the Living Room 207 LONE TREE FARM 212 As Finally Remodeled, and the Sun-Parlor 213 The Living Room, and a Corner in the Dining Room 218 The Sewing Room, and the Den 219 THE WALTER SCOTT HOPKINS HOUSE BEFORE REMODELING 224 As Remodeled 225 The Living Room 228 Two Views of the Dining Room 229 THE HENRY W. WRIGHT HOUSE 236 The Living Room, and the Dining Room 237 Two Noteworthy Chambers 242 THE HOWLAND S. CHANDLER HOUSE 243 End View 248 The Hall 249 The Sun-Parlor, and the Living Room 252 The Den, and the Kitchen 253 CHAPTER I IRISTHORPE As you drove slowly along the country road, did you ever stop to consider the many possibilities for development that lie hidden in the old Colonial farmhouses found here and there? Some are situated quite a distance from the main road, while others are placed practically on its boundary line. Many of the types are disguised by the unattractive additions that have been built to accommodate the growing needs of their occupants. Others, with sagging roofs and weather-beaten exteriors, stand mute witnesses of the days when our country was making history for itself. Some of these unattractive old dwellings in their early days sheltered the most ardent patriots of our land, men whose gallant deeds have made them famous, and who now lie forgotten. Fortunately for us, these old houses were not all built in the same century, but present a variety of types which makes them all the more interesting both to architect and house owner. The age of the house is clearly defined in its design. Many of the earliest examples were framed in white pine, a wood whose lasting qualities have been plainly shown through their power to withstand the ravages of time. Others were constructed of stone or brick and are equally interesting in character. From an architectural standpoint, most of these houses, no matter how dilapidated their condition, show good lines. To be sure, these are often hidden under poor surroundings, for as the families grew larger and additions became necessary, the new parts were often badly placed. This makes it hard for an inexperienced eye to detect where the old house leaves off and the additions begin. It must be remembered that the early tillers of the soil took little interest in their homes save as shelters for themselves and families, and chose for their buildings material that lay nearest at hand. All their ready money was expended in the building of large and spacious barns to house their cattle. There is a wealth of possibilities in the reconstruction of old farmhouses that are easily recognized by the experienced eye of the architect. The study of lines which determine the size and design of the old building is most interesting and teaches a lesson in old-time architecture which is extremely fascinating. The adaptation of the house to new and different purposes, the creation of a picturesque result wholly unlike and yet following the lines of the original building, calls into play not only skilful designing but careful planning. Many of these old houses contain fine woodwork which is often hidden under layer upon layer of hideous wall-paper bought with an eye to price rather than good taste. The fireplaces are sometimes bricked up and plastered over to permit the use of a modern "air-tight"; the wainscot and molding are buried under coats of unattractive paint and give little impression of their value until the original walls and woodwork lie bare. Some houses, more especially those situated near the coast and erected during the period of commercial prosperity, were built by ship carpenters and wood-carvers during dull seasons. In these, one comes occasionally upon a wonderful old fireplace or perchance a porch that shows artistic carving. Many of these old dwellings naturally show original treatment, and it is to these that the architects of to-day turn for details to be introduced into the modified Colonial house. They were built by men who were forced to use their brains, since they were unable to turn to books for ideas. As originally built, many of them stood with their backs to the road, their long, sloping roofs sweeping to the ground, their front doors opening on to extensive farm lands. Before the door usually stood the father and mother elm, their graceful branches seeming to hover protectingly over the dwellings. Many of the trees were there when the houses were built, while others have replaced their worthy sires and contribute a bit of landscape picturing that adds much to the attractiveness of the home. In these old houses, more especially those that are past complete restoration, the architect of to-day frequently finds choice old woodwork. Sometimes it is a rare bit of pumpkin pine such as is seldom seen; again it is a fine old wainscot, or a wonderful staircase that has been saved from the ravages of time. Often some of these details are introduced into another remodeled farmhouse to replace parts too far gone to be used. The growing vogue of the country home has led to the restoration of many of these old-time farmhouses and has saved many a valuable structure from falling into decay. Fortunately the appreciation of their possibilities came before it was too late to save them from destruction, although many that could have done service were allowed to go to ruin. There are, however, many fine examples still standing, and some of these have been altered to suit modern uses. Little wonder the old farmhouse has come into its own, its attractiveness after remodeling making it available for summer or all-the-year-round uses. To-day there is scarcely a farm or country resort that does not show one or more of these old-time buildings in their new dress. Some have interesting history connected with them and are associated with legends that have been handed down from generation to generation. Often the house has been photographed to show both its former appearance and the results of the restoration. Some owners, however, have given little thought to the original structure, and it is left to the imagination to picture the house as it used to be. [Illustration: IRISTHORPE--FRONT VIEW] It was six years ago, while hunting for a place to locate a summer home, that Doctor and Mrs. Homer Gage of Worcester, Massachusetts, discovered at Shrewsbury a simple little farmhouse, showing no claim to architectural beauty. It was such an unattractive, plain, little building, that only the experienced eye could discover its fine lines. This house stood close by the dusty highway; the fence which formed the boundary line had fallen into decay, while the farm lands, run down through hard usage, showed no trace even of an old-fashioned garden, such as many of the housewives of the earlier day so loved to tend. The house was built before the Revolutionary War, being erected in 1760, and was considered in those days to be a good example of what a farmhouse stood for. Surely it was an excellent type, considering the usual lines in the New England farmhouses of that day,--this small, unpretentious dwelling, whose entrance door out of plumb and windows irregularly placed made a curious combination that was in reality fascinating and appealing. It was two stories in height, with an attic under the eaves,--a hot little place during the summer months and cold in winter, but good for storage of furniture and unnecessary household belongings. The roof had a pitch at the back and sloped to meet the kitchen, which was only one story in height. Two sturdy, six-foot chimneys had been built on one side of the house, as stoves were unknown in those days. The frame was of white pine, well seasoned, and the timber hand-hewn, with the mark of the adze plainly showing in the beams, for it was built when honest labor prevailed and was as stanch as in the days when the bush stuck in the chimney or ridge-pole showed that the carpenters' work was done. The farm buildings were connected with the main house and comprised a barn, hen-house, corn-crib, and byre, all huddled together in the most compact kind of way. It had not been occupied since Doctor Brown, the original owner, paid his last visit and left the house to its fate. The interior was not as dilapidated as in most old houses, being in tolerably good repair. And so, with little alteration, it was used as a dwelling house, while the new home which was being built near the center of the estate was erected. After the cellar was built and the foundation partly laid, the work on the new house was stopped. There was something about the old clapboarded farmhouse that appealed so strongly to the new occupants that they fell under its charm and decided not to supplant it by a modern home. But the house stood too near the road; there was no privacy and no freedom from dust. It was of such solid construction, however, that its moving could be easily accomplished. So, slowly but surely, it slid down the hill and finally rested on the foundations which had been designed for the summer house. [Illustration: The Entrance Porch] Under the direction of Mr. George Hunt Ingraham, the remodeling was begun. The old lines of the roof were left unaltered, and although more room was needed, dormers were left out in its reconstruction. Nothing, the new owners felt, could so destroy the lines of the house as to break them with intrusions such as this. The long, unbroken skyline is one of its greatest charms, and even the long slope at one side, reaching down and over the one-story kitchen ell, has been carefully retained and adds not a little to the harmonious effect of the whole structure. At the front was added a small porch showing Colonial treatment, in the center of which hang graceful vases filled with iris. The same latticed effect was carried out across the front of the house in the space between the windows of the first and second stories. On either side of the main dwelling, outdoor living-rooms were secured by the introduction of screened piazzas, the roofs of which were painted with water-proof paint. One of these living-rooms opens on to a water-garden with its arches of roses at one side of the house. It is fitted up with willow furniture, in the coverings of which is introduced the prevailing flower, the iris, which is also shown in the table cover and the shape of the vase filled with the same flowers. The opposite porch is also fitted up as a living-room and overlooks the home garden. The exterior of the house is painted white with conventional green blinds, the chimneys following the same treatment, while the windows remain unchanged. The massive stone fireplaces were not taken out, although the old kitchen chimney had to be altered slightly in order to meet present needs. The house to-day overlooks extensive grounds and is embowered in a wealth of rambler roses and iris. It resembles the old house in its lines but shows in its remodeled form a most wonderful effect and reveals what beautiful results can be obtained by correct restoration. [Illustration: From the Garden] The house is named "Iristhorpe," the name being chosen by the mistress of the house, who since her childhood has taken great interest in the iris because of a fairy tale told her by her grandmother, in which the flower was supposed to be the home of the fairies. [Illustration: The Entrance Porch. Another View] With modern methods of living, it would have been an impossibility to retain the old house in its entirety. More room was needed, and a service department was an absolute necessity, but in its enlargement such careful attention was paid to carrying out the lines of the original type that to-day it is almost an impossibility to find where the old house leaves off, and the new one commences. In the old structure, as it stood facing the main road, there were three rooms in a row on the first floor, with the kitchen ell attached at the rear, and the upper part of the house cut up into small rooms. In remodeling, these rooms were changed over into morning-room, living-room, and library, and occupy the entire front of the house, just as they did in the original building. They are connected with doors so carefully placed in line that they give one the impression of greater space than is really found at Iristhorpe. At the rear, the old kitchen was converted into a most attractive hallway and stairway, with closets and lavatory located at the farther side. [Illustration: The Dining Room] The dining-room, which is at the rear of the living-room, has been added and conforms in every respect to the original design of the old house. Back of this are the service rooms, which are admirably planned and equipped with butler's pantry, servants' dining-room, kitchen pantry, rear hall, and stairway, together with a kitchen. In the remodeling, the second story was divided into four servants' bedrooms, a bathroom, and a large sewing-room at the rear. An interesting feature is that this department has no connection on the second floor with any other room in the house. The porch door opens directly into the living-room, which has never been changed from its original place in the old house. Its central feature is the old fireplace, which has been opened at the opposite side into the new dining-room. This was originally the old kitchen chimney and contained the brick oven. It has been bricked in for modern use, and here, as throughout the house, the iris motive prevails. It is shown in the graceful andirons, in the coverings of the Sheraton wing chair, in the sofa pillows, and even in the lamp-shade. This room contains fine woodwork, which is, in fact, a noticeable feature of every part of the house, and the Colonial idea has been carefully carried out in all the furniture used. [Illustration: The Living Room] The library opens out from the living-room at the right, and from that one passes to the outdoor living-room. On the opposite side of the living-room is the den or morning-room, with glass doors which open on to the porch. Here again the iris is always the motive of decoration. In this room particularly the old paneling has been retained, as have the old strap hinges and latches, which, when missing, have been replaced by others of like design. This room was originally the doctor's office, and in the cupboard was found, at the purchase of the house, some of his old stock. One of the most interesting rooms is the dining-room, which contains an old brick oven and paneling so exactly corresponding to the character of the original that at first glance it is impossible to differentiate between them, either in age or workmanship. The window sashes, with their small well-shaped panes, give to the room an appropriate scale, and the old iron and brass hinges and latches lend an effective tone. The iris, charming in nature and no less decorative in its conventionalized form, appears here and there in the carved woodwork and always gives a delicate twist to the Colonial design it embellishes. The beamed ceiling carries out the old-time idea, while wonderful Japanese panels have been inserted in the finish over the fireplace, and huge iron andirons show an exact reproduction of the fleur-de-lis. This flower is found also in the cushions of the Chippendale chairs, the decoration of the table, the china, and in a beautiful Japanese screen of most graceful design that hides the service entrance into this room. [Illustration: The Morning Room] The white woodwork is a noticeable feature of the interior, where harmony has been so carefully maintained that on entering one feels as if he were in a really old house, rather than one restored. It should be noted that in the architectural treatment, especial consideration has been given to lighting and air; the windows have been distributed so that the light is concentrated, giving the rooms an effect of cheerfulness that could not be obtained otherwise. Even the hanging of the curtains, which are of the Colonial type, adds to the charm of the house. [Illustration: The Out-door Living Room] The bedrooms, on the second floor, of which there are four, show the same low stud that is characteristic of the lower floor. They are small but most conveniently fitted up, even to the conversion of a small closet, which the architect had considered impractical for use, into an extra bathroom. Every bit of available space has been made usable. An unusual feature is the guest house, which has been created in the second story of the large stable which stands at one side of the estate. This is especially useful for week-end parties. The loft has been converted into a suite of bedrooms, pool-rooms, and a screened veranda that can be used for sleeping accommodations. Iristhorpe might be called a conventional farmhouse, one of the type met with on almost every country road. It has no exterior adornment of any kind, but is a fine example of how a picturesque building can be evolved from an unattractive one, and is probably one of the best examples of remodeling that can be found. The house is typical of the best American architecture, and credit should be given the pioneer who first laid the foundation of the old farmhouse. As Iristhorpe now stands, its graceful lines cannot be improved upon, and clever as the alterations undoubtedly are, the great fascination that grips us as we view the house arises from the fact that it is a part of the early architecture, when hewn beams were first primed together, and when dwellings were erected that would endure for centuries. CHAPTER II LIMOVADY First the electric car and now the automobile have solved the problem of accessibility which until recently confronted those who would have returned to the old homestead even sooner, had it been nearer the town. But to-day the house must be far away indeed if it cannot be easily reached from the more active centers, and probably this fact more than any other has opened up for the enjoyment of the younger generations the natural charm of the countryside endeared to our forefathers. In the roomy, old-fashioned farmhouses of New England, surrounded by stately trees and overlooking acres upon acres of rolling pasture and meadow land, unlimited opportunities are offered for the development of the country home. In remodeling these houses of the early builders, any radical departure from the original scheme is seldom necessary. Rather should the lines and motives be sacredly preserved to accentuate their old-time charm, and modern improvements introduced unobtrusively and with such care that the final result is indeed a restoration and not an alteration. The mellowing passage of time has dealt gently with many of our old homes, and history and romance have woven about them an added fascination for every generation to enjoy. When the work of restoration is commenced, the problem of retaining this charm is often a difficult one. In some instances it would seem as if nothing short of pure inspiration had guided the hands of the remodelers of many of the quaint and irregular old houses that stand by the side of the road. The old house is nearly always in harmony with its surroundings; if it did not seem a part of the landscape when it was built, it has at least had time to grow into it through the years, and the problem of all remodeling is to preserve in the completed structure the atmosphere that will make it appear to have always belonged where it stands. While the first thought of our forefathers was to provide an adequate home, they undoubtedly possessed a peculiar instinct in the choice of a picturesque location. By selecting the site best adapted to their needs, the house seemed literally to grow out of the land, and herein lies the secret of more than half the allurement of the old-fashioned structures. The intimacy between house and grounds seems as strong as were the family ties of those hardy pioneers who laid the foundations of American civilization. More practical considerations in regard to the environment than picturesqueness confront the house owner, however, and one of the most important is that of water supply and drainage. These must necessarily be kept far apart. A gentle incline is the best location for a dwelling, so that the one may come to the house from higher ground above, and the other be carried off below. A hollow is bad, because the water will not readily flow away from it; it is always damp and hot, as it is shut in from the breezes. On too steep a hillside, heavy rains will work havoc with lawns, walks, and flower beds. The slope of the land should be considered in reference to the prevailing winds. The house should be placed so that the cool breezes of summer blow upon the living-room side and not upon the kitchen, or all the heat and odors from cooking will fill the rooms, and they will always be hot and stuffy. The attractiveness of the immediate outlook should be noted, and it is well to ascertain if there are any objectionable features which cannot be removed or which are likely to arise within immediate prospect. The character and proximity of the neighbors will play a large part in the enjoyment of a summer home. If the house is not set well back on the property, it should at least be screened with full-grown trees and shrubbery to obtain the seclusion desired. Old trees add greatly not only to the attractiveness of a place but to its actual value and comfort, for it takes a long time to grow new trees that will provide adequate shade from the heat of summer suns. There is an illustration of a thus happily situated farmhouse at Georgetown, about thirty miles from Boston, known as the Jewett house, which was built in 1711. It is typical of an old Dutch lean-to and has a great central chimney twelve feet square, with four flues. Snuggled down in the midst of rolling grass land, it made an attractive picture in its surroundings of old elms. It stood far back from the road and was approached by a long lane that wound among splendid trees to the front of the house. Like many dwellings of this period, its back was toward the main road, and the front door opened upon a wide expanse of shady meadows which in the summer were bright with many-colored wild flowers. Between the house and the road there was a wide stretch of green grass which has been transformed into an old-fashioned flower garden, planted about a small, cement-lined pool and water garden. [Illustration: Rear View from the Garden] This house was discovered several years ago by a young Southerner who had come north from her sunny home in Kentucky to find a summer abode for her brother and herself. The house as it stood was in a very dilapidated condition, and only an artist would have realized its possibilities. But about it was a warmth of atmosphere that appealed to the enthusiastic Southerner. Not the least of its attractions were the elms that cast their protecting shadows not only over the long avenue which led to the house but over the dwelling itself; many of them were patriarchs of the primeval forests when their younger companions were yet in seed; others were set out later, to add their charm to the forsaken home. [Illustration: LIMOVADY--SIDE VIEW] It was purchased in 1906, and the work of restoration was immediately commenced. The outside was weather-beaten and guiltless of paint. The roof sagged, and the great stone chimney needed repair. It was propped up and made thoroughly safe, and the old roof was entirely-rebuilt, but the original lines were closely followed. Viewing the house as it stands to-day, one realizes what attractive apartments can be evolved from ugly interiors, and what interesting results ingenuity and good judgment can bring about. The interior showed coat after coat of vivid tint and layer after layer of atrociously colored wall-paper. The rooms, originally large and square, had been divided and partitioned off to meet the needs of growing families; many of them were small and hopelessly unattractive. But there were latent possibilities. When the house was first purchased, the owner went over the inside herself to discover the original lines. As in many houses of the kind, it was easy to restore the size of the room by following beams and knocking out partitions. It must be remembered that the usual plan in houses of that period was to construct a large, square room in the center with small rooms opening off from it which were used as chambers. The work of decorating, and, as far as possible, the remodeling itself, was done by Mrs. William Otis Kimball and her brother. Along the front of the house a screened, outdoor living-room has been added. The original building consisted of four rooms on the first floor. The front door opened into a small hall, to the right of which was the great living-room, and to the left the dining-room. Back of the former was a guest room, and back of the latter the old kitchen. [Illustration] [Illustration: Two Views of the Living Room] In the living-room, the flooring, which was composed of boards often two feet wide, was in such good condition that it was left intact, treated to a black walnut stain, and shellacked. The height of the ceiling was but seven feet; so the heavy beams of swamp oak were boxed in and painted white, and the space between whitewashed. The walls, which were covered with ten tiers of paper, each one uglier than the last, were cleared to the boarding. The last one was found to be a wonderfully fine landscape paper, which showed that an early owner of the house must have been a person of means, who probably had it brought over in one of the merchant-ships during the time of commercial prosperity, when Newburyport had a lively trade with foreign lands. The walls were treated with a water paint colored a creamy pumpkin tint that makes the room seem always well lighted. It is a most inexpensive finish, such as is used by scene painters in a theater, and can be put on with an ordinary-whitewash brush. The wainscot was stained dark brown to harmonize with the floors. Around the top of the room the owner painted a frieze of conventionalized pomegranates, which follow the color scheme of the woodwork and wall. The old fireplace, which had been closed up, was opened, and the over-mantel enriched with a splendidly decorative painting by the artist herself, representing a Normandy boar hunt about 1330. After it was remodeled, the room measured twenty-four by twenty-six feet, the original size when the house was first built. It is now used as a living-room and library. Inexpensive shelves, made of boards stained to match the wainscot, are fastened along the walls. In places there is a single shelf; sometimes two are placed about twelve inches apart, and they are used for books, pictures, and ornaments. The windows are curtained with an appropriate simplicity that is unusually attractive. Unbleached cotton is used for the over-curtains and decorated with a border of richly colored cretonne, corresponding in color and conventionality of design to the painted frieze on the walls. The hallway is five feet in width and has been kept in the original boards. They are stained in tones of soft brown which harmonize splendidly with the varying color schemes of the rooms that open on either side. Opposite the entrance door is a narrow, winding staircase whose white steps and balustrade contrast sharply with the dark woodwork and hand-rail. Half way up is the old nightcap closet from which, in the early days, our forefathers took their nightly toddy. Underneath the stairs is a secret closet so carefully hidden in the panels that only those familiar with it can find it. This was known in Colonial days as the "priest hole," and it was here, so the legend runs, that French refugees were secreted during the French and Indian wars. [Illustration: The Dining Room] The dining-room opens off the hallway at the left. It is a long, narrow room with a fireplace at one side of the end nearest the hall. The woodwork has been finished in a dark stain, and the old corner cupboard has been kept intact. The fireplace wall is paneled in swamp pine, and over the mantel there is a secret panel cupboard. The lower part of the walls is covered with dark green burlap, and above is a decorative paper in boldly striking colors. There is a long, refectory dining-table in this room, made of stout oak boards, and the other furniture has a monastic simplicity which is entirely in keeping with the character of the room. The small room at the rear of the living-room is used as a guest chamber and is known as the missionary room. Here the walls are tinted a soft moss green, and ornamented at the top by a black and white frieze that pictures the different stages of a missionary's life. He is shown from the time of his arrival on the lonely island to his chase and capture by a band of cannibals, and finally being roasted amidst scenes of hilarity as they turn his fat form on the spit. The studio was originally the kitchen and opens out of this room. The woodwork is of the same dark brown tint used through all the lower story, and the walls are hung with natural colored burlap. The principal features of the room are its fireplace and quaint Dutch oven which were built into the center of the twelve-foot chimney when the house was erected. From the pothook on the crane hangs an old Colonial kettle. Of almost equal interest are the small-paned windows which are closed by sliding inside panels. The present kitchen has been added at the rear. It has white walls decorated with a frieze in which lobsters disport themselves in different attitudes. A small closet at one side of the passage that leads into the kitchen has been utilized for a bathroom. It is finished in white with a dado of tiles painted with turtles. [Illustration: The Lounge] When the house was first purchased, there was an old barn on the property a short distance away. This was moved up and connected with the house. It opens from the dining-room and has been converted into a lounge room, with servants' quarters at the rear. This room is one of the most interesting in the house. It is finished in stained pine, and the old rafters and woodwork have been left as they originally were. The spaces between the heavy beams of the ceiling are white, the beams being black with a narrow band of peacock blue above. [Illustration] [Illustration: Two of the Chambers] The originality used in finishing the house is evidenced nowhere better than in the chambers, on the second floor. Each one has been decorated with a different flower, and they are known as the holly-hock, the sweet pea, the wistaria, and the morning-glory room. A frieze of the particular flower has been painted around, and the canopies and bed coverings show the same design and colors in cretonne. A small room in the barn wing, which was not large enough to be converted into a chamber as it stood, has been utilized for this purpose by opening up a large, connecting closet into an alcove to hold the bed. It is so arranged that at night the bed can be pulled out into the center of the room, and in the daytime hidden behind curtains drawn across the alcove. There are quaint old four-posters in all of the bedrooms, and old-fashioned and simple furniture is used throughout the house. Some of it is home-made, and in many of the rooms are bookcases constructed from packing-boxes, and hung across with curtains of the cretonne used elsewhere in the room. In altering many old houses for modern occupancy, there has been a greater expenditure than would have been required to build an entirely new structure. But in this instance the charm of the old home has been retained with a considerably smaller outlay than would have been necessary to erect another of equal size and facilities. There is an undeniable satisfaction in realizing that all has been gotten out of a venture of this kind that was possible, and that no offense has been committed against the spirit of the old house. Every one who has attempted remodeling obtains different results from those first planned, for as the work proceeds, new possibilities and new limitations constantly appear, till the completed building has an individuality unrealized in the beginning. In Limovady, as this little country place is named, we find a good example of what can be done to make an old house not only a livable but a delightful home, and it is a success such as this that inspires other home seekers to remodel, according to their own ideas. For no two people will be likely to conceive the reconstruction of a home in just the same way, and it is this stamp of individuality that lends to the remodeled house a large part of its charm. CHAPTER III THE KITTREDGE HOUSE Have you ever noticed the fishermen's little cottages that stand along the seacoast wherever modern summer resorts have not displaced them? From a modern architectural point of view, they would at first seem quite insignificant, and yet, hidden away beneath the rough exteriors, there are often interesting lines and good proportions. The humble fishermen who dwelt there cared little for external appearance, but they built their cottages strong and solid and, though unpretentious, they were comfortable. These little old houses, seemingly commonplace though they may be, hold much more interest for the prospective house owner and the architect than do the more elaborate ones of later periods. For wherever men have utilized what skill and intelligence they have to satisfy definite needs in the simplest, most straightforward way, they have achieved something of lasting worth. The ages of these old seacoast houses vary just as do those farther inland. Some were built long before the Revolution and others at a much more recent date. Some have fallen into hopeless decay, while others are still stanch and habitable. The possible purchaser should make a careful examination both inside and out before he decides to remodel. Sometimes, from a superficial survey, an old house may appear sturdy enough to warrant renovation, but a closer investigation will prove that this would be an expensive business. For the old timbers often hold together firmly because they have all settled together as a unit; if any one is disturbed, the rest may be greatly weakened or even threaten to fall apart, like the proverbial house of cards. The first indication of dangerous weakness is a sagging roof. If the lines are even a little concave, it is a bad sign, for the roof would not have settled had the walls held absolutely true. Because of pressure against them, they have been forced apart and perhaps are on the point of tumbling down altogether. If the roof passes its test well, then examine the line of the walls and be sure they are absolutely vertical and have neither spread nor fallen inward. Next study the condition of the timbers. The sill is the most important one. If it is badly-decayed, all the other members resting upon it will have been thereby weakened and the whole structure impaired. The upright timbers and the studs will all have settled, and to straighten them will mean practically the rebuilding of the house. The floors and the roof which rest upon them will be endangered. Sometimes the ends of the uprights have rotted, and the slightest new work about them will result in their crumbling and undermining the beams and rafters they support. It is often necessary to use a sharp iron or a long knife and pry underneath the coverings on both the exterior and the interior to determine their condition. A little attention given to these points will determine whether it is worth while to attempt remodeling, or whether the expense involved would be out of all proportion to the result. Scarcely less vital is the condition of the cellar. Is there dampness, caused by lack of ventilation, by bad walls, or by some inherent moisture? Some of these old houses have a well in the cellar; this should be drained off and filled up. But if there is an actual spring of water, as not infrequently occurs, either move the house or abandon it. Bad walls can be cemented and waterproofed. If the trouble comes from lack of light and air, it may be possible to cut larger window openings. Most old houses were set too low, however, and it is frequently an advantage to raise them. This requires sound underpinning, or the expense will be great. While considering the subject of dampness, it is well to examine the roof and see how much it leaks under the moss-grown shingles. If it is an old house that is in tolerably good repair at the present time, it may be that under some previous owner the roof fell into decay, and rains soaked through. Look for signs of this, for it will mean weakness in timbers and plaster that must be guarded against. Examine the boards of the roof to see if they are strong enough to permit the laying of new shingles. The chimney is another important matter to investigate. In old houses which have not been used for some time, the bricks often deteriorate and become so soft that they crumble at the touch. This would necessitate the not inconsiderable expense of rebuilding the whole chimney, unless it is so large that a second smaller one may be inserted within the old. With the huge fireplaces of other days, whose yawning mouths were often capable of holding a ten-foot log, a metal flue is frequently used in the remodeling. It is surrounded on the outside, between itself and the old chimney, with concrete, which renders it entirely safe from danger of fire. A glance should be given also, in this inspection, at the condition of the floors. If they are not level, it indicates defects in the timbers underneath. The boards themselves are often so rough and laid with such large cracks that it will be necessary to lay new floors. Notice, too, the condition of doors and windows; whether they are straight and true enough to be used again, or if others will have to replace them. Tap the plaster here and there to see where it is loose and to what extent it must be renewed. These are the tests that indicate whether the old house is worth buying and what will be the essential expense to make it habitable. Sometimes one or another defect is so severe as to make the venture foolish; again it can be remedied by resort to strenuous methods. Not infrequently the drawbacks of a bad cellar and a poor location are at once overcome by removing the house altogether to a new site. This is practicable when the building is sound in structure and an inexpensive operation if it is small. [Illustration: AN OLD CAPE COD HOUSE] That was the proceeding which Miss Mabel L. Kittredge undertook with an old fisherman's cottage that had stood for many years on the shores of Cape Cod. It was a simple little building, dilapidated and weather-beaten, and quite unsuggestive of a summer home. But its very quaintness and diminutive size attracted her attention, and she determined to investigate it. The owner was willing to part with it, just as it stood, for eighty-five dollars, not including the land. The location was not desirable, and it was decided to "fleck" the house, as is the colloquial term on the Cape for preparing a building to be moved. It was taken apart and floated across the water to its new foundations in South Yarmouth. Here it was "unflecked" and set up facing the harbor and the cool breezes from the ocean. [Illustration: AN OLD CAPE COD HOUSE--SIDE VIEW] The original building, erected in the early part of the nineteenth century, was a small, shingled structure, thirty by twenty feet, with a straight gable roof rising from the low stud of the first story. Its proportions were not at all unpleasing, and the placing of the several small-paned windows was particularly agreeable. There was a kitchen shed attached to the rear. When it was set in position in the new location, additional windows were cut, a small porch built at the front entrance, and a second shed attached at right angles to the kitchen wing. In the second story, a broad flat-roofed dormer with three windows increased the interior space, without seriously altering the straight lines of the roof. The effort to retain the original simplicity of line is also evident in the porch roof, which follows closely the wide angle of the gable ends of the house. [Illustration: The Living Room] The original interior was cut up into a number of small rooms, the partitions of which were removed, with the exception of those dividing off a bedroom at the rear. This left one good-sized apartment, which was fitted up for living and dining-room combined and made a most delightful place. The stairs were built at the left, along the rear wall. A group of three windows was cut here to give extra light and air, and the manner in which they have been handled is interesting. On account of the position of a heavy supporting beam, it was impossible to make these new windows the height of the original ones. The effect of this was ameliorated by placing a shelf directly above the group of three and extending it across the wall to meet the old window. A number of interesting pieces of china placed on the shelf give it a character and weight which thus carries the eye along from one opening to the other without any consciousness of the break in height. This is but one of those ingenious methods by which remodeling is made successful. The large, old-fashioned fireplace is the center of interest in this room. At the right of it is a china closet with mullioned glass door, and on the left two narrower closets are found in the paneling. A new hardwood floor had to be laid, as the original one was in bad condition. The wainscot and woodwork throughout the house was unusually good for such a small and unpretentious structure. After the former layers of paint had been removed and the wood thoroughly cleaned, it was finished in white. The walls, scraped down to the original plaster, were painted in a soft green flat-coat that was delightfully fresh and cool. Back of this large room was a small hallway leading into the ell at the back. At the left, space was taken for a bathroom. [Illustration: AN OLD CAPE COD HOUSE--THE KITCHEN] The kitchen was kept practically the same as in the old house. The rough stud and rafters were stained a dark brown, and the boards of the roof whitewashed. The walls were plastered to the height of the stud. A modern stove was attached to the old chimney flue on the outside of the building. The exposed uprights provided an opportunity for convenient shelves to be built for the various kitchen appliances. [Illustration: The Attic Chamber] Up-stairs the entire floor was thrown into one room, instead of making several small, stuffy, sleeping apartments. The dormer which was cut in the front added not only to the light, air, and space of the room, but gave an opportunity for a most attractive window-seat to be built beneath the broad windows. The old, wide boards of the floor were in good condition and kept intact. The walls were plastered to the ridge, exposing the heavy tie-beams. Along the walls under the eaves, sets of drawers were built into the woodwork, thus obviating the necessity of having chiffoniers or chests of drawers to consume already limited space. The rough bricks of the chimney, which breaks slantingly through the floor near the center of the room, are not concealed. Instead, they form a rather decorative feature in the little apartment, and about the four sides of the flue shelves are built which serve as a dressing-table and a desk. The furnishings of the whole house are delightfully simple and suggestive of the quaint Colonial period when it was built. Tables and chairs, pictures, mirrors, and china are interesting heirlooms that have been handed down in the family of the owner and preserve the spirit of the little cottage as admirably as do the various alterations which have made it so modern and habitable. CHAPTER IV THE CURTIS HOUSE The great charm of Colonial farmhouses lies in the simplicity of their appearance. Many dilapidated, weather-beaten old buildings, long neglected by an indifferent community, are really little masterpieces of harmonious line and good proportion. The style of the roof tells much about the age of the building to the initiated, and its line is easily the most important factor in the appearance of the house. The pitched roof is one of the oldest types and was used long before our country was discovered. This roof slopes away from the ridge-pole on both sides, thus forming a triangular area, the angle at each end of which is called a gable. In the early days, the pitch was built very steep to accommodate the thatching with which the roof was covered. As shingles came into use, the slope gradually flattened, and the age can be roughly judged by its angle. The gambrel roof appeared before the eighteenth century and was commonly used in New England farmhouses. Each side of this is made up of two distinct pitches, which have no rule to govern their relationship. A somewhat later development was the hipped roof, in which the gabled ends were flattened, making four flat sides sloping from the ridge-pole. This was used when no attic chamber was needed. In the more pretentious Georgian houses, the top was flattened, and a wooden balustrade put around it. These roofs are generally shingled and practically never painted; the soft gray color they attain in weathering is sometimes imitated in stain on new shingles. The addition of a wing or ell brought up a new problem in roofing, and it is this point that demands most serious attention from the remodeler. The old builders have not always been successful in preserving the unity of the roof line that is so essential to pleasing design. Whenever it is possible, the new roof should be made a part of the old, and the lines of one should run into those of the other. The pitch of the two should be practically the same. The same type of roof must be used over all parts of the building, although it is occasionally permissible to have a pitched roof on an ell when the main roof is a gambrel. Where a veranda is added, its roof line must be carefully studied and made to seem an original part of the building, not something stuck on as an afterthought. This problem of keeping the lines of the different roofs in harmony is a vital one, and nowhere is there greater demand for ingenuity and thoughtful treatment. The question of dormers is also important. When it is desired to have a second-story porch or sleeping-room, the dormer often supplies the solution of this difficult problem. The earliest ones were merely a flattening of the pitch of the roof, and this is the type that should be used when it is necessary to add a dormer to the older farmhouses. As the Georgian details were developed, the gable-roofed dormer was used with the cornice moldings of porches and door frames. These dormers were high, with a single window often having a semicircular head. They were usually combined in groups of three and connected with each other by a balustrade. The exterior walls of the first houses were made of heavy boards laid vertically on the framework, without studding. Before long, the wood was laid horizontally, each board overlapping the one below it. This clapboarding and siding was used without interruption through all the various changes in other details. Much later, the shingle was adopted for the sides of the house as well as for the roof. A larger shingle, however, was used on the walls, with a wide exposure of surface. These were made of pine or cypress. Although the walls of most old houses follow a straight line from one story to the next, there was a type, copied by the colonists from the buildings of the mother country and used somewhat freely before the Georgian era, in which the second story extended beyond the first. This overhang was generally used only on the front and back and not on all four sides, as in the European counterparts. The girders and cross beams were framed into the second-story posts, which frequently ended in an ornamental knob or drop, as it was called. The gables, too, occasionally had a slight overhang. In altering a pre-Georgian house, it is therefore permissible to make use of this overhang feature, and it may solve some otherwise knotty problems of required extra space. [Illustration: Before Remodeling] A house which shows unusually clever handling of these points is situated in the little village of Charles River, not so many miles outside of Boston. Within the last few years, this locality has been opened up, and many modern homes have been built and farmhouses remodeled. They are situated along charming woodland roads and seem to nestle in their picturesque surroundings. This particular one stands on the road from Boston to Dover, invitingly shaded by graceful elms that have watched unnumbered generations pass. It suggests to passers-by a typical, seventeenth century farmhouse, ingeniously remodeled, through the plans of the late Philip B. Howard and F. M. Wakefield, architects of Boston, into a twentieth-century summer home. This old farmhouse was built in 1647 and was of the rectangular type, built about a central chimney, with four rooms and a hall on the lower floor. When Mr. Frederick H. Curtis selected it for his home, it had already been materially altered from the original simple structure by various succeeding tenants. And many of these had not added to its charms. The exterior was most uninviting in a vicious shade of red paint with white trim. In front was a small lattice porch entirely out of keeping with the architecture of the house. But in spite of all these unattractive features, there was an insistent appeal about the old place that made it seem worth venturing to restore. The first problem which presented itself was that of interior space. The difficulty lay in enlarging this space in such a way as to provide the needed room and at the same time maintain the harmony of the exterior lines. The original four rooms had been added to from time to time by former owners by means of the customary ells at the rear. The house was two and a half stories high, with a straight, pitched roof starting from the top of the second story. In the rear there was a two-story ell and a one-story addition behind that, with an outside chimney. Each of these was increased by one room, so that space for a laundry was added in the lower floor and for servants' quarters in the second. The chimney was kept on the outside above the laundry roof and built up to the required height. This second-story extension overhangs the old kitchen wall by about eighteen inches on one side and on the other runs into an entirely new wing, whose roof line joins without a break to that of the old ell. The roof of the main building has been extended in the rear, following its straight line to the top of the first story, as was frequently done in old houses. This brought the lines of the main building and the rear ells into greater harmony and provided space for an outdoor living-room on the first floor. A flat-roofed dormer was thrown out above this on the second floor and turned into a sleeping-porch. The lines of the several roofs have thus been kept remarkably simple, considering the great amount of space which has been added. [Illustration: Remodeled] [Illustration: Side View] On the opposite side of the house a new wing has been added to the second floor, parallel to the main building and at right angles to the ells in the rear. The front part of it has a pitched roof following the angle of that on the main building, and the rear has a flat roof on a very low stud. This provides three additional rooms on the second floor. It has been built over an outdoor breakfast or morning-room on the first floor, and the kitchen has been widened under it. [Illustration: The Entrance Porch] At the front of the house, the flat-roofed entrance porch was removed, and one more in keeping with the Colonial period built in its place. This has a gabled roof, supported in front on two simple columns. The back part of it is closed and forms a small vestibule, with old-time oval windows extending on each side beyond the gabled roof-line. There are two benches in front, also beyond this line and protected by vine-grown lattices and small, extending eaves. The floor is paved with brick. These comprise the major changes to the exterior; but new shingles were put on the old roof; the dilapidated slat-shutters were replaced by blinds of solid wood, with a diamond cut in the upper panel after the old-time fashion; and the ugly red paint was changed to a soft Colonial buff. [Illustration: The Hall and Unique Stairway] The narrow entrance hall, opening directly on the stairs, has not been altered. In the stairs, however, an exceedingly interesting treatment has been introduced, made necessary by the plan of the rooms above. On the first landing a doorway was cut in the chimney wall, and stairs built up the center of the chimney between the two flues. These give access to a small hall in the rear, connecting the several bedrooms. The door that leads to these stairs, at the foot, is a "secret" one; that is, it is covered with the wall-paper which surrounds it and fits tightly into the wall without framing woodwork. [Illustration: The Dining Room] At the right of the hallway the parlor and dining-room were thrown into one long living-room, and a pleasant triple window was cut in the rear wall looking out upon the veranda. The fine old woodwork about the fireplace was restored to its original beauty with many coats of white paint. The hand-hewn beams in the ceiling were uncovered from the casing which had hidden them, and the wood rubbed and oiled. The floor was found to be in good condition and, after the placing of additional boards where the partition was removed, was merely scraped, filled, stained, and polished. A semicircular corner cupboard in a reproduction of an old style, its shelves filled with interesting specimens of seventeenth-century pewter, gives character to the room. The walls were finished in a soft shade of burlap, and the old mahogany furniture, chintz covers, rag rugs, and simple scrim curtains preserve the delightful atmosphere. On the opposite side of the hall is the library or den. This is unchanged, except for the white paint and the quaint Colonial wall-paper. Willow furniture is used. Back of this, and extending across to the living-room, is the dining-room. The beams show the position of the original walls and indicate the way in which the room was enlarged. This leaves the fireplace at the side of a sort of alcove and so, to balance it and give importance to that end of the room, a china closet was built across the corner. An unpaneled wainscot, with simple baseboard and molding at the top, runs around the room, the new part matching the old. The woodwork is all white, including the encased beams, which here were not in a condition to be exposed. The upper walls are covered with a blue and silver grass-cloth that strikes an effective color note behind the mahogany furniture. In this room is a good example of the use of modern reproductions of Sheraton chairs with a genuine old sideboard. Glass doors lead from either end of the dining-room on to the two verandas. Both of these verandas are really rooms without walls, as they have been incorporated so completely within the lines and framework of the house. The one on the side of the house in front of the kitchen is used as a breakfast-room, and many of the other meals are served out here in the open air. That in the rear of the living-room is a delightful spot on summer afternoons and evenings. Both of these porches are thoroughly screened and fitted with framework in which glass sashes are placed during the winter. On the second floor there are four bedrooms and a bath in the main part of the building, with a sleeping balcony leading from one of them. This is protected with screens and awnings and furnished with hammocks and reclining chairs. In the wings there are three servants' rooms and a bath. All of the rooms have been fitted up in a quaintly simple style that is thoroughly in keeping with the period of the house, the low ceilings, and fine woodwork. In some of the rooms there are valuable old pieces of furniture, a four-poster of the Sheraton type, and a highboy with details of the Queen Anne period. In another room modern white enamel furniture has been used, but it is so simple and straightforward in design that it harmonizes entirely with the atmosphere of the room engendered by the old fireplace and chimney cupboard, the thumb latches on the doors, rag rugs, and an old-time wall-paper figured with stripes of morning-glories and daintily poised humming-birds. In this second floor, the old iron hardware has been largely used in strap and H and L hinges, latches, knobs, and shutter fastenings. Throughout the lower story, modern brass knobs and key plates reproducing an old Colonial pattern have been used, securing greater convenience and safety. Hot-air heating has been installed and electric lighting. The outlets, however, are all in the walls or baseboard sockets, so that there is no conspicuous inconsistency in the atmosphere, and lamps and candles are also used throughout the house. CHAPTER V GREEN MEADOWS The architect of to-day has an advantage over the master builder of long ago in that he is able to grasp all ideas that were introduced into the old house and can restore it without losing the spirit of the original in either the exterior or interior. The wings and ells which were added by succeeding tenants often bear little relation to the main building and must either be torn down or harmonized in some way to preserve the unity of the completed design. The general plan of the house and the arrangement of the rooms should be carefully observed before the house owner and architect undertake the task of remodeling. Too many houses are disappointing because a study has not been made of the different types and periods of old houses, and the result is a mixture, neither one thing nor the other. Old Colonial houses were always built on the rectangular plan, as this provided the greatest amount of enclosed space with the least expenditure of labor and material. They were also constructed about an axis, and it is essential for the remodeler to determine what that axis is before making any alterations. In the earliest days, the chimney was the center of the building and dominated the plan. The various rooms opened around it, so that as many of them as possible could have a fireplace from the one chimney. It was consequently a huge affair and occupied about three fourths as much space as one of the rooms. In the first plans, there were usually but two rooms, a kitchen on one side and a parlor on the other. Later, a room was built in the back for the kitchen, and a third opening made in the chimney. The narrow stairs were built in at the front to fit into the chimney space and generally ascended with two landings and turns at right angles. As a late development, about the time of the Revolution, four equally large rooms were needed, and this one chimney was divided into two and placed on either side of the center of the house, so that in each of the main rooms there was a fireplace opening front or back from one of the two chimneys. This arrangement altered the position of the stairs, and stairs and hall became the central axis of the house. The proportion of the space allotted to them, however, remained about the same as when the chimney had occupied the center. This accounts for the wide Colonial halls, which are such a charming feature of old houses. The stairs were built along one side, the length of the hall, often a perfectly straight flight without turn or landing, and the hall was frequently cut clear through to a door in the back, which formed a rear exit to the garden. The Georgian houses at the end of the eighteenth century were commonly built on this plan. There was one other distinct type, in which the fireplaces in the four corner rooms were in the outer walls, and four separate chimneys were built. The central hall and staircase retained their same dominant proportions, but a second cross hall was sometimes built, dividing the house from end to end. To all of these types, additions were frequently made, as the family increased, or new owners took possession. The extra space was not acquired by enlarging the main building but by adding an ell in the back at right angles to the original structure, or a wing at the side, parallel with it. These additions were attached to the house by their smallest dimension, as that obstructed the least amount of light. They were smaller than the main part; many were but one story in height, and those that were two had a lower stud, so that the original building would remain the important feature in the whole. After examining the old house from this point of view, consider the new uses to which it will be put and determine what changes will have to be made. Sketch the entire plan out before commencing an alteration, and then endeavor to see if the proposed remodeling is practical from a structural point of view, and if it harmonizes with the original spirit of the old building. Mark out in each room the position of windows and decide where new ones may have to be cut in the rearranged interiors. Study the fireplaces and find out whether the proposed removal of a partition wall will throw them out of balance in the rooms, and what you can do to counteract it. Pay particular attention to closet room, for in the old days it was given too little consideration for modern requirements. Draw rough plans and put your ideas regarding every possibility down on paper; it is surprising how many new suggestions will occur as each scheme is worked out, and there is a fascination in seeing how much can be fitted into a given space. After the work is begun, unforeseen conditions will crop up and necessitate changes in the project, as well as disclose new opportunities, but a greater part of the planning can be done beforehand. A roomy, old, New England farmhouse near Hamilton was recognized by Mr. George Burroughs as a fertile subject for development into a beautiful country home. It was situated in the heart of rolling country and surrounded by wide stretches of grass land, from which the estate was named "Green Meadows." [Illustration: GREEN MEADOWS--FRONT VIEW] The original house, separated from the highway by an old wall of field stone and an elm-shaded dooryard, was built in 1786, and it is curious to note that no deed was ever recorded. It was the usual type of farmhouse, constructed about a central chimney, two and a half stories in height, with an unbroken roof line. Subsequent owners had added wings at each side instead of the more customary ell at the rear. One of these wings is of brick, which indicates that it was probably not built before the middle of the last century, but although the two building materials seem incongruous in the one house, vines have so overgrown this wing that the red glimpsed through them and contrasting with the white walls of the house is very attractive. The only important alterations in the exterior appearance of the house were in the addition of the long veranda across the rear and the alteration of the frame wing at the right. The old structure was found to be in too dilapidated a condition to restore, but it was reproduced in all its exterior details and joined to the end of a new wing attached to the house and a trifle broader than the old. Two hip-roofed dormers add to the space in the second floor and permit the construction of attractive servants' quarters. The frame of the entrance door in the center of the front façade is a particularly happy example of the simple Georgian style used in the better class of farmhouses of that day. Its flat pilasters and well-proportioned cornice illustrate the restraint and refinement in the work of even the average builders. The door itself opens into a small hallway, restored with fresh white paint to all its original beauty. On this left side of the house the partition between the old dining-room and parlor has been removed to make one large living-room. After the cornices and the wainscoting were restored, the woodwork, including the encased beams in the ceiling, was painted white. The condition of the old floor made it necessary to lay a new one of hard wood. This room admirably reflects the old Colonial spirit in its fireplace and cupboards. The paneling above the mantel shelf presents an interesting variation in the framing of fireplaces. The original wainscot with its molded cap divides the wall surface in an agreeable proportion, and the rather heavy cornice moldings at the ceiling line relieve the emphasis of the great beams. The old hardware is used on doors and windows, the thumb latches are finished in the natural black, and the H and L hinges painted white to correspond with the woodwork. The upper part of the walls is covered with a rose-colored paper reproducing a conventional Georgian medallion design in silvery gray. This rose color has been carried out in all the furnishings of this room; the upholstery of chairs and sofas is in a deeper shade; the over-curtains are somewhat paler, and in the Oriental rugs, rose blends with soft browns and blues. Old-fashioned Venetian blinds or slat-curtains shade the windows in the living-room and throughout the house. On the opposite side of the entrance hall is the reception-room. The same treatment has been accorded here as in the living-room, and the furnishings are especially harmonious and well arranged. The long, low lines of an Adam sofa, a slender-legged desk, and chairs and table, each one a noteworthy masterpiece of cabinet making, are admirably chosen to add apparent height to the low stud, but the monotony of too much light and low furniture is broken by a tall grandfather clock placed in the corner. The pictures on the walls, old prints simply framed in mahogany, are hung with a similar thought to increase the apparent height of the room, and their arrangement is well worth studying. The fireplace, on the opposite side of the chimney from that in the living-room, is equally interesting. The wall above the white wainscot is papered in a golden yellow of conventional flowers, and the upholstery and draperies are of a golden striped and figured Adam damask that brings out the rich color of the satinwood and mahogany furniture. In the rear, on the same side of the house, is the dining-room. The old woodwork here was insignificant, and it has been replaced with modern paneled wainscot covering two thirds of the wall surface. One could wish that the proportions of the original woodwork had been a little more closely followed, and the atmosphere of the other rooms carried more definitely into this. The old fireplace has been retained across the corner of the room with its flue in the central chimney, but its frame is a modern conception. The chimney cupboard in the side has been turned into a china closet with a new door of mullioned glass displaying interesting old pewter and plates. The upper third of the wall above the wainscot is covered with a reproduction of an old-time scenic paper in greens and grays, and the window hangings are of corresponding colors in damask. The seats of the Hepplewhite chairs carry the same tones in tapestry. The apparent size of the dining-room has been cleverly increased by carrying the decorative motives into the passageway which connects it with the service quarters in the right wing. The same paneling of the wainscot and the same paper above, seen through the double doorway, give the impression that this is all part of the one room, and the placing of a buffet in front of the opening enhances the effect. On the other side of the dining-room a small hall, paneled with white enameled woodwork to the ceiling, leads into the living-room. [Illustration: The Living Room] French doors of glass open from here on to the wide veranda which has been added across the back of the house, overlooking the green meadows and shady vales that stretch away on all sides. [Illustration] [Illustration: Two Views of the Den] From this veranda or from the living-room, one can enter the brick wing at the left of the house. This originally contained the kitchen with bedrooms above, but in altering it, the entire wing was thrown into one room opened to the roof. With the great old beams and rafters showing, and all the woodwork stained dark, this apartment lends itself admirably to the character of a den or smoking-room. At the end, the old kitchen chimney has been utilized for a fireplace, and old paneling inserted above the high mantel. Seats have been built under the windows flanking the chimney and, with their soft cushions and pillows, add materially to the comfort of the room. The windows in this wing are unusually large,--an indication of the later date of its construction,--and in order to carry the same proportions in their divisions as in the older part of the house, twenty-four panes of glass were used in each. A rich green and brown landscape paper covers the upper two thirds of the walls above the wainscot molding. The upholstery and cushions on davenport, armchairs, and window-seats of brown leather stamp this apartment indelibly as a man's room, and the decorations of old flint-locks in one corner add to the effect. The service quarters of the house in the wings at the right have been made especially complete. In the middle section are butler's pantry, kitchen, laundry, and refrigerator, with two bedrooms on the second floor; and in the narrower part is a servants' hall and three bedrooms which are open to the roof. [Illustration: The Old-fashioned Chamber] On the upper floor of the main part of the house the four bedrooms have been kept much as in the past. Those in the rear have been made to open out, through double doors, on to the second story of the veranda, which can be used as a sleeping-porch. The old white woodwork and the original fireplaces add their ineffable charm. The floors were in poor condition and are covered with matting as a background for the rag rugs. Some very interesting old pieces of furniture add to the atmosphere of these chambers. The registers of the hot-air heating system which has been installed are unusually well selected for an old Colonial house. Instead of the customary meaningless scroll and meander pattern in the grills, a simple square lattice has been used, which preserves the spirit of other days admirably. CHAPTER VI NAWN FARM City people are prone to think that the country is agreeable only during the summer months, and that winters spent there are unpleasant and dreary. This notion is fast being dispelled, as country houses are kept open longer and longer each year, and the pleasures of country week-ends during the entire winter are definitely proven. There is in reality no more delightful place to spend the long winter months than in the heart of a beautiful country. A never-ending round of interests astonishes one who has never tried it before. Each month brings a fresh phase, and it is hard to determine whether the country is at its best during the summer or winter season. There is a fascination indescribable in watching the fall of snow, the settling of flakes on the bare limbs, the transition from brown to diamond-covered branches that glisten with every motion and are often decorated with long icicles reflecting all the prismatic colors. If you have never seen this side of country life, you will find it a wonderful world, where it is intensely interesting to study the seasons in turn, note the coming and going of birds, look for the early and late flowers, watch the melting of snows and the swelling of buds in the warm spring suns. More active pleasures, too, await the adventurer in the winter country. There are so many sports to be enjoyed that one does not wonder the youth delights to come here for skating, snow-shoeing, or toboganning. What is more delightful than a sleighing party, whose destination is a remodeled farmhouse not too many miles from the city? Start the cheery fire in the huge fireplace, pile on the six-foot logs, draw your chairs nearer while you forget the outside world, and feel a glow of delight that you, too, have joined the throng who know the thrill of country life. The first thing to do when contemplating an all-the-year-round country home is to look for a house in the right location. In selecting it the problem of heating must be thought of in a different way than as that for merely summer use. Then fireplaces will amply suffice for the few cool days and chilly evenings, and no better method could be desired. But for the real cold of winter, whether for continued use or the occasional week-end, more complete heating will need to be provided. The cheapest and simplest way is undoubtedly by stoves which can be attached to the fireplace flues. But this necessitates closing up the fireplace and depriving family and guests of all the joys of the blazing logs which never seem more cheerful and hospitable than in the bitterest weather. If the house is to be used mainly for week-end parties, stoves have another serious drawback. They must be kept oiled when not in use, to prevent their rusting, and it takes nearly two days after the fire is lighted to burn the oil off. Then, when closing up the house again, the stove must be re-oiled, and this necessitates putting the fire out and waiting in the cold house until the metal is sufficiently cool to apply the treatment. The most adequate method is by hot water or steam, and for a large country house these are really the only practical ways. The expense involved will depend upon the structure of the house. In a brick or stone building, it will cost a good deal to have the pipes built into the wall. Sometimes conditions will allow them to be carried up in a closet or partition. In a frame house that has been built with deep window jambs, as was so often done in the olden times, the pipes can be hidden within this furred framework. The great objection to steam or hot-water systems in old houses, however, is the presence of the radiator, which never can be made to harmonize thoroughly with the spirit of the old building. When it is used, some attempt must be made to disguise it. If it can be made long and low and placed in front of a window, it can be treated as a window-seat with a metal grill in front. For houses of the later Georgian period, grills can be found whose designs are not at all out of keeping with the other classical details. Sometimes a radiator can be placed entirely within the furred partition, and the heat admitted into the room through paneled doors which are thrown open when it is in use. For small houses, the hot-air system is perhaps the most desirable. The registers are inconspicuous and bring no jarring note into the old-time atmosphere. The pipes require considerable overhead room in the cellar, which sometimes becomes a hard problem in the low foundations of old houses. The fact that it is difficult to drive the hot air against the wind raises a second objection, but if the furnace is placed in the corner of the house from which the cold winds blow, or even a second furnace is installed, the trouble will be largely overcome. And there is the great advantage, especially for a week-end house, that it can be started up or left at a moment's notice without trouble from water in the pipes or danger of freezing as in the hot-water systems. Whatever the method decided upon, it is an interesting work from start to finish. One feels a thrill of adventure in evoking from the home of past generations one for twentieth-century living with all the comforts and appliances necessary. But to transform an old building that has never even been intended for living purposes into a residence that is not only comfortable and suited to the owner's needs but an architectural success as well, is a still more fascinating problem. How Messrs. Killam and Hopkins have accomplished this with an old barn at Dover and kept the distinctive simplicity and atmosphere of the original building is worthy of emulation. [Illustration: NAWN FARM--FRONT VIEW] When Mrs. Genevieve Fuller bought the Nawn Farm some three years ago, it was her intention to alter the farmhouse then on the property. Its location, however, was not entirely favorable; the house was on sloping ground in somewhat of a hollow and too near the public road. Besides this, the rooms were small and very much out of repair. On the crest of the hill was the barn, occupying a commanding position and framed in splendid old trees. The structure was found to be so stanch that it was decided to tear down the old house and convert the barn into the residence. [Illustration: Rear View] The foundations were left unchanged, and an ell on the north side was added for the service portion of the building. The supports and interior divisions are all virtually unaltered. The living and dining rooms occupy the positions of the former mows, and the hall connecting them is the old passage for the wagons. Most of the original studding has been used as it stood, and the beams incased or hidden in the finish of the walls. The roof was flattened on the top, and the gables cut off, but the slope was unaltered. Wider eaves were added at a slightly different pitch, softening the lines of the roof. Doors and windows were, of course, cut anew to conform with the different usage of the building. Their position was necessarily determined somewhat by the existing supports, but they have been very happily placed, whether in groups or singly. Those of the sleeping rooms on the second floor are especially well handled; they are wide and raised well up under the overhanging roof, so that they carry out the broad low lines of the architecture. The openings of the sleeping-porches have been treated exactly as windows, their size corresponding with the apparent dimensions of the windows, and their locations determined by the same factors. They become at once an integral part of the structure instead of the unsightly excrescence which the presence of a sleeping-porch so often proves. [Illustration: The Living Room] On the first floor, the living-room occupies the entire eastern end, having exposures on three sides. This has been attractively finished in gum wood stained a dark brown, and the warm tones of natural colored grass-cloth tone the walls. An interesting treatment has been accorded the fireplace by flanking it on either side with a nook, the outer walls of which cleverly conceal parts of the old structure. In each of the recesses is a small window above the paneling and window-seat. The furnishings of the room are appropriately simple and invitingly comfortable, suggesting old-fashioned things adapted for modern uses. Especial interest is attached to the fireplace fittings; they are of hand-forged iron, wrought by the village blacksmith after designs of the owner. The andirons were made from the tires of old cart wheels, flattened and bent into shape and curled over at the top. The wood-box is of flat strips of iron interlaced. From one wing of the hall ascend stairs which are the faithful reproduction of an old Colonial design. The other part of the hall, across the southern front, is so broad and cheerful with two big windows and two glass doors opening on to the sunny loggia that it has been furnished with a davenport, tables, and chairs almost as a second living-room. The woodwork is North Carolina pine stained brown, and the walls are gray. The billiard-room back of this hall, with its attractive alcove and fireplace, is finished in fumed oak, and the walls are also gray. [Illustration] [Illustration: Two Views of the Dining Room] Perhaps the distinction of being the most attractive room in the house can be accorded the dining-room with its Colonial white woodwork. The fireplace and the china closet, balanced on the other side by the door into the pantry, are of excellent proportions and charming detail. The mullioned panes of the china closet and the treatment of the moldings about the frame are especially interesting. On the opposite side of the room a group of three windows provides opportunity for an unusually delightful feature in the long window-box, built by the village carpenter. Its simple, sturdy lines are worthy of notice. The walls are papered in a deep cream, and the greatest simplicity maintained in the furniture and draperies. [Illustration: The China Closet in the Dining Room] The service portion is well arranged both for convenience of labor and comfort of the domestics. The basement laundry leads directly into a large drying yard which was the original enclosure for the cows and is surrounded by the same wall of field stone. Up-stairs the rooms might be said to be divided into three suites, which can be practically shut off from each other: each has its own bath and sleeping-porch. In the group over the living-room there has been an ingenious solution of the structural conditions. The division of the rooms made possible by the old supports permitted a dressing-room to be placed conveniently between the two chambers, but the fireplace added in the living-room was directly below, so that the chimney would naturally cut off the outside wall. It would have been possible to construct a large fireplace in the dressing-room and allow the light to come through the chambers, but the architects evolved another scheme. The chimney was carried up on one side, providing a fireplace for one of the chambers, and a second chimney was built in the opposite corner of the dressing-room. In the space between, a window was cut, and the two flues joined directly over the window. From the outside of the building this gives a most unusual effect as there is a chimney directly over a window, having no apparent support, or even purpose. The lines of the pyramidal base conform to the slope of the roof. CHAPTER VII BOULDER FARM The remodeling of an old farmhouse is apparently a simple matter; it would at first seem necessary only to preserve the main lines and characteristics of the original in the alterations that are required to meet the conditions of modern life. But when one realizes that the less conspicuous details are also important, in order to maintain the essential harmony of the whole, it becomes a more intricate proposition. One cannot merely study the details already on the building and slavishly copy them for the new parts, because frequently it will be found that doors or windows or shutters have been added by more recent owners and are not really in keeping with the old structure at all. In order to reclaim the house, then, so that it shall have a consistent unity throughout, one must have some understanding of the evolution of these details. There is no more significant element in these old Colonial houses than the front door. It was placed in the center of the front wall and formed the unit of the exterior design. The very early doors were of heavy oak boards placed vertically and fastened together with horizontal strips. These batten doors, as they were called, were made very sturdy and strong, in order to resist attacks from Indians or other marauders. Often they were marked with an awl into diamond and lozenge patterns and sometimes studded with hand-wrought nails. Not for a good many years did the panel door come into use. At first it was a flat panel, flush with the sides of the door and separated from the sides and top only by a small bead molding. This was soon developed into the flat sunken panel, meeting the surrounding wood with several moldings; and then the panels were beveled and raised in the center, and the moldings gradually became more elaborate and delicate in outline. The early doors were solid for purposes of protection, but as the country became more settled, thick bull's-eye glass was inserted into the top horizontal panel to let light into the hall. As the interior plan was changed in its evolution, the hall became larger, and these bull's-eyes did not provide sufficient light, so the transom was introduced over the door. For some time a simple top light was used, divided by lead and then wooden muntins. Then side lights were introduced, and the treatment became more elaborate in the beautiful styles of the later Georgian period. The frame about the door was at first of flat, undecorated boards, the upper one resting on the two at the sides. Then these were molded and mitered at the corners, and later a cap of heavier moldings was put across the top. This hood became more and more prominent and required the use of definite support. Console brackets were sometimes used but more frequently flat pilasters set against the wall. These gradually became more important, developing into the three-quarter round and finally the isolated column. The pediment and cornice were then extended into the open porch that is one of the splendid features of the Georgian style. Here in cornice and capital was a field for the development of all the most delicate and beautiful motives of classic carving. As this door and porch was the center of the design of the exterior, the windows were grouped symmetrically about it, the same on each side. There were few of them at first, and they were of rather small size. Casement windows were the earliest kind used, and the small, diamond panes were sunk in lead, as were those made in the mother country. It is probable that most of these windows were brought over from England and not constructed here. After 1700, the sliding sash was introduced, dividing the windows horizontally, and these had wooden muntins. It must have been considered a more elegant type of window, for it was used in the front of the house for a long time, while the leaded casement was still put in rear windows for many years. The early wooden muntins were quite heavy but later became nearly as delicate as the leaden ones. They divided the sash horizontally and vertically into squares. The window casings, like the door frames, were at first entirely plain and then had a heavier band across the top which developed into a molded cap or cornice, as at the entrance. When sliding sashes were introduced, the walls of the houses were not thick enough to contain them, so the frames and the sashes were built on to the outside, frequently projecting quite a distance. The necessity for constructing them in this way led to the deep jambs and sills which are such a charming characteristic of the Colonial style. Shutters were used on the outside of the house as a means of protection from the Indians, when the country was being settled, and these were made of heavy, battened wood three or four inches thick, like the doors. Subsequently a small diamond was cut in the top to admit some light when the shutter was closed. Then a shutter with a solid upper and lower panel was used, and finally these panels were replaced with slats. There was one other part of the exterior which developed interesting characteristics to be observed in the remodeling: that is, the cornice of the roof. This was merely the overhang in the early buildings and sometimes consisted of the framing beam actually exposed. In the Georgian houses, this was boxed and later elaborated with splendid carvings that deserve perpetuation in more lasting material than wood. There was no gutter for rain-water, and the drip from the eaves was caught on flagstones on the ground at the corners of the house. This detail, although not needed with modern gutters and rain pipes, gives a charming old-time touch when retained in the remodeled home. It is by attention to such seemingly insignificant points that the atmosphere of the original buildings has been consistently retained in so many cases. An excellent instance of how this has been done may be seen in a late Georgian type of farmhouse that stands somewhat back from the old Londonderry turnpike on an estate at Hopkinton, New Hampshire. Although it is not very old, having been built in 1820, it is typical of the better class of simple home in the early days of the Republic. [Illustration: BOULDER FARM--FRONT VIEW] The history of the building of this old house is rather interesting. In the days when lotteries were still in flourishing condition, and some of the best men in the community were interesting themselves in the various schemes, a member of one of the churches induced Deacon Philip Brown's hired man to purchase a ticket for a paltry sum. Repenting his investment, he afterwards sold it to his employer, who was a clever silversmith and clock-maker, much respected and well known in the community through his yearly rounds about Hopkinton to repair the clocks of the farmers. The ticket proved to be the winning one, that drew a great prize. With part of this money, Deacon Brown purchased the old "Boulder Farm," as it was called from a great rock that still stands in an open field just south of the house. Here he erected the Georgian farmhouse that is standing to-day. The rest of the money, so the legend runs, he buried somewhere in the field, but he probably removed it later, as it has never been found. He placed the house on rising land, a short distance from the broad highway, built in the same year and for a long time the straight thoroughfare from Londonderry to Concord and Boston. Deacon Brown lived on the estate until 1846, with the exception of the year 1830, when it was occupied by Governor Matthew Harvey of New Hampshire. The property, placed on the market, then fell into the hands of a man named Kelly, brother-in-law to Grace Fletcher, the first wife of Daniel Webster. During his life, the great American statesman often visited there. What happened during the period between this occupancy and the time of its purchase by Mr. Harry Dudley of Concord, New Hampshire, is not recorded, but we can be confident that the house had careful treatment from its state of preservation. It was while Mr. Dudley was looking around for a home with ample grounds, and near enough to his business to allow him to go back and forth every day, that he discovered this historic place. Its attractiveness and the healthfulness of the surroundings appealed to him. Very little was needed to bring the house back to good condition and make it habitable. The land was attractive and could be improved. In front of the house was a wide stretch of meadow that was easily terraced to meet the boundary line. To the many old trees shading the house and lawn were added young trees to replace some of the ancient ones that were dying. [Illustration: The Front Doorway] Although the house was a model type of the architecture of its day, and there had been abundant room for the old-time residents, modern ways of living demanded additional space. A long ell, built at the rear for the service department, and a wide veranda in dignified Colonial style along one side were the two main exterior alterations. The appearance of the windows was changed by putting in larger panes in order to admit more light, but they were still in keeping with the old-time atmosphere. The reshingling and repainting of the house and the addition of the trellises at one side completed the exterior improvements. The splendid front entrance porch with its graceful fanlight, Doric columns, and straight cornice, and the equally interesting though less imposing side porch were left practically unchanged. The old blinds were restored, to give the stately, old-time atmosphere to the mansion. The new veranda is wide and extends along the whole side of the house. Its flat roof rests on coupled Doric columns that carry out the classical Georgian detail of the entrance porch; the second story is finished with a simple balustrade, in keeping with the fine simplicity of the main lines. During the summer months this broad piazza is a delightful out-of-door living-room, from which there is a splendid view over the green country; and one can, in imagination, picture the old stage-coaches of former days lumbering by on the highroad. The upper part of the veranda opening from the chambers on that side of the house is used as a sleeping-porch. The path that leads to the main entrance passes through a wicket gate and ascends the terrace over stone steps to the granite block before the door. The pleasant formality of this porch is accentuated by two close-clipped bay trees, one on either side of the step. [Illustration: The Hall] This door opens directly into the hall and faces the long, straight flight of stairs which reaches the second floor without a turn. The woodwork of these stairs is particularly nice in proportion and line; and the carving under the ends of the steps, in a simple but beautiful scroll design, is most interesting. The hand-rail is mahogany, and the molding which follows it on the wall side above the wainscoting is also mahogany. [Illustration: The Parlor] In the parlor at the left no innovation has been introduced, and it remains almost as when the house was built. There we find the old white wainscoting unpaneled, with a fine carved molding defining the top. The windows, recessed in the Colonial style, retain their original inside shutters that are still used. It is unusual to find these to-day, for in remodeling houses the shutters are almost always removed in favor of more modern conveniences. Shutters were formerly used as we now employ curtains, to be closed at night-fall or to shut out light and cold. The fireplace in this room is a fine example of Colonial work. It shows a central medallion of a plentifully filled fruit basket and wheat sheaves over the fluted side columns; the edge of the mantel shelf has an unusual ball and string ornamentation finely carved. The wall-paper dates back to the time of the fireplace. It shows a Grecian pastoral design in shades of brown, yellow, and old rose and was hand-printed from blocks made in England. Through all these years it has retained its brightness, escaping the hands of time, and lends a charming and quaint atmosphere to this room. All of the movable furnishings are equally well in keeping; the slat-back chairs and tables conform to the spirit of the period, as does the fine old Empire mirror, resting on its rosettes. On the opposite side of the hall from the parlor is the living-room. This is similar in character, with a fireplace only slightly less interesting. It has the same old white wainscoting, but the upper walls have been covered with a modern foliage paper which, strangely enough, blends harmoniously with the setting of the room. It is furnished with eighteenth-century pieces corresponding to those in the other parts of the house. [Illustration] [Illustration: Two Views of the Dining Room] At the end of the hall is the dining-room, reached through an open arch. The old wall and door here were cut away in the remodeling to produce an impression of spaciousness and give a vista from the entrance clear through the house and into the garden at the rear. The arch was added to finish the opening, but it conforms carefully to the details found in the architecture of that day. This room was originally divided, and one part used as a kitchen, but the partition was removed and the two thrown into one, making a long dining-room which occupies the greater part of the rear of the house. At the end, the old single window was enlarged, and two smaller ones cut through on either side to make a delightful sunny group which adds materially to the charm of the room. In the fireplace, which was the original old kitchen one, used for cooking and baking, the brick oven was removed to admit the introduction of a door opening into the living-room. Otherwise it was left unchanged, and the white painted woodwork about it, although simple and unpretentious, is beautifully proportioned. The old flint-lock and warming-pan which hang there pleasantly emphasize the Colonial idea. The wall-paper is a reproduction of a Colonial block pattern in soft shades of gray and green. The floors in this room, as all over the house, are covered with matting laid over the original boards, which were found to be in too bad a condition to restore; entirely new ones would have been necessitated had bare, polished floors been demanded. [Illustration: The Den] At the end of the dining-room, opposite the triple window, a door leads into a small room which is used as a den. This retains the old fireplace opening from the same chimney and directly back of that in the parlor. The walls have been papered in a plain green and are sparingly decorated with sporting prints and trophies suggestive of the hunt and the master's particular domain. Doors lead from this room not only into the dining-room, but to the parlor and the veranda at the side. The ell of the house, opening from the dining-room, is devoted to butler's pantry, kitchen, servants' dining-room, and servants' chambers on the second floor. The upper story of the main part of the house has been kept almost as when it was built, and the large square chambers are well-lighted and airy. The open fireplaces and the Colonial furniture, four-posters and highboys and chests, give to the rooms a delightfully old-fashioned atmosphere. The whole house is a fine example of late Georgian architecture, preserved in all its interesting detail. CHAPTER VIII THREE ACRES Few people realize how much thought should be put into the remodeling of a farmhouse, and many fail to keep the simple country atmosphere; they endeavor to establish in suburban surroundings a home that is better suited to city life. A house reclaimed in this way is necessarily a misfit and must always seem inharmonious in its setting. It never carries out the idea for which we are striving: that a house should be typical of the life of the people who live in it. It should express individuality, be a house to live in, to grow in, to become identified with your life; this is a most important fact that cannot be too carefully observed, and it becomes all the more essential if the home is to be an all-the-year-round one and not merely a summer residence where but a few months are passed. To-day it is a far more difficult matter to select an old farmhouse of sufficient distinction to remodel than it was even ten years ago. The most desirable ones have already been bought, since the pleasures of living in the country have been realized by so many former dwellers in the city. There are many personal matters to be thought of in the selection of a house for remodeling; one must consider his individual needs in its relation to his daily pursuits. The business man must select a house near enough to the city to allow traveling back and forth every day; but the man whose occupation does not require city life during the time he wishes to be in the country can establish himself wherever he chooses. There is no doubt that the latter is able to find a far better farmhouse, for he can go farther away, where the best types have not been reclaimed, owing to their distances from the large cities. It is to be taken for granted that a person has a definite purpose when he leaves the city for a country existence, and it is necessary that he educate himself to the point where he makes his ideas practical. This cannot be done without study beforehand. In making a house suit individual requirements, one must follow along its own lines. Do not attempt to transplant into it features from some other house you admire. An Elizabethan gable or a craftsman living-room may have been very interesting in the friends' houses in which you saw them, but they would be quite out of place thrust into a Colonial farmhouse. If you have a real need for the features that you find in some other house, you should adapt them to the spirit of the building you are remodeling. If it cannot be made to harmonize with the other motives, it is possible that you are attempting to make a home out of a building that is not suited to your style of life. But it is because these Colonial farmhouses meet the requirements of the average American families so adequately that they are so interesting to remodel. Each house owner must decide for himself what is the main element in his existence and reclaim the house accordingly. In one family, the interests will be entirely domestic; another household will live in the open, occupied with sports; another devotes much time to music; and there are still others who are absorbed in some special craft or work that will require definite accommodations. In many cases the house can readily be adapted to these particular requirements without any essential change in its atmosphere. The success that is achieved by working with these old-time elements is due to their sincerity and honesty in solving the problems of their own day and age; they are the results of actual and real experience, and we know no better ways to meet the same conditions. So that when we have the same problems confronting us, we cannot do better than accept the successful results of others' experiments. This does not mean a slavish copying of the old in restoration; to simply imitate old elements would be neither interesting nor commendable, except for the purposes of a museum. Each style is based upon some fundamental principle, and it should be our aim to work with the underlying idea of creating that which will best meet our special needs, not merely to reproduce the old in imitation of itself. Nature lends itself to the remodeling and suggests many ideas that help to identify the house with the personality of its owner. Everything attempted in the way of improvements can be broad and expansive and not congested, as would be necessary in the city. You should in every particular make the house grow to fit the surroundings and do it in such a way that it will seem to have been so always. Often the house has to be moved on its foundations to meet this need, but that is not a difficult matter to accomplish, if the timbers are stanch and the underpinning steady. If the owner's ideas are carried out, the house in its finished condition will be but an expression of his taste and understanding. In it we will be able to read his likes and dislikes. Unity should be the keynote of it all and should permeate not only the house itself in all its details, but its gardens, lawns, stables, and every aspect of the estate. [Illustration: THREE ACRES, FROM THE MAIN ROAD] There is a house that has been given rare individuality in this way at Duxbury, Massachusetts. As one drives along the picturesque country road, he comes to a winding lane that leads by graceful turns to a little brown farmhouse situated on the crest of a hill about three hundred yards from the main road. If the farmhouse alone is attractive, how much more so is it made by the entrance, for on either side are graceful elms that form an archway, disclosing the house beyond like a picture set in a rustic frame. On either side of the roadway one finds meadow lands and flower and vegetable gardens, everywhere dotted with graceful trees and the picturesque sumach. Vines clamber over the stone walls, partly hiding their roughness and giving their homelike atmosphere to the grounds. There are just three acres in this little property, bounded on two sides by delightful woodlands and on the others by rolling farmland and pastures; but there is room in even these small confines for a garden to supply the table all the year round and a bit of orchard where the gnarled old apple-trees are still fruitful. Originally the old farmhouse was in a most unprepossessing condition. It had been inhabited for many years by farmer folk who took little pains with its appearance either without or within. When Mrs. Josephine Hartwell Shaw, of Boston, was searching for a country seat where she could pursue her occupation away from the bustle of city life and unmolested by chance guests, she was attracted first of all to the quiet little town by the name of Duxbury. As she looked about for a suitable house, she was charmed with the location of this weather-beaten old building, and closer examination proved it well worth reclaiming, both from an artist's point of view and from that of her own individual requirements. [Illustration: THREE ACRES--FRONT VIEW] Like many of the farmhouses in eastern Massachusetts, it had that peculiar beauty which consisted largely in its simple and straightforward solution of the problems at hand. It was not the creation of a master architect but of ordinary builders and craftsmen following the traditions of their fathers, varied by the restrictions of local material and newer requirements. It is this rugged and sturdy simplicity that gives to it an enduring charm; it was the very lack of a set style that gave to the remodeling of it an unfailing zest, increased by the very difficulty of the experiment that might result in a woeful failure or a great success. In dealing with houses such as this, it is impossible for the architect to rely on any formula or book of rules to direct him in a correct restoration. It requires a much deeper study and an understanding of the problems that confronted the builder in erecting the structure and the conditions under which he worked. It is then that the spirit of the old house will be manifest, and its adaptation to modern requirements will be but the thought of former years revised to meet present needs. [Illustration: THREE ACRES--SIDE VIEW] There are few buildings that can claim a more sympathetic handling in their restoration than this early, pre-Georgian farmhouse, which is called Three Acres. The excellent line of the wide, gabled roof, broken by a succession of outbuildings, forms an unusually attractive picture, with the weather-stained shingles softened against a background of oak and pine trees. The house now faces away from the main road and fronts upon a wooded slope that falls sharply down to the shores of a picturesque little pond. This is partly hidden by dense woods that form a background and a windbreak for the house. Formerly the public road went along here within a few yards of the front of the house, but it has been abandoned for the broader highway in the rear, and only the vaguest traces of it remain to-day. The building was a two-story, shingled structure with an uncompromising squareness about it. The wide, gable roof sloped down to the stud of the first floor, giving but little room in the chambers above. It was of the central chimney type. In the rear, a small, gable-roofed ell had been added, and later still a flat-roofed shed at right angles to the ell, or parallel to the main house, was built. In still a third addition, a well was incorporated in the rear, under a continuation of the roof of the shed, and another small outhouse in an extension to the side. This seeming conglomeration of roofs in reality made a rather interesting and graceful play of line that lifted the little house from commonplaceness. It was found to be in such good condition on the exterior that little repairing was needed, but several alterations were made, adding both to the character of the building and the comfort of the occupants. The original front door opened very abruptly upon the stairs, leaving only enough hall space to open the door. This was remedied by the addition of a small, flat-roofed bay at the front, increasing the space in the hall by just that much. The old door with its bull's-eyes was used in the new position. The step before it was protected under the same roof, supported on two, small, square posts and a trellis at the sides, giving somewhat the effect of an old-time Colonial porch and serving not only the material purpose of adding room to the interior but of relieving the abrupt and uninteresting severity of the front lines. In the second story, unusually successful dormers were cut in both the back and front pitch of the roof. The plan of these dormers deserves especial study, as each group is in reality composed of three separate dormers, enlarging three rooms in the interior, but confined under the one flat roof. Note, too, how each end of the dormer extends beyond the middle portion, and how the shape of the windows accents the design. A new entrance was cut at the side toward the lane, and a screened veranda added, with a flat roof corresponding to that at the front. Several new windows were made necessary by the rearrangements in the interior, but they were placed with careful regard to the exterior proportion and balance. The glass used in the old windows when the house was bought was all the full size of the sashes, doubtless having been put there by some recent owner and seeming quite out of harmony with the details of the house; consequently they were replaced with small panes, twenty-four to a window, and the new windows were all of the casement type. The interior of the house with its ugly paint and paper, presented a rather hopeless appearance, that only a vivid imagination and an unwavering enthusiasm could have transformed into the attractive home that it is to-day. Beginning at the front, the cramped little hall was enlarged as has already been explained. This made a trifle more stair room, and the first seven steps reaching to the little landing were rebuilt with lower risers and broader treads that made ascent to the second floor a less arduous matter. On the left of the hall was the living-room, on the right a bedroom, and in the rear of the house the room originally designed for the kitchen; in each of these was a fireplace opening out of the one central chimney. The first step in the restoration consisted of tearing off the many layers of hideous wall-paper, removing the plaster where it was crumbling, and scraping the woodwork free from its dingy paint. In these operations a number of unexpected discoveries were made concerning the fine old paneling and great, hand-hewn beams that had been entirely covered up. [Illustration: A Corner of the Living Room] The only change made in the plan of this floor was in the corner beyond the living-room and at the end of the kitchen. This was originally divided into a tiny chamber opening from the living-room, and a pantry off the kitchen. These were thrown into one, and the openings to living-room and kitchen enlarged. The former bedroom window was changed to a door leading on to the screened veranda, and an attractive group of three casement windows replaced the one in the rear wall, overlooking the charming vista of winding lane and old apple-trees and meadows beyond. This little apartment has been treated as a sort of anteroom or really a wing of the living-room, and wall finish, paint, and furnishings all harmonize. [Illustration: The Living Room] In the living-room the fireplace holds the center of attention. It is faced with queer old Spanish tiles inserted at intervals in plain cement, the rich colorings of which give a quaintly exotic air to the fine white woodwork. The moldings about the frame and over the mantel are unusually fine for this type of house; the support of the heavy mantel shelf and the carved dentils in the ceiling cornice are especially interesting. At the right of the fireplace is a cupboard with an upper and lower door, in the old-time fashion; the upper one has small, square, mullioned panes of glass which disclose some attractive pieces of old china and silver. [Illustration: The Dining Room] In the kitchen, which was turned into the dining-room, the old fireplace had been bricked up to receive a stovepipe, and the woodwork had been plastered over and papered. The fireplace was opened up to its original size, large enough to accommodate a six-foot log, and in refacing it, the old, blackened, fire-burned bricks were used with delightful effect. The paneling about it is very simple, but the proportions are interesting, and the quaint, double-panel cupboards on each side lend the whole an insistent charm. The two, great, hand-hewn beams in the ceiling have been left exposed, and the fact that they have settled a little on their supports, sagging toward one end, only adds to the effect, just as the unevenness of a hand-drawn line is more beautiful than the accuracy of one ruled. These three rooms opening so closely into each other have been treated so that there is a harmonious and striking vista from every point. The walls are covered with a soft, creamy gray, and the hangings of Russian crash are of the same tone. The color is supplied in fireplaces, rugs, books, pictures, and such ornaments. In the dining-room, there has been a slight accent of blue and rose in rug and table runner and candle-shades. In the living-room the deep green of the upholstery carries the strongest note. The characteristically old-time furniture, with a pleasant mingling of Dutch and English and American motifs of the eighteenth century, has been arranged with studied care to preserve the possibilities of the open vistas from room to room. The entrance hall completes a delightful picture from the living-room; the soft gray colors of a lovely Japanese paper blend strikingly with tiny curtains of a wonderfully fresh old blue at the casement windows. The rag carpet carries this same blue up the white stairs to the second floor. The rooms on the right of the lower hallway have been kept nearly in their original state with the addition of fresh paint and attractive papers. They form a small suite of a study and bedroom, seeming quite apart from the rest of the house. On the second floor, a refreshing simplicity has been observed in the bedrooms. The dormers that have been cut in the roof add not only to their comfort but provide charming little bays and alcoves, giving unexpected opportunities for interesting furnishings. Quaint, old-time papers and hangings and coverlets on the four-poster beds, matched in rugs and cushions and candle-shades, contrast gaily with the spotless white paint. Considerable ingenuity has been necessary in planning this floor, as the original rooms were so tiny and space so very limited under the long slopes of the roof. The dormers gave the much needed increase in the size of the chambers, and part of the rear one was converted into the bathroom. In the ell and shed at the rear of the house, perhaps the most interesting feature of all is situated. A step lower than the dining-room and reached through swinging French doors of glass, is the little kitchen which has been fitted up in a most compact way. An additional window has been cut at the side to provide both light and air, and an outside door gives access to the small court on the far side of the house between the main building and the rear shed. This has been turned into a miniature old-fashioned garden, where it is pleasant to sit among the flowers. Back of the kitchen is the laundry and an old well, which has been drained and is now used as a cooling cellar, and the wire basket containing meats and milk and butter is drawn up and down on the old crank. Beyond this, the old wood and coal shed has been transformed into the studio. Here Mrs. Shaw designs all her beautiful jewelry work at the long work-table across the rear under the four long windows. Opening from it is a tiny little apartment used as an office, and here at a quaint desk, the designs for the metal work are sketched out, and the correspondence connected with the business end transacted. In the adaptation of the outbuildings to the special and unusual requirements of the owner, an excellent example is given to others who have individual hobbies such as this to accommodate. But throughout the building the needs and the personality of the owner have been as carefully if not as ostensibly expressed. There has been no thought of comfort or of service sacrificed in the effort to revive the atmosphere of the past, but rather has that very simplicity and straight-forwardness been utilized to banish all that might complicate entire convenience. The personality of the owner has been interwoven into every detail, and shows nowhere more strongly than in the preservation of all the delightful vagaries and unevenness of hand work played upon and mellowed by time. CHAPTER IX THE ROBERT SPENCER HOUSE The prospective house owner generally has little or no idea of how to go about designing his own home. If he chances to see some other house that strikes his fancy, he realizes that it approaches, at least in part, what he has in mind. How to accomplish his desire, however, he has no definite knowledge. He hesitates to call in an architect who is a stranger to him and knows nothing of his needs and habits and preferences; he fears that an attempt to combine his own ideas with those of the architect will result unsatisfactorily to both of them. To such a man as this, the remodeled farmhouse comes as a boon. From the old house he is able to determine what type his home will be; no matter how battered and worn it is to start with, he can get some impression of the possible room space and arrangement by studying other old interiors and their relation to each other. That is one of the reasons why the movement sweeping through the country to-day has become so extensive. It gives a substantial foundation upon which to develop an artistic home under one's own supervision. When a man purchases a weather-beaten farmhouse, it is evident that he is up against a real problem in remodeling, and the task demands plenty of time and a wide-awake, ingenious brain. If he consults his friends and neighbors across the way, doubtless their opinions differ so materially from his own that the result is worse than if he had solved the questions in his own way. We all have ideals, but it is not always easy to express them; they need to be developed in order to be made practical and require thought and diligent research if they are to be concretely embodied in the altered home. Paper and pencil are good friends at this stage of the game, and even a rough sketch drawn carelessly on the back of an old envelope, as an idea occurs, gives subject matter for larger schemes and more realistic results. Few people who are planning to spend the summer months in a new house realize how much their comfort depends upon light and space. It would be foolish for you to buy an old farmhouse and make the rooms small and cramped in size. You would lose a great part of the advantage of coming to the country to live, the pleasure of being as nearly out of doors as possible. Most of the old houses were cut up into small rooms, for, owing to the limited heating facilities in olden days, large rooms would have been freezing in winter; accordingly one or two bedrooms were invariably crowded into the first floor to receive the warmth from the kitchen. But it is almost always possible to tear out the partitions between some of the rooms and make them into one large apartment which can be used for living purposes. This can usually be done without weakening the structure; the floor above will be found to rest upon a great beam, or a new girder can be put across. If the stud is low, do not change it, or you will spoil the whole atmosphere of the place. A low stud and large rooms are good developments, so try to achieve them when you are making over the house. Have plenty of windows; in the old days, many windows meant a cold house in the winter, but if the farmhouse is to be used only as a summer home, the cooler the better. If for a winter residence also, modern systems of heating will counteract the difficulty. Windows of the long French type are especially desirable; they are more adapted to the requirements of country life, as they admit abundant light and air and are entirely in keeping with the style of the farmhouse. The house should represent a unit; the porch should be planned so that it leads into the living-room, and by throwing open the windows, will seem to become part of a large airy room. The dining-room should either be part of the living-room or open conveniently near. The service quarters must immediately adjoin the dining-room. If there is other space on the floor which cannot be used to increase the comfort of the two main rooms, well and good; it may then be devoted to whatever purpose you desire. But when the removal of partitions will make a place more pleasant to live in, it is always wise to make such a change. We know that there are few of these old houses that have not been cut up and divided; but the conditions which made that necessary in the earlier days have been changed, and for a simple country house one large living and dining-room is far better than divisions which shut out light and air. Many people look at these propositions from a limited view-point and do not stop to consider the complete idea. We all learn from houses that we visit what is right and what is wrong to do. If we look deeper into the subject and go farther afield, we find it pays to carefully develop the plan before commencing to rebuild. The requirements of elaborate modes of life, liveried servants and much entertaining, demand, of course, many apartments; reception-room and drawing-room, library and den seem essential in the house plan, but for those who come to the country to simplify existence, these are not needed. In remodeling your house, let three things be uppermost in your mind: convenience, comfort, and light; if you follow these, you will not go far astray. Even a very small house need not be devoid of these qualities. It may be very tiny and yet most attractive and complete in every detail. With careful thought and a broad conception of the whole, it is quite possible to make a place where it is a pleasure to visit and where even the casual guest realizes the application of small and interesting details in making a harmonious whole. Do not let your mind wander from the fact that the interior is of as much importance, and even more, than the exterior, for it is there that we live much of the time during the season, and it should therefore be harmonious and in good taste. The development of one room for common family use, and the elimination of the shut-up parlor for company, have brought about an atmosphere of simplicity that goes to make a perfect and livable house. [Illustration: THE ROBERT SPENCER HOUSE ON CAPE COD] This one-room idea has been charmingly carried out in a small house that has been remodeled for a summer home by Mr. Robert Spencer of New York and South Yarmouth. It is most attractively situated, standing far back from the road, with a background of pine trees that give a picturesque touch to the little cottage. Originally it stood on the opposite side of the bay, on the shores of Cape Cod at South Dennis, Massachusetts. Its possibilities seemed to the present owner worth developing, and he had it "flecked" and brought over the water to its present site. This was not a hard task to accomplish, as the timbers were stanch and in a good state of preservation. [Illustration: THE ROBERT SPENCER HOUSE--FRONT VIEW] It was a typical fisherman's cottage, with a wide gable roof sloping down to the first story and four small rooms about a central chimney. To meet the needs of the new owner, it required considerable enlargement. A two-story building was added at the rear and side, meeting the main house only along the corner. Little attempt was made to have the two harmonize, for not only are the roof lines of widely different types, but the frame of one is of white clapboarding and of the other weathered shingle. At the angle where they join, the roof of the old building has been raised to accommodate the higher stud in the new, thus making a break in it near the ridge. Two dormers have been cut in the main roof to give extra room in the second floor; these are flat-roofed and well spaced, with two windows occupying the entire front of each. A porch has been added across the whole front of the house and half of it is roofed over. This breaks with the slope of the main roof, but follows that of the dormers. A detail which adds much to the appearance of the exterior is the simple, square-posted fence that surrounds the porch and encloses a quaint little garden in the square formed by the angle of the two buildings. This same detail has been adopted at the side of the porch roof in an effective way. This fence, and the clapboards and trim of the house, are white, and the shutters and shingles are green. [Illustration] [Illustration: Two Views of the Living Room] The front door opens immediately into the living and dining-room which occupies the whole right side of the house and opens at the rear on to a grassy terrace. A triple window has been cut along the side to allow ample light and air. Small panes are used in these windows, and the French doors have glass of corresponding size. The feature of this room is the fine old fireplace at the center of the inside wall. It is very simple, with slight attempt at ornamentation, but the proportions are good, and the lines rather unusual. Over the fireplace is an old cupboard that used to be called a "nightcap closet" from the hospitable bottle which was kept there to be passed around among the men just before retiring. At the left is a cupboard with upper and lower doors; in the panels of the former, panes of glass have been inserted. This end of the room has been treated as the living-room and the opposite end as the dining-room. The woodwork is all white, and the roughly finished plaster is tinted a deep cream. Straight stairs lead to the second story along the wall at the dining end of the room. Here, about the walls, a wide molding has been carried over doors and windows, which serves as a plate-rail for numerous interesting old family plates and jugs. Beneath it, in several places, shelves have been bracketed to the wall to hold other pieces of china. The glass door at the end opens on to the terrace, and the paneled door beside it communicates with the kitchen and servants' quarters in the addition. The furnishings in this room admirably accord with the building in both age and simplicity. The older furniture has been supplemented with modern pieces of straightest and most unpretentious line and character. Clocks, mirrors, pictures, andirons, and fire-set are family heirlooms. The coverings on the floor are large and plain rag carpets; at the windows are simple muslin curtains, with overhangings of Colonial chintz in soft colors harmonizing with the cheerful and sunny atmosphere of the room. At the left of this room, occupying the other side of the house, are two bedrooms. One of them is the children's own room and has been furnished very attractively; fresh white tables and chairs harmonize with the older mahogany pieces and lend an air of distinctive charm to the apartment. [Illustration] [Illustration: The Attic Chambers] The space up-stairs is divided into large and small rooms under the eaves. The slope of the roof allows room for many built-in drawers and closets, and every inch has been utilized. The white paint and the simple white furniture arranged with a care and precision that is worthy of emulation contribute to make the effect of these rooms light and airy and inviting. The Japanese crêpe or gay cretonne curtains at the windows add just the necessary touch of color. The lighting fixtures in the house demand especial notice, as it is so difficult a matter to attain a distinction in them when a house has not been wired but must depend upon older methods of illumination than electricity or gas. A number of simple candle brackets attaching to the wall have been purchased, and these are placed symmetrically in pairs, balancing each other on either side of a fireplace or mirror or window. The candlesticks for shelf or table have been arranged with equal precision, and some are given all the more importance by attractive hand-made shades. An occasional simple, square, candle lantern hangs from the ceiling to contribute to the effect. The table and reading lamps have been chosen with equal success. CHAPTER X THE DAVENPORT BROWN HOUSE In planning the remodeling of a farmhouse, has it ever occurred to you how much of the appearance of the exterior depends upon the architecture of verandas and porches? Not only must we give much thought to the alteration of the lines of the house which may be required by the interior plan, but we must be equally careful when it comes to the addition of entirely exterior features. Modern country life demands plenty of veranda room and, whenever possible, sleeping-porches. One does not go to the country to sit indoors, even if the windows are all thrown open. There is nothing that will so materially improve the health as outdoor life; tired and jaded nerves are soon restored by use of a sleeping-porch, where the fresh air can soothe and induce restful slumber. In the early days, the porch or veranda did not exist; it may be supposed that our pioneer ancestors were too busy to enjoy any leisurely hours out of doors; at least, they made no provision in connection with their houses for such relaxation. As the details of the exterior became more elaborate, the entrance porch was developed with free-standing columns. In time, this assumed greater importance, especially in the south, where columns the height of the whole building supported a roof across its entire front. In the north, the veranda was less frequently used, but there is occasional authority for both the front and the less pretentious back piazza. It is one of the additions which are imperative in remodeling the house, however, and it becomes something of a problem because there is no more definite authority for it. If there is to be simply an entrance porch, offering a bit of shelter at the front door for stranger or friend, it may have much precedent in the porches of Georgian houses. In planning this, take into consideration that it should be an index of what one will find in the interior; it should be the keynote, as it were, of the entire house. Here we may have the same details and the same proportions as in the cornice of the roof, or the fireplace within. We find many porches that are sadly out of keeping with the rest of the house and seem very carelessly designed. It is far better to have none at all than one which is insignificant and out of scale; yet it must not be more elaborate than the house itself and tend to dwarf the main structure. Few people realize how important this feature is and how necessary that it should be a satisfactory adjunct to the architecture of the whole. It is almost the first thing we notice as we approach the house. Whether it is well placed and rightly proportioned, whether it has a proper overhang, good roof lines, and adequately supported cornice, affects to a very great extent the style and character of the house. There were a great many different types of porch in the Georgian houses: the simple hood with a high-backed settle on either side that was commonly used at a side entrance; the gable-roofed and flat-roofed, square porch and circular, open and partly enclosed, with round and oval windows at the sides, were all developed to high perfection. The simple, Doric column, plain or fluted, with corresponding pilasters or three-fourths round against the house, was used on many of the porches; but the Ionic and Corinthian capitals are more elaborate than is appropriate for the simplicity of a farmhouse. From the infinite number of models which can be found, it should be a comparatively easy matter to construct an entrance porch, utilizing the details found in the house. A veranda demands somewhat different manner of procedure. First it is necessary to decide where it shall be put. Where will it receive the best air and the least sun? It must, presumably, open from or adjacent to the living-room and yet be so placed that its roof will not cut off too much light. If the house is uncomfortably near the highway or neighbors, the matter of privacy cannot be neglected, and a thought may well be given to the outlook from the piazza. Let it enjoy any advantage of a fine view or a picturesque garden that may be compatible with its other requirements. Thus it may be at the front, at either or both sides, or in the rear. At the side of the ordinary, gable-roofed house, the roof of the veranda should as a rule be flat. If it is possible to continue the roof line of the house to include that of the porch, by all means let it be done; the unbroken sweep will usually be found excellent. At some angles it may seem too long and severe; then it is often possible to put a slight "kick" in it, especially if there is anything of the Dutch type about the building. The floor of the porch in farmhouses should be low; it may be on a level with that of the house, or a step below it. It is well to let the underpinning be a continuation of that of the house, and it may then be covered with brick or tile, or the conventional boards. The columns or posts which support the roof are a stumbling block for many remodelers. These should closely copy the entrance porch, if there is one; even if it be no more than a flat semblance of a pilaster about the frame of the door, it will supply the correct motive. Lacking this, there will undoubtedly be some detail in the interior which can be magnified to the right proportion for the exterior,--the upright of a mantel or the frame of a door. For a house which can boast no such source of suggestion, a straight, square post with a simple molding would be the solution. The cornice should follow the detail of the entrance door or the house cornice; and it is effective and increases the apparent unity to repeat the decoration of the one on the other. The rails and balusters of old houses were extremely simple and should be kept so in the remodeling. In the very early examples, the balusters were square and spaced far apart; later both square and turned balusters were used, and they were spaced twice their width. The design for these can often be taken from the stairs in the interior of the house. It is the modern tendency to use no railing about verandas, particularly when they are low or when they are screened in. Some of the flat-roofed type had a railing around the roof, and an open-air porch was thus made for the second story. Sometimes this porch can be utilized as a sleeping-porch on the second floor. This feature, while of course entirely foreign to the farmhouse, has become as much a necessity in many families as the open-air living-room, and it is therefore logical to introduce it where possible to do so without destroying the lines of the building. It is better, however, to do without it than to add it in such a way that it will seem an afterthought and not really incorporated in the structure. Often it can be placed in a wide dormer cut in the slope of the roof; sometimes the roof line can be extended over the roof of the sleeping-porch, or again it may be merely a room with the walls largely cut away. Each remodeler will have his own problem in connection with this, and by ingenuity and careful study must work it out to his own satisfaction. Remember always that the integral simplicity of the building must not be disturbed, and that whether it be sleeping-porch, veranda, or entrance portico, it must seem always a part of the original building, as if it were the conception of the master craftsman who erected the first timbers. [Illustration: THE DAVENPORT BROWN HOUSE] Most gratifying results along this line are shown in an old farmhouse at Medfield, Massachusetts, which was built in 1755. Like many other old houses, this had fallen into decay and stood neglected and unoccupied by the side of the road while the extensive grounds lay unkempt and desolate. But Mr. Davenport Brown recognized in it a house that could be made to serve most acceptably as the foundation of his summer home. It is of the Georgian type, built with the hall and straight flight of stairs as the axis. There are two main chimneys opening into four fireplaces on the first floor. A service wing has been added at the left, parallel with the main building, and half its width. Back of that, an ell of equal size extends at right angles. Both of these are two storied, but the upper stud is somewhat lower than in the main building, thus allowing it to retain its predominance in the design. The main part is given further importance by the dignified entrance porch. Two three-fourths round and two free-standing, fluted, Doric columns are used, supporting a cornice and a gabled roof, the details of which repeat those in the cornice of the house. A rather unusual type of scalloped dentation lends additional interest. The frame about the door is arched over, and there are side lights and an overhead fanlight in a simple style that carries out the Colonial tradition. [Illustration: The Hallway] The hall leads past the stairs and through an open doorway to the rear of the house, where there is another entrance, repeating the design of the front one. This is some distance from the rear wall of the house, and consequently there is a small, arched-over portico formed within the lines of the building. The walls of this are paneled, and on each side is a built-in seat. The floor is tiled, and the woodwork painted white. At each end of the main part of the building is a flat-roofed veranda carrying out the details of the entrance porch in column and cornice. The same dentil ornamentation that appears on the cornice of the house is used here in smaller size, as on the entrance porch. Around the edges of the flat roofs, boxes filled with blooming plants and vines form an original and most attractive method of softening the sharp lines and finish of the house. The veranda on the right side overlooking the wide lawns and gardens is used largely as the outdoor living-room and is screened in. The spacing of the bars and framework of the screening is well proportioned and adds not a little to the decoration. The floor of the veranda is edged with brick and paved in the center with square tiles which slope toward a drain at one side. This wing of the living-room has been comfortably furnished with canvas hammocks and Chinese grass chairs and stools, and even a sand-box for the children finds room here. In the central hall, the details carry out the character of the old period carefully. There is a white unpaneled wainscot carved around the walls and up the stairs, with a similar treatment in the second-floor hall. The stairs are wide, with white risers and mahogany treads, and the hand-rail is mahogany supported on white, turned balusters and a mahogany newel post. The upper walls are papered in a gray landscape paper, and the furnishings consist of a pair of Sheraton card tables. [Illustration: The Sun-Parlor or Out-door Nursery] [Illustration: The Library] At the right of the hall, the two rooms have been combined into a living-room by cutting double arches on either side of the fireplaces which open from the back and front of the chimney. The furnishings are especially interesting here, as there are a number of rare and beautiful pieces. The mantel mirror over the front fireplace is a fine example of American workmanship. The mahogany frame divides its length into three sections, and it is ornamented with carved and gilded husk festoons; the scroll top is surmounted with a gilt spread eagle. In front of the fire there is a beautiful little Sheraton fire-screen. Chairs and tables are equally interesting; there is an old "comb-back" chair and an upholstered "Martha Washington" chair, as well as more modern easy chairs and davenports. The upholstery and curtains are of small-patterned, Colonial fabrics that carry out the spirit of the room. In the back part of this room, a large double window has been cut, looking out over the gardens and the grounds. Underneath it is a most attractive window-seat suggestive of an old-time settle, and on each side low book-shelves extend around the whole end of the room. The dining-room is situated at the left of the hallway. The fireplace and paneling hold the attention in this room. The woodwork is very simple but well proportioned, and on either side of the mantel are narrow, built-in, china closets with small, leaded, diamond panes in both upper and lower parts of the door and even in a transom over it. The walls above the unpaneled wainscot are painted white and divided into simple, large panels with narrow moldings. The furniture in this room is suggestive of the early part of the nineteenth century, with the exception of the Queen Anne type of chair. Over the heavy and massive sideboard is a long gilt mirror of the Empire "banister" type; between the two side windows is a gilt, convex girandole with three branching candlesticks on each side. On the mantel is a fine example of a Willard shelf clock, and on each side of it are tall mahogany candlesticks with the old-fashioned wind glasses. The over-curtains at the windows are a soft rose damask; they hang from gilded cornices and are caught back on gilded rosettes,--the style of draping which is carried out in all the main rooms of the house. [Illustration: The Service Wing] The service wing opens from the left of the dining-room, and the den, which is back of it, with a fireplace on the opposite side of the same chimney, is reached from the rear of the hall. [Illustration: The Nursery] At the head of the stairs at the right, one enters the bright and sunny nursery. Here the fireplace is very simple and has no over-mantel. The woodwork is white, and a broad molding divides the upper part of the wall. Below is a quaint paper picturing Mother Goose scenes which the children never tire of studying. The furniture is mainly white, and the little chairs and tables in child's size are decorated in peasant fashion with painted flowers and lines of color. [Illustration] [Illustration: Two of the Chambers] There are two other bedrooms in the main part of the house and each has an open fireplace. The furnishings are simple and old-fashioned in character, retaining the Colonial atmosphere admirably. In one room there is a Field bedstead of English make, dating about 1780, showing reeded posts and a curved canopy top. The chairs and the little night stand at the side of the bed are in close harmony with the period of its design. In the other chamber are twin beds which are modern reproductions of four-posters, but other furnishings retain the distinctive atmosphere of age. Over one bureau there is a fine mirror with the Georgian eagle ornamentation; in keeping with it are the old fireside wing chair and a side chair of Sheraton type. The most interesting bedroom, perhaps, is in the wing of the house, where Hannah Adams, the first American authoress, was born. This is reached by a cross hall which leads from the main one, and gives access to baths and rear stairs and another tiny bedroom. Although the old fireplace has been remodeled, the aspect of the room is much the same as when the house was built. The woodwork here is all dark, and the hand-hewn rafters and cross beams are exposed in the ceiling. An unusual wall-paper in black and gay colors forms an interesting background for the four-poster and other old furnishings. An old batten door with a quaint little window in the center strip leads from this room to the chambers in the service ell. Much of the house has been restored under the direction of the architect, Mr. John Pickering Putnam of Boston, and to him the credit for its successful remodeling must be largely given. The planning and laying out of the grounds about the house, however, are the work of the owner, who has spared no pains to make a harmonious setting for his home. Between the house and the road is a row of great overshadowing elms that make a delightful setting for the red and white of the house. The drive sweeps around these trees to the stable on the left and is separated from the house and the lawns by white palings in a simple Colonial pattern, having fine, carved posts surmounted by balls. The fence stops at either side of the front to allow wide space for a heavy embankment of conifers. Somewhat back of this fence, along the whole length of the lawn, is a second lower one, with posts of the same height. This marks the boundary of the wide lawn and forms a charming background for an old-fashioned hardy border that extends all the way to a swimming-pool and pergolas at the far end. Immediately behind the house is the flower garden, from which all the blossoms used to decorate the house are cut; this is screened by a white trellis and pergola, carrying out some of the details of the entrance porches and verandas. CHAPTER XI THE DOCTOR CHARLES E. INCHES HOUSE A very interesting feature in an old farmhouse is the fireplace, which varies in size with the age of the house; the oldest ones are large, with cavernous mouths, since they were the only means of heating the house. These are capable of holding a ten-foot log, for it must be remembered that at that period of our country's history the woods grew at the very door. A few of these old fireplaces are found to-day, principally in the old kitchens or living-rooms, although occasionally we see an old house which has them in almost every room. There is a great variety in their design as well as size, some being very simple and framed in wood, while others show tiling; occasionally we find elaborate carving, but this is in the better class building rather than in the simple little farmhouse. These details denote the different periods and also the wealth of the former owner. With the introduction of stoves, many fireplaces were bricked in to accommodate an air-tight stove which gave more heat and saved fuel. One unaccustomed to the features of an old farmhouse would infer a lack of fireplaces. The removal of brick and mortar, however, reveals the large, cavernous hearth which was often three feet deep and sometimes showed a second bricking in, to make it smaller. Often in the narrowing of the fireplace, tiles are used, generally Dutch, which are blue and white in coloring. Occasionally in opening up these fireplaces, one comes across rare old andirons that were considered of too little value to be removed; old cranes and kettles are also found, of the type common in the days of our early ancestors. It must be remembered that the chimneys of these old houses were often six feet square and had many fireplaces opening from them. It was the central feature of the house, around which the rooms were built. The earliest chimneys were daubed in clay, and in the masonry oak timbers were often used. In remodeling a house many people tear down these old chimneys for the space which may be converted into closet use and alcoves, making a smaller chimney do service. In the olden times, when the first chimneys were erected, they were so carefully built that they were less liable to smoke than the smaller ones, so that it is better to let the old one remain if possible. Brick was generally used in the construction, although sometimes we find stone. It was not the finished brick of to-day but rough and unfaced. This was not true, however, of those which formed a part of cargoes from abroad, more especially those brought from Holland. The use of stone was not popular, as it was apt to chip when brought in contact with the heat; this is also true of the hearthstones, where the flagging became rough and most unsatisfactory. The fireback was a feature of some of the old fireplaces. The earliest of these made in our country were cast in Saugus, Massachusetts, and some were most elaborate in design. Often coats-of-arms and initials were worked out in their construction. In addition to the brick and stone, soapstone facings were sometimes shown, but seldom do we come across good carving. The crane was a feature of the fireplace, and on it were hung the pothooks from which depended the iron and brass pots in which food was cooked. In one side of the bricks, just at the left of the fireplace, was often a large brick oven with an iron door, and here on baking days roaring wood fires were kindled to heat the bricks before the weekly baking was placed within. Examination of these old ovens will be very apt to reveal the age of the house. In the remodeling it is well to leave the fireplaces much as they stand, with the exception of bricking them in, for the old ones allowed too much air to come down the chimney, and at the present high price of wood, we are not able to indulge in the ten-foot logs that were in evidence in our grandmothers' time. A house with many fireplaces that stands back from the winding country road on the border line between Medfield and Walpole in Massachusetts was chosen for a summer home by Charles E. Inches. It is shaded now as it was long ago by large, old elms whose widespreading branches seem to add a note of hospitality to this most attractive estate. Possibly there are better examples of the restored farmhouse than this one found at Medfield, but it is very picturesque, not only in type but in surroundings. It stands near a turn of the road, where it was erected, in 1652, situated in a sheltered glen and protected from cold winds. [Illustration: Front View showing the Old Well] At that time it was a small and unpretentious building about twenty feet long and showing in the interior fine examples of hand-hewn timbers. Even in its dilapidated state it was most attractive, with its many fireplaces and old woodwork. This particular house has two values, the one relating to its historical record and the other to its old-time construction. Through two centuries this little farmhouse had been the home of the Adams family, a branch that was near in kin to the presidential line of Adams who lived at Quincy, Massachusetts. [Illustration: Before Remodeling] At the time of its building, a stream wound in and out through the meadow land that was a part of the property. It was such a large stream that it afforded sufficient power to run an old mill that originally stood on the estate and which for many years ground the neighbors' grain. On a ridge opposite the house, worn stone steps lead up through pastures to a sturdy oak which stands nearly opposite the front of the house and is known in history as the "whipping tree." Here, in Colonial days, wrong-doers were tied to be whipped. Just before we reach the stone wall, which was laid probably by the slaves held by the landowner of that period, we find an old mounting-block. On the side of one of the stones are the figures 1652; and it was from this block that many a Colonial dame mounted to her pillion to ride in slow and dignified style behind her worthy squire. Even in those days the grounds were very extensive and reached for many acres. These to-day have been reclaimed and laid down to grass land and garden. [Illustration: Across the Lawn] Half way between the house and the tennis court which defines the estate is a wonderful old garden which has been designed not so much for show purposes as to supply flowers all through the season. This is not the only garden on the place, for back of it is the vegetable garden and the old-fashioned one. The dividing line between the two is a row of stately trees which hide the former from view at the front of the house. Rows of apple-trees, many of which were on the estate when it was first purchased, remnants of the original orchard, surround in part the tennis court, behind which is a swimming pool which is in frequent use. This is about twenty-five feet long and twelve wide, cemented to a depth of seven feet; with its background of tall poplars it is very artistic and lends itself to all sorts of water contests. During the latter part of the nineteenth century, new life came to the old house. It had stood for years, weather-beaten and old, guarding the family name. While the outside was very attractive and in tolerably good repair, it was the interior that appealed especially. There was beautiful old wainscoting and paneling of wide boards, some of which was split from logs at least thirty inches in width. Great reverence was paid by the owner to the original structure, particularly to the old kitchen with its large, brick fireplace and chimney which was restored to its early beauty. Sagging plaster was removed, and underneath were found well-preserved, hand-hewn beams and rafters. These were carefully cleaned and considered of such great beauty that they were left exposed as far as possible, more especially those which showed the sign of the adze. The walls, which had been previously neglected, were stripped of wall-papers which were in some places ten thicknesses deep. In removing one of these, a wonderfully fine landscape paper was discovered, and although every attempt was made to save it, it was too far defaced. Under the paper was a wide paneling of white pine, so good that it needed only a slight restoration. In the opening of the fireplace the crane, pothook, and hangers were found to be intact, while many pieces of ancestral pewter and copper were polished and placed in proper position on the wide, receding chimney. This was to give it the look of the olden days, when pewter was used for the table. There was no bricking in of this old fireplace, for it was considered such a wonderful example that it was left in its original state. The old flint-lock that did service in the early war was hung over the fireplace, while from the chimney hook the old-time kettles were swung much as they did in the days when they were used for cooking purposes. The old brick oven used by the Adams family was not removed, and at one side of the fireplace a long braid of corn was hung in conformity with the custom of that period. The hand-hewn rafters and beams have been left intact in this room, as has the old woodwork, so that the kitchen, now used as a den, is an exact reproduction of the original room. It is the most interesting apartment in the house, being situated at the right of the entrance and furnished with old family heirlooms, including five rare slat-back chairs, a rush-bottomed rocking-chair, and a settle of the same period. Even the wide boards that were used in the original flooring have been retained, and the old brick hearth, showing wide bricks such as are never found in modern residences. To meet present requirements, the cellar was cemented, and a furnace added, in order that the occupants need not depend entirely on the fireplaces for heat. [Illustration: The Hall and Stairway] In the hallway, the stairway, following the lines of many Colonial houses, rises at one side. Here the wall-paper is wonderfully preserved, being in the old colors of yellow and white and of a very old design. It was made in England over a century ago and gives an appropriate atmosphere to the entrance of the attractive old home. [Illustration: The Living Room] The living-room, which is spacious and comfortable, is at the right just before you enter the den. The woodwork has been painted white, following the Colonial idea, while old-fashioned, diamond-paned windows have been substituted for the original ones. Here, as throughout all the house, one comes unexpectedly upon groups of shelves filled with books. There are built-in cupboards that provide places for the wonderful collection of books, many of which are rare editions, owned by the present occupants. Like every room in the house, this shows several tables of unusually fine design, a handsome side-wing chair, and a few other choice pieces. The great open fireplace with its Colonial accessories lends much to the hominess of this room. At the left of the hallway is the large and spacious dining-room, which is in reality three rooms opened into one, the partitions showing in the beamed ceilings. The walls are finished in green textile and are left unornamented with the exception of one or two choice pictures. There was a method in the construction of this room which was planned for unbroken spaces to bring out to advantage the lines of the beautiful old sideboard. Then, too, the space shows off the lines of the rush-bottomed chairs that are used for dining-chairs. The mantel, framed in white wood, is hung with rare porringers, ranging from large to baby size. There is a restful atmosphere about this room, that, combined with its perfect setting, is most refreshing. At the farther end of the room, French doors open upon the sun parlor which is used during the summer months for a breakfast-room. This overlooks the garden. The bedrooms up-stairs are large and airy, each one of them being carefully furnished with Colonial pieces which include four-posters, high and lowboys as well as quaint, old-time chests of drawers that can do service as bureaus, or as storage space for extra blankets, hangings, or rugs. The floors throughout the entire house are of hard wood, many of them being the original ones that were laid when the house was built. Rare old Chippendale, Sheraton, and Hepplewhite chairs are used in the furnishings, while hand-woven rugs cover the floors. The windows are screened by chintz hangings of bright colors and gay designs, and the whole house presents a sunny, restful atmosphere. At the rear of the house an ell has been added where the new kitchen with all modern conveniences, pantries, servants' dining and sitting rooms are found. Thus while the exterior features of the old house have been carefully preserved, the addition of the ell gives comfort and convenience to the new building. Shrubbery has been planted around the house, and a veranda thrown out; window-boxes filled with brilliantly blossoming plants add a bit of color to the remodeled farmhouse which is painted red with white trim. Velvety lawns have replaced the old-time farming lands, and the planting of trees has done much to add to the picturesqueness of this estate. The grounds themselves are extensive, covering forty-five acres, and the natural beauties are unusually varied. Broad stretches of fields and hills intersected with trees make a most appropriate setting for the old Adams homestead. CHAPTER XII THE CHARLES MARTIN LOEFFLER HOUSE It was a staircase that was responsible for the remodeling of one house which had no other unusual feature. It was designed by a village carpenter whose object was four walls and a shelter rather than architectural beauty. The structure was so simple and unobtrusive that it did not arouse any enthusiasm in the heart of the architect who examined it, for it presented no chance to show his ability in its remodeling. It was the kind of a farmhouse that one would find in almost any suburban town, built without any pretensions, its only good feature being the staircase which saved it from passing into oblivion and caused it to be remodeled into a charming, all-the-year-round home. It had been unoccupied for a long period and with exterior weather-beaten and interior uninhabitable, it presented a forlorn appearance, repelling to most would-be purchasers. It stood by the side of a traveled road and in its best days was occupied by a farmer and his family who cared more for the barn adjoining the house than they did for the farmhouse itself. The estate was a large one that had been neglected and allowed to run down until weeds and rank grass were so intermingled that it seemed a discouraging task to bring it back into a good state of cultivation. Adjoining the house, and connected with it by a shed, was a large barn with sagging roof and so dilapidated that it seemed past restoring. Across the front, defining the estate, was once a neat paling fence that had been torn down until only a small portion remained. Many acres of the estate were meadow-land which swept to the horizon of trees, yet the once fine apple orchard, though sadly in need of pruning, showed promise, and there were possibilities in the whole estate that needed only attention and development to make them profitable. There had been no one to care for the old house, and it stood discouraged by the roadside awaiting a sympathetic owner. [Illustration: Before Remodeling] It was in this condition when first seen by Mr. Charles Martin Loeffler, whose experienced eye discerned its possibilities. It is the wise man who fits his house to his grounds and who in the general scheme considers its surroundings. The grass land, the garden, the orchards, the fencing of the estate, each one of which demands separate treatment, should be so arranged that they will be profitable in the end. The new owner realized this and also that he could not be too careful in combining house and garden so that they would make a harmonious whole. The location was ideal, quiet and retired and exactly what had been most desired, so the remodeling was placed in the hands of a careful architect, who, after thoroughly considering the situation, decided it could not be done. It was then that Mr. Loeffler took the matter into his own hands, drawing exact plans of what was necessary to achieve the desired result, and it was under his personal direction that the workmen began to remodel the unattractive little cottage. It was borne in mind that even the addition of a porch or veranda must be carefully considered to avoid confusion of architecture so that the house itself, when finished, should follow a single idea and not a composite mass of details that were entirely out of place and in bad taste. It was realized that no house, no matter how situated, should have discordant surroundings. Out-buildings should not be allowed to mar the symmetry of the house and should be removed so that they would not be an eyesore but in keeping with the general plan. The house itself, however, demanded attention first; it was very small, with a pitched roof in the upper story and a long ell connecting it with the farm buildings. The exterior was left practically as when first purchased, with the exception of a small and well-planned porch at the front, a long ell for servants' quarters, and a wide veranda at the rear that extended the entire length of the house. In the porch settles were added on either side which help to give the house an air of dignity and invite the guest to rest and enjoy the beautiful scenery. [Illustration: As Remodeled] The screened-in veranda at the back is used as an out-of-doors living-room. It is wide, carpeted with rugs, and furnished with simple but substantial pieces. It is a most comfortable place, where charming views and wonderful vistas can be enjoyed, for beyond lie the old orchard with the meadows between and a background of finger-pointed pines that seemingly melt into the blue of the sky. Trellises were built on the garden side of the house to carry vines, but this was after the house had been given a coat of white paint and the blinds painted green. Over the veranda a balcony was built which can be used for outdoor sleeping purposes if desired. The picket fence was restored and painted white to match the coloring of the house, and a stone wall was built at the farther end to enclose the garden; on the outside wild shrubs were planted to give a note of color to the gray stone. The old trees, pruned, took on a new life and are now in a most nourishing condition; across the entire front, as a partial screening, silver-leafed poplars were planted. The farm lands were reclaimed, new trees planted in the old apple orchard, and at the side of the house an attractive garden was laid out with a background of apple-trees. It was a small garden, only about an eighth of an acre in size, and filled with old-fashioned flowers to make it harmonize with the period in which the house was built. A single path divides it in two, and its color schemes have been given careful study. At one side of the garden a rustic pergola has been built with a central path of grass, and over this a grapevine has been trained which makes it a restful, shady place in summer, while in early fall the vines are loaded with great clusters of purple grapes. Everywhere surrounding the garden are stretches of green lawns that prove a fitting setting to the bright blossoms in the trim and well-kept beds. The fields beyond have been brought back to a good state of cultivation and present a beautiful green tract beyond which stretch rich meadows with waving grass where flit the bobolink and the red-winged blackbird. In the trees around the house orioles and robins nest, while everywhere the old apple-trees grow, many of them gnarled and twisted with age. In the early fall, loaded with fruit, they form an attractive color note of red and yellow in the landscape. Great care has been taken to remove the branches of the old trees in order to afford attractive vistas. This gives a landscape picture carefully planned and creates a delightful feeling of restfulness and a sense of relief from the bustle of city life. Over the porch has been built a lattice to be covered eventually with rambler roses, and in order to obtain more light, clusters of windows have been let in on either side of the front door. The interior as well as the exterior has been carefully planned with a regard to light and views. One enters the house through the little porch and finds himself in a spacious hallway which extends to the living-room. The staircase is at the right of the' entrance. It is not a primitive affair of the ladder type which is the earliest on record; neither is it steep with flat treads, high risers and molded box stringers, but the kind that shows simple posts and rail with plain balusters. It is of the box stringer type and has no carving in either post or balusters; it is perfectly straight and leads by easy treads to the second-story floor. [Illustration: The Dining Room] The dining-room is at the left of the hallway and is a room built for comfort and for everyday life, showing plenty of windows. A feature is the great, open fireplace and the bricked chimney-breast, with small closets at one side. The woodwork in this room is the same that was in the house when it was discovered by Mr. Loeffler and, cleaned and treated to a coat of paint, is most attractive. The wide board floor has been retained and stained dark to bring out the color schemes of the rugs. [Illustration] [Illustration: Two Views of the Living Room] This room leads directly into the living-room which extends entirely across the house and is also entered from the hallway. Its windows face the green fields studded with trees and also overlook the old-fashioned garden which is near enough to the house so that every summer breeze wafts the perfume of its flowers to the occupants. A central feature is a bricked-in fireplace that has been built into the room. Instead of plastering, the old oaken cross-beams have been left in their original state, and the room is finished with a wainscot painted white, above which is a wall covering of Japanese grass-cloth. Bookcases form an important furnishing of this room which also contains many pieces of antique furniture. It is a cheerful, homelike apartment, into which the sun shines practically all day long. Through large French windows one steps from the living-room on to the veranda. The second story is devoted to chambers and bath. Its location has a distinctive charm, as it is not too near the city or too far away from neighbors. It is well adapted for outdoor living, with its wide, inviting veranda and the side garden where bloom the stately phlox, the gaudy poppies, and the bright-hued marigold. [Illustration: THE STUDIO OPPOSITE THE CHARLES M. LOEFFLER HOUSE] [Illustration: The Music Room in the Studio Building] As time went on, the house grew too small for the owner's needs, and so another house just across the way that had passed its prime and stood desolate and deserted was also purchased and remodeled into a studio, one room expressly designed for Mr. Loeffler's work,--large and commodious with high, vaulted ceiling. Here, too, a veranda was built across one end that can be used if need be for an outdoor living-room. It is shaded by many trees, more especially some fine old elms whose graceful branches shadow the house, while a stretch of lawn extends to the street. Across the front a paling fence corresponding in style to that across the street was built, entrance being through a swinging gate that leads directly to the outside porch. This house shows less remodeling than the first one; it is principally in the interior that changes have been made. The whole front of the house is made into a music-room of unusual type, being hung with pictures of the old masters. Here the second-story flooring has been removed, and the ceiling vaulted and sheathed, in order to secure acoustic properties. A large chimney has been introduced into the inner wall, with brick mantel and chimney breast, and big enough to hold a six-foot log. The floors are of polished hardwood, and the ornamentation shows Chinese ships hung upon the walls,--an interesting feature for interior decoration. The room is entered through French windows that lead on to the outside porch. In addition to the music-room, this house is also used for the caretaker and week-end guests. The long ell at one side is used for the former, while at the back of the music-room several rooms are fitted up for the use of guests, thus solving a problem that is to-day vexing the minds of many a house owner, more especially in suburban towns. There is about the whole place a restfulness that has been achieved by careful planning and attention to details. There is no part of the estate where one may wander without coming upon picturesque bits of landscape, that while apparently in their natural state, yet are restored and preserved with a true appreciation of nature. This estate is a lesson in reclaiming and remodeling that cannot fail to be instructive to all home builders. It goes to show that forethought and ingenuity can create a comfortable and inviting home in the midst of desolation, and transform an old dilapidated cottage into a charming and picturesque abode. CHAPTER XIII LITTLE ORCHARD The old farmhouse can well be copied as a type for the modern summer home, for its lines are excellent, and its design is often so striking that it lends itself to easy reproduction. To the house owner of to-day it may seem a little strange that, with the trend of modern improvements, the old houses should be used for this purpose, and the architecture of the master builders of long ago shown preference over that of modern architects who have given their life to this subject. The builders and designers of old houses had to depend on their own ideas or possibly on a few designs that were sent over in the cumbersome ships that plied between England and the new country,--the work of Sir Christopher Wren, one of the most celebrated architects of his day. There are no more satisfactory details of house construction than we find in these old houses, where fireplaces, doors, porches, and carving show individuality. These ideas, modified and improved upon, are found in many a twentieth-century home, lending a dignity and charm that would otherwise be lacking. If you are remodeling an old house and wish to change a fireplace that is unsatisfactory or a stairway that is not artistic in design, do not introduce modern ideas, but rather seek for an old house that is being torn down and from it take bits that will satisfactorily fit into the work of remodeling. It is not a hard matter to find details of this kind, for many an old farmhouse has been neglected so long that it is past redemption, and it is the blending of the old with the old that does much to keep distinctive the period that you are seeking to preserve. Sometimes the house has been badly mutilated, often to such an extent that its best features are disguised, and it is a serious problem to eliminate the wrong ideas and duplicate the original. The old craftsmen before Colonial times were apt to build houses along certain lines which often failed to bring proper results; details varied and sometimes were incongruous with the type of the house. The first houses were generally one-roomed; later, other rooms like units were gathered around it, and the result in some cases was the appearance of a lean-to. Later on came the ell, and, to save steps, chambers were designed on the lower floor, leading off the main rooms of the houses. Naturally in houses of this kind the largest room was the kitchen, for this was the family-living-room, more especially during the cold weather. We will find as we examine an old farmhouse that the dominant portion of the building was the first floor, and that the chambers were adapted to the lower-story plan. These were not always satisfactory, as little or no care was given to the arrangement of the rooms, and in many houses closets were little considered. The partitions between these rooms were not double, like those found to-day, but were made of matched board and accommodated themselves to the framework. Later on plastering came into vogue and this made the rooms warmer and much more habitable. The windows were generally spaced carefully and were in harmony with the front door, making an attractive exterior. The walls were of wood, often with a layer of brick to keep out the cold and also to form a better protection. The roofs, more especially in the early houses, were very steep, since they were planned for thatching; later on, when shingles came into use, they grew lower and wider. It was not until 1700 that the gambrel roof came into style. In considering the evolution of the house we must look backward, and thus we come to realize the progression of architecture. We then discover that every old house shows interesting features, and it is the house with a history that makes its greatest appeal to the antiquarian; while the revival of Colonial architecture brings a renewed interest in the history of that period. There is no more attractive remodeled farmhouse than that of Mr. Roland C. Lincoln, which is a charming, rambling, summer home situated on the Gloucester road half way between Manchester-by-the-Sea and Magnolia. It is a low, yellow cottage, picturesquely placed against a background of trees and nestled on the side of a hill seemingly as if it had been there for centuries. At the front is the ocean, while surrounding it is well-placed shrubbery and artistically trained vines. [Illustration: The House from the Driveway] The grounds are just at the left of the main road and separated from it by a low stone wall; the entrance is by a driveway at one side that winds to an entrance porch. All around the house are carefully trimmed lawns and gardens gay with flowers, while the soft expanse of green sward extends to the shadowing trees and the background of forest and rock. The house was built two hundred and fifteen years ago. At that time it stood on the road and was overshadowed by the very oldest house there was in the town, which stood on the crest of an adjoining hill. It then contained four rooms only, each one of which was thirteen and a half feet square. Surrounding the old farmhouse was an orchard of apple-trees that even in the early days gave to it its present name of Little Orchard. [Illustration: The Angle of the Ell] The possibilities of the little cottage, as it stood forlorn by the side of the road, attracted the attention of the present owner, who purchased it, moved it back from the road to its present location, and remodeled it, adding a wing at the left. The old front door was improved by the addition of a semicircular porch which is an exact reproduction of the porch on the White house at Salem, Massachusetts. The side porch was unique and most picturesque in its design. Ivy has been trained to cover the veranda and outline many of the windows. At the rear, facing the garden with its frontage of gnarled apple-trees, we find the veranda or out-of-doors living-room. This is used during the summer months and commands one of the most picturesque views on the estate, overlooking lawns and forest. [Illustration: The Entrance Porch] [Illustration: The Stairway] Entrance to the old house is through the porch, and one finds himself in a most charming hallway, at one side of which is an alcoved recess. This is hung in blue and white Morris paper. Near the front door at the right is the staircase which leads with low treads and broad landing to the second-story floor; it has a hand-carved balustrade with a mahogany rail, while its newel post shows fine carving. Half way up between two huge beams have been placed some wonderful old pieces of china of the Colonial period, and under them is the quaint inscription, a welcome to the home, "In God's hands stands this house, may good luck come to it and bad luck go out of it." The staircase is reproduced from a particularly fine model found in a house in Boston that was originally the home of one of America's greatest statesmen, Edward Everett. It fits into its new surroundings as if it had always been there and is exactly the type one would expect to find in such a house as this. There is a fine old cabinet near the staircase that is considered one of the best pieces in the country. Inside is an entire tea-set of Lowestoft originally brought to Manchester by one of the old sea captains as a commercial venture and placed on sale. It was purchased by the present owner and holds a prominent place in her collection. At the foot of the stairs, inside the front door, the name of the house has been done in burnt wood. Mrs. Lincoln arranged to have this executed while she was traveling abroad and when talking with the workman she told him the story of her remodeled farmhouse and why it was named Little Orchard. He was very much interested in her description, and when the inscription was finished, it bore not only the name, but decorations in each corner of tiny little apples. [Illustration: The Dining Room] At the end of the entrance hall is the dining-room which is long and well lighted by many windows on two sides. This was a part of the original house, enlarged and added to. Here we find the low stud and the beamed ceiling so prevalent in houses of that day. It is hung with a most interesting Morris paper done in pink and blue, and at one end is a recessed sideboard. The upper part of this is used as a china cupboard, while on either side bookcases have been inserted. The furnishing of this room is all of the Colonial period; the chairs are Sheraton, as is also the sideboard. The fireplace is unusually good, being handsomely carved with a basket of fruit as the central decoration. Opening from the dining-room is the living-room, a large, square room with beamed ceiling, a feature being a built-in bookcase at the farther end. On the walls are many original paintings including one by the late William H. Hunt, "Tired of Work." An interesting inglenook is a space-saving device that has been introduced. Underneath the window-seat, studded in brass nails, is the name of the house again, Little Orchard. The reception-room is back of the living-room and shows the staircase of old Colonial design at the farther end. The fireplace was taken from a house which once sheltered General Lafayette. When the house was torn down, the beauty of the carving and the graceful design attracted the attention of the present owner, who purchased it for his remodeled house. When it was brought home, it was found to be almost impracticable, through being so badly worm-eaten; under the hands of skilful workmen, however, it has been thoroughly renovated and is now a prominent feature of the room. The apartment is well lighted by many windows, each one of which is of a different design. These have been perfectly planned, and there is no discordant note. The second story has been so arranged that all the rooms open into each other and also into the hallway. They are of low stud and contain dormer windows. The Colonial atmosphere has been carefully observed, so that new pieces which have been introduced fit in harmoniously with the old ones. Each room has a large, open fireplace with a crane, suggestive of good cheer. The success of this house has been attained through the careful thought of the owners, and it is an example of a charmingly remodeled farmhouse of a type such as one seldom finds. CHAPTER XIV WILLOWDALE Should you chance to run across an old farmhouse that shows good interior woodwork, do not carelessly pass it by, for such houses are not easy to discover. You must realize that when restored it will be much more attractive than one with a plain mopboard and narrow cornice. Woodwork was not of the Colonial type in the earliest houses; it was used merely as a wall covering and was called wainscot, the same as it is to-day. This was because the paneling was originally made from wainscot oak which was well grained and without knots. Differing from that in nineteenth-century houses, it was put on the walls vertically, the boards being rough and wide. It must be remembered that in those days trees had not been felled to any extent, and the giants of the forest provided the best of lumber for this purpose. These boards were either lapped or put together with tongue-strips. Later on, we find interiors where they were laid horizontally, like those of a century or more ago, and instead of being plain boards, were well finished. Wainscot is an inheritance from our early ancestors, for in the manor houses in the mother country there is wonderful woodwork, used not only for wainscot, but for other parts of the interior finish. White pine, which at that time grew abundantly in our native woods, was employed for interior as well as exterior purposes, this being more especially true in the northern and eastern parts of the country, where it was more plentiful. It has generally been conceded that this wood was the best on account of its wearing properties, and as it did not show figure in either the grain or markings. It was often called "cheese-like" and for this reason was preferred by wood-carvers and cabinetmakers for their art. The wainscot was used until about the time of the Revolution and not until a later period were the walls plastered. It has never lost its popularity and is found in many twentieth-century houses. It is generally shown in paneled effects which came into vogue much later than the plain board period. This woodwork was generally in the lower story, where more time and thought were given to interior finish; very rarely is it found in the chambers and then only in the better class of houses. Wainscot is not the only interior woodwork used; we often find whole walls finished in paneled wood, and fireplaces with a simple frame in paneled effects. Many of these old fireplaces showed a wooden shelf only, while later on, in the early part of the nineteenth century, fine carvings were included. Occasionally we run across a mantel of this kind in an old farmhouse, but it is very rare. It would be out of place for the house owner to introduce a mantel of this kind, no matter how attractive, in some types of old farmhouses. It would not be in keeping with the style and, while handsome and graceful in design, would be incongruous even in remodeled surroundings. Door-frames as well as the wainscot betoken the age of the house, for in the earlier ones doors are perfectly plain in finish, elaboration in design of paneling and wood-carving coming into play at a little later period. Cornices widened and also became more elaborate as house building progressed, and a century after the first wainscot was used, we find them sometimes several inches in width and showing different motives, such as the egg and dart. These also are rarely found in an old farmhouse, for it must be remembered that our early ancestors had little time to think out elaboration in the interior finish of their homes which were built solely as shelters. In the reproductions of to-day the wide boards are not easy to find, unless they are taken from some old house. One of the most valuable boards is the pumpkin pine which is now rarely found, having disappeared from the New England forest long ago. Fortunate is the house owner who discovers this wood in his old farmhouse, for it is found only in the very oldest buildings. The softness of the wood and the great width of the boards distinguish it from the white pine. In 1695, on the shores of Cape Cod, not far from Cataumet, a small farmhouse was built, with four rooms down-stairs and two rooms and an unfinished attic above. It was the home of one of the early settlers and stood facing the highway, a simple, unpretentious dwelling of no particular design and incongruous architecture. Although it had been substantially built, it had been abandoned for many years and was in a most dilapidated condition. Originally the water came nearly to its door, but the shore line gradually had receded, so when first discovered, the little building stood with its back to the road, and its face to the bare meadows. [Illustration: Before Remodeling] Like other houses of this early period, it was guiltless of paint, and its weather-beaten sides showed the wear and exposure of many years' conflict with the elements. To transform this house into a summer home equipped with accommodations adequate for a modern family, was a difficult problem. The proportions of the exterior were good but so simple that in order to extend the original quaint outline of the house without marring it, the additions had to be made with unusual care. [Illustration: The Front View] The first step was to carefully study the period for correct remodeling and to lay out the five acres of grounds to balance the house and preserve symmetry of detail. A driveway starts at the entrance, where on a high pole swings a shield-like sign with a red background and showing the name of the house, Willowdale, in white. The estate is defined by a fence, and the house in its remodeled state is attractively located on rising land, many feet back from the main highway. [Illustration: The House from the Garden] A hundred years after the house was built, a new highway was opened at the rear; thus the front or south side was wholly screened from observation, and it was here that the new owner decided to lay out his garden. It is enclosed by a high fence painted white, with latticed panels stained green; at the end a summer-house was erected, whose axis is the central path of flat stepping-stones that leads to the quaint porch entrance. Its three outer sides extend beyond the fence and command a broad view of the picturesque shore territory. The garden proper is of the old-fashioned type, in conformity with the old-time atmosphere of the estate, and the same sorts of flowers thrive in the trim beds that bloomed no doubt in the first owner's garden. Trailing vines conceal the fence outlining this plot from view. The only distinctive modern touch and yet one quite in harmony with the quaintness of the grounds is a large crystal gazing-bowl. This reflects in its luminous surface the nodding heads of the flowers, the floating clouds, the children dashing past, or the still loveliness of the summer sunset which preludes the night. [Illustration: A Rear View] The original house had been substantially built, and while appearing dilapidated, few of the shingles needed replacing even after two hundred years' wear. In the interior comparatively few repairs were necessary, paint and paper being the principal requisites. Additions had to be made to secure the needed room, and the first problem was to arrange these to conform with the original quaint outline. The old part was of the old farmhouse type, low of build. To the right a wing was built to contain three bedrooms and a bathroom, and to balance this a broad, covered veranda was added at the left; behind this, at the rear, quarters for the kitchen, servants' hall, and chambers were thrown out. There was need of more light for the second-floor rooms in the old building, so dormers were inserted in the deep pitched roof at the front. The exterior was then painted dark red with a white trim, following the style of the first painted houses. Whether the red was used for economy's sake or not is a question, but it probably was, and proved most appropriate. Yellow was the next coloring used, which is shown by the fact that it is sometimes found with red underneath; the white paint came into vogue still later. Over the front door a small porch was built which was in strict keeping with the period. Trellises were erected at one side of the house for rambler roses and vines that would break the plain, solid effect of the shingled surface. An old-fashioned well was boxed in, at the rear of the kitchen entrance, and furnishes drinking-water for the family. The old chimney was retained, so that the fireplaces could be used. When the house was first built, there were two rooms at the front and at the rear a kitchen, kitchen-bedroom, and a dairy. The three small rooms were thrown into one large room which is now used as a dining-room. When the plaster was scraped off from the ceiling, it was found that there were hand-hewn beams underneath in such a good state of preservation that they were left uncovered, giving to the new apartment a distinctive touch. It was then discovered that the house had been built around a tree, for a substantial oak, with its roots deep in the ground and its large trunk still shouldering the roof beam, was disclosed. Underneath the old paper was found fine wood paneling which was scraped and painted white; next the fireplace was opened, and proved to be eight feet wide with a swinging crane at the back. This was restored to its original size, and a square, brick hearth was laid. The old floors were replaced by new ones, and the entire room was given the tone of the period. Rag rugs are laid on the floor, and all the furniture represents seventeenth-century pieces. At one end of the room is the dining-table, and at the farther side, large French windows hung with chintz open on to a vine-clad veranda. [Illustration: The Living Room] The parlor, which opened from the dining-room, was covered with many layers of dirty wall-paper. When these were removed, it was discovered that there was a very fine wainscoting. In one corner was a three-cornered cupboard with a paneled door underneath. The fireplace was opened up, and when the room was painted it developed into one of the most charming rooms in the house. The paneling was painted just off the white, and the walls were hung with soft, gray paper with tiny pink flowers, making the color scheme of the room gray and pink. This was carried out in all the furnishings,--the chintz used for cushions and the hangings harmonizing with these tones. Instead of having all the furniture of the Colonial period, comfortable willow chairs were introduced, in order to give the light, airy touch that makes a summer home distinctive. This is a large, livable room, well-lighted by many windows and looking out upon the lawn and the garden. The hallway is of the plain, simple type which was so common in the oldest houses. The walls are covered with a reproduction of an old-time landscape paper, and the passage forms the division line between the old sitting-room and the dining-room. This dining-room is now used as a chamber; it is large and sunny with a wide-open fireplace. It is furnished with an Empire bed and shows everything that would have been found in the early days in a chamber of this kind, even to the spirit lamp that stands on the high mantel, the warming-pan beside the generous fireplace, the oval mirror, and the wooden cradle with its hand-woven blanket, where now sleeps a twentieth-century baby. [Illustration] [Illustration: Two of the Chambers] On the second story the rooms have been remodeled and show the same good taste which prevails all through the house. The unfinished attic has been plastered, papered, and converted into two bedrooms which are equipped with the old-time furnishings and are used primarily as guest rooms. The gable windows make them light and airy and at the same time afford a charming glimpse of the garden, heavy with the fragrance of the sweet-smelling blossoms, much as it was two centuries ago. Willowdale is one of the most comfortable and well appointed of the many remodeled houses that are found in New England. It is the possession of such a quantity of fine old woodwork that has given the house its distinctive atmosphere, though this has been preserved and heightened by the good taste of the present residents, who have succeeded in making it a most livable dwelling. Every room is well lighted and well ventilated, yet the house maintains in its renovated state all the quaintness and charm of a seventeenth-century home. It is a fine example of how an old house can be remodeled with little trouble and expense, and how the old and new can be combined harmoniously. CHAPTER XV THE GEORGE E. BARNARD ESTATE In remodeling a farmhouse, one should plan to build wide verandas, overlooking pleasing views. These can be glass-enclosed, so that during inclement weather one need not stay indoors. Out-door life is a part of the essentials in planning a summer home, and it means so much to the house owner that every possible means should be devised to secure it. With this object in view, why not lay out around the house attractive flower beds? Just a plain lawn does not mean much, but planted with trees, effective shrubbery, and well-planned gardens, it furnishes an inducement to sit on the porch and watch the ever changing views. In attempting this work, plan for vistas, well-selected spaces through which one can get glimpses of the world beyond. Have an objective point in view, so that the beauty of the setting sun and the clouds clothed in rainbow hues make it more attractive. Panorama effects are always interesting and are obtained through judicious planting, for one must remember that a plain level lawn in itself has few features that attract. Let the units be carefully spaced, and if there are walks or drives near the house, lay them out where they will not detract from the picturesque effect that you desire. An exception can be made with the English or flag treads, which make a charming adjunct to the grounds when grass grown. In the early days, the first settlers had their flower beds close to the house, probably because they did not then interfere with garden space. The effect was pleasing, for it added to the simple attraction of the early building. It is a good plan, after remodeling a house, to carry out this scheme of our forebears and have a narrow bed following the line of the house. Trees also are always effective; they break the roof line and shut off objectionable views. If you have no trees, by all means plant some. Screens can be devised by planting shrubbery, which makes unnecessary a latticed enclosure and is all the more interesting if the shrubs bear flowers, adding a bright spot to the color scheme. They are very practical as well, since they serve many purposes besides shutting off objectionable portions of the grounds. If rightly planted, they serve as windbreaks and can be arranged to frame a vista. While evergreen is often used for this scheme, yet shrubs such as the lilac, forsythia, bridal wreath, flowering almond, and many others are suitable. Plant these so that there will be a continuation in bloom, and also with reference to a definite color scheme. A remodeled farmhouse set back from the road without any surrounding decoration of garden or hedge cannot be picturesque, for merely a stretch of green lawn leaves it bare and uninviting, no matter how much you cover the house with vines. The composition of house and garden should be carefully planned, all the more if the estate is extensive, with plenty of land that can be used for this purpose. It is not much trouble to plant shrubs, and they need little cultivation. In the woods near at hand you can usually find plenty that will serve the purpose, if economy has to be considered. In planting the garden there are many things to be regarded; one of the most important is the sequence of bloom. This should be arranged with a view to color effects, for nowhere will one's taste be more conspicuous than in the garden plot which surrounds the house. There is no doubt that the harmony of color is a vital question, and complementary ones should be grouped together. Yellow should never be left out of the garden unless one wishes a very quiet effect; red is a favorite color and contrasts well with white. It must be remembered that quiet colors can be used in greater profusion than glaring ones; and if the exterior of the house is white, it permits one a much wider latitude in the choice of colors and in the arrangement of pleasing effects. The combination of house and garden that is found on the George E. Barnard estate of Ipswich, Massachusetts, is ideal and the result of many years of careful thought. The house was originally a small and unattractive farmhouse which contained only four rooms; it was dilapidated and forlorn in appearance and situated in the midst of uncultivated grounds. It was the location which attracted the present owner, for he saw here great possibilities for development; so he purchased the estate with a view of surrounding the house with gardens. [Illustration: Before Remodeling] The house has been added to, a little at a time, by throwing out here a room and there a veranda, instead of completing the whole work at once. Vine-covered verandas now surround three sides of the house; the shrubbery has been well planted. From the time the garden was first started, it was the desire of the owner to paint in flowers what other people have painted on canvas. Steep hills that obstructed the view at the side of the house have been converted into gentle slopes; bare spots have been thickly planted, and colors have been combined so that there is no inharmonious note in the finished garden. Careful planning eliminated straight lines, but not even the slightest curve in a flower bed was made until after due consideration. The flowers were planted to fulfill, as near as possible, the scheme of a landscape picture, and each plant not in perfect harmony was removed. The effect as one sits on the veranda is like looking at an immense canvas, where the pictures change with every move, for the estate is a masterpiece of color and bloom, depicting a different phase of landscape on every side. In remodeling the house, so many changes have been made that it is almost impossible to tell the manner in which the improvements were effected. There is not a room in the house but has been thoroughly changed, nor one that has not been enlarged. The service quarters are all new; they have been placed in the rear, where they do not intrude on the scheme that has been carried out in remodeling--that of making an attractive house in keeping with the setting of the grounds. The main house is at the front and has been kept in practically the same general style as when purchased. The entire rear portion of the house has been added a little at a time, until now it is most complete in each and every detail. [Illustration: The Front of the House] [Illustration: The House from the Terrace] Dormer windows have been let into the roof in order to give better lighting, and the wide verandas have been railed in, to provide an up-stairs living-room, from which one gets the best views of the garden. The lower veranda is furnished with well-chosen willow furniture, each piece being carefully selected so that there are no two alike. It has been given a setting of ornamental bay-trees in green tubs and huge pottery vases filled with masses of bloom. The most attractive part of the veranda is at one side of the house, where it is paved with brick and lined on the one side with evergreen trees and on the other with scarlet geraniums. [Illustration: The Pergola-Porch] [Illustration: The Hall] The hall or morning-room was a part of the original house. It is entered directly from the veranda and has been so treated as to present a different series of pictures from the time one enters the door until one leaves, each room which opens out of it being carefully designed for harmonious effects. [Illustration: The Alcove in the Living Room] At the left of the room is the staircase which leads to the second-story floor. The low mahogany risers and treads contrast with the white balusters which are topped with a highly polished mahogany rail. Doors have been removed so that the adjoining rooms are glimpsed as one enters from the veranda. This room is hung with a Colonial paper showing delicately tinted red flowers against a gray background, and its beauty is heightened by the leaded glass windows of the china closet at the right and the simple fireplace with its brass accessories. Every bit of furniture here is old Colonial and is upholstered in green to match the color of the hangings. A long French window opens on to the veranda and gives glimpses of the beautiful gardens. The upper portions of the old cupboards that were in the house have been glassed in. The floors have had to be re-laid. [Illustration: The Den] Particularly noticeable is the den which is at the left of the hallway. Here the color scheme is green, the walls being covered with textile; the wainscot is painted white, and the hangings at the window brighten the plain effect of the wall treatment. There is no crowding of furniture, but a dignified atmosphere pervades the entire room. It is an apartment such as one loves to find--quiet and restful. These two rooms occupy the entire front of the house. Opening from the hall is a long reception-room which was originally a part of the old house and which shows two rooms thrown into one, with an addition at the end nearest the avenue. This is done in old blue velour and is furnished in mahogany. The plain tint of the wall gives an admirable background to the fine old pictures which hang here and there. Every piece of furniture in this room is Colonial. Ionic columns outline the wide double windows. Light and air have been carefully considered in the remodeling of the entire house and have particularly been sought in designing this room, as is shown by the many windows on either side. At the farther end, to one side, a French window leads to a glassed-in veranda which is used for a breakfast-room. This room is a feature of the house, for it has been set in the middle of the terraced grounds that lie at the side of the house, so that one can get the full benefit of the picture garden with the slope of the hill beyond rising to meet the blue of the horizon. In the reception-room, as in every room in the house, wooden doors have been removed and replaced by glass ones which act as windows to reveal the room beyond. It is a most unusual treatment,--this picture idea carried out inside as well as outside of the house,--for there is no spot in the whole interior where you do not get a vista of some kind. [Illustration: The Dining Room] Beyond the reception-room is the dining-room. This, too, is a long, narrow room and has been added, since the house was purchased, but so fitted in that it is seemingly a part of the old house. This room is divided into a dining and a breakfast-room and is used during inclement weather. Heavy draperies make it possible to shut the rooms off from each other if desired. The entire end of the breakfast-room has been given up to groups of long French windows which are repeated on either side, making a wide bay window. Here again has the picture effect been carried out, for the windows act as a frame to the mass of harmonious blossoms beyond, with their setting of green. The dining-room proper has a paneled Colonial landscape paper; the furniture is of the Empire period, while at the farther end of the room have been let in on either side of the long windows an attractive china closet. Here, as in every room in the house, we find wainscot and the same use of white paint. At the rear of this dining-room are the service quarters which consist of a large, sanitary, and well-equipped kitchen, butlers' pantries, servants' dining-room and sitting-room. The chambers in the second story are entirely separate from the rest of the house. The second floor shows at the right of the staircase a most delightful morning-room which is large and square with an open fireplace. This is a particularly attractive room, for it commands magnificent views. The rest of the house is given over to chambers which are laid out in suites and furnished with old-time furniture. There is an atmosphere about this remodeled farmhouse that is refreshing and most unusual. It has taken years to satisfactorily develop the owner's idea of combining house and garden in one harmonious color scheme. In the exterior this is changed each year, the favorite combination being lavender and white. This is attained by the use of heliotrope and sweet alyssum which outline the terraced wall and which show a carpet of green for central effect. The veranda is a harmony of green and white which is carried out in the awnings, the foliage, the willow furniture, and the white of the exterior and the balustrade. In the interior there is not a jumble of different colorings, and the rooms have been so arranged that they present a series of pictures brought about by the use of plain colors that perfectly blend. This has not been the work of a day or a year, but of ten years of careful study and is one of the most instructive lessons for those who are planning to remodel an old farmhouse and to introduce into its interior finish harmonious, restful, color schemes. CHAPTER XVI THE W. P. ADDEN HOUSE Many of the old houses still contain some fine specimens of old hardware that were used when they were built, more especially the H and L hinges and the old latches which have not been removed. The knockers have often disappeared, being more conspicuous and therefore eagerly sought, not only by collectors but by builders of new houses into which Colonial ideas have been introduced. If you are looking for this particular feature in the farmhouse, you will probably find it widely varied, as the different owners of the house each had his own special ideas and changed the hardware to suit his tastes. Many did not realize the importance of these fixtures in retaining the sixteenth and seventeenth-century interiors. It is absolutely necessary that the hardware should correspond in material to period. Too little thought has been given to this subject and has led to an incongruous use of hardware, leaving an impression of lack of information concerning the correct architectural details of the house. There is a decided difference between the hardware that was used in the latter part of the sixteenth century and the early seventeenth and that we employ to-day. The twentieth-century "builders' hardware" covers a great variety of objects included in every part of the house. In Colonial times the term was applied to few, such as latches, locks, knockers, and hinges, some of which were very ornamental in design, for they ranged from small pieces to large ones. The evolution of this special feature of the house is of interest to the house builder; it originated in the Dark Ages, at which period we find used Romanesque, Renaissance, and Gothic types in so many different forms that it is little wonder the architect turns to them for copy. The best examples are seen in the late sixteenth and early seventeenth-century houses, when the decoration of the entrance door was a very serious subject and received great attention, especially during the Colonial period. Then the knockers were of the most importance and were either of cast-iron or brass. The former were often very beautiful in design and were used on the earlier houses, for brass did not come into favor until later. Unfortunately the waning vogue of this piece of hardware led to many rare pieces being destroyed or thrown into the melting pot. It is fortunate that some house owners realized their worth and that collectors felt they would become a fad later on and so stored them away, which accounts for many old knockers found on the market to-day. The latch, lock, knob, and hinge are also interesting. The former is made from either iron or brass but rarely of any other metal. Before the appearance of the latch, the door-ring was used, but this it would be most difficult to locate. The thumb-latch is occasionally fanciful in design but is generally very plain and is rarely seen even in old-time houses, having been replaced by the door-knob. The most common feature, and one which we are quite apt to discover, is the long strap-hinge which was designed for a special purpose, for we must remember that in the early days wooden pins were used to fasten the door; and while they kept it compact, yet it demanded the strap-hinge also for protection. This hinge will be found in many different patterns and makes, sometimes running almost the entire width of the door, and often constructed in three sections,--the upper, lower, and central, although frequently only two were used. The ornamental ones are rarely if ever seen in farmhouses, being confined to the wealthier class. The plain iron ones were more often found, and these are of two types,--the one known as the H hinge and the other as the H and L. Closet doors often are equipped with the H hinge which takes its name from its formation. Because of the fact that the home builders of to-day are turning their attention more and more to the use of decorative hardware, one should be very careful to retain this feature as an effective detail in the interior finish of a remodeled farmhouse. In the town of Reading, Massachusetts, is a most attractive remodeled farmhouse that has been carefully worked out by W. P. Adden with such a regard for the preservation of old-time atmosphere that it can be considered as a fine type to copy. Not only has the exterior been carefully planned, but the owner has gone farther and made a special study of the hardware, so that the house to-day contains many wonderful examples that are correct in their treatment and add much to the atmosphere of the home. [Illustration: THE W. P. ADDEN HOUSE] This old farmhouse was originally a gambrel-roofed cottage built about 1760 and was probably a four-roomed house, as is indicated by the partitions filled with brick that were found in the center of the present house, and also by an old brick oven and fireplace which were buried up and covered over by the portion of an old brick chimney evidently added later. The additions to this dwelling, even when purchased by the present owner, had been carefully planned, so that there were no awkward joinings or incongruous jogs discernible in the outline. There is no doubt that here, as in other old farmhouses, the early builders had displayed an inherent sense of proper proportion, and the additions which were made from time to time might be said to be after-expressions of first thoughts. When this house was first purchased, it was in an excellent state of preservation, with the exception of the ell which was past repairing. It faced directly south and had evidently been set by a compass regardless of street boundary, though the location was only a short distance from the main road. The design of the house contained all the characteristics of early construction,--the small-paned windows, closely cropped eaves, and long, unrelieved, roof line. At the time of the purchase of the estate, which had originally included hundreds of acres, it was surrounded by a low wall of field stone which had evidently been taken from the grounds to make tillage possible. The house stood on a slope and was surrounded by grass land; the same idea is carried out to-day, in that little attempt has been made at garden culture, the owner preferring to keep the estate as near as possible to the farm lands of centuries ago. After the remodeling was commenced, many interesting facts of construction were brought to light. The north side of the house, which was originally the rear, was changed by the present owner into the main front, with entrance and staircase hall. The hall was necessarily small, and in order to make it practical, five feet of the large central chimney had to be removed, including three fireplaces and two brick ovens. It was then found that this portion had evidently been added to the house after the original chimney had been built, as an old fireplace and brick oven were found on the line of a partition on the south side of the hall. It was also discovered that in all probability the original house had a lean-to at the north which was used for a kitchen, and that this fireplace and brick oven were a part of the old room. The original chimney was found by actual measurement to be sixteen feet by seven and a half feet, and the stone foundation was the largest ever seen, being ample enough to accommodate the wide hearths as well as the chimney. In fact, to-day it takes all the central portion of the basement, leaving two small spaces on either side. In the remodeling, it was found that the original work was laid up with clay, meadow clay being taken as a binder. The exterior required little alteration, save on the north side, where it was necessary to remove a portion of the wall in order to run the hall out under the roof of the house so that it might be two stories in height. The front of the house, which faced directly south, was left unaltered, with the exception that on the opposite side from the ell a glass-enclosed piazza was built of like width, length, and height. This afforded a ballast, as it were, to the main building and made a comfortable playroom for the children. A new porch, arched with Colonial pillars, was built at the front of the house in keeping with the type. In the ell a second one of less formal proportions was designed which was reached by a flagging of rough stones. A third porch of entirely different character was a finish to the rear of the house and shows lattice work, being quite ornamental in design. The angle formed by the main building and the new ell gave space for a flower plot, and here is located a small rose garden. This is outlined by broad paths of stone; surrounding the whole are wide borders of old-fashioned flowers which lend a touch of color that is very attractive. [Illustration: The Stairway] Entering through the front porch, one comes to a new hall, and with the exception of this, there has been little change in interior. This hall is most interesting; here are found the H and L hinges, a yellow and white Colonial wall-paper, and a staircase that divides at the landing and by easy treads leads on either side to chambers above. An old grandfather's clock is an appropriate furnishing for this part of the house. All through the lower story the old woodwork has been carefully preserved, and where it was destroyed it has been replaced. The living-room is practically as it was when purchased. Here we find the H hinges and the old-time latches, while through the center of the room runs a beam which had to be cased in and which has been painted white to match the trim. At one side a built-in bookcase has followed the architectural lines so perfectly that it seems as if it had been there ever since the house was built. The simple Colonial fireplace shows more ornamentation than is generally found in old farmhouses, which indicates that it was of a better type dwelling. With its new wall hangings and white trim, this room is most attractive. It connects with the sun-parlor at one end and is well-lighted and most homelike in atmosphere. The dining-room, facing east, has had a new group of windows added and contains the largest fireplace in the house. The china closet above the fireplace was discovered when the plaster was removed for the purpose of building in a similar one. This room is fitted with H and L hinges and the old-time iron latch. It was originally a portion of the old kitchen, the remainder of it being taken for a lavatory and passageway. All through the house we find that careful attention has been paid not only to hardware but to furnishings. No new-fashioned pieces have been used in any room in the house, and this careful attention to details has been carried out even in the lighting fixtures, which are all of the Colonial type. The second-story floor has undergone changes to meet the requirements of the present owner. One half of this story is devoted to the nursery; it is equipped with a large fireplace, deep closets, bath, and nurse's room, while the remainder provides a large bedroom, bath, and dressing-room. It has been so arranged that each part is distinct by itself, and convenience has been looked after in every particular. The original attic was entirely unfinished, and when new stairs were erected in the second-story hall, there was great difficulty in finding room enough to enter the attic by the side of the large chimney. In the remodeling of this house, comfort, a careful following of Colonial details, and an especial attention to the hardware are the salient features. CHAPTER XVII THE KATE DOUGLAS WIGGIN HOUSE There is one thing that should be carefully considered in buying an old farmhouse,--that is, character. In order to obtain this, distinct points should be sought after and brought out. These can be accentuated not only in the house but also in its surroundings,--the garden, the trees, and the shrubbery; even the defining wall or fence does its part in making a good or bad impression on the casual passer-by. One must remember, in dealing with subjects of this sort, that the term "farmhouses" is a varying one. These range from small, insignificant little dwellings to the more elaborate houses that were built primarily for comfort as well as shelter. There are many large, substantial dwellings, not of the earlier type, for they were erected much later, but which illustrate the progression of the farmhouse design. One looks in houses such as these for larger rooms, higher stud, and more up-to-date ideas. The fireplaces are smaller and more ornate, for it must be remembered that as time passed on, money circulated more freely through the colonies, allowing for more extensive work and better finished details. While it is not necessary to copy the Colonial wall hangings, yet in the older houses it is much more satisfactory; still one can depart from this custom in a more elaborate house and use his own taste in selecting an attractive modern paper. Many people consider that houses restored, no matter of what period, should invariably have carefully consistent interior finish, without realization that it is sometimes better to look for character than type. The old-time wall-papers, more especially the picturesque ones, were generally used in more expensive houses, although we find them here and there in the more simple ones. Often this feature of the interior decoration is not well carried out, the wall hangings being chosen for cheapness rather than merit. To-day there is on the market such a great variety of papers that it is a very easy matter to get one suitable for any certain room and suggesting good taste. Many of them are reproductions of old motives, while others are plain and simple in character, giving to the room a quiet effect and providing a good background for pictures and hangings. There is nothing more restful in character than the soft grays; they are effective as a setting for stronger colors that can be used in the curtains, for this part of a room finish is as important as the wall hangings themselves. There is an indescribable charm to a room that has been carefully planned and shows good taste and restful surroundings. In many houses, some decorative scheme has been introduced which necessitates a particular kind of wall hanging, and even though it may be most unusual in type, it illustrates a motive that has been in the mind of the owner. Houses would lack character if the same line of interior decoration were carried out in all of them. With a high wainscot and cornice painted ivory white, comparatively little paper is needed, which reduces the cost and permits a better paper than if the room had a simple mopboard and a tiny molding. Papers that are garish and discordant in themselves, if skilfully handled, can produce harmonious effects, for it is often the unusual wall hangings that attract most. In curtaining these rooms let the same main tone be reproduced; this need not apply to every detail but to the general tone. Many people are timid in the use of odd wall-papers or curtains; they are afraid that they may look bizarre, but they should remember that color is in reality a very powerful agent in making an artistic home. It is sometimes effective to treat a house as a whole, and then again it is better that each room should have its own individuality. Very few houses but have at least one corner that offers interesting opportunities, and it is the artistic treatment of this that helps out the harmony of the room. There is a charming atmosphere surrounding "Quillcote," the home of Kate Douglas Wiggin, at Hollis, Maine, where Mrs. Riggs spends three months of the year. It may be that the quietness of the place lends to it additional charm, and then again it may possibly be the result of its environment. [Illustration: Mrs. Kate Douglas Wiggin's Summer House] The house itself is typical of the better class of New England farmhouses, and since it has come into Mrs. Riggs' possession, many alterations have been made, until to-day it is one of the most attractive farmhouses to be found anywhere. Two stories and a half in height, with a slant to the roof, it stands back from the road on a slight elevation, with a surrounding of lawns and overshadowed by century-old elms. To-day its weather-beaten sides have been renovated by a coat of white paint, while the blinds have been painted green. A touch of picturesqueness has been secured through the introduction of a window-box over the porch, bright all through the season with blossoming flowers. There is no attempt at floriculture, the owner preferring to maintain the rural simplicity of a farmhouse devoid of flowers and only relieved by the shrubbery planted around the building. When the house was first purchased, it was not in a dilapidated condition, having been lived in by townspeople and kept in good repair. The work of remodeling has been done by the people of the village, and it has been superintended by the owner of the house, in order that her own ideas, not only in remodeling, but in decorating, should be exactly carried out. The old shed is now used as the service department, a wide veranda having been built at one side for a servants' outdoor sitting-room. At the rear of the house is the old barn, which to-day is used for a study and for entertainment purposes. [Illustration: The Hall] Entrance to the house is through a Colonial door with a fanlight on either side. The owner has preferred to keep this in its original state, rather than add a porch of the Colonial type. The only porch that has been added to the house is a latticed, circular one at the side door. The entrance hall is long and narrow, the staircase also being narrow and built at one side in order to save space. The Colonial idea has been carried out here in the wainscot, and the ornamentation of hand-carving on the stairs shows it was done by a stair-builder and not by an ordinary mechanic. The lighting is from a lantern which carries out the general effect. The wall-hanging is in Colonial colors,--yellow and white,--while the rugs are the old, woven rag carpets which are repeated for stair covering. The balusters are very simple in design, while the balustrade has been painted white, thus showing it is not of mahogany. [Illustration: The Dining Room] At the right is the dining-room, a bright, sunny room that has been uniquely planned to occupy the front of the house instead of the rear, as is more usual. It is a large, square room, in which little or no alteration has been made and which has been treated so as to make an effective setting to the rare old Colonial furniture. The size of the dining-room has been considered in reference to the furniture, this being one reason why Mrs. Riggs has chosen this large, square room--in order to correctly place her old mahogany pieces. The decorations are very simple and follow out the idea of Colonial days, there being no pieces that are not in actual use. The walls are hung in shades of yellow and brown, and she has been most successful in carrying out her color scheme. [Illustration: The Den] The home study, or den, leads from the dining-room and has been carefully planned with an idea of restfulness. A chamber at one end has been converted into an alcove, and additional light is obtained by cutting a group of casement windows over the writing-table. The room is very simply furnished and shows marked originality. The walls are papered with woodland scenes, for it was a fad of the occupant to bring into the house by wall hangings suggestions of the outside world. While it is unique, it has a distinctly restful influence and is in tone with the fireplace, which has been decorated with unusual features and which bears the name "Quillcote." The draperies in this room are original in treatment, being decorated to order by a noted artist who has introduced his signature in some part of the work. They are ornamented with original designs suggestive of farm life, with such subjects as wheat, apples, or corn and are covered with delicate traceries of rushes or climbing vines. The fireplace has for andirons black owls, and on either side stand altar candles. In the furnishing of the room everything has been chosen with an eye to restful effects; the owner has done away with the pure Colonial idea, using the mission type and considering comfort more than conventionality. [Illustration] [Illustration: Two Views of the Living Room] Opposite the dining-room at the front of the house is the living-room, where further originality is found in furnishings and in scenes from nature introduced in the unique wall hangings. This room is in blue and white, the wall-paper being delft blue with a rush design over which hover gulls. Singularly enough, the idea is very pleasing. The hangings are of white muslin with blue over-curtains, while the furniture is a mixture of Colonial and modern pieces. An inglenook has been obtained through the introduction of a built-in window-seat which is covered with blue to match the tone of the paper. The furniture is all painted white, and the white fur rugs laid upon the blue floor covering give a charming effect. The decoration and furnishing of this room is quiet and restful, for those two ideas form the basis of the owner's scheme which she had in mind long before she took this house and while she lived in the old family mansion that stands just across the way. It is a comfortable, livable room and not used for state occasions alone, but for everyday needs. Just beyond is the sitting-room in which an entirely different idea is presented. Here the china fad is evidenced in the ornamentation of priceless old plates that have been collected by the owner's sister, Miss Nora Smith, and arranged according to her taste. This room is a typical Colonial room, and the furniture shown is all of that period, even to a spinning-wheel which gives an old-time effect. From this room one passes through a door on to the rear porch, from which fine views are obtained of the little, old-fashioned garden, the pine grove opposite the house, and the winding road. [Illustration] [Illustration: Two of the Chambers] The second story shows large, square chambers which have been carefully planned, each following out a distinct color scheme. In one of these rooms there is a combination of lavender, white, and green, shown in wall hangings, curtains, and furnishings. The canopied Field bed, with its lavender and white spread, has been painted white. Over it has been draped a white muslin canopy. The walls are in light green and show no pictures save that of a Madonna and Child, suggestive of the author's love of children. On the mantel are several very rare pieces of Staffordshire, many of which can not be duplicated. The furniture has been painted white, with the exception of two chairs which have been treated to a coat of green. Another room, showing wainscot and a quiet yellow and white Colonial paper, has a Field bed with white spread and white muslin canopy. Here the Colonial idea in furnishing has been strictly carried out. An original and yet artistic room has its walls entirely covered with a dainty cretonne, the bed-covering and hangings being of the same material. The most interesting idea in remodeling is presented by the old barn, which has been converted into a large music-room or hall, with a rustic platform at one end. Here a new floor has been laid, many windows inserted, and a few old-time settles placed, constructed of weathered wood toned by time to an almost silvery hue. Nothing else has been changed; the ancient rafters and walls remain as they were a century ago. The hall is lighted by many lanterns hanging from ceiling and harness pegs, also by curious Japanese lanterns painted especially for Mrs. Wiggin and bearing the name of the artist. The lanterns, hung from overhead, greatly relieve the somber effect of the heavy beams. At the rear of the hall a broad door space makes a frame for a pretty picture,--a field of buttercups and daisies, a distant house, and two arching elms. A large closet, once the harness-room, is fitted up with shelves and contains all the necessary china for a "spread" such as is given to the village folk several times a year, when dances are held in the old barn. CHAPTER XVIII THE FRANKLIN BRETT HOUSE Floors are an important detail in the remodeled house. Sometimes the original building has many that are in fairly good condition so that they can be saved. There is a great advantage in keeping these old floors if possible, for they were made with plain edge, of strong timber and laid close together. The earliest floors were not double in treatment, therefore the edges had to be either lapped or rabbited. These wide boards that were used in the early construction stand the test of furnaces and modern heating a great deal better than do modern ones of the same width. The latter are much more apt to shrink and open joints. It will be found that the better floors are in the second story in almost every house. It is probable, however, that if you are remodeling your house, you will have to lay at least one or more floors, and in such cases, matched hemlock is the most advisable for the under floor; but the boards should be laid diagonally and close together. The usual method is to lay them matching the upper floor. It is a great mistake, even if advised to do so by an architect, to lay only one floor, for with shrinkage come cracks through which cold air and dust can rise; even a carpet does not remedy the trouble. Hardwood boards make the most popular floors and come in varying thicknesses, the oak being generally three eighths of an inch thick and the North Carolina pine averaging seven eighths of an inch. Both are employed for new floors and for re-covering old, soft-wood ones. The narrow width of oak is more satisfactory, as the narrower the stock the smaller the space between the strips and the less danger of unsightly appearance. They may be a little more expensive than the wider ones, but they make a much better showing. Then, too, the shading and figure blend more harmoniously than when the broader strips are employed. Narrow widths also obviate any danger of the flooring strips cupping, as they are laid and stay absolutely flat. One should be careful not to lay oak flooring while the walls and plaster are damp; in fact, if you have to do much remodeling, the floor should be the last thing attended to, as it is a better plan to get everything else done and thoroughly dried--even to painting, wall hangings, and decorating. Hard pine is best for the kitchen, as it does not splinter, is more reasonable in price, and has fine wearing qualities. It must be taken into consideration that oak flooring is cheaper in the end than carpet. A yard of carpet is twenty-seven inches wide by three feet in length and contains six and three quarters square feet. Clear quartered-oak flooring can be bought, laid, and polished for one dollar per carpet yard, and when you consider the lasting qualities of the wood and the beauty of a polished floor, you will make no mistake to put in one of the better quality, more sanitary, and the best background for rugs, instead of laying a floor of cheap wood. Carpets, with the exception of straw matting, are inadvisable for a home like this. They are unsanitary, hold the dust, and are not nearly as attractive as rugs. These may vary in price with the purse of the owner, and can range from Oriental rugs, costing hundreds of dollars, to the simple rag rug which is always appropriate and in good taste. The absolute carrying out of the Colonial idea is not necessary, for it would not be appropriate to have old-fashioned rag mats in every room of the house. They can be used, however, in the dining-room or in the chambers, and to-day the woven rag carpets and mats are so attractive in their weave and so lasting that they are satisfactory adjuncts to the house furnishings. In the parlor and living-room, while they can be used if desired, there are so many attractive low-priced rugs, both Oriental and domestic, that it is an easy matter to get something both suitable and in good taste. [Illustration: THE FRANKLIN BRETT HOUSE--FRONT VIEW] This attention to floors and their covering is nowhere better shown than in the Franklin Brett House at North Duxbury, Massachusetts. This house, which is over two hundred and fifty years old, was put up at auction several years ago, at just the time when the present owner was looking for an old farmhouse to remodel. It was a double house that had been occupied by two families. The frame, excepting certain parts of the first floor joints and also portions of the sills, was in very good condition, but the first-floor boarding was badly worn and was not fit to be retained for use. It was replaced by a new one of narrow boards. The second story, however, was in much better condition, and the floors, with the exception of the one in the bathroom, could all be used. The house was particularly ugly, displaying a combination of bright yellow paint and dark red trim, and the exterior was wholly devoid of any artistic design. [Illustration: Before Remodeling] At the front of the house there was a wide porch;--just a simple flooring and two doors that stood side by side. The old place was so forlorn that it was bid in during the excitement of the auction partly out of sympathy. It showed so little possibilities that at first the owner was doubtful whether it had been a good purchase, for the building did not in any way fit his ideal of what was desired in order to make a suitable summer home. [Illustration: As Remodeled] After careful examination, however, various possibilities were discovered indicating that there was a very good chance to make it attractive. Originally the house was built for one family only; in architecture it was square-framed, containing two stories and an attic, with ells at the rear and one side and a deep, sloping roof broken by two chimneys. In the old house there were nine rooms on the first floor and five rooms and a hallway on the second. Some of these on the first floor have been combined by removing partitions to make a living-room and dining-room, together with a hallway. [Illustration: The Pergola-Porch] In the living-room were found some hand-hewn, second-floor joists, and it was decided to leave these exposed and plaster in between them, instead of bringing the ceiling down to its original level. In practically every room the plaster was in good condition and needed only to be treated in places. The chimneys were touched up wherever needed, but on the whole very few repairs were necessary. In the lower story to-day there are four rooms and a good-sized hall, while the second story is divided into six rooms and a bathroom. Five additional windows were added down-stairs and two in the second story, in order to secure proper light. Very little new material was put into the house, the work consisting chiefly of tearing out old material and patching woodwork and plaster. At the rear of the house, on a line with the larger ell,--the smaller kitchen ell having been torn down,--a rustic pergola was constructed and a covered veranda, over which grape-vines were trained for shade. The roof was partially reshingled, and the house was painted light gray with white trim, with green for the blinds. At the front a Colonial porch was added with latticed sides and a settle, which is in direct keeping with the architecture of the house. In its remodeled condition, with its setting of closely cropped lawn, it bears little resemblance to the ugly farmhouse of a few years ago. There was no plumbing in the old house, so a single bathroom was put in, a hot-water boiler was added in the kitchen, and a hot-air engine and pump were installed in the cellar which furnish water under pressure from a thousand-gallon supply tank. Later on, a hot-water heater was installed, so that with the modern improvements the house was made very comfortable for habitation all the year round if desired. [Illustration: A First-floor Vista] The original parlor on the left has been utilized for a morning-room; the bedroom, dining-room, and pantry have been combined into a living-room. The partitions between the old hallways have been removed, converting them into one good-sized hall. The remaining portion of the old dining-room has been made into a large pantry. The kitchen in the main ell has been left practically unchanged as to size and shape, although the shed opening from it, as well as the kitchen itself, have been entirely renovated and equipped with up-to-date improvements. Paint and paper and rugs have effected an interior transformation that is most attractive. There are no doors in the house, wide openings making it appear as though it were one large room. The hallway is entered from the Colonial porch and is unique because of its spaciousness. The stairs are at the further end, opposite the door. The Colonial atmosphere has been maintained in the wall hangings, the braided rag mats, and the old furniture. At the left of the hall is the morning-room with its wide, open fireplace, its Colonial paper, and Oriental rugs which are in color tones to correspond with the paper. [Illustration: The Living Room] Opening from this room is the living-room, where the same kind of rugs are laid on the hardwood floor. In this room, after the house was purchased, a fireplace was discovered hidden away behind the partition. It was opened up and restored to its original size. At one side a closet was glassed in, while in either corner cosy, built-in settles give an inglenook effect that is very interesting. The furnishings are wholly Colonial and in keeping with the general character of the apartment. Here the low stud, the beamed ceiling, the depth and lightness of the room, are most attractive. From the long French window one steps out on grass land which commands a most attractive vista of shrubbery and trees. In the planting around the house, great care has been taken to secure shade and picturesqueness, so that in its new life the remodeled farmhouse is surrounded by charming effects. On the opposite side of the hallway one enters the long dining-room. It is finished in red and white, with one-toned hangings; at the farther end is a quaint corner cupboard; a handsome fireplace has been introduced at one side. Many of the pieces in this room are very rare, especially the Hepplewhite sideboard, the chair-table that was once owned by Governor Bradford, and the rush-bottomed chairs. Long glass windows open on the side veranda and combine with attractively grouped windows to make this room light and cheerful. Opening out of this is the pantry, conveniently equipped with cupboards and shelves, and beyond is the kitchen and shed which have been made entirely modern in their appointments. The chambers up-stairs are large, square, and fitted up with furniture of the period. In taking a "secret" cupboard out of a closet, there was discovered some paneling that had been plastered and papered over. On removing the plaster, it was found that the whole side of the room was paneled. By the restoration of this old-time finish, the chamber became even more indicative of the period in which it was built. Here the wall hangings are all Colonial in design. Few houses, even among the many that are being restored, have retained the old-time atmosphere throughout as completely as has this farmhouse. Each room has been made comfortable and given an air of space, and consistency has been shown in the furnishing, thus securing a result that is perfectly harmonious and in the best of taste. By comparing the appearance of the old house at the time of its purchase with the results that have been obtained, one realizes how much thought and care have been put into its every part. The lines remain the same but have been extended by the introduction of the pergola at one side and a porch which are very attractive features in themselves. The combination of old and new, correctly treated, has done much to make a harmonious whole. CHAPTER XIX THE GEORGE D. HALL HOUSE Fortunate is he who, on opening up the old fireplace in the house he intends to remodel, finds hidden away behind plaster and paper a pair of old andirons and possibly a shovel and tongs, indispensable furnishings for the fireplace. No old farmhouse but what has in almost every room some kind of an open hearth, and these are useless for the burning of wood without fire-dogs or andirons, as they are commonly known. To the inexperienced house owner who is looking for economy in his house furnishing, reproductions are tempting, and most attractive sets of fire-dogs are to be found in almost every store. In choosing a set, however, one must exercise judgment. Many of the reproductions are low in cost but are really merely lengths of brass piping, showing brass balls that are lacquered and strung together on invisible wire frames. They are in reality the cheapest kind of spun-brass andirons. If one with a knowledge of the weight of brass handles them, he will realize their flimsiness, but thousands of people do not recognize the difference. Poor fireplace accessories such as these detract greatly from the charm that surrounds a good hearth and mantel. It is no longer easy to pick up original, cut-brass andirons at the antique and junk shops,--that is, at a reasonable price. It is in the country places, old farmhouses, and from people who have not yet learned to gage their worth, that one can get a good bargain, bringing often only three or four dollars a pair, and being of the best material. In reproduction there are on the market to-day plenty of good, cast-brass andirons, but they are expensive and cannot be purchased at less than seven dollars, ranging from that to a hundred dollars a pair, while the spun-brass kind may be purchased for two dollars and a half a pair. Andirons come in a great many heights, and in the olden times two sets were used, the one holding the forestick, and the other the backlog. In addition to that, in the earliest American houses, creepers were used; they were, in reality, of iron, small enough to be placed between the andirons, and they helped out in holding the sticks. The first material used for andirons was iron, and we find to-day occasional specimens of this kind, many of them not particularly graceful, while others are very ornamental in design. There are the Hessian andirons which are found either in plain iron or decorated with bright paint; these came into use about 1776 and were used to caricature the British soldiers who were very unpopular in our country. The most interesting of these old andirons show unusual shapes, a great many of them having artistic ornamentation; occasionally we find them with brass tops. It was fitting to use this metal, on account of the fire frame, which was of cast-iron as well, and while many of these were of foreign manufacture, yet not a few were fashioned by the village blacksmith. In the choice of andirons, the size of the fireplace should be considered; the small ones should not have the steeple tops but small, ball pattern or some other design that is low enough not to crowd the fireplace and thus give the impression of bad taste. The large fireplaces need the high andirons, of which there are so many different kinds. The modern adaptation of the Colonial has brought these furnishings into vogue, so that to-day it would be almost impossible to tell the old from the new. Shovel and tongs were much used during the early period, but a poker never accompanied the set. These appeared after the introduction of coal and are found among the reproductions on the market to-day. Another bit of the furnishings is the fender, of which there are many designs, some being of simple wire painted black with brass top and balls, while others are entirely of brass. The warming-pan is an appropriate accessory for this part of the room; it should be hung on a peg at one side of the hearth. In addition to that, we find the bellows, some of which are most decorative in their design. The proper selection of this furniture gives an air of refinement to the room. There is a most attractive farmhouse situated in Dover, Massachusetts. It is owned by Mr. George D. Hall, and shows a series of remodelings, rather than a complete work, for each year an addition has been made which has bettered the initial scheme. The original farmhouse, for instance, which was built in 1729, was a small, unpretentious building that was very dilapidated in condition, but whose situation appealed to its present owner. It was his desire to obtain an old house that could be used if need be for an all-the-year-round home; plenty of land, picturesque views, good landscape effects, and ample elbow room were what he especially desired. [Illustration: LONE TREE FARM] The house stands back from a winding country road in one of the most picturesque situations it would be possible to find. An old stone wall, built over a century ago by the original owner, still forms a boundary line to protect the grounds. Few estates show so many beautiful trees; they add greatly to the pictorial effect of the place. Graceful elms with swaying branches are on every side, while on the opposite side of the road pine trees are in evidence, and on either side of the stone wall wild shrubs have been planted. There has been no attempt at formal arrangement of the grounds, not even with the garden which is at the side of the house. There has been built simply a picturesque lattice that separates house from barn and over which have been trained attractive vines. [Illustration: As Finally Remodeled] In 1907 a wing was thrown out to the south, with an enclosed, tiled porch and a sitting-room above. A small eyebrow window was placed in the roof to light the stairway, while the original porch on the west and south was carefully retained. Two years later this porch was removed, and a smaller entrance one was substituted. This showed a brick walk extending from carriage block to covered loggia at the south. Again in 1914 the eyebrow window was removed, and dormers inserted in the roof. An open, tiled platform was built outside the enclosed loggia, and a sleeping-porch was added to the east sitting-room. A garden and pond were laid out to the south of the loggia, with a vista framed by two huge elms that were some thirty feet south of the house. These improvements have converted the old farmhouse into one of the most interesting and beautiful houses that can be found. Within the last few years the planting and garden effects have been more carefully considered; the grounds have been enlarged, and at the left of the house an old-fashioned garden has been laid out with a gazing-globe for the central feature. The name "Lone Tree Farm" was given at the time of purchase from the fact that a single tree guarded the house at the front. This tree still stands but has been enhanced by the careful planting of shrubbery on either side the driveway, which has now grown until it has become a partial screen for the lower floor of the farmhouse. Other trees have been added, and in order to obtain the seclusion desired, extensive grounds have been purchased on the opposite side of the road, so that no neighbors may come near enough to detract from the quiet. In remodeling this house, an ell has been added at the rear for the service department, and a sun-parlor has been thrown out at one side. This makes a most attractive living-room in winter and, with windows removed, a cool sleeping-porch in the summer. The Colonial porch which has been added at the front is much more attractive than the former long veranda which is replaced by the sun-parlor. In painting the house, white has been used with green blinds, so that it is in reality a symphony of green and white, and as it stands in the center of the lot, surrounded on three sides by pasture land, gardens, and meadows, and on the front by hundreds of acres of woodland, it is one of the most interesting studies in house remodeling to be found. The small hallway is simply an entrance with narrow, winding staircase that leads by easy treads to the second-story floor. In 1914, in ripping out these front stairs to secure the space above them for a small room, it was discovered that the old smoke-house, where in olden days hams were cured, and the back of the bake oven behind it had not been torn out. The former consisted of two Gothic arches, the taller of which was twenty feet in height; the shape was dependent on the two fireplaces in adjoining rooms. The smoke-house is about five feet deep and when discovered was enclosed with an inch of greasy soot. An oak cross-beam with hand-wrought nails indicated where the hogs were hung. It had been left in its natural state after being cleaned out, and as it looked crude to one entering the front door, it was shut off with an old, paneled door, so that the hall, with stairs removed, is now shaped like six sides of a hexagon, the front door remaining where it originally was placed. [Illustration: The Living Room] The living-room, which is at the right of the hallway, has been made from two rooms. In this the old woodwork has been carefully retained, and the walls have been hung with a soft green that is a fine background for the many pictures and which brings out the beauty of the white woodwork. The furniture here does not follow the Colonial lines, for comfort has been the first consideration. It is shown in the large, roomy davenport piled with sofa pillows and the comfortable armchair at one side of the open fireplace. Here the owner has supplied the correct fireplace accessories, the andirons being low with brass ball tops, and the shovel and tongs having the same finish. The mantel, while not elaborate, shows hand-carving and paneling. Bookcases are a feature of this room and are found everywhere. [Illustration: The Sun Parlor] Opening from the living-room is the glass-enclosed sun-parlor which has been tiled, and in which is a modern fireplace of bricks laid in white mortar. Over it is a bas-relief. The andirons are high, of modern type, showing fleur-de-lis design, and are in keeping with the fireplace. Willow furniture is used in order to give the sun-parlor a light touch which could not have been done if the Colonial idea had been carried out. It is an ideal summer living-room, being sunny most of the day. Then, too, its location is well chosen, as it overlooks the old-fashioned garden and commands vistas cut in trees and shrubbery. [Illustration: The Den] The den, used extensively by the owner, is a typical man's room. Built-in bookcases and window-seats give it a most livable look, while pictures of the hunt line the wall, and a hunting scene is used as a frieze. It is placed in a sunny part of the house so as to catch as much light as possible. [Illustration: A Corner in the Dining Room] The dining-room was made from a part of the old kitchen and strangely enough shows fine paneling of white pine, which has been carefully preserved and makes a background for the mantel ornaments. The mantel shelf is narrow and extends around the whole fireplace; the old chimney has been partly built in for modern use, while the andirons are very unique reproductions. The old crane has been retained, as have the pothooks and iron kettle, while the old brick oven, now never used, is a memento of the days when our grandmothers cooked with great logs of wood, heating the oven once a week in order to do the family baking. The furniture is of the Colonial type, while the rugs are modern but blend with the scheme color of the room. It is large, well-lighted by many windows, and divided by an alcove only from the living-room which adjoins it. Every room in this house has been carefully considered with regard to view, and one can stand at any window and look out upon a different phase of country life, for trees and shrubbery are so arranged that the grounds lend themselves admirably to pictorial effects upon which no neighboring house intrudes. [Illustration: The Sewing Room] Up-stairs in the ell of the house, over the sun-parlor, is a large sitting-room. It has been so designed that it faces three different directions and is lighted by a group of long windows at one side. In this room the sunlight lays practically all day, making it a bright, livable room, where Colonial features have not been considered. To be sure there are several pieces, such as the old-time work-table, but modern ideas mainly have been introduced. On either side of the cluster of windows are built-in bookcases which have been painted white to match the trim and are filled with well-read books. Between these bookcases is a long window-seat, beneath which drawers have been built which are very convenient for holding unfinished work. The hangings are of muslin with blue over-drapery, harmonizing with the color scheme of the room. A large, open fireplace on the opposite side provides for a cheery wood fire, more especially on stormy days, for this house is one that is lived in all the year round, so that heating and lighting had to be taken into consideration. In addition to this room there are three chambers, two bathrooms, and a closet on the floor. Each one of these chambers has been given a different treatment. One of the most interesting shows fine woodwork in the paneled doors and also in the small closet that is over the fireplace, a favorite place for a closet to be introduced in the early days. The fireplace is not a large one, and the andirons are small-sized steeple tops. The bed is an old slat bed, while every piece of furniture is in keeping with the period. Take it all in all, one rarely finds a farmhouse that shows more attractive features than this one, where comfort, light, and view have all been carefully considered. It is perfectly available for an all-the-year-round home, as it is not too far from the station to allow its occupants to go back and forth to business every day. CHAPTER XX THE WALTER SCOTT HOPKINS HOUSE When you plan to remodel your house, there is nothing that should receive much more careful attention than the closets. It is doubtful, that is, if the house is of the earliest period, if you will find many. Our emigrant ancestors did not have as many clothes or table appointments as we require to-day. The few of the former they possessed were hung on pegs or disposed of in chests; the dishes were placed on racks, thus eliminating the necessity for closet room in houses where every available bit of space was utilized for living purposes. In all probability you will find corner cupboards which will be more or less elaborate in design. The best examples show a shell treatment. The earliest corner cupboards were clumsy affairs, being movable; later on they were built into the house and employed to hold family china and glassware. There was a great variety in these closets, some being fitted up with shelves only, while others were divided in two, the underneath part being used for books and odds and ends. Fortunate is the house owner who finds in his old house one or more of these old corner cupboards. To be sure they can be reproduced; but how much better are the originals. Dig out the old plaster, rip open the sides of the partitions, if you think there is any chance of odd closets being hidden away between, and remember that in many old houses there are secret closets, and it will pay you to tap the wall space to discover their whereabouts. Sometimes they are hidden under the flooring, and again the space between the windows is used for this purpose. It is always well to open them, for who knows what valuable heirlooms may be hidden inside. There are plenty of spaces where new closets can be introduced as, for instance, the end of the dining-room, where a glassed-in china closet with an arched top and half-domed interior makes an excellent place to display the old china and glass. Panels in the wainscot can be utilized, more especially when they are under the first step of the staircase. These are most convenient for filing newspapers or any magazines that are kept for reference. If the hallway is paneled, it is a very easy matter to put an invisible door into one of the panels. This can be used for the coat closet, with a low shelf underneath to hold hats; and on the floor partitions can be made to hold rubbers. On each side of the chimney a great deal of waste space can be converted into bookcases, with little, leaded, glass doors. Above the mantel, set in the chimney-breast, will be found spaces which even in the early days were devoted to closets. They are cut in a panel and were used to protect china or old pewter from the dust. Sometimes three of these closets have been found built into the fireplaces, all of which were used to hold the household china. In the upper part of the house, under the attic stairs, can generally be found places that can be made into linen closets, but it must be remembered that if no ventilation is allowed, cloth will become yellowed, so by all means have brass ventilators in the doors. Whatever the purpose of the closet, its location should be carefully considered,--the shape, the place, and the cost,--so that as many as possible can be introduced. There is no doubt that the majority of old-time farmhouses readily adapt themselves to modern requirements and show possibilities that allow of most attractive development. The result of working out certain possibilities is shown in the Walter Scott Hopkins house at Reading, Massachusetts. It is a long, rambling house that seemed when first purchased wholly lacking in artistic qualities, and it was not until after careful deliberation that the owner realized that the old farmhouse, beneath its coating of accumulated dust, possessed a wealth of fine features that were well worth developing. [Illustration: Before Remodeling] The house had been used for two families, and each section was separate and distinct, although under the same roof. It was built in the latter part of the eighteenth century and contains fine woodwork,--better than that found in most houses of that day. All the distinctive features of the Colonial architecture were evident in this old farmhouse, where unbroken roof-line, close-cropped eaves, and small-paned windows were placed with mathematical precision, and the severely simple exterior was in strict conformity with the period. In remodeling the house, the original outlines were carefully preserved, and the additions were made to conform. The small, ugly entrances which had marred the exterior of the house were torn down and replaced by windows, so that only a single entrance was left. A very attractive porch with sloping roof-line was supported by solid but unornamented columns. In the roof dormer windows were cut, both at the front and rear. This was to make the attic practical for living purposes by affording sufficient light and air. At one side of the house, in place of the woodshed, an out-of-door living-room was added, broad and low of build, with a sloping roof that harmonized in outline with the main roof. At the rear a small addition of the deep, bay-window type was added; this was to secure extra space for the newly arranged dining-room and the remodeled kitchen. Two small porches were built in addition to the new trellised entrance, giving a simple dignity to the old house, which has been painted white with green blinds. [Illustration: As Remodeled] The grounds, rough and unkempt, with a stone wall defining a part of them, were beautified to afford a fitting environment for the new home, and to-day smooth sweeps of lawn and judicious groupings of shrubbery add in no small degree to the exterior attractiveness of the old homestead. A path of rough, irregular flagstones leads to the main entrance, and a similar path winds from the street to a gateway in the outlying wall and opens into a charming garden plot that has been laid out just beyond the outdoor living-room. Planting has been judiciously carried out, and the estate has been brought to a fine state of cultivation, with the result that it has become an attractive setting for the remodeled house, which stands on the slope of a hill. The interior required a great deal of altering, including much tearing down of partitions to suit present-day needs and to make broad, spacious rooms out of the tiny spaces which sufficed a century or more ago. There was installation of plumbing, lighting and heating devices, in order to meet the demands of modern life, and the New England attic was made over into servants' quarters that were sufficiently ample for a large country house. A leaded glass door that shows fanlight above opens into a broad, low-ceilinged hall. At one side is a large fireplace, and a heavy beam crosses the ceiling. To the right is the new dining-room, to the left the living-room, and from the end of the hall opens the den, a passageway connecting this with the servants' department. In all the rooms every detail of the old-fashioned construction has been retained. The fine woodwork shows the original paneling; the great fireplaces with their chimney closets have been preserved intact, and even the old, hand-made hardware has been retained for present-day use. Cupboards were discovered, when the coating of plaster and paper were removed, and are serving the same purpose in the twentieth-century home that they did years ago in the Colonial one; and the new cupboards that have been added seem to fit in as if they had always been there. The house in its entirety shows many points that are of unusual interest. The arrangement of the windows is particularly good, as are the chimneys, while the sweeping roof-line at the rear carries out the old contour and yet has been slightly changed to afford light and air to chambers inside. The semblance of the original farmhouse has been left unaltered, while the really radical changes have been tempered with a regard for the preservation of the old-time atmosphere. [Illustration: The Living Room] The living-room shows a typical old farmhouse room. The woodwork here is particularly good; there is a wainscot three feet high that comes above the lower sill of the window frame, and which is paneled in doors and over the mantel. The fireplace has remained unchanged, being a Colonial one of huge size. The early period is evidenced in the absence of a mantel, which brings out the lines of the wonderful old woodwork to the greatest advantage. The andirons, instead of following the sixteenth or seventeenth-century type, represent griffins. A nightcap closet, introduced in the middle panel over the fireplace, shows the original H hinges of iron. When the house was first purchased, these were hidden away, and only when the original woodwork was reached were they discovered, restored, treated to a coat of white paint, and adapted to present use. This is a feature that is rarely found in the remodeled farmhouse of to-day. The walls are hung with a one-toned paper of soft coloring, while plain muslin curtains shade the windows. The old floor was re-laid with narrow boards over which are laid Daghestan rugs; Mission furniture is used. The lighting fixtures are of the Colonial type and placed at the sides only. The room contains many well-placed windows which give to it light and air. [Illustration] [Illustration: Two Views of the Dining Room] The dining-room is at the rear of the living-room and opens into it, being connected with a wide opening so that, if need be, the rooms can be used as one, giving plenty of space for large dinner parties. Here the woodwork has been restored to its original charming simplicity and painted white to match that of the living-room. The walls have been covered with a dark-toned paper, and at one end, opposite the living-room, an alcoved recess has been added in order that its group of windows may give better lighting to the dining-room which is exposed to the outside on two sides only. The floors of this room, too, have been re-laid and handsomely polished, and are an effective foil to the domestic rug which is used. Here, also, the furniture follows the Mission style, in order to be in keeping with that of the living-room. The lighting fixtures are of the same type found in the adjoining room and are also side lights, considered more effective because softer than a ceiling light. In order to let the light in from the hallway, windows were inserted which follow the early window casing in their plain style and contain small panes, there being no elaboration. They are placed on either side of the entrance door, which is glassed in the upper portion. Here, as all through the house, the early style of small-paned windows has been retained. There are many reasons why these are advantageous: not only do they follow the period in which the house was built, carrying out details correctly, but when broken they are more easily replaced, though much harder to keep clean. These windows are usually placed near the ceiling, being designed for light and ornamentation, rather than as outlooks. The ornamental design which has been carried out in the arrangement of windows and door is unusual even in Colonial houses, where the low stud and the beamed ceiling helped much towards effectiveness. This room was originally the kitchen and bedroom combined. The old fireplace has been preserved, as has the brick oven, and over it is a series of small closets such as are rarely found. There is a central closet and a smaller one on either side. Here the H hinges have been retained and also the old-time latches. On the opposite side of the hall is the parlor, which corresponds in size to the living-room and shows equally fine woodwork. This was originally the parlor in the farther side of the double house and has been left practically its original shape and size, for in this part of the house very little remodeling has been done. The old fireplace has been retained at the farther end of the room. At the rear of this, what was once the sitting-room has been converted into an office. Beyond this room, the original kitchen on that side of the house and the shed have been thrown into a most attractive summer room. In the story above there were formerly two large bedrooms on either side. These remain practically as they were and are furnished with Colonial pieces. The old attic, which originally was used for clutter, is now remodeled into servants' quarters and by the addition of the dormer windows has been made into comfortable rooms which can be kept cool during the warm weather by the cross draughts. The architects were very wise in remodeling this house so as to show its extremely simple lines, for they give it individuality and character and accentuate certain features that were necessary to create of it a home for one family. There is no doubt that the alterations have been planned and executed with rare taste and discrimination. CHAPTER XXI Henry W. Wright's House People who possess old pieces of furniture often have very erroneous ideas as to their real age and call everything "Colonial" for want of a better name. They assume, that is, if they have not made a careful study of the subject, that anything belonging to their great grandmother must be at least two hundred years old. But, for instance, sideboards were not made two hundred years ago, and Chippendale never designed one; the nearest he came to it was a serving-table. People get an impression that he included this piece of furniture in his productions, but they are wrong in their assumption. The revival of interest in "antiques" has caused many an heirloom that has been relegated to attic or storehouse to be brought out, renovated, and given a prominent place. Can we assign to each ancient article an approximate date or maker, it becomes much more valuable than the daintiest piece of up-to-date furniture. Worm-holes are a sign of age and a proof of guarantee, that is, if the pieces are family possessions. There is so much cunning workmanship in remodeled furniture that this does not apply to every bit, though apparently original. It must be remembered that very few furnishings were brought over by the colonists, and the early houses were very scantily supplied. The oldest furniture was made of oak; it was very heavy and showed more or less elaboration in carving. Chests made at this early period are often found in families where they have been carefully treasured since they were brought over the sea packed with clothing. The three leading cabinetmakers were Chippendale, Hepplewhite, and Sheraton. Chippendale was the earliest but was not appreciated until after his death. His masterpieces, which combined the Chinese, French, and Dutch models with ideas originated in his own brain, were so perfectly constructed that we find them in a fine state of preservation even to-day. Lighter and more dainty in character were the designs of Hepplewhite, who cultivated a freedom of line such as was adopted by his predecessor, but who banished the Chippendale heaviness. The Prince of Wales feather was a favorite design of his. Carved drapery, the belle-flower, and wheat were often used by him. A distinguishing mark was usually given to the backs of his chairs, which are either oval, heart, or shield-shaped. They were finished in japanned work and often inlaid in light and dark wood. The legs were generally much more slender than the Chippendale and often ended in what is known as a spade-foot. Sheraton, who succeeded him, took advantage of the ideas of his forerunners and revealed a still more delicate touch, although he retained many of Hepplewhite's ideas which he strengthened and improved. The shield is rarely if ever found in a chair of his make, which can be distinguished by its rectangular back and its slender uprights, ranging in number from four to seven. The legs show a great many different styles, the best being straight, while carved, fluted, and twisted ones are also found. The general trend of fancy in those days was towards light, elegant designs and showy decorations. Sheraton indulged his fancy for brilliant coloring in the most gorgeously painted decorations, combining them with inlay and carving. Next he introduced white and gold, following the French style, and still later the brass inlay so fashionable in Napoleon's day. Caned work was used for seats and was varied by coverings of needlework, morocco, striped and variegated horsehair, damasks, and fine printed silks. The curved piece which Sheraton introduced about 1800 remained the favorite chair pattern for a century, although it lost the brass mounts which he at first used. There is not much danger of confounding the three great masters, for each produced an entirely different style of furniture. After the French Revolution, the furniture became markedly different in style; Greek models were once more popular, and the tripod became a favorite support. Coarse woods and mahogany were freely used and were carved and profusely gilded. The Empire furniture which is so popular to-day was heavy and stiff in its early period, particularly so when of English make, but under American manipulation the beauty of the wood showed to the best advantage. Yet there is a certain appeal in its solidity and massiveness. When the darkened mahogany came into fashion an opportunity arose for the revival of brass and wood that lent charm to the court of the Empress Josephine. Few good examples of the Empire style are found in remodeled farmhouses. Old furniture is most interesting, and if you intend to furnish your remodeled farmhouse with it, do not fail to make a careful study of the subject before attempting it. It covers a wide field of makers, styles, and decorations, but the modern home affords ample scope for the employment of these old pieces, many of which have been brought down from the attic. When Salem was in her highest and proudest days of mercantile prosperity, when her wharves were bustling scenes of unlading and shipping, when her harbor was a gathering place of quaintly rigged vessels, and great East-Indiamen labored under clouds of canvas, then from the holds of these cumbersome ships were discharged cargoes of rich furniture, teakwood, and sandalwood brought from every land. The wealth of these incoming treasures has made the quiet city prominent even until to-day. Here may be found many old heirlooms, and in the homes of the descendants of old shipmasters we frequently find rare pieces. These show to advantage in various remodeled farmhouses that have been adopted as all-the-year-round homes by the last generation. [Illustration: THE HENRY W. WRIGHT HOUSE] Many fine old pieces are found in the home of Mr. Henry W. Wright at Danvers, Massachusetts. Some of them are of exceptional value and rare examples such as are seldom seen even in the homes of collectors. The farmhouse itself stands close to the road, a simple, plain, unostentatious building, yet showing good lines and careful treatment. The soft gray of the exterior and the white trim blend harmoniously with the green of the grass and the bright-colored flowers of the little garden. At the front of the house at each side stand tall elms that cast a grateful shade over the old farmhouse. The entrance porch has been made square, its lattice, designed for the support of vines, taking away the plain look of the exterior. The windows are well spaced, and the small panes have been retained. At the side of the house a porch has been thrown out which can be glassed in as a living-room or sun-parlor during the winter and used as an out-of-door veranda during the summer months. It is so situated that it commands a picturesque view of the rolling country which is on every side. The big chimney, that was formerly the central feature of the house, has given way to two smaller ones, one on either end. The sloping roof has been treated to new shingles, while the exterior has been left practically as it was when built. The addition of green blinds has done much to soften what would otherwise be a rather bare exterior. The house is of the type that shows four rooms in each story. The hallway has a castellated paper in gray and white and a winding staircase with box stairs and simple balusters and posts painted white and a mahogany rail. It is a simple little hall, small, compact, and truly Colonial in its type, with its Dutch armchair showing pierced slats of Chippendale influence. This chair was probably made about the time the house was built which was in the early part of the eighteenth century, the date not being definitely known. [Illustration: The Living Room] At the left of the hallway is the living-room, which is of the simple farmhouse type, lacking a wainscot but containing a simple mopboard and paneled door. The wide boards in the flooring have been retained here as well as in the dining-room,--plain-edged boards that, while laid close together, still show a crack between. This living-room was in the early days used as living-room and bedroom; the space at the farther end, which was used as a closet into which the bed folded during the daytime, is now utilized as a bookcase and makes an interesting feature. The slat-back chair beside the bookcase is the most valuable type of its period, being made about 1750. It shows a turned knob. In chairs of this kind, which were more commonly used during the first part of the eighteenth century, the number of slats varied, the most common having three, while the rarest have five. The gate-legged table is a good example, while the Chippendale chair is unusual, showing very graceful effect, with wonderfully delicate carving, and being of the best design. An equally rare example of a Hepplewhite chair, which is beautifully carved, is contained in the same room. In addition to these are banister and Sheraton chairs, as well as a fine example of girandole, uncommon from the fact that there is a pair exactly alike, and they are seen one on either side of the room. [Illustration: The Dining Room] Opposite the living-room is the dining-room, and here the same correct furnishing has been used. The plain wainscot is of the early type, the lighting has Colonial fixtures, while the chairs are painted Sheraton, being most unusual in that there is a whole set of the same pattern which are all originals. A wonderfully fine example of a mahogany dining-table has been utilized as a serving-table, and the silver is all of the Colonial pattern. Here one finds the low stud, but none of the exposed beams often found in old houses. At the rear of the dining-room is the kitchen which is equipped with modern appliances. Leading from the dining-room at the left is a small room which has been fitted up as a music-room and den combined. It is a most livable room, there being no stiffness or formality in the arrangement of the furniture, and each piece of furniture proves a fitting foil for its mate. The wall hangings are not of the Colonial type; they are plain gray and bring out to advantage the setting of furniture, pictures, and ornaments in the room. In the upper hall is found a fine old carved chest of the Jacobean period. This is considered one of the best examples of chests in existence, being wonderfully carved, of solid oak, and probably used originally as a dower chest. Leading off from the hallway are four large, square chambers, each one correctly furnished with Colonial pieces, many of which are family heirlooms. Here, where modern lighting has been introduced, the Colonial type of fixtures has been carefully maintained. In all the house there is no central light, all the lights being at the side. In the upper story as well as the lower, the wide flooring has been retained, as it was found in such excellent condition it could easily be used. [Illustration] [Illustration: Two Noteworthy Chambers] The steeple-topped andirons in the simple fireplace, the painted mirror, and the old brass candlesticks of one chamber are most appropriately chosen. The Field bed has a canopy of white with ball fringe which is an exact replica of the old-time draping. Rag mats have been used for the floor; they are not the common braided ones but woven rugs which are more suitable. Alcoved recesses are shown on either side of the fireplace; in one of them a six-legged, high chest of drawers with china steps, designed about 1720, shows drop handles, and is ornamented with rare old family china. On the opposite side is a wing or Martha Washington chair of the Sheraton type. The bureau, 1815, is a fine example of the period, while the swell-front, Hepplewhite bureau with the oval, pressed-brass handles and the painted mirror above are in conformity with the general scheme. A banister-backed chair with a rush bottom stands at one side of the bed. Very unusual is the Colonial wall-paper which is found in a second chamber, while eighteenth-century andirons are used in the fireplace which is still of the original size and which shows a plain Colonial mantel. In this chamber, as in the other, there is a very plain wainscot of boards placed horizontally. An Empire bed which has wonderfully beautiful carving is shown in this room, and also a very unusual chair known as a comb-back rocker and dating about 1750. The rugs here are of the Arts and Crafts style, while the bureau and writing-table have cabriole legs and secret drawers, the central one with rising sun or fan carving. Every piece in this house is genuine, for they all are heirlooms or pieces that have been carefully chosen, since the owner is an expert in determining period and correct types. It is a well-known fact that to-day one has to be a careful student of furniture not to be deceived. The popularity of the Colonial period, more especially since the vogue of the modified Colonial house, has led many a fakir to reproduce the lines of the genuine antique. Skilful workmen are employed to manufacture these pieces, and they are able, by imitating worm-holes, dentation, and other distinguishing marks, to put on the market pieces whose genuineness even the antique dealer is puzzled to decide. All through the country the value of antiques is becoming better and better known, so that it is far more difficult to obtain bargains than it was even five years ago. To-day, so great has grown the demand, people who before were unaware of the worth of their heirlooms have been led to overestimate their value and they now ask fabulous sums for pieces hitherto neglected and ignored. CHAPTER XXII THE HOWLAND S. CHANDLER HOUSE When your house is remodeled, be careful what kind of paint you use for both outside and inside finish. A variation from the right tone will mar the whole effect. So much depends on this that one should not copy from houses of to-day but turn back to the style of a century ago, so that in this particular, at least, the house shall correspond with the old Colonial idea. Few, if any, care to use a weathered exterior, that is, unless the scientifically treated shingles that will soon turn a silver gray are employed. There are two reasons why your house should be painted: one is that it preserves the wood and if rightly treated is fireproof; the second is that it gives the finish a far better appearance than it would have without paint. Every house needs paint of some kind to improve its appearance, whether it be oil paint or stain. There are many different brands found to-day, and they are of every conceivable color, so that you have a wide range of choice. It is always safe to use one made by a reliable concern or one hand-mixed, if both white lead and linseed oil are absolutely pure. There is nothing more variable in quality than paint, and even experts are puzzled at times and it is necessary to have a chemical analysis in order to determine between good and bad. For exterior use the proper kind should be a mixture of pure white lead and linseed oil or pure zinc white and linseed oil. Manufacturers, more especially those of white lead paints, will insist that theirs is the only kind to use, and the zinc paint producers will do likewise, but a reliable dealer or architect will inform you correctly. One of the first colors to be used on any house is white,--in all probability there is nothing as durable as this. The reason for it is that the ingredients used have greater wearing qualities than any of the other pigments. There is a complaint that it is apt to yellow with age and become discolored, but in reality it remains unchanged longer than almost any other color. Green blinds secure the best effect, or trellises that relieve the monotony of the white. This the old farmers realized, and it is one of the reasons why it was so much used. If your house is shingled, there are a great many shades of gray that need a white trim, and there is no color that harmonizes with every other as well as this. There are a great many reliable stains for shingles; do not let the painter mix the stain himself, because that carefully prepared by a manufacturer is generally superior both in color and durability. In mixing these stains, both Creosote and oil are used, there being on the market to-day excellent brands of both kinds. The repainting of the country house is a necessary evil that recurs periodically. We tire of one color as we weary of an old dress, and this leads to a different tone of coloring each time. For instance, the white house is changed possibly to a Colonial yellow or a gray, and with its new coat it seems to take on a new lease of life. The fall of the year is the best time for the painting, as the dry October weather is especially suited for good results. During the summer months there are insects flying about and too much dust. By October the outside has had time to cool after the heat and is in good condition for treatment. The time to paint is before the house gets shabby, when the paint is powdery or porous. It can be tested with either a knife or the finger, and if the old paint chips off, soaks up water, or can be rubbed off like a powder with the finger, it no longer protects the wood and needs another coat. With this covering of paint, wood will last practically forever, and as lumber is expensive, it is greater economy to keep your house properly painted. The cost of painting is a serious problem to many house owners and is never alluded to by an agent when selling a house; to the novice it does not occur, so eager is he to secure for himself a new home. At the end of the second year, its freshness is dimmed through exposure to wind and storm, and at the end of the third season, it is shabby and needs a new covering. In attempting to figure the cost, it is necessary to ascertain the square feet on the outside. Any painter has a rule for this, making allowances for errors. Windows and doors are considered as plain surfaces that are to be treated to paint even though only the sills and sides are in need of it. Good exterior paint costs from three to five dollars a gallon, and a painter can put on one hundred square yards in a day for the first coat and seventy-five for the second. This gives the house owner a little idea of what it will cost, although it is best to make a regular bargain with the architect to cover this expense. For interior finish, white is always preferable. It seems to be the proper treatment for any Colonial home. To be sure, if you are planning for a den, a dark color can be used and also a stain for the kitchen part of the house. In searching for a farmhouse to be converted into a country home, Mr. Howland S. Chandler of Boston chanced upon an old house at Needham, Massachusetts, that seemed to meet his requirements. It was a square-framed house, two stories and a half in height, with a kitchen ell at the rear. It was not handsome but quite ordinary in appearance and without any unusual exterior features. It was not even a seventeenth-century house but was built in 1801, and it was in such good condition and the frame was so sound that it hardly deserved the term "old." [Illustration: THE HOWLAND S. CHANDLER HOUSE] The farmhouse fronted the southwest, so that its main rooms were dark, with little sunlight, while the rear was flooded with light and very cheerful. There were delightful views from this part of the house which overlooked a merry, gurgling brook, the mill-pond, and the distant hills. But this idea had not entered the minds of the former owners, who had given little consideration to the subject and with no forethought had inserted only two small windows, one in the kitchen and the other in a bedroom. Evidently their idea was to sacrifice view to arrangement, for to their minds, houses should be built parallel to the street and with the "best room" at the front. [Illustration: THE HOWLAND S. CHANDLER HOUSE--END VIEW] The grounds showed little care, but in remodeling a brick-paved terrace was arranged at the left just outside the original parlor. An old-fashioned garden was planted near the kitchen end, and a trellis enclosed the clothes-yard. The grounds in front of the house have been laid out in well-trimmed lawns, while a brick walk now leads from the sidewalk to the house. A feature of the house is a large, overhanging elm which affords shade and picturesqueness; fresh shrubbery has been attractively planted, and vines trained to clamber over latticed work and the trellised porch which is at the front of the house. Dormer windows have been added to the roof, and the simple little farmhouse has been converted into a most attractive all-the-year-round home. In the process of remodeling, the original house was left unchanged, and additions were depended upon for development. A good-sized porch with brick floor and high-backed settles at the side replaced the unattractive, old-time entrance, while the dormers relieved the long, monotonous roof-line and afforded light to the apartment constructed from the formerly unfinished attic space. Just outside the original parlor, beside the shed space, an addition has been built that runs midway of the shed to the line of the chimney in the parlor, and without a large covered veranda is added. To the kitchen ell an addition of about four feet was made to provide space for a vestibule within the new back door and also to secure extra space at one side of the room so that a window might be inserted. Due attention was paid to the rear, in the matter of windows, and here were laid out the rooms which would be most frequently used. In consequence of the rearrangement, the interior is practically wholly changed. The shed was remodeled into a charming sewing-room that opens at one side on to a veranda, and the new addition was combined with the little bedroom and a small portion from the parlor to secure space for a library. This made possible a doorway to the dining-room and sewing-room, and a broad open space to the living-room. [Illustration: The Sun-Parlor] The old-time parlor showed two deep closets beside the fireplace. One of these was torn out, a window was inserted in the outer wall, and a seat was built beneath it. The other was made into an opening into the library. This arrangement secured additional light and at the same time permitted a glimpse of the picturesque rear view. In the dining-room several alterations were made, resulting in a complete change in shape and size. Oblique walls replace the two rear corners, one containing the doorway leading to the library, and the other affording entrance and furnishing some space for the china closet which was inserted between the dining-room and the kitchen. The single window on the southeast was replaced by a semi-octagonal bow recess. This was fitted with small lights of glass and affords space for the grouping of many plants and incidentally adds a touch of distinct picturesqueness. The kitchen received its share of consideration during the process of remodeling, resulting in the substitution of a pleasant, convenient apartment in place of the conspicuous, ill-lighted, original one. There was added at the right of the vestibule a built-in refrigerator, and about the side walls of the room newly built-in cupboards were grouped. Two important changes in the body of the house consisted in the enlargement of the cellar, made necessary by the greater space required for the modern heating apparatus, and in the substitution of the original, small-paned type of window for the two panes which had been inserted to take the place of the old ones. [Illustration: The Hall] The entrance hall at the front of the house is a small apartment hung with landscape paper of the Colonial period; a staircase with one landing and a half turn in its flight, showing white balusters and mahogany top, leads to the second story. In the lighting, the Colonial idea is attained by the use of a lantern, while under the stairs is a closet opened by a brass door-pull. [Illustration: The Living Room] At the left is the living-room, with dull red hangings and a white wainscot that provides a fitting background for the wonderful old mahogany found in this room. There are some rare Dutch chairs sometimes known as Queen Anne from the opening that is found on either side of the central slat, designed about 1710, and the earliest of that design. There is a refreshing simplicity and a dignified air to this room, brought about in part by the simple Colonial fireplace with its steeple-topped andirons, and the well-spaced windows that let plenty of sunlight into the apartment. On the opposite side of the room is the dining-room which is finished with tapestry hanging in dark green, brown, and yellow, with a design of pine cones and needles that contrasts prettily with the white wainscot. A slight reduction in the height of the window casing affords an opportunity to carry the wall-paper and moldings across the windows and doors, thus avoiding the cramped effect of too high window arrangement. The original floor has been replaced by a new one, and a cheerful atmosphere has been given to the room by opening a semicircular bay up for a small conservatory which can be closed or opened at pleasure by the use of glass doors. [Illustration: The Den] The library has been finished in dark brown with low bookcases extending around part of the room, corresponding in color with the woodwork. The hangings are tan color, and the furniture is partly Colonial and partly modern, to meet the demands of a den. This is one of the pleasantest rooms in the house, having a delightful outlook; combined with the sewing-room and living-room opening from it, it makes a charming and conveniently arranged interior. [Illustration: The Kitchen] The kitchen at the rear of the house has been altered with the idea of saving steps. This is shown in the numberless closets at the right, for flour barrel and other supplies. At the left is the kitchen cupboard, while the china is in the built-in closet above and the groceries in the drawers below. The sink has a shelf underneath to hold the dishpan and drainer. The whole color tone, including the beamed ceiling, is a dark stain with lighter wall finish. This house is an interesting example of successful and artistic remodeling, the interior and exterior being in harmony and giving the result of a comfortable and attractive home which was secured at much less cost than if an entirely new house had been built. * * * * * The houses described in this book cover but the merest fraction of the homes and summer places evolved from old-fashioned farmhouses. They are scattered broadcast through New England, sometimes isolated on roads which still retain their country atmosphere, sometimes surrounded by the town which has outgrown its early limits, and sometimes the center of a large estate. Each has its individual charm, its special beauties, but wherever found these remodeled farmhouses testify to the stanchness of early American workmanship and to the appreciation of modern Americans for their forefathers' handiwork. Certainly many a one of the latter "builded better than he knew." INDEX Adams family, 128. Hannah, 122. Adden, W. P., 180. Adden house, W. P., 180-186. age, 181. chimney, 182-183. hardware, 184, 185. location, 180. porches, 183-184. remodeling, 182-186. type, 181. Andirons, 11, 12, 68, 125, 194, 208-210, 216, 217, 219, 227, 240, 241, 252. Hessian, 210. Arches, 81, 119. Attics, 6, 164, 186, 224, 225, 230. Balusters, 114-115. Barns, 2, 25, 65-70, 137, 191, 196-197. Barnard house, George E., 169-176. breakfast-room, 173. color scheme, 175. den, 172. dining-room, 174. location, 169. picture effect, 170, 174. remodeling, 170-174. Bathrooms, 14, 25, 35, 47, 97, 202, 204, 218. Beams, 7, 20, 29, 34, 36, 46, 47, 55, 58, 66, 75, 94, 102, 122, 130, 131, 151, 185, 197, 203, 215. Bedrooms, 13, 24, 25, 26, 36, 47, 59, 83, 108, 121, 122, 133, 148, 164, 175, 195, 206, 218, 230, 239. Billiard-room, 68. Blinds, 79, 237. inside, 80. paneled, 75. slat, 45, 75. solid, 45, 75. Venetian, 56. Boston, Massachusetts, 18, 42, 77, 122, 151. Boulder Farm, 76-83. arch, 81. history, 76-77. improvements, 78-79. location, 76, 78. parlor, 80. Bradford, Governor, 206. Breakfast-rooms, 44, 47, 133, 173-174. Brett house, Franklin, 201-207. age, 201. dining-room, 206. floors, 202. heating, 204. living-room, 205. location, 201. paneling, 207. repairs, 203. type, 202. Bricks, 126, 132. Brown, Doctor, 7. Brown, Davenport, 116. Brown house, Davenport, 116-123. age, 116. bedroom, 122. dining-room, 120. furnishings, 119, 120, 121, 122. grounds, 122-123. living-room, 119. location, 116. nursery, 121. porches, 116, 117, 118. remodeling, 116-122. type, 116. Brown, Deacon Philip, 76, 77. Burroughs, George, 53. Cape Cod, 33, 105. Cataumet, Massachusetts, 158. Ceilings, beamed, 12, 21, 25, 45, 55, 96, 152, 153, 162, 205-206, 225, 253. vaulted, 144. Cellars, 7, 30, 98, 251. Chambers, see BEDROOMS. Chandler house, Howard S., 247-253. age, 247. dining-room, 250, 252. grounds, 248. kitchen, 253. library, 252. living-room, 251. location, 247. remodeling, 247-253. type, 247. views, 247, 249, 250. Charles River, Massachusetts, 41. Chimneys, 7, 9, 18, 19, 31, 43, 50, 53, 69-70, 105, 116, 125, 144, 182-183, 203, 217, 237, 249. Clapboards, 7, 40-41, 106. Closets, 10, 23, 52, 55, 95, 96, 109, 132, 142, 148, 205, 218, 220-222, 226, 229, 250, 251, 253. chimney, 57, 218, 222, 226. china, 35, 46, 57, 68, 120, 153, 172, 185, 197, 220, 221, 250. corner, 23, 46, 163, 206, 220-221. linen, 222. nightcap, 23, 107. secret, 23, 207, 221. wainscot, 221, 222. Concord, New Hampshire, 77. Cottages, fishermen's, 28. "flecked," 33, 105. Cupboards, see CLOSETS. Curtis, Frederick H., 42. Curtis house, Frederick H., 42-48. age, 42. furnishings, 48. hardware, 48. heating, 48. lighting, 48. lines of, 43-44. location, 41-42. new wing, 44. remodeling, 43-48. stairway, 45. veranda, 47. Danvers, Massachusetts, 236. Dens, 12, 46, 58, 83, 104, 121, 131, 173, 193, 216. Dining-rooms, 10, 11, 23, 34, 46, 56-57, 68, 81-82, 95, 96, 103, 107, 120, 133, 142, 152, 162, 174, 185, 206, 217, 227, 238, 250, 252. Doors, 6, 10, 32, 45, 71-73, 180. batten, 72, 122. French, 98, 107, 133. front, 18, 54, 71, 92, 106, 150, 161, 178, 192, 202. glass, 12, 34, 47, 58, 68, 225, 252. panel, 72. secret, 45. Door-frames, 54, 73, 117, 157. Door lights, bull's-eye, 72, 92. fanlight, 117, 192, 225. side, 73, 117. top, 73. transom, 72. Dover, Massachusetts, 42, 65, 211. Drainage, 17. Drawing-room, 104. Dudley, Harry, 77. Duxbury, Massachusetts, 88, 89. Ells, 8, 9, 43, 44, 51, 53, 66, 78, 83, 91, 98, 116, 134, 139, 145, 148, 150, 161, 181, 212, 217, 249. brick, 58. Everett, Edward, 151. Farmhouses, architectural treatment, 71, 100, 138, 146. axis, 50-51, 116. Colonial, 49, 223. construction, 49-51, 116, 147, 148. cottages, 28, 29. examination, 29-33. frame, 7, 106. Georgian, 51, 75, 76, 83, 116. heating, 48, 59, 62-65, 102, 204. individuality, 84-88, 146, 187. lighting, 48, 102, 103, 109, 192, 196, 251. lines, 2, 3, 8, 15, 28, 29, 38, 147. location, 8, 16, 17, 18, 33, 41-42, 53, 62, 65, 66, 76, 78, 88-89, 105, 116, 127, 136, 138, 143, 149, 158, 169, 180, 190, 201, 212, 223, 236, 247. painting, 242-247. remodeling, 8, 9-14, 19-26, 34-36, 43-48, 52, 54-60, 66-70, 78-83, 90-99, 101-104, 105-108, 111-123, 130-134, 139-145, 147, 150-154, 159-164, 170-174, 182-186, 201-207, 214-219, 223-230, 236-240, 247-253. Fireback, 126. Fireplace fittings, 68, 82, 125, 126, 131, 208, 209, 210-211, 216, 217. Fireplaces, 3, 11, 13, 22, 24, 31, 35, 46, 50, 55, 56, 58, 62, 67, 68, 80, 82, 95, 107, 120, 121, 122, 124-127, 130, 142, 143, 144, 153, 157, 162, 175, 185, 188, 193, 205, 218, 227, 230, 240, 250, 252. Fences, 106, 123, 137, 140, 144, 159, 160. Flagstones, 75, 167, 224. Fletcher, Grace, 77. Floors, 21, 30, 32, 35, 46, 55, 82, 114, 132, 134, 142, 144, 198-200, 228, 237, 240, 252. brick, 44, 118. tiled, 117, 212, 216. Flower-boxes, 118, 134, 191. French and Indian War, 23. Frieze, 22, 24, 25, 216. Fuller, Mrs. Genevieve, 65. Furnaces, 65. Furniture, 22, 56, 59, 80, 81, 83, 108, 118, 119, 120, 121, 132, 133, 139, 152, 163, 184, 194, 196, 205, 206, 215, 219, 231-235, 237, 238, 239, 240, 241, 251, 252. Adams, 56. Chippendale, 13, 134, 232, 238. Empire, 80, 120, 164, 175, 234, 235, 241. Field, 121, 196, 240. Hepplewhite, 57, 134, 206, 232, 238, 240. home-made, 26. Jacobean, 239. Mission, 227, 228. old-fashioned, 26, 37, 46, 59, 68, 96, 108, 121, 131, 143, 153, 172, 173, 193, 195, 230, 235, 239. Queen Anne, 120, 251. Sheraton, 11, 47, 48, 119, 122, 134, 153, 233, 238, 239, 240. white enamel, 48. willow, 9, 46, 163, 171, 176. Gables, 38, 40, 41, 66. Gage, Doctor Homer, 5. Gardens, 106, 123, 129, 166-168, 170. old-fashioned, 6, 19, 98, 140, 143, 160, 184, 195, 213, 248. water, 9, 19, 213. Georgetown, Massachusetts, 18. Girandoles, 120, 238. Gloucester, Massachusetts, 149. Green Meadows, 53-60. age, 53. alterations, 54-60. dining-room, 57. door, 54. heating, 59. living-room, 55. location, 53. reception-room, 56. type, 53. wing, 58. Grills, 60, 64. Grounds, 9, 18, 89, 118, 122, 123, 129, 134, 135, 137, 138, 140, 141, 150, 159, 167-168, 182, 206, 213, 214, 224, 248. Hall, George D., 211. house, see LONE TREE FARM. Hallways, 10, 23, 45, 50, 51, 54, 92, 96, 97, 118, 151, 163, 171, 184, 192, 204, 205, 215, 237, 251. Hangings, 13, 22, 55, 56, 96, 97, 108, 109, 119, 120, 134, 163, 172, 173, 189, 190, 192, 193, 194, 205, 207, 218, 227, 239, 251, 252. Hardware, 12, 48, 55, 177-180. Harvey, Governor Matthew, 77. Heating, by fireplaces, 62. hot-air, 48, 59, 64. hot-water, 63, 64, 204. steam, 63, 64. stoves, 63. Hinges, H, 180, 184, 227. H and L, 55, 177, 179, 180, 184, 185. strap, 12. Hollis, Maine, 190. Hopkins house, Walter Scott, 223-230. age, 223. attic, 230. closets, 226, 227, 229. dining-room, 227, 228. grounds, 224, 225. hardware, 227, 229. lighting, 227. living-rooms, 224, 226, 227. location, 223 parlor, 229. remodeling, 223-230. type, 223. Hopkinton, New Hampshire, 76. Howard, Philip B., 42. Hunt, William H., 153. Ingraham, George Hunt, 8. Inches, Doctor Charles E., 127. Inches house, Charles E., 127-135. age, 127. den, 131. dining-room, 133. furnishings, 131, 132, 133, 134, 135. gardens, 129. grounds, 129, 134, 135. living-room, 132. location, 127. remodeling, 130-134. swimming-pool, 129. value, 128. whipping-tree, 128. Ipswich, Massachusetts, 169. Iristhorpe, 6-14. age, 6. architectural treatment, 13. guest house, 14. iris motive, 9. lines, 8, 14. location, 6. remodeling, 8-13. Jewett house, see LIMOVODY. Josephine, Empress, 235. Kelly, William, 77. Killam and Hopkins (Architects), 64. Kimball, Mrs. William Otis, 20. Kitchens, 10, 36, 44, 50, 95, 98, 108, 130, 148, 204, 239, 250, 253. Kittredge, Mabel L., 33. Kittredge house, 33-37. chimney, 36, 37. furnishings, 37. lines, 34. location, 33. remodeling, 34-36. size, 33. Knockers, 178. Lafayette, General, 153. Latches, 12, 48, 55, 177, 179, 184, 185. Lavatories, 10, 185. Lean-to, Dutch, 18. Libraries, 10, 12, 22, 46, 104, 252. Lighting, 103. candles, 48, 109. electric, 48. lamps, 48, 109. lanterns, 192, 196, 251. Limovady, 18-27. age, 18. bedrooms, 25, 26. lines, 20. location, 18. lounge room, 25. Missionary room, 24. "priest hole," 23. remodeling, 19-26. studio, 24. Lincoln, Roland C., 149. Mrs. Roland C., 152. Little Orchard, 149-154. age, 150. china, 152. fireplace, 153. furnishings, 152, 153. location, 149. name, 152. remodeling, 150-154. staircase, 151. Living-rooms, 10, 11, 21, 22, 34, 45, 55, 58, 67, 81, 94, 95, 103, 107, 119, 132, 153, 184, 194, 203, 204, 205, 214, 215, 226, 237, 251. outdoor, 8, 9, 12, 21, 44, 68, 79, 118, 139, 142, 144, 151, 171, 224. Loeffler, Charles Martin, 137, 138, 142, 144. Loeffler house, 136-146. atmosphere, 141, 145. grounds, 140, 141. location, 136, 138, 143. music room, 144. remodeling, 139-144. Loggia, 213. Londonderry, New Hampshire, 76, 77. Lone Tree Farm, 211-219. age, 211. dining-room, 217. furnishings, 215-219. grounds, 214. living-room, 215. location, 212. sitting-room, 218. smoke-house, 214, 215. remodeling, 214-219. vistas, 216, 217. wing, 212. Magnolia, Massachusetts, 149. Manchester-by-the-Sea, Massachusetts, 149. Mantels, 157, 216, 217, 241. Medfield, Massachusetts, 116, 127. Morning-rooms, 10, 12, 44, 175, 204, 205. Music-rooms, 144, 196, 239. Nawn Farm, 65-70. alterations, 66-70. chimney, 70. dining-room, 68. living-room, 67. location, 65, 66. windows, 66, 70. Needham, Massachusetts, 247. Newburyport, Massachusetts, 21. New York City, 105. North Duxbury, Massachusetts, 201. Nurseries, 121, 186. Office, 230. Out-buildings, 7, 91, 99, 138. Ovens, brick, 11, 12, 82, 127, 131, 181, 217, 229. Dutch, 24. Overmantel, 22. Paint, 9, 21, 42, 45, 134, 140, 161, 191, 202, 203, 214, 224, 243-247. Paneling, 12, 23, 55, 58, 94, 95, 120, 130, 154, 162, 207, 217, 219, 221, 222, 226. Japanese, 13. Parlors, 50, 80, 105, 163, 229, 250. sun, 216, 236. Partitions, 148. removal of, 20, 34, 46, 52, 54, 82, 102, 103, 203, 204. Pergolas, 123, 140, 203, 207. Pewter, 46, 57, 131. Piazza, see PORCHES. Plate-rail, 107. Porch columns, 44, 73, 78, 79, 92, 111, 112, 114, 117, 224. Porches, 3, 34, 40, 42, 47, 79, 93, 103, 106, 111-116, 117, 138, 139, 150, 161, 170, 183, 184, 192, 202, 212, 213, 224, 236, 249. Colonial, 8, 44, 92, 204, 214. Georgian, 73, 78, 111, 112. sleeping, 40, 44, 47, 59, 67, 79, 110, 115, 117, 140, 213, 214. types of, 112. Porch railings, 114. Portico, 117. Putnam, John Pickering, 122. Quillcote, 190-197. barn, 196, 197. china, 195, 196. furnishings, 193, 194, 196. location, 190. type, 190. wall-papers, 193, 194. Quincy, Massachusetts, 128. Radiators, 64. Reading, Massachusetts, 180, 223. Reception-rooms, 56, 104, 153, 173, 174. Registers, 59. Revolution, American, 6, 29, 50, 156. French, 234. Roofs, 19, 29, 31, 34, 38-40, 43, 44, 66, 91, 113, 148, 190, 224, 226. flat, 44. gambrel, 38, 149, 181. hipped, 39. overhang, 41, 75. pitched (gable), 6, 38, 44, 91, 105, 139, 202, 237. Rugs, Arts and Crafts, 24. fur, 194. modern, 217. Oriental, 55, 200, 201, 205, 227. rag, 46, 48, 59, 108, 134, 162, 192, 200, 201, 205, 240. Salem, Massachusetts, 150, 235. Saugus, Massachusetts, 126. Screen, Japanese, 13. Servants' rooms, 11, 43, 47, 83, 108, 134, 225. Service departments, 10, 11, 43, 59, 69, 78, 103, 116, 121, 171, 175, 191, 206. Serving-room, 249. Shaw, Mrs. Josephine Hartwell, 89, 98. Shingles, 41, 91, 106, 149, 243, 245. Shrewsbury, Massachusetts, 6, 134, 149. Shrubbery, 167, 168, 213, 224, 248. Shutters, see BLINDS. Sill, 30. Sitting-room, 218. Sleeping-porches, see PORCHES. Smith, Nora, 195. South Dennis, Massachusetts, 105. South Yarmouth, Massachusetts, 33, 105. Spencer, Robert, 105. Spencer house, 105-109. fence, 106. furniture, 108, 109. lighting, 109. location, 105. new wing, 105, 106. windows, 106. Staircases, 4, 10, 23, 45, 50, 51, 68, 80, 93, 107, 118, 132, 136, 142, 151, 153, 184, 192, 214, 251. Stoves, 63. Stud, 30, 66, 106, 117. low, 13, 44, 52, 56, 102, 152, 154, 205, 239. Three Acres, 88-99. living-room, 95. location, 88, 89. restoration, 90-99. studio, 98. type, 91. vistas, 96. windows, 92, 97. Tiles, 125. "Tired of Work" (picture), 153. Trees, 4, 15, 18, 19, 42, 78, 88, 91, 105, 123, 127, 128, 129, 134, 140, 141, 144, 150, 167, 212, 213, 236, 248. Verandas, see PORCHES. Wainscot, 22, 35, 46, 55, 57, 80, 81, 118, 120, 130, 143, 155-157, 163, 173, 192, 221, 226, 238, 241, 251, 252. Wakefield, F. M., 42. Walls, 29, 41, 46, 47, 67, 69, 83, 96, 130, 133, 148, 155-157, 173, 215. burlap, 23, 45. exterior, 40, 41. grass-cloth, 47, 67, 143. painted, 21, 24, 25, 35, 68. papered, 23, 45, 48, 55, 56, 57, 59, 69, 81, 83, 119, 122, 163, 227, 228. plastered, 36, 107, 156. sheathed, 144, 155. stone, 128, 140, 149, 182, 212, 224. tapestry, 252. Wall-papers, 3, 20, 23, 48, 80, 97, 132, 188-190. castellated, 237. Colonial, 46, 82, 172, 184, 188, 196, 241. foliage, 81. Georgian, 55. Japanese, 97. landscape, 21, 57, 59, 119, 164, 175, 193, 194, 251. Morris, 151, 152. Wall-papers, Mother Goose, 121. Walpole, Massachusetts, 127. Water supply, 17, 204. Webster, Daniel, 77. White house (Salem), 150. Wiggin, Kate Douglas, 190, 197. Willowdale, 158-165. additions, 161. age, 158. dining-room, 162. garden, 160. lines, 159. location, 158. parlor, 163. tree, 162. woodwork, 165. Window casings, 74. muntins, 73, 74. Windows, 6, 9, 34, 35, 52, 58, 66, 73, 78, 102, 119, 141, 148, 154, 218, 226. bay, 92, 224, 250, 252. casement, 74, 93, 94, 97, 193. dormer, 8, 34, 36, 40, 54, 92, 97, 106, 115, 154, 161, 171, 213, 224, 248. eyebrow, 212. French, 102, 143, 145, 163, 172, 174, 206. gable, 104. oval, 44, 112. small-paned, 24, 34, 74, 132, 228, 236, 251. triple, 45, 69, 82, 107. Window-seats, 36, 58, 67, 119, 153, 194, 216, 218, 250. Wings, see ELLS. Wood, cypress, 41. gum, 67. hemlock, 98. oak, 155, 199, 200. fumed, 68. swamp, 21, 125. pine, hard, 200. North Carolina, 68, 199. pumpkin, 4, 158. swamp, 23. white, 2, 7, 41, 156. Woodwork, 3, 4, 7, 11, 12, 13, 22, 23, 24, 25, 35, 45, 46, 48, 55, 56, 58, 59, 68, 80, 82, 95, 107, 120, 121, 122, 131, 142, 155-158, 165, 184, 192, 215, 219, 226, 227, 228. Worcester, Massachusetts, 5. Wren, Sir Christopher, 146. Wright, Henry W., 236. Wright house, 236-241. furniture, 237-241. lighting, 238, 240. location, 236. remodeling, 236-240. type, 236, 237. 
60658	----	OLD HOUSES IN HOLLAND TEXT AND ILLUSTRATIONS BY SYDNEY R. JONES, WITH SOME ADDITIONAL PLATES IN COLOUR AFTER OTHER ARTISTS Edited by Charles Holme. MCMXIII "THE STUDIO" LTD. LONDON, PARIS, NEW YORK PREFATORY NOTE The Editor desires to express his indebtedness to the following, who have rendered valuable assistance in the preparation of this volume: Mr. A. Pit, Director of the Nederlandsch Museum voor Geschiedenis en Kunst, and other officials of the Rijks Museum, Amsterdam; Messrs. P. C. J. A. Boeles and D. Draaisma, of the Friesch Museum, Leeuwarden; Dr. B. van Rijswijk, Secretary of the Vereeniging Oud-Dordrecht; Mr. W. Polman Kruseman, Secretary of the Zeeuwsch Genootschap der Wetenschappen, Middelburg; and the Directors of the British Museum, the Victoria and Albert Museum, the National Gallery, and the Wallace Collection, London. ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR After-- Pieter de Hooch "Interior of a Dutch House" Frontispiece ,, ,, ,, "Interior with Woman peeling Apples" Opposite page 16 ,, ,, ,, "Dutch Interior" ,, ,, 44 Johannes Vermeer "The Letter" ,, ,, 66 Catherine Bisschop-Swift "The Mirror" ,, ,, 80 Sydney R. Jones "Nijmegen, Gelderland" ,, ,, 98 Baron J. A. Hendrik Leys "Seventeenth-Century Dutch Interior" ,, ,, 130 Sydney R. Jones "Hindeloopen Room at the Frisian Museum, Leeuwarden" ,, ,, 140 Enamelled Earthenware Tiles (early 18th century) Opposite pages 136 & 138 Delft Dishes (18th century) ,, ,, 144 & 146 CONTENTS. PAGE Introduction 1 Illustrations:-- Breda, North Brabant 5 Monnikendam, North Holland 7 Veere, Zeeland 9 Nijmegen, Gelderland (dated 1544) 11 Dordrecht, South Holland 13 Leiden, Rhijnland (dated 1612) 15 Haarlem, North Holland 17 Brigdamme, Zeeland 18 I.--The Development of Domestic Architecture 19 Illustrations:-- Groningen (1509) 21 Boxmeer, North Brabant 22 Gorinchem (Gorcum), South Holland 23 Breda, North Brabant 24 Middelburg, Zeeland 25 Franeker, Friesland 26 Dordrecht, South Holland 27 Dordrecht (dated 1702) 28 Haarlem, North Holland 29 Spaarwoude, North Holland 30 St. Laurens, near Middelburg, Zeeland 31 Haarlem, North Holland 32 Alkmaar, North Holland (dated 1609) 33 Hoorn, North Holland (dated 1612) 34 Middelburg, Zeeland 35 Hoorn, North Holland 36 ,, ,, ,, 37 Woudrichem, North Brabant 38 Leiden, Rhijnland 39 Middelburg, Zeeland 40 Nijmegen, Gelderland (dated 1606) 41 Zutphen, Gelderland 42 ,, ,, (dated 1547) 43 Veere, Zeeland 44 Haarlem, North Holland 45 Delft, South Holland 46 Haarlem, North Holland (dated 1637) 47 Alkmaar, North Holland (dated 1673) 48 Franeker, Friesland (dated 1634) 49 Corbel from Dordrecht 50 Mosaic brick and stonework from Dordrecht 50 Dordrecht, South Holland (dated 1608) 51 Workum, Friesland (dated 1663) 52 Arnhem, Gelderland (dated 1642) 53 Amsterdam--Rembrandt's House (dated 1606) 54 Zwolle, Overijssel--The Guild Hall (dated 1571) 55 Vlissingen (Flushing), Zeeland (dated 1614) 56 Dordrecht, South Holland (dated 1626) 57 Kampen, Overijssel (dated 1631) 58 ,, ,, (dated on dormers 1634, 1626, 1730, 1630 and 1619) 59 Groningen--The "Goudkantoor" (dated 1635) 60 Groningen (1661) 61 Franeker, Friesland (dated 1662) 62 's Hertogenbosch, North Brabant (dated 1671) 63 Iron Wall-tie from Alkmaar 64 Alkmaar, North Holland (dated 1672) 65 's Gravenhage (The Hague), South Holland--"T'Goutsmits Keur Huijs" 66 Velsen, North Holland 67 Spaarwoude, North Holland 68 Zutphen, Gelderland 69 Halfweg, North Holland 70 ,, ,, ,, --showing construction of farmhouse 70 Spaarndam, North Holland 71 Schooten, North Holland 72 The Ferry House, near Gennep, North Brabant 73 Beek, Gelderland 74 Brigdamme, Zeeland (dated 1622) 75 Beek, Gelderland 76 Bloemendaal, North Holland 77 Broek, North Holland 78 ,, ,, ,, 79 Well at Beugen, North Brabant 80 Beek, Gelderland 81 Bridge at Zuiderwoude, North Holland (dated 1799) 82 II.--Exterior Features--Doors, Windows, Gables and Ornaments 83 Illustrations:-- Woudrichem, North Brabant (dated 1611) 85 Leeuwarden, Friesland 86 Delft, South Holland 87 ,, ,, ,, (dated 1547) 88 Haarlem, North Holland (dated 1632) 89 Leeuwarden, Friesland (dated 1675) 89 Leiden, Rhijnland (dated 1612) 89 ,, ,, (dated 1615) 90 Vlissingen (Flushing), Zeeland 91 Marssum, Friesland (dated 1713) 92 Kampen, Overijssel (dated 1665) 93 Arnhem, Gelderland 94 Wooden Door, with iron fittings, from Dordrecht 95 ,, ,, with carved lintel, from Haarlem 95 Leiden, Rhijnland (dated 1655) 96 Veere, Zeeland--The "Scotch House" 97 Wooden Window-frame, with iron fittings and lead glazing, from Dordrecht 98 Window Shutter from Velsen 98 ,, ,, ,, Nijmegen 99 ,, ,, ,, Leiden 99 ,, ,, ,, Dordrecht 99 ,, ,, ,, Haarlem 100 ,, ,, ,, Monnikendam 100 Zwolle, Overijssel 101 Kampen, Overijssel (dated 1626) 102 ,, ,, (dated 1634) 102 Marssum, Friesland 102 Gorinchem (Gorcum), South Holland (dated 1566) 103 Kampen, Overijssel 104 Vlissingen (Flushing), Zeeland 105 Monnikendam, North Holland 106 Haarlem, North Holland 106 Dordrecht, South Holland (dated 1523) 107 Arnhem, Gelderland 108 Haarlem, North Holland 109 Leiden, Rhijnland 109 Amsterdam, North Holland 110 Wood details from Gelderland and South Holland 111 Zutphen, Gelderland 112 Hoorn, North Holland 112 Franeker, Friesland (curved gables dated 1573) 113 Carved stone lettering from Haarlem 114 ,, ,, panel from Franeker 114 ,, ,, ,, ,, Zutphen (dated 1615) 115 ,, ,, ,, ,, Sneek 115 ,, ,, ,, ,, Haarlem 115 ,, ,, ,, ,, Workum 115 ,, ,, ,, ,, Middelburg (house dated 1590) 116 ,, ,, ,, ,, Haarlem 116 Woudrichem, North Brabant 117 Brick and Stone Mosaic from Zwolle 118 ,, ,, ,, ,, Nijmegen 118 ,, ,, ,, ,, Woudrichem 118 Zwolle, Overijssel (dated 1609) 119 Detail of Diaper-work from Franeker 120 Workum, Friesland 120 Iron Wall-ties 121 ,, Date-sign from St. Anna, near Nijmegen 122 ,, Wall-tie from Nijmegen 122 ,, Weather-vane from Broek 122 ,, Terminal from Middelburg 122 Lead Spout-heads from Zutphen 122 Oval Window with Stanchion-bar, from Leiden 122 Iron Wall-tie from Beugen 122 ,, Door-furniture from Middelburg 123 ,, Door-knocker 123 ,, Weather-vane from Hees 124 Lead Finials from Hoorn 124 III.--Interiors and Decoration 125 Illustrations:-- Brass Candelabrum from Haarlem 127 Seventeenth-century Room from Dordrecht, South Holland 128 ,, ,, ,, Leeuwarden, Friesland 129 Fireplace in the Bricklayers' Guild, Amsterdam 130 ,, from Maastricht, Limburg (dated 1510) 131 Cast-iron Fireback from Leiden 132 Cast-iron Fireback from Nijmegen 132 Fireplace from Middelburg, Zeeland 133 Cast-iron Fireback from Middelburg 134 ,, ,, ,, Jisp 134 Fireplace from The Westerwold, Groningen 135 Interior of a wooden house at Marken, North Holland 136 Brass Chimney-crane from Leeuwarden 136 Hindeloopen Room at the Frisian Museum, Leeuwarden 137 Carved Oak Panel from Zwolle (16th century) 138 Iron Hangers, Fire-irons and Fire-standard 139 Oak Panelling from Leiden 140 Hindeloopen Room at the Frisian Museum, Leeuwarden 141 Carved Door from Groningen (17th century) 142 Iron Lock-plate (16th century) 143 ,, ,, (dated 1587) 143 ,, Lock and Bolt 143 ,, Door-handle and Escutcheon 143 Carved Door of Wall-cupboard, with pierced and engraved iron fittings 143 Wall-cupboard with iron lock and hinges (16th century) 144 Carved Table from Edam 145 ,, Cabinet from Haarlem 145 Table from Amsterdam 146 Wrought-iron Stair-Railing from Zierikzee 146 Brass Warming-pan (dated 1602) 147 Wickerwork Coffer with brass mounts (18th century) 147 Brass Fire-side set (18th century) 147 ,, Candlestick ( ,, ,, ) 148 ,, Tea-caddy ( ,, ,, ) 148 ,, Pastille-burner 148 ,, Foot-warmer (dated 1733) 148 ,, Lantern (18th century) 148 Corridor in "St. Pietershofje," Hoorn, North Holland 149 Tiled Fireplace from Volendam, North Holland 150 ,, ,, ,, Marken, North Holland 151 Interior of a wooden house at Marken, North Holland 152 INTRODUCTION It is in the old towns of Holland that the architectural expression of the Dutch people is to be sought. Theirs was an intimate and human architecture, concerned with everyday events, and it developed out of the civil and domestic life. Many of the towns continue to be busy and prosperous, and new buildings here and there crowd in upon the picturesque groups of houses that for centuries have clustered round the great churches and market-places: in others, the active days of commerce are over, the merchants come no more, and the streets and waterways are quiet. But all Dutch towns having any pretension to age possess, to a wonderful degree, what may be termed an old-world atmosphere. Much of their charm, it is true, is due to the rivers and canals that encircle and intersect them in all directions, imparting a sense of quaintness and novelty; but it is the extraordinary number of old buildings still existing, unchanged in form since the days when they were erected and mellowed by ages of sun and rain, that ever appeal to the eye and imagination. The fantastic gables and red roofs, above which rise slender spires and belfries surmounted by leaden flèches and wrought vanes, together with the waterways and canal life, the windmills, and changing skies, are as characteristic now as when the masters of the great Dutch School of painting were living and working. Such scenes were to them inspiration; to picture the intimate events associated was their delight. If the painters have gone--and with them the arquebusiers and governors and burgomasters--the gables, the sunlit courts, and many other familiar features remain. The peculiar geographical conditions that have always existed in Holland have affected in no small degree the development of the land and the temperament of the people. Most of the country is below sea level. Behind the dunes and dykes the sea threatens inundation; the fear of accident by flood has kept the nation watchful and in perpetual war with its ancient enemy. The influence of this natural check has been far-reaching. It has produced the system of canals, determined the character of the landscape, made accordant life and work, method, regularity and order, and brought philosophy and fortitude to the national mind. In the domain of building, as in other spheres, water has been a powerful underlying agent affecting the evolution of style, just as the mountains, forests and deserts of other countries have imparted distinction to architecture. Side by side with the external conditions imposed by Nature, conditions that, if accepted, might well be expected to have produced an attitude of extreme lack of initiative in those living amongst them, the Dutch have ever been an enterprising people. The same spirit that defied and conquered the inroads of the sea characterised their dealings in the domain of commerce. Trade was to them the great business of life. From very early times, and continuing for a long period, the prosperity of the Low Countries was foremost in Europe. The towns became centres of busy and pulsative life, the homes of virile civil and domestic communities. Many old buildings still existing, town halls, weigh houses, trade and guild halls, warehouses and merchants' premises, bear witness to those strenuous days. An architecture in close touch with the events of the times developed through, and by reason of the successes achieved by industry and sustained advances of conquest and colonization. The phase of domestic art which is reviewed in this volume was essentially the expression of a nation urgently concerned with the material, matter-of-fact side of everyday life, and bore close kindred to its needs, its aspirations and its achievements; it was corporeal rather than spiritual in aspect, reflective of the market-place, the fireside and the home. And while the continuous building tradition of certain other countries was allied to ecclesiasticism, or was a movement instigated by the aristocracy, in Holland it was democratic in general trend, an art bound up in the interests of the people and existing for their good and welfare. It was urban rather than rural in its principles. Unlike the English growth, where the native building art developed vigorously and lingered longest in the countryside--as many an old village, manor-house or farm will demonstrate--the equivalent vernacular Dutch development was pre-eminently of the towns, and trade was the influence that gave it life. In a country notable for its manufactures and commercial activities men congregated together for mutual gain. A sturdy race they were, unimpressionable, but kindly and charitable, and their comfortable homes were in keeping with their temperament. To better appreciate the course of architectural development, it will be well to briefly cite the main circumstances connected with these towns and with the country's history. Records of Dutch towns prior to the twelfth century are scanty, although at that time orderly government had begun to develop. Then followed the municipal charters, many dating from the thirteenth century. These charters were granted by the feudal lords to the townspeople and secured to them certain rights and protection in return for taxation and levies; justice was administered by various governing bodies and magistrates, and the municipal finances were properly supervised. There thus grew up a strong communal movement which was steadily developed and strengthened. Then it was that the cities began their era of great prosperity and each became practically self-governing and semi-independent. Revenue was derived from the river commerce and markets, over-sea trading, and from the industries which were fostered. So powerful did they become, so energetic was their municipal life, so well organised their trade, that these cities came to be reckoned, together with the neighbouring towns of Flanders, the most prosperous and wealthy in the world. As time went on the chief cities became members of the Hanseatic League, which influential association embraced trading colonies in places as far apart as London, Visby on the island of Gotland, Novgorod the Great in Russia, Hamburg, Amsterdam and Kampen on the Zuider Zee. Through the impetus of this remarkable movement, the long-continued commercial relations between England and Holland were established. About the middle of the thirteenth century Hanse merchants settled in London, obtained privileges from Henry III., founded the Steelyard, and there developed a flourishing trade. The intercourse between the two countries was very considerable, and it was of the utmost importance to the Netherlands that nothing should happen to weaken their good relations with England. For England was then the principal wool-producing country of Europe, the only place, in fact, able to supply it in large quantities, and the men of the Low Countries, famed above all for their skill as weavers and depending upon the woollen industry for their greatest wealth, were eager buyers of English wool in the raw state. In the fifteenth century, through dissension and war, the cities of Holland were ejected from the Hanseatic League; but the Dutch, with their fine ships and business acumen, continued to prosper and carried their conquests by trade into far-distant lands. It was while at the height of their material success that the provinces of Holland came under the dominion of the house of Burgundy. The peculiar independent constitution of the cities promoted rivalry between them, rather than a common national interest which would have been best for the preservation of their just rights. They were heavily taxed and oppressed and were continually at variance with the ruling power, fighting for the redress of their grievances. By the first half of the sixteenth century the kingdom of the Netherlands had passed to the Emperor Charles V., King of Spain, and Philip, his son, inherited his father's throne. He thereby became monarch of vast territories. Philip determined to utterly subjugate the provinces and carried out a policy of relentless persecution. The people rebelled, brutal punishment followed, and they became victims of the worst excesses of the Inquisition. Deeds of cruelty, tyranny and murder, almost unparalleled in history, were enacted. In those dark days arose that great champion of the people, "William the Silent," Prince of Orange, the "father of his fatherland." Intent on defending the liberties of the nation, he gathered around him a company of gallant spirits, and, principally at his own expense, commenced what at first appeared to be a hopeless struggle. But early victories, hardly won, roused a cowed populace to action. The nation embarked upon the memorable Eighty Years' War, which resulted in the Spanish yoke being overthrown and the founding of the Dutch Republic. William was basely assassinated at Delft in 1584, and Maurice, his second son, succeeded him as Stadtholder. He was ambitious, shrewd, and skilled in the arts of war, and under his rule, and that of his brother Frederick Henry, who succeeded him in 1625, the fortunes of the Dutch gradually rose high. Through times of trial and suffering, hardships endured and conquests won, they emerged valorous and strong, a nation of heroes. Triumphs of arms by land and sea, successes of the merchant fleets and navigators who explored remote parts of the world, the founding of colonies, and ingenuity on the part of the workers in home manufactures, characterised a notable period of great prosperity; the Dutch became supreme in trade, chief rulers of the sea, and accumulated vast wealth. As the seventeenth century advanced commercial welfare continued to increase. Admirals Tromp and De Ruyter swept the seas, gaining brilliant naval victories; in 1667 the safety of London itself was threatened by the appearance of the Dutch fleet in the Thames. But the mastery of the sea eventually passed to England and from that time the fortunes of the Dutch declined. The election of William III.--who had married Princess Mary, daughter of the Duke of York--to the English throne in 1689 marked the close of Holland's greatest days. Early Dutch secular architecture is in the spirit of the late Gothic style. The most valuable monuments of that period are the civic buildings which herald a time when public life--as opposed to ecclesiastical--assumed an importance and dignity capable of being symbolized in brick and stone; when power acquired by trade found expression in its own distinctive forms, and the wealthy burghers of the towns erected municipal buildings which stand for all time as the embodiment of their ideals. Such is the Town Hall at Middelburg by Ant. Keldermans the Younger, one of that famous family of architects of Malines. It is a stone erection of fine proportions, enriched with a wealth of detail, sculptured figures, sunk panelling and many turrets; tiers of dormers break up the roof surface and the whole is surmounted by a noble and boldly conceived tower. At Veere, not far distant, is a smaller example (opposite) built in 1474 by another member of the Keldermans family. While owning some similarity to its fellow at Middelburg, the treatment is simpler, but the proportions are exquisite, and the peculiar grace of the belfry is outstanding. The characteristic richness of surface decoration which was then common may also be seen on the sandstone façade of the "Gemeenlandshuis" at Delft, with its elaborate traceries and parapet belonging to the early sixteenth century. The aforementioned are stone buildings and betray the influence of French Gothic, but the especially individual Netherlandish interpretation of Gothic was developed in the brick architecture. Brickwork was much employed and the nature of the material--not so responsive as stone in the hands of the craftsmen--limited the possibilities of ornamental treatment. Detail had to be simplified and adapted to the means available for carrying it out; the example from Nijmegen (p. 11), dated 1544, furnishes an instance of how it was handled. It is in this early brickwork that the germs of the Dutch transitional Renaissance style are to be traced; its root principles were derived not only from the public buildings, but from the churches also--vast piles whose bold masses and ornaments were logically developed out of the material, and whose millions of little bricks, jointed together, stand as impressive memorials of patient labour. Mediæval domestic work followed in the wake of the civic. Not many examples remain. Of those that have survived most belong to the late fifteenth or the first half of the sixteenth century. The current forms of the period were employed--panelling and projecting surface decoration, more often in brickwork than stone; arched window-heads ornamented with tracery; circular brick turrets surmounted by conical roofs; stepped gables having pinnacles rising from the copings; steep roofs pierced by dormers; and the somewhat florid, rich, but carefully wrought detail. In contrast to the scarcity of Gothic domestic buildings, those of the Transitional period--from Gothic to Renaissance--are very numerous. Many examples are to be found in the old towns where rows of houses, much out of the perpendicular, rise from the canalsides and paved roadways. They are narrow and very high and are surmounted by gables which are often of fantastic shape and curious outline, picturesque from the draughtsman's point of view and full of subject for the painter. Strange though it now seems, and quite beyond reasonable explanation, the greatest art movement that Holland has ever known flourished at the close of those troublous times when she was at war with Spain. It was then that the painters, with startling suddenness, came into their full powers, and Hals, Rembrandt, Van der Helst, Gerard Dou, Paul Potter, Jan Steen, Ruysdael and De Hooch, with a host of brilliant companions, followed in quick succession. They created a new art, a school of painting with original conceptive views and unrivalled executive skill. Contemporaneously with this artistic activity developed the peculiarly specific Dutch style of domestic architecture. Existing examples prove how energetically the building craft was then carried on, and show how its characteristics were matured during the closing years of the sixteenth century and onwards through the century following. Many of the Town Halls and Weigh Houses, which set the fashion for the private dwellings, are of this time; Leiden 1598, Haarlem 1602, Nijmegen 1612, Bolsward 1614, Workum 1650, and numerous others. It was in the sixteenth century that the influence of the Renaissance gained ground in Holland, and with it came new canons and new impulses, revived interest in classical literature and art. And in connection with it, it is significant to note that Erasmus, one of the most distinguished of the Humanists, was born at Rotterdam in 1466; during a life of much travel and varied residence he was often in the Low Countries, prosecuting his own self-culture and advocating his doctrines. The Transitional period lasted long and the buildings associated with it in many ways resemble those of England, erected in the style known as Elizabethan. The real significance of the revolutionary Renaissance art was not grasped or understood. The Gothic form of house long held its own and to it was added the heavy Dutch interpretation of the newer style, a rendering showing French rather than Italian feeling. But nevertheless, however well or ill applied, the use of Classic motifs in architecture became a firmly-established and general practice. But the great changes in religious and intellectual thought that transpired during the sixteenth century did not so quickly influence the domain of architecture as might be supposed. No sudden breach with the inherited style occurred, although the ancient life and faith were passing. The Gothic tradition, which had been handed down from generation to generation, continued on. The national temperament was opposed to innovation, and the Dutch people clung to that which had been evolved through long years of experiment; they were unwilling to give up those forms that had been satisfying to their forefathers. So the new fashion in architecture was at first but tardily accepted and made little headway against the olden practices. Early tentative efforts were confined to novelties of detail introduced in gable ornaments, window-heads and doorways; the traditional forms of building remained unaltered, and fresh types of ornament were simply added to them for no very definite or intelligent reason. As time went on the Renaissance influence gradually became more established, but there was evidently no unanimity of opinion on the merits of it. Some looked upon it with favour; others viewed it with suspicion and preferred to keep to that which had served so well for preceding generations. As a consequence, the development was not uniform throughout the country. Thus a house at Alkmaar, bearing the late date of 1673, has arched window-heads and step gable terminated with a pointed arch quite in the Gothic manner; while a façade erected at Zwolle one hundred and two years earlier unmistakably betrays its Classic origin by the details with which it is adorned. After a changeful period, during which the architectural impulses were halting between the acceptance of the new and the retention of the old, men who directed public taste eventually adopted what they understood to be the Renaissance ideas. Behind them was a strong tide of inherited tradition which continued to flow on. To it they brought their own interpretation of the new movement, and the two forces ran side by side for many years. Foremost among the earlier architects who turned to classicism for fresh inspiration were Lieven de Key, Hendrik de Keyzer and Cornelius Danckerts. Hendrik de Keyzer was born at Utrecht in 1565 and died at Amsterdam in 1621. He was appointed architect to the city of Amsterdam in 1594, and his name is connected with buildings both in that town and elsewhere. One of his most notable works is the monument erected at Delft to the memory of William the Silent. Cornelius Danckerts was associated with de Keyzer and lived from 1561 to 1631. Born at Ghent about the year 1560, Lieven de Key worked principally at Haarlem and Leiden. He was the author of the celebrated Meat Market at Haarlem, a remarkable building which has evoked both praise and disparagement; it was completed in 1603. He was responsible for the design of other civic buildings as well as numerous private dwellings. Such men as these had their followers and founded schools of architecture in the places of their professional activities. There was thus a vigorous body of men working at Haarlem; while Amsterdam, which had become virtually the political and commercial capital as well as the centre of the arts, had its own assembly of architects who were particularly energetic in the city and exercised great influence in the adjacent districts. The results of their accomplishments are still apparent, and the many large and sober gabled houses suggest to the imagination the comparative splendour of seventeenth-century Amsterdam. The buildings of this period are quaint and charming. If somewhat lacking in serious architectonic qualities, they are inseparably connected with the national sentiments; they stand as lasting evidences of human emotion expressed through the medium of brick and stone. The streets lined with ancient houses are witnesses of a great past, and bring to remembrance those strong and earnest men who honoured hearth and threshold and fought to save their fatherland from tyranny and threatened ruin. Above all, the structures bear upon them the impress of the intellectual life which was concerned with their production. The work itself is thoroughly Dutch in character, full of suggestion, and the materials are well handled. That of the early Renaissance is the best, and in it the two streams of thought--mediæval and classic--are seen harmoniously blended. A good example from Leiden, by Lieven de Key, is illustrated opposite; signs of the new influence are obvious in the details, yet it has the traditional form of stepped gable; while there is a freedom of handling discernible in the disposition of the ground floor features which was dictated by convenience rather than symmetrical arrangement. All the work, however, was not so reasonable as this. Gables of extraordinary and curious outline began to appear, remarkable certainly for fertility of invention, but often lacking in delicacy and restraint. Isolated stone ornaments, unconnected with constructive principles, were applied to vacant wall spaces. They were decorated with lion-heads, armorial bearings, strapwork, cartouches, winged heads and panels in relief, all vigorously carved. Many of the subjects were seemingly derived from published pattern books and decorative designs, and lack that independence of conception which distinguishes all inspired craftsmanship. Evidence goes to prove that the men who made the designs for the buildings had not yet become detached from the building trades. They were not architects within the present meaning of that term. They were described as masons, stonecutters, and the like, and no doubt were master-builders who, in addition to supplying the design, had a personal hand in the execution of the work of their own particular craft. The idea that a trained director should conceive the work as a whole, and marshal all the supplementary arts to proper subjugation, had not yet been evolved. Architecture as a separate force was not recognised. Results automatically grew out of the united efforts of the sculptors, bricklayers, carpenters and masons who were engaged on the same production. So de Key, in addition to acting as a designer, was the city mason of Haarlem; H. de Keyzer was sculptor to the city of Amsterdam; and these are typical instances of the conditions then prevailing. It is also not surprising to find in this country, where government by municipalities was so well developed, that the architects were often official servants of the towns. Two such are mentioned above; Dryfhout was town architect of Middelburg, and Ambrosius van Hanenberch held a similar position at 's Hertogenbosch. [1] The demand for qualified men to protect and guide the public artistic needs was appreciated, a wise and excellent practice from which present-day authorities in England might well take a lesson. With the advancing seventeenth century came a keener desire for the employment of purer forms of Renaissance art. Architects turned their thoughts to the Italian ideal, which they modified, yet preserved in its essential characteristics. Chief among the exponents of the developed style were Jacob van Campen and Phillippus Vinckboons, both of Amsterdam; and Pieter Post of Haarlem. The massive Town Hall of Amsterdam--now the Royal Palace--by van Campen, is one of the most important buildings of this period. It was erected between the years 1648 and 1655. But the severe classic ideas, directing towards uniformity and symmetrical arrangements, were never really at home, nor did they displace the weakening influence of inherited tradition. In the general mass of work the Dutch national genius continued to assert itself. Up to the time when the native architecture became devoid of character and personality, the houses and trade buildings in which the people lived and worked--even if of strange appearance or sometimes fantastic beyond description--retained an unmistakable flavour of the vernacular and owned something of that playfulness and quaint invention that were the heritage of mediæval times. It is fitting to conclude this Introduction by referring to the effect of Dutch upon English architecture. For our style of domestic building has in the past owed something to knowledge gained from the Low Countries; details have been derived from the Dutch and their practices adopted. Most obviously the influence is to be seen in the Eastern counties, although it penetrated more or less throughout the country; Staffordshire can show it as well as Norfolk, Wiltshire as well as Kent. To those men of the Netherlands who early engaged in English commerce the germs of this influence are to be traced. Not that many of these foreigners were actively connected with the building trades, but, during a long period of trading intercourse and settlement by merchants and artisans, they, as a matter of course, left distinct impressions of their own ideas. Onward from the fourteenth century the influx of Flemings and Dutchmen into England was considerable and the reasons for their coming various. Apart from the traders, skilled artisans were encouraged to settle for the purpose of improving the home manufactures. Oppression, too, was responsible for many immigrants; to cite an instance, thousands of people left Holland when the harsh Duke of Alva, acting for Philip of Spain, was in 1567 appointed commander of the forces, and numbers of them found refuge in England. But the presence of foreigners such as these, most of whom were not engaged in the building crafts, had only an indirect effect upon the local architecture. It was the imported artificers, coming from Germany as well as the Netherlands, who brought a new development to English building. "Throughout the reign of Elizabeth," writes Professor Blomfield, "their influence was in the air and predominant." The results of it are obvious in work then erected, notably in the long series of country houses with strapwork ornament, peculiar decoration of porches and fireplaces, and much patterned woodwork. Again, with the advent of Dutch William to the English throne, further new features were introduced and they are especially traceable in the admirable brickwork of the Queen Anne style. But the lasting and altogether good effect of Dutch influence was on traditional, rather than academic architecture, on those quiet and unpretentious buildings of the countryside. Here the foreign motives were almost imperceptibly blended with those existing, neither suddenly nor inharmoniously. A feature was added here, a detail there, yet the work remained truly English in character. Old villages can yet show buildings that bear upon them traces of an alien hand, or embody ideas drawn from other than local sources of inspiration. Such are the East Kentish cottages at Sandwich, Ickham, Reading Street and Sarre; the halls and manor-houses of Norfolk, Suffolk, and Essex, with corbie-stepped and curved gables; the high brick barns of the Eastern counties; and endless picturesque groupings of certain distinction that exist up and down the land. The industrious settlers from over the water certainly brought something to our traditional architecture, gave it qualities that helped to make it what it was. And when they came to erect their dwellings on foreign soil, they cherished the memory of their own country, and turned their thoughts to home and to the houses on the tree-lined streets and waterways of Holland. DIVISION I THE DEVELOPMENT OF DOMESTIC ARCHITECTURE The only really abundant building materials in Holland were bricks. Stone was available in limited quantities, but not readily so. Brick-earths there were in plenty, and brick-building has been practised continuously from the dawn of Dutch architecture to the present day. The inhabitants, after long and intimate association, became very proficient in the use of bricks, skilful in applying them, and apt to quickly realize the possibilities afforded by this material. There is, therefore, a great deal of old work of exceptional interest which is, in addition, valuable for the suggestions it presents. The creation and development of an architectural style, depending upon brickwork as the medium for its execution, call into being considerable powers of ingenuity. For the limitations of bricks are definite and circumscribed; the unit is small and its size not subject to variation. Moreover, enrichment can only be obtained by careful disposition and arrangement of the units, and the almost unlimited scope possessed by stone, wood or plaster--both in respect to size of parts and effects of surface decoration--is nearly non-existent. Difficulties such as these have to be realised and overcome, but good results are not easily secured. The preconceived ideas in the mind, the general proportions, and the disposition of features, are governed to a degree by the nature of the building material. And for these reasons, the bonding of the walling, colour arrangements, width and finish of the mortar joints, and the precise manner of forming details, all contribute markedly to the ultimate appearance of the whole. Good brickwork depends, even more than other forms of building, upon a complete understanding of the capabilities of the medium; skill in manipulating it is secondary only to capacity for design. It was in the use of bricks that the Dutch were especially successful. Qualified by experience gained through years of experiment, their achievements were dexterous and often daring. They were thoroughly at home with brickwork, alive to its restrictions as well as its possibilities, and they handled it in a spontaneous and reasonable way. All the features and details of some buildings had to be suitably designed for execution in this not very pliable material--gables (page 21), windows, doorways (shown above), decoration, mouldings and traceries. Problems such as these, definitely existing, were satisfactorily solved. The craftsmen thought in brickwork, as it were, and forms were more or less dictated by the means available for carrying them out. Not that stone was ignored; on the contrary, it was doubtless used when it could be obtained, as our illustrations plainly show. Thus, it was employed not only for ornamental details but often for the entire structures. Wood had its uses too, as may be seen in the half-timbered houses at Dordrecht or the wooden-fronted ones at Gorinchem (Gorcum), illustrated opposite; and plaster entered into the construction of many country buildings. But the prevailing conditions brought about an advanced development of brickwork and through it the vital building tradition was evolved. The old bricks themselves were particularly well shaped and the proportion of height to length gave a long and narrow appearance. How narrow they actually were will be realised when it is stated that it not infrequently happens we find them no more than 1-1/4 inches high. Some of the sizes noted are 1-1/4 inches by 6-3/4 inches to 7 inches at Workum; 1-1/2 inches by 7 inches at Breda (page 24); 1-1/2 inches by 8-1/2 inches, and 1-3/4 inches by 7 inches to 8-1/2 inches at Haarlem; and 2 inches by 9 inches at 's Hertogenbosch. They were laid with five, six, or seven courses to the foot, and sometimes the door and window openings were formed with smaller sized bricks than those used for the main walling. It was only rarely that comparatively large bricks were employed. Some may be seen in the walls of the old Abbey at Middelburg, and "Thvis van Leeninge" (page 25), situated in the same town, has bricks measuring 2-1/2 inches by 9-1/2 inches; while a building at Franeker, in Friesland, is carried out in unusually large bricks, which vary in size from 3 inches to 3-1/2 inches by 10-1/2 inches to 11-1/2 inches. The joints are widest in the older work and were either finished with dark mortar, no lighter in tone than the bricks, or were raked out and pointed up with light mortar. The bond almost universally adopted was that known by the name of "English" and not, as is often erroneously stated, "Flemish." English bond consists of alternate courses of headers and stretchers; that is to say, one course of bricks, all placed longways, upon a course all laid endways, and so continuously up the wall. Flemish bond, rarely to be seen in Holland, has alternate headers and stretchers in every course. Dutch brickwork shows a wide range of colouring. Some is very dark and of a purple tint; some is yellow, particularly in the neighbourhood of Dordrecht; red bricks there are in every town; while at Breda they gradate from lemon yellow to a delicate salmon pink. It will be perceived that materials such as these offered means for harmonious combinations. The possibilities were appreciated, and about the country there exist many happy effects which were secured by blending the various coloured bricks. It was a favourite method to build walls with parti-coloured bands running horizontally through them in the manner shown from Franeker (page 26), where four courses of red bricks interchange with one of yellow. Mouldings and surrounds to openings often contrasted with the prevailing colour of the building. As an illustration of this, the example from Dordrecht (below) may be cited; the walls are formed with yellow bricks and the decorated window-heads with red. In addition to effects obtained by colour harmonies, enrichment was secured by applying moulded and shaped brickwork. It was confined principally to the doorways, windows and string courses, and how successful this system of ornamentation can be will be realised by further reference to the two above-mentioned drawings. Among other familiar features of Dutch buildings are the mosaic decorations which generally occupy the arched spaces over window-heads. Made up of simple units--square or shaped bricks and little pieces of stone--they were set together to form repeating patterns and devices. Many of the houses, such as that at Dordrecht (page 27), attain distinction by reason of these interesting and freely rendered details, and they will be more fully considered in the following chapter on exterior features. Pantiles were almost universally used for roof-coverings in the towns, while in the country thatching was freely employed. Under certain conditions the good qualities of pantiles show conspicuously. Where the country is level and the landscape low, and big changing sky-effects constantly recur, they look particularly homely and suitable. Their curved surfaces quickly respond to play of light, becoming successively bright in the sunlight or mellow-toned in the shadow. They have the appearance, too, of being well able to withstand the wind and the rain. Holland is a country having the attributes for the successful use of these tiles; moreover, they blended in every way with the prevailing brick architecture, both of the towns and of the villages, as is shown by the illustrations from Haarlem (page 29) and St. Laurens (page 31). They were not always of that bright red colour usually associated with pantiles. Many were made from a grey clay and look not unpleasing; especially in the town and neighbourhood of Zutphen they can be well observed. The thatched roofs of the countryside do not present any special characteristics. They were contrived to accomplish their purpose in a straightforward way. Brought down directly from ridge to eaves, or arranged pyramidally, they have no added decoration in straw-work. The ridge was protected by a course of half-round tiles of which the farmhouse at Spaarwoude (page 30) furnishes an example, and the roof of this building, arranged part in thatch and part in pantiles, is an instance of a fairly prevalent practice. Passing from the consideration of building materials to that of planning, it may be stated as a general rule that the ground plans of the old work were usually determined by the exigencies of practical requirements. The very narrow frontage of many of the houses gave little latitude for variation of interior disposition: for it will be noticed that the majority of the houses were built with gable-ends facing to the streets, and these consequently became the principal elevations. The measurement from front to back of each was thus much greater than that from side to side. The economical and practical way of treating such an area would be to arrange a passage at the side, directly through from front to back, which would, as well, give access to the rooms and stairs; and this is what was generally done. Such a passage, sketched from the outside pavement, is shown on this page. This expedient was not necessary when the building had a wider frontage, and in such a case the way through was often placed more or less centrally, in the manner illustrated from Alkmaar on page 33. On the other hand, the narrow house at Hoorn (page 34) has a central entrance, and here it gives immediate access to the front room. But the passage was an important feature of Dutch planning and gave the fundamental idea for general disposition. The internal arrangements were disclosed by the elevations and a guiding principle of Gothic design was thereby followed. The positions of lofty rooms, ways of access, staircases and different floor levels, were as much as possible made obvious on the outside of the buildings. This practice led to many happy results. Not fettered by artificial conventions or limited by unyielding laws, the designers were able to give scope to their invention. Utility and convenience set the theme for spontaneous fancy to adorn. These were the motive powers, the guiding impulses that lay behind the early work, and they continued to operate with more or less force for many generations. The series of houses in the "Balans" at Middelburg (page 35) furnishes a good example of a group that owed its inception to such influences. While there is harmony between part and part no two are alike. One house is higher than its fellow; one comes forward over the paved way while another recedes. Doorways and windows are conveniently, but not too evenly disposed. The brightly painted window-shutters give lively colour, and isolated features--such as the staircase turret seen on the right--show with telling effect. Gables of differing shape break the skyline. Utilitarian in lighting the rooms of the roofs, the dormers æsthetically serve to carry the eye up to the ridges. The whole impression, if irregular, is picturesque to a degree. Contemplating an effect such as this, so powerful in its human appeal to the eye and mind, it is difficult to appreciate those arguments which are advanced against principles capable of giving such satisfying results. The most characteristic essential of domestic architecture in Holland is the steeply-pitched gable. It was derived from Gothic sources. Gables owning this influence almost invariably have the lines of their two ascending sides broken by a series of steps which continue upwards from base to apex. They are consequently called "stepped," and such gables will be observed in the drawing from Middelburg mentioned above. The acute rake of the gables determined the slant of the roofs. This circumstance, together with the fact that houses usually had little frontage to the streets, gave great roof spaces incapable of being adequately lighted by windows inserted in the walls. So the fore part consisted of a room (or rooms) which was generally assigned to servants, and the rear area, lighted by dormers, was used for storing and kindred purposes, one all-important among the latter being that of "drying washing." These dormers were quite important factors in architectural composition; each had hinged and painted shutters and a little steep roof. Sometimes they were elaborated, as may be seen, for instance, in the drawing from Hoorn (page 37). The dormer eventually became a much developed feature. In examples such as those shown from Leiden (page 39), where two of the houses are not ended by a gable, the main roof would be hipped back. A certain number of dwellings were built with one of the longest sides occupying the main frontage. The house at Hoorn (page 36) was so constructed. The floor-joists, carried through the walling, are exposed to view; they project beyond the face of the ground floor wall and support an overhanging upper storey. Similar examples occur at Vlissingen (Flushing), and there the joist-ends are carved with representations of small human heads, each of different design. Very noticeable, both in early and later work, is the great height of ground-floor rooms and passages. They not uncommonly measure from eleven to thirteen feet, or even more, from floor to ceiling. The windows, proportionate to the rooms, are extremely lofty. Over entrance doorways are fanlights of conspicuous size, which are occasionally nearly as large as the doors themselves. Some houses, with very high front rooms abutting on the street, have at the back two stories contained within this same height. The example from Woudrichem (page 38) is disposed in this way; the fore part of the hall, from which the drawing was made, together with the adjoining room are almost twice as lofty as the passage seen beyond; the stairs give access to the imposed intermediate floor. Heights of rooms gradually diminish upward from the ground, and the string-courses that externally mark the position of the floors, are consequently nearest together far up the walls and gables. It will be seen by the foregoing how construction and practical arrangement went hand in hand with design, neither one being divorced from the other. Especially is this demonstrated by the Gothic buildings and those which primarily betray a Gothic origin. The house from Middelburg (page 40) is given as an example. It is a highly successful piece of grouping, and the features show with admirable effect. The walls are of brickwork and the dressings of stone. On the gable-end bands of stone alternate with courses of bricks, while set back in the angle the well-placed turret, steep-roofed and soaring, dominates the composition. How accurately the value of horizontal and vertical elements was estimated, and how cunningly they were opposed to each other, will be observed. The gateway from Nijmegen (page 41) was conceived in much the same spirit as the above, and here again the turret was effectively employed. Both it and the pointed archway are in quite the Gothic manner; but the crow-stone, or terminating member of the gable, the band of diaper executed in brick and stone, and the details of the windows (near to which the date of 1606 appears) point to other influences. On the exterior walls of the house from Zutphen (page 43) can be seen the sunk panels, set back from the main face of the brickwork, which served for the insertion of windows. They often extend from near the ground to well up the gable. The dividing projections, turned with arches at their extremities, give bold upright lines. In the example cited these lines have evidently been broken by the rebuilding of the first-storey wall. It is dated 1547. The upper part, showing the sunk panel bordered by moulded bricks, the arched head--in this instance pointed and supported on each side by small circular turrets--and the shuttered window, is given in detail on page 42. A noticeable treatment of the ground floor elevation is exemplified by the two drawings from Alkmaar and Hoorn (pages 33 and 34), already considered, and by that from Veere (page 44). Each is constructed principally in woodwork, and the many windows amply serve to light the lofty rooms. The wooden mullions are simply shaped and enriched, while over them is a moulded cornice. Above the lower series of windows in the Alkmaar example is a projecting hood, which affords protection from the weather. The date of 1609 is carved upon it, and other buildings having this characteristic usually belong to the opening years of the seventeenth century. A more artistic and satisfactory solution to the difficult problem of adequately lighting the entire side of a high room or shop would not easily be found in the old work of any other country. It is not possible to make any hard and fast division between Gothic and Renaissance work. The actual dates of the buildings form no conclusive key, for it has been demonstrated in the Introduction how the later development did not advance evenly throughout the country. Houses built in the traditional way, and in a mixture of styles, are to be seen in almost all old towns (page 45). Sometimes one influence shows predominantly, sometimes another. The brick and stone façade at Delft (page 46) has all the attributes of Gothic work, pointed arches, overhanging stories, stepped gable and pinnacles. But the spirit of the carved details is different. The heads in circles, cherubs, vases, cornucopias, lion-heads, dolphins, eagles and acanthus ornament are all subjects far removed from Gothic ideas, as are the delicately carved corbels from which the arches spring. Two other houses that owe much to Gothic influences are those from Haarlem (page 47) and Alkmaar (page 48). The first-named was built in 1637 and the second in 1673. The more recently dated example shows, in point of style, the earlier architectural form. Both have the customary stepped gable and window-heads, the Alkmaar examples being elliptically arched and those at Haarlem pointed. But in the latter instance the keystones are furnished with Renaissance ornaments, as is the crowning pediment of the gable. The three following buildings mark a further step forward in architectural development. In general disposition of masses they accord with olden practices, but the decorative details approximate Renaissance ideas. "De Crimpert Salm" at Dordrecht (page 51), of 1608, presents a rich appearance, but the profuse elaboration of the front was not achieved by accident or haphazard use of material. The balance of the design was obviously well considered. Horizontal motives, intensified below the first-floor level, give a stable base for the lavishness overhead; above, they repeat with less force and are finally carried up the gable by the steps. The vertical lines, obtained principally by the window openings and frames, are similarly reduced towards the top, and there the curved elements are concentrated. Upon a low wall of stone and brick stands the woodwork front of the ground floor. Next in order comes a broad band of mosaic decoration executed in brick and stone (page 50), bounded at each end by lion-heads in high relief, and divided centrally by a stone panel with a salmon carved upon it. Other mosaics show in the arched spaces over the windows of the next storey (page 50), while the equivalent space in the gable is filled with arranged brickwork. Moulded bricks and stonework, plain and carved, all contribute to the exuberance of the scheme. The small example from Franeker (page 49) is built in brick and stone and was erected in 1634. It has the traditional gable but the old type of step, small in height and width, was not followed. Two steps only suffice to reach the gable-head and the side of each is finished with shaped stonework, a method of completion not employed in earlier times. Later in date than these two houses, that from Workum (page 52) gives an instance both of the persistence of established practice and of the human desire for newness and change. The builder evidently could neither forget nor abandon the general form of house arrangement that he knew so well, and to it he kept. This is especially obvious in the gable which mounts up in quite the Gothic way. The pilasters on the ground and first storey, however, plainly show that an attempt was made to keep in touch with the prevailing mode of the period. Each is terminated by a Corinthian capital and festoons of fruit are carved upon the panels. In these particulars the work, which was completed in 1663, was in agreement with the then advancing Classic taste. The bricks used in the walls are plum coloured and measure but 1-1/4 inches wide. Designers were thus getting farther away from Gothic architecture. The political and religious events of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries revolutionized old beliefs. Time-honoured faiths were not only given up, but were viewed with positive distrust. The powers that had swayed the people of the Middle Ages, the mysticism, ideals, and poetry of their lives, were unrealities to the great majority of seventeenth-century Hollanders; such doctrines fell meaningless upon their senses, and were to them but unintelligible and empty forms. They not unnaturally turned from a creed in whose name loathsome crimes had been committed and countless lives had been sacrificed. It was a time of new life and faith. This change in the trend of thought is amply reflected in the domestic architecture. The Gothic tradition, already more or less alienated from the public sympathies, had almost spent itself. Its vitality was gone and only as a survival, a mere shadow of former glory, was it carried on. The old order gave place to the new. But it was long before a fresh system of planning came to be generally accepted and mediæval methods of construction and workmanship still persisted. Classic motives, however, were increasingly applied to the elevations. All the features, and the entire decoration of many of the houses, were often the direct outcome of Renaissance influences. In some few cases--such as the gateway at Arnhem of 1642 (page 53)--the whole schemes were conceived in the Classic spirit and were evidently designed by men of advanced intelligence, who were able to comprehend the significance of the style in which they worked. Rembrandt's house at Amsterdam (page 54) is an able achievement, sober and dignified. The walls are built of ochre-coloured bricks, with stone used for the dressings. The date of 1606 appears on the upper storey. It has no gabled front, but a projecting cornice and pediment make division between the roof and wall surface. Above are two dormers placed in balanced order; while the roof, steeply rising and hipped and having a chimney at each end of the ridge, completes the studied arrangement. So far the work is in the style of the Renaissance, and it is only by the windows below that earlier influences are recalled: but the two themes are so well blended as to be perfectly harmonious. The net result is simple and reasonable and by no means lacking in scholarship. Very different is the Guild Hall at Zwolle (page 55), erected thirty-five years earlier. Its too fussy elaboration is in sharp contrast with the comparative restraint of Rembrandt's house, just mentioned. Classicism was applied without the Classic spirit and with little understanding of its real import. The general effect is rich and complex, but the composition lacks breadth and is overladen with ornament. Some of the details disclose good craftsmanship, notably the frieze which runs across the entire front at the first floor level, carved with cupids on horseback, old men with tridents, satyrs and flowing foliage, and broken at intervals by lion-heads worked on the bases of the pilasters. At the second storey is a Doric frieze, with sculptured circular ornaments and heads of bulls appearing in the metopes between the triglyphs. The gable, mediæval in feeling, is curly in outline; it is further complicated by the introduction of reclining satyrs and lascivious demi-gods that quaintly break the skyline. The designer evidently proposed to himself the Italian ideal, but did not grasp the meaning or refinement of it. Many details came to be used in a similar way, such, for instance, as those shown from Dordrecht (page 50) and Flushing (page 56), but, although often of admirable workmanship, they were never coherent parts of a self-evolved whole. A house of somewhat unusual appearance is that in the Voorstraat at Dordrecht, dated 1626 and illustrated on page 57. At the top is an open arcade constructed wholly in bricks, with the exception of the stones upon which the arches rest. The brick walls are relieved by stonework, while projecting pilasters separate the large lead-glazed and shuttered windows. Houses that depended upon dormers for their controlling architectural idea were common in the seventeenth century. The front wall is usually only one storey high and the dormers rise from it at the line of the eaves. When the frontage is wide and the building long and low, as is the case at Kampen (page 59), these features--shaped and carved and fundamentally valuable in lighting the rooms of the roof--show with good effect. A smaller house in the same town, given on page 58, has a single dormer only. It contributes the necessary interest to what would otherwise be a very dull effort of building. On the frieze at its base is a carved stone representation of the Nativity, while below appears the inscription "IN BETHLEHEM 1631." Those principles that imparted to the domestic architecture of Holland its picturesqueness, and so gave to it its most valued possession, were strained to the uttermost as the freshness of the Transitional style declined. The influences bequeathed from former ages were running out. Extreme freedom of design, although showing certain originality and character, was not accompanied by necessary restraint. Architects sometimes cast aside all the limitations of their art and gave themselves up to unreasonable over-elaboration and the grotesque; they ignored the fact--true for all time--that construction must form the basis for ornamental detail. But it must not be thought that this was always so. There is, however, certain work of this period that cannot seriously be accepted as good. Brickwork and stone continued to be employed and were still associated with excellent workmanship, as was the carpentry. There was evidently yet, as the many dated buildings prove, a large body of men who had complete mastery of their particular crafts, men versed in that traditional skill which had come down unbrokenly from mediæval days. Prominence was given to the numerous door and window openings, which were heavily moulded and often surmounted by pediments. Gables were shaped in endless ways and upon them almost every conceivable combination of curves was employed. Pilasters and cornices, swags and festoons, with strap ornament, scrolls and ornate iron wall-ties, all generally of debased Renaissance character, contributed to the rich profusion. Whither events in architectural history were tending will be seen in the following illustrations. The "Goudkantoor" at Groningen (page 60), bearing a motto and date of 1635, and a house near to it of the year 1661 (page 61), have quaint gables, curiously shaped and laden with carved stone decorations. On the walls below the same complex treatment continues, especially on the "Goudkantoor," the entrance doorway of which is emphasised by the work surrounding it. At Franeker (page 62) is an extreme development of the step gable, with the four steps supporting masses of coarsely-designed ornamentation. The heavy pediments to the windows are conspicuous, as are the many stone details. Two panels are inscribed with "ANNO 1662." With the above-mentioned may be compared the two gables at Alkmaar (page 65) which betray the same source of origin. Each is crowned by a stone pediment, and the steps have carvings resting upon them. Applied to the wall of the farthermost house, and placed centrally between the windows of the second storey, is a notable iron wall-tie of much larger size than was usual. An enlarged drawing of it is reproduced on page 64. Another variation of gable outline is illustrated from 's Hertogenbosch (page 63). In this case the stone-capped sides follow the lines of sweeping curves, and on them, facing outwardly, are little carved bunches of fruit and flowers. The front face of this building is remarkable for the use of pilasters. They are boldly carried up from bases to the head of the gable. The pillars, executed in unrelieved brickwork, have stone capitals of the Ionic order which carry an entablature. There appears the date of MDCLXXI. The bricks are 2 inches wide by 9 inches long and are laid about five courses to one foot. It eventually came to pass that the gabled treatment, which had been the guiding principle of house design for so many generations, was given up. And with the disappearance of it there went that which had given character to the architecture of Holland. The links of the tradition were broken. The old sources of inspiration no longer served. Inherited ability and skill, originality and vigour, were being lost, and the last traces of native ideas are to be found in inconspicuous buildings such as that given from The Hague (page 66). Although hipped roofs, wide projecting cornices and other Renaissance features were employed, as is shown by the drawings from Velsen (page 67), and Zutphen (page 69), a pure Renaissance domestic architecture did not become established. When the traditional style, owning both Gothic and Renaissance motives, had ceased to hold its ground, the stream of design--which until then had flowed continuously --ebbed low, and houses became uninteresting and commonplace. Away in the country the town architecture is mirrored in the brick buildings of the numerous villages. Less pretentious in appearance, their style is well suited to the simpler conditions that there obtain; for the crowded activity of the town waterways is absent on the calm canals that wind between meadows, and give communication from village to village; on the quays life moves placidly. Spaarndam (page 71) furnishes a typical village view, with its gabled brick and white-fronted houses, screened by delicate greenery. The Ferry House, near Gennep (page 73), has more ornate gables, curved and stepped, and on the front is diaper brickwork. There also developed a type of building peculiar to the countryside. It is shown by the many farmhouses and cottages. Their outward forms were determined by constructional principles, and added adornment was but little employed. They are unobtrusive examples of honest work, not claiming especial distinction, yet in thorough harmony with their natural environment. They were brought into being by prevailing needs, and are the local representatives of that phase of native art which is to be found in almost every country. Such village homes exist in all parts of Holland. The style of them shows little variation in the different localities. They are equally suited to the windswept Friesland landscape, the watered provinces of North and South Holland, or the beautiful country of North Brabant, with its hedgerows and woods and distant hills. Grouping, perchance, around old brick churches and sheltered by trees, as at Spaarwoude (page 68), they are pleasant and rustic to see. Under one great thatched or tiled roof all the covered accommodation necessary for farm life is contained. One side of the building is occupied by living apartments, the remainder providing a huge barn, stalls for cattle, and other conveniences for the farmer's work. These buildings were solidly constructed on a timber basis in the manner shown by the sectional view from Halfweg (page 70), where centre and side aisles are divided from each other by the stout upright timbers. Extreme durability was the keynote and the materials were employed according to their quality. This traditional form of building, practised for many generations, continues in use to the present day. An illustration of the exterior of a similar homestead to that mentioned above, and from the same village, also appears on page 70. The great roof, hipped at each end and covered with pantiles, will be observed. Beneath the eaves are the domestic rooms, in this instance all upon the ground floor; often they extend to a second storey in the roof, which is then lighted by dormers. The cottages follow the same general constructive principles as the farms, and have similar low walls and large roofs. A lean-to was frequently added to give an additional room, and the main roof brought down over it at a less steep pitch. The roof space, valuable as a store, is in many cases reached from the exterior by a ladder. In addition to the customary steeply-pitched roofs, those of the Mansard pattern occur less frequently, as is exemplified by the drawing from Schooten (page 72). Country work does not exhibit a great variety of building materials. Bricks, being made from the natural product and consequently readily available, were principally used for the walls. Rather than left in their normal state, they were often thinly coated with plaster on the outer face, and the lower parts, for about two feet upwards from the ground, were tarred. Houses and cottages of this description together form a characteristic group in the country architecture of Holland. They were built upon a traditional system which grew out of the accumulated experience that was transmitted from generation to generation. Customary examples are shown in the two drawings from Beek (pages 74 and 76), and by that from Broek in Waterland (page 78). The farmhouse from Brigdamme (page 75) is of a similar character; at the entrance are two stone gate-piers, dated 1622. Two influences are to be traced in the farm at Bloemendaal (page 77). The main building has the white plastered walls and large roof--which in this case comes forward to cover an open verandah--while the adjoining gable is of natural coloured bricks and more in the style of town work. Houses with wooden walls are prevalent, especially in North Holland. Upon a low brick wall, tarred, and varying in height from 18 to 30 inches, the timber frame was erected. Boards were simply nailed to it and the framing was commonly left exposed to view on the exterior. The boarding was well coated with paint or tar for protection against the weather. A roof of thatch or tiles, well projecting at the eaves, covered the whole. There was thus provided, by simple and economical means, a type of building well suited for its purpose. The village of Broek has many examples of timber houses, such as those here given on page 79; while near by, at Monnikendam, Volendam, and on the Island of Marken, are numerous others. An extravagant use of paint is conspicuous in the country as well as the towns. It is renewed at frequent intervals and, in the main, it is well applied. Shutters and doors and window frames, and frequently the whole house front, are freely covered with it. But the effects are not unpleasing. They give to the villages an air of gaiety and freshness. Plain schemes of colour are wisely adhered to, while throughout a district one general note will be followed. On the island of Walcheren it is apple-green and white; north of Amsterdam bluey-green and cream; while the woodwork of the house at Beek (page 81) is painted in the tones of buff that find favour in the locality of Nijmegen. There are many other domestic features worthy of note to be seen in the villages of Holland; quaint appliances for wells, ingeniously worked (page 80), or little bridges that span dividing dykes, and connect homesteads with the highways. One from Zuiderwoude, near the edge of the Zuider Zee, is illustrated on this page. It is built of brick relieved by a little stonework. On the keystone of the arch appears the date of 1799. The wooden gates above give access to the farm and the fields. The Dutch, too, have a marked fondness for natural beauty, as is demonstrated by the skill they display in laying-out open spaces. All towns can show flower gardens and lawns, or old fortifications overlooked by gaunt watch-towers, transformed into pleasant parks. Nijmegen and Arnhem are noteworthy in this respect. Very charming, too, are the village streets, of which that at Brigdamme (page 18) is a typical instance. They are lined with many trees that afford kindly shade in summer and shelter from the wind, and gratify the eyes with traceries of green. DIVISION II EXTERIOR FEATURES--DOORS, WINDOWS, GABLES & ORNAMENTS From the time when Dutch houses were built in a definite recognised style the features were always treated with skill and care. The many and crowded openings were accentuated. Doorways became imposing through the enrichment that surrounded them and windows were similarly emphasised. Panels, carvings, and ironwork decorated the walls, while the crowning gables, crow-stepped or curved, completed the richness of the buildings. Upon all these details, whether for a public building or private dwelling, great labour was expended. A careful examination of them discloses much inventive readiness and meritorious execution. Particular prominence was given to external doorways. The manner of their treatment varied widely. They were regarded as more than mere ways of access and upon them the best skill of the craftsmen was frequently concentrated. A personal note would be added by the introduction of the owner's arms or initials, the date of the work, or some quaint conceit of peculiar and subtle meaning. Among the examples extant, those of the early period incline to greatest simplicity. They were based on the current forms that were employed in ecclesiastical and civic architecture. The openings are spacious and are surrounded by mouldings. The arches at the heads are pointed, trefoil, or elliptic shapes. When there are label-mouldings above they follow the curves of the arches and support or surround the arms, panels, or other decorations. The doorway at Delft (page 87) is a good example of work dictated by Gothic influences. From carved stops at each side spring the simple mouldings that extend round the opening. It is surmounted by a label, near the centre of which is a three-sided space, enclosed by mouldings and filled by a winged cherub's head carved in relief, while the label is terminated by a finial. The wooden door is noteworthy. It is composed of six boards and upon the outer face of each are shallow grooves running continuously from top to bottom. Projecting nailheads arranged in vertical lines, together with other ironwork, give further interesting ornamentation. Another doorway from the same town (page 88) is built of stone and moulded bricks. The space at the head, contained within a trefoil arch, has carved upon it a shield--lacking armorial bearings--supporters, and a scroll with the date of 1547. The semi-circular arch which surrounds the trefoil is one of the series that repeat across the building. That other early type of house, peculiar for its windowed ground floor front constructed in wood, such as is given from Veere on page 44, had its entrance doorway made with three plain stout timbers, one at each side and one across the top as a lintel. An elaboration of the simple wooden doorway occurs at Leiden (page 89). It is crowned by mouldings, below which appears an ogee arch shaped in wood. The parti-coloured effect of the door itself is achieved by the application of contrasting tints of paint. The circular arch followed the pointed although simultaneously a modified form of the latter, of which that from Haarlem (page 89) is an instance, continued to be used. Of circular-arched doorways there are endless examples which were erected in a manner that became general and customary. They were usually built in stone and bricks. Those from Leiden (below), Flushing (page 91), and Leeuwarden (page 86) are characteristic. The Leiden doorway of 1615, with moulded opening and carved archstones, is doubtless the earliest of the three and most nearly allied to the work of the preceding century. The two remaining examples incline to later influences, particularly to be observed in the enrichment of the jambs. Changing taste brought a new treatment to external doorways. They were affected by the same forces that altered the outward character of late sixteenth and seventeenth-century houses. Renaissance detail gradually became established and doorways of the seventeenth-century were frankly treated in a Classic way, rich in pilasters, capitals, friezes, pediments and mouldings, with an especial preference for an adapted form of the Ionic order. Stone was now almost exclusively used for this feature, unaccompanied by brick. "Delvitt's Poort" at Woudrichem (page 85) shows a rather advanced development for the period of 1611 to which it belongs. The whole of it is painted, with the carved details picked out in different colours. Two doorways illustrated here are well designed and proportioned. They are distinguished by the elaboration that appears at their heads. Upon the frieze immediately above the arch of the Kampen example (page 93) will be seen the inscription and date of 1665, over which is a broken pediment surmounted by particularly well-rendered armorial bearings carved in stone. The frieze at Leeuwarden (page 89) is similarly inscribed, the date in this case being 1675, while within the heavily moulded pediment is a coat of arms. Less complicated is the doorway from Leiden of 1655 (page 96). It is crowned by mouldings and decorated below by festoons in relief. The above will show the fashion of the time, tending towards correctness in design, with details carefully thought out and well executed. Many eighteenth-century doorways were unduly florid and may well be described as rococo. That from Marssum in Friesland (below), belonging to the year 1713, is of this kind. The overladen ornament and peculiarities of design suggest the unreality of a poor stage-setting, rather than serious architecture; while the incongruity of the work can only be appreciated by an inspection of the original, situated as it is among cottages in a quiet village street. Later in the century French influence was predominant. Details, such as are noticeable in the Arnhem doorway (page 94), were based on the Louis XV. style which not only affected the work of the towns but permeated into the heart of the country. The small cottage doors and doorways in villages such as Broek have all the attributes of the then prevailing mode. The wooden doors were much enriched either with applied ironwork, or mouldings and panels. Metal locks, bolts, hinges and nails are conspicuous in the early specimens. The use of ironwork on the door from Dordrecht (page 95) is carried to an extreme degree; but, be it noted, all the fittings have a practical purpose. It was only after needs had been provided for that embellishment was added, discernible in the shaping of the lock-plates and hinges and the arrangement of the nailheads. The centre of the more recent example from Haarlem (page 95) is occupied by a large sunk panel surrounded by mouldings, a section of which is given. A good piece of woodcarving is that appearing on the lintel, having for its subject a ship sailing on rough water. Windows of houses were almost always square-headed. They appear so in existing examples belonging to the Gothic period. The traceries and pointed heads, usual in early civic buildings, were rarely adopted for house windows, although arched spaces, filled with tracery, were not uncommonly built over them. A fine series of such window-heads is to be seen on the stone front of the "Scotch House" at Veere (page 97); there are others at Kampen and on a house in the Groenmarkt at Dordrecht. Except in cases where the openings were small, they were divided vertically by mullions and transversely by cross-bars. The lower windows were closed by wooden shutters. Two examples, from Nijmegen and Dordrecht (page 99), both of Gothic design and of sixteenth century workmanship, are illustrated. The Dordrecht shutter is constructed of beautifully grained pieces of oak, jointed and pegged together. Late Gothic windows have also pointed and elliptical arches over the heads unenriched by decoration. They were customarily built in brickwork, with the window spaces flush, or set back from the face of the walling. Pointed arches ceased to be generally used after the coming of the Renaissance. The elliptical shape, however, continued, and the establishment of the circular arch was but a short and natural step in development. These two forms obtained for many succeeding years. Instances of either type are presented in the drawing from Zwolle (page 101), and innumerable others are shown by the illustrations in this volume. They were not given up until displaced by classic pediments, or the overhead feature was altogether abandoned. The gabled front at Gorinchem (page 103), built in stone and brick, has circular arches appearing over the windows. The enclosed spaces are richly decorated by stone carvings, and the character of the work seems to be advanced for the period to which it apparently belongs. Much interesting sculpture is also distributed over the gable and walls of this building. Windows were first glazed with leaded lights. Small squares of glass, as at Dordrecht (page 98), or diamond panes were used. But during the seventeenth century the employment of wooden bars became universal and leadwork went out of fashion. The openings were divided centrally by transoms, the lower windows receding inwards considerably more than the upper ones. Wooden shutters, opening outwards, were still customary. They were occasionally large enough to cover the whole window, but usually only the lower half was furnished with them. Seventeenth-century shutters are not comparable, in point of carved enrichment, with those of Gothic times; the woodwork, frequently devoid of ornament, is fastened to the window-frames by iron strap-hinges, and fitted with bolts and catches. They are, however, brightly painted and are interesting in consequence, giving colour to the architectural groups. Many harmonious schemes are to be observed; green and white; white, green and red; yellow and black; red and black; and numerous others. The coloured drawing from Nijmegen (opposite) shows shutters painted in red and black; while several specimens, from North and South Holland, are given (pages 98 to 100). The glazing of windows was first enclosed by casements, with hinges to open and shut. After casements came sash windows, which were substituted for the older form. There are many shown in the illustrations. Those from Flushing (page 105), appearing on a house dated 1625, differ somewhat from the usual type, being surrounded by mouldings and carvings. Dormer windows also, as has already been stated, became much-developed features during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Three characteristic specimens are given: two from Kampen, of the years 1626 and 1634, and a later dormer, from Marssum, belonging to the eighteenth century, all shown on page 102. The distinguishing gables--so often mentioned, and intimately associated with house development--exhibit infinite varieties of treatment. Between the early stepped shapes, and the fantastic outlines of later days, there is an innumerable succession. They followed the trend of design prevalent at the time of their erection. Thus, the two gables, from Kampen (page 104) and Dordrecht (page 107), are in keeping with the current forms of the late Gothic period. They are both built of stone and decorated on the face with sunk panels and carvings. The Kampen gable has pinnacles rising from the coping of the steps, usual features in work of the time; while the twisted finials at Dordrecht, associated with the first quarter of the sixteenth century, are worthy of notice. It is impossible to consider here in detail the numerous vicissitudes through which the development of the gable passed during the many years that Gothic and Renaissance motives were acting together as guiding influences. Roughly and briefly, mediæval character was observed in respect to construction and general management of masses--evident by the stepped and curved gables--with a marked tendency to Classic feeling in the handling of details. Work was carried out wholly in brick, or in brick relieved by stone. Among the large number of different outlines that are in evidence, those based on the original stepped form show predominantly. But the spirit of the times is discernible in the culminating pediments, mouldings, and stone decorations. Four typical gables, all sketched in North Holland, are illustrated (pages 106 and 109). A good example of shaping, achieved by the use of oppositive curves, is that from Arnhem (page 108), and the stonework of the copings extends to the strapwork ornament. Two gables from Leiden (page 109) are well carried out in brickwork. How effectively window-heads and copings were handled, yet withal in a perfectly workmanlike way, is demonstrated by the larger drawing; the brickwork is flush and obliquely tailed into the horizontal courses of the wall. Long sweeping curves were much employed in the shaping of later gables. The house opposite the bridge in the Franeker illustration (page 113) has such a gable, and it is dated 1735. Another, from Amsterdam (page 110), has similar characteristics. Both are enriched with stone representations of fruit and flowers, vases and festoons, all quite in the spirit of late seventeenth and eighteenth-century work. The sides of the gables of farmhouses and country cottages, straight and unshaped, are not uncommonly protected by barge-boards. The two timbers, running from base to apex, may have mouldings worked at the edge of them; or the undersides are diversified by repeating curves, with pendants appearing at the lower ends. Both methods are figured in detail in drawings 1, 2, and 4 on page 111. Fascia-boards, applied to overhanging stories of wooden houses, are similarly decorated; two are exemplified in numbers 6 and 7. The wooden finials, which are planted on the outer faces of the gables at their highest points, are variously shaped and perforated, and the details numbered 1, 2, 3 and 5 give four examples of them. There is an absence of interesting chimneys in Holland, for the gable ends of the high and narrow-fronted houses, bordering the street, obscured from view these objects of usefulness. Solely utilitarian, therefore, they generally remained, shafts of the simplest form, serving the purpose for which they were devised, owing nothing to beauty or ornament and little to precedent. When hipped roofs were employed, instead of gables, chimneys came into greater prominence. But even then--with an absence of developed, traditional forms to give the basis for the evolution of a settled type--they did not constitute important decorative factors in the architectural scheme. Many stacks have neither mouldings nor other projection at the top. Chimneys a little more elaborate than was usual are shown by the two illustrations from Hoorn and Zutphen (page 112). They deviate somewhat from the plain rectangular shape, and both have moulded heads; while the Hoorn example has a pyramidal hood covered with lead and supported by four metal uprights. Isolated stone ornaments are numerous. They were inserted into walls with freedom and wheresoever caprice or fancy suggested--high up on gables, around doorways, over windows, or distributed on what would otherwise have been unrelieved spaces. The rich appearance of the buildings is in no small measure due to the extravagant use of these details. That bizarre kind of ornament, known by the name of strapwork, and well shown in the Arnhem gable (page 108), was freely used, as was carved work based upon Italian motives. Among the latter may be mentioned the more or less conventional representation of human forms, fruit and flowers, birds, fishes and beasts, with prominence given to heads of lions, or the complete animal in the attitude sejeant, popularly used as a gable termination. Of a more homely and personal character are the frequently occurring panels bearing, in well-cut figures and letters, dates, mottoes, and inscriptions; four are exemplified by the accompanying drawings from Zutphen (page 115) and Haarlem (pages 114 to 116). Equally symbolic of pride of home are the carved coats-of-arms which keep green, by visible sign, the memory of the builder and the honour of his house. One such armorial decoration from Workum, dated 1644, is illustrated on page 115. All these little enrichments, so constantly seen, are more than mere examples of craftsmanship; they essentially express the sentiments of the man who caused the stones to be laid. Things to be observed in everyday life naturally furnished subjects for carvings in stone. The forces of Nature, greatly influential in Holland--that is to say, water and wind and all that resulted therefrom--were turned to for inspiration. Decoratively treated water, with ships, windmills, and other appliances relevant to human convenience or suggestive of enterprise, were especially favoured. A windmill from Sneek, high in relief and painted black, red, gold and white, together with a ship from Haarlem appearing in an oval panel surrounded by a scrollwork frame, are illustrated (page 115). Interesting is the wall-panel at Franeker (page 114), with a scene from local history depicted upon it; there is much spirit shown in the carving of the men and horses, while the water, drawbridge, and distant houses are well managed. The house known as "Inde Steenrotse," situated on the Dwars Quay at Middelburg, dated 1590, is noteworthy for its large panels in high relief. It was built by a wealthy mason. Five of the carved subjects portray various episodes connected with the working of stone and two are here given (page 116); others, higher up the building, represent biblical scenes from the Book of Exodus. The mosaic decorations are of unusual interest, for they are of a kind more or less peculiar to this country. They were formed by inlaying small pieces of brick and stone set together to make repeating patterns or panels. As was customary, materials were used with just regard for their suitable adaptability to purpose; not employed unreasonably, or strained to accomplish that for which they were not fitted. The units were simple and results legitimate. This ornamental work was principally used to enrich the arched spaces over window-heads; less frequently it appears in bands carried horizontally across the buildings. The houses at Woudrichem (page 117)--inscribed "Iden Salamander 1606" and "Zuden Gulden Engel 1593"--have notable examples of mosaics in the window-heads. Two of the patterns are shown in detail on page 118, together with two others from a house near by. All were achieved by manipulating little shaped pieces of brick to form devices, especially noticeable being the starlike figures with radiating points. Work of a similar kind appears on the house at Zwolle, dated 1609, and illustrated on page 119. An enlarged drawing of one of the window-heads (page 118) gives the precise arrangement of the brick and stonework. There is quite a Moorish feeling evident in this design, with the two main portions of inlay enclosed by arch-shaped lines curved horseshoe fashion. The horseshoe arch was essentially a product of Morocco, and the analogy with the East is further strengthened by the fact that mosaic was a medium extensively used by Byzantine and Saracenic artists. These circumstances all suggest the origin of the employment of such work in Holland. On page 118 is represented a small section of the horizontal mosaic band that appears over the archway at Nijmegen (page 41). Simpler patterns were also formed with ordinary narrow bricks and mortar. Two examples are here given, both carried out in red and yellow bricks,--a frieze at the first storey level of a house at Workum and shaped spaces from Franeker (page 120). Turning to external metalwork the most characteristic objects are the iron wall-ties. They were applied to walls to give them stability. But the possibilities for artistic treatment which the wall-ties offered were by no means overlooked, as is demonstrated by the many and varied forms produced by the blacksmiths, who regarded these accessories, before all things, as the particular field for the display of their skill. Endless varieties are to be found, certain patterns being local to specific districts. Upon ordinary houses--and they were practically invariably used--they are usually no more elaborate than might be achieved by direct work on the anvil; of honest but unambitious appearance and shaped in simple ways, such as are shown by the illustrations on page 121. But the wall-ties of more important buildings are often complicated affairs; beautiful examples of design and craftsmanship which were wrought with labour. They are rich in scrolls and curves with foliated ornament, and one of the examples here given (page 123) has the date of 1798 worked within it. Iron letters and figures also decorate the fronts of many houses. Each is detached and secured to the wall by a single stay. They are arranged to denote dates or monograms. An example has already been seen at the base of a gable at Middelburg (page 35); another specimen, from St. Anna, near Nijmegen, is reproduced on page 122. Other wrought ironwork was used for various purposes on doors and windows, as well as to heighten the effect of certain features. A good instance of its application is demonstrated by the key-escutcheon, with supporting iron decorations, from Middelburg (page 123). The workmanship is of a traditional kind, with Gothic forms recalled by the cusps on the pierced plates. The iron door-knocker, appearing on the same page, is an interesting example of curious design and belongs to the sixteenth or seventeenth century. For windows, ironwork was used in the stout stay-bars and stanchions, instances of which, fitted to an oval opening, are furnished from Leiden (page 122). The magnificent wrought vanes of Holland, surmounting lofty belfries on public buildings, are justly famous and are reflected in the less elaborate shapes that adorn the roof points or gable terminations of business and dwelling-houses. One, from Middelburg (page 122), is a beautiful example of an iron terminal. The crowning figure and fleur-de-lis are gilded, while signs and symbols of the Zodiac are worked around the outer and inner open-framed globes. Simpler vanes are common throughout the country, attached to farmhouses or stables. That from Broek (page 122) is shaped like a swan; one may be seen at Veere which takes the form of a ship. The shaft of the weathercock from Hees (page 124) is made up of iron scrolls, welded together, and four projecting arms point to north, south, east and west. The leadwork to be observed on domestic buildings is not of remarkable interest. There are no wonderful decorated rain-water heads such as may be seen elsewhere, and lead heads, when used at all, are for the most part comparatively plain, square projections. The examples from Zutphen, reproduced on page 122, illustrate two ordinary forms. An interesting feature, prevalent in North Holland, is the lead finial placed at the apex of a hipped roof. There are many examples in the streets of Hoorn, three of which are shown on page 124. Notice should be taken of the delicate little fretwork heads; the repoussé patterns on the upright sides; and the iron vane which surmounts one of the examples. These objects, although of little practical use, have a decorative value that well justifies their existence. In all these exterior features and details, whether executed in wood or stone, metal or brick, there is especial evidence of the type of mind that was concerned with their production; they pertinently give the key to temperament and character. Such work resulted from deliberate thought and calculation, rather than from imaginative impulse. Sometimes it verged on dulness, yet there is always traceable a certain solid strength and vigour. This is well seen in the stone carvings, here illustrated, whose subjects are often lacking in originality or follow some oft-repeated theme. They are excellently carved, however, and attain interest in consequence. For the individuality of the masons is reflected in the inanimate stone. They gave life to their work and freshness to old subjects. Each man followed his own bent. Some were a little in advance of their time, some behind it, so there are endless variations to patterns that superficially agree. A new turn was given to a scroll here, a different arrangement there; just small things that served to raise work from the conventional and commonplace. The olden craftsmen respected tradition. Forms that became established by custom were handed down from generation to generation. Certain ornaments continued to be used, almost unaltered, over a very long period. Not that patterns were slavishly followed; on the contrary, each man gave his own interpretation of what he knew had served so well, and fashioned his work in his own way. But he remembered something of that which had gone before. Traditions of ornamentation were just as much founded upon accumulated experience as were the main styles of architecture. The worker saw around him the forces of Nature, active yet unchanging, the abiding waterways, the ancient churches standing as they had done in times long past, and it was in a spirit of respect for the permanence of spiritual and material things that he pursued his craft. This was altogether good. Methods of workmanship, the treatment of features, and types of enrichment, were gradually evolved. They were governed by ordered principles that slowly grew together and became established, principles that served to check the introduction of inharmonious innovations which would have been out of sympathy with all those forms that, as a whole, were customary and usual. Doorways, windows, gables and ornaments, therefore, by their particular appearance, mark various steps in a long-continued process of development. Period followed period. After the pointed-arched doorways came the circular-headed; gables of simple outline in course of time became more complex; fashions in the shaping of wall-ties changed. But nothing happened suddenly. Craftsmen were content to solve their own problems without any show of haste. It was by such methods that incongruities were avoided. The national temperament always asserted itself and each individual as he carved his stone, laid his bricks, worked his wood, or wrought his iron, did his small part to keep alive the inherited traditions, and pass them on so that they should be vigorous to meet the needs of future generations. The ornamental features that appear on the exterior walls impart to the buildings of Holland much of that quaintness for which they are distinguished. Although the decorations are so plentifully applied, they do not often appear misplaced or offend the eye. For the natural conditions of the country have always been peculiar. The low-lying lands and ever-present water demand a special type of architecture which shall be in thorough sympathy with the surroundings, as well as outwardly express the character of those people who live amongst them. Much is possible and good in Holland which would be out of place, or even bad, elsewhere. The many houses, appearing where they do, are admirably conceived. Rich with ornaments, date panels, little carvings, mosaics and ironwork--such as are shown by the illustrations in this section--with coloured bricks fashioned in many ways, and doorways and windows highly decorated, they cannot fail to appeal to those who see them in their natural environment. There is a personal note about each dwelling. They are houses that look like homes, places to be treasured by succeeding generations. And the evidences of pride of possession to be seen in the isolated panels carved with arms, dates and inscriptions, or similar motives worked around doorways, especially give to the brick and stone-built walls a home-like and fireside quality. Students of English architecture will have observed how homely ideas affected the appearance of the houses of Holland just as they did those of England. Similar sentiments obtained in both countries and indirectly brought kindred features to the buildings. It requires but little imagination to people once again the streets and waterways with men and women and of their lives are on every hand. The stones they lovingly caused to be carved are there; the heavy studded doors that yielded to their hands are still framed by old entrance ways. The work was done that it should last and yet it stands, solid and good. The glory of the house may have departed; yet there still remains the material record of lives well-spent and duties well-performed. And in this the carved monograms and dates are full of meaning. DIVISION III INTERIORS AND DECORATION There are, within the old buildings of Holland, interior effects of rare charm. They are hidden away from the outer world behind high gabled fronts of sober houses, beyond the thresholds of country farms. These interiors are rich in memories of the past. They tell of bygone times and bring vivid pictures of civic and home life to the imagination. Solidly built, they were erected with due thought to permanence, that they should stand from generation to generation; that men's memories might be honoured by their children and their children's children. That it should be continuous and abiding was the keynote of the old work which to this day is fresh and beautiful, full of life and vitality, although the makers of it have long since gone and are forgotten. And while things were made to be durable, so also were they made to please the eye and gratify the senses. Good construction, accompanied by much enrichment, gave results tending towards extreme elaboration. Rooms became imposing by their massive ceiling beams supported by sculptured corbels; panelling, or maybe Spanish leather or tapestry, upon the walls; carved oaken doors; fireplaces in wood and stone adorned with columns, figures and other devices; coloured tiles of many patterns; cast-iron firebacks and wrought metalwork; panels of painted glass in the windows; floors of oak, veined marble, or glazed quarries; brass candelabrums hanging from the ceilings, with movable furniture and ornaments disposed in many places. A good impression of a seventeenth-century room may be gathered from the accompanying illustration from Dordrecht (page 128). The walls are panelled in oak up to a certain height; above is a deep white frieze, admirably adapted for displaying the blue-and-white ware and pictures which rest against it. The chimney-piece is sumptuous, alternately gay and sober, charming below the mantel with brightly-coloured tiles and shining metal utensils, dignified above with panelling and projecting frieze. Forming the dividing line between mantel and fireplace is a mantel-cloth of blue material, inscribed with the homely maxim "Oost West, Thuis Best," and bearing a brace of crossed tobacco-pipes worked at each end of it. A good specimen of a brass candelabrum is attached to the central ceiling beam, while the floor is covered with matting. Solid oak furniture, massive and heavy, completes this picture of material comfort and pleasantness. Equally characteristic is the room at Leeuwarden (page 129). Similar features will be observed--panelling and carved woodwork; ceiling joists and beams, which are here supported by moulded corbels; blue-and-white ware, tiles, and a blue velvet mantel-cloth. The hearth is of squares of black and white marble. Upon it stands a copper fire-holder; behind is a cast-iron fireback adorned with an armorial subject. In the lead-glazed window are two circular panels of painted glass. Another example of a brass candelabrum, similar to the one above-mentioned, is shown by the drawing from Haarlem (page 127). It is of a type that was customary. Many such still exist in old-world rooms, suspended from high ceilings by chains or rods. Apart from their uses for purposes of illumination, they are highly successful as centre ornaments, for it will be seen how effectively they were made, with curved decorated brackets branching from shaped shafts. Patterns are various, but there are certain essentials common to all and a general resemblance between each. Thus, a particularly beautiful candelabrum in the Town Hall at Zwolle, with an image of the Virgin and pierced, leaf-like brackets, is but an elaboration of the simple familiar form. Some carry three lights only, ordinarily there are ten or twelve; while an example noticed at Haarlem, with twenty-seven candles, probably represents the extreme capacity of this old-fashioned system of lighting. Of interior features, first in importance come the fireplaces. Great thought was given to the decoration of them, the appearance of many being rich beyond description. Numerous kinds of materials were used for their adornment; brick and stone, wood, marble and slate, coloured tiles and terra-cotta, all giving value to the imposing compositions. And although the materials were so various, they were skilfully combined to produce harmonious results. Fireplaces were brought forward from the walls and not set back within them. The openings were of ample size, wide and high. The jambs, enriched with mouldings or appearing as columns, supported massive hoods that extended upwards to the ceiling. The fireplace at Maastricht (page 131) is a good specimen of the late Gothic type. It belongs to the year 1510, this date being carved on the centre scroll. Upon the sandstone jambs are worked Gothic mouldings which spring from shaped stops resting on square bases. The broad frieze is rich with carvings of angels, conventional flowers, cusps, and two shields, bearing the arms of Maastricht and Liège. The rear of the opening is lined with pressed terra-cotta tiles that exhibit a variety of designs in low relief. Against it is set an iron fireback ornamented with a heraldic device. The wooden figures on the mantel-shelf are merely placed thereon and are not inherent to the design. Details of fireplaces changed with the passing of Gothic influences, although the olden form was still retained. Classic columns, or less frequently, human figures and grotesques, were substituted for moulded jambs. They commonly supported a carved oak frieze surmounted by a projecting cornice. Such chimney-pieces are by no means rare in Holland and may generally be ascribed to the seventeenth century. One, from Leeuwarden, has already been illustrated on page 129. Another example, from Middelburg, is here given (page 133). The columns are of white marble, but the jambs behind them, together with the bases and corbels, are of slate and are decorated with strapwork patterns. The oak mantel is inlaid with bands and panels of light wood. Tiles of blue, white and yellow cover the back, and border the upright sides of the iron hearth. The chimney-piece at Amsterdam (page 130) is of an unusual pattern. It is situated in the room of the Bricklayers' Guild and is of early seventeenth-century workmanship. The opening is framed of stone. Over the mantel-shelf is a curved pediment with the arms of Amsterdam carved upon it. Fitted to the chimney-breast above is a small oval painted panel enclosed by brickwork. The fireplace from the Westerwold (page 135), now at Groningen, belongs to a later period than the preceding example. A wooden chimney-shelf and pilasters, almost black in colour, support the tapering hood. The back of the fireplace is faced with blue-and-white tiles and red bricks. A protecting fireback rests against it, while a hanger, hooked within the opening, holds the metal pot over the fire. The effect of this fireplace and its accessories, admirably decorative in themselves, is further enhanced by the pure white surrounding walls, and by the parti-coloured floor laid with red and yellow quarries. Cast-iron firebacks have been noticed in the previous illustrations. They were generally used where fires burned on open hearths. The castings are rather light and thin, and were taken from wooden models. They are ornamented with floral and heraldic subjects, or designs suggested by classical myths and bible stories. Of the four examples illustrated on pages 132 and 134, two have armorial bearings, surrounded by rich borders, cast upon them. The one from Leiden is dated 1609, and the other, from Nijmegen, 1650. Both of the remaining specimens from Jisp and Middelburg, are decorated with figure subjects, bordered by fruit and scrolls and flowers. All the work is in rather low relief. Fuel, in the form of peat or charcoal, was responsible for certain utensils in which it could be conveniently burned. One such is given on page 139. It is an iron fire-standard suited for holding peat, and was drawn in the Museum at Dordrecht. The lines of the design are good, especially to be observed in the engaged scrolls and shaping of the top. It is, withal, serviceably made. Small boxes containing fire, placed upon the floor in front of chairs, served as foot-warmers (page 148). They are of square or oval shape. The sides are frequently patterned and the lids perforated. Fires were also contained in iron pots which stood upon oak stools within the fireplaces; or they burned in little iron hearths, which were set towards the centre of the rooms, with no provision made for carrying away the smoke. The former system is exemplified by the drawing from Leeuwarden (page 137), and the latter by an illustration from a cottage at Marken (page 136). A small crane is often seen attached to the back of the fireplace. A kettle or pot rests upon it, which might, if desired, be swung over or away from the fire. The specimen here reproduced (page 136) is from Leeuwarden. It has one simple movement, that of swinging backwards and forwards. The curved arm is made of brass, and shaped to resemble a fish. Out of the mouth comes the iron kettle-holder with a small chain affixed, handy for drawing it to and fro. Allied to the crane, and used for a similar purpose, is the hanger that was suspended from the flue. The two specimens appearing on page 139 are from Middelburg, and both are constructed of iron. They can be made to hang high or low, one by means of a ratchet, and the other by a catch, which fits into pierced holes and is shown in detail. The set of fire-irons, also from Middelburg (page 139), furnishes admirable examples of useful objects, suitably adorned. The plate to which the fire-irons hang, with scallop-like indentations at its upper edge, is enriched with incised decoration, depicting a ship, trees, birds, letters, and the date of 1787. The tongs at the extreme left are so fashioned that one arm, being hollow, may be used as a blowpipe. Next in order is a ladle adapted for scooping up ashes from the hearth. Upon the flat handle is further incised ornamentation, based upon floral motives. The central object is a blowpipe, and a second pair of tongs completes the set. With the exception of some of the ends and terminations, which are of brass, these implements are made of iron, brightly polished. In the glazed tiles, inseparably associated with Delft and other places in Holland, the Dutch had admirable material for interior decoration. Some tiles were pure white; others had conventional floral forms painted upon them. Many, again, were decorated with devices derived from scriptural, nautical, rural, historical, and classical sources. Units such as these, beautiful in themselves, were capable of giving lively and gay effects when arranged together. How satisfactorily they were used will have been already observed in the fireplaces previously described. But, apart from giving value to fireplaces, they were employed in other ways. Notable rooms are to be seen whose good appearance depends primarily upon the skilful manipulation of tiles. Two such are illustrated, one in colour (opposite). They are from Hindeloopen, and are now in the Frisian Museum at Leeuwarden. The original woodwork of the coloured drawing belongs to the seventeenth century. The back of the fireplace, as well as the walls surrounding it, is faced entirely with tiles from floor to ceiling. Those towards the floor have blue and white patterns upon them; above, and in the window recess, they are white but for the narrow blue borders round the angles. These tiles were made at Makkum. Upon the floor are glazed quarries of red and black, laid in alternate colours. The room of the other illustration (page 137) dates from the eighteenth century. It has similar tiles on the walls and quarries on the floor. Floors were also laid with other coloured quarries, blue and green and yellow; while in larger houses stone and marble were employed with pleasing results. Panelling was by no means infrequently applied to interior walls. It was often marked by elaboration rather than simplicity, although there are not wanting examples of rooms wainscoted with plain framed woodwork divided into panels by stiles and rails. Of ornamental panels there are certain definite kinds. Characteristic are those adorned with linen-fold patterns. Another design that was favoured is shown in the illustration taken from Zwolle (page 138), where carved vine ornaments appear between two curved and moulded scrolls set back to back. This particular example is attributed to the beginning of the sixteenth century. At a later date round-headed arches and pilasters were introduced, such as those exemplified from Leiden on this page, as well as carved friezes and moulded cornices. It is remarkable to note the great similarity between the development of panelling in Holland and in England. The earlier patterns employed in both countries are practically identical, while Dutch seventeenth-century woodwork bears great resemblance to that of our Jacobean period. Wooden doors harmonised with the wainscot of the walls. They were divided into panels and often richly carved. Doorways were given importance by the pilasters and cornices that surrounded them. The door from Groningen (below) furnishes a seventeenth-century specimen, elaborately carved with forms peculiar to the time. The metal fittings attached to doors--locks, bolts, hinges, handles, and the like--are of good design and workmanship. Two lock-plates (page 143), from the Rijks Museum at Amsterdam, belong to the sixteenth century. They are both made of iron. One, bearing the date of 1587, is decorated with projecting ornaments; the other is adorned with applied metalwork, pierced and carved. Further examples of iron door-furniture, simply but effectively treated, are illustrated by the handle from Middelburg and the bolt from Dordrecht (page 143). A feature common to Dutch rooms is the small cupboard in the wall, wherein many and sundry articles were stored. The recess is sometimes merely covered by a curtain that may be drawn to and fro, such as can be seen at the left hand of the window in the coloured reproduction from Leeuwarden given here. But generally a wooden door was fitted to the opening. Some of these doors, with one or two panels, are quite plainly made. Others, highly decorated with carvings and metalwork, furnish examples of beautiful craftsmanship. Two are here illustrated (pages 143 and 144), which show how well and cunningly artificers in wood and metal exercised their skill. Both are of sixteenth-century workmanship, and are now in the Rijks Museum. Apart from the good wood-carving, the ironwork on each is notable. The three hinges, attached to the larger door, all have peculiarly graceful branched terminations; while the hinge of the second example is pierced and engraved with a floral pattern. The lock-plates, also, are admirably devised. The further illustration of a Hindeloopen room from Leeuwarden (page 141) is especially interesting, for around the walls are cupboard-like apartments that afforded accommodation for sleeping. They are closed by wooden doors which have open-work panels at their heads to permit the passage of air. The beds, resembling a ship's berths, are reached by flights of steps, two of which will be seen in the reproduction. These steps are movable and curiously shaped and painted, as is demonstrated by the flight in the foreground with its side boards made to imitate birds and flowers. Other old Dutch interiors--cheerful with coloured plates, tiles and quarries, shining brass and carved woodwork--furnish instances of this particular disposition of sleeping accommodation. The old furniture was of a kind that well harmonised with the fitted woodwork and other decorations of the rooms. It is not unusual to find pieces of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries amid surroundings similar to those for which they were originally intended. The rooms at Dordrecht (page 128) and Groningen (page 135) both have suitable furniture that valuably contributes to the success of the schemes. All is more or less directly useful; rooms were not crowded with objects that were neither utilitarian nor good to look upon. Most commonly occurring are chairs and tables, chests and cabinets. The earlier oak work was jointed and pegged together. It was very solidly made and ornamented in a reasonable way. Some of the large cabinets offer splendid examples of skilful handiwork, and an elaborate specimen, from Haarlem, appears on page 145. Two characteristic tables are also illustrated, one from Edam (page 145) and one from Amsterdam (page 146). In the eighteenth century it became the fashion in certain parts of Holland to heavily paint fitted and movable furniture with coloured patterns, the natural beauty of the wood being thus obscured. All kinds of objects were ornamented, and in a somewhat amateurish way. The favoured motifs were floral scrolls, little flowers, birds and animals, scriptural scenes, with pastoral and sea views. Brass was much used in the making of domestic utensils. Familiar objects for many purposes were fashioned of this material. Brightly polished and shining, they were quite in accord with the prevailing gayness of the rooms and well harmonised with the fitted woodwork, furniture, tiles and other metalwork. Fireplaces were adorned with sundry articles of brass, some being purely ornamental, others achieving some useful mission. The brass chimney-crane (page 136) belongs to this latter class, as does the fire-side set reproduced on page 147. The latter is a particularly handy contrivance, for, being movable, it can be transferred from room to room. The stand takes the form of a baluster stem which rests upon an ornamental basic tripod; it is surmounted by a circular attachment that supports the kettle. Upon three curved arms, branching outwardly, the brush and tongs and shovel are hooked. This set is of eighteenth-century workmanship. The stand is 1 foot 11-1/2 inches high, the tongs 23 inches long, the brush 21 inches long, and the shovel 23 inches long. An example of the portable foot-warmers for placing on the floor in front of chairs, such as have been already mentioned, is here illustrated (page 148). It is made of brass and has eight sides. Each upright side decorated with repoussé work, circular bosses alternating with panels of flowers. The slightly curved top has a medallion in the centre, engraved with the letters and date "i. w. hm. 1733." It is surrounded with floral scrolls, geometrically arranged, and between the patterns are pierced holes through which the heat is distributed. The candlestick (page 148), also of brass, belongs to the eighteenth century. It has two curved brackets which are adjustable, as will be seen by the hinged attachments in the illustration. The height is 18-1/4 inches and the width, from bracket to bracket, is 12-1/8 inches. Another old-fashioned object used for lighting is the brass lantern with arched top (page 148). All the three windows are surrounded by a border of floral openwork, very finely pierced with a pattern common to the eighteenth century. The fourth side, forming the back, has a panel in the centre. The cover of the warming-pan, given on page 147, furnishes an excellent specimen of perforated and engraved brasswork. The central figures represent Venus and Cupid, while interwoven with the strap and foliated ornaments are grotesque figures, beasts and birds. Each little part of the design is engraved, and around the outer margin of the pan is a Dutch inscription which embodies the date of 1602. Further well-executed piercing and engraving, but of a later date than the above, appear on the tea-caddy here illustrated (page 148). This latter object is 6 inches high and 4 inches wide. The pastille-burner (page 148) is made wholly of brass. Upon the baluster stem and circular base are rococo designs beaten-up in relief. Made of wickerwork, the coffer reproduced on page 147 is adorned with handsomely shaped and perforated brass mounts that extend around it. The corridor at Hoorn (page 149) belongs to the seventeenth century. It has a timber roof springing from the two side-walls in the form of a barrel-vault. Upon the concave surface are longitudinal and transverse ribs whose intersections are emphasised by carved bosses. The vault is supported at each side by decorated wooden brackets. Another detail associated with a place of access is the wrought-iron railing from Zierikzee (page 146). And lastly, three typical village interiors are given. Two, from Volendam (above) and Marken (page 151), have simple fireplaces faced with ordinary blue and white Dutch tiles. Another shows a room in a wooden house at Marken (page 152), the timbering of the walls being visible. But it is the old towns of Holland, rather than the villages, that hold the charms for those who sojourn in that fascinating country; towns rich in associations that unbrokenly date back to a buried and untraceable antiquity. In them history has been made. There stand the old and sober gabled buildings, silent monuments to the thoughts, ideals and ambitions of those who built them. And, clustering around the market-places where life yet centres as it did in days gone by, or reflected in still waters, the houses keep their secrets well. Sydney R. Jones. NOTE [1] "Biographical Sketches of Dutch Architects."--MSS. by J. B. Weenink. 
15678	----	generously provided by the Hearth Library, Cornell University (http://hearth.library.cornell.edu/). THE HOUSE THAT JILL BUILT, AFTER JACK'S HAD PROVED A FAILURE. A BOOK ON HOME ARCHITECTURE, WITH ILLUSTRATIONS, BY E.C. GARDNER, _Author of "Homes and How to Make Them." "Home Interiors," "Common Sense in Church Building," etc._ SPRINGFIELD, MASS.: W.F. ADAMS COMPANY, 1896. 1882, BY OUR CONTINENT PUBLISHING Co. _All rights reserved._ E.C. GARDNER, 1895. Printed and Bound by CLARK W. BRYAN COMPANY, Springfield, Mass. CONTENTS. PAGE CHAPTER I. A WISE FATHER AND A GLAD SON-IN-LAW 7 CHAPTER II. MORAL SUASION FOR MALARIAL MARSHES 20 CHAPTER III. A FIRST VISIT AND SAGE ADVICE 32 CHAPTER IV. MANY FIRES MAKE SMALL DIVIDENDS 48 CHAPTER V. WHEN THE FLOODS BEAT AND THE RAINS DESCEND 63 CHAPTER VI. THE WISDOM OF JILL IN THE KITCHEN 78 CHAPTER VII BE HONEST AND KEEP WARM 90 CHAPTER VIII TRUTH, POETRY AND ROOFS 103 CHAPTER IX. PROFESSIONAL ETIQUETTE--BLINDS AND BESSIE 115 CHAPTER X. MORE QUESTIONS OF FIRE AND WATER 128 CHAPTER XI. WHAT SHALL WE STAND UPON? 140 CHAPTER XII. FROM MATHEMATICS TO ANCIENT BRIC-A-BRAC 151 CHAPTER XIII. ECONOMY, CLEANLINESS, AND HEALTH 166 CHAPTER XIV. SAFE FLUES AND MORE LIGHT 177 CHAPTER XV. A DANGEROUS RIVAL 189 CHAPTER XVI. A NEW WAY OF GETTING UP STAIRS AND A NEW MISSIONARY FIELD 203 CHAPTER XVII. THE RIGHT SIDE OF PAINT, A PROTEST AND A PROMISE 221 CHAPTER XVIII. THE HOUSE FINISHED AND THE HOME BEGUN 233 CHAPTER XIX. TEN YEARS AFTER 250 CHAPTER XX. A DOUBLE CONCLUSION 258 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. _From Drawings by the Author_. PAGE 1. "COUSIN GEORGE'S EXTERIOR" 11 2. COUSIN GEORGE'S FIRST FLOOR 14 3. COUSIN GEORGE'S SECOND FLOOR 15 4. "WARMTH IS BEAUTY" 21 5. A HIDDEN FOE 23 6. A BURIED GRIDIRON 24 7. THE PROTECTING "CUT-OFF" 25 8. A "CROSS-SECTION" PROPHECY 28 9. HEAT FROM ALL SIDES 30 10. AUNT MELVILLE'S AMBITION 33 11. NO PLACE FOR THE BED 36 12. ENLARGED BY DESTRUCTION 37 13. A SLIGHT ADDITION 39 14. GROUND FLOOR OF AUNT MELVILLE'S AMBITION 42 15. FIRST FLOOR OF AUNT MELVILLE'S AMBITION 43 16. A SECURE OUTLOOK 49 17. MINED AND COUNTERMINED 52 18. A DORMER OF BURNED CLAY 55 19. THE TOPMOST PEAK 59 20. WILL'S MASTERPIECE 65 21. THE FIRST FLOOR OF WILL'S MASTERPIECE 73 22. THE SECOND FLOOR OF WILL'S MASTERPIECE 75 23. THE OUTSIDE OF TED'S HOUSE 79 24. JILL'S KITCHEN IN BLACK AND WHITE 83 25. THE FIRST FLOOR OF TED'S HOUSE 88 26. THE POOR BUT MODEST ATTORNEY'S COTTAGE 91 27. A DOUBLE TEAM 94 28. WARMTH UNDER THE WINDOW 96 29. STEAM PIPES BESIDE THE FIREPLACE 97 30. THE ATTORNEY'S FLOOR PLAN 101 31. NO CONCEALMENT OR DISGUISE 105 32. WITH A MULLION AND WITHOUT 110 33. JACK'S ARCHITECTURAL PHRENOLOGY 112 34. THE HAT MAKES THE MAN 113 35. THE CONTRIBUTION OF BESSIE'S FATHER 117 36. THE FIRST FLOOR OF THE CONTRIBUTION 123 37. A GARGOYLE 130 38. A CHOICE OF GUTTERS 131 39. A SIMPLE RECESS 133 40. IN THE MIDDLE RANK 135 41. THE WORTH OF A COSY COTTAGE 137 42. A PROMISE OF SOCIAL SUCCESS 141 43. A REASONABLE HOPE 143 44. FLOORS AS THEY ARE: FLOORS AS THEY MIGHT BE 145 45. BRICKS AND BOULDERS ON GRANITE UNDERPINNING 149 46. NOT BRILLIANT, BUT IMPRESSIVE 153 47. WOODEN RICHNESS 155 48. NO WASTE OF WOOD 156 49. FIRST FLOOR OF THE PROMISE 158 50. SECOND FLOOR OF THE PROMISE 159 51. NO PLACE FOR SECRET FOES 167 52. SAFE AND SAVING FLUES 179-80 53. A PICTURE IN GLASS OVER THE FIREPLACE 181 54. GLASS OF MANY COLORS, SHAPES AND SIZES 183 55. SHELVES IN THE MIDDLE, CUPBOARDS ABOVE AND BELOW 185 56. "THE OAKS" 191 57. OUTSIDE BARRIERS 195 58. INSIDE BARRIERS 196 59. COMMON UGLINESS--SIMPLE GRACE 197 60. FIRST FLOOR PLAN OF "THE OAKS" 201 61. LOOKING TOWARD SUNSET 205 62. NEAR THE TURNING-POINT 207 63. A CHOICE OF BALUSTERS 209 64. THE BIG FIREPLACE IN THE KEEPING-ROOM 211 65. ONE WAY TO BEGIN 213 66. A BROADSIDE OF AN EASY ASCENT 215 67. A DIVIDING SCREEN AT THE FOOT OF THE STAIRS 219 68. BITS OF CORNICES 223 69. MOULDINGS FAIR TO SEE, BUT HARD TO KEEP CLEAN 225 70. FRAGMENTS OF ARCHITRAVES 227 71. A CHOICE OF WAINSCOTS 229 72. WOOD PANELS FOR WALLS AND CEILINGS, WITH IRREGULARITIES IN LEATHER, PAINT AND PAPER 231 73. THE HOUSE THAT JILL BUILT 235 74. THE FIRST FLOOR OF THE HOUSE THAT JILL BUILT 239 75. THE SECOND FLOOR OF THE HOUSE THAT JILL BUILT 241 76. THE EAST END OF JILL'S DINING-ROOM 243 77. A CASTLE IN SPAIN 263 _Also Initials, Tail-Pieces, etc._ INDEX OF SUBJECTS. PAGE BUILDING SITES 16 BRICKS 46, 53, 58 BLINDS 116 CHIMNEYS 179 CONTRACT WORK 233 COMPETITIVE PLANS 237 DOORS 194 FIREPROOF CONSTRUCTION 54 FALSE CHIMNEY-PIECE 98 FIREPLACES 134 FLOORS 140 FASHION 224 GUTTERS 129 HEATING 97, 132 HEIGHT OF ROOMS 138 HARD WOOD 197 INTERIOR FINISH 221 KITCHEN ARRANGEMENTS 81, 125 PLUMBING 166, 177 PANTRIES 186, 189 PAINT 223 ROOFS 69, 113 STAIRS 38, 214 STAINED GLASS 38, 183 TERRA COTTA 61 UNDER-DRAINING 24 VENTILATING FLUES 178 WINDOWS 110, 183 WOODEN BUILDINGS 51 PREFACE TO THE REVISED EDITION. On a recent visit to the young woman whose experiences and observations are contained in this book, I was greatly pleased to find her zeal and interest in domestic architecture unabated. She sees that there have been changes and improvements in the art of house building, but declares that while some of her opinions and suggestions of ten years ago have been approved and accepted, it is still true that by far the greater number of those who plan and build houses are guided by transient fashion, thoughtless conservatism and a silly seeking for sensational results, rather than by truth, simplicity and common sense. She has no doubt that her daughter, Bessie, will study and practice domestic architecture, and naturally expects the houses of the future to contain charms and comforts of which we have as yet only the faintest conception. E.C. GARDNER. _Springfield, Mass., November, 1895._ INTRODUCTION "MR. E.C. Gardner, architect, has consented to write us a series of articles upon house-building," said one of his associates to the editor of OUR CONTINENT a few months since. "What do you think of it?" "We have no sort of use for such a thing," replied the editor. "There are treatises enough professing to instruct people how to build houses. You can't make every man his own carpenter any more than you can make him his own lawyer. More's the pity." "But I thought you said you wanted some one who had sense enough to put a thoroughly capable and accomplished housewife's notions of what a house should be into readable prose?" "So I did," responded the editor, "and I still want it, and am likely to want it for a long time. I do not wish articles on _House_-building but on _Home_-building, and you will never get such from an architect." "Don't be too sure of that," said the other, who had had a taste of the writer's quality before. "Suppose he should wish to try it?" "Well,--let him," was the grumbled assent. The editor did not believe in architects. He had built one or two houses that did well enough on paper, but were simply appalling in their unfitness when he came to try to adapt the occupants to the earthly tabernacles which had been erected for their use and enjoyment. He had read house-building books, examined plans and discoursed with architects until he verily believed that the whole business was a snare and a delusion. After this experience he had settled down to the serious belief that the best way to build a house was to erect first a square building containing but one room, and then add on rooms as the occupants learned their needs or the family increased in numbers. In this way, he stoutly maintained, had been erected all those old houses, whose irregularity of outline and frequent surprises in interior arrangement never cease to charm. He asserted boldly that a man's house ought to grow around him like an oyster's-shell, and should fit him just as perfectly; in fact, that it should be created, not built. From architects and their works he prayed devoutly to be delivered, and having theretofore illustrated that part of the proverb which avers that "fools build houses," he declared himself determined thenceforth only to illustrate the latter-part of the proverb:--"and wise men live in them." Having, however, became sponsor in some sort for what Mr. Gardner might write, he was bound to give attention to it. Very much to his surprise, he found it instead of a thankless task, a most agreeable entertainment. Seldom, indeed, have wit and wisdom been so happily blended as in these pages. The narrative that runs through the whole constitutes a silver thread of merriment on which the pearls of sense are strung with lavish freedom. Every page is sure to contain the subject-matter for a hearty laugh close-linked with a lesson that may well be conned by the most serious-minded. The philosophy of home-building and home-improving is expounded with a subtlety of humor and an aptness of illustration as rare as they are relishable. There are three classes of people to whom this little volume with its quaint descriptions and wise suggestions will be peculiarly welcome. _First_--Those who contemplate, at some time, the building of a home. It matters not whether it is to be humble or palatial, "The House that Jill Built" will be found to contain not only the most valuable suggestions, but a humorous gaiety that will be sure to add pleasure to this duty. _Second_--Those who desire at any time to enlarge, modify or improve the homes in which they live; for they will find very forcibly illustrated in its pages the principles which should govern such modification. _Third_--Those who, like the writer hereof, have suffered in purse and comfort from the lack of such a pleasant and philosophical treatise, and who will be glad to see how their blunders might have been avoided. "The House that Jill Built" is founded on the rock of common sense. It does not profess to tell the prospective builder how to be his own architect and carpenter; it does not fit him out with a plan ready made and tested--by somebody else: but deftly and easily it leads him to think about the essential elements of the home he desires until, almost unconsciously, he finds himself prepared to give such directions to an honest architect as will secure for his home, convenience, safety and that peculiar fitness which is the chief element of beauty in domestic architecture. It is not so much for what is taught as for what is suggested that the book is valuable. What the author has written is perhaps not more remarkable than the peculiar art with which he compels the reader to think for himself. "The House that Jill Built" may fairly be said to take the first place among the many works that are designed to make our domestic architecture what it ought to be--the art by which the house-builder may erect a home adapted to his needs, commensurate with his means, in harmony with its surroundings and conducive to the health and comfort of its occupants. What the author's pen has so well described his pencil has illustrated with equal happiness. In penance for the lack of faith displayed at the outset and in hearty approval of the pages that follow, the Editor has written these words. A.W. TOURGÉE. PHILADELPHIA, Oct., 1882. THE HOUSE THAT JILL BUILT. CHAPTER I. A WISE FATHER AND A GLAD SON-IN-LAW. Among the wedding-presents was a small white envelope containing two smaller slips of paper. On one of these, which was folded around the other, was written, "A NEW HOUSE, FROM FATHER." The enclosed slip was a bank-check, duly stamped and endorsed. Did any old wizard's magic-box ever hold greater promise in smaller compass! Certainly not more than the bride saw in imagination as she read the figures upon the crisp bit of tissue. Walls, roof and stately chimneys arose in pleasant pictures before her mental vision. There were broad windows taking in floods of sunshine; fireplaces that glowed with living flames and never smoked; lazy lounging places and cosy corners for busy work or quiet study; sleepy bed-rooms; a kitchen that made housework the finest art and the surest science, and oh, such closets, such stairways, such comforts! such defiance of the elements, such security against cold and heat, against fire, flood and tempest! such economy! such immunity from all the ills that domestic life is heir to, from intractable servants to sewer-gas! If some ardent esthete had arrested her flight of fancy by asking whether she found room for soul-satisfying beauty, she would have dropped from her air-castle, landing squarely upon her feet, and replied that if her house was comfortable and told no lies it would be beautiful enough for her--which was saying a great deal, however interpreted, for she loved beauty, as all well-balanced mortals ought, and she would have been conspicuously out of place in a house that was not beautiful. Perhaps I ought to explain that the house that Jack built, intending to establish Jill as its mistress when it should be completed, had proved most unsatisfactory to that extremely practical young woman. In consequence, she had obstinately refused to name the happy day till the poor, patient fellow had kept bachelor's hall nearly a year. At last, in consideration of an unqualified permission to "make the house over" to any extent, the rough place that threatened to upset them was made smooth. Her father's present, wisely withheld till peace was declared, left nothing to be desired, and they started on their wedding journey as happy as if they owned the universe. This excursion, however, came near being a failure from the sentimental standpoint, because, wherever Jill discovered a house that gave any outward sign of inward grace, it must be visited and examined as to its internal arrangements. Naturally this struck Jack as an unromantic diversion, but he soon caught the spirit, and after much practice gave his salutatory address with apparent eagerness: "My wife and I happen to be passing through town and have been struck by the appearance of your house. Will you kindly allow us to have a glimpse of the interior?" The request was invariably granted, for nothing is more gratifying than the fame of having the "finest house in town." Unhappily the interiors were never satisfactory to Jill, and her valedictory to the owners of the striking houses seldom went beyond thanks for their courtesy. "We visited several houses on our trip," she observed to her father-- "Several hundred," said Jack-- "But were disappointed in them all. Many of them must have cost more than ours will cost, but the money seemed to us foolishly spent." "Yes," said her husband, "we concluded that the chief plank in the platform of the architects and builders was 'Millions for display--not one cent for comfort.'" "Well, Jack, we have learned one thing on our travels--where _not_ to look for the plans of our house." A box of letters from her dear five hundred friends awaited Jill's return, and a whole afternoon was devoted to them. Each letter contained some allusion to the new house. At least ten conveyed underscored advice of the most vital importance, which, if not followed, would demoralize the servants, distress her husband and ultimately destroy her domestic peace. Taken at a single dose, the counsel was confusing, to say the least; but Jill read it faithfully, laid it away for future reference, and gave the summary to her husband somewhat as follows: "It appears, Jack, my dear, to be absolutely indispensable to our future happiness that the house shall front north, south, east and west." "Let's build it on a pivot." "We must not have large halls to keep warm in cold weather, and we _must_ have large halls 'for style.' The stories must not be less than eleven nor more than nine feet high. It must be carpeted throughout and all the floors must be bare. It must be warmed by steam and hot water and furnaces and fireplaces and base-burners and coal grates." "We shan't have to go away from home to get into purgatory, shall we?" "Hush! The walls of the rooms must be calcimined, painted, frescoed and papered; they must be dyed in the mortar, finished with leather, with tiles, with tapestry and with solid wood panels. There must be blinds--outside blinds, awnings, inside shutters, rolling blinds, Venetian shades and no blinds at all. There must be wide, low-roofed piazzas all around the house, so that we can live out of doors in the summer, and on no account must the sun be excluded from the windows of the first story by piazza roofs. At least eight patent sanitary plumbing articles, and as many cooking ranges, are each the only one safe and fit to be used. The house must be high and low--" "I'm Jack and you shall be game--" [Illustration: COUSIN GEORGE'S EXTERIOR.] "It must be of bricks, wood and stone, separately and in combination; it must be Queen Anne, Gothic, French, Japanesque and classic American, and it must be painted all the colors of an autumn landscape." "Well, there's one comfort," said Jack; "you haven't paid for this advice, so you won't be obliged to take it in order to save it." "I should think not, indeed, but that isn't the trouble. These letters are from my special friends, wise, practical people, who know everything about building and housekeeping, and they speak from solemn conviction based on personal experience." "Moral: When the doctors differ, do as you please." Three of the letters, reserved for the last on account of their unusual bulk, contained actual plans. One was from an old school friend who had married an architect and couldn't afford to send a wedding present, but offered the plans as a sort of apology, privately feeling that they would be the most valuable of all the gifts; the second was from a married brother in Kansas who had just built himself a new house, and thought his sister could not do better than use the same plans, which he had "borrowed" from his architect; and the third was from Aunt Melville, who was supposed (by herself) to hold the family destiny in the hollow of her hand. "For once," she wrote, "your father has done a most sensible thing. Every girl ought to have a present of a new house on her wedding-day. You were very silly to make such a fuss about the house that Jack built, for it is a very stylish-looking house, even if it isn't quite so convenient inside; but of course you can improve upon it, and fortunately I can contribute just what you need--the plans of the house that your Uncle Melville built for George last year. It isn't as large as it ought to be, but it will suit you and Jack admirably. You must tell me how much you have to spend. This house can be very prettily built for eight or ten thousand dollars, and if you haven't as much as that you must ask for more. The hall is decidedly stylish, and, with the library at one side and drawing-room at the other, you will have just room enough for your little social parties. The room behind the drawing-room Jack needs for his private use, his study, office, smoking-room or whatever he calls it--a place to keep his gun, his top-boots, his fishing-rod and his horrid pipes; where he can revel to his heart's content in the hideous disorder of a 'man's room,' pile as much rubbish as he likes on the table, lock the doors and defy the rest of the household on house-cleaning days. The dining-room is good and the kitchen arrangements are perfect. George's wife has changed servants but three times since they began housekeeping, nearly a year ago, which certainly proves that there is every possible convenience for doing work easily. The outside of the house is not wholly satisfactory. There should be a tower, and you must put one on somewhere." [Illustration: COUSIN GEORGE'S FIRST FLOOR.] [Illustration: COUSIN GEORGE'S SECOND FLOOR.] Then followed several pages of advice about furnishings and a postscript announced that Colonel Livingston was charmed with the house and would probably build one like it for Clara. The charm of Aunt Melville's advice lay in its abundant variety. It was new every morning and fresh every evening. The latest thing was always the best. The plans of to-morrow were certain to be better than those of yesterday. Jill therefore made a careful study of the first installment, not doubting that others of superior merit would be forthcoming. She found many things to approve. The hall promised comfort and good cheer, whether stylish or not. The vista across through the parlor bay and the wide library window would give a pleasant freedom and breadth. The stairs were well placed, the second landing with its window of stained glass being especially attractive, whether as a point of observation or as a cosy retreat, itself partly visible from the hall below. Every chamber had a closet of its own, not to mention several extra ones, and there was a place for every bed. "As for your sanctum, Jack, I don't at all approve. It will be hard enough, I've no doubt, to keep you from lapsing into barbarism, and I shall never allow you to set up a den, a regular Bluebeard's room, all by yourself. I promise never to put your table in order, but I wouldn't trust the best of men with the care of a closet or a bureau-drawer for a single week, much less of an entire room with two closets, a case of drawers, a cupboard and a chimney-piece. But the chief fault of the plan is that it doesn't happen to suit our lot. The entrances are not right, the outlooks are not right, the chimneys are not right." "Turn it around." "And spoil it? No; I learned a second lesson on our journey, and it was well worth what it cost. We shall never find a plan made for somebody else that will suit us." "Not good enough?" "It isn't a question of goodness--it's a question of fitness. Neither Cousin George's, nor any other house I ever saw, is precisely what we need." "Moral: Draw your own plans." "We must, and we'll begin to-morrow." "Why not this evening?" "We couldn't see." "Light the gas." "Oh, but we must make the plans out of doors on the lot. We shall then know where every room will be, every door and especially every window. We must fix the centre of the sitting-room in the most commanding situation, and be certain that the dining-room windows do not look straight into somebody's wood-shed. Then, if there are any views of blue hills and forests far away over the river, I shall be uncomfortable if we do not get the full benefit of them." "Don't you expect to have anything interesting inside the house?" "Except my husband? Oh yes! but it would be a wicked waste of opportunities not to accept the blessings provided for us without money and without price, which only require us to stand in the right places and open our hearts and windows to receive them." Jill's second lesson was indeed worth learning, even if it cost a wedding journey. Every house must suit its own ground and fit its own household, otherwise it can neither be comfortable nor beautiful. The next morning, armed with a bundle of laths, sharpened at one end, and equipped with paper, pencil and tape-line, the prospective house-builders proceeded to lay out, not the house but the plan. They planted doors, windows, fireplaces and closets, stoves, lounges, easy-chairs and bedsteads, as if they were so many seeds that would grow up beside the laths on which their respective names were written and bear fruit each according to its kind. Later in the day a high step-ladder was introduced, from the top of which Jill scanned the surrounding country, while Jack stood ready to catch her if she fell. The neighbors were intensely interested, and their curiosity was mixed with indignation when, toward night, a man was discovered cutting down two of the rock-maple trees that Jill's grandfather planted more than fifty years before, and which stood entirely beyond any possible location of the new house. "This evening, Jack, you must write for the architect to come." "I thought you were going to make your own plans." "I have made them, or rather I have laid them out on the ground and in the air. I know what I want and how I want it. Now we must have every particular set down in black and white." Jack wrote accordingly. The architect was too busy to respond at once in person, but sent a letter referring to certain principles that reach somewhat below the lowest foundation-stones and above the tops of the tallest chimneys. [Illustration] CHAPTER II. MORAL SUASION FOR MALARIAL MARSHES. "You are quite right," the architect wrote, "to fix the plan of your house on the lot before it is made on paper, provided first the lot is a good one. Nothing shows the innate perversity of mankind more forcibly than the average character of the sites chosen for human habitations in cities, in villages and in the open country. Or does it rather indicate the instinctive struggle for supremacy over nature? The 'dear old nurse' is most peaceably inclined toward us, yet we shall never be satisfied till all the valleys are exalted and the hills laid low. Not because we object to hills and valleys--quite the contrary; but we must show our strength and daring. Nobody wants the North Pole, but we are furious to have a breach made in the wall that surrounds it. If we discover a mighty primeval forest we straightway grind our axes to cut it down; an open prairie we plant with trees. When we find ourselves in an unclean, malarious bog, instead of taking the short cut out, shaking the mud from our feet and keeping clear of it forever after, we plunge in deeper still and swear by all the bones of our ancestors that we will not only walk through it dry-shod, but will build our homes in the midst of it and keep them clean and sweet and dry. The good mother beckons to us with her sunshine and whispers with her fragrant breezes that on the other side of the river or across the bay the land is high and dry, that just beyond the bluffs are the sunny slopes where she expected us to build our houses, and, like saucy children as we are, we say that is the very reason we prefer to go somewhere else. [Illustration: WARMTH IS BEAUTY.] [Illustration: A HIDDEN FOE.] "Now, if the particular spot of earth on which you expect to set up the temple of your home is not well adapted to that sacred purpose, think a bit before you commence digging. If it is low, wet and difficult of drainage; if the surface water or the drains from adjacent lands have no outlet except across it; if its size and shape compel your house to stand so near your neighbor on the south that he takes all the sunshine and gives you the odors of his dinner and the conversation of his cook in exchange; if there are no pleasant outlooks; if it is shaded by trees owned by somebody who will not be persuaded to cut them down for love nor money--by all means turn it into a fish-pond, a sheep-pasture or a public park. You can never build upon it a satisfactory home. Perhaps it is within five minutes' walk of the post-office and on the same street with Mrs. Adoniram Brown, and these considerations outweigh all others. In that case there is no help for you. You must make the best of it as it is. [Illustration: A BURIED GRIDIRON.] "If you have a suspicion that the ground is naturally wet, that it contains hidden springs or conceals an impervious basin, making in effect a pool of standing water underground, the first necessity is a clean outlet--not a sewer--low enough to underdrain the lot at least a foot and a-half below the bottom of the cellar. Having found the clean outlet, lay small drain tiles, two or three inches in diameter, under the entire house and for several feet all around it, like a big gridiron. When this is buried under one or two feet of clean gravel or sand you will have a permanently dry plot of ground to build upon. The same treatment will be effective if the ground is "springy." But there must be a "cut-off" encircling the house. This you can make by digging a trench a foot wide, reaching down to the drain tiles, and filling it nearly to the top with loose stones or coarse gravel, the surface of the ground being graded to slope sharply toward the trench. The surface water between it and the house, and any moisture creeping toward the house from without, will then be caught in this porous trap and fall to the gridiron. [Illustration: THE PROTECTING "CUT-OFF."] "It is possible, theoretically, to build an underground cellar so tight that it may be lifted up on posts and used for a water-tank, or set afloat like a compartment-built iron steamer. Such walls may be necessary under certain circumstances. They may be necessary for cellars that are founded in swamps, in salt marshes below the level of the sea, and in old river-beds, where the original iniquity of the standing water is made still more iniquitous by the inevitable foulness of the washing from streets and the unclean refuse from sinks and back doors. But for buildings that have four independent walls, with room enough for a man to ride around his own house in a wheelbarrow without trespassing on his neighbors, and which are not hopelessly depressed below all their surroundings, it is better to use a little moral suasion on the land itself than to spend one's resources in a defiant water-proof construction. Instead of drain tiles, small stones covered with a thin layer of hay or straw before being buried in the sand may be used if more economical. "If you cannot find the clean outlet for these buried drains or tiles below the level of the cellar bottom, then raise the cellar, house and all. No matter if you are accused of having a 'stuck up' house--better be stuck up than stuck in the mud. Raise it till the entire cellar is well above the level of thorough drainage. If this happens to carry it above the surface of the ground, set the house on posts and hang the cellar under the floor like a work-bag under a table or the basket to a balloon. "The foundation walls must indeed touch solid bottom and extend below the action of frost; but if the wall above the gridiron and below the paving of the cellar is of hard stones, or very hard bricks laid in cement, there will be little risk from rising moisture. "After all, the chief danger is not from underground springs, from clean surface water or an occasional rising of the floods, but from the unclean wastes that in our present half-civilized state are constantly going out of our homes to poison and pollute the earth and air around them." "Half-civilized indeed!" said Jack, interrupting the reading of the letter. "Besides, he is premature as well as impertinent. He doesn't know but the house will stand on a granite boulder." "I suppose he intends to warn us, and I am not certain that our lot is as dry as it ought to be. At all events we will have some holes dug in different places and see if any water comes into them." "Of course it will. Haven't we just had the 'equinoctial'? The ground is full of water everywhere." "If it is full this spring it will be full every spring. We may as well order the drain tiles." "It shall be done," said Jack. "Now let us have the second proviso. I hope it will be shorter than the first." "And, secondly," Jill continued reading, "provided you know what your house is for. It is my conviction that of all the people who carefully plan and laboriously build themselves houses, scarcely one in ten could give a radical, intelligent reason for building them. To live in, of course; but how to live is the question, and why. As they have been in the habit of living? As their neighbors live? As they would like to live? As they ought to live? Is domestic comfort and well-being the chief motive? It is not, usually; hence, there are in the world a great many more houses than homes." "Oh, bother the preaching! It's all true, but we don't happen to need it. When is he coming?" "Next week, and he hopes we shall have 'some general idea of what we want.' How very condescending! We know precisely what we want, as I can easily show him." [Illustration: A "CROSS-SECTION" PROPHECY.] Jill accordingly produced a fresh sheet of "cross-section" paper, on whose double plaid lines the most helpless tyro in drawing can make a plan with mathematical accuracy provided he can count ten, and on this began to draw the plan of the first floor, expounding as she drew. "If we call the side of the house which is next the street the front, the main entrance must be at the east side, because we need the whole of the south side for our living rooms. You know the view toward the southwest is the finest we shall have, especially from the chambers." "How do I know? I didn't climb the step-ladder." "And we must have a large bay window directly on that corner. The hall must run through the house crosswise, with the stairs on the west side of the house. As there is nothing to be seen in this direction except the white walls and green blinds of the parsonage, the windows on the stair-landing shall have stained glass. The dining-room will be at the north side of the hall, with plenty of eastern windows, and behind that the kitchen with windows at opposite sides. But you wouldn't understand the beauty of my kitchen arrangements now. By-and-by, when you are wiser, I will explain them. Do you like a fireplace in the hall, Jack?" "I don't know as I do. Do you?" "Of course! certainly." "I shall be of all men most miserable without one. Can't we have two?" "Perhaps so; but first let me read you Cousin Bessie's letter: MY DEAREST JILL: I'm perfectly delighted to hear about the new house. It will be an immense success. I _know_ it will--you are so wise and so _practical_. How I _shall_ enjoy visiting you! It is delightful to build houses now. Everybody thinks so much more of the beautiful than they used to. Some of my friends have the _loveliest_ rooms. The tones are _so_ harmonious, the decorations so _exquisite_! Such sympathetic feeling and spiritual unity! I _wish_ you could see Kitty Kane's hall. It isn't bigger than a bandbox, but there's the _cunningest_ little fireplace in one corner, with real antique andirons and the quaintest old Dutch tiles. They never make a fire in it; couldn't if they wanted to--it smokes so. But it is _so_ lovely and gives the hall such a sweet expression. You _will_ forgive me, won't you, Jill, dear? but you know you are _so_ practical, and I _do_ hope you won't forget the esthetic needs of home life. Your loving cousin, BET." "Let's give up the hall fireplace," said Jack. [Illustration: HEAT FROM ALL SIDES.] "By no means; our hall is large and needs a fireplace--one that will not smoke and will warm not only the hall in very cold weather, but the whole house when it isn't quite cold enough for steam. The sides and back will be of iron with an air-chamber behind them, into which fresh air will be brought from out of doors and come out well warmed at the sides." (Jill's idea was something like the above figure for the plan.) "It will be a capital ventilator, too, for the centre of the house. There will be a damper in the hearth to let the ashes down into the ash-pit. I suppose a stove would answer, but this will be better because it won't have to be blacked, and it will last as long as the house." "How will it look standing out there all alone by itself?" "Haven't I told you, my dear, that whatever _is_ well looks well?" "Yes, but it takes a mighty faith to believe it, and I'm not even a mustard-seed. What is the little room in the southwest corner for?" "That is the library, and for an ordinary family it is large enough. It is twelve feet by fourteen. It will hold three or four thousand books, a table, a writing-desk, a lounge and three or four easy chairs. More room would spoil the privacy which belongs to a library and make it a sort of common sitting-room. Moreover, by drawing aside the portières and opening the doors we can make it a part of the large room when we wish to; and, on the other hand, when they are closed and the bay window curtains drawn, instead of one large room we shall have three separate apartments for three solitary misanthropes, for three _tête-a-têtes_, or for three incompatible groups, not counting the hall--no, nor the stair-landing, which will be a capital place for a quiet--" "Flirtation." At this point they were interrupted by a telegram from Aunt Melville, begging them not to begin on George's plan, as she had found something much more satisfactory. CHAPTER III. A FIRST VISIT AND SAGE ADVICE. They didn't begin to build, from Cousin George's nor from any other plan, for many weeks. Until the new house should be completed, Jill had agreed to commence housekeeping in the house that Jack built, without making any alterations in it, only reserving the privilege of finding all the fault she pleased to Jack privately, in order, as she said, to convince him that it would be impossible for them to be permanently happy in such a house. "I supposed," said Jack, with a groan, "that my company would make you blissfully happy in a cave or a dug-out." "So it would, if we were bears--both of us. As we are sufficiently civilized, taken together, to prefer artificial dwellings, it will be much better for us to find out what we really need in a home by actual experiment for a year or two. You know everybody who builds one house for himself always wishes he could build another to correct the mistakes of the first." "Yes, and when he has done it probably finds worse blunders in the second. Still, I'm open to conviction, and after our late architectural tour perhaps my house won't seem in comparison so totally depraved." [Illustration: AUNT MELVILLE'S AMBITION.] When they visited it, preparatory to setting up their household gods--Jack's bachelor arrangements being quite inadequate to the new order of things--Jack, with a flourish, threw the highly ornamental front door wide open. Jill walked solemnly in, and, looking neither to the right nor the left, went straight up stairs. "Hello!" Jack called after her, "what are you going up stairs for?" "I supposed you expected everybody to go to the second floor," said Jill, looking over the bannister, "or you wouldn't have set the stairs directly across the front entrance." "I do, of course," Jack responded, following three steps at a time. "And now will you please signify your royal pleasure as to apartments?" "Oh, yes! The first requisite is a room with at least one south window." "Here it is. A southerly window and a cloudy sky--two windows, in fact. And look here: see what a glorious closet. It goes clear up to the ceiling." "It isn't a closet at all; only a little cupboard. It wouldn't hold one-half of your clothes nor a tenth part of mine. And there's no fireplace in the room--not even a hole for a stovepipe." "Furnace, my dear. We shall be warmed from the regions below. There's the register." "I see. But where shall the bed stand? On these two sides it would come directly in front of a window; on this side there isn't room between the two doors; on that, there's the 'set bowl'--I hate 'set bowls'--and the furnace register in the floor." [Illustration: NO PLACE FOR THE BED.] "That's so. I never had any bed in this room. Try the dining-room chamber; that has a south window. The bed can stand on the north side and the dressing table over in the other corner." "Yes, in the dark, with a window behind my back. Oh! Jack, why didn't you get a wife before you planned your house?" "I did try." "You did! You never mentioned it to me before. What is this little room for?" "Why, nothing in particular. It came so, I suppose--part of the hall, you know; but it wouldn't be of any use in the hall, so I made a room of it. It will hold a cot bed if we should happen to have a house full of company." "It will never be needed for that with three other guest rooms; but I see what can be done. You know I promised not to make any alterations; but destruction isn't alteration, and as this little room is beside the front chamber, with only the little cupboards between, a part of the partition between the rooms can be destroyed. There will be no need of a door; a portière will be better, and I can use the small room for a dressing-room and closet. So _that_ is nicely arranged; and while you are marking where the partition is to be cut away I will explore the first story." [Illustration: ENLARGED BY DESTRUCTION.] Now, the stairs were built in a very common fashion, having a sharp turn at the top, which made the steps near the balustrade exceedingly steep and narrow. Jill's foot slipped on the top step and down she went, feet foremost, never stopping till she reached the hall floor below. Jack, hearing the commotion, ran to the rescue, caught his foot in the carpet and came tumbling after, with twice as much noise and not half as much grace. Happily the staircase was well padded under the carpet, and finding Jill unhurt as well as himself, Jack helped her to rise and coolly remarked: "You certainly can't find any fault with the stairs, Jill, dear. If there had been one of those square landings midway it would have taken twice as long to come down. I--I had them made so on purpose. Will you walk into my parlor?" They went in and sat down in easy-chairs. "I suppose," said Jill, "that our native land contains about a million houses with stairs like these and just such halls--if people will persist in calling them 'halls,' when they are only little narrow, dark, uncomfortable entries. If we were going to make any alterations in this house--which we are not, only destructions--- I should take these out, cut them in two in the middle, double them up, straighten the crook at the top and shove them outside the house, letting the main roof drop down to cover them. Then I would make a large landing at the turn, large enough for a wide seat, a few book shelves and a pretty window. This could be of stained glass, unless the view outside is more interesting than the window itself. The merit of a stained-glass window," Jill observed, very wisely, "is that the sunlight makes a beautiful picture of it inside the house during the day, and the same thing, still more beautiful, is thrown out into the world by the evening lamps, and the darker the night the brighter the picture. After the stairs were moved out, the little hall, if joined by a wide doorway, to the room we are now in would become of some value. There is no grate in this room, and a chimney might be built in the outer wall, with a fireplace opposite the wide doorway. Then, taken all together, we should have a very pretty sitting-room. I shouldn't call that an alteration--should you, Jack?--only an addition." [Illustration: A SLIGHT ADDITION.] "Certainly not. Tearing down partitions, taking out plumbing, building a few chimneys, moving stairways, and such little things, can't be called 'alterations'--oh, no." "And the house will be worth so much more when you come to sell it." "Of course. But why do you call this a 'sitting-room?' It wouldn't be possible to sell a house that has no parlor; besides this is marked 'parlor' on the plan." "I prefer the spirit of the plan to the letter of it. This is the pleasantest room--almost the only pleasant room on this floor. It is sunny and convenient, it looks out upon the street and across the lawn, and whatever it is labeled it will _be_ our common every-day sitting-room. For similar reasons we will take the chamber over it for our own room." "What becomes of our hospitality if we keep the best for ourselves?" "What becomes of our common sense if we make ourselves uncomfortable the year round in order to make a guest a little less uncomfortable over night. I try to love my neighbor as myself; I can't love him three hundred and sixty-five times as well. Now, if you are rested, we will go and see if the architect has come." He had not arrived, but they found a ponderous package of plans from Aunt Melville, with an explanatory note, a letter from Cousin Bessie admonishing Jill that her new home ought to be "a perfect poem, pervaded and perfumed by a rare feeling of tender longing and homely aspiration," and another from her father's oldest sister. [Illustration: GROUND FLOOR OF AUNT MELVILLE'S AMBITION.] [Illustration: FIRST FLOOR OF AUNT MELVILLE'S AMBITION.] "For fifty years," Aunt Jerusha wrote, "I have lived in what would now be called an old-fashioned house, though it was new enough when I came to it, and I always think of the Scripture saying when I hear about the many inventions that men have sought out and are putting into houses now-a-days. The danger is not so much from the inventions themselves as from what they lead to. They promise great things, but I've learned to be suspicious of anything or anybody that makes large promises. I've learned, too, that realities sometimes go by contraries as well as dreams. The poorest folks are often the richest, and the greatest saving often turns out to be the greatest waste. Air-tight stoves saved the wood-pile, but they gave us colds and headaches. So your uncle put them away and we went back to the fireplaces. Then came the hot-air furnaces, which seemed so much less trouble than open fires, but taking care of the open fires wasn't half so troublesome as taking care of sick folks; and the same thing we learned to our bitter cost of the plumbing pipes that creep around like venomous serpents and promise to save so many steps. Perhaps they do, but it seems to me that much of our vaunted labor-saving is at best only a transfer. We work all the harder at something else or compel others to work for us. When I began housekeeping I had no difficulty in taking care of my large house without any help, nor in caring for my family while it was small. Yet I hadn't a single modern invention or labor-saving machine, I have had a great many since and have tried a great many more. When I find one that helps in the work that _must_ be done I am glad to keep it. If it merely does something new--something I had never done before--I keep the old way. Multiplying wants may be a means of grace to the half-civilized, but our danger lies in the other direction: we have too many wants already. And this is what I sat down to say to you, my dear child: Don't make housekeeping such a complex affair that you must give to it all your time and strength, leaving no place for the 'better part.' Don't fill your house with furniture too fine to be used, and don't try to have everything in the latest fashion. I see many beautiful things and read of many more, but nothing is half so beautiful to me as the things that were new fifty years ago and are still in daily use. Of planning houses I know but little. For one thing, I should say, have the kitchen and working departments as close at hand as possible. This will save many weary steps, whether you do your own work or leave it with servants, the best of whom need constant watching and encouragement, or they will not make life any easier or better worth living." "Isn't this rather a solemn letter?" Jack inquired. "Yes; it's a solemn subject." "_Shall_ you 'do your own work'?" "Of course I shall. How can I help it? 'Each hath a work that no other can do;' but just precisely what my own work will be I am not at present prepared to say." "Is Aunt Melville as solemn as Aunt Jerusha?" "Aunt Melville assures her dear niece that 'the last plans are absolutely beyond criticism: the rooms are large and elegant, the modern conveniences perfect, the kitchen and servants' quarters isolated from the rest of the house'--" "That won't suit the other aunty." "The porte cochère and side entrance most convenient and the front entrance sufficiently distinguished by the tower. I particularly like the porte cochère at the side. If none of your callers came on foot there would be no objection to having it at the front entrance, but it isn't pleasant to be compelled to walk up the carriage-way. As you see, this is a brick house, and I am persuaded you ought to build of bricks. It will cost ten or fifteen per cent. more--possibly twenty--but in building a permanent home you ought not to consider the cost for a moment.'" "That's a comfortable doctrine, if everybody would live up to it," said Jack. "Yes; and like a good many other comfortable doctrines, it contains too much truth to be rejected--not enough to be accepted. We _must_ count the cost, but if we limit ourselves to a certain outlay, and positively refuse to go beyond that, we shall regret it as long as we live. We may leave some things unfinished, but whatever is done past alteration, either in size or quality, must be right, whatever it costs." And herein Jill displayed her good sense. It is, indeed, a mistake to build a house beyond the possibility of paying for it, or of maintaining it without a constant struggle, but in building a permanent home there is more likely to be lasting regret through too close economy in the first outlay, than through extravagance--regret that can only be cured by an outlay far exceeding what the original cost would have been. The architect came as the sun went down, and, after being duly warmed, fed and cheered, was informed by Jill that all she expected from him that evening was an explanation of the respective merits of wood and brick houses. Jack begged the privilege of taking notes, to keep himself awake, Jill begged the architect to be as brief as possible, and the architect begged for a small blackboard and a piece of chalk, that he might, in conveying his ideas, use the only one, true, natural and universal language which requires no grammar, dictionary or interpreter. [Illustration] CHAPTER IV. MANY FIRES MAKE SMALL DIVIDENDS. There are two things belonging to modern civilization," the architect began, "that fill me with amazement. This morning, at the usual hour, I sat at my own breakfast table. During the day I have been reading and writing, eating, drinking and making merry with pleasant acquaintances, old and new. I have observed the architecture of a dozen cities and a hundred villages and have seen landscapes without number. I have been occupying an elegantly finished and furnished drawing-room all the time, with every possible comfort and convenience at hand, and now am sitting at your fireside, two hundred and fifty miles from home. I have just assured the girl I left behind me of my safe arrival, and have listened to her grateful reply. With my ten thousand companions going in the same direction I have met ten thousand others crossing and recrossing our path, every one of whom was as safe and comfortable as ourselves, every one of whom knew the hour and the minute at which he would reach his destination. To an observer above the clouds our pathways would appear more frail than the finest gossamer; and the most daring engineer that ever lived, seeing for the first time our mode of travel, would stake his reputation that we were rushing to inevitable destruction. Yet every foot of our way has been so guarded that not one of these swiftly-moving palaces has swerved from its track or been hindered on its course. This annihilation of space, with the human skill, vigilance and fidelity incidental to it, are more wonderful to me than any tales of magic, stranger than any fiction. I believe because I see; nevertheless it is incredible. My second amazement is that fire insurance companies should continue to live and thrive against such apparently fearful odds, for I see whole villages and cities composed of buildings that seem expressly designed to invite speedy combustion, and at the same time to resist all attempts to extinguish a fire once started in their complex interiors. Indeed, the most effective modes of treatment yet discovered for a burning building are drowning it with all its contents in a deluge of water or blowing it up with gunpowder. It is an open question which of the two methods is to be preferred. [Illustration: A SECURE OUTLOOK.] "Let me show you how a wooden house is built. The sills and joists of the first floor are comparatively safe, because they are not boxed in with dry boards, and even with furnace and ash-pits in the cellar there would be little danger from a fire down below if it were not for the careful provision made for carrying it into the upper part of the structure. This provision, however, is most effectively made by means of the upright studs and furrings that stand all around the outside of the building and reach across it wherever a partition is needed. Accordingly, every wooden house has from one hundred to one thousand wooden flues of a highly inflammable character arranged expressly to carry fire from the bottom to the top, valiantly consuming themselves in the operation. Furthermore, they are frequently charged with shavings and splinters of wood, which, becoming dry as tinder, will respond at once to a spark from a crack in the chimney, an overheated stove or furnace-pipe, or a match in the hands of an inquisitive mouse. They are, likewise, so arranged that no water can be poured inside them till they fall apart and the house collapses, for they reach to the roof, whose sole duty is to keep out water, whether it comes from the clouds or from a hose-pipe, but which, for economical reasons, is made sufficiently open to allow the air to pass through it freely, thus insuring a good draught when the fire begins to burn. To complete the system and prevent the possibility of finding where the fire began, the spaces between the joists of the upper floors communicate with the vertical flues, and these highways and byways for rats and mice, for fire and smoke, for odors from the kitchen, noises from the nursery and dust from the furnace and coal-bin, are also strewn with builders' rubbish, which carries flame like stubble on a harvest-field. [Illustration: MINED AND COUNTERMINED.] "Brick houses, as usually built, are not much better, but that is not the fault of the bricks--_they_ are tougher than good intentions; they have been burned once and fire agrees with them. In fact, there is no building material so thoroughly reliable, through thick and thin, in prosperity and in adversity, as good, honest, well-burned bricks. But the ordinary brick house is double--a house within a house--a wooden frame in a brick shell. Like logs in a coal-pit, the inner house is well protected from outside attacks, but the flames, once kindled within, will run about as freely as in a wooden building, and laugh at cold water, which, however abundantly it is poured out, can never reach the heart of the fire till its destructive work is accomplished. Thrown upon the outer walls, it runs down the bricks or clapboards; poured over the roof, it is carried promptly to the ground, as it ought to be; shot in through the windows, it runs down the plastering, washes off the paper, soaks the carpets, ruins the merchandise and spoils everything that water can spoil, while the fire itself roars behind the wainscot, climbs to the rafters and rages among the old papers, cobwebs and heirlooms in the attic till the roof falls in, the floors go down with a crash and an upward shower of sparks, and only the tottering walls, with their eyeless window sockets, or the ragged, blackened chimney's, remain." "One road leads to fire and the other to combustion; that's plain enough," said Jack; "but where do the merits come in? I thought we were to learn the relative merits of bricks and wood." "Wood has one conspicuous merit, a virtue that covers a multitude of sins--it is cheap; but let me first arrange the fire-escapes." "By all means. Otherwise we shall be cremated before morning." "If you understand my sketch you will see that but one thing is needful to retard the progress of hidden fire, even in a wooden building, long enough at least for one to go up the hill and fetch a pail of water. This remedy consists simply in choking the flues and stopping the draught, which can easily be done by filling in with bricks and mortar between all the studs of both outer walls and inner partitions at or near the level of each floor. A cut-off half way up is an additional safeguard. The horizontal passages between the floor-joists should also be closed in a similar manner, otherwise the smoke and sparks from a burning lath next the kitchen stove-pipe will come up through the cracks in the floor of the parlor, chamber, or around some remote fireplace, where the insurance agent will be assured 'there hadn't been a fire kindled for six months.' These occasional dampers are a partial remedy, and if carefully fitted in the right places will save many tons of coal and greatly diminish the chances of total destruction in case of fire. The complete remedy is to leave no spaces that can possibly be filled. [Illustration: A DORMER OF BURNED CLAY.] "I supposed air spaces were necessary for warmth and dryness," said Jill. "So they are. But there are air spaces in a woolen blanket, in a brickbat and in common mortar, as well as in sawdust, ashes and powdered charcoal, quite enough to serve as non-conductors of heat and of moisture too, if properly protected. One of the best and most available materials at present known for this purpose is 'mineral wool,' a product of iron 'slag.' If the open spaces between the studs and rafters of a wooden building (or in a brick building between the furrings) are filled with this substance, or anything else equally good, if there is anything else--of course sawdust or other inflammable material would not answer except for an ice-house or a water-tank--'fire-bugs' would find it difficult to follow their profession with any success, and the insurance companies would build more elegant offices and declare larger dividends than ever before. Houses might be burned possibly, but the inmates would have ample time to fold their nightgowns, pack their trunks, take up the carpets and count the spoons before vacating the premises." "How much will that sort of stuffing cost?" "For a wooden dwelling house of medium size a few hundred dollars would cover the first outlay, and the saving in worry would be worth twice as much every year." "Now to consider the relative merits of brick and wood, for I see Jack is going to sleep again: The chief excellence of wood has already been mentioned. It is cheap, so cheap that any man who can earn a dollar a day and live on fifty cents, may at the end of a year, have a house of his own in which he can live and begin to bring up a family in comfort and safety. He that builds of bricks may rejoice in the durability and strength of his house, in its security against fire and sudden changes of temperature, in economy of fuel in cold weather, of ice in warm weather, and of paint in all weathers; in the possibility of the highest degree of external beauty, and in the blessed consciousness that his real estate will not deteriorate on his hands or be a worn-out and worthless legacy to his children." "You must wear peculiar spectacles if you can discover beauty in a square brick house!" [Illustration: THE TOPMOST PEAK.] "Rectitude, of which a brick is the accepted type, certainly has a beauty of its own. But if a brick house is not beautiful--here again the fault is not, dear Jack, in the bricks; but in ourselves, our prejudices and our architects--other things being equal, it should be more beautiful than a wooden house, because the material employed is more appropriate for its use. (I should like to deliver an oration at this point, for upon this Golden Rule of utility hang all the law and the prophets of architectural beauty, but will defer it to a more fitting occasion.) There is, in truth, no limit to the grace of form, color and decoration possible with burned clay. As a marble statue is to a wooden image, so, for the outer walls of a building, is clay that has been moulded and baked, to the products of the saw-mill, the planing-mill, lathe and fret-saw." "Oh, you mean terra cotta?" "I mean clay that has been wrought into forms of use and beauty, and prepared by fire to endure almost to the end of time. It is most commonly found in plain rectangular blocks, but in accordance with the artistic spirit of the age, brains are now mixed with the sordid earth, and lasting beauty glows upon the rich, warm face of the strong brick walls."-- "Yea, verily, amen and amen! Beauty, eloquence and true poetry, bright gleams of prophetic fire, patriotism, piety and the music of the spheres. I can see them all in my mind's eye and hear them in my mind's ear. Jill, my dear, our house shall be bricks--excuse me, I mean _brains_--and mortar, from turret to foundation stone. Consider that settled, and if the meeting is unanimous we will now adjourn till to-morrow morning." "One moment, if you please. Filling the spaces behind the lathing in a brick house with some fireproof and non-conducting material is a concession to usual modes of building. A more satisfactory construction still would be to build the wails of hollow bricks and with air spaces so disposed that neither wood furrings nor laths would be necessary. There is, moreover, no good reason why the inner surfaces of the main walls of a brick house and both sides of the partitions should not form the final finish of the rooms. Glazed bricks or tiles built into the walls, or secured to them after they are built, are vastly more satisfactory than a fragile and incongruous patchwork of wood, leather, metal, paper, paint and mortar, thrown together in some of the thousand and one fantastic fashions that spring up in a day, run their little course, and speedily return to the dust they have spent their short lives in collecting. I am afraid to dwell on this theme lest I should lie awake all night in a fever of futile protest." "Pray don't run any risks. I move we now adjourn." "Yes; but first let me ask one question," said Jill. "Would not the difference of cost between a house built in the ordinary combustible style and the same made fire-proof, or even 'slow-burning,' pay the cost of insurance at the usual rates many times over and leave a large margin besides?" "Undoubtedly it would." "Then, as an investment, what object is there in attempting to make buildings fireproof or even approximately so?" "Excuse me. I thought you were going to ask only one question." CHAPTER V. WHEN THE FLOODS BEAT AND THE RAINS DESCEND. After the architect had retired to his room it occurred to him that he might have answered Jill's conundrum as to the profit of building fire-proof houses by reminding her that pecuniary loss is not the sole objection to being burned out of house and home whenever the fire fiend happens to crave a flaming sacrifice, in the daytime or in the night, in summer or in midwinter, in sickness or in health; that not only heir-looms, but hearthstones and door posts, endeared by long associations, have a value beyond the power of insurance companies to restore, and that protection against fire means also security against many other ills to which the dwellers in houses are liable, not to refer to the larger fact that there is no real wealth without permanence, while the destruction of anything useful in the world, wherever the loss may seem to fall, impoverishes the whole. Having settled this point to his own satisfaction, he sought his pillow in a comfortable frame of mind. Comfortable, but not wholly at rest, for no sooner did he close his eyes than the "fever of futile protest" asserted itself in turbulent visions of paper, paint and plastering. Dados danced around in carnival dress; wall decorations went waltzing up and down, changing in shape, size and color like the figures in a kaleidoscope; Chinese pagodas on painted paper dissolved into brazen sconces, and candelabra sat where no light would ever shine; glazed plaques turned into Panama hats and cotton umbrellas, the classic figures in the frieze began to chase the peacocks furiously across the ceilings, the storks hopped wildly around on their one available leg, draperies of every conceivable hue and texture, from spider webs to sole leather, shaking the dust from their folds, slipped uneasily about on their glittering rings, and showers of Japanese fans floated down like falling apple blossoms in the month of May. He seemed to see the Old Curiosity Shop, the uncanny room of Mr. Venus, a dozen foreign departments of the Centennial, ancient garrets and modern household art stores, all tumbled together in hopeless confusion, and over all an emerald, golden halo that grew more and more concentrated till it burst into gloom as one gigantic sunflower, which, suddenly changing into the full moon just rising above the top of a neighboring roof, put an end to his chaotic dreams. Not willing to be moonstruck, even on the back of his head, he arose and went to the window to draw the curtain. There was a sort of curtainette at the top, opaque and immovable, serving simply to reduce the height of the window. At the sides there were gauzy draperies, too fancifully arranged to be rashly moved and too thin to serve the purpose of a curtain even against moonlight. He tried to close the inside shutters, but they clung to their boxes, refusing to stir without an order from the carpenter. At the risk of catching a cold or a fall, he opened the window and endeavored to bring the outside blinds together. One fold hung fast to the wall, the other he contrived to unloose, but the hook to hold it closed was wanting, and when he tried to fasten it open again the catch refused to catch, so he was compelled to shut the window and leave the swinging blind at the mercy of the wind. He then improvised a screen from a high-backed chair and an extra blanket, and again betook himself to bed. Stepping on a tack that had been left over when the floor matting was laid provoked certain exclamations calculated to exorcise the demon--or should I say alarm the angel?--of decorative art, and he was soon wrapped in the slumber of the just, undisturbed by esthetic visions. [Illustration: WILL'S MASTERPIECE.] After a time he became dimly conscious of a sense of alarm. At first, scarcely roused to understand the fear or its cause, he soon recognized a noise that filled his soul with terror--the stealthy sound of a midnight assassin; a faint rasping, intermittent and cautious, a sawing or filing the bolt of his door. He made a motion to spring up, upset a glass of water by his bedside and--frightened the rats from the particular hole they were trying to gnaw. In their sudden fright they dropped all pretense of secresy. They called each other aloud by name and scattered acorns, matches, butternuts and ears of corn in every direction, which rolled along the ceiling, fell down the partitions, knocked the mortar off the back of the laths and raised such a noisy commotion as ought to have roused the whole neighborhood. No one stirred, and the architect once more addressed himself to blessed sleep, feeling that morning must soon put an end to his tribulations. How long he slept he had no means of knowing. It was still dark when he awoke: dark but not still. A distant footfall tinkled on the matted floor, followed by another and another in rapid, measured succession. Could there be a cat or a dog in the room? He could see nothing. The moon was gone and the room was dark as Egypt. Possibly some animal escaped from a traveling menagerie had hidden in the chamber. He lay still and listened while the step--step--step--kept on without break or change. Presently he thought of ghosts, and as ghosts were the one thing he was not afraid of he turned over and went to sleep for good just as the village clock struck eleven. In the morning when he awoke, it rained. The ghostly footfalls continued; in fact, they had considerably increased, but they were no longer ghostly. A dark spot on the ceiling directly over the portfolio of plans he had laid on the floor betrayed their source. Portfolio and contents were as well soaked as if the fire companies had been at them--all from a leak in the roof. After breakfast, when Jill proposed to spend the time till it cleared off in looking over the plans he had brought, the architect was obliged to explain the disaster. "It is just as well," said he. "I brought them because you asked me to bring them, not because I supposed there would be one among them that would suit you. But they are not wasted. These poor, dumb, dripping plans preach a most eloquent sermon, the practical application of which is only too evident." "But how _can_ you make a tight roof? There has always been a leak here when it rains with the wind in a certain quarter. We keep a pan under it all the time, but somebody forgot to empty it; so it ran over last night." "You ought to see the house that I built," said Jack. "The wind may blow where it listeth and never a drop comes through the roof." "Oh, Jack, what a story! Only yesterday you showed me where the ceiling was stained and the paper just ready to come off." "That wasn't from rain water. It was from snow and ice water, which is a very different affair. We had peculiar weather last winter. I know a man who lost three thousand dollars' worth of frescoes in one night." "It is indeed a different matter as regards the construction of the roof, but the water is wet all the same, and a roof is inexcusable that fails to keep all beneath it dry, however peculiar the weather may be. No, it is not difficult to make a tight roof with the aid of common sense and common faithfulness. The most vulnerable spots during a rain storm are beside the dormers and the chimneys, over the bay-window roofs and in the valleys, that is, wherever the plane surface and the uniform slope of the roof is broken. In guarding these it is not safe to assume that water never runs up hill; a strong wind will drive it up the slope of a roof under slates, shingles or flashings as easily as it drives up the high tide of Lincolnshire. It will cause the water pouring down the side of a chimney, a dormer window, or any other vertical wall, to run off in an oblique direction and into cracks that never thought of being exposed to falling rain. 'Valleys' fail to carry their own rivers when they are punctured by nails carelessly driven too far within their borders; when the rust that corrupts the metal of which they are commonly composed has eaten their substance from the under side perhaps, their weakness undiscovered till the torrent breaks through; when they become choked with leaves and dust and overflow their banks; when they are torn asunder by their efforts to accommodate themselves to changes of temperature, and when ice cakes come down from the steep roofs and break holes through them. "The other danger is peculiar to cold climates, where the roof must protect not only from driving rain but from snow and ice in all their moods and tenses. When the higher peaks feel the warmth of the sun or the internal heat of the building, the lower slopes and valleys being without such influence, it sometimes happens that the rills will be set to running by the warmth of the upper portions, while the colder climate below will stop them in their course, building around the slate, shingles or tiles an impervious ice dam, from which the descending streams can find no outlet except by 'setting back' under the slates and running down inside. Eave spouts and conductors are especially liable to this climatic influence, for nothing is more common than to find them freezing in the shade while the roofs above are basking in the sun. As Jack observes, admitting water above an ice dam is a different kind of sin in a roof from that which caused the ruin of my plans last night, but it is no less unpardonable. The same treatment that will make a roof non-conducting of fire will, to some extent, overcome this danger, or a double boarding may be laid upon the rafters, with an air space between. This or the mineral wool packing will prevent the premature melting of snow from the internal heat. The only sure salvation for gutters is to take them down and lay them away in a cool, dry place. Thorough work, ample outlets and abundant room for an overflow on the outward side will make them reasonably safe. In general it is better to let the water fall to the ground, as directly as possible, and let the snow slide where it will, provided there is nothing below to be injured by an avalanche. A hundred-weight of warm snow or a five-pound icicle falling ten feet upon a slated roof or a conservatory skylight is sure to make a lasting impression." "Isn't this discourse a little out of season?" said Jack. "We don't buy furs in July nor refrigerators in January. If you expect advice to be followed, you mustn't offer it too long beforehand. Now, as your plans haven't yet recovered from their bath, let us see if Jill's air-castles can be brought down to the region of human possibilities." "I am not quite ready for that," said Jill. "First, let me show you the plans my old friend has sent me, and read you her description of them. Here are the plans and here is the letter: "'Of all the plans Will has ever made'--her 'Will' is an architect, you know--'these seem to me most likely to suit you and Jack, although they are by no means, adapted to conventional, commonplace housekeepers. In the centre of the first floor the large hall, opening freely to the outside world, is a sort of common ground, hospitable and cheerful, where the stranger guest and the old friend meet; where the children play, where the entire household are free to come and go without formality. The furniture it contains is for use and comfort. It is never out of order, because it is subject to no formal rules. At the left of the hall is the real family home, more secluded and more significant of your own taste and feeling. Instead of many separate apartments for general family use, here are drawing-room, sitting-room, library and parlor, all in one. This is the domestic sanctuary, the essential family home into which outsiders come only by special invitation. From the central hall runs the staircase that leads to the still more personal and private apartments above, one of which belongs to each member of the family. At the right of the hall is the dining-room, near enough to make its contribution to physical comfort and enjoyment at the proper time, but easily excluded when its inferior service is not required.' "I don't understand that," said Jill. "I do," said Jack. "It means that the meat that perisheth ought not to be set above the feast of reason and flow of soul; that the dining-room ought to be convenient but subordinate, not the most conspicuously elegant part of the establishment, unless we keep a boarding-house and reckon eating the chief end of man. Where do you say the library is?" "Included in the drawing-room. Probably the corner marked 'Boudoir' contains a writing desk with more or less books and other literary appliances. It has a fireplace of its own and portières would give it complete seclusion." [Illustration: FIRST FLOOR OF WILL'S MASTERPIECE.] "Where is the smoking-room?" "I don't know. She didn't send the plans for the stable." "How savage! Please go on with the letter." Jill continued: "'The floors of the dining-room and hall are on the same level, but that of the drawing-room is one or two feet higher--' "I don't like that at all. Should stumble forty times a day." "'--which is typical of its higher social plane, makes a charming raised seat on the platform at the foot of the stairs, and gives a more picturesque effect than would be possible if all the rooms were on a par.' "Can't help that. I shouldn't like it. I'd rather be a commonplace housekeeper." "'The higher broad landing in the staircase, running quite across the hall, makes a sort of gallery with room for a few book-shelves, a lounging-seat in the window, a band of musicians on festival occasions, with perhaps a pretty view from the window.' "If the landscape happens to fit the plan." "'Under the lower portion, of the stairs there is a toilet room, and at the same end of the hall wide doors lead to the piazza. A long window also gives access to the same piazza from the drawing-room. In the second story the chambers have plenty of closets and dressing-rooms, and yet but few doors. Indeed, many of these may be omitted by using portières between each chamber and its dressing-room. You will notice, too, that by locking one door on each story the servants' quarters can be entirely detached from the rest of the house.' "Yes," said Jill, laying down the letter; "and that suggests another question: What do you think of a plan like this which provides no passage from the kitchen to the front part of the house except across the dining-room?" [Illustration: SECOND FLOOR OF WILL'S MASTERPIECE.] "I should refer the question back to the housekeepers themselves; it is domestic rather than architectural. If the kitchen servant attends to the door bell, and is constantly sailing back and forth between the cooking-stove and the front door like a Fulton Ferry boat, the amount of travel would justify a special highway--even a suspension bridge. Likewise, when the side entrance for the boys and other careless members of the family is behind the dining-room, that apartment will become a noisy thoroughfare, unless there is a corridor passing around it. This is a common dilemma in planning the average house, and while a direct communication between the front and rear portions is always desirable, crossing one of the principal rooms is often the least of two evils. It seems to be so in this plan." "Go on, Jill." "There is but one more sentence about the plan: 'The outside of the house is severely plain, but you can easily make it more ornamental.'" "That's true. Nothing is easier than to make things ornamental. The hard thing is to make them simply useful. Now if you want my candid opinion of this plan," Jack continued, "I should say it is first-rate if the front door looks toward the east: if there is a grand view of rivers and mountains toward the southwest; if the family live on the west piazza all the forenoon; if they board a moderate family of servants in the north end (which I notice is a few steps lower than the dining-room--for social reasons, I suppose)--if they keep up rather a 'tony' style of living in the south end; are not above condescending to men of low estate to the extent of receiving common people in the big hall, but holding themselves about two steps above the average human; and, finally, if and provided the butler's pantry is made as large again for a smoking-room, and the kitchen pantry made large enough to hold the butler. With these few remarks, I think we may lay this set of plans on the table." [Illustration] CHAPTER VI. THE WISDOM OF JILL IN THE KITCHEN. "Perhaps Jack will remember," said Jill, as she prepared to explain her plans, "that we examined not long ago a large number of somewhat pretentious houses, but did not find one that was satisfactory, the defects being usually in what I should call the working department of the house. The large front rooms were often exceedingly charming, elegantly furnished and well arranged." "For which reason," said Jack, "the family seemed to be religiously kept out of them unless they had on their company manners and their Sunday clothes, or wished to make themselves particularly miserable by having a wedding, a sewing society or an evening party." "The rear boundary of the dining-room seemed like Mason and Dixon's line in the old times; once beyond it, we entered a region 'without law or ornament or order,' a realm of architectural incompetence, confusion and evil work--if it is fair to call the arrangements of the domestic part of a house an architectural matter." "Certainly it is," Jack affirmed, "and it's my opinion that no architect ought to receive his diploma until he has served one year in a first-class family as cook, butler and maid-of-all-work." [Illustration: THE OUTSIDE OF TED'S HOUSE.] "One would almost be inclined to think that such an experience, with another year at bridge building, had been with certain 'practical architects and builders' the entire course of study." "It was plain enough," Jill continued, "that these houses were planned by _men_, who were not only ignorant of the details of housework but who held them in low esteem, as of no special importance. They evidently exhausted their room and their resources on what they are pleased to call the 'main' part of the house, leaving the kitchen and all its accessories to be fashioned out of the chips and fragments that remained. It would be a similar thing if a man should build a factory, fill it with machinery, furnish and equip the offices, warerooms and shipping docks, but leave no room for the engine that is to drive the whole or for the fuel that feeds the engine. When 'we women' practice domestic architecture, as we surely ought and shall,--" "When it's fashionable." "--we shall change all that. If there can be but two good rooms in a house it is better to have a kitchen and sitting-room than a dining-room and parlor. I propose to begin at the other end of the problem in planning our house. It may not suit anybody else, but if it suits Jack and I it will be a model home." "That sentiment is a solid foundation to build upon," said the architect. "I wish it was more popular. Build to suit yourselves, not your neighbors." "And now if you will walk into my kitchen, which is _not_ up nor down a winding stair? but on the same level with the dining-room, you shall judge whether it can be made a stern reality or must always remain the ghostly wing of a castle in the air. The approach from outside is through the little entry at the farther corner, where 'the butcher, the baker, and the candlestick maker,' the grocer, the fish-man, the milk-man and the ice-man bring their offerings. The other entrance is by way of the lobby adjoining the main staircase hall. This lobby or 'garden entrance' is a sort of Mugby Junction, where we can take the cars for the cellar, for the second floor by the back stairs route, for the dining-room or for out of doors, and where we find refreshment in the way of a wash-basin and minor toilet conveniences. Under the main staircase there is also a large closet opening into this same lobby. My kitchen you see has windows at opposite sides, not only to admit plenty of light, for cleanliness is a child of light--" "That's true," said Jack. "In a dark room it's hard to tell a dried blueberry from a dried--currant." "Not only for light, but that the summer breezes may sweep through it when the windows are open, and, as far as possible, keep a river of fresh air rollings between the cooking range and the dining-room. It is long and narrow, that it may have ample wall space and yet keep the distance between the engine and machine shop, that is, the range with its appurtenances, and the packing-room--I mean the butler's pantry--as short as possible." "I'm glad there's going to be a 'butler's pantry,' it sounds so stylish. I notice that among people who have accommodations for a 'butler' in their house plans, about one in a hundred keeps the genuine article. All the rest keep a waitress or a 'second girl.' Sometimes the cook, waitress, butler, chambermaid, valet and housekeeper are all combined in one tough and versatile handmaiden." [Illustration: JILL'S KITCHEN IN BLACK AND WHITE.] "Well, call it china closet, though it is really something more than that, or serving-room, or dining-room pantry--whatever you please. We shall keep two servants in the house, one of whom will wait on the table; consequently I do not want a door from this room-of-many-names to the kitchen. It is much easier to maintain the dignity and order that belong to our precious pottery, our blue and crackled ware, our fair and frail cut glass, if they are not exposed to frequent attacks from the kitchen side. There is, however, an ample sliding door or window in the partition, and a wide serving table before it, on which the cook will deposit the dinner as she takes it from the range. A part of the top of this table is of slate, and may be kept hot by steam or hot water from the range. With but one servant it would of course be necessary to make the route from the kitchen range to the dining-room table more direct." "What if you had none?" "If I had none, my kitchen, dining-room, store-room, china-closet, butler's pantry and all the blessed facilities for cooking, serving and removing the meals should be within a radius of ten feet. How any mortal woman with a soul above dress trimmings can be content to spend three hours in preparing meals to be eaten in thirty minutes passes my comprehension. When I 'do my own work,' as Aunt Jerusha says, there will be no extra steps, no extra dishes, no French cooking, no multiplying of 'courses.'" "No cards, no cake, no style." "Yes, indeed! The most distinguished and elegant style. Such style as is not possible except where all the household service is performed by the most devoted, the most thoughtful, the most intelligent, if I may say so--" "Certainly the most intelligent, amiable, accomplished and altogether lovely member of the family. I agree to that." "There will be no _pretense_ of style--if that is what you mean, no vain endeavor to conceal poverty or ignorance, but a delightful Arcadian candor and simplicity that will leave the mistress of the house, who is also housekeeper, nurse, cook, dairymaid, butler, waitress, laundress, seamstress, governess and family physician, abundant time and strength for such other occupations and amusements as may be most congenial. It would be a delightful way of living, and I should not hesitate to try it if I felt certain that I _had_ a soul above dress trimmings. I am not willing to be a household drudge, overwhelmed by the 'work that is never done;' therefore, to be on the safe side, we will keep two servants. "The cooking range, whether of the portable or 'set' kind, will have a brick wall behind it and at each side, which, carried above, will form a sort of canopy to conduct into the chimney the superfluous heat in warm weather and the steam and smoke from cooking at all times. I suppose some housekeepers would object to separating the two pantries, but they have no common interests requiring close proximity. The kitchen pantry is a store-room and a kind of private laboratory, where the mysterious experiments are made that develop our taste for esthetic cooking and give us an experimental knowledge of dyspepsia. Its operations precede the work of the range to which it is a near neighbor, as it ought to be. It has also the merit of being in the cool northwest corner of the house, with small windows on two adjacent sides, which are better than a single window, for the air of a store-room or pantry cannot be changed too freely in warm weather. "Do you see the closets at the end of this pantry? One is for ice, which is shoved in through a little door just above the sink where it is brought by the ice-man; the other is for a cold closet and is built in such a way as to get the full benefit of its cold-blooded neighbor. Don't forget, in making the plan, that the door through which the ice slides must be large enough to take in the largest cakes, and must be so arranged that after being washed at the sink they will slide easily without lifting or _banging_ into their proper places inside." "And let me suggest," said the architect, "that the waste-pipe that carries off the melted ice be allowed to run straight out of doors, without making the acquaintance of the sewer or any other drain-pipe." "Please remember that then, as well as the door. The kitchen sink is at the west end of the room, between and under two windows, which must be at least three feet from the floor. It is near to the pantry door, to accommodate the dishes used in cooking; yet not so near that one cannot stand beside it without danger of being roasted or broiled; near to the cellar door, from whence come the Murphys and other vegetables to have their faces washed and their eyes put out. Of course there is a china sink in the china closet, to insure tender treatment for all the table ware, and I should like a sort of window or slide behind the sideboard opening through it. Sometimes it will be convenient for the waitress to arrange the articles to be used on the table within reach from the dining-room side, and save a special journey whenever a dish, or a spoon is changed." "It strikes me," said Jack, "that when it comes to spoons you're drawing it pretty fine. I suppose these are modern improvements, but how much better will the dinners be than the dinners cooked in my kitchen? Two servants will do all the work for the same wages." "Real labor-saving is a religious duty, like all other economy; and if we don't have better domestic service with better facilities for doing work the fault is our own." "But I don't see that this kitchen is any better than mine." "Of course you don't; you're a man; but for one thing, your china closet hasn't even a window of its own. How do you expect glasses to be made clean and silver bright in such a place? Now observe my plan: Not only is the kitchen light, but the entry where the ice comes in, the pantry where the food is prepared, the butler's pantry, the stairs to the cellar and to the second floor, and Mugby Junction, are all light. There isn't a dark corner on the premises, and consequently no excuse for uncleanness or accidents." "Just think of the flies." "Windows are easily darkened. But I am not quite ready to talk over these minor matters. The general plan is the first thing, and I think you will agree with me that it is well begun." "According to Poor Richard, then, it is half done. So it's time for recess." "Very well; way of change let us look at the plans of brother Ted's house in Kansas. Its situation is different from ours, as it stands on a high bluff in a bend of the Missouri, and the parlor looks over the water in three different directions, up and down and across the river. The piazza seems to be arranged to make the most of this situation, and Ted thinks it impossible to contrive a more charming arrangement for hall, parlor and dining-room. They use the parlor as a common sitting-room, and the hall still more commonly, especially in warm weather. Ted doesn't realize that half the charm of the house lies in its adaptation to the site." [Illustration: THE FIRST FLOOR OF TED'S HOUSE.] "That ought to be the case with every country or suburban house." "It certainly will not fit our lot, and it seems to me best suited for a summer home or for a warm climate." Here Jack was called to his office, and Jill withdrew to attend to some household duties, first requesting the architect to redraw the plans so as to show accurately the construction and details. "That is to say," said Jack, "while Jill makes a pudding for dinner and I write a business letter of three lines, you are to lay out in complete shape the plans for a house containing all the modern abominations and improvements, that will cost ten thousand dollars, occupy two years in building and last forever. That's a modest request." "Not extravagant compared with the demands often made upon domestic architects, for it involves no downright contradictions. I am not asked to show how a house worth ten thousand dollars can be built for five, or to break the Golden Rule, or to change the multiplication table and the cardinal points of the compass." CHAPTER VII. BE HONEST AND KEEP WARM. The architect went home to translate the instructions he had received into the language that builders understand. Jack and Jill established themselves in the house that Jack built. The proposed amendments were indefinitely postponed; Jill having consented to take the house temporarily as she had taken Jack permanently--for better or worse--only claiming her reserved right, in the case of the house, of privately finding all the fault she pleased. Even the staircase, so favorable to a swift descent, remained unchanged, and in their own room the bed stood squarely in the middle of the floor. Jack averred that this was intended when the house was planned, because the air is so much better in the centre of a room, and there is not so much danger of being struck by lightning. One day there came a cold, gloomy rain on the wings of a raw east wind, and after Jack had gone to his office it occurred to Jill that a fire on the hearth in the parlor, which they used as a common sitting-room, would be exceedingly comfortable, but on removing a highly ornamental screen that served as a "fireboard," she found neither grate nor fireplace, only a blank wall plastered and papered. Her righteous wrath was kindled, not because she was compelled to get warm in some other way, but by the fraudulent character of the chimney-piece. "I can imagine nothing more absurdly impertinent," she declared to Jack when he came home, "than that huge marble mantel standing stupidly against the wall where there isn't even a chimney for a background. As a piece of furniture it is superfluous; as a wall decoration it is hideous; as a shelf it is preposterous; as a fireplace it is a downright lie. If our architect suggests anything of the kind he will be dismissed on the instant." [Illustration: THE POOR BUT MODEST ATTORNEY'S COTTAGE] "Don't you think the room would look rather bare without a mantel? You know it's the most common thing in the world to have them like this. I can show you a hundred without going out of town." "Common! It's worse than common; it is vulgar, it is atrocious, it is the sum of all villainies!" said Jill, her indignation rising with each succeeding epithet. "A fireplace is a sacred thing. To pretend to have one when you have not is like pretending to be pious when you know you are wicked; it is stealing the livery of a warm, gracious, kindly hospitality to serve you in making a cold, heartless _pretense_ of welcome." "I didn't mean to do anything wrong," Jack protested with exceeding meekness. "Such mantels were all the fashion when this house was built, and fashions in marble can't be changed as easily as fashions in paper flowers." "There ought not to be 'fashions' in marble, but of course it was fashion. Nothing else than the blindest of all blind guides could have led people into anything so hopelessly silly and unprincipled. I shall never enjoy this room again," she continued, "knowing, as well I know, that yonder stately piece of sculpture is a whited sepulchre, a delusion and a snare. I shall feel that I ought to unmask it the moment a visitor comes in, lest I should be asked to make a fire on the hearth and be obliged to confess the depravity in our own household." [Illustration: A DOUBLE TEAM.] "Now, really, my dear, don't you think you are coming it rather strong, if I may be allowed the expression? Isn't it possible that your present views may be slightly tinged by the color of the east wind, so to speak?" "Not in the least. You know perfectly well, Jack, that insincerity is the bane of domestic and social life; that hypocrisy is a child of the Evil One, and that vain and false pretensions are the fatal lures that lead us on to destruction. How can we respect ourselves or expect our friends to respect us if the most conspicuous thing in the house is a palpable fraud?" "Very well, dear, I'll bring up a can of nitro-glycerine to-morrow and blow the whole establishment into the middle of futurity. Meanwhile, let us see if anything can be done to make it endurable a few hours longer." Dropping on his knees in front of the fictitious fireplace, Jack pulled the paper from the wall, disclosing a sheet-iron stove-pipe receiver, set there for a time of need, and communicating in some mysterious way with a sooty smoke flue. Having found this, he telephoned to the stove store for a portable grate--that is to say, a Franklin stove with ornamental tiles in the face of it--and in less than an hour the room was radiant with the blaze of a hickory fire, while a hitherto unknown warmth came to the lifeless marble from its new neighbor. By sitting directly in front of it Jill discovered that in appearance the general effect was nearly as good as that of a genuine fireplace, the warmth diffused being decidedly greater. "I'm sorry I lost my temper," said she, after they had sat a while in silence enjoying the ameliorating influence of the blaze, "but I _do_ hate a humbug. We will let this stove stand here all summer to remind you that neither your house nor your wife is perfect, and to keep me warm when the east wind blows." [Illustration: WARMTH UNDER THE WINDOW.] Jack's response to this magnanimous remark must be omitted, as it had no direct bearing upon house-building. "When I went into the kitchen this morning to get warm," Jill observed later in the evening, "I found Bridget ironing; the stove was red-hot, the bath boiler was bubbling and shaking with the imprisoned steam, and the outside door was wide open. It struck me that there was heat enough going out of doors, not to mention the superheated air of the kitchen itself, to have made the whole house comfortable such days as this, if it could only be saved. Don't you think it would be possible to attach a pipe to some part of the cooking-range that would carry steam or hot water to the front of the house. We shouldn't want it when the furnace was running, nor in very warm weather, and at such times it could be turned off." Jack thought it could be done, and expressed a willingness to be a roasted martyr occasionally if he could by that means make some use of the perennial fire in the kitchen, a fire that seemed to be the hottest when there was no demand for it. [Illustration: STEAM PIPES BESIDE THE FIREPLACE.] "It's my conviction," said he, "that if the heat actually evolved from the fuel consumed by the average cook could be conserved on strictly scientific principles, it would warm the house comfortably the year round without any damage to the cooking, and with a saving of all the bother of stoves, fireplaces and furnaces." And his conviction was well founded, provided the house is not too large and the weather is not too cold. "Shall we try it in the new house?" "No, not unless somebody invents a new patent low-pressure, automatic-cooking-range-warming-attachment before we are ready for it. We shall have fireplaces in every room--real ones--and steam radiators beside." "What! in every room, those ugly, black, bronzy, oily, noisy, leaking, sizzling, snapping steam radiators that are always in the way and keep the air in the room so dry that everybody has catarrh, the doors won't latch, and the furniture falls to pieces? You know how the old heirloom mahogany chair collapsed under Madam Abigail at Mrs. Hunter's party--went to pieces in a twinkling like the one-horse shay--and all on account of the steam heat." "Yes, I remember; it was a comical tragedy; and before we run any such risks let us look over our advisory letters. Here's one from Uncle Harry, who, as you know, is never without a hobby of some sort. Just at present he is devoted to sanitary questions. To be well warmed, ventilated and plumbed is the chief end of man. He begins by saying that 'sun's heat is the only external warmth that is natural or beneficial to human beings. When men have risen above the dark clouds of sin and ignorance they will discover how to preserve the extra warmth of the torrid zone and of the hot summers in our own latitudes to be evenly diffused through colder climes and seasons. Next to sun's heat is that which comes from visible combustion--the burning of wood and coal. Such spontaneous, radiant, living warmth differs essentially from that which we receive by contact with artificially-warmed substances, somewhat as fruit that has been long gathered differs from that taken directly from the vine.'" "Isn't this getting sort of misty, what you might call 'transcendental like'?" "Possibly, and this is still more so: 'Warmth is the vital atmosphere of life, and a living flame imparts to us some of nature's own mysterious vitality. Hence, the sun's rays and the blaze of burning fuel give not only a material but a spiritual comfort and cheer, which mere warm air is powerless to impart. Here is another reason why direct radiation, even from a black iron pipe, is preferable to a current of warm air brought from a distance: in a room warmed by such a current nothing is ever quite so warm as the air itself unless so situated as to obstruct its flow, but every solid substance near a hot stove or radiator absorbs the radiated heat and is satisfied, while the air for respiration remains at a comparatively low temperature.'" "There may be a little sense in that," said Jack, "but the rest is several fathoms too deep for me. Has he any practical advice to give?" "That depends upon what you call practical. 'I have little patience,' he says, 'with the common objection to direct radiation, that it brings no fresh air. Fresh air can be had for the asking under a small stove or radiator standing in a room as well as under a large stove or boiler standing in the cellar; neither does the dampness or dryness of the atmosphere depend primarily upon the mode of warming it, while, as for the appearance of steam pipes, if they are not beautiful as usually seen, it only proves that art is not wisely applied to iron work, and that architects have not learned the essential lesson that whatever gives added comfort to a house will, if rightly treated, enhance its beauty. Steam-pipes or radiators may stand under windows, behind an open screen or grill of polished brass, or they may be incorporated with the chimney piece, and need not, in either case, be unsightly or liable to work mischief upon the carpets or ceilings under them. Wherever placed, a flue to bring in fresh air should be provided and fitted with a damper to control the currents.'" "I like the notion of putting them beside the fireplace," said Jack. "When they are both running, it would be like hitching a pair of horses before an ox-team or a steam engine attachment to an overshot water-wheel. It means business. Uncle Harry improves. What next?" "He expounds his theories of light and shade, of plumbing, sewer-gas and malaria, and casually remarks that 'the variation of the north magnetic pole and the points of compass are not yet fully understood in their relation to human welfare.'" "I should hope not! He must be writing under the influence of a full moon. Let us try a fresh correspondent." "Very well. Here is Aunt Melville's latest, with a new set of plans. There will be neither trancendentalism nor vain repetitions here: "'MY DEAR NIECE: Since writing you last I have had a most interesting experience, and hasten to give you the benefit of it. You remember Mr. Melville's niece married a young attorney in Tumbledonville; very talented and of good family, but poor, _desperately_ poor. He hadn't over two or three thousand dollars in the world, but he has built a marvelous little house, of which I send you the plans. You enter a lovely hall, positively larger than, mine, an actual room in fact, with a staircase running up at one side and a charming fireplace at the right, built, if you will believe it, of common red bricks that cost only five dollars a thousand. It couldn't have taken over two hundred and fifty to build it.--' [Illustration: THE ATTORNEY'S FLOOR PLAN.] "Just think of that! A charming fireplace for a dollar and a quarter!--" "Communicating with the hall by a wide door beautifully draped with some astonishingly cheap material is the parlor, fully equal in every respect to my library, and adjoining that the dining-room, nearly as large. On the same side is a green-house between two bay windows, the whole arrangement having a wonderful air of gentility and culture. I am convinced that you ought to invest three-fourths of your father's wedding present in some safe business, and with the remainder build a house like this, buying a small lot for it, and defer the larger house for a few years. Keeping house alone with Jack and perhaps one maid-of-all-work will be perfectly respectable and dignified; the experience will do you good, and I have no doubt you will enjoy it. It will not only be a great economy in a pecuniary way, but society is very exacting, and a large house entails heavy social burdens which you will escape while living in a cottage. This will give you plenty of time to improve your taste in art, which is indispensable at present. There will be great economy, too, in the matter of furniture. A large house _must_ be furnished according to prevailing fashions, but in a small one you may indulge any unconventional, artistic fancy you please.'" "If Aunt Melville's advice and plans could be applied where they are needed they would be extremely valuable. Suppose we found a society and present them to it for gratuitous distribution." "We can't spare them yet; we shall not use them, but it is well to hear all sides of a question." CHAPTER VII. TRUTH, POETRY AND ROOFS. "How the wind does blow!" said Jill, as she laid aside Aunt Melville's latest, and Jack laid another log into the open stove. "It is a genuine 'gale from the northeast.'" "So it is, and that reminds me," Jack exclaimed, jumping up, "that a driving rain from the northeast always gets the better of the attic window over the guest-room. There's something mysterious about that window," he explained. "It opens like a door; I believe they call it a 'casement' window, and in such a storm as this I have to keep sopping up the water that blows in. I had a carpenter look at it, but he said it couldn't be fixed without making a new one or fastening it up so it couldn't be opened at all. We don't have a northeast rain-storm very often, and that's the only window that ever leaks--except the skylight and the round one in the west gable which is hung at the top to swing inward and couldn't be expected to hold water." Jill found some towels, and they hurried to the attic to "sop up" the rain that was driving under the sash and had already made its mark on the ceiling below. Then they examined the skylight and the round window, and just as they were about to descend perceived a smell of burning wood. Jack rushed down to the sitting-room, telling Jill to fly for a pail of water, found the wall beside the stove-pipe very hot, ran for an axe, and, smashing a hole through the lath and plastering, discovered a bit of wood furring to which the laths had been nailed resting directly against the sheet iron pipe. Catching the pail of water which Jill was about to pour into the stove, he cooled the hot pipe and extinguished the wood about to burst into flame, the smoke of which, rising beside the chimney to the attic, had warned them of the danger below. He then cut away around the pipe till the solid brick chimney was exposed, gathered up the rubbish, piling the chips upon the fire in the stove, and lay back in his chair, evidently enjoying the situation. "How can you be so reckless, Jack, as to keep a fire in such a chimney?" "The chimneys are all right, my dear. I took special pains with them when the house was built. The only danger there ever was lay in that little piece of inch board that happened to be too near the pipe." "And how are we to know what other little pieces of board may be too near? I think it's a very dangerous house to live in. If we hadn't gone up to the attic when we did it would have been all in flames." "And we shouldn't have gone to the attic at all if my windows had been proof against the east wind." "No, nor would you have known we were having a gale from the northeast if I hadn't quoted the 'Wreck of the Hesperus.'" [Illustration: NO CONCEALMENT OR DISGUISE.] "Consequently we owe our preservation to the well-beloved poet." "Moral: Study the poets." "Moral number two: Build leaky casements." "Number three: When the wood around a chimney takes fire it doesn't prove a 'defective flue.'" "Number four: A small fault hidden is more dangerous than a large one in sight." "Very true; and if modern builders had kept to the poet's standard, and, like those in the elder days of art, 'wrought with greatest care, Each minute and hidden part,' we should not be trembling before a black and ragged chasm in the wall, afraid to go to bed lest the fire should break out anew and burn us in our sleep." "There's not the least danger. We are as safe as a barrel of gunpowder in a mill pond. There is nothing to set us on fire. That bit of dry wood was the key to the whole situation. We have captured that and can make our own terms. Still, if you feel nervous we will sit up and 'talk house' till the fire goes out." Jill acceded to this proposal and began to discourse, taking moral number four for a text. "I wish it were possible," said she, "to build a house with everything in plain sight, the chimneys, the hot-air pipes from the furnace, if there are any, the steam pipes, the ventilators, the gas pipes, the water pipes, the speaking tubes, the cranks and wires for the bells--whatever really belongs to the building. They might all be decorated if that would make them more interesting, but even if they were quite unadorned they ought not to be ugly. If we could see them we shouldn't feel that we are surrounded by hidden mysteries liable at any time to explode or break loose upon us unawares. Those things that get out of order easily ought surely to be accessible. I don't believe there would have been half the trouble with plumbing, either in the way of danger to health or from dishonest and ignorant work, if it had not been the custom to keep it as much as possible out of sight. There is a great satisfaction, too, in knowing that everything is genuine." "We might build a log house. The logs are solid, and the chimney, if there happens to be one, won't pretend to be of the same material as the walls of the building." "I like better the notion of letting the material of which brick walls and partitions are composed form the actual finish inside as well as outside. The floors, too, should be bare, and the beams that support them ought to be visible, and in case of a wooden house, the posts, braces and other timbers should be left in sight when the building is finished. It is a sad pity that modern modes of building, like modern manners and fashions, conceal actual construction and character, making a mask that may hide great excellence or absolute worthlessness." "Won't all these pipes, wooden beams, bell ropes and things be fearfully dusty and cumber the housekeeper with too much serving? I supposed you would vote for smooth, flat, hard wood and painted walls, they are so much easier to keep clean." "Perhaps I shall; but we must remember the gnat and the camel and try to be consistent. A single portière, especially if it be of the rag-carpet style, has a greater dust-collecting capacity than a whole houseful of wooden floors, ceilings and wainscots, even when they are moulded and ornamentally wrought. Surely they will not be troublesome if they are plain and simple, and only think how much more interesting than flat square walls and ceilings, which we feel compelled to cover with some sort of decoration to make them endurable. I suppose architects have outgrown the sheet-iron and stucco style of building, and do not generally approve of 'graining' honest pine in imitation of coarse-grained chestnut. But these are not the only concealments and disguises that ought to be reformed. If we cannot make our house a model in any other respect, I hope it will be free from hypocrisy and silly affectations." "By all means; but you mustn't forget that reformers risk martyrdom. However, you can't be too honest for me; I am ready to sign any pledge you offer, even though it prohibit paint, putty and all other cloaks for poverty, ignorance and dishonesty." "There's a time and place for paint and putty, lath, plaster and paper, but we ought not to be helplessly dependent upon them." "Have you any idea how the house will look outside," asked Jack, giving the fire a poke, "or is that to be left to take care of itself?" "No, indeed! not left to take care of itself. In that part of the undertaking we are bound to believe that the architect is wiser than we, and must accept in all humility what he decrees. Still I think the law of domestic architecture at least should be 'from within out.' For the sake of the external appearance it ought not to be necessary to make the rooms higher or lower than we want them for use, neither larger nor more irregular in shape. It ought not to be necessary to build crooked chimneys for the sake of a dignified standing on the roof, or to make a pretense of a window where none is needed. The windows are for you and me to look out from and to let in the sunlight, not for the benefit of outside observers, and should be treated accordingly. We will not have big posts--mullions, do you call them?--in the middle of them, as there are in these. When I try to look down the street to see if you are coming home I can scarcely see obliquely to the corner of the lot, and we don't get half as much sunshine as we should if the windows were all in one." [Illustration: WITH A MULLION AND WITHOUT.] "Why not, if there's the same amount of glass?" "Because the sun can't shine around a corner; and Jack, why did you set them so near the floor? There's no chance for a seat under them, and they do not give as much light or ventilation as they would if they ran nearly up to the ceiling." "What is the use of making them long at the top? They are always half covered up with lambrequins or some fanciful contrivance." "Indeed, they will not be; our windows will be arranged to be wholly uncovered whenever we need the light. Too many windows are not so unmanageable as too many doors, and I should like one room with a whole broadside of glass; but for most rooms the fewer windows the better, provided they are broad and high. I despise a room in which you can't sit down without being in front of a window or walk around without running against a door, that has no large wall spaces for pictures and no room for a piano, a book-case, a cabinet or a large lounge. A small room, that has doors or windows on all sides does not seem like a room intended for permanent occupation, but rather as a sort of outer court or vestibule belonging to something farther on." "I suppose the architect will claim the porches, balconies, and things of that sort, as belonging to the exterior, and design them as he pleases; but I think we have a right to insist that they shall add to our comfort. They must be large enough to be used, they must be put where we can use them conveniently, and they must not interfere with the interior arrangements; beyond that we shall accept what the architect sets before us." "'Asking no questions for conscience sake.' How about the roof--is that also a matter of evolution?" "No; because the inside of the roof is of but little consequence. It must keep out the rain and wind, snow and ice; it must be strong and economically built and have a reasonable amount of light. The rest we shall leave to the architect. As Uncle Harry observes, 'the material part of the house rests upon the foundation stones; its spiritual character is displayed chiefly in the roof, which may change to an unlimited extent the expression of the building it covers.'" [Illustration: JACK'S ARCHITECTURAL PHRENOLOGY.] "That's so. Let me make the roofs for a people and I care not who builds the houses. The roof on the house is like the hat on the man, as I can show you," said Jack, taking a piece of charcoal from the stove and drawing on the back of the fireboard some astonishing illustrations of his theory. "Here is the president of a big corporation who must be dignified whether he has a soul or not. He represents the 'renaissance.' No nonsense about him, no sentiment, no sympathy, no anything but--himself and his own magnificence." "This fellow is a brakeman--prompt, efficient, laconic. Same head, you see, but different hat. He stands for the hipped roof which has one duty to do and does it." [Illustration: THE HAT MAKES THE MAN.] "Give the dignified president a smashing blow on the head and you see what he may become after an unsuccessful defalcation--an unfortunate tramp, who has 'seen better days.' He is a capital illustration of the roofs called 'French,' that were so imposing a few years ago, and are about as agreeable in the way of landscape decoration as the tramp himself, but not half so picturesque. "Pull the string again and we have a benevolent 'broad-brim,' stiff, symmetrical and proper to the last degree, like an Italian villa; and, once more changing the straight lines to crooked ones, the conventional formalist becomes the unconventional, free-and-easy South-westerner, who may stand for Swiss or any other go-as-you-please style." "It is midnight and the fire is out; let's adjourn." [Illustration.] CHAPTER IX. PROFESSIONAL ETIQUETTE--BLINDS AND BESSIE. The next demonstration from the architect was a pencil drawing of the floor plans, submitted for inspection and criticism. Concerning these he wrote to Jill's entire satisfaction. "From many of my clients I should expect the first question would be, 'Will a house built in this shape look well outside?' It is not necessary to remind you that at this stage of the proceedings such an inquiry is wholly irrelevant. The interior arrangements should be made without a thought of the exterior effect, precisely as if the house were to wear the ring of Gyges and be forever invisible to outsiders. There are several points, however, on which I await further instructions----" "What's the use of having an architect," Jack inquired, "if you've got to keep instructing him all the time?" ----"provided you wish to give instructions," Jill continued reading. "There is often a misunderstanding between architect and client, and I wish to avoid it in the present case by saying at the outset that while there are many things which, in my opinion, should be referred to you, I am ready to decide them for you if you wish me to do so; but even in such cases I prefer to set before you the arguments pro and con, after which, if you still desire it, I shall accept the arbitration. This is not a rule that works both ways or applies universally, for while referring to you matters relating to use and expenditure, and at the same time standing ready to decide them for you, I cannot promise to accept your advice in matters of construction and design. I trust I have not yet reached the fossiliferous state of mind that prevents my listening with sincere respect to candid suggestions, even from those who are not fairly competent to give advice; but on these points you must not expect me to follow your taste and judgment in opposition to my own, even if you do pay the bills. When your physician prescribes arsenic and you inform him that you shall give it to your poodle and take strychnine instead, he will doubtless infer that his services are no longer desired; he will know that while he might be able to kill you, he could not hope to cure you. Patients have rights that physicians are bound to respect, but the right to commit suicide and ruin the physician's reputation is not among them. The relations of client and architect are similar. "This is one of the questions which I refer to you, but will answer for you if you send it back: How shall the eyes of the house be closed? Shall the eyelids be outside blinds, inside folding shutters, 'Queen Anne' rolling blinds, sliding blinds or Venetian shades? There are good reasons for and against each kind; either, if adopted, compels some compromise. Whichever road you take you will wish you had taken the other. [Illustration: THE CONTRIBUTION OF BESSIE'S FATHER.] "For instance, in hot weather outside blinds that shield the glass from the direct rays of the sun keep the rooms cooler than any form of inside shutters; they allow a gradation of light and a free circulation of air. You can even leave the window open during a summer shower without danger of being drenched. Last but not least they are inexpensive. The wrong side of the outside blinds appears when you wish to make wide windows, or mullioned windows, or windows that cannot command at each side an unobstructed wall space equal to at least half their own width for the blinds to rest against when open. Under such circumstances, which are by no means rare, outside blinds are stubbornly unmanageable. "Inside blinds that fold back and swing away from the windows must have wide recessed jambs to hold them when they are not in use. If the windows are broad these 'pockets' will require a thick wall and thus increase the actual size of the house. A little space may be saved by allowing them to stand out obliquely when open, or turn around upon the inside face of the wall, but either mode increases the cost of finishing the rooms. If these blinds are made of open slats, many housekeepers despise them as being no better than small cabinets maliciously contrived to accumulate dust; if of solid panels, they make a room perfectly dark, or when opened ever so slightly admit unbroken rays of sunlight. On the other hand, inside blinds are accessible; they can be opened and closed without leaning half one's length out of the window; they do not hide the glory of plate glass; they graciously permit windows to stand where they please and to be as large as they please; and they never quarrel with piazza roofs, awnings, hoods or other outside accessories. "Shutters that coil up into a box over the window or down into a box below it have the modest excellence of being always out of the way when they are not wanted, of staying where they are put when partially open, of occupying but little space and never standing in the way of the window curtains. They are, in fact, wooden shades similar to the old-fashioned green slat curtains, that were rolled up by drawing a cord, but are far more substantial. The single slats of which they are composed do not revolve, and consequently it is not easy to 'peep through the blind just to hear the band play.' "Venetian shades, with their multiplicity of bright-colored straps, cords, hooks and trimmings, are picturesque and graceful. They are somewhat subject to dust and repairs, and when the window is open are not proof against tornadoes and thunder showers. "Inside blinds are sometimes contrived to slide sideways, like barn doors, into cavities formed to receive them. If built with extreme care and handled with the utmost tenderness they are a degree less obtrusive than when wholly dependent on hinges. Likewise, outside blinds may be contrived to swing horizontally as well as vertically, standing out from the top of the window like a small shed roof. They are not quite wide enough to serve as awnings, and are liable to catch more wind than they can hold." "It strikes me that the whole thing is a 'blind.' What is he driving at?" "The conclusion of the matter seems to be given in this sentence: 'You will perceive, therefore, that a decision in regard to blinds should be made even before the house is staked out, since the size of the foundation itself may be affected by it, as well as the minor details.'" "I'm ready for the question; are you?" "Yes. In the bay windows and for the long windows that give access to the balconies and piazzas we will have blinds that roll up out of the way. A few of the windows on the sunny side will have for summer use outside blinds, a few more will have cloth awnings. The most of the windows will have no blinds at all, only such shades and curtains as we choose to furnish. I don't think the eyes of a house ought to be closed much of the time. It is certainty absurd to hang blinds at all the windows when we only need them at a few." "Oh, but won't the neighbors rage and imagine vain things when they see a house with here and there a blind and here and there an awning?" "The wise ones will approve; the foolish ones will demonstrate their folly by criticising what they don't understand." "Very well, that point is settled. Unless the next is sharp and short you must decide it without my help. It is high time I was at the office." "We will defer them all. It is time for me to be at my household duties. You know Cousin Bessie comes this afternoon, and I've noticed that extremely intellectual people are sometimes extremely fond of a good dinner." "If Bessie is coming I must anoint my beard with oil of sunflowers and trot out my old gold slippers. Shall I send up some pale lilies for dessert? And that reminds me--Jim came home last night and I asked the old fellow to come up to dinner. How do you suppose Bess found it out?" "Don't be spiteful, Jack. She didn't find it out at all. I invited her a week ago. Now go to the office, please, while I put the house in order." During this important process Jill entertained herself by philosophical reflection upon the style of living that requires a house to be constantly "put in order." She recalled certain of Uncle Harry's observations to the effect that in a truly civilized state housekeeping would be so conducted and houses would be so contrived that instead of causing care and labor proverbially endless, housekeepers would no more be burdened by their domestic duties than are the fowls of the air. Jill had too much of the rare good sense, incorrectly called "common," to attempt to reduce Uncle Harry's theories to practice all at once. She knew that though we may not reach the summit of our ambition, it is well to advance toward it even by a single step, or failing in that, to help prepare a way for some one else. She understood the wisdom of striving to increase the fraction of life by dividing the denominator, and at the same time cherished the broader hope that her life and her home might be filled with whatever is of most enduring worth. Moralizing thus, but always with an architectural or house-building background, she continued her work, noticing the sharp grooves and projecting mouldings that caught the dust, the high, ugly thresholds, the doors that swung the wrong way, compelling half a dozen extra steps in passing through them; shelves that were too high or too narrow; drawers that refused to "draw" or dropped helplessly on the floor as soon as they were drawn out far enough to display the spoons and spices they contained; window stools that came down behind tables and shelves, forming a sort of receptacle for lost articles belonging to the kitchen or pantry--all of which she resolved should not be repeated. When Bessie arrived the house was in that most perfect order which gives no sign of unusual preparation. [Illustration: FIRST FLOOR OF THE CONTRIBUTION.] "This is too perfectly lovely for anything," exclaimed Bessie. "I just _dote_ on domestic duties. You can't help being overpoweringly happy, Jill, with such a home and _such_ a husband. Then only to think of the new house drives me completely frantic. What _will_ it be like? Are the plans made? Oh! I do hope not, for I have a _million_ of things to tell you about that are totally _unspeakable_." "Then you are just in time. We had a long letter from the architect this morning asking for instructions on various matters." "How perfectly fascinating! Let's sit down this minute and begin upon them." But Jill preferred waiting till Jack came home, bringing with him his younger brother, just home for summer vacation. "It isn't necessary to announce dinner," said she. "The preliminary odors have already advertised it through the entire house." "I thought these observations were to be strictly confidential," observed Jack. "That wasn't 'finding fault.' It was a mere casual remark. Some people may think it pleasanter to be summoned by the odor of broiling fish than by the noise of a dinner-bell." "Indeed I do," said Bessie, taking Jack's proffered arm. "Odors are too delicious for anything. They are so refined and spiritual I'm sure I could live on them. I would far prefer the fragrance of a dish of strawberries to the fruit itself." "We shall get along capitally then. You can smell of the berries and I'll eat them afterwards. You see now, Jill, the advantage of having a house built like this. Cousin Bessie proposes that we live on the fragrance of the food. It won't be necessary even to come to the dining-room. We can all stay in the parlor or in our chambers and absorb sustenance from the circumambient air, as the sprightly goldfish gathers honey from the inside of a glass ball." "Please don't make fun of me, Cousin Jack, for I do truly _revel_ in fragrance, and I'm sure your house is _beautifully_ planned. Don't you think so, Mr. James?" "I realty don't know much about such things. I never did like to know what I was going to have for dinner long beforehand--it makes me so awfully hungry." "Precisely so, Jim; it gives you am appetite. I had the house planned in this way for that very purpose." "Now that you have introduced the subject," said Jill, "I will tell you how _I_ should have planned it. There should have been a 'cut-off' somewhere--a little lobby between the kitchen and the rest of the house, with a ventilating flue so large that neither smoke nor steam nor perfumed air could pass it without being caught up and carried to the sky. Of course these odors ought not to get away from the ventilator above the range, but the best contrivances are not proof against the carelessness of the cook when she is in a hurry--as she always is just before dinner." When they returned to the sitting-room Bessie brought down a set of plans her father had sent for Jack and Jill to examine, thinking they would suit their lot and taste. They did suit the lot fairly, but Jill's mind was too fully made up to accept any change from her own plan. The exterior she approved cordially, but to Bessie's despair would not promise to imitate it, preferring to leave the outside to her architect without reserve. While they were spoiling their eyes in the twilight Jack pressed the electric "button" that lighted the gas instantaneously all over the house, causing Bessie to cry out in protest against such a sudden transition. "It is so violent, so unlike the slow, sweet processes of nature. I never shall learn to like gas, and the electric light is absolutely _horrid_. Don't you love tapers, Mr. James?" "Tapirs? I don't think I'm a judge; I never had one. I should rather have a tame zebra." "Oh, I mean tapers for light!" "Excuse me--certainly: yes, that is, I think I do. We don't use them very often. Do you mean tallow or wax?" "Wax, of course! They have such elegant decorations on them. I had a most exquisite sconce Christmas, with two of the loveliest tapers completely covered with Moorish arabesques in crimson and old gold." "What becomes of the decorations when the tapers burn up?" "Well, we don't burn them much. Indeed, I don't think we ought to use artificial light at all. The mysterious light of the moon and stars is so much more enchanting. Don't you love to muse and dream in the fading twilight?" "No, not very well. The trouble is if I get to sleep before I go to bed I don't sleep as well afterward." "Oh, I don't mean actual dreams, but vague, dreamy musings, esthetic aspirations and longings. Do you never long for abstract beauty?" "Well, no, not long. If I can't get what I want pretty quick I generally go for something else." This irrelevant conversation was vastly entertaining to Jack, who, knowing how unlike were the dispositions of his brother and his wife's cousin, had contrived their meeting with special reference to his own amusement. When the clock told the hour for retiring he brought Bessie a tin candlestick, in which a tallow candle smoked and spluttered in a feeble way, but filled the soul of the young lady with admiration, it was so "full of feeling." "Life is so much richer when our environment is illuminated and glorified--" "By tapers," said Jack as he bade her an affectionate good-night. CHAPTER X. MORE QUESTIONS OF FIRE AND WATER. "We must devote this evening exclusively to the new house," said Jill, as Jack started for his office. "The architect is waiting for instructions, and every day we lose now will give us another day of vexation and impatience when we are waiting for the house to be finished." "That's true, and it's a chronological fact that house-builders often forget. Very well, I'll come home early. Will Bessie be here?" "Certainly. She has come for a long visit." "Then I shall bring up Jim again. One-half Bess says he can't understand, and he doesn't approve of the other half; but we couldn't keep him away if we tried. So we'll invite him to come. It's great fun to hear Bessie's comments and witness Jim's helplessness." "If you are going to devote yourself to Jim and Bessie," said Jill severely, "I may as well answer these questions without consulting you at all." "Oh, pray don't do that. Give me a chance to express my opinions. Some of them are strikingly bold and original. Besides, you will need me to conduct the meeting." It happened, accidentally of course, that Bessie's evening dress was of a color that looked well by gaslight, and no objection was made to the unnatural illumination. Jill took up the architect's letter, where she had left it, at the conclusion of the blind question. "Another point that was mentioned when I was at your father's house must be decided soon: Shall there be gutters to catch the water from the roof, with pipes of some sort to convey it to the ground, or shall it be left to take care of itself? If there are none, the ground around the house should pitch sharply away from the walls and a slight depression should be formed, into which the water would fall. This shallow ditch should be perhaps two feet wide, as the drops will not always come down in straight lines. It may be paved with small stones or bricks, between which the grass will grow, or it maybe more carefully lined with asphalt paving. If it is desired to conduct the water to a certain point, this drain can descend slightly toward it, and, if the lawn will not be injured by an occasional inundation, even the shallow ditch may be omitted, making merely a one-sided slope, hardened to prevent the water from wearing a ragged, unsightly channel around the house. The advantages of disposing of the water in this way, dispensing with the gutters, are its economy and its permanence. Whatever the material may be of which they are made, gutters attached to the eaves or roof cause more or less trouble and expense from the time they are put in place till the house is given up to the owls and the bats. They are liable to be corroded by rust, to be clogged with leaves and dust, to be choked with ice, or to become loosened from their fastenings. If used at all, they should be frankly acknowledged. This is not, however, a point on which I am in need of instructions, but would remind you that one of the interesting illustrations of the happy skill of the old masters in making a virtue of necessity is found in the effective treatment of the waterspouts and conductors. They made them bold, quaint and picturesque in appearance, far removed from the tin contrivances that we hang in frail awkwardness to our roofs." [Illustration: A GARGOYLE] "How perfectly delightful!" exclaimed Bessie. "Those horribly grotesque old gargoyles are just glorious. Don't you delight in the antique, Mr. James, when it isn't too horrible?" "Yes, they are awfully jolly. We had a great time with them last 'Fourth.' I got myself up as a pirate king--black flag, skull and cross-bones, you know. It was awfully jolly." "I never saw any of that kind, but you _will_ have some gargoyles, won't you, Jill?" "Possibly, for the architect says' whether you have gutters entirely around the house or not; it will doubtless be necessary to catch the water that would fall upon the steps or balconies in short eave-troughs, and as they are certain to be conspicuous they should be respectfully treated. As they add to the comfort of the house they should also add to its beauty.' Now what shall be said on this subject? His opinion appears to be that if we do not need to save the water for use, and if it will do no harm upon the ground around the house, it will be best to omit them except where protection is needed for something below. He sends some sketches and says 'they represent a few of the methods by which the water may be caught and carried to the ground. Number two and number three will prevent the sliding of the snow from the roof, which is sometimes desirable, but not always. Gutters made in this form should be so near the eaves that in case of accidental injury the water could not find its way inside the main walls. Number five has the advantage of leaving the house uninjured whatever happens to the gutter itself. It may leak through its entire length or run over on both sides without doing other harm than wasting the water.' I don't see," said Jill, laying down the letter, "how we can give instructions without dictating in matters of 'construction and design,' concerning which the architect distinctly objects to advice." [Illustration: A CHOICE OF GUTTERS.] "Tell him we don't care what becomes of the water and the lawn will take care of itself. Then 'instruct' him to exercise his own discretion. That's what he is for. What next?" "He would like to know our wishes in regard to fireplaces." "I thought the heating question had been decided once according to Uncle Harry's doctrines." "Not fully. We shall have both steam and open fires; the architect understands that, but he doesn't know how many fireplaces nor what kind. We can tell him how many easily enough: one in each room of the first story except the kitchen, but including the hall, and one in each of the bed-rooms." [Illustration: "A SIMPLE RECESS."] "Including the guest chambers?" "By all means. There is nothing that makes one feel so thoroughly welcome, so delightfully at home as a room with an open fire. Mahogany four-posters, velvet carpets and sumptuous fare are trivial compliments in comparison. Concerning the style and cost he says: 'Of designs there is an endless variety, and there is a wide range in cost, from the simple recess in the side of a plain brick chimney'--" "One of the kind that Aunt Melville builds for a dollar and a quarter." "'--to the elaborate affairs that cost as much as a comfortable cottage. It would be idle for me to attempt to give you a full description of them all--my letter would appear like a manufacturer's catalogue. Indeed, you can find whole books on the subject, large books too, which it will be interesting and profitable for you to study; but first it is necessary to lay out the chimneys to accommodate the sizes and styles to be chosen. You will easily understand that a grate for burning coal alone, especially hard coal, may be much smaller than a fireplace to hold hickory logs that it takes two men to carry; but the heat of anthracite coal would soon destroy the lining of a fireplace adapted to an ordinary fire of wood. It cannot be necessary to remind you that the best open fireplaces, whether for wood or coal, are those which, instead of sending three-fourths of the heat up the chimney flue, give it out from all sides, to be saved either directly or by being conveyed to an adjoining or upper room. It is also possible to make a fireplace that will accommodate either wood or coal, but like all compromises this is attended with certain disadvantages. If large enough for wood it is too large for hard coal. The smoke flue for a coal fire may also be smaller, the hotter fire causing the stronger draught. Coal ashes, too, ought to be dropped through the hearth into ash pits below, even from the fires of the upper rooms. To "take up the ashes" of a wood fire is not so troublesome. These are some of the reasons why it is necessary to determine the kind and number of your fireplaces before the plans of the chimneys are drawn.'" [Illustration: IN THE MIDDLE RANK.] "Why not make an appropriation of fifty dollars apiece for each grate, mantel and hearth, and have him do the best he can with it?" "We can fix that as an average price, but shall want some better than others, and must mark in each room whether we wish to provide for wood, for coal, or for both. That is, whether we want 'set' grates or open fireplaces with andirons or something of that kind." "Oh, do have andirons. _Please_ have andirons," said Bessie. "You know you can go out into the country and buy them for old brass of the farmers who haven't the remotest idea of their value. They keep them up in those dear old musty garrets covered with dust and spider webs." "Certainly, we will have a few andirons and several spinning-wheels and moony clocks and solid old carved oak chests that for generations have been full of moths and food for worms. I never happened to come across one of those old bonanza garrets, but I suppose there are plenty of them lying around and just running over with these antique treasures. Jim, can't I hire you to go out among the unesthetic heathens and buy up a few loads of heirlooms and other relics of former greatness? We shall want some old associations in the new house, and if we haven't any of our own we must buy some." "I don't think I know much about such things. Why don't you go to a furniture store and get what you want first-hand? Second-hand furniture always looks shabby and out of date. However, if Miss Bessie could go with me to pick out things, I wouldn't mind taking a drive into the country to see what we could find." [Illustration: THE WORTH OF A COSY COTTAGE.] "Now, really, wouldn't you mind it? How enchanting! It will be delightful to be associated with the new house. I know we shall find some _lovely_ things." "All right. You shall have Bob and the express wagon to-morrow. What next, Jill?" "'I should be glad to know your feeling in regard to height of rooms, but shall not promise fully to agree with you. My purpose is to make the principal rooms of the first story ten and a-half or eleven feet high.'" "Oh, how dreadful! I don't know how high eleven feet is, but I'm sure they ought not to be more than seven feet." "I thought you were going to say not less than fourteen," said Jim. "Oh, no, indeed! Low rooms are so deliciously quaint and cosy." "But I should be all the time expecting to hit my head." "You wouldn't think of that for a moment if you could only feel the influence of Kitty Kane's library. It is a copy of an old English bar-room, or something of that sort, I don't exactly remember what, but it is in the Queen Anne style, and it's too lovely for anything. Please have low rooms, Jill." Jill continued reading: "For rooms of ordinary sizes and devoted to ordinary domestic purposes, that is high enough for use, for comfort and for any reasonable amount of decoration, either upon the walls themselves or in the shape of pictures or other ornaments. You will certainly think it enough when you are climbing the stairs to the rooms of the second story. It may be practicable to reduce the height of some of the smaller apartments, but it is usually much more convenient to keep the ceilings of the main rooms of uniform height, even if this does upset the 'correct proportion' which critics attempt in vain to establish. To make ceilings very low seems an affectation of humility or of antiquity not justified by common sense. In the polar regions, where the sun never reaches an altitude above twenty-three degrees, low rooms and short windows would be entirely satisfactory. In the torrid zone, where it is not safe to build more than one story for fear of earthquakes and tornadoes, where chambers would be useless, and where the grand question is not how to keep warm but how to keep cool, the higher the better. For houses in the temperate zones the medium height is the safest, the best--and the most _artistic_. If any one dares to say it is not, ask him to tell you the reason why." "How perfectly _exasperating_," said Bessie in a tragic aside to Jim. "No one ought to try to give reasons in art, in religion or in politics. Intuitions are so much more satisfactory. Don't you _always_ rely on your intuitions, Mr. James?" "Perhaps I should if I had them, but somehow I--I never seem to have any." "The meeting appears to be divided," said Jack. "Bessie says seven, Jim says fourteen. Suppose we split the difference and call it ten and a half." "That is, we advise the architect to do as he pleases, then he will be sure to follow our advice." CHAPTER XI. WHAT SHALL WE STAND UPON? "Splitting the difference" is a convenient compromise, but it is not always creditable to both parties, and Jill thought it would not be safe with such advisers to assume that Wisdom's house is always built between two extremes. She felt, too, that the architect's discussion of details must be tiresome to her guests, and therefore resolved to take up but one more of his queries, spending the remainder of the evening in looking over plans and letters, of which she had an ample store still unexplored, or in listening to Bessie's ardent description of the treasures she hoped to find in the lofty recesses of the old garrets. "I fear the next topic will not be deeply interesting, but it is the last one to-night, and Jack _must_ give me his undivided attention if he wishes to know what we are to stand upon in the new house." "Is it about floors?" Bessie asked. "Do please have waxed floors. I dote on waxed floors, don't you, Mr. James?" "Not especially; but I'm pretty apt to slip on them. _Is_ it about floors, Jill?" "Yes, but chiefly about the best way to build them--their construction." [Illustration: A PROMISE OF SOCIAL SUCCESS.] "I thought the architect was to settle questions of construction to suit himself." "He is, and this topic he writes 'concerns construction, cost, use and design, and is, therefore, one on which we may properly take counsel together.'" "How condescending!" [Illustration: A REASONABLE HOPE.] "I suppose you would object to iron girders with brick arches between them on account of their cost, but I hope to see rolled iron beams for brick dwelling-houses so cheaply made that they will be commonly used instead of wood. Such iron ribs, with the brick arches or other masonry between them, might well form the finish of the ceilings, and if we were accustomed to see them, our frail lath and plaster would seem stale, flat and combustible in comparison. The usual mode of making floors of thin joists set edgewise, from one to two feet apart, with one or two thicknesses of inch boards on the top to walk upon, and lathing underneath to hold the plastering, is perhaps the most economical use of materials. A more satisfactory construction would be to use larger beams two or three times as far apart, laying thicker planks upon them and dispensing with plastering altogether, or perhaps applying it between the timbers directly to the under-side of the planks, leaving the beams themselves in sight. If the floor is double the planks or boards lying directly upon the joists may be of common, coarse stock, hemlock or spruce, upon which must be laid another thickness of finished boards. It is for you to say whether the finished upper floor shall be of common, cheap stock, to be always covered by carpets, or of some harder wood carefully polished and not concealed at all, except by occasional rugs.'" "Oh, I do _hope_ she will have rugs!" Bessie's remarks were semi-asides addressed chiefly to Jim. "There's nothing so lovely as these oriental rugs. Kitty Kane had an _exquisite_ one among her wedding presents, and when her house was built the parlor was made to fit the rug. It makes it rather long and narrow, but the rug is _too_ lovely." "'It is also for you to say whether the finished floor, if you have no carpets, shall consist simply of plain narrow boards or be more expensively laid in parquetry designs. In the latter case I shall claim the privilege of choosing the pattern.'" "Why should he trouble himself about the pattern of the wood floors any more than he would about the style of the carpets?" "He would probably say, because the floors are a part of the house for which he is making the plans and will last as long as the house itself, while the carpets are subject to changing fashions and will soon return to their original dust. But he may attempt to dictate in regard to carpets if we give him a chance." [Illustration: FLOORS AS THEY ARE.] [Illustration: FLOORS AS THEY MIGHT BE.] "Undoubtedly--to the extent of pitching them out of the window." "In laying double floors one simple matter must not be neglected. The under, or lining boards, which are usually wide and imperfectly seasoned, should be laid _diagonally_ upon the joists; otherwise in their shrinking and swelling they will move the narrow finished boards resting upon them and cause ugly cracks to appear, even though the upper floor is most carefully laid and thoroughly seasoned. The liberal use of nails is another obvious but often neglected duty of floor-makers, who seem, at times to act upon the supposition that as a floor has nothing to do but lie still and be trodden upon, it only needs to be laid in place and let alone. This may be true of stone flagging; it is far from being true of inch boards, that have an incurable tendency to warp, twist, spring and shake. Lining floors, especially, whatever their thickness, should be nailed--spiked is a more forcible term--to every possible bearing and with generous frequency; to be specific, say every three inches. The finished hoards must also be secured by nails driven squarely through them. If you object to the appearance of nail heads the boards may be secured by nails driven through the edges in such way that they will be out of sight when the floor is finished; but this should never be done except by skillful and conscientious workmen. There is no excuse for this "blind" nailing in floors that are to be covered by carpets, and it is seldom desirable under any circumstances. All thorough nailing adds greatly to the strength, and will alone prevent the creaking of the boards, so annoying in a sick room and so discouraging to burglars.'" "Whatever else we do we must make it all right for the burglars. Tell him we will have floors that can be used either way, with rugs or without, with matting, with carpets, or with nothing at all but their own unadorned loveliness. Those in the chambers, where there is not much wear and tear, may be of common clear pine, and we can paint or stain a border around the edges. The others ought to be of harder wood, and, as they will last as long as we shall need floors, we can afford to have them cost rather more than a good carpet, perhaps thirty or forty cents a square foot." "I don't see the necessity for that," said Jill, who had a frugal mind--at times. "I know they will outlast a great many carpets, but it is considerable work to keep a bare floor in order--or rather to put it in order--which must be taken into account; and, as for saving the expense of carpets, we shall be likely to spend twice as much for rugs as the carpets would cost. However, extravagance in rugs is not the fault of the hard-wood floors and ought not to be charged against them. We might have a few parquetry floors, but for most of the rooms plain narrow strips, with a pretty border, will be good enough. What do you think about it, Jim?" While Jim was preparing to say that he didn't think he knew much about such things, there came a crash on the floor above, followed by loud and incoherent observations by the chambermaid. The chandelier began to shake, as that substantial domestic fairy flew through the passage that led to the back stairs, at the head of which she was distinctly heard to exhort the cook in good set terms to "hurry up with the mop, for the water-jug was upset and the mistress would be raving if the water came through the ceiling." The quartette below listened with conflicting emotions. Jill was indignant, Bessie horrified--apparently, Jim greatly amused, and Jack sublimely indifferent. "If there's anything I _despise_," said Jill, "it is a house that makes a human being seem like an elephant, and where I can't say my prayers or move a chair in my own room without rousing the entire household." "There's one good thing about it," said Jim pleasantly. "You can't help knowing what is going on in your own house." "Spoken like a man and a brother, James. You always go to the root of a matter. I like to keep posted. No skeletons and gunpowder plots for me. I had this house made so on purpose." Whereat they all laughed and again took up the floor question, while the sound of hurrying feet and the rattling of domestic implements went on overhead, and the chandelier trembled with the jarring floors. "I suppose forty dollars' worth of timber originally added to these floors would have made them so firm that we might drive a caravan across them without shaking the building. We will, at least, have solid floors in the new house; but the architect informs us that 'effectual deafening of the floors and partitions necessarily adds considerably to their cost, since the walls and ceilings must be virtually double or filled with some light porous material. The construction I have described for making the house fireproof, or nearly so, would also make it comparatively sound-proof. It would prevent the passage of any reasonable in-door noises, though it might not withstand the stamping of heavy steel-shod feet. Indeed, the question of bare, hard-wood floors is, in one of its aspects, rather a question of boots. It is most unreasonable to say the floors are noisy and slippery when the fault lies rather in the hard, stiff, awkward receptacles in which our feet are imprisoned. If we are ever clad from head to foot in the robes of a perfect civilization, we shall doubtless find smooth bare floors for general use more satisfactory than any kind of rugs, mats or carpets.' "And now," said Jill, "we will leave the rest of this interminable letter for a more convenient season and see what our indefatigable aunt has sent as the latest and best thing in domestic architecture. If you will take the plans and follow the description, I will read the letter straight through, though it will doubtless contain more or less advice not strictly pertinent to house-building. Here it is: "MY DEAR JILL: On further reflection I have concluded that the little cottage plans which I sent last will not answer. I doubt whether you and Jack have sufficient independence and originality to make a success of living; even temporarily, in a small, unpretending cottage. It requires unusual strength of character'-- "Listen, Jack. --to establish and maintain a high social standing with no adventitious aids. You cannot at present afford a large establishment, but you must have one that is striking and elegant. I was first attracted to this house by its external appearance--not especially the form, but the material, as we often see a lady of inferior _physique_ whose rich and tasteful attire makes her the observed of all observers." [Illustration: BRICKS AND BOULDERS ON GRANITE UNDERPINNING.] "Aunt Melville is inclined to be dumpy, and is immensely proud of her taste in dress. "'The walls near the ground--the underpinning, I suppose--is of solid granite blocks, irregular in size, rough and rugged in appearance. Indeed, the impression is of exceeding solidity and strength, perhaps because the walls slope backward as they rise. The first story is also of stones, but such peculiar stones as I never expected to see in a dwelling house, precisely like those used in the country for fences.'" "How exquisite!" exclaimed Bessie, clapping her hands in ecstacy. "'Some of them seemed to be covered with the gray lichens that are found growing on rocks,--' "How delicious!" "'--but I very much fear these will be destroyed by the action of the lime in the mortar. The stones vary in color, and at a little distance the effect is like a rich mosaic. The corners of the house and the sides of the windows are made of peculiarly dark, rough-looking bricks that harmonize well with the general tone of the stone walls. The second story is of wood, covered with shingles that have not been painted, but simply oiled, and they have turned a dark reddish-brown. I found on inquiry that they are California red wood. The roof is of red tiles, and the chromatic effect of the entire building is very charming and aristocratic.'" "That would suit _us_ perfectly," said Jack, "but I think our aristocratic aunt is more tiresome than the architect. Jim is asleep and Bessie is on the verge of slumber." But just at that moment Bessie gave a piercing scream and bounded from the sofa in uncontrollable affright, while an army of reckless June bugs came dashing in through the open, unscreened windows. CHAPTER XII. FROM MATHEMATICS TO ANCIENT BRIC-A-BRAC. Taking advantage of the incursion of the June bugs, Jim withdrew in good order, and Bessie shortly after retired with her tin candlestick. "Do you seriously intend to allow that pair of incompatibles to go off to-morrow looking for old furniture and antiquated household implements?" asked Jill. "Most certainly I do. It will he the greatest fun in the world. I only wish we could go as invisible spectators; but, on the whole, we shall best enjoy imagining what they will say or do if left to their own devices, knowing, as we should, that our presence would prevent some of their wildest absurdities. I'm awfully sorry they are not going to build and furnish a house somewhere in this vicinity, according to their combined notions." "And I am extremely sorry you cannot take your thoughts from Bessie long enough at least to hear the conclusion of Aunt Melville's letter." "My dear, like John Gilpin, 'of womankind I do admire but one.' I shall listen with undivided attention to whatever you lay before my ears. Pray go on." "'I was fortunate enough to get a drawing of the interior of the reception hall, which, while it is simple and inexpensive, is also dignified and impressive. Houses often resemble people, and you will easily recall among your friends certain ones who, without being either wealthy or brilliant, are still very impressive. The other rooms which we visited are ample for your needs, as you will find it far more advantageous to entertain but few people at a time, and those of the best society, than to have larger and more indiscriminate gatherings. The amount of room in the house is surprising; but that, of course, is because it is so nearly square.'" "That is feminine logic. A man would have said that the size of a house determines the amount of room it contains." "Undoubtedly he would; but it does not," said Jill, decidedly. "I can show you houses that look large and _are_ large, that make great pretensions in point of style, that cost a great deal of money, and yet have no room in them. They have no place for the beds to stand, no room for the doors to swing, no room for a piano, no room for a generous sofa, no room for the book-cases, no room for easy stairs, no room for fireplaces, no room for convenient attendance at the dining-table, no room for wholesome cooking, no room for sick people, no room for fresh air, no room for sunlight, no room for an unexpected guest. They have plenty of rooms, apartments, cells--but no real, generous, comfortable house room." "I suppose Aunt Melville refers to the mathematical fact that a house forty feet square contains more cubic feet than the same length of walls would hold in a more elongated or irregular shape." "By the same rule an octagon or circle would be better still, which is absurd. No; her feminine logic is no worse than yours, and no better. The amount of room a house contains depends neither upon its size nor its shape. Her analogy, too, is at fault when she implies that the outside of a house bears the same relation to the interior that clothing bears to the person who wears it. The art of the tailor and dressmaker has at present no other test of merit than fashion and costliness, elements to which real art, architectural or otherwise, is always and absolutely indifferent. The external aspect of the house should be the natural spontaneous outgrowth of its legitimate use and proper construction, as face, form and carriage express the character of each individual." [Illustration: NOT BRILLIANT BUT IMPRESSIVE.] [Illustration: WOODEN RICHNESS.] Jill spoke with unwonted seriousness and a wisdom beyond her years. Even Jack was impressed for the moment, and expressed a wish to tear down some of the ornamental appendages from his own house. "The piazzas are well enough--that is, they would be if they were twice as wide--but the observatory is good for nothing, because nobody can get into it to observe, unless he crawls along the ridge-pole, and I never did know what all that mess of wooden stuff under the eaves and about the windows was for. I suppose it was intended to give the house a richer look." [Illustration: NO WASTE OF WOOD.] "Yes, it enriches it just as countless rows of puffs, ruffles and flounces, made of coarse cotton cloth with a sewing machine and piled on without regard to grace or comfort, would 'enrich' a lady's dress." "I thought you objected to the dress anology?" "I do, positively, but it appears to have been the theory accepted by modern architects almost universally. I don't see. Jack, that your house is any worse than others in this respect, and I have no doubt it will 'sell' all the better for the superfluous lumber attached to the outside walls." "Thank you, my dear! That is the first good word you have spoken for it. Well, there is one comfort; I am convinced that you didn't commit the reprehensible folly of marrying me for my house." "No, indeed, Jack. It was pure devotion; a desperate case of elective affinity." "And yet we are happily married! _We_ shall never do for the hero and heroine of a modern romance. There isn't a magazine editor or a book publisher that would look at us for a moment." "Let us be thankful--and finish our letter. "'I am anxious, as you know, my dear niece, that you should, begin life in a manner creditable to the family, and I trust you will allow no romantic or utilitarian notions to prevent your conforming to the requirements of good society. This house, in all such respects, will be perfectly satisfactory. I have bought the plans for you from the owner, and I hope you will accept them with my best wishes.' "And that is all, this time. Aunt Melville's notion of a house seems to be a place for entertaining the 'best society.' Her zeal is certainly getting the better of her conscience and judgment. She cannot honestly buy the plans from the owner of the house, because he never owned them; they belong to the architect, and she ought to know better than to advise the use of material that would have to be brought at great expense from a long distance. If cobble-stones and boulders were indigenous in this region, and old stone fences could be had for the asking, I should like to use them, but they are not. It is also evident that she did not penetrate far into the interior of the house or she would have discovered an unpardonable defect--the absence of 'back' stairs. I do not think it very serious in such a plan, where the one flight is near the centre of the house and is not very conspicuous, but Aunt Melville would lie awake nights if she knew there were no back stairs for the servants." [Illustration: FIRST FLOOR OF THE PROMISE.] The next morning Jim appeared with the express wagon, and Bessie climbed upon the high seat beside him under the big brown umbrella, her Gainsborough hat encircled with a garland of white daisies, huge bunches of the same blossoms being attached somewhat indiscriminately to her dress by way of imparting a rural air, and together they drove off in search of old and forgotten household gods. Jill had suggested sending them out to investigate, reporting what they found, and purchasing afterward if thought best, but Jack urged that it would be wiser to secure their treasures at once, lest the thrifty farmers, finding their old heir-looms in demand, should mark up the prices while they were deliberating--a view with which Bessie fully concurred. [Illustration: SECOND FLOOR OF THE PROMISE.] Beguiling the way with the duet that is always so delightful to the performers, whatever the audience may think of it, they followed the pleasant country roads for many miles without finding a castle that seemed to promise desirable plunder. A worn-out horseshoe lying in the road was their first prize. It presaged good luck, and was to be gilded and hung above the library door. At length they came to a typical old farm-house, gray and weather-beaten, but still dignified and well cared for. The big barns stood modestly back from the highway, and the yard about the front door, enclosed by a once white picket fence, was filled with the fragrance of cinnamon roses and syringas. As they drove up at the side of the house across the open lawn, the close cropping of which showed that the cows were wont to take their final bite upon it as they came to the yard at night, they encountered an elderly man carrying a large jug in one hand and apparently just starting for the fields with some refreshing drink for the workmen. "Good morning, sir," said Jim, touching his hat. Bessie smiled and asked, "Are you the farmer?" "Wal, yes ma'am; I suppose I am. Leastways I own the farm and get my living off from it as well as I can--same as my fathers did afore me." "How lovely! Have you got any old--I mean, can you give us a drink of water? We--we happen to be passing and we're very thirsty." "Just as well as not. The well is right behind the house. You can jump down and help yourselves." "You don't mean jump down the well," said Jim, laughing. "Not exactly. Will your horse stand?" "Oh, yes." When Bessie saw the old well-sweep, which for some unaccountable reason had not been swept away by a modern pump, she exclaimed in a stage whisper: "Wouldn't it be glorious if we could carry it home?" Jim found the cool water most refreshing and thought he would rather carry home the well. "What an enormous wood pile," Bessie continued aloud, in a desperate endeavor to lead up to andirons by an unsuspicious route. "Do you burn wood?" "Not so much as we used to. The women folks think they must have it to cook with, but we use coal a good deal in the winter." "Don't you have fireplaces?" was the next innocent question. "Plenty of 'em in the house, but they're mostly bricked up. It takes too big a wood pile to keep 'em going." "So you use stoves instead; I suppose it is less trouble. Oh, and that reminds me, have you any old andirons, anywhere around?" "Shouldn't be surprised if there was. Yes, there's one now, hangin' on the gate right behind you." Bessie, as she afterwards declared, was almost ready to faint at this announcement, but on turning to look she saw indeed, hanging by a chain to keep the gate closed, a dumpy, rusty, cast-iron andiron. "Should you be willing to sell it for old brass? Isn't there a mate to it somewhere? They generally go in pairs, don't they?" "No, I shouldn't want to sell it for old brass, because you see it's iron. Most likely there was a pair of 'em once, but there's no tellin' where t'other one is now. Maybe in the suller and maybe in the garret." "Please could we go up in the garret and look for it? We will be very careful." The worthy man, considerably puzzled to know what sort of angels he was entertaining unawares, obtained permission from the "women folks," sent a boy off with the jug of drink and showed his callers to the topmost floor of the house. "Oh, oh! If there isn't a real spinning-wheel. This passes my wildest anticipations," murmured Bessie to Jim; then, restraining her enthusiasm for fear of spoiling a bargain, she inquired aloud: "Do any of your family spin?" "No, no; not now-a-days. My old mother vised to get the wheel out now and then, when I was a youngster, but it's broke now and part of it is lost." "Would you sell it?" "If it isn't all here--" Jim began, but Bessie checked him and eagerly accepted the old wheel, which had lost its head and two or three spokes, for the moderate sum of one dollar. Rummaging among old barrels, Jim found the missing half of the pair of andirons. One broken leg seemed to add to its value in Bessie's eyes and she quickly closed a bargain for them at fifteen cents, which their owner, after "hefting" them, "guessed" would be about their value for old iron. One old chair, minus a back and extremely shaky as to its legs, and another that had lost a rocker and never had any arms, were secured for a nominal price, and Bessie's attention was then attracted to a tall wooden vessel hooped like a barrel, but more slender, "big at the bottom and small at the top," which proved to be an old churn. Jim objected to this until his companion explained how it could be transformed by a judicious application of old gold and crimson into a most artistic umbrella stand, while the "dasher" would make a striking ornament for the hall chimney-piece. As they were about to depart with their treasures, the honest farmer invited them to look at a ponderous machine five or six feet high and nearly as broad--a horrid monster, misshapen and huge, that stood in the back chamber over the wood-shed. It was a cheese-press. "How magnificent!" whispered Bessie, and then, turning to their host, inquired--"Do you use it every day?" "Oh, law, no! Hain't used it this twenty years. Make all the cheese at the factory. It's kind of a queer old thing and I thought maybe you would like to see it. 'Tain't likely you will ever see another just like it." "_Would_ you be willing to sell it?" "Of course, I'd be willing enough, only it don't seem just right to sell a thing that ain't good for anything but firewood. However, if you really want it you may have it for a dollar and a-half, and I'll have the hired men load it up for you." "Now, really, Miss Bessie," said Jim, when the farmer had gone to call the men, "don't you think it's rather a clumsy affair? We can hardly get it into the express wagon, and I don't see where they can put it if we carry it home." "Clumsy! no, indeed, it's _massive_, it's _grand_! There will be plenty of room in the new house. They will have one entire room for bric-a-brac." "But what can they _do_ with it? They won't make cheese." "Can't you see what a _delicious_ cabinet it will make? These posts and things can all be carved and decorated, and it will be perfectly _unique_. There isn't such a cabinet in the whole city of New York. Oh, I think our trip has been an _immense_ success already. I shall always believe in horseshoes after this; but _isn't_ it a pity we can't carry home the well-sweep?" The huge machine had to be taken from the shed chamber in sections, but was properly put together again in the wagon by the hired men, and made the turnout look like a small traveling juggernaut. Just before starting: Bessie espied, leaning against the fence, a hen-coop from which the feathered family had departed, and explaining to Jim that if the sides were painted red and the bars gilded it would be a charming ornament for the front porch, persuaded him to add that to their already imposing load. Then they departed, leaving the farmer and his men in doubt whether to advertise a pair of escaped lunatics or accept their visitors as "highly cultured" members of modern society. When they reached home Jack had just come in from the office. He looked out of the window as they drove up, felt his strength suddenly give way, and rolled on the floor in convulsions. "Less than five dollars for the whole lot, did you say, Jim? I wouldn't have missed _seeing_ that load for fifty." The next day was Sunday. Monday afternoon Bessie went home. CHAPTER XIII. ECONOMY, CLEANLINESS AND HEALTH. "Dirt is matter out of place," quoted Uncle Harry, in one of his erratic epistles which Jack and Jill always read with interest if not profit. "When you find anything that seems unclean or offensive in any part of your house, remember this: the fault is not in the thing itself, but in your ignorant or thoughtless management. There isn't a material thing in the universe, whatever its name or characteristic qualities maybe; not a flaunting weed nor an unseen miasmatic vapor, which is not created for some good and wise purpose. It is for us to learn those purposes. The grand secret of safe and comfortable living lies in keeping yourself and everything about you in the right place. I hear much of the dangers and annoyances that arise from modern plumbing. I am not surprised by them; on the contrary, I wonder they are not more numerous and fatal, since nothing is more inconsistent with the first principles of comfort and health than our relations to these 'modern conveniences.' Instead of disposing of what are incorrectly called waste materials according to nature's modes, we persist in defying her examples and her laws, even after we fully understand them, and, in the vain hope of adding to our own case, bring upon ourselves untold calamities. 'Earth to earth' is a mandate that cannot be disregarded with impunity. The infinite laboratories of nature welcome to their crucibles all the strange and awful elements which we fail to comprehend and against which we wage a futile warfare. If all these miscalled 'wastes' that we find so hurtful and offensive when out of place in and around our homes could be consigned to the bosom of mother earth the moment they seem to us worthless, they would be at once changed to life-giving forces, out of which forms of freshness and beauty would arise to fill us with delight. They are willing to serve us whenever we give them an opportunity. The one direct and infallible mode of doing that is to put them in the ground before they have a chance to work us injury. If we bury them, or, rather, plant them, they will bring forth, some thirty, some sixty, some an hundredfold. [Illustration: NO PLACE FOR SECRET FOES.] "It is my impression that sewers were originally invented by the Evil one. He couldn't drag men down to his dominions fast enough, so he moved a portion of his estate to this planet, and lest its true character should be discovered, buried it under paved streets and flowery parks. We might easily and quietly put these crude materials into convenient receptacles, to be carried where they will bless the world by making two ears of corn grow where one grew before. This we could do, each one for ourselves, or more advantageously by cooperating with one another. We are too wasteful, too indolent, too ignorant. Tempted by the invisible sewers we imprison these misplaced and inharmonious elements for a time in lead or iron pipes, while they grow more hostile, occasionally escaping by violence or stealth into our chambers, and then with many nice contrivances and much perishable machinery we try to wash them away with a bucket of water. Not to carry them where they will do any good, not to put them out of existence, but simply to hide them: to send them out of our immediate sight, and very likely into some greater mischief. The system is radically wrong, and while many of its existing evils may be averted, they cannot all be removed till we make our attacks from a different base. Improving sewers, like strengthening prison walls, is a good thing if the institutions remain; to prevent the need of maintaining them would be better still. Three-fourths of the solid wastes that proceed from human dwellings--scraps of food, waste paper, worthless vegetables, worn-out utensils, bones, weeds, old boots and shoes, whatever unmanageable and unnamable rubbish appears--ought to be at once consumed by fire, for which purpose a small cremating furnace should be found in every house. A similar trial by fire would reduce a large part of the liquids and semi-liquids to solid form to be also consumed, and the rest, absorbed by dry earth or ashes, could easily be transported to the barren fields that await the intelligence and power of man to transform them into blooming gardens. "Of the usual modes of bringing water to our houses to wash away these things I know but little, because there is but little to be known. Complications and mysteries are not to my taste. I find no satisfaction in overthrowing a man of straw, and am comparatively indifferent to the rival claims of patentees and manufacturers, except as they promise good material, faithful workmanship and moderate prices. "The one thing needful, if we adopt the hydraulic method of carrying away these waste substances, is a smooth cast-iron pipe running from the ground outside the house in through the lower part and up and out through the roof. It should be open at both ends, and so free from obstruction that a cat, a chimney-swallow or a summer breeze could pass through it without difficulty. I would, however, put screens over the open ends to keep out the cats and the swallows. The purifying breezes should blow through in summer and winter without let or hindrance, and to promote their circulation I would, if possible, place the pipe beside a warm chimney. Yet if the air it contains should sometimes move downward it will do no special harm; anything is better than stagnation. Into this open pipe, which should be not only water-tight but air-tight through its entire length, all waste-pipes from the house should empty as turbid mountain torrents pour into the larger stream that flows through the valley. (Fig. 1.) Now, unless the upward draught through this large pipe is constant and strong, you will see at once that the air contained in it (which we must treat as though it were always poisonous) would be liable to come up through these branches into the rooms, where they stand with open mouths ready to swallow whatever is poured into them. It is necessary, therefore, to build dams across them that will allow water to go down but prevent air from going up. These dams are called 'traps.' They are intended to catch only hurtful elements that might seek to intrude. It often happens that those who set them get caught, for they are not infallible. Whatever the form or patent assumed by these water-dams, they amount to a bend in the pipe rilled with water. (Fig. 2.) Sometimes a ball or other form of valve is used, but the water is the mainstay. [Illustration: Fig. 1.] [Illustration: Fig. 2.] "Theoretically, this is the whole machinery of safe, 'sanitary' plumbing: A large open pipe kept as clean and free as possible, into which the smaller drains empty, these smaller drains or waste-pipes having their mouths always full, and being able, so to speak, to swallow in but one direction. Everything can go down; nothing can come up. That all these pipes shall be of sound material, not liable to corrosion; that the different pieces of which they are composed shall be tightly joined; that they shall be so firmly supported that they will not bend or break by their own weight, or through the changes of temperature to which they are subject, and that they shall be, if not always in plain sight, at most only hidden by some covering easily removed, are points which the commonest kind of common sense would not fail to observe. "Practically, there are weak spots in the system, even if plumbers were always as honest as George Washington---before he became a man, and as wise as Solomon--before he became discouraged. A water barricade, unless it is as wide as the English Channel, is not a safeguard against dangerous invasion. A slight pressure of air, as every boy blowing soap bubbles can show you, will force a way through a basin full, and the same thing would happen if there should chance to be a backward current of air through these pipes, with this difference, that while the soap bubbles are harmless beauties, these may be filled with the germs of direful diseases. Still another danger to which this light water-seal is exposed is that a downward rush of water may cause a vacuum in the small pipes, somewhat as the exhaust steam operates the air-brakes, and empty the trap, leaving merely an open crooked pipe. Both these weak points may be strengthened by a breathing hole in the highest part of the small pipe below the trap. This must, of course, have a ventilating pipe of its own, which, to be always effectual, should be as large as the waste-pipe itself. (Fig. 3.) [Illustration: Fig 3.] [Illustration: Fig 4] "Now, if the water that fills these traps and stops the open mouths of the drains were always clean, there would be no further trouble from this source. Unfortunately it is not; and although constant watchfulness might keep it so, the safety that only comes from eternal vigilance is an uncomfortable sort of safety--if we have too much of it life becomes a burden. This particular ill might be remedied by some contrivance whereby the upper ends of the waste-pipes should be effectually corked--not simply covered, but _corked_ as tightly as a bottle of beer--at all times except when in actual use. This would doubtless be more troublesome, but indolence is at the bottom of most of our woes: our labor-saving contrivances bring upon us our worst calamities. Even this thorough closing of the outlet of washbasins and bath-tubs, as they are usually made, would be of little avail, for they are furnished with an 'overflow' (Fig. 4), through which exhalations from the trap would rise, however tightly the outlet might be sealed. It is also customary and doubtless wise, considering our habit of doing things so imperfectly the first time that we have no confidence in their stability, to place large basins of sheet-lead under all plumbing articles, lest from some cause they should 'spring a leak' and damage the floors or ceilings below them. One strong safeguard being better than two weak ones, I would dispense with the 'overflow' and arrange so that when anything ran over accidentally the lead basin or 'safe' should catch the water and carry it through an ample waste-pipe of its own to some inoffensive outlet. This would perhaps involve setting the plumbing articles in the most simple and open fashion--which ought always to be done. 'Cabinets,' cupboards, casings and wood finish, no matter how full of conveniences, or how elegantly made, are worse than useless in connection with plumbing fixtures, which, for all reasons, should stand forth in absolute nakedness. They must be so strongly and simply made that no concealment will be necessary. "One more danger closes the list, so far as the system is concerned. Even if the water in the traps is clean and inoffensive it will evaporate quickly in warm weather, and then the prison door is open again. This adds another vigil which we can never lay aside if we must have plumbing and water traps. The burden may be somewhat lightened--since we are prone to forgetfulness as stones to fall downward--by using traps made of glass and leaving them in plain sight. [Illustration: Fig. 5.] "I conclusion, I wish to remind you that the lower end of the main drain must be protected from the iniquity of the sewer or cesspool to which it runs by another trap, or dam, just below the open pipe that admits fresh air from outside the house (Fig. 5), and also, as I have before remarked, that the system is wrong. The rising tide of civilization will some time wash it all away." "Uncle Harry's notion of reform," said Jack, after the long letter had been read, "seems to be to blow the universe to pieces and then put it together again on a new and improved plan. It strikes me we had better fight it out on this line and try to straighten the evils we know something about rather than invent new ones. If we had begun on that track and tried to utilize the waste materials on strictly economical principles, perhaps by this time our methods and machinery would have been so far perfected that the real or imaginary evils of modern plumbing would not have existed. It seems a pity to throw away all we have accomplished and begin again." "That is a part of the price paid for progress," said Jill. "Stage coaches are useless when steam appears, and locomotives must go to the junk shop when electricity is ready to be harnessed. But I'm afraid we cannot afford to be pioneers, and I'm sure the neighbors are not ready to co-operate. We must still 'go by water,' and the important question is where to send the lower end of the main drain. There is no sewer in the street, and a cesspool is an atrocity worthy of the darkest ages. The only safe thing appears to be the sub-surface irrigation plan, for which, fortunately, there is plenty of room on our lot. This comes very near to Uncle Harry's notion of 'earth to earth' in the quickest time possible. If we do it and accept the architect's suggestion in the plan of the house we shall be reasonably safe from that most mysterious of all modern foes--sewer-gas." "I've forgotten the architect's suggestions; in fact, I don't believe my head is quite equal to housebuilding with all the latest notions. When _my_ house was built I just told the carpenter to get up something stylish and good, about like Judge Gainsboro's. He showed me the plans, I signed the contract, and that was the whole of it. I supposed a house was a house. Now, before the new house is begun, I'm like Dick Whittington in the days of his poverty--I've no peace by day or night." "Poor fellow!" "I shudder to think what it will he when the house is fairly under way. I can see five hundred different things at once, but when each one has five hundred sides and we get up into the hundred thousands, I begin to feel dizzy. Uncle Harry has settled the plumbing question to his own satisfaction, so far as first principles are concerned; but who will tell us what kind of pipes and trimmings and bowls and basins and traps and plugs and stops and pedals and pulls and cranks and pistons and plungers and hooks and staples and couplings and brakes and chains and pans and basins and tanks and floats and buoys and strainers and safes and bibbs and tuckers we are to adopt? If I should consume midnight oil during a full four years' course at a college for plumbers I should still find myself just upon the threshold of the temple of knowledge." CHAPTER XIV. SAFE FLUES AND MORE LIGHT. By a tender but vigorous application of the remedies usual in such cases, Jack was speedily restored to his wonted equanimity, and Jill, laying Uncle Harry aside, took up the architect's suggestions concerning the plumbing, which referred rather to its relations to the plan of the house than to the details of the work itself. "A bath-room, with all the plumbing articles it usually contains, must possess at least three special characteristics. It must be easily warmed in cold weather, otherwise the annual bill for repairs will be greater than the cost of coal for the whole house; its walls, floors and ceilings must be impervious to sound. The music of murmuring brooks is delightful to our ears, so is the patter of the soft rain on the roof; but the splashing of water in a, bath-tub and the gurgling of unseen water-pipes are not pleasant accompaniments to a dinner-table conversation. Thirdly, it must be perfectly ventilated--not the drainpipes merely,--but the room itself in summer and in winter. Two of the above conditions can best be secured by arranging to have this important room placed in a detached or semi-detached wing; and here begin the compromises between convenience, cost and safety. It is convenient to have a bath-room attached to every chamber, and there is no doubt that this may be done with entire safety, provided you do not regard the cost. In your plan I have adopted the middle course. There is one bath-room for all the chambers of the second floor, not too remote but somewhat retired, and having no communication with any other room. It is ventilated by a large open flue carried up directly through the roof; it has also an outside window and inlets for fresh air near the floor. All the walls and partitions around it will be double and filled with mineral wool, and the floors will be deafened. The 'house side' of the water-closet traps will have three-inch iron pipes running to the ventilating flue beside the kitchen-chimney, a flue that will always be warm, and therefore certain to give a strong upward draught at all times, which cannot be said of any other flue in the house, not even of the main drain, or soil-pipe, which passes up through the roof. It would be easy to keep other flues warmed in cold weather by steam-pipes, but in summer you will have no steam for heating purposes. A 'circulation-pipe' might be attached to a boiler on the kitchen range for this purpose, but in the present case such a contrivance would cost more than the iron pipe carried from the bath-room to the flue that is warmed by the kitchen fire. A good way to build this ventilating flue is to inclose the smoke-pipe from the range, which may be of iron or glazed earthen pipe, in a larger brick flue or chamber (Fig. 1), keeping it in place by bars of iron laid into the masonry. The rising current of warm air around the heated smoke-pipe will be as constant and reliable as the trade winds. It will be well, indeed, if all your chimneys are made in a similar manner; that is, by enclosing hard-burned glazed pipe in a thin wall of bricks. Such chimneys will not only draw better than those made in the usual way, but there will be less danger from 'defective flues.' A four-inch wall of bricks between us and destruction by fire is a frail barrier, especially if the work is carelessly done or the mortar has crumbled from the joints. To build the chimneys with double or eight-inch walls makes them very large, more expensive, and still not as good as when they contain the smooth round flues. To leave an air-chamber beside or between them for ventilating (Fig. 2), is better than to open directly into the smoke-flue, because it will not impair the draught for the fire, and there will be no danger of a sooty odor in the room when the circulation happens to be downward, as it will be occasionally. The outside chimney, if there is one, should have an extra air-chamber between the very outer wall and the back of the fireplace to save heat (Fig. 3), a precaution that removes to a great extent the common objection to such chimneys. Whatever else you do, let these 'windpipes of good hospitalitie' have all the room they need. I shall not willingly carry them off by any devious way to be hidden in an obscure corner or dark closet, nor yet to give them a more respectable and well-balanced position on the roof. Like the wild forest trees they shall grow straight up toward heaven from the spot where they are first planted. If we happen to want a window where the chimney stands in an outer wall we will make one between the flues, as one might build a hut in the huge branches of a mighty oak. It isn't the best place for the window or the hut, but circumstances may justify it; as, for instance, when we must have the outlook in a certain direction, but cannot spare the wall-space for a window beside the chimney. The jambs beside a window so situated will be very wide, and you may, if you please, extend the view of the landscape indefinitely by setting two mirrors _vis-à-vis_ in the opening at either side. This will also send the sunshine into the room after the sun has passed by the other windows on the same side of the house. It is rather a pretty fancy, too, when the outside view does not require a clear window, to set a picture in colored glass above the mantel, and the same thins: may be arranged in the sideboard, if it happens to stand against the outer wall. These are _fancies_, however, which lose their beauty and fitness unless they seem to have been spontaneously produced. There should be no apparent striving for effect." [Illustration: SAFE AND SAVING FLUES.] [Illustration: SAFE AND SAVING FLUES.] [Illustration: A PICTURE IN GLASS OVER THE FIREPLACE.] "I like the idea of setting mirrors in the deep window-jambs, whether they are in the chimney or out of it," said Jill. "If I was obliged to live in a room where the sun never shone of its own accord, I would set a trap for it baited with large mirrors fixed on some sort of a windlass in a way to send the sunshine straight into my windows." "Capital! You could do that easily, and if you wanted a green-house on the north side it would only be necessary to set up a few looking-glasses to pour a blazing sun upon it all day long. You might need a little clockwork to keep them adjusted at the right angles, but Yankee invention ought to be equal to that. I have no doubt we shall see patent sunshine-distributors in the market very shortly if your idea gets abroad; in fact, I shouldn't be surprised to hear that a company proposed to set up mammoth reflectors to keep the sun from setting at all until he drops into the Pacific Ocean." [Illustration: GLASS OF MANY COLORS, SHAPES AND SIZES.] "Well, you may laugh at my invention; I shall surely try it when I am obliged to live in a house that does not get sunlight in the regular way. As for the stained glass picture over the chimney-piece, I should like it for the bright color and because the lamps would make it so charming from the street outside. I shall also want colored glass in the upper part of the bay windows. The architect says we can have it and still keep the lower panes clear and large. He sends some sketches by way of suggestion, and thinks we may use it in the lower part of some of the windows to conceal a window-seat or other furniture. I should prefer screens of some other kind in such places, keeping the stained glass up where it would show against the sky. He says this colored glass is not necessarily expensive; that it may be set in common wood-sash or in lead-sash, as we please, and that it will not affect the usual opening and closing of the windows. He advises plate-glass for the larger lights, if we can afford it, not because it gives the house a more elegant appearance, though that is not a wholly unworthy motive, but because a beautiful landscape is so much more beautiful when it can be plainly seen. The instinct that prompts us to throw the window wide open in order to get a more satisfactory view is an unanswerable argument in favor of large, clear lights of glass for windows intended for outlooks." "And here is an illustration right before us," said Jack. "I am impelled by a powerful impulse to open the window and see if I can recognize the lady driving up the street. It wouldn't be good manners, but I wish the window was plate-glass." To Jack's astonishment, however, Jill threw open the window and waved her handkerchief in cordial salutation as Aunt Jerusha drove slowly up to the house. "Doing her own work" for half a century had not rendered her incapable of taking and enjoying a carriage ride of fifteen miles alone to visit her niece. Like all wise people who are able to give advice, Aunt Jerusha offered none until it was asked, and then gave only in small doses. She had never seen the house that Jack built, but had heard much of it from the friends and relatives who had never underrated Jill's obstinacy in refusing to accept it as a permanent home. "I almost wonder at you, Jill, for being so set against it. I'm sure it's a fine house and cost a good deal of money. There must be some drawback that doesn't show. I hope It isn't haunted." "That's it, Aunt Jerusha; it's haunted. Several uncomfortable demons have taken possession of it and Jill isn't able to exorcise them. It was a great grief to me at first, and I made a bargain with Jill to keep still about them, but it is an open secret now and she may tell you everything." [Illustration: SHELVES IN THE MIDDLE, CUPBOARDS ABOVE AND BELOW.] "Very well. I can easily explain the mystery. The mischief began with the evil spirits of Ignorance and Incompetence. The carpenter who planned the house knew nothing about our tastes or needs, and the builder was unable to make a comfortable flight of stairs, safe chimneys, smooth floors or tight windows. After these two came another pair, worse than the first--Ostentation and Avarice. They tried to make a grand display and at the same time a large profit on the job. How can I exorcise such demons as these except by tearing down the house?" "Couldn't you sell it, dear? What seem demons to you might appear like angels of light to some one else," said Aunt Jerusha. "You are an angel of light to me, Aunt Jerusha," said Jack. "But I might have known you would stand up for my house." "Aunt Jerusha, there isn't a closet in the whole establishment," said Jill, solemnly, knowing that defect to be an architectural sin which even her aunt's broad charity would fail to cover. "Oh, Jill! where have you laid your conscience? I can't stay to hear my house abused. Please show Aunt Jerusha the pantry and the china-closet and I will flee to the office." "Why, yes, to be sure you have a very nice buttery and china-cupboard." "I meant good, generous closets for the chambers. Of course there's a pantry, but I don't think the arrangement of shelves, drawers and cupboards is very convenient." "It seems very liberal." "Yes, but would you advise me to have the pantry in the new house like it?" "Well, no, dear; since you asked me, I wouldn't. It is possible to have too many conveniences even in a pantry. It is a good plan to have a few cupboards to keep some things from the dust and others from the light, but most of our raw materials now-a-days come in tight boxes or cans, and I find them more handy standing on the shelves than shut up in drawers. I don't suppose it would be so in your case, dear, but a drawer sometimes hides very slovenly habits. It is so easy to drop an untidy thing into a drawer and shove it out of sight. These large wooden boxes, all built in with their covers and handles, look nice and handy, but it's hard to clean them out. I would rather have good wide shelves and light movable tin boxes like those used in the groceries. You could buy them, I suppose, but I had mine made at the tin-shop to fit the shelves. I can take them out and wash them any time, and they never get musty, as wooden boxes will, even with the best of care. But you mustn't be biased by my old-fashioned notions." "I think they are very good notions if they are old-fashioned. If we have cupboards inside the pantry, drawers inside the cupboards, and boxes and cases inside the drawers, finding the spices is like opening a nest of. Chinese puzzles. A mechanic would never hide the tools in his workshop in that way." "How do you reach the upper shelves?" "I never reach them, and all that room is wasted. It is worse than wasted. It is a reservoir for dust and cobwebs." "Wouldn't it be well, dear, if all the upper part was made into cupboards for things seldom used?" "Indeed it would. I think I will have the new pantry made something like this: low cupboards next to the floor, for things that; need to be shut up and yet must be handy; on the top of these, which will be not quite three feet high, a very wide shelf; over this several open shelves, as high as I can easily reach; and above the shelves, filling the space to the ceiling, short cupboards entirely around the room for cracked dishes that are too good to throw away, but are never used: for ice-cream freezers in the winter, and a great many more things that belong to the same category--a sort of hospital for disabled or retired culinary utensils. Now we will look at the china closet, but we shall need the gas in order to see it in all its glory, and you can tell Jack it is lovely with a clear conscience." "I never speak without a clear conscience," said Aunt Jerusha mildly. CHAPTER XV. A DANGEROUS RIVAL. "Dear me," said Aunt Jerusha, as Jill, after displaying the kitchen pantry, showed her the windowless china closet, elegant with varnished walnut, plate-glass and silver-plated plumbing, "dear me, this is as fine as a parlor. It seems a real pity to keep it all out of sight." "The pity is that it was made so fine. I should not object to polished walnut in a light room, although cherry, birch or some other fine-grained, hard, light-colored wood is preferable; but all this ornamental work, these mouldings, cornices and carved handles are worse than useless--they are ugly and troublesome. If I can have my own way--I'm glad Jack isn't here to make comments--I shall have every part of the new pantries as plain and smooth as a marble slab, with not a groove or a moulding to hold dust, and never a crack nor a crevice in which the tiniest spider can hide. The shelves will be thin, light and strong; some wide and some narrow; a wineglass doesn't need as much room as a soup tureen; the cupboard doors shall be as plain as doors can be made, and shall _not_ be hung like these, to swing out against each other at the constant risk of breaking the glass and of pushing something from the narrow shelf in front of them. They ought to slide, one before another, and the front shelf should be wide enough to hold _lots_ of things when they are handed down from the upper part of the cupboards." "I'm sure the little sink must be handy," said Aunt Jerusha, amiably looking for merits where Jill saw only defects. "It might be if there was room enough at each side for drainers and for dishes to stand before and after washing. I don't wonder that Jack's china is 'nicked' till the edges look like saw teeth; glass and fine crockery can't be piled up into pyramids even by the most experienced builders without serious damage to the edges. There ought to be four times as much space at each side." "I suppose there wasn't quite room enough." "There was _always_ room enough. There's enough now outside, and would have been inside, if the house had been well planned," said Jill rather sharply. "These are proper, nice, large drawers." "They are too nice and too large. Even when they are but half full I have to tumble their contents all over to find any particular thing, unless it lies on top. Some drawers ought to be large and some small, but I don't believe there ever was a man," said Jill vehemently, "who knew enough to arrange the small comforts and conveniences for housekeeping. Every day I am exasperated by something which Jack never so much as noticed. When I explain it he laughs and says it is fortunate we have so good an opportunity for learning what to avoid, and all the time I am certain he thinks there will be a great many more faults in the new house. If there are I shall be sorry it is fire-proof." [Illustration: "THE OAKS."] "Why, Jill, my dear, don't be rash! That doesn't sound like you. You mustn't set your heart on having things exactly to suit you in this world. I've lived a great many years, and a good many times I find it easier to bring my mind to things as they are than it is to make everything come just to my mind. I've seen plenty of women wear themselves out for want of things to do with, and I've seen other women break down from having too many; trying to keep up with all the modern fashions and conveniences, and to manage their houses with the same kind of regularity--'system' they call it--that men use in carrying on a manufacturing business." "Well, why shouldn't they, Aunt 'Rusha?" "I'll tell you why, my dear. A business man has a certain, single, definite thing to do or to make. Every day's work is very much like that of the day before. He may try to improve gradually, but, in the main, it is the same thing over and over again. Our home life ought not to be like that. A man ought not to be merely an engine or a cash-book; a woman ought to be something more than a dummy or a fashion-plate; our children should not be like so many spools of thread or suits of clothes, turned in the same lathe, spun to the same yarn, and cut according to the same pattern and rule. I'm sure I could never have done my work and brought up six children without some sort of a system, or if your uncle had been a bad provider. But I never could have got on as well as I have if I had given all my mind to keeping things in order and learning how to use new-fashioned labor-saving contrivances. There's nothing more honorable for womankind," said Aunt Jerusha, as she rolled up her knitting and prepared to set out on her homeward ride, "than housework, but it ain't the chief end of woman, and unless your house is something more than a workshop or a showcase, it will always be a good deal less than a home." Jill hardly needed this parting admonition, but listened to it and to much more good advice with the respect due to one who, for nearly half a century, had looked well to the ways of her household, whose helping hands were always outstretched to the poor and needy, whose children rose up and called her blessed, and whose husband had never ceased to praise her. After her departure her niece indulged in a short season of solemn reflection, striving faithfully to attain to that wisdom which always knows when to protest against existing circumstances and when to accept them with equanimity. Ultimately she reached the conclusion that, while the house that Jack built might indeed be a thoroughly comfortable home to one who had a contented mind, it was really her duty in her probationary housekeeping to be as critical as possible. Among other things the doors came in for a share of her usually amiable denunciation. She declared they were huge and heavy enough in appearance for prison cells, yet so loosely put together that their prolonged existence seemed to be a question of glue. They were swollen in the damp, warm weather till they refused to _be_ shut, and would doubtless shrink so much under the influence of furnace heat in the winter that they would refuse to _stay_ shut. The closet doors swung against the windows, excluding instead of admitting the light. The doors of the chambers opened squarely upon the beds, and there seemed to have been no thought of convenient wall spaces for pictures and furniture. [Illustration: OUTSIDE BARRIERS.] The architect's theory of doors, as expounded in one of his letters, was simple enough: "Outside doors are barricades; they should be solid and strong in fact and in appearance. Inner doors, from room to room, require no special strength; they should turn whichever way gives the freest passage and throws them most out of the way when they are open. Seclusion for the inmates is the chief service of chamber doors, and they should be placed and hung so as _not_ to give a direct glimpse across the bed or into the room the moment they are set even slightly ajar. Closet doors are screens simply, and ought to hide the interior of the closet when they are partially open, as well as when they are closed. They may be as light as it is possible to make them. In many houses one-half the doors might wisely be sent to the auction-room and the proceeds invested in portières, which are often far more suitable and convenient than solid doors, especially for chamber closets, for dressing-rooms, or other apartments communicating in suites, and not infrequently a heavy curtain is an ample barrier between the principal rooms. It may be well to supplement them, with light sliding doors, to be used in an emergency, but which being rarely seen, may be exceedingly simple and inexpensive, having no resemblance to the rest of the finish in the room. For that matter such conformity is not required of any of the doors, though it is reckoned by builders as one of the cardinal points in hard-wood finish that veneered doors must 'match' the finish of the rooms in which they show. This is absurd. Doors are under no such obligations. They may be of any sort of wood, metal or fabric. They may be veneered, carved, gilded, ebonized, painted, stained or 'decorated.' To finish and furnish a room entirely with one kind of wood, making the wainscot, architraves, cornices, doors and mantels, the chairs, tables, piano, bookcase, or sideboard, all of mahogany, oak, or whatever may be chosen--the floors, too, perhaps, and the picture frames--is strictly orthodox and eminently respectable; but like the invariable use of 'low tones' in decorating walls and ceilings, it betrays a sort of helplessness and lack of courage. Discords in sound, color and form are, indeed, always hateful, and they are sure to be produced when ignorance or accident strikes the keys. Yet, on the other hand, neutrality and monotone are desperately tedious, and it is better to strive and fail than to be hopelessly commonplace." [Illustration: INSIDE BARRIERS.] [Illustration: COMMON UGLINESS.] [Illustration: SIMPLE GRACE.] This advice concerned not the doors alone, but referred to other queries that had been raised as to the interior finish generally. One evening Jack came home and found Jill "in the dumps," or as near as she ever came to that unhappy state of mind, the consequence, as it appeared, of Aunt Melville's zeal in her behalf. "Why should these plans worry you?" said Jack. "I thought common sense was your armor and decision your shield against Aunt Melville's erratic arrows of advice." "My armor is intact, but, for a moment, I have lowered my shield and it has cost me an effort to raise it again, I supposed my mind was fixed beyond the possibility of change, but this is a wonderfully taking plan. At first I felt that if our lot had not been bought and the foundation actually begun we would certainly begin anew and have a house something like these plans. Then it occurred to me that in building a house that is to be our home as long as we live, perhaps, it would be the height of absurdity to tie ourselves down to one little spot on the broad face of this great, beautiful world and live in a house that will never be satisfactory, just because we happen to have this bit of land in our possession and have spent upon it a few hundred dollars." "Sensible, as usual. What next?" "Well, this last and best discovery of Aunt Melville's was undoubtedly made like our own plan to fit a particular site, and it seems beginning at the wrong end to arrange the house first and then try to find a lot to suit it." "I don't see it in that light," said Jack. "I know the architect has been preaching the importance of adapting the plan to the lot, but if two thousand dollars are going into the land and eight thousand into the house, I should say the house is entitled to the first choice." "Certainly, if it was a city lot, with no character of its own, a mere rectangular piece of land shut in upon three sides and open at one. But ours has certain strong points not to be found in any other unoccupied lot in town. Besides, there are other reasons why it would not answer for us; but _if_ our lot was right for it, and _if_ we wanted so large a house, _how_ I should enjoy building it!" "I don't see anything so very remarkable about the plan," said Jack, taking up the drawings. "My dear, short-sighted husband," said Jill with the utmost impressiveness of tone and manner, "it is a _one-story house_. 'There shall be no more stairs' sounds almost as delightful as the scriptural promise of no more sea. And look at the plan itself: The great square vestibule, or reception-room, with the office at one side--wouldn't you enjoy that, Jack?--then a few steps higher the big keeping-room, with a huge fireplace confronting you, and room enough for--anything. For games, for dancing, for a billiard table, for a grand piano, for a hammock--or--" "Say a sewing machine, a spinning-wheel or something useful." "Anything you like, a studio or a picture gallery, for it is twice as high as the other rooms, and lighted from the roof. At the right of this, and with such a great wide door between them that they seem like two parts of the same room, is the sitting-room, with another great fireplace in the corner, bay window and a conservatory fronting the wide entrance to the dining-room, at the farther end of which there is still another grand fireplace, with a stained-glass window above it. These three rooms--four, if we count the conservatory--are just as near perfection as possible. Then see the long line of chambers, closets and dressing-rooms running around the south and east sides, every one with a southern window, and all communicating with the corridor that leads from the keeping-room, yet sufficiently united to form a complete family suite. The first floor--I mean the _one_ floor--is five or six feet from the ground, so there can be no dampness in the rooms--and just think what a cellar! Altogether too much for us." "Indeed, there isn't. I'd have a bowling alley, a skating rink, a machine shop, a tennis court, and--a rifle range. Yes, it _is_ a taking plan, but there are two things that I don't understand. How can you cover such a big box, and where is the cooking to be done?" [Illustration: FIRST FLOOR PLAN OF "THE OAKS."] "The old rule of two negatives applies. Even a one-story house must have a roof, and the breadth of this makes a roof large enough to hold not only the kitchen but the servants' room on the same upper level." "A kitchen up stairs!" exclaimed Jack, for once startled into solemnity. "Aunt Melville considers this the crowning glory of the plan. Owing to this elevation of the cooking range there is no back door, no back yard, no chance for an uncouth or an unsightly precinct at either side of the house." "That would be something worth living for. I think, Jill, we had better examine these plans a little farther." [Illustration] CHAPTER XVI. A NEW WAY OF GETTING UP STAIRS AND A NEW MISSIONARY FIELD. "The question of getting up stairs," said Jack, as they continued the study of the one-story plan, "is at least an interesting one. It seems to be accepted as a foregone conclusion that modern dwelling houses, even in the country, where the cost of the land actually covered by the house is of no consequence, must be two stories at least above the basement; but I doubt whether this principle in the evolution of domestic habitations is well established. Between the aboriginal wigwam, whose first and only floor is the bare earth itself, and the 'high-basement-four-story-and-French-roof' style, there is somewhere the happy medium which our blessed posterity--blessed in having had such wise ancestors--will universally adopt as the fittest survivor of our uncounted fashions. I fancy it will be much nearer to this one-story house, with the high basement and big attic, than to the seven-story mansard with sub-cellar for fuel and furnace. Still the tendency during the last fifty years has been upward. Our grandfathers preferred to sleep on the ground floor; _we_ should expect to be carried off by burglars or malaria if we ventured to close our eyes within ten feet of the ground. Our city cousins like to be two or three times as high. Under these circumstances building a one-story house would be likely to prove a flying-not in the face of Providence, but, what is reckoned more dangerous and discreditable--flying in the face of custom. Humility isn't popular in the matter of house-building." "I am not afraid of custom, and have no objection to a reasonable humility," said Jill, "but I never once thought of burglars. If a house has but one floor I think it should be so for from the ground as to be practically a 'second' floor. The main point is to have all the family rooms on one level." "That is, a 'flat.'" "Yes, one flat; not a pile of flats one above another, as they are built in cities, but one large flat raised high enough to be entirely removed from the moisture of the ground, to give a pleasant sense of security from outside intrusion and to afford convenient outlooks from the windows. One or two guest rooms, that are not often used, might be on a second floor, under the roof, if there was space enough." "But this plan has the servants' chambers, the kitchen and the store closets all in the roof. Isn't that rather overdoing the matter?" "Better in the attic than in the basement. It is light, dry and 'airy.' There is no danger that the odors of cooking will come down, and as for the extra trouble, a well-arranged elevator will take supplies from the basement up twenty feet to the level of the kitchen, store-rooms and pantries as easily as they could be taken the usual distances horizontally. In brief, a kitchen above the dining-room is at worst no more 'inconvenient' than below it. Of course, there must be stairs even in a one-story house, but they would not be in constant use. Instead of living edgewise, so to speak, we should be spread out flatwise. We could climb when we chose, but should not of necessity be forever climbing. Yes, I like this plan exceedingly, not alone for its one principal floor, but I have always had a fancy for the 'rotunda' arrangement--one large central apartment for any and all purposes, out of which the rooms for more special and private uses should open. Indeed, I don't see how a very large house can be built in any other way without leaving a considerable part of the interior as useless for domestic as Central Africa is for political purposes. With _this_ arrangement the central keeping-room, lighted from above, may be as large as a circus tent, and all the surrounding cells will be amply supplied with light and air from the outside walls. [Illustration: LOOKING TOWARD SUNSET.] [Illustration: NEAR THE TURNING-POINT.] "According to Aunt Melville's enthusiastic account, the construction of the house is but little less than marvelous. 'The high walls of the basement are built of those native, weather-stained and lichen-covered boulders, the walls above being of a material hitherto unknown to builders. You will scarcely believe it when I tell you they are nothing else than the waste rubbish from brickyards, the rejected accumulations of years--not by any means the unburned, but the overburned, the hard, flinty, molten, misshapen and highly-colored masses of burned clay which indeed refused to be consumed, but have been twisted into shapeless blocks by the fervent heat. Of course, with such unconventional materials for the main walls it would be a silly affectation to embellish the exterior of the house with elaborate mouldings or ornamental wood-work, and the visible details are therefore plain to the verge of poverty. But as men of great genius can disregard the trifling formalities of society, so there are no architectural rules which this house is obliged to respect.'" [Illustration: A CHOICE OF BALUSTERS.] "That suits me perfectly," said Jack; "but I am amazed at Aunt Melville. Never before did she make such a concession even to great genius. Never before have I felt inclined to agree with her; but the conviction has grown upon me of late that the new house is in danger of being too much like other houses. If a fellow is really going in for reform, I like to have him go the whole figure. What do you say to beginning anew and building such a house as no mortal ever built before--something to make everybody wonder what manner of people they are who live in such a habitation--something to convince our neighbors that we are no weak-minded time-servers, but are able to be an architectural as well as domestic law unto ourselves--something to make them stop and stare--a sort of local Greenwich from which the community will reckon their longitude--'so many miles from the house that Jill built'?" "My dear, did it ever occur to you that you cannot be too thankful for a wife who is not blown about by every wind of new doctrine? I _do_ like the plan of 'The Oaks' exceedingly, not only for itself, but for the spirit of it, for its breadth and freedom. It seems to me a charming illustration of the true gospel of home architecture. There is no thoughtless imitation of something else that suits another place and another family. Neither does it appear that the owner tried to make a vain display for the sake of 'astonishing the natives.' He knew what he wanted, and built the house to suit his wants, using the simplest, the cheapest and the most durable materials at hand in the most direct and unaffected manner. Did you notice in the sketch of the keeping-room fireplace the little gallery passing across the end of the room above the entrance to the sitting-room? Probably you thought that was built for purely ornamental purposes, but it isn't. It is simply the walk from the kitchen to another part of the attic, which can be most conveniently reached by this interior bridge. Of course it adds to the interest and beauty of the room, but it was not made for that purpose, and, as I understand the matter, it is all the more beautiful because it was first made to be useful. There is another thing in this house--the elevator--which, queerly enough, we do not often find in houses of more aspiring habit, where it would he of even greater value. It is amazing to me that housekeepers will go on tugging trunks, coal-hods and heavy merchandise of all kinds up stairways, day after day and year after year, when a simple mechanical contrivance, moved by water, or weights and pulleys, would save us from all these heavy burdens. Think of the bruised knuckles, the trembling limbs that stagger along with the upper end of a Saratoga 'cottage,' the broken plastering at the sides, the paper patched with bright new pieces that look 'almost worse' than the uncovered rents, and the ugly marks of perspiring fingers." [Illustration: THE BIG FIREPLACE IN THE KEEPING ROOM.] [Illustration: ONE WAY TO BEGIN.] "All of which I have seen and a part of which I have been," said Jack. "I intended to have a lift in this house, but somehow it was left out." "Our architect." Jill continued, "must be instructed to arrange not only an easy staircase, but there must be a paneled wainscot at the side. We will dispense with elegance in any other quarter, if need be, in order to have the stairs ample, strong and well protected. I am not over-anxious to have them ornate, although handsome stairs are very charming if well placed; like many other beautiful things, they become incurably ugly when too obtrusive. The architect has sent several designs of balustrades from which we are to choose, and gives this advice about the dimensions: 'As you have plenty of room, the staircase should be four or four and a-half feet wide, so that two people can easily walk over it abreast, I have arranged to make the steps twelve inches wide, besides the projection that forms the finish--the "nosing"--and six inches high; that is, six inches "rise" and twelve inches "run." Some climbers think this too flat, and perhaps it is in certain situations; but for homes, for easy, leisurely ascent by children and old folks. I think it better than a steeper pitch. All large dwelling-houses, and some small ones, ought to be supplied with "passenger elevators," at least from the first to the second story. Those who take the rooms still higher are usually able to make the ascent in the common way. Such an elevator can undoubtedly be made that will be safe and economical, especially where there is an ample water supply.'" [Illustration: A BROADSIDE OF AN EASY ASCENT.] "The safety is the most troublesome part of the problem," said Jack; "and I can think of no way to overcome the danger of walking off the precipice, when the platform happens to be at the bottom, but by having the car run up an inclined plane. There would be no more danger of falling down this than down a common stairway, and the car might be fixed so it couldn't move up or down faster than a walk or a slow trot." "Would you like to experiment in the new house? You may do so--at your own expense--if you will promise not to spoil the plan. Among the designs for the stairs there is one that will be of no service to us--the screen at the foot of the stairs; our 'reception' hall will be separated from the staircase hall by the chimney and the curtains at the sides." "I have an idea," exclaimed Jack, "a truly philanthropic one. You know we are accumulating a large stock of plans, to say nothing of general information on architectural subjects, which we cannot possibly use ourselves, but which ought not to be wasted. Now you know Bessie is pining for a mission.". "Bessie has gone home." "I know, but she will come back if we send for her and tell her that she and Jim are to be sent out in the express wagon on a benevolent expedition to the heathens--the uncultured domestic heathens. We can have some of the architect's letters printed in tract form for them to distribute, and they can take along these superfluous plans to be applied where they will be most effective. Take, for instance, this hall screen, or whatever it may be, with the square staircase behind it. This would be just the thing for one of those old-fashioned square houses with the hall running through the middle and the long staircase splitting the hall in two lengthwise. If Bessie could persuade the owner of a single one of these old houses to take out the straight and narrow stairs, move them back, and, by introducing this semblance of a separation, make a reception hall of the front part, she would feel that she had not lived in vain. If she could at the same time cause cashmere shawls and rag carpets to be hung as portières in place of doors to the front rooms she would be ready for translation." Jill laughed. "I'm not sure," said she, "but this is a good field for people of missionary proclivities. Some of these old-fashioned houses have far more real, artistic excellence than those of the later, transition periods, and need but slight alterations to be most satisfactory types of architectural beauty as well as models of comfort and convenience. Broad, easy stairs, wide doorways and generous windows, with ample porches and piazzas outside, would transform them and make them not merely as good as new, but vastly better. Reopening fireplaces that have been ignominiously bricked up would be another promising field." "Oh! I tell you my idea is a capital one. I'll send for Bess this very day. They shall have Bob and the express wagon a week if they want it. They shall dispense an esthetic gospel and accumulate ancient bric-a-brac to their hearts' content. Bessie will be in ecstacies, and Jim will be in a helpless state of amazement and admiration." [Illustration: A DIVIDING SCREEN AT THE FOOT OF THE STAIRS.] "How perfectly absurd, Jack! I wouldn't allow those children to go off on such an excursion for all the old houses in America. One would think you were determined to have an esthetic sister-in-law at all hazards." "Never thought of such a thing! But now that you suggest it--" "I haven't suggested it," said Jill indignantly. "Well, you put it into my head at all events, and really now it wouldn't be such a bad idea. Jim is behind the times, artistically speaking, and needs to be waked up; and as for Bess, she would very soon learn to be careful how she expressed a longing for the unattainable, for Jim is a practical fellow, and whatever she wanted he would go for in a twinkling. Honestly, Jill, it strikes me as a first-class notion, and I'm glad you suggested it." "I _didn't_ suggest it, and I think it would be a _dreadful_ thing--I mean to send them off on another excursion. I am not sure, however, but we might found an A.B.C.A.M. with the materials and implements in our possession." CHAPTER XVII. THE RIGHT SIDE OF PAINT; A PROTEST AND A PROMISE. Jack's benevolent ambition to distribute their superfluous plans among those in need of such aids was strengthened by the receipt of another roll of drawings, showing designs for the interior work, wainscots, cornices, architraves, paneled ceilings and such wood finishings as are commonly found in houses that are built in conventional fashion, with lathed and plastered walls, trimmed at all corners and openings with wood more or less elaborately wrought. Of course, it was a large condescension in the architect to offer such a variety, and contrary to his avowed determination to decide without appeal all questions of construction and design, but he appreciated his clients and knew when to break his own rules and when to insist upon their observance. If Jill, had required an assortment he would doubtless have suggested that certain "practical" builders could furnish a full line of ready-made "artistic" patterns for little more than the cost of the paper on which they were printed; from these he would have advised her to select her own designs, as she might have chosen from a medicine chest sweet-smelling drops or sugar-coated pills of varying hue and form--the result would doubtless he as satisfactory in one case as in the other. Since she had not demanded it as an inalienable right he gave her an opportunity to criticise and select, which she accepted by no means unwillingly. As a rule, the designs were, in her opinion, too elaborate and obtrusive. There were too many mouldings, there was too much carving, and too evident a purpose to provide a finish that should challenge attention by its extent or elegance. It would require too much labor to keep it in order, and--it would cost too much. If she could not have work that was truly artistic, and therefore enduringly beautiful, whatever changes of fashion might occur, it was her wish to keep all the essential part of the building and finish modestly in the background, not attempting to make it ornamental, but relying upon the furniture for whatever conspicuous ornament or decoration might be desired. Nothing annoyed her more than an elegantly-finished house scantily provided with shabby, incongruous and misapplied furniture. The amiable concession of the architect came near causing a fatal quarrel, as amiable concessions are apt to do, for he found it almost impossible to satisfy Jill's taste in the direction of simplicity; he seemed to feel that he was neglecting his duty if he gave her plain, narrow bands of wood absolutely devoid of all design beyond a designation of their width and thickness. Any carpenter's boy could make such plans. "It would be worse," he wrote, "than prescribing bread pills and 'herb drink' for a sick man." To which Jill replied in substance that the needs of the patient are more important than professional rules. [Illustration: BITS OF CORNICES.] Over the first great question, regarding the visible wood work of the interior, Jack and Jill had held many protracted discussions: should any of it be painted, or should all the wood be left to show its natural graining and color? To the argument that unpainted wood is not only "natural" but strictly genuine and more interesting than paint, Jack replied that "natural" things are not always beautiful; that paint, which makes no pretense of being anything but paint, is as genuine as shellac or varnish, and that if the object is to be interesting, the bark, the knots, the worm-holes, and, if possible, the worms themselves should be displayed. "Besides," said he, "if we decide on hard wood, who shall choose the kinds? There's beech, birch and maple; cherry, whitewood and ebony; ash and brown ash and white ash and black ash; ditto oak, drawn and quartered; there's rosewood, redwood, gopherwood and wormwood; mahogany, laurel, holly and mistletoe; cedar of Lebanon and pine of Georgia, not to mention chestnut, walnut, butternut, cocoanut and peanut, all of which are popular and available woods for finishing modern dwellings. If we choose from this list, which may be indefinitely extended, the few kinds for which we can find room in our house, we shall be tormented with regret as long as we both do live because we didn't choose something else. Now if we paint, behold how simple a thing it is! We buy a lot of white pine boards, put them up where they belong and paint them in whatever unnamable hues the prevailing fashion may chance to dictate. Our boards need not even be of the best quality; an occasional piece of sound sap, a few hard knots, or now and then a 'snoodledog'--as they say in Nantucket--would do no harm. A prudent application of shellac and putty before painting will make everything right. Then if the fashions change, or if we should be refined beyond our present tastes and wish to go up higher, all we should need to lift the house to the same elevated plane is--another coat of paint. On the other hand, if we had a room finished in old English oak, growing blacker and blacker every year; in mahogany or in cheap and mournful black walnut, what could we do if the imperious mistress of the world should decree light colors? With rare, pale, faded tints on the walls our strong, bold, heavy hard-wood finish would be painful in the extreme. We couldn't change the wood and we couldn't change the fashion." "If you were not my own husband, Jack, I should say you were dreadfully obtuse. Concerning _fashions_ in house-building and furnishing I feel very much as Martin Luther felt about certain, formal religious dogmas. If we are asked to respect them as a matter of amiable compliance, if we find them convenient, agreeable and at the same time harmless, then let us quietly accept them; but, if we are commanded to obey them as vital, if they are set before us as solemn obligations to be reverenced as we reverence the everlasting truth, then, for Heaven's sake, let us tear them in pieces and trample them under our feet, lest we lose our power to distinguish the substance from the shadow. The moment any particular style of building, finishing or furnishing becomes a recognized fashion, that moment I feel inclined to turn against it with all my might." "If you were not my own idolized wife, I should say that was 'pure cussedness.'" [Illustration: MOULDINGS FAIR TO SEE, BUT HARD TO KEEP CLEAN.] "On the contrary, it is high moral principle; that is, moral principle applied to art. It is a simple, outright impossibility for human beings to have any true perception of art while a shadow of a thought of fashion remains. It is, indeed, possible that fashion may, for a moment, follow the straight and narrow road that leads to artistic excellence, as the fitful breath of a cyclone may, at a certain point in its giddy whirl, run parallel with the ceaseless sweep of the mighty trade-winds, but whoever tries to keep constantly in its track is sure to be hopelessly astray." "My dear, indignant, despiser of fashion, you know you wouldn't wear a two-year-old bonnet to church, on a pleasant Sunday morning, for the price of a pew in the broad aisle." "Certainly not; that would be both mercenary and irreverent; moreover, my bonnet has nothing to do with artistic rules. It is not a work of art or of science, of nature or of grace. It is a conventional signal by which I announce a friendly disposition toward the follies of my fellow-creatures--a sort of flag of truce, a badge of my conformity in little things. I wear it voluntarily and could lay it aside if I chose." "Undoubtedly, _if_ you chose. Now, let us resume the original discussion. I had given one powerful argument in favor of paint when I was rashly interrupted: here is another--it is much cheaper." "That would depend," said Jill. "Ash, butternut, cherry and various other woods cost little, if any more, than the best pine, and the pine itself is very pretty for chambers." "Ah, but you forget the labor question. It is one thing to join two pieces of wood so closely as to leave no visible crack between them, and quite another to bring them into the same neighborhood, fill the chasm with putty and hide the whole under a coat of paint. The difference between these two kinds of joints is the difference between one stroke and two, between one day's work and five days, between one thousand dollars and five thousand. My third argument you will surely appreciate. Paint is more artistic." Here Jack paused to give his words effect; then proceeded like one walking on stilts. "Pure tones symphoniously gradated from contralto shadows to the tender brightness of the upper registers and harmoniously blended with the prevailing quality--" [Illustration: FRAGMENTS OF ARCHITRAVES.] "Oh, Jack! _Don't_ go any farther, you are already beyond your depth. When you attempt to quote Bessie's sentiments you should have her letter before you. Perhaps I have a dim perception of the principle that underlies your thirdly. If so, this room is a pertinent illustration of it. Instead of all this white paint, if the wood work had been colored to match the predominant tint in the background of the paper, or a trifle darker, this being also the general 'tone' of the carpet, it is easy to see how the coloring of the room would have been simple and pleasing, instead of glaring and ugly. Yes, your plea for paint is not without value. I think, however, it would be entirely possible to stain the unpainted wood to produce any desired symphony, fugue or discord. It might be unnatural, especially if we wished to look blue, but it would not conceal the marking and shading of the grain of the wood which is so much prettier than any moulding or carving, and vastly easier to keep in order. Your economical arguments are always worth considering. I think the happy compromise for us will be to use hard wood in the first story and painted pine in the chambers, with various combinations and exceptions. The bath-rooms, halls and dressing-rooms of the second story should of course be without paint, and we may relieve the solid monotony of the hardwood finish with occasional fillets or bands of color, painted panels or any other irregularities we choose to invent. But this is invading the mighty and troublous realm of 'interior decoration,' from which I had resolved to keep at a respectful distance until the house is at least definitely planned in all its details." [Illustration: A CHOICE OF WAINSCOTS.] A wise decision, for although what we call in a general way "interior decoration" is closely allied to essential construction--not infrequently seems to be a part of it--there is still a sharp though often unseen line between them that cannot be crossed with impunity. Artistic construction is at best only second cousin to decoration, and while we may in building arrange to accommodate a certain style of furniture or ornament, as Bessie's friend built her parlor to suit the rug, the result of such contriving is apt to be discouraging if not disastrous. "Two things we must surely have," said Jill, "which the architect has not sent; one, an old fashion, the other, a new one. We must have 'chair rails,' in every room down stairs that has not a solid wainscot, if I have to make the plans and put them up myself. We must also have another band of wood higher up entirely around every room in both stories, to which the pictures can be hung." "Perhaps the architect will object to this as interfering with his plans." "He cannot, for they belong to our side of the house; they are matters of use, not of design. He may put them where he pleases, within reasonable limits, and make them of any pattern, with due regard to cost. He may treat one as part of the dado, the other as a member of the cornice, if he chooses, but we _must_ have them--they are indispensable." "They are also dangerous, because they are fashionable." "Yes, an illustration of the temporary agreement of fashion and common sense. But things of real worth do not go out of fashion; fashion goes out of them; henceforth they live by their own merit and no one questions their right to be." "Have you written to Bessie?" "Written to Bessie? What for?" "Why, to come and get ready to start on her mission." "No, indeed; I supposed you had forgotten that absurd notion." "Not at all absurd. I mentioned it to Jim, and he was delighted. Offered to go up and escort her down. He said they could go out in a different direction every day and do a great deal of good in the course of a week." "Jack, I am ashamed of you! Don't mention the subject to me again." "What shall I say to Jim?" [Illustration: WOOD PANELS FOR WALLS AND CEILINGS, WITH IRREGULARITIES IN LEATHER, PAINT AND PAPER.] "You needn't say anything to Jim. Tell him I am going to invite Bessie to visit us in the new house, and if he is in this part of the world I will send for him at the same time." "And that will be a full year, for the house is hardly begun." "Yes, a full year." [Illustration] CHAPTER XVIII. THE HOUSE FINISHED AND THE HOME BEGUN. It was indeed a full year for Jill before Bessie received the promised invitation. Not merely full as to its complement of days, but full of new cares, interests and activities. It is needless to say it was also a happy year. Building a house for a home is a healthful experience, a liberal education to one who can give personal attention to it; who has some knowledge of plans with enough imagination to have a fair conception of what they will be when executed; who is content to receive a reasonable return for a given outlay, not anxious to get the best end of every bargain, nor over-fearful of being cheated; who cares more for home comfort than for a fine display, and whose soul is never vexed by the comments of Mrs. Grundy, nor tormented by the decrees of fashion. The question was raised, whether the house should be built by contract or by "day's work." The worldly-wise friends advised the former. Otherwise they affirmed the cost of the house would exceed the appropriation by fifty, if not a hundred, per cent., since it would be for the interest of both architect and builders to make the house as costly and the job as long as possible. And, while it was doubtless true that "day work" is likely to be better than "job work," still, if the plans and specifications were clearly drawn and the contract made as strong as the pains and penalties of the law could make it, the contractor might be compelled to keep his agreement and furnish "first-class" work. Jill's father settled this point at once. "It is true," said he, "that the plans and specifications should be clearly drawn, that you may see the end from the beginning, and it will be well to carefully estimate the cost, lest, having begun to build, you should be unable to finish. But I am neither willing to hold any man to an agreement, however legal it may be, that requires him to give me more than I have paid for, nor, on the other hand, do I wish to pay him more than a fair value for his work and material. You cannot avoid doing one of these two things in contracting such work as your house, for it is impossible to estimate its cost with perfect accuracy, and no specifications, however binding, can draw a well-defined line between 'first' and 'second'-class work. A general contract may be the least of a choice of evils in some cases; it is not so in yours. If you know just what you want, the right mode of securing it is to hire honest, competent workmen and pay them righteous wages. If, before the work is completed, you find the cost has been underestimated, stop when your money is spent. It may be mortifying and inconvenient to live in an unfinished house; it is far more so to be burdened with debt or an uneasy conscience. There is another thing to be remembered: We hear loud lamentations over the dearth of skillful, trusty laborers. There is no way of promoting intelligent, productive industry--which is the basis of all prosperity--but by employing artisans in such a way that the personal skill and fidelity of each one shall have their legitimate reward. The contract system, as usually practiced, acts in precisely an opposite direction. Your house must be built 'by the day' Jill, or I shall recall my gift." _That_ question was settled. The good and wise man had previously decided as peremptorily an early query relating to the plans. When it was known that a new house was to be built, several architects, with more conceit than self-respect, proposed to offer plans "in open competition"--not to be paid for unless accepted--concerning which Jill had asked her father's advice. [Illustration: THE HOUSE THAT JILL BUILT.] "What should you think of a physician," said he, "who, on hearing that you were ill, should hasten to present himself with a prescription and a bottle of medicine, begging you to read the one, test the other, and, if they made a favorable impression, give him the job of curing you? There are such who call themselves physicians; other people call them quacks, and there is one place for their gratuitous offerings--the fire. I shall burn any plans that are presented in this way. Choose your architect at the outset, and give him all possible aid in carrying out your wishes, but do not employ one of those who must charge a double price for their actual work in order to work for nothing half the time. In any other business such a practice would be condemned at once." "Isn't it the same thing as offering samples of goods?" "No, it is offering the goods themselves--the top of the barrel at that." Of course this did not apply to the contributions that were prompted by personal friendship, of which Jill, as we have seen, received her full share, none of them, excepting the one-story plan, proving in the least tempting. As the race of competent, industrious mechanics is not yet extinct, whatever the croakers may say such were found to build the house, which was well closed in before winter. The walls and roof were completed and the plastering dried while the windows could be left open without danger of freezing, a most important thing, because although mortar may be kept from freezing by artificial heat, the moisture it contains, unless expelled from the house, will greatly retard the "seasoning" of the frame and the walls of the building. After it has all been blown out of the windows, if the house is kept warm and dry the fine wood-finishing will "keep its place" best if put up in winter rather than in summer. For the most carefully seasoned and kiln-dried lumber will absorb moisture so rapidly in the hot, steaming days of June and in the damp dog-day weather that no joiner's skill can prevent cracks from appearing when the dry furnace heat has drawn the moisture from its pores. One year is a reasonable length of time for building a common dwelling-house. Twelve months from the day the workmen appeared to dig the foundation trenches the last pile of builder's rubbish was taken away and the new, clean, bright, naked, empty house stood ready for the first load of furniture. If the social and domestic tastes of Jack and Jill have been even slightly indicated, it is unnecessary to say that this first load did not consist of the brightest and best products of the most fashionable manufacturers. Aunt Melville had sent a few ornaments and two or three elegant trifles in the way of furniture, a chair or two in which no one could sit without danger of mutual broken limbs, and a table that, like many another frail beauty, might enjoy being supported but could never bear any heavier burden than a card-basket, and was liable to be upset by the vigorous use of dust-brush or broom. "They will help to furnish your rooms," said the generous aunt, "and will give a certain style that cannot be attained with furniture that is simply useful." [Illustration: THE FIRST FLOOR OF THE HOUSE THAT JILL BUILT.] The ornaments that were ornamental and nothing more Jill accepted gratefully. The furniture that must be protected to preserve its beauty, and generally avoided lest it should be broken, she returned, begging her aunt to give it to some one having a larger house. On one of those perfect days that are so rare, even in June, Bessie appeared in all the glory of the lilies. To Jill's surprise, her first remark after the customary effusive greeting was, "How _lovely_ it is to have a home of your own. I shouldn't care if it was made of slabs and shaped like a wigwam. Of course, _this_ house is exquisite. I knew it would be, but it is ten times as large as I should want. It will be _so_ much work to take care of it." "I don't expect to take care of it alone." "I know you don't, but I should want to take care of my own house, if I had one, every bit of it. Oh, you needn't look so amazed. I know what I am saying. I have learned to cook, and dust, and sweep, and kindle fires, and polish, silver, and--and black stoves!" No wonder Jill was dumb while Bessie went on at a breathless rate. "And do you know, Jill dear, I wouldn't take this house if you would give it to me. There! I would a thousand times rather have a little bit of a cottage, just large enough for--for two people, and everything in it just as cosy and simple as it could be. Then we--then I could learn to paint and decorate--I've learned a little already--and embroider and such things, and slowly, very slowly, you know, I would fill the house with pretty things that would belong to it and be a part of it, and a part of me, too, because I made them." "Wouldn't it be much cheaper and better to hire some skillful artist to do these things?" said Jill, taking refuge in matter-of-fact. [Illustration: THE SECOND FLOOR OF THE HOUSE THAT JILL BUILT.] "If I hired any one of course it would be an artist, but our homes are not dear to us because they are beautiful, it is because they are _ours_, because we have worked for them and in them until they are a part of ourselves. I love artistic things as well as I ever did, but there are some things that are ten thousand times lovelier." Before Jill had recovered from her astonishment at Bessie's transformed sentiments or imagined their cause, who should drive up but Aunt Jerusha. She and Bessie had never met before, but the mysterious laws of affinity, that pay no regard to outward circumstances or expectations, brought them at once into the warmest sympathy. Jill had provided extremely pretty china for her table, and for Bessie's sake had brought out certain rare pieces not intended for every-day use. It was contrary to her rule to make any difference between "every-day" and "company days." "Nothing is too good for Jack," was the basis of her argument. The one exception was china. But Bessie was absolutely indifferent to the frail and costly pottery. She was intent on learning domestic wisdom from Aunt Jerusha, and insisted upon writing in her note-book the recipes for everything she ate and recording the rules for carrying on whatever household matters chanced to be mentioned, from waxing floors to canning tomatoes. Jack strove to enliven the conversation by throwing in elaborate remarks upon the true sphere of women, the uncertainty of matrimonial ventures and the deceitfulness of mankind in general. Jill meanwhile preserved her equanimity upon all points relating to her house. She admitted the force of Aunt Jerusha's suggestion that a portion of the long serving-table in the kitchen should be movable and a door made from kitchen to china-closet, to be kept locked, as a rule, but available in an emergency, when one or both servants were sick or discharged; she appreciated her advice to form the habit of washing the silver and fine glasses with her own hands before leaving the table; she was able to repeat her favorite recipes correctly; she carved gracefully, as a lady ought, and gave due attention to her guests. Beyond these duties she was in a state of bewilderment. What had happened to Bessie, and what new mischief Jack was incubating were puzzles she could neither solve nor dismiss. [Illustration: THE EAST END OF JILL'S DINING-ROOM.] By one of those coincidences, not half as rare as they seem, at four o'clock the same day Aunt and Uncle Melville appeared upon the scene. They were spending a short time at a summer hotel in the vicinity, and Jill persuaded them to stay for tea, sending their carriage back for Cousin George and his wife, who were at the same place. She also invited her father and mother to improve the opportunity to make a small family gathering. "I suppose you know Jim is coming over this evening," said Jack. "Don't you think he had better bring Uncle Harry along?" "I _didn't_ know Jim was coming, but he is always welcome, and Uncle Harry too. Your father and mother, of course, if they are able to come out this evening." "Oh, _they_ are coming, anyway," Jack began and stopped suddenly. "That is, I mean, certainly they will be delighted, if you send for them." Jill was more puzzled than ever, but they all came. "Now, you will please consider yourselves a 'board of visitors,'" said she, as they sat at the table after tea, "authorized to inspect this institution and report your impressions." "Remembering that Jill is the warden and I am the prisoner," said Jack. "But you must conduct us to the cells," said her father, rising, "and tell us what to admire." Jill accordingly began at the beginning. She showed them the light vestibule, with a closet at one side for umbrellas and overshoes, and a seat at the other; the central hall that would be used as a common reception-room, and on such occasions as the present, would become a part of one large apartment--the entire first floor of the main house; the staircase with the stained-glass windows climbing the side; the toilet-room from the garden entrance and the elevator reaching from the basement to the attic. She showed them the family suite of rooms; her own in the southeast corner, with the dressing-room and adjoining chamber toward the west, and Jack's room over the front hall, with the large guest-room above the dining-room. She urged them to count the closets and notice their ample size; referred with pride to the servants' rooms, and explained how there was space in the roof for two chambers and a billiard-room, if they should ever want them. With true housekeeper's pride she declared the beauties and wonders of the kitchen arrangements, a theme that had been often rehearsed, and from the kitchen they descended to the basement, which contained the well-lighted laundry, the servants' bath-room and store-rooms without name or number; some warm and sunny, others cool and dark, but all dry and well ventilated. Then they returned to the drawing-room to make their reports. "It's too large," said Bessie. "It isn't small enough," said Jim. "The third floor is not the proper place for a billiard-table," remarked Uncle Melville, sententiously. "It is too remote for such a social pastime; too difficult of access; too--too--er--" "The house looks smaller than it is," said Aunt Melville, "which I consider a serious defect. It ought to look larger; it should have a tower, and the front door should be toward the street." "Your chambers are excellent," said Uncle Harry. "The personality of human beings should be respected. The chief object of home is to give to each individual a chance for unfettered development. Every soul is a genius at times and feels the necessity of isolation. Especially do we need to be alone in sleep, and to this end every person in a house is entitled to a separate apartment. I commend the family suite." "A nobby house," said Cousin George. "I like our own better," said his wife, _sotto voce_, which was a worthy sentiment and should have been openly expressed. Fondness for our own is the chief of domestic virtues. "Is it paid for?" inquired Jack's father. To which Jack replied: "It is: and the house that I built is sold to the most stylish people you ever saw. They paid me more than this cost, but I wouldn't swap with them for a thousand dollars to boot." "No; neither would they change with us for two thousand." Just as the clock struck nine the door-bell rang and the rector and his wife were announced. Before Jill could realize what was taking place she found herself an amazed and helpless spectator in her own house, for Jim and Bessie stood side by side under the curtains leading to the library, and the rector was reading the solemn marriage service. By way of calming her excitement Jack found a chance to whisper to Jill, "They have been engaged six months." "You unnatural husband! Why didn't you tell me?" "Didn't know it myself till this afternoon." There was no time for further explanations, for the good rector was saying: "I am sure you will agree with me that building and cherishing a consecrated home is the noblest work we can do on earth. From such homes spring all public and private excellence, all patriotic virtues, all noble charities and philanthropies, all worthy service of God and man. Whether high or low, rich or poor, in all times and in all places, domestic life, in its purity and strength, is the safeguard of individuals and the bulwark of nations. And when, in after years, other solemn sacraments shall be performed beneath this roof, may it still be found a sacred temple of peace and love!" Bessie and Jim kept house in two chambers until a cottage of four rooms, with an attic and wood-shed, was finished, which happened before cold weather. Her wedding present from Jack was an express wagon full of obsolete household utensils. She had learned to make the fire in the kitchen, and nothing was more acceptable than such a load of dry kindling wood. The house that Jill built cost ten thousand dollars. Jim's cost less than one thousand. Bessie declares that the smaller the house the greater the happiness it contains. She may be right, but Jill denies it, and it is never safe to draw general conclusions from special cases. CHAPTER XIX. TEN YEARS AFTER. Jack, Jr., and his sister Bessie, were building block houses on the piazza. Jack was pretending to read the evening paper, in reality watching the builders; and Jill was making no pretense of doing anything else. "Really Jack, I think Bessie shows more skill in building than her brother. Her houses look like realities, and they have more grace and dignity than his." "Of course. Haven't I always said that women would make the best architects if they had a fair chance? Didn't you make the plans of this house? Hasn't it been all our fancy painted and a great deal more? There isn't a stick nor a stone, a brick nor a shingle that I would have changed if we were to build it again." "And haven't I always said that men were more conservative than women? _I_ would be glad to change everything there is in the house to build it all over again, and build it differently." "Oh the inconstancy of women! Even the moon is more constant, for her changes are only superficial and temporary." "When I say; 'I have changed my mind,' it is only another way of saying, 'I am wiser to-day than I was yesterday.'" "I understand; what a Jacob's ladder of wisdom you must be! All right; change your mind every day, grow wiser and wiser; I will try to keep the hem of your garments in sight." "Have you selected a lot?" "What for?" "For a new house." "Bless you, my dear husband, I wouldn't build another house, still less live in it, for all the wealth of the treasury vaults. Isn't this our own? Hasn't it always been perfectly suited to our wants? What upon earth are you thinking of?" "Oh, nothing in particular. I never think if I can help it. I have heard that a man ought always to build two houses, one to learn how, the second to correct the mistakes of the first. I thought perhaps it was the same way with women." "This house was exactly right when it was built, it could not have been improved, but that was ten years ago, and a great many things have happened in the last ten years; but, then, a great many more will happen in the next ten, and ten years hence there will be just as many things to change in the houses that are built this year as there are now in those that are of the same age as ours." "But how would you change this house if it could be done by a magic wand or by the exercise of faith, and without raising a speck of dust or upsetting the housekeeping affairs for a single minute?" "I would make it larger for one thing. Our rooms are too small. The number of rooms a house contains should depend on the number of people there are to live in it, including all the children, the guests and the servants, with a certain allowance for contingencies." "Depending on the hospitality of the family." "Yes; and whatever the number of rooms, they should be large enough, not merely to hold the occupants when the doors are shut, but for comfortable living and moving about. There is nothing in which all men and women are more conservative than in the planning of their houses; there seems to be something hereditary about it, as difficult to change as a tendency to bald heads and awkward locomotion. Americans are special sufferers in this respect. The primitive Anglo-American home was only a step removed from the wigwams of the aboriginal savages, in size, shape and general accommodations. Even our English ancestors, from whom we derived some of our domestic notions, were not accustomed to anything magnificent in the way of dwellings. The climate was against them, and they were not sufficiently luxurious in their tastes. Their houses were primarily places for shelter and refuge. In summer they lived out of doors, and in winter they crept into close quarters and waited for warm weather. With plenty of land and building materials to be had for the taking, our colonial grandfathers should have had the most generous homes in the world." "Yes; and to judge by some of the old colonial mansions which have escaped the 'making-over' vandals we have been going backwards in that respect during the last fifty or a hundred years." "Yes; and we ought to have been going the other way, for the size of rooms should increase as the cost of furniture diminishes. Take for instance, a parlor or sitting room fifteen feet square, which is, I believe, about the orthodox size for a modern house. Give such a room a dozen straight-backed and straight-legged chairs ranged along the sides, a table in the center of the room with a green cover and four books on it, two or three unhappy-looking family portraits on the walls, a pair of brass candlesticks on the high, wooden mantel, a pair of bellows, a shovel and tongs, with, perhaps, in the way of luxury, a haircloth sofa. Now compare the room furnished in that way, which was by no means uncommon in the days of our grandfathers with a room of the same size, in which are stored half a dozen chairs, no two alike, and some of them as large as small lounges, a center table piled with books and magazines and photographs, till like a heap of jack straws, it is impossible to remove one without disturbing the whole pile; a lounge with a back, a divan or something without a back, an upright piano, two or three bookcases, several small stools and piles of Turkish cushions to catch the unwary, huge Japanese vases beside the fireplace, a leopard skin with a solid head in front of the table, and a sprinkling of Persian rugs spilt over the floor; a cabinet of bric-a-brac in the northeast corner, a 'whatnot' with a big jardiniere bearing a three-foot palm on the top story in the northwest, a carved bracket with a sheaf of Florida grasses in the southeast, and a tall wooden clock that won't go in the southwest; a brass tea kettle hanging from a wrought iron frame beside a fragile stand that carries a half dozen of still more fragile 'hand-painted' teacups and saucers; lambrequins and heavy curtains at all the windows and most of the doors, a big combination gas and electric chandelier suspended from the center of the ceiling, bedangled with jumping jacks, Christmas cards, straw ornaments and other artistic 'curious'; one or two small tables scattered 'promiscous like' about the room; a music stand and a banjo; with photographs, chromos, oil paintings, water colors and etchings, from one to three feet square, in gilt, enameled and wooden frames of all styles and degrees of fitness on the walls of the room,--take a room furnished in this way or a great deal more so, and compare it with another of the same actual dimensions furnished in the old-fashioned way and see which is the larger. The modern furnishing may be 'cozy,' oppressively cozy when there are half a dozen people trying to move gracefully around and between it without upsetting or destroying anything, but what sort of hospitality can we offer our guests if they must be always afraid of breaking something valuable if they stir?" "Why not have a bonfire and liquidate some of this superfluous stock?" "It is not superfluous; all these things, if they are good add to the enjoyment of living, if we have room for them and are able to take good care of them without neglecting weightier matters. Our own rooms are not large enough. However, if we cannot enlarge them we can build new ones for special purposes. For one, we must have a children's workroom. If Jack is going to be an artist, and you know he shows decided talent, and Bessie an architect, there's no doubt of her having real genius in that direction, they should have one room immediately, and two by and by, for their own exclusive use. A room where they could keep all their books, and tools and toys, and where they could work in their own spontaneous, untrammeled way." "You mean a nursery." "No, I do _not_ mean a nursery, but a workshop, study, gymnasium, call it anything you please. The floor should be smooth and hard, and the walls should be wainscoted with smooth, hard wood. There should be blackboards and shelves at the sides, and the children should be allowed to drive nails wherever they please. I am not sure but I would have a sink and a water faucet." "Not unless the room is in the cellar or has a floor tight enough for a swimming tank. Well, what next?" "We must have a hospital." "For inebriates or the insane?" "A room similar to the private wards in a hospital. You know our own and the children's sleeping rooms are very simply furnished, but a sick room should be still more severe. The children have both had the measles, thank goodness, and I hope they never will have smallpox, scarlet fever, or diphtheria, but if they should it would be necessary to send them away from home or run the risk of their exposing one another." "You might as well include every other ill that flesh is heir to. If we have got to fight germs day and night in order to live, the cleaner and more open we can keep the battle ground the better. It strikes me that it might be a good thing to have the whole house sort of clean and wholesome." "Of course. But none of us would like to have the living rooms as absolutely bare of all superfluous furnishing as a hospital ward. We should not be willing to give up our rugs, take down the curtains, throw away the cushions and sit in hard wooden chairs." "No, and I wouldn't like to burn my books, although there is nothing quite so 'germy' as my musty old books that were made in Italy in plague times and smell like the 16th century every time they are opened. So I suppose we must have a hospital for the children to be sick in, a workshop for them to work in, and what would you say to a small chapel and penitentiary, with a dungeon or two? While we are about it, let's have a market and cold storage annex." "Precisely what I was going to suggest. It would be the easiest thing in the world to attach a small room to the cellar or the kitchen, where a low temperature can be kept at all times, either by ice or by the artificial refrigeration that will soon be distributed and sold in the same way that gas, water, steam, electric light and power are now furnished in many cities." "I never thought of it before, but why shouldn't milk and beer and other medicinal drinks be distributed in the same way as water and gas?" "Please don't interrupt me. These are really serious considerations. Why, Jack, we haven't begun to guess at the wonderful changes that are to be made in all our housekeeping affairs, as well as in everything else by electricity. In a few years we shall find our present cooking arrangements as much out of date as the old turnspit and tin ovens and the great wood fires on the hearth. And light! Our houses will be as light as day all the time, unless we choose darkness in order to sleep more comfortably." "Or because our deeds be evil, or for the better accommodation of burglars. No self-respecting burglar would think of 'burgling' without a dark lantern." "And heat; do you remember how something more than twenty-five years ago a French scientist proposed to supply all the heat needed for human comfort in cold climates directly from the sun's rays?" "I can't say that I do remember that particular philosopher, but I have a notion that the sun was considered a fair sort of furnace a good many years before the first Frenchman was born." "Yes, yes; but he was going to gather the sun's heat into such shape that it would warm our houses in winter, do all the cooking, take the place of all the steam boilers and furnaces. I never heard that his theories were reduced to practice, but we have found another source of light and heat that is already under our control. There is no more doubt that all the warmth, illumination and mechanical power that we can use are within our reach, when we have learned how to take possession of them, than there is of gravitation. It is all waiting at the door, we have only to clap our hands and the potent spirit is ready to do our bidding." "Without money and without price?" "No, not quite that, there are too many incorporated monopolies in the way. But it is coming nearer and nearer, and with the unlimited power of wind and waves and waterfalls, all these things will soon be as cheap as anything really worth having ought to be." "Say, Jill, do you suppose we shall live to see all our necessities supplied, gratis, and have nothing to work for except the luxuries?" "We have lived long enough to find that for most people in our day and generation, even for those who think they have to work very hard 'just to get a living,' their most serious toil is to provide, what might be called, not the 'bare' necessities of life, but the well-dressed necessities. But it is time for those children to be in bed." CHAPTER XX. A DOUBLE CONCLUSION. "Now Jill," this was half an hour later, the children were asleep and the gas was lighted, "let us by way of amusement draw plans of a castle in Spain. Let us forget all the houses that ever were built and fancy ourselves, not Adam and Eve, with the responsibility of setting the housekeeping pace for the rest of the human family nor Robinson Crusoe, whose domestic arrangements were somewhat handicapped, but a wise pair of semi-Bourbons, at the end of the 19th century, who forget nothing old but are willing to learn and adopt anything new, provided it is good." "All right; go ahead." "In the first place our castle will not be destructible by fire or water. All the walls will be of masonry and the floor beams will be of steel. There will be nothing to invite moth or rust." "Nor burglars; not so much as a silver spoon or a candlestick." "I have always been sorry that the roof of this house was not fireproof, but I suppose it would have cost too much, though the architect said it might have been made like the floors if we would consent to have it flat." "Moral: if you want a roof of the mountainous variety you must either pay for it or run the risk of being burned out on top. But what do castles in Spain care for the cost? We can have fireproof roofs in miniature copy of Alpine peaks or we can use them for billiard tables and croquet grounds." "Really," Jill continued, "there is no good reason for steep roofs. Snow is more troublesome on the ground around the house than on top of it, if it will stay there, and a very slight slope will carry off the rain. I fancy steep roofs must have been invented when builders used such clumsy materials for covering that they were obliged to lay them on a steep pitch in order to keep out the water. Shingles of course last longer the steeper the roof." "If that's the case they ought to last forever on the second story walls of our house, where they are straight up and down. When you come to think of it, high roofs must be built now-a-days mainly for show, incidentally they cover the house. First beautiful, then useful. How large will it be?" "What, the roof?" "No, the whole thing; how many rooms will it have?" "That will depend on the size of the family. Not less than ten nor more than forty. Ten rooms will answer for two people, and more than forty complicates the housekeeping." "Do you count closets?" "Oh, no. Closets and dressing rooms, storerooms, bath rooms, cupboards and things of that sort, are mere adjuncts. They are to the real rooms what the pockets are to a suit of clothes." "Excellent. I'm glad we haven't got to count the closet or the expense. Probably ten rooms are not too many for two young people, but a pair of childless octogenarians ought to get along with eight or nine; the other way you are all right, only I would say four hundred. While we are about it, let's have a comfortable, good sized, 'roomy' house. But how do you propose to put even forty rooms with their various pockets under one roof and give them all plenty of sunlight and fresh air? Will you pile them up one above another or set them in a row on the ground? In either case it would need a trolly car and a telephone to connect the two ends of the line." "It mustn't be more than two stories high, and I'm not sure but one would be better." "That means twenty rooms on each floor. The rooms will average twenty feet long, and that will make the entire length of our castle four or five hundred feet. Won't it look like an institution or a row of tenements if it is strung out in a line?" "It will not be." "Cut up into wings and things?" "No, it will be in the form of a hollow square. There may be a wing or two on one side or another, and wherever a projecting bay or oriel will add to the comfort or charm of the interior we shall have one, but its general form will be a great square with an open court in the center." "Oh, I see. An imitation Pompeian, or Florentine palace." "No, nothing of the kind. Not an imitation of anything. It will be a simple, straightforward, common-sense, American home, with room for a good-sized family, several rooms for extra occasions, and some that will not be finished at all but held in reserve for future contingencies. It sometimes costs no more to enclose a certain space in building than to leave it outside, and there is the same satisfaction in knowing we have space to spare inside the house that there is in owning the land that joins us even when we don't expect to sell or use it." "What shall we do with the big hole in the center? It will be too small for golf or tennis, and too big for a conservatory. We might keep hens." "It will not be too large for a garden, with fountains for hot weather and flowers for cold. It will be its own excuse for being, for it will give light and air to all the rooms, and if it has a glass roof the problem of comfortable living in cold weather will be solved. There will always be the temperate zone at one side of the house,--that is inside the court,--however high the drifts may be piled outside. Of course the entire building will be warmed in winter and cooled in summer by spicy breezes driven by electric fans, and we shall only have to decide what temperature we prefer on different days of the week, set the gauge, and there will be no more watching of the thermometer, the registers, the weather reports or the wood pile." "But I thought it was wrong to live in a river of warm air. Uncle John compares that to taking a perpetual warm bath." "It is wrong; but, my dear Jack, life is a succession of compromises, especially domestic life, and considering the practical difficulties in the way of open hickory fires in all the forty or more rooms, we must be content with the artificially warmed air for every day use and consider radiated heat from wood fires, coal grates, or sunshine, as luxuries." "Certainly; it would be a pity to make all luxuries impossible just because we happen to own a castle in Spain. Aren't you afraid our court will be dreadfully hot in summer, shut in by four brick walls?" "By no means; it will be particularly cool. If we like we can have a great awning to draw over it in the hottest weather, and wide halls will allow a perfect circulation of air throughout the whole structure. In addition to this, on the highest part of the roof there will be a space fitted for an outdoor sitting room, sheltered when necessary by awnings and screens, but most delightful on hot summer evenings." "Oh, yes, I see. A sort of copy of the old Egyptian houses." "No, not a sort of a copy of anything, but a simple application of common sense. In the evening when there is a breeze from any direction, the highest part of the house will be the coolest." "I thought it was to be a two-story house. How can one part be higher than the rest?" "I didn't say it was to be all of the same height. Some rooms will be much higher than others because they will be larger. If a room is to be of agreeable proportions, the height must be determined by the size. It may be best to make the north side three stories high and the south only one; that would give more sunlight on the north wall of the court and make the average two stories." "Nothing like keeping up the average. But aren't forty rooms with all the closets and storerooms, and stairways and halls, and bays and oriels and dungeons going to make a large house for one family? Can't we work the same idea on a smaller scale?" "Of course, but that is not too large for a comfortable home for a family of moderate size. Count your fingers and try it. To begin at that end of the establishment, we want a scullery, a kitchen, and a servants' dining room; we want a breakfast room, and a large dining room for the family, and the dining room, by the way, should be one of the largest rooms in the house, say twenty-one or two feet by thirty six or forty; we want a parlor, a drawing room, a library, a billiard room and a picture gallery; a music room and ball room, these being, of course, in one, but as large as two ordinary rooms; then we want a nursery, a workroom for the children, a sick room and a sewing room, an office and a smoking room, and one or two extra sitting or reception rooms. Each member of the family should have a private sitting room and bedroom, with dressing room and bath for each suite. That, you see, would just about suit a family of ten people without counting the servants." [Illustration: A CASTLE IN SPAIN.] "Have you made any calculation Jill, dear, as to how many people there are at present in the United States who could manage to scrape along with thirty-nine rooms instead of forty?" "Why should I? This is a castle in Spain. We have plenty of money, plenty of room, plenty of time. Our only anxiety is lest there should be a lack of brains to make good use of our room and time and money." "And what shall we build it of, jasper, sapphire and chalcedony?" "No, burned clay and granite, steel, copper and glass. It shall be defiant of fire and flood; it shall neither burn up nor rot down." "One thing more, Jill, when we come to make our wills to which one of the children shall we bequeath the castle?" Before Jill could answer the door was hurriedly opened and Bessie appeared upon the threshold. "I've just run away from Jim," she began rapidly. "We haven't had a family quarrel exactly, but we've argued it over and over, and we come out just as far apart as ever. Finally I told him I would leave it to you." "I haven't any idea what it is all about, but did Jim agree to that?" "I didn't give him a chance to differ. He always agrees to everything Jill says about building houses But don't interrupt me. The baby may wake up at any minute and then Jim will be helpless. The truth is he is dissatisfied with our home." "Jim, dissatisfied; impossible!" "Yes, he thinks it's too small." "He wants more servants, I suppose; several additional children, a lot more poor relations, and all the various items that go to make up a well-ordered household." "No, no; it is the house that is too small." "Excuse me, you said the home. The house is a very different affair." "You remember," Bessie continued, "that when it was built ten years ago Jim thought it was not large enough. Now he is determined to sell it and build a new one. There are five good rooms besides the closets, and as there is nobody but Jim and me and the four children and one servant, we have all the room we need. We have always been perfectly comfortable, and I can't bear the thought of selling our home." Here Bessie began to show symptoms of dissolution, but swallowing her emotion she continued, "If we could build on a room or two as we need them I wouldn't mind it. But if you advise us to sell this house for the sake of having another, I'll"-- "We shan't advise any such thing," said Jack, "but it's perfectly natural for Jim to think you ought to have a larger, more modern house." "But I don't want a more modern house," Bessie protested, "if there is any created thing that I despise it is a 'modern' house, made up of bay windows and crooked turrets, and shingled balconies, and peaked roofs, and grotesque little fandangoes of wood and copper and terra cotta, that have no more dignity or repose, or beauty or homelike appearance, than a crazy quilt or a Chinese puzzle. They are simply outrageous, abominable. I would sooner have the children brought up in a reform school or a house of correction." "How would you like a colonial house?" Bessie's indignation had spent itself, and she resumed her ordinary, but sometimes misleading manner. "Isn't it a pity we were not all born a hundred years ago, then we might have had colonial houses. But why should I want to live in an uncomfortable old curiosity shop when I like my house just as it is? Our trouble is that Jim wants the house twice as large as it is now and I want only one more room." "Bessie," said Jack, in his most fatherly manner, "I am surprised that two sensible people like you and Jim should fall into such a distressing controversy over nothing, absolutely nothing. You are already in perfect accord. Jim says the house is only half large enough. You say you want one more room. The house is now just thirty-three feet long and thirty-three feet wide; add a new room thirty-three feet square; you will have the one extra room, and Jim will have the house doubled in size. Isn't that right?" "Yes," said Jill; "It is exactly what I should have suggested if you had given me a chance. Do you remember the charming room in the old Florentine palace, where we spent the winter, and how we enjoyed it, and finally measured it for the benefit of some other Americans who intended to build a new house as soon as they got home? That was just thirty-three feet square and eighteen feet high. There was a grand piano in one corner, in another a group of chairs with bookcases, in another sofas and chairs and tables scattered about, so that in effect it was equal to several small rooms. Indeed one of our party described it in a home letter as a magnificent apartment one hundred feet each way. It would accommodate several callers, with their different groups of friends, and it was of course a capital place for music and dancing. In your new room you will have one corner for the children and another for yourselves. The Dorcas society can meet at one side while your little Jack and his friends are playing games at the other. It won't be many years before Bessie will claim a large section, including one of the bay windows, for her own use." "I think I hear the baby crying. Thank you, I'll talk it over with Jim. Good night." "Do you think they will do it?" Jack inquired. "Of course they will; it is by far the most sensible thing. As a family they are always together and always will be, and one large room will suit them better than several small ones. Perhaps it will be the best thing for us, until we can build our castle in Spain. It certainly will not cost as much as making over and enlarging the rooms we have." "That is true, and it is my impression that the wisest way to enlarge an old house is to nail up the windows, seal up the doors and go ahead with the additions without taking out the nails or breaking the seals till it is all done; that would save time, money and patience." "Yes, and more than that," said Jill, "it would preserve the charm of the old house which grows stronger every year until the loss of the familiar rooms and their hallowed associations seems like parting with a dear old friend." 
42469	----	available by Internet Archive (https://archive.org) Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this file which includes the original illustrations. See 42469-h.htm or 42469-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/42469/42469-h/42469-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/42469/42469-h.zip) Images of the original pages are available through Internet Archive. See https://archive.org/details/convenienthouses00gibs [Illustration: FIGURE A.] CONVENIENT HOUSES With Fifty Plans for the Housekeeper Architect and Housewife--A Journey Through the House--Fifty Convenient House Plans--Practical House Building for the Owner--Business Points in Building--How to Pay for a Home by LOUIS H. GIBSON Architect New York: Thomas Y. Crowell & Co. Copyright, 1889, By Louis H. Gibson. C. J. Peters & Son, Typographers And Electrotypers, 145 High Street, Boston. PREFACE. When the reader is familiar with the writer's general purposes, it is easier to understand the details of his work. This book is intended to deal with houses in a housekeeping spirit. In doing this, the architect has in mind convenience, stability, and that ideal of housekeepers, beauty of surroundings. In carrying out this idea, the relation of architecture to good and economical housekeeping is first considered. Following this division is "A Journey through the House." It begins at the porch, moves through the different rooms, and stops to consider the various details. This brings about not only a consideration of the general arrangement of a house, but such details as kitchens and pantries, plumbing, laundry, and heating. These first two sections of the book--"The Architect and the Housewife," and "A Journey through the House"--are, in a measure, educational. After this, and in keeping with the general principles that have been set forth, plans of fifty convenient houses are illustrated and described. For the most part, they are houses that have been built. The next section is devoted to practical house-building. It is constructed by taking a complete specification for everything which may concern a dwelling-house, and ridding it, as far as possible, of all technicalities; thus putting in form all practical house-building questions for the benefit of the owner. Following this is the consideration of business points in building, which sets forth methods of letting contracts with the view of securing the best results without waste of money. The closing section is devoted to the getting of a home,--how to arrange the monthly-payment schemes, building-association plans, and other methods for getting a house on easy instalments. LOUIS H. GIBSON, ARCHITECT. INDIANAPOLIS, IND., September, 1889. CONTENTS. _THE ARCHITECT AND THE HOUSEWIFE._ CHAPTER I. THE HOUSEKEEPER AND THE ARCHITECT.--FLOOR-PLANS AS RELATED TO GOOD HOUSEKEEPING.--LABOR-SAVING DEVICES.--ECONOMY AND GOOD CONSTRUCTION.--COMPACT HOUSES NOT NECESSARILY CROWDED.--WOOD-WORK THAT IS READILY CLEANED 11-15 CHAPTER II. HOUSEKEEPING OPERATIONS.--THE WORK OF THE HOUSEKEEPER.--THE AVERAGE HOUSEWORK OF A WEEK.--THE ARCHITECT'S LESSON THEREFROM 16-20 CHAPTER III. MODERN CONVENIENCES.--A LITTLE HISTORY.--PLANS THAT MAKE EXTRA WORK.--MODERN CONVENIENCES ENUMERATED 21-25 CHAPTER IV. MODERN ARCHITECTS AND THE HOUSEKEEPER.--MISPLACED HOUSES.--OLD COLONIAL POVERTY IN MODERN COLONIAL HOUSES.--AFFECTATION IN DESIGN.--NATURAL DEVELOPMENT OF AMERICAN ARCHITECTURE.--AMERICAN ARCHITECTURE AND AMERICAN HOMES 26-28 _A JOURNEY THROUGH THE HOUSE._ CHAPTER V. JOURNEY THROUGH THE HOUSE.--PORCH.--VESTIBULE.--HALL.--LONG HALLS AND SQUARE HALLS.--THE HALL THAT IS A ROOM.--RECEPTION-HALL.--PARLOR.--SITTING-ROOM.--DINING-ROOM 31-38 CHAPTER VI. KITCHENS.--THE KITCHEN A WORKSHOP.--WORK TO BE DONE IN A KITCHEN.--A PLAN.--FITTINGS.--DISH-WASHING CONVENIENCES.--SINK AND TABLES.--CHINA-CLOSET.--PANTRY. --COMBINATION PANTRY.--PANTRY FITTINGS.--WORK IN A PANTRY.--A DOUGH-BOARD.--FLOUR-BIN.--PANTRY STORES.--CUPBOARD.--REFRIGERATOR ARRANGEMENTS.--PANTRY UTENSILS.--A DRY-BOX.--SOAP-BOX.--VENTILATION OF KITCHEN.--GENERAL PRINCIPLES OF KITCHEN PLANNING 39-50 CHAPTER VII. CELLAR.--FUEL DEPARTMENTS.--FURNACE CONVENIENCES.--COAL-BINS. --CEMENT FLOORS.--LIGHT IN THE CELLAR.--A CELLAR-CLOSET. --OUTSIDE CELLAR-DOOR 51-53 CHAPTER VIII. A LOW-COST LAUNDRY.--BLUE MONDAY.--BASEMENT LAUNDRY.--LOW-COST CONVENIENCES.--INEXPENSIVE LAUNDRY FITTINGS.--HOT AND COLD WATER ARRANGEMENTS.--A LABOR-SAVING LAUNDRY.--A PLACE TO DO FRUIT-CANNING 54-58 CHAPTER IX. THE SECOND FLOOR.--STAIRWAYS.--THE COMBINATION STAIRWAY.--IDEAL NUMBER OF BEDROOMS.--LARGE CLOSETS AND PLENTY OF THEM.--A LINEN CLOSET.--PLACING OF GAS-FIXTURES.--SERVANT'S ROOM.--BATH-ROOM.--AN ATTIC.--ATTIC CLOSETS.--ATTIC ROOMS 59-63 CHAPTER X. PLUMBING.--IS PLUMBING ENTIRELY SAFE?--COMPLETENESS IN PLUMBING APPARATUS.--LABOR-SAVING PLUMBING APPARATUS.--SEWER CONNECTIONS.--SOIL PIPE.--A TRAP.--ACCIDENTS TO TRAPS.--FREQUENT USE OF PLUMBING APPARATUS DESIRABLE FOR SAFETY.--WATER-CLOSETS.--SIMPLICITY IN PLUMBING.--DRAIN CONNECTIONS.--TO KEEP PLUMBING APPARATUS FROM FREEZING.--CISTERN WATER SUPPLY.--GREASE SINK.--FLUSHING OF DRAIN.--BATH-TUB 64-74 CHAPTER XI. HEAT AND VENTILATION.--COMMON HEATING ARRANGEMENTS.--PRESENT METHODS GENERALLY UNSATISFACTORY.--IDEAL CONDITIONS.--PROPER AMOUNT OF MOISTURE RARELY ATTAINED.--A FURNACE DEFINED.--METHODS OF REACHING BEST RESULTS.--SUPPLY OF PROPER AMOUNT OF MOISTURE.--REMOVAL OF FOUL AIR.--SUPPLYING FRESH AIR WITH PROPER MOISTURE FROM STOVES.--STEAM AND HOT-WATER HEATING.--DIRECT AND INDIRECT RADIATION.--LOW-COST HEATING APPARATUS 75-82 CHAPTER XII. HEATING DEVICES AS WE FIND THEM.--FURNACE ESTIMATES.--COMBINATION HOT AIR AND HOT WATER.--DISH-WARMING ARRANGEMENTS.--HOW TO GET A GOOD HEATING APPARATUS 83-85 CHAPTER XIII. THE HOUSE AND ITS BEAUTY.--ARTISTIC SURROUNDINGS.--BEAUTY MORE A MATTER OF INTELLIGENCE THAN MONEY.--VESTIBULE DECORATIONS.--BEAUTY IN THE RECEPTION-HALL.--MANTELS AND GRATES.--FRET-WORK AND PORTIÈRES.--SPINDLE WORK.--SIMPLE FORMS OF GOOD DECORATION.--WOOD-CARVING.--DOOR AND WINDOW CASINGS.--A CONSERVATORY.--STAINED GLASS.--A CABINET ON THE MANTEL.--TINTED PLASTERING. --FRESCOING.--SAFETY IN THE SELECTION OF COLORS.--AN ATTRACTIVE SITTING-ROOM.--THE PARLOR.--A RECEPTION-ROOM. --PARLOR HISTORY.--THE IDEAL PARLOR.--THE LIBRARY.--A PLACE OF QUIET AND REST.--LIBRARY FURNISHINGS.--THE DINING-ROOM.--SOCIAL RELATIONS OF THE DINING-ROOM. --DINING-ROOM DECORATIONS.--CONSERVATORY AND DINING-ROOM. --A WOOD CEILING.--BEAUTY IN BEDROOMS.--QUIET AND LIGHT 86-100 CHAPTER XIV. EXTERNAL AND INTERNAL DESIGN.--AN OLD TOPIC BEFORE THE PEOPLE.--THE ARCHITECTURAL STUDENT'S DREAM.--A BEAUTIFUL HOME THE HOUSEKEEPER'S AMBITION.--IT COSTS NO MORE TO HAVE A HOUSE BEAUTIFUL THAN UGLY.--ARCHITECTURAL EDUCATION.--CHARLES EASTLAKE'S BOOK.--VULGAR ARCHITECTURAL REVIVALS.--THE GROWTH OF THE ARTISTIC IDEA.--BEAUTY A MATTER OF REFINEMENT 101-105 _PLANS OF FIFTY CONVENIENT HOUSES._ CHAPTER XV. EVOLUTION OF A HOUSE-PLAN.--RESPECTABLE DIMENSIONS FOR A MODERATE PRICE.--SIX PLANS.--COSTS FROM $1,500 TO $2,600 109-117 CHAPTER XVI. A SMALL POCKET-BOOK AND A LARGE IDEA.--AMBITION, DOLLARS, AND A GOOD HOUSE.--THE GROWTH OF THE HOUSEKEEPER'S IDEAS.--POINTS ABOUT THE HOUSE.--$2,900 118-125 CHAPTER XVII. "WE KNOW WHAT WE WANT."--A CONVENIENT PLAN.--MEETING THE WANTS OF PEOPLE WHO BUILD 126-130 CHAPTER XVIII. TWO GOOD ROOMS IN FRONT.--THE COMBINATION PANTRY.--TOO MUCH CELLAR A BURDEN.--$2,500 131-134 CHAPTER XIX. SITTING-ROOM AND PARLOR IN FRONT.--A CONNECTING VESTIBULE.--A CENTRAL COMBINATION STAIRWAY.--GOOD ROOMS IN THE ATTIC 135-138 CHAPTER XX. A COMPACT PLAN.--AN ISOLATED RECEPTION-ROOM.--COMBINATION STAIRWAY.--DESCRIPTION OF THE FLOOR-PLAN.--CELLAR ARRANGEMENT.--DINING-ROOM AND CONSERVATORY.--ANOTHER PLAN 139-144 CHAPTER XXI. WHAT CAN BE DONE FOR $1,600?--THE CLOSET IN THE HALL.--A SMALL, CONVENIENT KITCHEN.--CLOSETS IN THE BEDROOMS 145-151 CHAPTER XXII. OUTGROWTHS OF ONE IDEA.--EVERYTHING COUNTS AS A ROOM.--ONE CHIMNEY.--CONVENIENCES OF A CONDENSED HOUSE.--COST FROM $1,600 TO $2,800 152-156 CHAPTER XXIII. ONE-STORY PLANS.--DESCRIPTION OF FLOOR-PLANS.--BATH-ROOM NEXT TO KITCHEN FLUE.--KITCHEN, PORCH, AND PANTRY.--THE EXTERIOR.--ENLARGEMENTS ON THIS PLAN.--OTHER ONE-STORY HOUSES 157-163 CHAPTER XXIV. SIDE-HALL PLANS.--PLANS WITH BEDROOM ON FIRST FLOOR 164-170 CHAPTER XXV. MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION.--SHORT DESCRIPTIONS OF ELEVEN HOUSE-PLANS.--VARYING COSTS.--SQUARE PLANS.--ONE-CHIMNEY PLANS.--REAR AND SIDE HALL 171-181 CHAPTER XXVI. EIGHT PLANS.--EACH SUITED TO FAMILY REQUIREMENTS.--DOUBLE HOUSES.--AN ELABORATE FLOOR-PLAN.--A SHINGLE HOUSE.--A BRICK HOUSE 182-193 _PRACTICAL HOUSE-BUILDING._ CHAPTER XXVII. PRACTICAL POINTS.--WATER.--LOCATION OF HOUSE ON LOT. --DRAINING THE CELLAR.--MASON WORK.--FOUNDATIONS.--WALKS. --PIERS.--FLUES.--CISTERNS.--DAMP COURSE 197-200 CHAPTER XXVIII. BRICK FOUNDATIONS.--LAYING BRICK.--COLORED MORTARS.--COLORED BRICKS.--BRICK VENEERING.--HOT-AIR FLUES.--DETAILS OF BRICK CONSTRUCTION.--CHIMNEYS AND FLUES.--HOLLOW WALLS.--CELLAR.--ASH-PITS.--GRATES 201-206 CHAPTER XXIX. STONE MASONRY.--CUT STONE.--TERRA COTTA.--PRIVY VAULTS. --CISTERNS.--FILTERS FOR CISTERNS.--BRICK PAVEMENTS.--CEMENT PAVEMENTS 207-212 CHAPTER XXX. CARPENTER-WORK.--FRAMING.--SIZE OF TIMBERS.--HEIGHT OF STORIES.--JOIST.--STUD WALLS.--OUTSIDE SHEATHING. --BUILDING-PAPER.--ROOFS.--OUTSIDE FINISH.--OUTSIDE SHINGLE WALLS.--OUTSIDE CASINGS.--WINDOWS WITH BOX FRAMES.--HINGED OR PIVOTED WINDOWS.--OUTSIDE SHUTTERS. --PORCHES.--LATTICE PORCHES 213-221 CHAPTER XXXI. INSIDE WOOD-WORK.--FLOORS.--SOFT AND HARD WOOD FLOORS. --TABULATED STATEMENT OF INSIDE FINISH.--DIFFERENT KINDS OF WOOD.--DOORS AND FRAMES.--FLY SCREENS.--INSIDE CASINGS.--WAINSCOTING.--INSIDE SHUTTERS.--WOOD-WORK FOR PLUMBING.--KITCHEN SINK AND FITTINGS.--KITCHEN TABLES.--CELLAR-SINK FITTINGS.--WOOD-WORK FOR BATH-TUB.--WATER-CLOSETS.--WASH-STANDS.--TANK.--PICTURE MOULDING.--CLOSET FITTINGS.--BROOM-RACK.--CEDAR-CLOSET. --DRY-BOX.--CLOCK SHELF.--CHINA-ROOM FITTINGS.--PANTRY FITTINGS.--STAIRWAYS 222-235 CHAPTER XXXII. PLASTERING.--GRAY FINISH.--WHITE HARD FINISH.--BACK PLASTERING.--GAS-PIPING.--TIN WORK.--GUTTERS.--VALLEYS. --DOWN SPOUTS.--GALVANIZED IRON-WORK.--HOT-AIR PIPES. --THIMBLES.--PAINTING.--STAINING.--OIL FINISHING.--INTERIOR STAINING.--FLOOR FINISH.--GLAZING.--PLATE-GLASS.--BEVELLED GLASS.--CATHEDRAL GLASS.--HARDWARE 236-246 CHAPTER XXXIII. PRACTICAL PLUMBING.--WOOD-WORK FOR PLUMBER.--EXCAVATING FOR PLUMBER.--WATER DISTRIBUTION.--OUTSIDE FIXTURES. --HYDRANTS.--STREET-WASHERS.--SOFT-WATER SUPPLY.--HOT-WATER SUPPLY.--SOIL PIPE.--INSIDE FIXTURES.--KITCHEN SINK.--CELLAR SINK 247-254 CHAPTER XXXIV. PLUMBING WORK CONTINUED.--BATH-TUBS.--BATH-SPRINKLERS. --FOOT-TUBS.--SAFES.--WATER-CLOSETS.--WASH-STANDS.--LAUNDRY FITTINGS.--SET TUBS.--OUTSIDE DRAINS.--GREASE SINKS.--NICKEL FITTINGS 255-263 CHAPTER XXXV. COST OF A HOUSE.--SCHEDULES OF COSTS.--WHAT GOES INTO A HOUSE.--SCHEDULE "B."--COST DETAILS 264-269 CHAPTER XXXVI. VARYING BUILDING VALUES.--COST OF APPURTENANCES.--PRICES OF LABOR AND MATERIAL ON WHICH ESTIMATES ARE BASED. 270-274 _BUSINESS POINTS IN BUILDING._ CHAPTER XXXVII. LOW-COST HOUSES.--METHODS OF MAKING CONTRACTS.--ARCHITECTS' ESTIMATES.--BUILDING BY THE DAY.--THE SAFEST PLAN.--GUARDING AGAINST LIENS 277-287 _HOW TO SECURE A HOME._ CHAPTER XXXVIII. MONTHLY PAYMENTS.--CALCULATIONS ON A LONG-TIME PLAN.--PURCHASE ON A RENTAL BASIS.--HOW IT MAY BE WORKED OUT 291-294 CHAPTER XXXIX. BUILDING ASSOCIATIONS.--WHY DIVIDENDS ARE LARGE AND INTEREST LOW.--BUILDING ASSOCIATIONS AND SAVINGS BANKS.--ASSOCIATION SECURITIES.--BUILDING-ASSOCIATION METHODS.--DIFFERENT PLANS.--BORROWING FROM A BUILDING ASSOCIATION.--A BUILDING-ASSOCIATION REPORT 295-311 CHAPTER XL. PURCHASE OF A LOT.--THE BEST THE CHEAPEST.--A GOOD LOT AS A BASIS OF SECURITY.--THE BASIS OF VALUE IS THE RENTAL 312-316 THE ARCHITECT AND THE HOUSEWIFE. CONVENIENT HOUSES. CHAPTER I. THE HOUSEKEEPER AND THE ARCHITECT.--FLOOR-PLANS AS RELATED TO GOOD HOUSEKEEPING.--LABOR-SAVING DEVICES.--ECONOMY AND GOOD CONSTRUCTION.--COMPACT HOUSES NOT NECESSARILY CROWDED.--WOOD-WORK THAT IS READILY CLEANED. There is a definite relation between the work of the housekeeper and that of the architect. This is the text of this book. It is a part of the business of the architect to do what he can to make housekeeping easy. He can do a great deal. He should understand the principles and practice of good housekeeping. This knowledge is something which cannot be derived from the architectural schools or offices; it must come from a home. The public press of the country has had a great deal to say about the artistic qualities of domestic architecture, a great deal to say about house decoration, and, altogether, has furnished much valuable matter. Little, however, has been said as to the relation of architecture to good housekeeping. The artistic element should not be neglected. There must also be considered the question of convenient arrangement, economy and ease, for the housekeeper. Washing dishes is disagreeable work, but the architect can do his part toward making it easier. If we take a conglomerate mass of china, knives, forks, and spoons, pots, pans, and kettles, and bring them together on one small kitchen table, which has a dish-pan on one end and a wooden water-bucket at the back, with a scarcity of everything to facilitate the progress of the work, we have a condition quite different from that wherein there is a roomy sink with a table on each side of it, and plenty of hot and cold water above. An architect may plan a kitchen so that all of these conveniences are possible. He may plan it so they are impossible. The floor-plan of a house has a definite relation to house keeping requirements, which is not fully appreciated. The difference between a good floor-plan and a poor one may make the difference of three or four tons of coal in the heating of a house during the winter. It may influence the keeping of a servant, the wages to be paid, or may control the necessity for one or more than one. It makes more difference to a man who lives in a house that costs two thousand dollars or three thousand dollars, as to whether he burns seven or ten tons of coal in warming it, than it does to the man who lives in a ten-thousand-dollar or twelve-thousand-dollar house as to whether he burns fourteen or twenty tons. The cost of fuel is of more importance to a man of moderate means than to one of wealth. Then in the matter of service: it is difficult to keep a good servant in a bad kitchen, or in a badly planned house where there is a vast amount of sweeping and other work to be done every day. Those who plan factories and mills arrange them with reference to the saving of labor. The idea in saving labor is to save money. One can build a better house for a given sum of money at this time than ever before. The real reason for this is to be found outside the fact that material and labor are cheaper now than they have been in the past. It is because of the thought that is put into the planning and arranging of dwellings. It is the thought that saves the money. It adds external and internal attractiveness, convenience, labor-saving devices, and arrangements. Thought helps to make housekeeping easier. Economical housekeeping can be most readily carried on in a compact house. To say that a house is compact does not necessarily imply that it is crowded, or that any of the conditions of comfort are neglected. If we avoid waste space, such as is frequently assigned to large halls and passages, we merely take away something that is not needed. It frequently happens that a man and his wife go through life with the hope of building a better house "some day." They are economical; they live carefully; they live in a small house; they are crowded. At last, by dint of hard work and careful management, enough money is accumulated to build the new home. This is the great event which has been thought about for so many years. The idea in building this house is invariably to get something as different from the old house as possible. It was square; the new building must be irregular. It had no front hall; the new house must have a large one. There were no grates in any of the rooms; in the new house there must be one in each. In the old building the rooms were very small; in the new house they must be very large. There was no porch before; now there must be one running across the front and along one side of the house. Altogether, the idea of the old house and that of the new are in direct opposition to each other. In one instance they were crowded; in the other they have plenty of room. There can be no doubt about the abundance of room. The building is finished; they move into it. Almost the first person to leave it is the servant whom they had in the old house. She sees the amount of work which she will have to do. It was easy enough to sweep the old house, with its small, compact plan. Housekeeping was relatively a small matter; but with the habits of economy, which rendered the new home possible, they will not employ additional help. The work which is left over by the servant falls to the mistress. Strange as it may appear under such circumstances, it takes the mistress a long time to find the cause of the trouble. It is the house. It was planned with an entire disregard for the work which was to be done. It had not been thought of. The idea was merely to get something which was different from the disagreeable features of the old home. They thought that everything would be easier and pleasanter and more agreeable in every way. The only trouble with the old home was that they were too much crowded. In the new they are not, but have an impossible amount of work to do every day. The difference between what they wish to do and what is done, is represented by fretfulness in addition to the natural weariness at the end of the day. What has this to do with architecture and economical house-building? Simply this. The house which is economically planned is economical as to money, carpets, sweeping, and strength. The architect may do a great deal for housekeepers by keeping this thought in mind. To recur to the idea of economical house-building in a direct sense, it may be borne in mind that economy and good construction go hand in hand; that none of the conditions of permanency are sacrificed for the sake of cheapness. Of two houses which cost the same, one may be far more convenient and roomy by an avoidance of waste space and unnecessary material. Evidently one flue-stack will cost less than four. Therefore, if a house can be constructed which has only one flue-stack, it will cost less than one which has four; but the demands of the housekeeper, and those who live in the house, are that the one stack afford the conveniences of four. People do not like compromises in house-building, especially when they are building a home. The compromises come easier when one is planning property for rental. Evidently a house in which one-fifth of the floor space is given up to halls is more expensive than one which contains a smaller proportion of such space. According as one is able to diminish the amount of passage room, and yet meet all of the conditions of good and economical house-keeping, he can reduce the cost of the house as to its building, its furnishing, and the amount of labor required in caring for it. Thus economy in construction, and convenience and ease in general housekeeping movements, go hand in hand. Parallel illustrations might be carried forward, so as to include each detail of the house. The architect may do a great deal for the housekeeper by making his mouldings and interior wood-work so that they will not catch dust, and can be readily cleaned. Some of our friends, who have studied the artistic qualities of house-building to the exclusion of all other considerations, will say that a regard for housekeeping requirements, in the matter of interior decorations and construction, is placing too great a limit upon their work. They will say that beauty and general artistic qualities are not always consonant with the means which will make easy housekeeping,--that they are limited by such considerations. This need not be so; it is simply a question of ingenuity and thoughtfulness. One may be careless of utility, and make very beautiful things. Another may be thoughtful and careful as to housekeeping requirements, and design something quite as beautiful and attractive as the former. In the above statements will be found the guiding principles which affect all of the work of this book. CHAPTER II. HOUSEKEEPING OPERATIONS.--THE WORK OF THE HOUSEKEEPER.--THE AVERAGE HOUSEWORK OF A WEEK.--THE ARCHITECT'S LESSON THEREFROM. With the architect a house has been too often considered as something to be looked at. No one is disposed to criticise an architect for making houses pretty and attractive. It is true, however, that many houses are nothing more than pretty; they are not convenient. They are not built with a regard to the requirements of housekeeping. A lady once said to the writer, that an architect would never live up to his opportunities until he had associated himself with a housekeeper, who would be strong enough, in her control over him, to see that the housekeeping conditions and conveniences were kept constantly in mind. In order fully to reach the housekeeping idea, it will be convenient to consider in detail what is meant by housekeeping. Primarily, a house is a place in which to eat and sleep. The present requirements of comfort and luxury suggest that all should not eat and sleep in the same room. Originally this was the case. The primitive man needed only a hut or a cave, or the protection of a rude shed. Later on, he was satisfied with a hut with one or two rooms. If the weather was cold, the occupants would huddle around the fire, and eat and sleep without regard to other surroundings. A bath in cold weather was unnecessary. During the summer this was regarded more as a matter of recreation than of necessity. A neighboring stream served the purpose of more modern arrangements. Housekeeping operations under such conditions were light indeed. There are many homes of this kind in America to-day. If we take the case of our Indians, we find that the squaws have time for much else than the absolute duties of camp-life and the care of children. There is much other labor which falls to their lot, house-work being regarded, as it is, insignificant. This is one extreme. There are various gradations which come with the instincts of a higher civilization. Education, and other conditions which go with it, increase housekeeping requirements, and thus far have not furnished to the majority compensating conditions in labor-saving devices. At the present time, the natural and affected requirements of housekeeping make the life of many a woman one of the extremest drudgery and hardship. Her condition is almost that of a slave; and this at a time when she is surrounded by many of the elements of a higher civilization. Her children and those around her frequently live under the shadow of her uncomfortable condition. The Indian's home, in the rest and peace which it affords, is often preferable. This condition is brought about by the increasing requirements upon the housekeeper, without the presence of other compensating conditions. Assuming that an architect may do something to make the care of a house lighter, it remains to call attention to the modern requirements of a housekeeper, with a view of simplifying her work. Let us watch her work for a week; we will begin on Monday morning during the month of January, and assume that there is one servant in the house to help,--bearing in mind, at the same time, that it often happens that the work which is here outlined is done by the housekeeper herself, with possibly only the help of a wash-woman. First, the house is to be warmed, the kitchen fire to be kindled, the living-rooms to be swept and dusted, the washing to be started, the children to be dressed, breakfast to be cooked and put on the table, and, in many cases, all of this done before seven o'clock. The serving of breakfast is no small task to the housekeeper. The coffee is to be poured, food prepared for the children, and many other things done which no man can specify. As soon as breakfast is over the men are out of the house, but not usually before making more than one demand upon the time of the housekeeper. Then the dishes are to be washed, and the children made ready and started to school. Next, the grocery and butcher supplies must be cared for. Possibly they are ordered from the boy who calls at the door. In some instances a trip for this purpose is required. Next, the dining-room must be arranged, the dishes put in place, the chamber-work attended to, beds made, children's things put away, sweeping done, slops disposed of, fires looked after. Some time or in some way the clothes worn by the children on Sunday must be especially looked after, stitches taken, a little darn here and there, and then put away. During this time there may be the demands of one or more babies to be met. In this there is no compromise. With the completion of other work dinner time is approaching, for, with the majority, this is a noon meal. The cooking must be done, and yet nothing else must be allowed to lag. The children in their confusion are home from school. Then dinner. Every one is in a hurry to get away. The children are sure they are going to be late. There is more work for them and the men, and then they are gone. Dinner dishes are washed, and the laundry work continues. The afternoon is little different from the morning; there is a little less rush and confusion, but a continuance of regular work. Before supper the evening supply of fuel must be provided. In the mean time the children are home from school with their demands. Now supper must be in mind. Where there are children in the house, this is one of the most trying times of the day. They are tired, hungry, and sleepy. Supper is over. The children go to bed at intervals during the evening. The men have a place by the fire. The housekeeper often feels it incumbent upon her to mend, darn, or sew, if no heavier work presents itself. Tuesday morning calls for a repetition of the former day's work, with ironing substituted for washing. There is the carrying-out of ashes and the bringing-in of coal, and the same routine during the day. On the part of the housekeeper regular sewing-work is taken up as opportunity presents, and possibly calls are made or received. Wednesday, the same. Thursday, the servant, if one is kept, is out for the afternoon. Other regular work must progress. Compromises are not thought of. Friday is general sweeping-day, in which everything is thoroughly gone over. The housekeeper must find time to go down street one or more times during the week, for the purpose of doing necessary shopping. Saturday brings its scrubbing and cleaning. During the week must come the window-washing, cleaning of silver, baking, and many things besides. Sunday is often the hardest day of all; the children require especial care. There is church in the morning, Sunday school in the afternoon, and, in many cases, church at night. In the mean while the children are on hand all the time. Where is the man who will say that his business life is as exacting or as harassing as the work which is here outlined? In the pages which follow it is the intention to bear the housekeeper and her requirements in mind, and to suggest what is properly due her in the way of labor-saving devices, with a view to facilitate the manifold operations of housekeeping. CHAPTER III. MODERN CONVENIENCES.--A LITTLE HISTORY.--PLANS THAT MAKE EXTRA WORK.--MODERN CONVENIENCES ENUMERATED. Most of the conveniences of housekeeping are modern. It is only within the past few years that the demands of the housekeeper for helps or aids in making her work easier were thought worth considering. Even now we occasionally meet men who think that anything that was good enough for their mothers is good enough for their wives. We have in mind a farmer who, during fifteen years, purchased three large farms. He buried a wife for every farm. Their death was the result of more than slavish work. The disposition which leads in this direction often continues after the time when economy does not demand close living. The man who moves west to a new country cannot pay for many of the modern conveniences. The demand for them is not great. Such a man usually builds a house of two or three rooms. The family cook and eat in the kitchen; they sit there between meals. The other rooms are for beds. There is not a great deal of house-work to be done in a house of this kind. The trouble comes when the pioneer becomes wealthier, and builds a large house "in town" or on the farm. Possibly his wife or daughters do the work as they did in the smaller house. If not, it is done by one servant. The work in this house is a great deal harder. There is a great deal more of it than there was in the two or three room house, which was built during their earlier life. In the former house, if they had coffee, it was poured from the pot in which it was made directly into the cups which were on the table. The meat was taken from the skillet in which it was cooked and put into the plates of those who ate it. If they had pancakes, the wife would sit with her back near the stove, where she could easily reach the griddle to grease it and turn the cakes while she was eating her meal. There was no formal dessert. The pie was eaten from the same plates as the rest of the food. There were no napkins; often, no tablecloth. It did not take long to wash the dishes after a meal of this kind--there were not many of them. In from fifteen to twenty-five minutes after the meal was over, the wife could be seen sitting by the kitchen stove, sewing or knitting. The pans and the kettles were out of the way, and the kitchen was turned into a sitting-room. If the weather was cold, the door into the bedroom was open; the whole house was warm and comfortable. Wood was plenty and cheap. This woman's troubles began when her husband, by dint of hard work and close economy, found himself in a position to gratify his pride in his accumulated wealth by building a new house. It was a big white house with green blinds. The stories were twelve or thirteen feet high; a large hall ran through the centre; the kitchen had nothing in it but doors and windows and a stove-hole; there was no sink, no conveniences of any kind. They now had a separate dining and sitting room, and an awful parlor with brussels carpet on it, which had red and green flowers all over it. The bedrooms were upstairs. They were all large; wood-work painted white. In the winter they were cold. The old habits of economy which made this house possible had so fixed themselves upon the occupants that they would not build a fire in the bedrooms. They said that they "didn't think it healthy to sleep in a warm room." People go to see Mrs. Green in her new house. They go through and look at it, and say, "Oh, how nice." But they find a tired woman. She doesn't sit down to sew or knit in a few minutes after the meal is over, as she used to. She is at work all the time. The children must have clothes to fit the house. There is more sweeping and dusting to do; there are more dishes to wash; there is more of everything to do. Still, she came into the new house expecting to find things different and easier than they were before. The modern conveniences are those arrangements and appliances which make it possible for people to live comfortably in a larger house, without seriously increasing the cares which they had in a smaller one. In the old house of two or three rooms the mother would bathe the children once a week in a tub by the kitchen fire. The tub would be dragged out the door, which was not very high above the ground, and the water emptied into the yard. In the new house it is different. The water is carried from the pump in the back yard, and from the kitchen stove, upstairs into one of the rooms. Then it has to be carried down again, emptied into the alley or the yard. The living habits are all changed without the compensating conveniences which naturally belong to them. It is probable that Mrs. Green keeps a "girl," but even then she has infinitely more work to do than ever belonged to the old home. She cannot understand it. She has a new house and a girl, and yet she is always tired. Most of the houses in the newer cities and towns are, in a measure, similar to this. Nearly every one attempts to live up to the mark set by those who have all of the appliances of modern housekeeping. Coal and water have to be carried all over the house. Slops and ashes have to be carried downstairs and out of the building. By attracting attention to the inconveniences of housekeeping, we may see and understand the full meaning of the term "modern conveniences." There is a natural call for dish-washing arrangements to take the place of the square table, with the dish-pan, the tea-kettle, and the water-bucket. In its place, we have at one side of the kitchen, a sink, with cocks for hot and cold water immediately over it. The tables and drain-board are arranged to simplify the operations of dish-washing. The water, instead of being carried to the yard or alley, finds its way naturally into the drain through the sink. Modern laundry arrangements make it unnecessary to carry great tubs of water outside, or to delay wash-day on account of the weather, or to bring in the frozen clothes during the cold winter days. The bath-room, with the tub, the water-closet, and the wash-stand, is on the second floor. This saves a great deal of work. The water does not have to be carried upstairs nor the slops down. There is hot and cold water within easy reach of all the rooms. Often it happens that there are stationary wash-stands in the various bedrooms, though this is only usual in the most expensive houses. The amount of work which a furnace saves is not readily estimated. It also saves money. Others of the modern conveniences are "places to put things;" large closets in the bedrooms, well supplied with drawers, shelves, and hooks; a general closet on the upper floor, which is accessible from all of the rooms, for bedding and other articles of common use; a ventilated closet in the bath-room, in which soiled linen may be put without contaminating the atmosphere. There should be a closet or place on the second floor for brooms, dust-pans, and dusters. Where there is no particular place for these articles, the housekeeper or the servant has to use time in searching, or in going up and down stairs. Anything which saves labor may be regarded as a modern convenience. CHAPTER IV. MODERN ARCHITECTS AND THE HOUSEKEEPER.--MISPLACED HOUSES.--OLD COLONIAL POVERTY IN MODERN COLONIAL HOUSES.--AFFECTATION IN DESIGN.--NATURAL DEVELOPMENT OF AMERICAN ARCHITECTURE.--AMERICAN ARCHITECTURE AND AMERICAN HOMES. No one ever heard of the matter of house-planning being discussed in a convention of architects. Their reports will show that a great many subjects are handled, but none so near home as this. Sometimes there is an effort to discover that America has a style of architecture peculiar to itself. When such a thing becomes true, the effort to find it will not be necessary. An American architecture will have its growth in American necessities, and not through the blind copying of foreign styles and architecture. Nor to have an American style does it necessarily mean that we should ignore foreign precedent. It means that we should consider foreign architecture intelligently. Everything that is good should be adopted, no matter whence it comes. Those of us who see what is going on in the architectural world frequently notice English houses designed and built for those who live in the cold Northwest. In many of them the broad, English casement windows and general style of architecture, which is suited to the gloomy light and the mild temperature of Great Britain, is placed in the bright, cold climate of the Northwest. Nothing could be more out of place; it is an affectation, an exhibition of bad taste and poor sense. The cold Northwest, with its bright, clear atmosphere, presents its own architectural conditions. The work of blind copyists, those who have so strong a regard for precedent, is ridiculous. In one of the Eastern magazines there was an illustration showing what purported to be an old colonial cottage, situated possibly at Newport. The architect had copied the old colonial details, the old colonial forms, which were very nice, but he had also copied an idea which had its outgrowth in extreme poverty. He had placed a rain barrel at the side of the house, and had set it up on a rustic-looking bench or support, all of which was very ridiculous. This had been done in an old colonial house, and had its origin in old colonial poverty. Now, this architect, in his respect for that which was past, copied the faults, the inconveniences, and arrangements which belonged to those earlier times. A course of this kind, carried out to its fullest extent, would lead us to barbarism. In the same magazine was another house which was designed with great respect for precedent. In it was a front door which was divided about half-way up, so that the lower part might be shut and the upper part opened. Houses have been seen where something of this kind was reasonable, where it had its advantages. There are many places in this country where a door of this kind is almost a necessity; but it isn't on the seashore. If one has a house in the country, or in a small country town, where the horses and pigs, geese, chickens, and other animals, are allowed to roam about in the front yards, a door of this kind has its uses. In the summer time the upper part can be thrown back and the lower part closed, so that the most a horse can do in the way of getting into the house is to stick his head over the top rail and look in. In the country mills doors of this kind have a very proper and apt name; they are called pig-doors. They keep the pigs off the mill floor, and, at the same time, allow the light and air to come from above. But there is no necessity for a pig-door at Newport or Long Branch, or other seaside resort. Their use is a silly affectation. There is no beauty in them. There is no convenience which would lead to their use. It is performances such as the above which retard the natural development of American architecture. American architecture will be simply carrying out, in an architectural way, the requirements of the American people in their buildings. From their homes the march of progress will be through the kitchens, pantries, and dining-rooms. It will unite with the parlor and sitting-room ideas, which have been more clearly worked out. The exterior will be formed in a natural way by the requirements of the interior, and by the variations of climate, and it will be decorated in a rational, artistic manner. We will not hamper the interior by the adoption of doors and windows which possibly belonged in a cathedral of the twelfth or thirteenth century, or the richer details of the later time, which had their special uses and forms as the development of the necessity and requirements of that particular period. The doors and windows of the nineteenth century should have their own special forms and positions. They should be decorated with a true regard for precedent so long as precedent does not influence the arrangements suited to modern times. The American style of architecture will not be developed through grand public buildings and enormous cathedrals, or expensive dwellings. In this country every one is imbued with the idea of having a home of his own, and he desires to have it nice, convenient, and attractive. The average home is in a small, inexpensive house. The proper construction of these buildings, their arrangement with reference to their housekeeping requirements, their tasteful external designs considered in a rational way, will develop American architecture. It will be the expression of American wants in a natural, artistic spirit. A JOURNEY THROUGH THE HOUSE. CHAPTER V. JOURNEY THROUGH THE HOUSE.--PORCH.--VESTIBULE.--HALL.--LONG HALLS AND SQUARE HALLS.--THE HALL THAT IS A ROOM.--RECEPTION HALL.--PARLOR.--SITTING-ROOM.--DINING-ROOM. In this section of the book we will make a journey through the house, stopping at various points of interest long enough to give general consideration to the details. From the principles herein derived, the plans subsequently given are constructed. Every house should have a front porch. It should be wide,--if possible, eight feet, that one may sit at a distance from the railing and afford a space for others to pass behind. The porch is a protection to the front part of the house from the sun, wind, and, partially, from the cold. Nothing can be pleasanter than to sit on a shady porch during the warm part of the day or in the evening. It is an auxiliary to the vestibule. The front door should be wide--three or three and a half feet. Double doors look very nice from the outside, but they are not as convenient or as easily handled as the single door. The door-bell should be at the right-hand side. The threshold should be elevated from three to six and a half inches above the porch floor. VESTIBULE. In the plans that are given, various arrangements of vestibules are shown. In a few instances, direct entrances into the hall and reception-room are indicated, but such an entrance is not as desirable as where there is a vestibule. The arrangement of a vestibule for hat-rack, umbrella-stand, and other conveniences, changes the hall into an available room. Take, for instance, plan No. 16, page 153. At the right, as one enters, is a little closet; in it are hooks. At one side is an umbrella-stand; on the floor is a place for overshoes. Here one may arrange himself before going into the hall or reception-room. This is altogether better than having to pass across to one side of the hall or room, in order to find a place to deposit overshoes, wraps, umbrellas, etc. It saves work. If this vestibule have a hard-wood floor, and on it is placed a rug, one may stand there and divest himself of that which he would not carry into the house, and go into the room in good order, leaving the muddy overshoes, and the possible dampness of his umbrella and overcoat, behind him. This arrangement saves work; mud is not carried into the room. It is a very simple matter to care for the vestibule; the rug on the floor may be taken to the outside, and the deposit of mud and dust readily removed. It is well to have a small mirror at the side, or in the rack. The plan mentioned is merely suggestive, and does not apply to all houses. By looking through the plans given, various arrangements may be seen. In some of them there is no vestibule. Not all housekeepers want the same arrangement. Again, others do not care to pay for a vestibule. In other instances, the hall is too small to admit of one. As said before, a good vestibule changes the hall into a room. It makes a reception-hall tolerable, because it is not necessary to deposit there many things which should have another location. A vestibule does not properly serve its purpose where there is no room or arrangement for depositing wraps, etc. The closet part of the vestibule, shown in the cut, can, perhaps, be omitted, and hooks arranged around the wall sides. A curtain could be hung across the space occupied by the closet door: however, all these details are matters of taste and disposition. In the opening between the hall and vestibule may be placed tapestry curtains; these are sufficient storm protectors from the outside door, especially if the hall register is placed near it. No one who has not tried it, can realize the amount of protection from the weather that is afforded by a heavy curtain. It is not necessary or desirable that a door be placed in the opening from the vestibule to the hall. HALL. This part of the house may be hall, reception-hall, or room. It is a hall or passage frequently, and not provided with a vestibule. It may be a hall from its shape; it may be a room for the same reason. It may be of no use as a room, if the stairway is improperly placed. The house arranged with a long, narrow hall, having the stairway at the side, is essentially wasteful of room. Such hall space is usually dark and gloomy as well as crowded. A hall eight feet wide and twenty feet long, contains one hundred and sixty square feet of floor-surface, though only a limited portion of it is available, on account of the shape of the space which remains after the stairway is placed. A hall twelve by thirteen feet contains one hundred and fifty-six square feet, but a great deal more available room. The space not occupied by the stairway is in better shape. A hall of this shape partakes of the nature of a room, and may be used as such. In the plan referred to a window-seat is shown. This window-seat may be used as a seat in warm weather, and, if the front is in the proper direction, as a conservatory in the winter. There are many such arrangements as this shown in the book. The hall, in most of the plans, is a key to the whole arrangement. It has been a common, objectionable practice during the past few years to build houses of moderate cost, so that the hall is along one side with its entrance to the front, and the parlor next to it; back of the parlor is the sitting-room, and the hall opens into the dining-room; back of the dining-room is the kitchen, and so on to the extreme rear with summer-kitchen, pantry, etc. This makes a long house with only one room in front on the first floor, and one chamber and alcove facing the street on the second. Thus the hall serves only as a passage-way. The living-room has no front view. To obviate this, the halls in the plans, that are considered with most favor, are arranged to be used as rooms, and the vestibules are built so that such a thing is possible. If the hall is to be used as a vestibule, the hat-rack and other arrangements for hanging wraps, and the umbrella-stand, etc., are placed as near the front as possible. Where this is not done there must necessarily be a track from the front to the back, as a mark of travel. The stairway may start at one side, and should lead towards the centre of the house. The nearer it can be started to the rear of the hall, the better; this gives more room in front. Sometimes the stairway is started immediately in the rear of the reception-hall, or from an alcove space at one side; these are good arrangements, depending, of course, upon other conditions. Upon one side, or in the rear, should be placed a grate. Nothing can be pleasanter when coming in from a disagreeable outside than an open-grate fire; this needs no argument. Under the stairway, or in some convenient nook, it is well to have a lavatory. The hall should be arranged as a centre from which to pass to the parlor, living-room, and dining-room. It is important to consider in this connection that the hall, and the stairway in it, should be placed so that the stair-landing above is in the centre of the house. Thus we have in the centre of the building only a small hall as a starting-point; hence less waste room. When the stairway lands near the front wall on the second floor, a passage must be provided to the rear of the house. Where the landing is in the centre, we have only to pass into rooms without extra steps through long halls. For example, see plan No. 1, page 110. Not every one cares to use the front hall as a reception-room. There is certainly no objection to naming and using it otherwise. RECEPTION-HALL, PARLOR, AND SITTING-ROOM. During recent years there is more of a disposition to live all over the house; one reason for this is the improved heating arrangements. The terms sitting-room, parlor, reception-room, mean less in a distinctive sense, and are used largely for the purpose of classification. We will consider the parlor and the sitting-room in the same connection. The parlor has lost the awful stiffness of times past. It is now a reception-room. In a house where there is a reception-hall in front, and the sitting-room to one side, both having a distinct front view, as is shown in many of the plans, a lady may occupy the front room and have her children and work around her, if desirable. A caller may be received in the reception-room; these, however, are matters of individual preference. The vestibule may be planned so that it will have an entrance to both reception-room and sitting-room. In some instances the arrangement of sitting-room and reception-hall are reversed. The hall is the sitting-room, and the other room the parlor. If doors are used between hall and sitting-room, they should be sliding; the effect is better, and the separation of the rooms as complete as necessary. Such doors should always be hung from the top. The sitting-room should certainly be as good a room as any in the house; as well located. There should be a closet on the first floor, and, if possible, it should communicate with this room; if not that, with the dining-room or reception-hall next to it. Certainly the sitting-room should always be provided with a grate. A window-seat in the hall, parlor, reception, or other room, is really a great addition in more ways than one. It is not only attractive, but it adds to the availability of a room. Where there is space for three or four people to sit, in case of necessity, it is like seating that number of people outside of the room. They are comfortable, and the room has that much added to its seating capacity. A bay window arranged in this way is pleasant indeed. Wall space is of great importance in these rooms. In planning a house, the piano, pictures, lounges, book-shelves, book-cases, bric-à-brac, etc., should be in mind. In a house of moderate size, it is, ordinarily, not necessary that the reception-hall, parlor, or sitting-room should be wider than thirteen and a half feet, and from fifteen to eighteen feet in length. However, this is not wide enough for those who entertain largely. A room thirteen and a half feet, with much furniture in it, is not wide enough for dancing. A house arranged with a reception-hall, parlor, sitting-room, dining-room, etc., is used when it is desired to entertain a great deal; but for those who are living economically, whose means are limited, one of these rooms may be omitted. In many of the modern houses the number of rooms on the first floor has been decreased and their size increased. Oftentimes there is a reception-hall, a small library, and a dining-room only, as belonging to the living part of the house on the first floor. An arrangement of this kind belongs more particularly to a house which is occupied during only a part of the year; say as summer cottages in the North, and winter houses in the South. Modern ways of living make a larger number of rooms less desirable. When it is possible, it is pleasant to have a little room off from the library as a study, or for a doctor as a reception-room or office. Where one does work at home, it is advantageous to have a private room that insures isolation, be it never so small. Often the library, so called in an ordinary sense, is not a library at all. There may be a few books in it, but it is used as a sitting-room or passage, and has no distinct necessity or use. Additional rooms require more work than the same amount of floor space in a less number of rooms. The addition of rooms multiplies corners, windows, doors, etc., and adds more cost and labor, than does mere additional space. The availability of a room is not always dependent upon its size. A good deal depends upon the arrangement of wall space. A room may be large and still have no room for the furniture that is to go into it. It may be small and still have room enough. DINING-ROOM. A good width for a dining-room is thirteen feet. Where one can afford it, it should be from fifteen to twenty feet in length; larger than this is a luxury. Its location, for the most part, is back of the sitting-room or hall. A grate in the dining-room is not altogether desirable; it is always at somebody's back. Again, a grate does not heat a room uniformly. It is very common to provide sliding-doors to connect the dining-room with other parts of the house, even with the parlor; but they are not the best kind to use. Sound and the odors of the food are more readily communicated through sliding-doors than others. For that reason they should not be used. A large, single door, three and a half feet wide, is preferable, though it does not always give the desired opening. Generally speaking, it is easier to provide wall space when planning a dining-room than in any of the other rooms in the house. A large number of windows is not necessary, and one of them can be placed high, and thus afford space for a sideboard. This sideboard should be placed at the end of the room nearest the entrance to the kitchen and china-closet, where such is used. The sideboard has various uses, according to the plans of the housekeeper. In some cases it is merely a place to display dainty china and other table furniture. Below are places for linen and table cutlery. In other cases, the sideboard is used as a buffet; as a place from which to serve the food. Sometimes this is carried to the extremest degree, and includes the carving, and the serving of that which goes with the meats. It was very common in times past to use a slide connecting kitchen and dining-room. A passage is much better. The slide is worse than a door in communicating sounds and odors. In some of the plans in this book, doors are shown opening directly into the kitchen. This is done under protest; the owner of the house would have it so. The sideboard may be built as a part of the house. This is well enough when the question of cost is not important. From the dining-room we will pass to the kitchen. CHAPTER VI. KITCHENS.--THE KITCHEN A WORKSHOP.--WORK TO BE DONE IN A KITCHEN.--A PLAN.--FITTINGS.--DISH-WASHING CONVENIENCES.--SINK AND TABLES.--CHINA-CLOSET.--PANTRY.--COMBINATION PANTRY.--PANTRY FITTINGS.--WORK IN A PANTRY.--A DOUGH-BOARD.--FLOUR-BIN.--PANTRY STORES.--CUPBOARD.--REFRIGERATOR ARRANGEMENTS.--PANTRY UTENSILS.--A DRY-BOX.--SOAP-BOX.--VENTILATION OF KITCHEN.--GENERAL PRINCIPLES OF KITCHEN PLANNING. The kitchen existed in its state of greatest cleanliness and order a good many years ago in New England, where it was largely used as a sitting and dining room. As people became more prosperous, they moved out of the kitchen; they had a separate sitting-room. It was then that the kitchen began to decline. After this it was often literally as well as figuratively separated from the living part of the house. The public has not suffered through lack of information on cookery and general housekeeping topics. Little has been said, however, about the house itself, with regard to its arrangements for facilitating the manifold operations of housekeeping. The subject is a broad one, and may be treated with some respect to detail. As the heart of the house, the kitchen may be given serious consideration. In the modern house the kitchen is merely the place where the food is prepared for the table. The controlling idea and its arrangements should be to afford facilities for doing the work with as little labor as possible. The kitchen is the workshop of the house. It should be arranged and planned according to the same general principles as any other workshop. A manufacturer arranges his foundry, his mill, or his printing-house, with reference to the saving of labor, for the purpose of saving money. When we save labor in a kitchen, we save the energy of the housekeeper, and, possibly, money. An article on this subject was probably never written that did not pretend to describe the "model kitchen." It is safe to say that no such kitchen was regarded as "model" by all readers. A model kitchen is something which is out of reason. No two housekeepers have the same requirements. Housekeeping practice varies greatly. Again, the kitchen that can be built to one floor-plan cannot be built to another. In describing a kitchen, it is in mind to set forth certain general principles for the benefit of those interested. There is little difference between the requirements of a kitchen for a house of moderate cost and an expensive house. Work of the same general character is done in every kitchen. The conveniences are more a matter of thought than of money. Elaborate details add much to the cost, but little to the convenience. There is little or no difference between the cost of a well-planned kitchen and one which is poorly planned. To state the case broadly, a kitchen should be arranged solely with reference to the work which is to be done in it: the cooking, dish-washing, the care of the kitchen itself, and possibly the laundry work. This latter work should be removed from the kitchen--in any event, the washing should be done elsewhere--when it is at all possible. The steam and odor from the washing, which not only fill the kitchen but permeate the house, are enough to render whatever food there is in the kitchen unfit for use. It is altogether possible to arrange in the cellar of any house that is being built, and in many that are already built, at a trifling cost, a laundry in which the washing and ironing may be comfortably done. Of course this does not contemplate set tubs; but set tubs are not found in houses where the washing and ironing are done in the kitchen, and it is possible to do this work both well and easily without their use. There is little or no objection to doing the ironing in a well-ventilated kitchen. It is clean work, and while doing it the servant may attend to any cooking which is necessary, and see that the other work of the house moves forward. [Illustration: Fig. 2.] The kitchen the plan of which is here given (Fig. 2) has been in use for three years under the varying conditions of one or two servants, and at times none at all. These are the conditions under which most housekeepers operate. There have been no emergencies in which the kitchen and pantries have not proven themselves ample, and none in which the housekeeper thought that they were too large and complicated. It is as necessary in houses where the means for maintenance is simply moderate, that a kitchen should not be too large as that it should afford ample facilities for accomplishing any work which may be done. The kitchen itself is thirteen and one-half by fourteen and one-half feet. In it are placed the range, tables, sink, drain-board, etc., and the kitchen safe. The room has been found large enough for the work which is to be done there, and not so large that the tables, range, and safe are so far apart that time and strength are wasted moving from one to another. The kitchen has one large window in it, which is three feet from the floor. This permits the placing of a table, ironing-board, or chair under it, and thus gives additional wall space. There are two windows in the pantry, and a draught is secured through them, the kitchen window, and the transom over the door. The door is glazed. The most disagreeable work of a kitchen, and that which takes much time, is the dish-washing. It is possible to make this work lighter and pleasanter than is usual. The necessary conditions are plenty of water, hot and cold, a place where the dishes will drain themselves, an abundance of table room for them both before and after washing. In the kitchen given the sink is placed next the kitchen flue. This gives a place for the pipe duct next the warm bricks, which prevent freezing even in severe cold weather. During the three years in which this kitchen has been in use they have never frozen, even when the temperature was twenty degrees below zero. The exact construction of this kitchen pipe-duct and other kitchen wood-work is given elsewhere. The range, which is usually next the flue, is, in this instance, placed at some distance from it. There is no reason why this should not be done, as it has been in many instances, with no disagreeable results. The sink is not enclosed, but stands upon legs. Enclosed sinks are places which cannot be kept clean even with the utmost vigilance. The brushes, scrub-rags, and buckets, which are usually kept there, are in this kitchen provided a place elsewhere. [Illustration: Fig. 3.] At the left of the sink is a table; at the right, a drain-board, which is inclined toward the sink, and provided with grooves. At the right of this is a swing-table on the same level. The soiled dishes are placed on the table at the left, washed in the sink, which is provided with cocks for hot and cold water, drained on the drain-board, and, when wiped, placed on the table at the right. A glance at the plan will show that they are then beside the door which leads to the china-closet, and may be quickly placed where they belong. It may be well to say a few words about the china-closet. The shelves are placed in a passage which leads from the kitchen to the dining-room, and are separated from the passage by doors. This passage is lighted by a window, and has two doors leading into it--one from the dining-room, and one from the kitchen (Fig. 2). These doors are swung on double swinging hinges, so that they may be opened by merely pushing against them, and will then swing back noiselessly into a closed position. One may pass through doors of this kind with a tray full of dishes without touching them with the hand. This arrangement dispenses with the necessity for a slide, and also does away with the noises and odors from the kitchen, which so readily find their way to the rest of the house where a slide is used. However, if a slide is really desired, it can be placed over either the table at the left of the sink or over the swing-table at the right, and be convenient from both kitchen and dining-room. The china-pantry could be readily enlarged into a butler's pantry, by extending it across the end of the dining-room, and placing the end window of this room on one side, thus bringing two windows on the same wall. There is a movable shelf under one of the permanent shelves in this china-closet, which can be drawn out in order to place a tray of dishes on it while they are being put away, and which can be pushed out of the way when not in use. This shelf is also of service as a place upon which to arrange the different dishes needed for the several courses of a meal, and in this way facilitates the table service. In Fig. 4, the combination idea is carried out in pantry and china-closet. The pantry-cupboard projects into the room in a way to form a partition between the pantry and china-closet, and, at the same time, admits of a passage between the kitchen and dining-room with a separation of two doors. Fig. 5 indicates an approved form of construction of china-closet and pantry, such as may be used in most of the pantries and china-rooms which are in this book. [Illustration: Fig. 4.] The work which takes the most time is the preparation of food, and every well-planned kitchen has its arrangements for lightening this burden. The first consideration is the location of the utensils, and the table and sink where the meats and vegetables are prepared. All should be near enough to the range so that there are no unnecessary steps to be taken. The number that are taken where the sink is in one corner of the kitchen, the table in another, and the range removed from both, is innumerable. In this kitchen the table proper and the sink are together, and they are but a step from the range. There is a small swing-table attached to the wall at one side of the range. This provides a place for utensils, such as spoons, and forks, and dishes, such as those holding pancake batter, which are in constant use during cooking, and which cannot be held in the hand while the cooking is in progress. This alone saves many steps. The drain-board is a good place for draining vegetables, and to place utensils which are used in the preparation of food. Above the sink are hooks, etc., upon which to keep small utensils. In localities where there is much dust coming in from the outside these utensils must be kept elsewhere, behind closed doors. [Illustration: Fig. 5.] For the preparation of bread, cake, pastries, etc., the pantry is provided. In it are places for everything which can be used for such preparation. One can go out of the heat and noise of the kitchen into a little room which holds everything that can possibly be needed, and there prepare those articles of food which take the most time and careful attention. In Fig. 2 are two windows; under one is the dough-board. This is a table fastened to the wall at a convenient height for moulding and general work of this character. On one end is a piece of marble, twelve inches wide by sixteen long, which is used for moulding purposes. The advantages of such a piece of marble are numerous. It is as easily cleaned as a dish and requires no scouring, and, as dough does not readily stick to it, moulding can be done without the trouble which comes from the use of a board. This piece of marble is not fastened to the dough-board, as is sometimes done. Where it is set into the board there will always be creases in which dough will lodge, and it can only be cleaned with the greatest trouble. Where it is free, it can be raised from the board occasionally, and everything thoroughly cleaned. At the right of the board is the flour-bin, which contains places for various kinds of flour and meal. Next to it is the refrigerator. Over the refrigerator is a window which opens on the porch, and through which the ice may be placed without the iceman going through the kitchen with his wet feet and dripping load. At the left of the dough-board are shelves for keeping stores. The lower shelves are enclosed by doors and provided with a lock, so that extra stores may be placed there for safe keeping, where this is found desirable. The upper shelves are exposed. On them are kept sugar, tea, coffee, baking-powder, and kindred stores, which are in every-day use, and can be reached easier if there are no doors to be opened and closed. They should be kept in air-tight cans, which prevent their exposure to dust, insects, and air. Back of the door opening into the kitchen are hooks for the utensils which more properly belong in the pantry than the kitchen. Many housekeepers prefer to keep the refrigerator in the cellar, on account of the waste in the ice. This waste, to the mind of the writer, is a small matter. The time spent by either housekeeper or servant in going into the cellar could much better be occupied in doing something else which would save more than does keeping the refrigerator below. Then, again, when it is kept in the pantry it can readily be provided with a zinc drain to the outside, which saves some little labor. In the cellar such a drain would only be possible where sand could be reached. A refrigerator should never, under any circumstances, be drained into the sewer, as is sometimes done. The utensils which properly belong to the kitchen are kept in an old-fashioned kitchen safe, rather than in a closet opening out from the kitchen. A safe is more readily cleaned than a closet, and the perforated metal doors render the upper part of it an excellent place for storing cold food, which it is not desirable to keep in the refrigerator. Then if, as may happen in any kitchen which is left to the care of servants, vermin should take possession, the safe can be moved from the room, and trouble from this source avoided. The entrance to the cellar is near the table, as marked. At the head of the cellar are placed brooms, mops, and dust-pans, and above these, well away from the head when going below, is a shelf upon which two buckets can be placed. Back of the range is a small wooden box, thirty inches long by twenty-two inches wide and twelve inches deep, which is provided with a door and shelves. These shelves, as well as the top and bottom, have holes bored through them in order to allow the passage of hot air. In this box scrubbing-rags and brushes dry at once, and never have a bad odor. The box is of the same wood as the other kitchen finish, and looks as if it were a part of it. A soap-box, with construction similar to the above, may be provided. It should have a tin-pipe connection with flue or other ventilating apparatus. It will dry the soap and render its use less wasteful. The ventilation of the kitchen is an important matter. The ideal kitchen has no rooms over it, and has ventilators in the ceiling. But this is not possible in most houses, and a substitute must be provided. An inverted sheet-iron hopper placed over the range, with an opening into either the flue or the outside of the house, will carry out the odors from cooking. An opening into the pipe-duct which holds the plumbing pipes will keep them from freezing in cold weather at the same time that it helps ventilate. An important consideration in a kitchen is to build it so that it will not readily accumulate dirt, and can be easily cleaned. A large amount of time is spent in every well-kept house in cleaning the kitchen. The floor should be of oak, maple, or other hard wood, oiled, waxed, or finished with regular floor-finishing. The casings and doors are, of course, kept in better condition, with less labor, when of hard wood. Where this is not attainable, poplar, or other similar wood, finished with a varnish which will stand warm water, will prove a very good substitute. The tables should be either of oak, which requires little scrubbing, or poplar, which is so easily scrubbed that it is always white enough to delight the heart of the most particular housekeeper. A kitchen finished in this way is much less care than when the floor is of soft wood, and the finish a soft wood painted. All kitchens in this book are planned according to the principles here set forth. They do not pretend to be exactly like this one, but the same general principle runs through all. There are very good reasons why wainscoting should not be used in a kitchen, and no compensating advantages. The bead-joints and extra wood-work thereof make labor in the impossible task of keeping it clean. The less wood-work there is in a kitchen, the better. There are various kind of water-proof proprietary plaster finishes which may be used in finishing the walls and ceiling of a kitchen. Where they are not used, a white skim coat should be put on and painted after about a year's use. CHAPTER VII. CELLAR.--FUEL DEPARTMENTS.--FURNACE CONVENIENCES.--COAL-BINS.--CEMENT FLOORS.--LIGHT IN THE CELLAR.--A CELLAR-CLOSET.--OUTSIDE CELLAR-DOOR. The cellar was originally a hole in the ground. In the modern house, that is arranged to please the house-keeper, it is well lighted; provided with a smooth cement floor that is easily cleaned; is not open as one room, but has apartments--one for a laundry, another for fuel and furnace, and still others for fruits and general stores. In the matter of fuel there is no reason why the entire winter supply should not be in the basement. It is certainly a great deal worse to go outside of the house in winter time from a hot, steaming kitchen, than it is to go into the basement for the fuel. However, there is some objection to storing wood in the cellar, for the reason that it brings bugs, ants, and vermin into the house. Coal-bins should be constructed with hopper bottoms,--with bottom and sides slanting from level of outside grade-line to cellar floor,--where the location will admit of it. When there is not a cellar under all of the house, it is generally possible to arrange the coal-bin under the part without cellar, and slanting down to the part so used. This is illustrated in plan No. 11, Chapter XX. There the coal is put through the windows into the bins, and slides down to the opening in cellar. For each shovelful of coal taken away from the lower opening, another will take its place. This is particularly true with crushed coke, or anthracite coal, or nut and egg sizes of other fuel. The lump sizes require a larger opening than the usual twenty-inch-square opening for the coal mentioned. These bins should be lined on the bottom preferably with bricks laid in cement. If this is not used, two-inch oak boards will do. Partitions of the same material should be used to separate the various bins. With an arrangement of this kind a large amount of storage capacity can be provided. Under some circumstances this plan cannot be adopted. In such a case the ordinary bins may be used. As houses are now planned, the first tier of joists are placed from twenty to twenty-four inches above the grade-line. Where it is not possible to secure that height for cellar-windows, areas may be built of brick or stone, and additional light provided. Light is the enemy of disorder and uncleanliness; where there is exposure there will be less disorder. It is not necessary to have the cellar under the whole house, for reasons as mentioned, and on account of the cost. It is sometimes important that savings of all kinds be made. The furnace may be set in a pit with its face directed to the cellar. It is best that the opening from the hoppered coal-bins, above described, be close to the furnace. If it can be opened at the side, so that one can stand in the pit and throw coal in the fire-box, it is better than any other arrangement. The ordinary cellar is seven feet in the clear, and, for this reason, it is nearly always necessary to pit the furnace. This is done by digging an extra depth, and lining the area and opening with brick. Near enough to the furnace to be warm, should be a closet for canned fruit, made of flooring-boards, if not of more substantial material, and provided with a door and lock. It should be shelved with board about seven inches apart. Other winter stores, like potatoes, cabbage, etc., should be kept in a dark cellar with an earth floor. It is the opinion of farmers and others that vegetables keep best when lying next the ground. The cellar-involving arrangements here outlined may be seen in plan No. 11. The outside door, which leads into the cellar, should bolt on the inside, and the upper cellar door on the outside. There should be doors provided to separate the different rooms. Where cost is an item, they may be made of two thicknesses of flooring. Cellar-windows should be hung on hinges, and provided with bolt fastenings; catches are not secure. CHAPTER VIII. A LOW-COST LAUNDRY.--BLUE MONDAY.--BASEMENT LAUNDRY.--LOW-COST CONVENIENCES.--INEXPENSIVE LAUNDRY FITTINGS.--HOT AND COLD WATER ARRANGEMENTS.--A LABOR-SAVING LAUNDRY.--A PLACE TO DO FRUIT-CANNING. The term "Blue Monday" probably originated on account of its being general wash-day, and a day in which everybody about the house undertook to do an impossible amount of work with limited resources. Most of the washings in this country are done in the kitchen. The wash-boiler is on the stove, and the servant or mistress of the house, or both, attempt to wash and do their cooking without seriously disturbing the routine of meals. There is a fussiness about everything pertaining to that day, which creates an atmosphere of blueness which is proverbial. The steamy, crowded kitchen, the almost inevitable wetness or slipperiness, the great physical exertion required, the carrying of water, the lifting of tubs, are all uncomfortable, and the work is done at a great disadvantage. In an expensive house, where there is plenty of money, Monday is not so blue. Immunity is purchased. Possibly the clothes are sent from the house to be washed in somebody else's kitchen; maybe to be worn by some one else before they are returned, and often to be injured or destroyed by the strong washing-mixtures and soaps, which are made to save rubbing. This kind of immunity is expensive. It is too expensive for the large majority of people. It is annoying to all alike. Laundry work will sometime be done at a cost which will admit of people of moderate means having this work done at a public laundry. At present, the general laundry work of an ordinary household cannot be done in this way, on account of the expense. The general public laundry, where arrangements are made to do the entire family washing at a low cost, is a complete solution of the Blue-Monday problem; but until the laundry is an accomplished fact, such work will be done at home, and a family laundry must be considered in house-building. It would be a very easy matter to arrange a laundry which would meet all the desired conditions, if we were to operate independent of cost, but the large majority of people are not independent in this way. If it were not a matter of cost, we would have an independent room for the laundry work, with porcelain tubs, and hot and cold water running into all of them; we could have a steam-drier, and many other things, which it is useless to mention here. It is the laundry of the moderate-cost house which interests the largest number of people. We must have a place to do laundry work which is a compromise between the foggy kitchen and the laundry with porcelain tubs. As houses are now built, the first floor is usually from two and a half to three feet above the grade. This affords abundant opportunity of getting a well-lighted basement. If the basement is dark, put more windows in it, and whitewash the walls and ceilings. Cement the floor. Put in a slop sink, and give it a trapped connection with the vault or sewer. Provide a pump over this sink to connect with the cistern. If the city water is soft, this will be used and no pump will be required. Then a laundry stove is to be provided. Thus we have everything ready for use without much labor, and certainly at a very low cost. The basement should be light under any circumstances. The floor should be cemented, the joists should be whitewashed, so that the only additions necessary to make the laundry work easy are a laundry stove, a place to throw waste water, and a supply of hot and cold water. If one does not care to heat the water in the ordinary boiler, there is a very simple device for heating water which may be placed in any laundry. An open tank, which will hold two or three barrels of water, can be placed over the stove and next to the joist. From it a connection can be made with the laundry stove by means of lead and iron pipe. This pipe should start from the bottom of the tank and connect with an iron pipe which enters the stove, and passes around the inside of the fire-pot, then to the outside and connects with another lead pipe, which empties into the tank again on a level above the first opening. Thus the cold water would come from the bottom of the tank, through the stove where it would be heated, thence upward and into the tank. This would give a hot-water circulating connection, and in this way provide hot water for use in the laundry. This arrangement would require a low-cost force-pump to force the water to the tank. There are many kinds of these pumps, which are substantial and can be secured at a low cost. The pipe from the stove could be supplied with a compression cock from which the water could be drawn into the tubs. The better way would be to have an independent tank connection. Lead pipe was mentioned as being the pipe to use in making the connection with the iron pipe in the laundry stove. Galvanized iron pipe would answer every purpose and cost a little less. Where set tubs are not used, the water could be readily distributed by means of a hose pipe. If the above arrangement is too expensive, the stove only can be used for heating water. Set tubs might be used instead of the ordinary wooden ones which were contemplated, and would save a good deal of labor, but the cost is something which all cannot afford. The arrangement described here can be reached by nearly every one of moderate means. It provides a place to throw slop water, and brings hot and cold water close at hand. It isolates the washing from the cooking, and the smell of washing from the whole house. It is very different from the conditions in most houses, where the water has to be carried from the backyard into the house, lifted to the stove, poured into the tubs, and afterward carried out, a bucket at a time, and emptied over the back fence, if the tub is not dragged out and emptied into the yard. It is well in building a new house to have an outside cellar-way to facilitate the use of the laundry below. In such a case the clothes can be carried into the yard without being taken through the kitchen. There will be times when the weather will not permit taking the clothes outdoors. In very cold weather it should never be done. It is murderous for a woman to have to carry clothes from a hot, steamy laundry or kitchen at eighty degrees to the cold, dry air of the outside. There is no woman so strong that she can stand this. All the clothes can be readily dried in the basement. Here is presented another argument in favor of the laundry below. The washing can always be done at the appointed time in spite of the weather. When one goes into a large attic he is apt to say, "What a splendid place to dry clothes." People who dry clothes in the attic usually do the washing in the kitchen. A basement laundry is a cool place in summer and a warm one in winter. There is no better place for ironing in warm weather, for even with a fire the basement is always cool. Nor can there be a better place for canning fruit. The conveniences of plenty of water, a fire, and yet a cool place for doing this extremely laborious work, will be readily appreciated. CHAPTER IX. THE SECOND FLOOR.--STAIRWAYS.--THE COMBINATION STAIRWAY.--IDEAL NUMBER OF BEDROOMS.--LARGE CLOSETS AND PLENTY OF THEM.--A LINEN-CLOSET.--PLACING OF GAS-FIXTURES.--SERVANT'S ROOM.--BATH-ROOM.--AN ATTIC.--ATTIC CLOSETS.--ATTIC ROOMS. In many houses a combination stairway is used. By this is meant one in which the front and rear stairways run together in a common landing. In this case, there should be doors separating the rear from the front stairway, one at the beginning, and one at the end of the rear part. The combination stairway is a compromise. Oftentimes, however, one can secure other things which are desirable by its use. There are other compromises more objectionable than the combination stairway. A stairway of this kind is not used as the most desirable thing, but as the least objectionable of other compromises; for instance, if one can secure, for a given cost, an additional room or two by using a combination stairway, the room is frequently preferable. No one can doubt but that a front stairway, entirely separated from the one in the rear, is the best thing to have; however, it is easy to understand that a combination stairway may be used for reasons above stated. In some of the plans a stairway is shown, starting from a stair-hall in the rear of reception-hall or room. Under such circumstances, a combination is not necessary. One can come from the kitchen and go upstairs without being observed from the other parts of the house. Again, combinations are sometimes used so that they apply to the servant's room as a continuous stairway, and as a combination to the other parts of the house. This is true of several plans given. It is almost superfluous to say that a stairway should be easy, still it is known that not all are so. The one in the front part of the building should always be made without winders; that in the rear, the same way if possible. Landings are preferable, and make a staircase beautiful. Stairways may be considered from a hygienic standpoint. This, however, is not necessary in this connection. Where there is only one stairway, it is not uncommon to have it start from the dining-room, and, if one stops to think about it, this is not a bad arrangement. The dining-room is centrally located, and the stairway may be used by the servants when this room is not otherwise in use. Certainly it is less objectionable than placing it in a hall through which all have to pass, or where it is necessary to pass through other rooms to reach the second floor from the rear. A combination stairway, or one that starts up from the dining-room, is less objectionable in a house where there is a bath-room on the second floor than it would otherwise be. Where the bath-room is so placed, it is not necessary that the slops be carried down or the water carried up stairs; and, in other respects, it is less necessary to use the stairway in a disagreeable way. The rear stairway should be connected with the front part of the house by means of a hall on the second floor. It is generally found desirable to have a girl's room near the rear stairway, and to cut off that part of the house from the front by means of a door. There should be means of lighting, artificial and otherwise, at the beginning and landings of all stairways. In a young and growing family, five is the ideal number of rooms for the second floor. This number may be increased or decreased according to the size and development of the family. Where there are five rooms it affords, first, a family room in front, built over the parlor or sitting-room; next to that is a room in front for the very young children, and afterwards for the girls; then the room in the rear of the family room may be for the boys; the fourth room for guests, and the fifth for the servant. The guest-room view is to the side and the rear. There are cases where one must accommodate a large number of people with a smaller number of rooms, and, again, a larger number of rooms is thought indispensable. In connection with the size of bedrooms, we may say what was said before,--that their availability does not depend entirely upon their size. A room may be large and still not contain a place for a bed or other furniture. It may be moderately small and yet have space for all. The more we think about the arrangement of houses, the larger appear the number of indispensables. It used to be thought unnecessary to have a closet in every bedroom; one was certainly enough in the family room. Now it is almost a necessity that there be two closets in the family room--one for the lady, and a smaller one for the gentleman. There should certainly be one closet in every bedroom, and, in addition to that, one which opens from the hall, to be used for bed-linen and general bedroom supplies. A suitable place for brooms and dust-pans is the attic stairway when a special closet is not provided. In lighting bedrooms there should be at least one window for each outside exposure. Where the size will admit, there should be two windows placed so that the dressing-case can be set between them, either in the corner or otherwise. Most bedrooms are lighted artificially by bracket lights instead of the centre light. There should be one bracket on each side of the dressing-case; if not, a pendent light immediately over it. Centre connections for gas-fixture are usually provided, but in practice many houses are not supplied with the fixture. Grates on the second floor make work: carrying of fuel and ashes is always disagreeable in the extremest degree. The placing of ash-pits in the cellar may make it unnecessary to carry the ashes, but still grates make work. At the same time it is very pleasant to have a grate in the bedroom; they are the best means of ventilation known. The servant's room is not usually very large, seldom large enough. It should be provided with a closet, the same as other rooms. The window in that room should be set high enough from the floor so as to admit of the placing of a trunk under it, without interfering with the light or in other ways appearing uncomfortable. The bath-room and general plumbing work are considered in detail in the following chapter. It is sufficient to say that there should be as little wood-work as possible in the bath-room. Water-proof plastering should be used, and when this becomes soiled it can be washed and painted. There is nothing a housekeeper appreciates more than a good attic and an easy stairway leading to it. Often attics are not plastered; they should always be floored at the same time the house is built. Where it is not possible to make divisions by plastering, and other substantial material, light wooden partitions will serve the purpose of providing means of classifying that which is stored in the attic, and prevent it from being in a continual state of disorder. The rooms may be fitted with shelves, closets, etc. Where it is possible so to do, the attic room should be plastered. It makes the rooms below appreciably cooler in summer. In most of the plans herein illustrated, the roof is high enough to provide space for good rooms, with ceilings as high and as square as those of the rooms below. It is cheaper to provide rooms in this way than to spread over more ground; and there is certainly no valid objection to their use by the boys of the family. CHAPTER X. PLUMBING.--IS PLUMBING ENTIRELY SAFE?--COMPLETENESS IN PLUMBING APPARATUS.--LABOR-SAVING PLUMBING APPARATUS.--SEWER CONNECTIONS.--SOIL PIPE.--A TRAP.--ACCIDENTS TO TRAPS.--FREQUENT USE OF PLUMBING APPARATUS DESIRABLE FOR SAFETY.--WATER-CLOSETS.--SIMPLICITY IN PLUMBING.--DRAIN CONNECTIONS.--TO KEEP PLUMBING APPARATUS FROM FREEZING.--CISTERN WATER SUPPLY.--GREASE SINK.--FLUSHING OF DRAIN.--BATH-TUB. In considering the plumbing apparatus of a house, the question is often asked, "Are these things safe? Do they not endanger the health of the occupants of the house?" The answer is, The plumbing apparatus may be entirely safe. That it is not always so, we all know. We hear of many cases of typhoid fever, diphtheria, scarlet fever, and other diseases, which are traceable to, or aggravated by, defective plumbing. In some sections of the country so much trouble has been caused by poor plumbing, that the people, as a class, have come to be suspicious of all. The reason for this is the effort to cheapen the work. Suffering from bad work has led to safety. In larger cities this work is under the control of the city government. It may be said that it is possible so to arrange the fixtures and apparatus appertaining to plumbing that it is entirely safe. The question naturally follows, "How is this done?" It may be said that good work is not a great deal more expensive than poor work. Again, good work is not always a question of money. It is one of knowledge or inclination on the part of the plumber. One in moderate circumstances, who builds a house to cost from twenty-five hundred to four thousand dollars, should have well water or city water, and hot and cold cistern water in the sink in the kitchen. There should be at least a slop-hopper in the laundry. In the bath-room a water-closet, a tub, and generally a wash-stand. This latter feature is not absolutely necessary, as will be explained later. In the attic there should be a tank to hold the cistern water, which is connected with the fixtures using soft water below. A force-pump, or water-motor, may be located in the kitchen or basement to lift the water to tank. In more elaborate houses a completer plumbing apparatus may be used. There may be an especial sink in the china-closet. There may be wash-stands in the various chambers, and one on the first floor. There may be, also, an additional water-closet on the first floor, or in the cellar, located where it is accessible to the members of the family. There are many ways of expending money in plumbing fixtures; but, with those first mentioned, one may be entirely comfortable, and derive all of the housekeeping benefits which may be expected from such conveniences. Unless the house be large, an increase in the number of fixtures would increase the amount of work done in keeping them clean, rather than save labor. In the matter of safety, another question, which sometimes arises, is as to the danger from the plumbing apparatus where there is no sewer connection, or where it has to be made with a vault. The protection against sewer-gas is not from the sewer itself or the vault. It is entirely through protective apparatus in the house, and the manner of the connection with the vault or sewer. One may consider the conditions of safety in plumbing apparatus under two general heads. First, as to the workmanship; second, as to design or plan of the apparatus. Nothing need be said as to the workmanship, excepting that the execution of the design, or the benefits to be derived from it, maybe entirely lost by defective workmanship. If the work is not properly executed, the design need not be considered. The result will be bad irrespective of the plan. In considering the design of the apparatus, we will take into account the arrangement of the connections and fixtures. By the latter expression is meant the tub, the water-closet, the wash-bowl, and the sink, pump, etc. The connections which have to do with the safety of the apparatus are the traps and the waste pipes, or pipes which connect with the vault or sewer. The main waste pipe inside the house is called the soil pipe. The smaller waste pipes from the fixtures connect with it. The soil pipe is of cast-iron, and usually four inches in diameter on the inside. It connects, full size, with the water-closet. Most other wastes are of lead, and are usually an inch and a half in diameter. In the soil and waste pipes there will naturally be the odors from the vaults and sewer, or from the foul matter which is in or passing through the pipes. Therefore, there must be means in each waste pipe, which connects a fixture with the main soil pipe, of preventing the passage of gas or air from it into the house. This is done by means of what is called a trap. The "S" trap is the commonest form; this name is given it from its shape, and illustrates its construction. If we take a letter S and turn it sideways we will get the form of such a trap. The right side or end would continue directly down toward the drain or soil pipe, and the left side would continue upward and connect with the fixture (see Fig. 6). The water from the fixture comes down and is forced upward through the bend by the pressure of water above, and from thence runs into the soil pipe or drain. Thus it will be seen that there is always a seal of water in the trap. There is always water in the trap as indicated by the depth of the bend of the S. There are hundreds of different forms of traps, but they are all constructed on the same principle; the idea being that the gas or air from the pipe would have to pass through the water in order to get into the house. The water in the trap is called the seal; it seals the passage of air as stated. [Illustration: Fig. 6.] There are many conditions under which a trap may fail to do its full duty. It may be foul in itself, or it may be rendered foul by the bad air in the drain. The trap may be siphoned by a heavy flow of water through the main drain, or it may be siphoned by a string or a rag which may readily find its way into the trap, and hang over the bend so that all of the water will run out. Again, the water in the trap may evaporate. All these dangers may be guarded against. In the first place, there should be means which allow fresh air to pass through all that portion of the main drain or soil pipe which is in or close to the house. The means of accomplishing this are various. The soil pipe is ventilated by continuing up through and well above the roof with a full opening at the top. The smaller drains should be ventilated in the same way when far removed from main soil pipe or other connection. The traps should be ventilated by 1-1/2-inch or two-inch connections with the outer air, as shown by cut. Frequent use of plumbing fixtures contributes to safety. It causes a large volume of water to pass through the pipes. The flushing of the pipes and drains in this way makes them cleaner and thus safer. It is frequently said by those who have plumbing fixtures in their houses that they use them as little as possible, because they are afraid of them. Nothing worse could be done. The water in the traps evaporates or becomes foul, and thus the gas has a free entrance to the house. A water-closet helps greatly to cleanse the soil pipe and outside drain. It discharges a large volume of water into it suddenly, in a way to keep it clean. It is not a bad plan to use the closet at least once a day, solely for the purpose of flushing the drain. In houses where there are a number of wash-stands distributed through the various chambers and halls there is danger from neglect in using them. The water seal in the traps may evaporate, and thus give direct sewer-air connection with the house. Particularly is this so in the guest's room. A wash-stand is a more dangerous fixture for this reason than any other in the house. [Illustration: Fig. 7] The water-closet problem has received a great deal of attention. A few years ago they were quite complicated, there being levers and pipes, pans, springs and weights, to a degree of complexity which caused a great deal of trouble. There has since been a return to first principles and great simplicity. The water-closet of to-day is nothing more or less than a large bowl connected by means of an "S" trap four inches in diameter with the soil pipe, and provided with means of flushing with large volumes of water. Such a closet is known as the "washout closet." In other closets there is an intermediate plunger-valve separating the hopper from the trap. The plunger-valve is defined by its name. It is a large stopper which plunges into and closes up the opening to the trap by means of its own weight when released. That which makes one closet different from another has to do more with means of flushing than anything else. By flushing is meant the pouring into and distribution of water in the hopper. The most popular closets, those which have given the most satisfaction, are "washout" closets, made entirely of white earthenware, not alone the bowl, but the trap and connecting neck. Closets are best flushed from an independent tank, which is placed about seven feet above the closet and connects with it by means of 1-1/4-inch pipe. The height gives it a strong flush of water, which cleanses it thoroughly. In the past it has been usual to conceal the earthenware or iron body of the closet. It is best to leave it entirely open around the sides, that the entire apparatus may be exposed. Sometimes it is necessary to support the flap and seat by legs, though the modern closets are arranged so that all of the woodwork may be secured to the upper part of the hopper or the wall. There should be the solid flap covering to the wooden seat with the opening in it, both of which should be hinged, so as to allow them to be thrown back. It is convenient to use the water-closet as a slop hopper. In order to do this the seat should be hinged, so that it may be thrown back out of the way. One frequently hears it said by those who exercise their authority over household matters that they do not allow anything to be put into the water-closet except that which is naturally intended for it; meaning that they do not allow the slop water to be put into it. There is no reason in this. The closet that cannot be used for this purpose cannot, with safety, be allowed in the house. The use of the water-closet as a slop sink is not only legitimate but desirable. It flushes the drain. There is a movement toward simplicity in general plumbing apparatus. At the time the water-closets were in the complicated state mentioned, everything pertaining to plumbing was in the same general condition. It was thought necessary to fill a house with a wilderness of pipes and traps to have it safe or satisfactory. The very complexity of the arrangement made it not only unsafe but expensive to maintain. We have all heard a great deal about the expense of maintaining a plumbing plant, if it may be so called. There is no reason why there should be constant repairs and expense. It is pleasant to know that additional expense is not necessary to secure immunity from trouble. The idea of simplicity in arrangement, general excellence in the fixtures, material, and labor, which go to form the completed work, has to be borne in mind. The arrangement of the plumbing apparatus has to be planned with the same care and thoughtfulness as the other parts of the house. It should be remembered that if the pipes are placed in a position where the temperature is liable to fall below thirty-two degrees the water in the pipes will freeze. Thus it is suggested that all pipes should be on an inside wall,--if possible, next to the kitchen flue,--and that there be here arranged an especial pipe duct of wood to ventilate the kitchen, and, at the same time, keep the pipes from freezing by means of the warm air which will pass through it. This duct should be covered on the face with a wide board, which can be readily removed by taking out a few screws. Thus the pipes may be exposed at any time desirable. If the hot-water boiler in the kitchen is surrounded by an enclosure which has an opening in the bottom, and which connects from above with the pipe duct previously described, there will be a current of warm air passing upward through the pipe duct as long as there is warm water in the boiler. The water in the boiler will be warm long after everything else is cold. This will insure safety from freezing when other helps fail. The cistern water is supplied to the bath-room, and to the hot-water reservoir, by means of a tank placed in the attic, or at least above the highest fixture. It sometimes happens that the supply pipe from the tank above the attic floor freezes. All this may be prevented by enclosing the tank, and the pipe which connects with it, with a large box or canvas covering which is six or eight inches larger than the tank. This confines the warm air from the duct mentioned, so that as long as there is heat it will always be in this enclosure. The outside drain, which connects with the vault or sewer, is, in some instances, trapped previous to its entrance to the sewer or vault. In such cases, this trap should have a connection with the outer air, and on the side of the trap towards the house. Sometimes this outer-air connection is made into the water spout from the roof; but this is not proper, for the reason that the sewer gas, or the gas from the vault, is almost certain to destroy the spout. Again, this spout may come out near a dormer, or may pass near a window, and in either case may contaminate the air in the house. It is better that this ventilating connection should be in the yard, at some distance from the house, or, better yet, that there should be a long iron pipe extending well above the ground. It should be understood that this vent has no direct connection with the sewer, but merely with the soil pipe and drain back of the trap; with that part of it which is nearest to, and in, the house. Sometimes it is necessary to run the down spouts into the sewer connection; in such a case one should be certain that the down-spout openings are not near the dormers, and that they have no connection whatever with the cistern. It is common to have a switch or cut-off in the down spout, so that the latter may be connected either with the cistern or sewer. This is very bad practice. While it is connected with the sewer or with the drain pipe, the down spout is contaminated with all the foulness of the air of the drain. On its being connected with the cistern, the water is poisoned. Immunity from sewer gas in the house is largely dependent upon the flushing and ventilation of the drain and the soil pipe. In the case of a drain which is trapped as described, there is an air connection through the vent before the trap; then the soil pipe which is in the house should continue upward through the roof. Thus there is a fresh air inlet through the drain, and upward through the soil pipe of the house. Such a connection prevents the possibility of siphoning the traps, as it gives an outward air connection. The water passing through the drain or soil pipe can draw its supply of air from the upward soil vent, rather than through the traps which contain water. When there is no upward vent of the soil or drain, the water in the traps which connect therewith will be drawn out by the passage of water through the drain where fixtures are used. There are those who maintain that there should be no trap in the yard or adjacent to the house, but that there should be a straight run from the soil pipe to the sewer or vault, and upward through the roof and above the house. It is good practice to use the trap as described for sewer connections, but not for open vault connections. A grease sink is frequently placed in the drain to intercept the passage of grease into the vault. It is so placed and connected that only the water from the kitchen sink, or other fixtures where the water contains grease, may enter it. It is made of brick, and is usually of six or eight barrels capacity. A four-inch pipe connects it with the kitchen waste, and if the grease sink is placed adjacent to the main drain, there can be a similar connection between it and the main drain. It should be a siphon connection, so that the sink will become nearly full before it discharges. When it discharges through the siphon the water will go out with a rush and leave the grease in the sink. This makes an intermittent discharge into the main drain, which flushes or cleanses it thoroughly and is much better than a constant small flow of water. This grease sink must be cleaned from time to time. Small cast-iron grease sinks are sometimes placed under kitchen sinks in very large dwellings or hotels. Nothing particular need be said in regard to wash-stands more than has been said, excepting, possibly, that the drain should be trapped, ventilated, and connected with the soil pipe; also that there should be a lead safe or safety pan on the floor under the wash-stand when they are enclosed; it is preferable that they should remain unenclosed. It has been common to connect this safe with the soil pipe. It is only intended that it should be useful in cases of accidental overflow; but, notwithstanding the fact that there be a trap in the safe waste or drain, it would be empty most of the time, because of the evaporation of the water. It is proper to make direct connection with the cellar or kitchen sink. The bath-tub should have the same-sized drain connection as the wash-stand; that is, one and one-half inch in diameter, trapped. The overflows from both the wash-stand and tub should be flushed with hot water quite frequently, to avoid the soap smells which are so common to bath-rooms. It often happens that those who have bath-rooms in their houses imagine that they smell sewer gas, when it is nothing more or less than the smell of rancid soap. CHAPTER XI. HEAT AND VENTILATION.--COMMON HEATING ARRANGEMENTS.--PRESENT METHODS GENERALLY UNSATISFACTORY.--IDEAL CONDITIONS.--PROPER AMOUNT OF MOISTURE RARELY ATTAINED.--A FURNACE DEFINED.--METHODS OF REACHING BEST RESULTS.--SUPPLY OF PROPER AMOUNT OF MOISTURE.--REMOVAL OF FOUL AIR.--SUPPLYING FRESH AIR WITH PROPER MOISTURE FROM STOVES.--STEAM AND HOT WATER HEATING.--DIRECT AND INDIRECT RADIATION.--LOW-COST HEATING APPARATUS. It is only within a short time that the heating and ventilation of buildings of any kind have been in any measure satisfactory. This applies only to the largest buildings; the heating and ventilating of smaller structures are still in an unsatisfactory condition. Most dwelling-houses are heated with stoves, which, as now arranged, are not successful. The same air is heated over and over again. Fresh air in the proper quantities or from the proper source is not supplied to the interior of the building. Grates are very well in their way in that they take large quantities of air from the room. Thus far they ventilate. The supply of air is necessarily irregular, unless special means are provided. Furnaces are used for heating a very large number of houses. While they are satisfactory in some respects, they are deficient in others. The same thing may be said of steam, hot-water, or other heating apparatus. As the statement has been made that heating systems in general, as applied to dwelling-houses, are unsatisfactory, it may be well to state the fault, and what is to be desired. It is not the purpose to consider this question chemically, or from a highly scientific standpoint; there is no occasion for it. It is well to bear in mind that we are considering the heating and ventilating of a house during cold weather, and not its ventilation during the summer, when natural means are to be relied upon. Then it may be asked, What is to be done? Primarily the air should be at the proper temperature at all times; it should be in its pure state, as found on the outside of the building, and not contaminated with any of the gases of combustion. It should be supplied with its proper equivalent of moisture at the temperature at which we find it in the room. As it becomes impure from natural causes, there should be some means of effecting its withdrawal. These are the ideal conditions. How far do they exist in practice? The temperature is ordinarily high enough. The air of the room is apt to be contaminated by the gases of combustion, and vitiated by breathing and otherwise. Rarely indeed does it contain its proper equivalent of moisture; it is dry and parched. Now that we know the conditions in their ideal state and as they exist in fact, we will consider in detail what may be done to bring about more satisfactory results. If the heating apparatus be a furnace, it should be constructed of steel or wrought-iron plate, the joints thoroughly riveted and calked; or, if of other material, it should certainly be gas-tight. Every precaution should be taken to prevent the passage of the air of combustion from the furnace to the warm-air chambers and from thence to the rooms above. The furnace is nothing more or less than a large stove with various radiating arrangements, surrounded by an iron or brick enclosure, with a supply of fresh air from the outside, and with connecting tin pipes to the rooms above. It is important that the inner parts, the fire-pot, the radiating surface, etc., be thoroughly well built and gas-tight, to prevent the heated air from becoming contaminated by the gases of combustion. The supply of outer air should be ample. It should be so arranged that it can never be entirely cut off. The furnace should be of sufficient capacity so that means of reducing the outer air supply should not be necessary. However, if such arrangements are made, they should be limited. The proper equivalent of moisture should be given to the air at the temperature at which it reaches the room. It may be said that there is a water-pan connected with every furnace, that will do everything necessary in supplying moisture. This is a mistake. So far as I know, the furnace or other heating apparatus for dwellings has not been constructed which is provided with a proper evaporating apparatus. The pan is set in the side of the furnace, with an opening to the outside into which water may be poured. It is small, and has very little evaporating surface on the inside. Oftentimes the joints at the outside are so poorly made that the cold air from the cellar may be drawn in over the water in the pan, and in that way prevent its proper evaporation. Winter air heated to a summer temperature is dry and parched, whereas natural summer air contains the proper amount of moisture. The outer air during the winter time has its proper equivalent of moisture for the winter temperature, which is a much smaller amount than would belong to it at a higher temperature. Therefore when we take winter air into the furnace or other heating apparatus, raise it to a summer temperature, and carry it into a room, we have a very dry air, which seeks its equivalent of moisture from the occupants of the room, from the furniture, carpets, walls, ceiling, and everything in it. The air will not take additional moisture unless that moisture be supplied after it has reached a higher temperature. For instance, if a spray or a series of wet blankets be arranged in the cold-air duct, before the air gets to the furnace, the air will not take the moisture from that spray or from the damp blankets. The moisture must be supplied after the air is heated. Where the water-pan is set on the side of the furnace, and where there is a supply of air through the pan from the cellar, as there frequently is, evaporation is naturally retarded by the cold air, as indicated. Again, if this pan be never so well protected, it is small, the proper amount of evaporating surface is not presented. An evaporating pan or other device should be placed above the fire-pot and should occupy a large proportion of the area of the heating chamber. The supply of water should not be dependent upon some one's attention. It should be constant by means of a ball-cock or otherwise. It should run into or drip into a shallow pan, or should be supplied to sheets of felt or blanket so that the air will come in contact with the moist surfaces, at the temperature at which it is to go into the room. Thus it has the proper amount of moisture which belongs to it at that temperature. In this way we have winter air from the outside going into the room at a summer temperature and with a summer equivalent of moisture; that is, we have summer air in the winter time. People sometimes undertake to get around this by putting water-pans in the registers, but they are rarely ample. They are neglected, or they interfere with the supply of warm air, and are abandoned. Where a furnace is already in a house, or where it is not possible to make elaborate arrangements for providing the air with moisture, there is a very simple makeshift which is quite effective. It consists in suspending in the registers in the floor small water receptacles--a quart bucket answers every purpose--in which is placed a broad strip of linen. This cloth should go to the bottom of the receptacle and be long enough to hang over and below it for several inches. When the bucket is filled with water this piece of cloth acts as a siphon, and carries the water, a drop at a time, into the furnace-pipe, where it is converted into steam. A piece of old table-linen is the best material to use, for the reason that it carries the water fast enough, that the heat from the furnace does not dry it out before it can drop into the pipe; otherwise the cloth becomes dry at the end, and the siphonage ceases. For the same reason it should be broad,--about twelve inches. Where a moderate heat is carried through the furnace-pipe, three quarts of water may be evaporated in this way in twenty-four hours from each bucket. A bucket of the size mentioned does not in any way interfere with the passage of heat. The next point for consideration is the means of getting the foul, contaminated air to the outside. One way is through the use of grates. Another is by means of ducts in the wall, opening near the floor, which draw the foul air from the room to the outside. These should consist of heated flues, with connecting registers in the ceiling and floor, which may be open when necessary. Under any circumstances, the grate is best. Sometimes the flue may be heated by a supply of warm air from the furnace, or by a steam-pipe in case steam is used for heating the house. In natural-gas regions, the supply of additional heat in a flue from a furnace or by a jet would be a small matter. We have mentioned heating by stoves, grates, and furnaces. The same principles which apply to the furnishing of fresh air to a furnace may be applied to a stove. The fact is, they never have been. A stove should be made, and will be made some day, that is surrounded on the outside by a second jacket, the space between being connected with the outer air by means of a tin tube to the under side of the stove. The supply of cold air could be so arranged as to be shut off when there was no heat in the stove. The warm air would pass out at the top of the jacket. On top of the stove could be placed an evaporating pan, and the supply of moisture come therefrom. In connection with the stove-pipe, which should be jacketed, a second ventilating flue, starting from the floor and having an opening both above and below, could be arranged, and in that way the supply of fresh air and withdrawal of impure air could be accomplished. Next we may speak of steam and hot-water heating. So far as a change of air and the ventilation of the room are concerned, heating by direct radiation, that is, by radiators placed in the room, is no better than stove heating. It may be that the air is not so severely parched by the extreme heat, also the escape of steam may contribute somewhat to the moisture of the air; but the escape of steam is not agreeable, and is not allowed to exist to any great extent;--its odor is not always pleasant. Certainly the addition of moisture to the air by this means would be a mere makeshift and unsatisfactory. Hot-water coils act the same as steam radiators in that they heat the same air over and over again, and are no better than stoves, so far as the provision for fresh air, at proper temperature and humidity, is concerned. A steam or hot-water apparatus, with indirect radiation, is superior to furnace heat as ordinarily provided. The means of supplying moisture to an indirect steam apparatus, as ordinarily constructed, are not convenient. There is a radiator for each hot-air connection above, that is, a radiator for each register, with a distinct and direct supply of outer air thereto. Sometimes there are two registers connecting with a single radiator. But under any circumstances the radiators are somewhat separated, having steam or water connection with the boiler at the proper point. Steam apparatus for public buildings has been constructed where the radiators have been bunched, that is, put into a single chamber, the air passing through the chamber containing the radiators, where it is heated to the proper temperature, and the moisture afterwards supplied before it enters the room. Where this arrangement is used, there must be conductors, tin or otherwise, from the chamber to the register, as in the case of a furnace. Again, it will be found that the supply of air will not be uniform through all of the openings; for instance, the register that is farthest removed from the warm-air chamber may fail to act. In this event, auxiliary radiators may be placed under that register, and the operation of the heating apparatus greatly facilitated thereby. This plan is superior to a furnace, and can be applied to hot-water or steam apparatus in dwellings. The reason that it is superior to a furnace is that the supply of heat is more uniform. It does not require the constant firing or attention that is necessary in the case of a hot-air furnace. It may be known that the temperature does not change with the pressure of steam or in the same proportion. There are inexpensive automatic arrangements in connection with furnaces and steam apparatus, which control the dampers and keep the steam pressure measurably uniform, as long as there is fuel of sufficient quantity in the fire-pot. The hot-water apparatus is more uniform in its operation than steam, and for that reason more satisfactory. A furnace plant is the most inexpensive apparatus that may be used for general heating; the steam apparatus is next higher as to first cost, though no more expensive in amount of fuel used. The hot-water apparatus costs more than steam, and is somewhat more economical in the cost of maintenance. It is probable that a house of moderate size can be warmed all over at a less cost, as far as fuel is concerned, by a furnace or a steam or hot-water heating apparatus than by stoves and grates. However, grates are generally used in addition to these for the purpose of comfort and appearance, and for ventilating. Under such circumstances, they consume very little fuel. CHAPTER XII. HEATING DEVICES AS WE FIND THEM.--FURNACE ESTIMATES.--COMBINATION HOT AIR AND HOT WATER.--DISH-WARMING ARRANGEMENTS.--HOW TO GET A GOOD HEATING APPARATUS. For the present, people who build must take things as they find them, and use heating and ventilating apparatus as regularly manufactured. Experiments are uncertain. The theory of the proper heating and ventilating of a house as set forth in previous chapter is correct. The fulfilment of the ideas in dwelling-house heating remains to be practically worked out. It is not the business of the architect, or the housewife, or the owner of the house, to work out these mechanical details. It will be done in time by competent mechanical experts. In the estimates subsequently given, the furnace is the only means considered for general heating. However, this does not indicate a prejudice in favor of that particular method. The furnace is considered and figured upon as the ordinary method of heating houses of moderate cost. It is the least expensive plant to be used for general heating. Indirect radiation from hot water or steam is to be preferred to a furnace. A combination of a hot-air furnace with hot water, or steam, is used with fair success. In this case, a hot-water coil is placed in an ordinary furnace, which connects with hot-water radiators in a conservatory or other room for the purpose of contributing a uniform degree of heat to that room. The water supply is a tank, located well above the level of the radiators, and connecting through an inlet pipe with the coil in the furnace. The proper means of supplying this tank with water is through a ball-cock or float-cock, the float of which opens the valve when the water gets low in the tank. Thus the supply is as constant as the source. A hot-water radiator of this kind may be used in connection with a device for warming dishes or keeping food warm. The heat is gentle, uniform, and constant. This is a general advantage of all hot-water heating. Aside from the automatic arrangements for controlling the steam or water pressure in the heating apparatus, and thus measurably controlling the temperature in the building, other more positive automatic arrangements are provided which undertake to maintain any fixed temperature. These are proprietary devices, patented and advertised. Complaints are made of the general inefficiency of everything under the sun: hence, furnaces and other heating apparatus come in for their share. An architect is sometimes asked how he would heat a certain building. He answers, "Hot water, steam, or furnace."--"Oh, I wouldn't have steam. My uncle had a steam plant in his house, and they nearly froze to death all last winter; and they burned over a ton of coal a week." The same things are said, and truly, of every kind of heating apparatus made, when we consider them in general classes. General complaints of a similar nature are made of everything. In regard to the steam plant or hot-water apparatus, or anything else of which this thing may have been said, one may first acknowledge its truthfulness, and then consider what it all means. Something is at fault. It may be that the whole design of the apparatus is faulty. The design may be right, and the construction bad. Everything else may be right, but the apparatus too small; or there may be some little defect which has to do with the placing of the apparatus in the house. Sometimes, when everything is in good form, the apparatus does not receive proper attention: hence trouble. It may be asked how one is to get a good heating apparatus for a dwelling-house. The first thing to be determined is, the particular kind to be used: whether hot-water, steam, or hot-air furnace. There are many manufacturers of the various apparatus, who are regularly in the business. To these may be submitted plans of the building, and a request for estimates and suggestions. It is the experience of an architect that one who is putting money regularly in the manufacture or production of anything will not waste his energies for a great length of time on a bad thing, if he knows it. The evidence that an establishment has been putting up good furnaces or other heating apparatus is long-continued business success. If the owner of a house writes to an old-established, wealthy concern, and sends his plans, he is as certain to get a reliable proposition as he can be of anything. A local agent of an establishment of this kind may misrepresent, unintentionally or otherwise. The surest way is to go to headquarters. The local agent does not always know exactly what should be done. A competent architect can settle all these matters for an owner. However, if an architect says there are only one or two furnaces or heating apparatus which are all right, he is either ignorant or dishonest. There are many different kinds which will give fair satisfaction. The idea in this chapter is to take things as we find them, and suggest what may be done. The theories outlined in the previous chapter may be correct, but they do not amount to anything to a man who is building to-day. The only purpose of this chapter is to suggest to those who are building that they go to a first-class house, pay a fair price, and get the best possible apparatus regularly in the market. CHAPTER XIII. THE HOUSE AND ITS BEAUTY.--ARTISTIC SURROUNDINGS.--BEAUTY MORE A MATTER OF INTELLIGENCE THAN MONEY.--VESTIBULE DECORATIONS.--BEAUTY IN THE RECEPTION-HALL.--MANTELS AND GRATES.--FRET-WORK AND PORTIÈRES.--SPINDLE WORK.--SIMPLE FORMS OF GOOD DECORATION.--WOOD-CARVING.--DOOR AND WINDOW CASINGS.--A CONSERVATORY.--STAINED GLASS.--A CABINET ON THE MANTEL.--TINTED PLASTERING.--FRESCOING.--SAFETY IN THE SELECTION OF COLORS.--AN ATTRACTIVE SITTING-ROOM.--THE PARLOR.--A RECEPTION-ROOM.--PARLOR HISTORY.--THE IDEAL PARLOR.--THE LIBRARY.--A PLACE OF QUIET AND REST.--LIBRARY FURNISHINGS.--THE DINING-ROOM.--SOCIAL RELATIONS OF THE DINING-ROOM.--DINING-ROOM DECORATIONS.--CONSERVATORY AND DINING-ROOM.--A WOOD CEILING.--BEAUTY IN BEDROOMS.--QUIET AND LIGHT. The journey through the house is hardly complete until we abandon the material view, and consider it from the standpoint of beauty. As is said in another connection, the architect does not do his full duty in making a house a model of convenience and utility. The housekeeper always looks toward a beautiful home, something that will be recognized for its beauty and elegance. A house that is beautiful and attractive gives pleasure to all who see it, as well as to the occupants. A beautiful, artistic house is a source of education to the occupants. A porch with clumsy columns, rude mouldings, heavy ceiling, coarse details of all kinds, cannot but affect one's living. One that is fine in detail, generous in size, decorated in artistic spirit, must of necessity not alone contribute to the comfort of those who live in the house, but serve to lift them from that which is common and ordinary. People may be surrounded by that which is beautiful and artistic, and for a time fail to realize its true excellence, or they may be surrounded with that which is homely and crude without knowing the full measure of its ugliness. The time must come, however, when the truth will be realized to a certain extent. If it is in the direction of the appreciation of what is beautiful, it must necessarily bring about a higher state of mind. No man can walk across a front porch, time after time, and take hold of a beautiful door, without being affected by it. For this reason the vestibule, the front door, and all that belongs to it, should be designed in a thoughtful spirit, with the idea that it is the first of all things that will impress those who enter the house. There may not be much money to put into this door, but what there is may as well bring something beautiful as something ugly. The same money that will make an ugly detail will make a beautiful, artistic one. If the glass of this door must be inexpensive, let it be the ordinary cathedral glass. Instead of being brilliant in color, select a soft, mild tint,--a light amber or a straw color. If there are divisions in the door so that a number of sheets may be used, two tints at most are all that are necessary. It is best that they should be quiet in tone. If money is more abundant, and an elaborate stained-glass design may be had, put the work in the hands of an artist, one who is well known, and the result cannot but be satisfactory. As to the door itself, nothing can be nicer than natural wood, properly finished. The detail of the design should be refined; there should be an avoidance of all that is clumsy and heavy. The spirit of the interior may be stamped upon this door. Where one cannot encompass the expense of an artistically designed glass for the door or vestibule opening, a very pretty effect may be secured by the use of a plain sheet of plate-glass; or, if desired, a slight additional expense will give glass with bevelled edges. Sometimes this bevelled glass is in small squares, with leaded joints. This gives a very simple and rich effect from either side. As one opens this door and steps into the vestibule, there may come to his sight a beautiful mantel and grate-fire in the reception-hall beyond. This is particularly beautiful when shown through the folds of a tapestry curtain which separates the vestibule from the reception-hall. Sometimes this vestibule is arranged so that there is a small window at one side of it. Nothing can be nicer than to have this filled with glass, of the same general design as that of the door. The hooks for wraps should be of polished brass, secured to a natural-wood strip. An umbrella-stand of the same material is attractive. The floor is best of hard wood, all but covered with a heavy rug. This is a pleasant place to stop a moment, with a more beautiful view beyond. A reception-hall is, from an architectural standpoint, the easiest room in the house to handle; that is, it can easily be made to look well. This is because of its connection with the vestibule, the stairway, the grate, often a window-seat, the large openings into the other rooms, and the portières which go with them. All these things combine well to make a pretty room. Stairways, as now designed, are much more beautiful than those made a few years ago. Then it was a habit to start at one end of the hall and continue to the second floor in a single run, with winders only at the upper end, to change the direction of the movement. Now it is common to have at least two landings in each run; oftentimes there will be only two or three steps, then a landing, from which steps lead to another near the top. At the beginning of the stairway there are the newel posts, and at each landing a corner post. This arrangement frequently admits of the placing of a seat along one side of the outer part of the lower landing. If not that, possibly one along the side of the stairway, below the run of steps which starts from the lower landing. The space between the railing and the steps is usually occupied by turned balusters, though there are many forms of filling and decorating this space. Sometimes it is of turned spindle-work, scroll-work, fret-work, and squares or panels, arranged in different forms. It is not unusual to have stained-glass windows at each landing. These windows are not necessarily large, and are usually hung on hinges. Sometimes a small bay-window projection is made from one or both of these landings. In them may be placed seats, and in this way add beauty and convenience to the room. It is quite usual to cover the reception-hall with rugs rather than carpets. The hard-wood floor idea probably had its origin in the reception-hall. If it ever takes its departure it will be first from this room. If a hard-wood floor is not largely covered with rugs it requires a great deal of labor. The mantel in the reception-hall should be of wood. It is pleasant to have the larger part of the entire setting made of tile. These tiles are now made in most beautiful designs and colorings. Beautiful figured designs may be had, if not for the entire facing, for certain parts. It is not uncommon that only a narrow margin of wood-work borders the sides of a mantel of this kind. The shelf and cabinet above may be as ornamental as desired. No treatment of wood-work can add to the beauty of a large surface of tile facing. In some instances, no shelf is provided; simply a bevelled facing, with a margin of woodwork, not over an inch wide, to cover the joint where the tiling comes in contact with the plaster. The hearth should be large. The grate border is best of brass. The walls of the reception-hall may have a gray plaster finish, or be tinted or papered, as desired. The picture moulding may come pretty well down from the ceiling; certainly not higher than the tops of the doors. The part below may be tinted in one color, and the upper, in another. The picture moulding should always be of the same kind of wood as the finish, and not gilded or treated in any other highly artificial manner. The openings into other rooms, even where sliding or hinged doors are used, are frequently filled a short distance from their top with what is popularly called fret-work. It may be fret-work, pure and simple, or spindle-work, or simply scroll-work. It is a very pleasing form of ornamentation. The curtains come below. In one of the plans furnished, the entire vestibule is made up of turned work, which, with a curtain, is the only separation from the main hall. Sometimes arches are decorated in the same manner, and the space between the circle and frame is filled with these ornamental forms. A very simple way of making screens is by the use of thin quartered oak-strips, woven into basket patterns of ornamental form. Only one general design of door and window casings is shown in this book. There is no limit to the ornamental forms which may be used in decorating casings of any kind. During recent years, many ladies have used their energy and ability in the direction of wood-carving, and, under competent instruction, have done good work. For the most part, the patterns are in low relief. The designs are frequently conventionalized, foliated patterns. In the smaller communities it is hardly possible to get good carving through ordinary channels, for the reason that there is not a sufficient amount of this kind of work to be done to justify a high grade of talent in occupying so unprofitable a field. It is unfortunately true, however, that very few workmen who can carve at all, but have an idea that they do this kind of work exceedingly well. No matter how crude their efforts may be, there is no lack of self-appreciation. They profess to be able to do that of which they are entirely ignorant. It is best to be content with the simple mechanical forms of interior wood-decoration, unless there are those of known and recognized ability, who are capable of executing the more artistic patterns. Door and window casings are made much narrower and less complex than was the custom several years ago. The sitting-room of the lower floor is more clearly defined by the term "living-room." It is a room with much more wall space than the reception-hall. It usually contains a grate and mantel; has a large window to the front, and one on the side. It is very nice if one of these windows can be arranged in the form of a bay, with or without a window-seat. In the latter case, it may serve the purpose of a conservatory in the winter and a window-seat in summer. The use of large quantities of stained glass in a sitting-room is objectionable. It is very well to have a certain amount of it in the upper sash of some of the windows. If the colors are mild, the effect upon the atmosphere of the room is pleasant indeed--the light coming through the soft amber or straw tints adds a mellowness and richness to the light of the room, which is opposed to the colder effects of light which comes through white glass. The mantel of the sitting-room may contain a large number of compartments in the form of small shelves, brackets, or cabinets, in which may be placed bric-à-brac of various forms. A little cabinet on each side of a mantel, with a high door, is a very pretty feature. A mirror between these cabinets gives a pleasing effect. This mantel, like the one in the reception-room, should be of wood with tile hearth and facings. If this room is plastered in a gray finish, the walls may be tinted in fresco colors, and, if desired, certain parts of it ornamented by stencilling or otherwise. Unless this ornamental work is done by an artist of recognized ability, it should be of the simplest character. One or two simple lines, or a series of short dashes, is much better than scrawling figures drawn by an untrained hand. The ordinary fresco done by the foreign artist is the ugliest, most ungraceful work possible. In the larger cities, there are usually a few artists who do very beautiful work, but the ordinary, cheap, conventional fresco stuff is barbarous. Plain tinted walls are preferable to such glaring monstrosities. There is not much risk, if one is careful in the selection of colors; the part above the picture moulding may be tinted differently from that below. There are very few people but feel themselves competent to select colors for the interior or exterior of a house. The fact is, there are very few who can do it with any assurance of success. It is well for those who have no special training in this line to pursue a safe plan in the selection of tints for the walls and ceilings. This may be done by choosing different shades of the same color for use in the room. Say one begins with a terra-cotta body for the part below the picture mould. That above the moulding may be a lighter terra-cotta with a tendency to a buff. Then the ceiling may be lighter still, or, to be entirely safe under almost any circumstances, a gray with a leaning towards the color of the wall. Other colors may be selected in the same way. Very light, vivid blues have frequently been selected for ceilings, presumably because of the supposed resemblance to the sky. It is certainly an illogical but by no means uncommon thought. Soft, undecided grays are much pleasanter to those of quiet tastes. There may be variations in it according to the character of the wall decorations and surroundings. If one without special knowledge wishes something more ambitious, he should consult some one of acknowledged ability in this particular line. One cannot afford to try experiments. Extremely beautiful wall decorations are to be had in wall-paperings, and, while rather expensive, are entirely satisfactory if carefully selected. Very little more may be said about the sitting-room, excepting to call to mind that a great deal depends upon the fittings and furnishings of the room, which, however, should not be glaring or rich. The quality of everything may be of the finest and best, yet this room should essentially be quieter in tone than the reception-hall or parlor, or even dining-room, which are not in constant use. Anything which is rich and in any way approaches the gorgeous is wearisome, and directly opposed to the idea of a sitting-room. The parlor may be merely a reception-room,--a room where a lady may receive her callers in the afternoon, or the more formal calls of ladies and gentlemen in the evening, or it may be one room in addition to the others in the lower part of the house. It may be the room which adds capacity to the lower floor during times of general entertaining. In some cases, particularly where the parlor is merely used as a reception-room, it need not be large. In such a case it is merely a place separated from the sitting-room, and in which to go for the purpose of receiving friends in a room somewhat removed from the slight confusion which may legitimately belong to a sitting-room. The parlor is made distinctive in its appearance from the sitting-room by its furnishings. It is not usual to have any great difference in the design of the wood-work in the different rooms of the lower floor. Generally speaking, the doors are of the same design, and likewise the casings, base, etc. The parlor belongs particularly to the society life of the occupants of the house. It is not generally a family room. It is removed from the ordinary home life except in so far as the general social conditions draw all together. The parlor, in its connection with the living-rooms of the house, and the house itself, is entirely legitimate. There is a good deal of sneering at the old parlor idea. This feeling has its origin in the memory of the parlors of a few years ago,--those which contained the one Brussels carpet, covered with red and green flowers, furnished with black hair-cloth furniture, chairs arranged around the wall in military style, a sofa--stiff of back and commanding an attitude--in a most conspicuous position; walls covered with coarse-figured, gilt paper, and rendered more offensive by cheap, family portraits in oil, and elaborately framed chromos. The parlor of to-day is still a formal room; it does not greatly differ from the older one in idea; it is the execution of the idea which has changed. There is a greater refinement in all the details; there is an artistic spirit which pervades everything. There is harmony of color, quietness in tone. The pictures are of a different character. The furniture is graceful and comfortable. It is rarely separated from the other part of the house. The doors leading into it are nearly always open. Oftentimes there are only portières of tapestry or lace to separate this room from the others which lead to it. It is a room which is made necessary by the social life of the time. The ideal parlor is a long room,--a large room. It is long in proportion to its width. Sometimes there is an archway near the middle, which suggests the division of the room into two parts. There is a mirror at the end, and, lending dignity to the room, there is the hall or library at one side. By its size, its arrangement, its dignity, it is inspiring to a congenial company. This is the ideal parlor, and the one of which the vulgarly furnished parlor of a few years ago was a corruption. The ideal parlor is shown in its completest original form in some of the old mansions of the East and South. Some of the old Virginia and Maryland houses carry out this idea in the completest way. In Natchez, Miss., are houses built long before the war, and designed by the French architects, which contain parlors of splendid proportions and most artistic details. These were designed in the purest classic architecture. The ceilings were high, the paintings rich. All this is somewhat removed from the common idea of a parlor as carried out at this time. However, it is a pleasant thing to look back upon, or, when the opportunity and means are at hand, a proper thing to enjoy in the reality. The library, as now understood, is, in the ordinary house, a room for books, papers, and magazines, in which the members of the family may gather, who have use for that which it contains. It should be a room which may be isolated from the other parts of the house; a room in which one may study or read or write, and have the quiet which belongs to such occupations. A room which may be used as a passage from one part of the house to another cannot be dignified by the name of library. In such a room there must be quiet. There are very few homes to which such a room would not be a material and practical addition. There are times when nearly every one desires the quiet and freedom from interruption which a room of this kind affords. It need not be a large room, but should contain all of the paraphernalia of work: a desk, conveniently arranged, bookshelves which are readily accessible, possibly portfolios arranged along the walls, drawers with proper compartments, cases for circulars and catalogues, and other "places for things." The nicest thing about book-cases is the books. Ornamental glass doors and rich trappings add nothing to the beauty of the library. People who make large use of books do not care to have them protected by glass cases. The other furnishings and fittings of a library should be quiet in tone, the chairs easy but not rich, the carpet of a neutral color, the wall decorations preferably without figured outlines, the pictures small and quiet. Sliding doors between the library and any other room of the house are not to be considered. Close-fitting doors on hinges are proper. They exclude the sound. Sliding doors permit the ready passage of sound, for the reason that they are more or less open at top, bottom, middle, and sides. A low ceiling in a library adds to the quiet and restful effect. One may have a low ceiling in a library, even if they are higher in other rooms, by studding down from above,--that is, putting in a false ceiling. The expense is light indeed, and by such means additional protection from the sounds above may be afforded. The dining-room, in many houses, is the room in which the entire family is gathered, perhaps for the only time during the day. In this sense it is an assembly room. There is in this busy country a growing respect for the social value of the dining-room. In the family meetings at the table, there may be an interchange of experiences that does not occur at other times, for the reason that there is no opportunity for it. After the meals the members of the family go to their various occupations, and probably do not come together until another meal. These facts may be considered in the planning of a dining-room. We have thought of this room before in its mechanical sense; we have looked at it through housekeeping eyes. We have now to consider its artistic and social features. We look at it as one of the family rooms. It has its shape or proportion suggested to it from the table. It is oblong. The light coming into it should be ample, but subdued in tone. It is pleasant, as one enters a dining-room, to come into full view of a sideboard which is decorated with that which belongs to this room in a utilitarian way--its china, cut glass, and beautiful linen, than which nothing can be more attractive. It is a pleasant thing to have a conservatory attached to one side or at a corner of the dining-room. The odor of flowers or plants may not be agreeable constantly in a sitting-room. The periodical occupation of the dining-room makes this pleasant rather than otherwise. Most of the plans which are shown will admit of the placing of a conservatory in connection with the dining-room in the manner indicated. The old English dining-room was large in its general proportions, and heavy and rich as to its details; it was so large and impressive that there was an offshoot which took form in a breakfast-room. In our homes at this time we have the compromise. Our habits of living do not demand the breakfast-room: all come to breakfast together, and the requirement is the same as for other meals. Where one wishes to have a wood ceiling panelled or with decorated beams, the dining-room, or the hall connecting with it, may be chosen as the proper place to be treated in this way. Where expense is not a great object, it is agreeable to have a large part of the walls finished in wood. A wood finish one-half to two-thirds the height of the wall, and a ceiling of wood above, with the intervening space finished in rough, tinted plaster, gives a very pleasing effect. Projecting from the top of the wood wall-finish may be a little shelf extending, say, five inches beyond the wall. It may have a simple moulded edge. In the top may be cut grooves; on the under edge may be arranged, at regular intervals, cup hooks, which may be used in part for suspending china, or, upon certain occasions, as a means of securing floral decorations--say, a little train of ivy or smilax. On the upper part of the shelf are placed pieces of china. This shelf may be placed in any dining-room; if not around the entire room, between two windows, or between the chimney breast and the adjacent wall. Six feet from the floor is a good height. If it is not overloaded, or if the idea is not generally overworked, the effect will be very satisfactory. The coloring of a dining-room may be a little heavier and richer than that of the other rooms. A very pretty feature which maybe introduced in a room of this kind is a china-closet, which opens into the dining-room as well as into the china-room adjoining. The dining-room side of the china-closet should be glazed with clear glass above its lower section, and the china-room or back side of the china-closet should be glazed with cathedral glass of a semi-transparent character. There are doors on hinges on each side. The drawers in the lower part, if provided, open from both sides. If doors are used they should be arranged in the same way, so that the lower shelves may be approached from both dining-room and china-room. The glass door on the dining-room side should not come down to the shelf at the top of the lower section, but should be arranged to leave an open space, as is indicated in the chapter on kitchens and pantries. However, the doors on the china-room side of this closet should come down, so as to cut off communication between dining-room and china-room at will. This space between the upper and lower section of the china-closet gives space in which to set a tray, and, by opening a door on the back, it acts as a slide between the china-room and dining-room. This arrangement is not only very beautiful, but very useful. See china-closet plan Fig. 5, page 46. The conservatory mentioned does not need to be in conventional conservatory form, which usually has cheap glazing and often common wood-work, but may be a bay-window with more than an ordinary amount of glass, preferably plate. The chambers and bedrooms, in their ideal form of arrangement, have an abundance of light and sun, ample means for ventilation, and a greater air of restfulness and airiness than the rooms below. The carpets are in lighter tints, the walls more nearly white, the windows not so heavily draped, the pictures and frames of a lighter character, the chairs not so heavy as those of the other rooms. From a chamber it is sometimes desirable to have a bay window projecting from side or front. It adds to the availability of the other floor space, affords additional light and ventilation. Nothing can be nicer than a grate fire in a bedroom. It should be surrounded with a wood mantel, with tile facing and hearth. Above the mantel it is useful to have a short plate-glass mirror. A dressing-case takes its proper place on the side wall between two windows, or in a corner with a window in each wall adjacent to it. Bedrooms are, for the most part, lighted with brackets rather than central lights. When attainable, a small dressing-room adds to the attractiveness of a chamber. In some houses there may be an alcove, a bay window, a window-seat, a conservatory, or something of this kind, from every principal room. These are features which add to the beauty and attractiveness of the house. While all of these things are not possible in every home, some one or two of them may be attainable. In mentioning the various details which go to make the beauty of a house, it is in mind that all these features can be taken into account in but a very small proportion of all the houses that are built, yet some one or more of them may be used in every house, and thereby add to its attractiveness. CHAPTER XIV. EXTERNAL AND INTERNAL DESIGN.--AN OLD TOPIC BEFORE THE PEOPLE.--THE ARCHITECTURAL STUDENT'S DREAM.--A BEAUTIFUL HOME THE HOUSEKEEPER'S AMBITION.--IT COSTS NO MORE TO HAVE A HOUSE BEAUTIFUL THAN UGLY.--ARCHITECTURAL EDUCATION.--CHARLES EASTLAKE'S BOOK.--VULGAR ARCHITECTURAL REVIVALS.--THE GROWTH OF THE ARTISTIC IDEA.--BEAUTY A MATTER OF REFINEMENT. It often happens when one gives especial attention to a particular branch of a subject his neglect in other lines is measured by the depth of his attention to the particular branch. Matters which have to do with the utilitarian features of house-building are considered in this work much more fully in the text, than has the appearance of the buildings. It is desired that this fact will not lead any one to believe that matters relating to the appearance of the exterior have been neglected. Domestic architecture is an old topic before the people. It is old in what has been said in regard to the appearance of the buildings. The subject, as a science to the architect, is new when considered from the standpoint of convenience. The architectural student's dream is not of kitchens, pantries, closets, convenient and economical arrangements of floor space, but is principally of large public buildings, libraries, court-houses, and cathedrals. When he descends to dwelling-houses, it is of something unique, or odd,--something that is pretty or rich. When it relates to details, it is hallways that are peculiar in their beauty, parlors and sitting-rooms that are full of odd conceits. There has been a tendency toward strange things during recent years. Matters of this kind have fed the fancy of many architects. The housekeeper has been neglected. Nothing attracts more attention than a beautiful house. It is a pleasure to every one. It is as important to have a house beautiful as it is that it should be convenient. The same education and thoughtfulness that will enable an architect to design a convenient house will make it beautiful. No one can be conscientious in the consideration of the comfort of the housekeeper and neglect the smallest detail leading to the beauty of the house. The housekeeper lives in the hope of having a beautiful home. It has been the purpose, in writing this book, to bear all this in mind, and to add the element of convenience to what has been said and done by others toward making beautiful houses. It costs no more to have a house beautiful than to have it ugly. Beauty, like convenience, is largely a matter of thoughtfulness and education. The only excuse for ugliness in house-building is ignorance. The student of architecture has had a great deal done for him. And, in considering that which has to do with appearance, he has only to accept the advantages of the best architectural schools and offices. Without these he cannot expect to succeed. To be a designer of beautiful houses, one must have had the same special training and advantages that are necessary for success in other lines of professional work. A physician must know the history of his profession, aside from the more formal knowledge which leads him through his practice. It is the same way with the student of architecture. The successful designer of a small cottage will do better from having a knowledge of the history of early architecture. Such a knowledge is indispensable, in order to reach the best results. One who has made a study of Greek architecture is much better equipped to design a beautiful low-cost cottage, of four or five rooms, than one who has not availed himself of these advantages. He will make a better house for the same money. He will do better work with simpler means. To take another illustration: We may suppose that an architect has a porch to design, and that the owner of the house does not have a great deal of money to put in it. There are four turned columns, a cornice, with a rafter finish, and underneath, a space in which may be inserted a small band of inexpensive scroll-work. A knowledge of the earlier architecture comes to his assistance in a wonderful way. For the turning on the columns the architect may select that from a column of the early English Gothic architecture of the fourteenth century. These are simple profiles, which can be turned at no greater cost, if the drawing is furnished, than some crude, modern invention of the turner or an uneducated designer. For the jig or scroll saw work, he can arrange figures from some of the earlier ornamental forms of the same period, and by drawing them full size the scroll-sawyer can reproduce a beautiful design, which has a history, with no more labor than he would give some corrupted design which has filtered through the minds of careless house-builders. For his rafter feet, this designer will have no difficulty in recalling some simple form which has had a refined development. This same line of procedure can be followed in all details of house-building, and not add one dollar to the cost of the structure. At the same time it brings about most beautiful results,--the results of successful experience. It may be said again that it takes no more money to make a beautiful detail--one which has been the development of experience and refinement--than it does something which is clumsy and coarse. It requires, however, a knowledge of what has been done,--a knowledge of the history of design. It requires the faculty of using intelligently the results of the past, not merely as they originally existed, but in their adaptation to the wants and conditions of the present. Several years ago Mr. Charles Eastlake wrote a book entitled "Hints on Household Taste." The book accomplished a great deal, by merely leading people to think. To this day there are a great many architectural features which, in the builder's parlance, go under the name of "Eastlake" designs. There are so-called Eastlake doors, Eastlake frames, etc. In truth, Mr. Eastlake had little to say about architecture in a distinctive sense, and many evil things have been perpetrated in his name. The best thing that Mr. Eastlake did was to teach people that the furniture and other things which they had around them could be beautiful and not expensive. That it was not necessary to have a chair or a piece of wood-work loaded down with something called ornament, in order to be beautiful. After this people lost confidence in the furniture manufacturer, and did not depend solely on the price of his wares as a measure of their elegance or attractiveness. This was the sole work of Charles Eastlake, with the masses of the people. He was a missionary in his way. A man of no particular knowledge in regard to architecture or design, yet one who was the means of doing a great deal for architecture. He taught people to look for beauty in simple things. After a time came a certain something in domestic architecture which was designated as the "Queen-Anne" style. We all know what it is, yet it is difficult to describe. The veritable Queen-Anne architecture meant something; the "Queen-Anne" architecture of a few years ago meant anything--particularly something that was pointed, erratic, and unusual. It, however, did a good work. It enabled the architects to get out of the old beaten paths. A great many beautiful houses were built, which, by the public, were said to be in this style. The name "Queen Anne" was the vehicle for the passage from an old conservatism, which had to do only with the commonplace, to something which was fresh and attractive. In this way a great many beautiful houses were built during this so-called Queen-Anne revival. More recently there has been a movement toward the revival of the old colonial architecture--a style that was developed by a class of educated builders among the earlier settlers of this country. Their knowledge was particularly of classic architecture of the period of the Italian renaissance. A great many strange and unusual things are being perpetrated in the name of old colonial architecture at this time. At the same time, a great deal that is beautiful and refined is being built in this style. In the work of the very recent period which has to do with this architecture, one may find a great deal of encouragement. It shows a decided re-action from the extravagant crudeness of the so-called Queen-Anne architecture, and in the end we will reach something that is rational and beautiful. Thus it is to be seen that, in whatever lines architecture is moving, we shall find good work; that it is not so much the style that it is named, as the resources of the designer: resources which have to do with his education, and his disposition to select that which is fine and beautiful--the sense which leads him to discriminate. [Illustration: FIGURE B.] PLANS OF FIFTY CONVENIENT HOUSES. CHAPTER XV. EVOLUTION OF A HOUSE-PLAN.--RESPECTABLE DIMENSIONS FOR A MODERATE PRICE.--SIX PLANS.--COSTS, FROM $1,500 TO $2,600. The number of times that a house has been built indicates the popularity of the plan. Plan No. 1, in one form or another, has been used oftener than any other in the book. Plans Nos. 1, 2, and 3 are more frequently selected by people who do not keep a servant. This arrangement makes a compact and low-cost house. There is a porch over which the small front bedroom extends on the second story. In Plan No. 1 the hall is seven and one-half by ten feet. There is a corner grate for the living-room and the parlor. A stove might be used in the dining-room in a way to moderate the temperature of the entire lower floor. There is one very large window opening into the dining-room. It is a very pleasing thing to have the upper sash of the dining-room glazed with simple colors of cathedral glass. This glass gives a very pleasant tone to the light of the room, and, at the same time, excludes the hot rays of the sun in summer. It is possible to dispense with outside shutters when cathedral glass is used in the upper sashes. A metal rod running across the window on the inside, on a level with the horizontal dividing-rail of the window, may be made to carry curtains which will exclude the view from the outside. Thus, in the glass, and by the aid of the curtains, we have much that might be expected from the shutters. There is a china-pantry between the kitchen and dining-room. It is lighted by a small window at one side. It serves as a passageway between these two rooms, and thus keeps the odor of the cooking from the front part of the house. The pastry pantry is immediately back of the china-pantry, and is entered from the kitchen. It is also provided with a small window. In the kitchen is a sink with a swinging table at one side, and room for a portable table on the other. At one side of the sink may be the cistern-pump, and on the other side the well-pump. It should be placed back against the wall, and with handles that are well out of the way when not in use. [Illustration: Plan No. 1.] It is entirely unnecessary to place the pumps in the yards of low-cost houses, as is so common. If a driven well is used, it could be driven so as to be next to the kitchen sink. If it is a dug well, it may be placed on the outside, and connected through lead pipes with the sink on the inside. The cistern may be connected in the same way. The entrance to the cellar stairs is conveniently placed in one corner of the kitchen. The cellar itself is under the sitting-room. The side-porch is large enough to be used as a summer kitchen. [Illustration: Plan No. 2.] It is to be noticed that there is no waste room in the upstairs hall. There is merely wall space enough to admit of doors leading into the various rooms. There is a small window which lights this hall; the window may be reached for cleaning from the stairway. This plan illustrates as clearly as possible the advantage of having the main stairway land in the middle of the house. There is no better way to economical use of space. From the second-floor hall there is a stairway leading to the attic. This passage is lighted in the same way as the second-floor hall. [Illustration: Plan No. 3.] It may be said that the bedrooms of this house are not large. The house is not large. The problem involved a low-cost, roomy house. We get a large number of rooms within a small enclosure, and, necessarily, some of them are small. It is to be borne in mind, however, that the value of a room is not dependent upon its size. A room may be of respectable dimensions, but yet not have the necessary wall space for the furniture. Such a room would not be as satisfactory as a smaller one, had care been taken to provide this space. In each bedroom there should be space for a bed, a wash-stand, and a dressing-case. The latter should be near a window. It will be found that there is room for such furniture in each of the bedrooms shown on this plan. All are provided with ample closets. In one of these houses which was built, there was a door between the bedroom in front and the chamber. In another case, there was a door connecting the two larger rooms. All these things are matters of personal preference, or special family requirements, depending upon the age and number of the children, and other family conditions. [Illustration: Plan No. 4.] Plan No. 2 is similar to No. 1, excepting that there are a few changes in detail. The rooms are smaller; the hall is relatively shorter; it illustrates the process of contraction. No. 3 is similar to No. 2, excepting that it has a front as well as a rear stairway, and the position of the dining-room is changed. No. 4 is a development of the same class of plans. There are the front and the rear stairways, also a bath-room over the kitchen, and a servant's room. The dotted lines running through the little bedroom on the second floor indicate the position of a hall, which may be constructed connecting the front and rear part of this house. As will be noticed, this is a nine-room house in a very economical form. [Illustration: Plan No. 5.] Plan No. 5 is a further development and improvement of the same idea. The objection that one may raise to any of the plans just described is, that one has to pass through the parlor, or the room in the rear of the hall, to reach the room back of the parlor. Plan No. 5 solves this problem. From the hall we can go into the living-room, the dining-room or parlor, without passing through another room. The second floor is an improvement over No. 4, in that the little bedroom in the rear is enlarged by allowing it to project over the room below the width of the hall. In the rear of this comes the bath-room. [Illustration: FIGURE 10.] As to cost. The building, without appurtenances, on the basis outlined in schedule "B," would cost as follows:-- Plan No. 1, $1,700; No. 2, $1,550; No. 3, $1,550; No. 4, $1,800; No. 5, $1,900. Figures 8 and 9 are elevations suited to these plans. [Illustration: Plan No. 6] Plan No. 6 had its origin in Plan No. 1, and was developed through the successive stages indicated in the description of plans from 1 to 5 inclusive. The position of the grate-stack has been changed, so that it acts for the reception-hall on one side, and the parlor on the other. The reception-hall, instead of receding, projects. In one corner thereof is arranged a vestibule, partitioned from the rest of the rooms by ornamental fret-work backed with curtains. This will make a very beautiful feature. It changes this hall into a room. From here we may pass to the parlor, sitting-room, and dining-room. In the rear of the sitting-room is a porch; at one side, a projecting window-seat. The sitting-room closet is cut off from the pantry. The dining-room is connected with the sitting-room by sliding-doors. A convenient china-closet connects the dining-room and kitchen. On one side of the china-room are arranged drawers. Under the china-closet proper are shelves enclosed by panelled doors; the china-shelves above being protected by glass doors, according to the general ideas previously expressed when considering the china-closet in particular. The kitchen is the same as others, which are described elsewhere in a more detailed way. There is a laundry in the basement, and an outside cellar-way connecting with the back yard. The inside cellar-way is shown. The next door is that which leads to the second floor. There are five bedrooms on this floor. The elevation of this house is shown in Fig. No. 11. The building, without appurtenances, according to schedule "B," costs $2,600. [Illustration: Fig. 8] [Illustration: Fig. 9] Elevations Nos. 1 and 2 indicate a simple form of exterior, which may go with either of these plans excepting No. 3. The photographic view, Fig. No. 10, shows an exterior of No. 1, as built at one time. [Illustration: Fig. 11.] CHAPTER XVI. A SMALL POCKET-BOOK AND A LARGE IDEA.--AMBITION, DOLLARS, AND A GOOD HOUSE.--THE GROWTH OF THE HOUSEKEEPER'S IDEAS.--POINTS ABOUT THE HOUSE.--$2,900. It is frequently said of those who would build, that their ideas are larger than their pocket-books. It is certainly not discreditable to any one that his ideas should be larger than his immediate resources. Such a condition causes the enlargement of the individual and his pocket-book at the same time. The man who says that he wants two thousand dollars' worth of house does not get as much for his money as he who in effect says, "I want three thousand dollars' worth of house for two thousand dollars." The latter is an ambitious man; the former has only a little ambition. He merely wants a house. Fortunately, however, there are few such people. It is more likely to happen that a man and his wife, who have worked hard for several years, get enough money together to build a home, and it is possible that this home has been talked about for several years previous to their building. In fact, they have been educating themselves in house-building. They have acquainted themselves with all of the modern conveniences. They have studied porches, vestibules, and stairways; they know how many rooms they want on the first floor and the bedrooms that they will have above. At first this house presents itself in a very crude form; but in the course of time the plan shows itself more clearly to them. They begin to place the furniture in the imaginary rooms, and as they do this their ideas enlarge. They add at first inches, and then feet, to the size of the various rooms. At first their ideas of a kitchen were quite moderate; in time a sink begins to assume certain vague outlines, then it takes definite form on one side of the room; then a pump is placed beside it; afterward the wife says, "How nice it would be if we could have a hot-water faucet over the sink." At first they shake their heads and say that it would cost too much; but in the course of a few evenings' talk on this and kindred subjects, they come to the conclusion that if the hot-water arrangements do not cost too much, they will have them; and that as things are so much cheaper than they used to be, they certainly ought to get all of these for about what they originally expected to pay for the house. Their ideas have been of slow growth, but continuous, and in the aggregate the growth has been great. During all the winter months, previous to the time when they would build in the spring, many sketches are made, of the floor-plans of the house that is to be. Finally the net result is handed to a builder or an architect,--more frequently the former, as most small houses are built without professional service. The figures from the builder come in, and are very much higher than was expected. It is quite a shock, for certainly there is nothing there that they can well do without. Everything has been thought of so much. Nothing that their plan contains appears to them to be less than a matter of necessity. Other builders are asked to figure with results little more satisfactory. In the end there must be a compromise; the builder and the owner both yield, and, as a result, a very satisfactory house is built. There are little things which they would have different, but, in the main, the house is satisfactory. This is the universal experience, and the effect upon the domestic architecture of this country has been very pronounced. We can now get a better house for a given sum of money than ever before. Better not only as to general construction, but as well on account of external appearance, and the convenience of its internal arrangements. One may get more of what are regarded as the little conveniences, which mean so much to the housekeeper. This is not altogether the result of lower prices of the material and labor which go to make a house, but is as well on account of the skill which has been developed in planning and arranging buildings, with reference to economy in space, and cost of general construction. The planning of houses has undergone a revolution within a few years past; and instead of having the long, narrow halls at the side and in the middle of a house, and the long halls and narrow passages through the upper floor, all of which was ugly and inconvenient, we now have the same area thrown in large square rooms, so as to be available. It may be known that chimney stacks are quite expensive. For this reason an effort has been made to group them, so that they may be made to answer for a number of rooms; and the success with which efforts in this direction have been attended has been wonderful indeed. The modern floor plan is altogether different from that of the past; it is more convenient and less expensive to build; and, as said before, this is largely the result of efforts of the owner, who has ideas larger than his pocket-book, and the architect or builder, who exercises his ingenuity to bring the ideas and the money together. [Illustration: Plan No. 7] Plan No. 7 is of an eight-room house, and is fairly representative of the ideas expressed. The general form, it will be seen, is square. It is a two-story house with a reception-hall, parlor, dining-room, kitchen, china-closet, pantry, and stair-hall on the first floor; there are three chambers, the servant's bedroom, the bath-room, and a communicating hall on the second floor. The first floor is ten feet six inches high, and the second, nine feet six inches. From the second floor there is a stairway going to the attic, which is large and roomy, and which may have various uses. The cellar is seven feet high, and is well lighted by having the joist set well up from the grade line. There may be a laundry here, and, separated from it by a door, we may have a coal-cellar and a furnace-room. As we approach the house, there is, first, a broad porch about eight feet in width, and fourteen feet in length. At a slight additional expense, say fifty dollars to sixty dollars, this porch might be extended across the entire front. Before reaching the front door, there is a small vestibule,--arranged with or without storm-doors, as may be thought desirable. It is the impression of the writer that storm-doors are seldom used. The distinctive feature of this house is the hall, which is large enough--thirteen feet six inches by fifteen feet--to be used as a sitting-room. In the front part of this hall, and at the right as we enter, are a window-seat and a broad window in front and immediately above it; this is slightly separated from the main room by the small pilasters or casings on each side. Immediately in front of the doorway, there are a grate and mantel set in one corner of the room. There are large doorways, five feet wide, leading into the stair-hall immediately back of this room, and into the parlor at the left as we enter. In this case there are merely door openings, portières or curtains taking the place of ordinary doors. Sliding-doors might be used in addition to the curtains, and thus have the advantage of both curtains and doors. From this room the outlines of the stair-hall and the stairway are visible or not, according to the arrangement of the portières. There is a side entrance into this hall, and from it one may go into the kitchen by passing through two doors. It is a good principle in planning a house always to have two doors between the kitchen and any other part of the house. One door could as well be used in this instance, but a second one is added to make the isolation more complete. In the plan here given, it may be noticed that there are cellar stairs passing under the main stairway in the hall. The dining-room may be entered either from the front parlor or from the stair-hall. In each case doors are used. It is always desirable to have a dining-room so arranged that it may be closed from the other parts of the house. There is a grate in each of the two principal rooms, the hall, the parlor, and the dining-room, and all communicate with a single stack. This is much more economical than having three distinct stacks, which are so frequently used for accomplishing the same result. The only other chimney stack is in the kitchen. The two answer every purpose. The outside corners of the dining-room are cut off at an angle of forty-five degrees, so that the end of the dining-room presents the form of a large bay window. In the middle space at this end may be placed the sideboard, in which event a window will be placed over it,--that is, well toward the ceiling. The dining-room communicates with the kitchen through a large pantry, eight feet square, or through a slide in the back of the china-closet. In the kitchen there are broad windows on the two sides, and a door leading into the back yard. In following the stairway to the second floor, it will be noticed that there is a broad landing something more than half-way up, and that there is a large window, slightly above it, which lights the hall below, and partially lights the one above. The advantages of having a stairway which lands approximately in the centre of the house, as does this one, is that no room is lost by having long halls which have to lead from the front to the rear of the house. All we need have is a short hall in the centre of the building, which will communicate with the rooms around it. Another convenience of this arrangement is that all of the front of the house is utilized for chambers. Where the stairway lands in the front of a house, there must either be a long hall, which is a waste of room, or one must pass through one or more chambers to get to others. In this plan the rooms are arranged around the hall, there being three large ones over the three principal rooms below. In each of these chambers there is abundant space for the usual bedroom furniture,--viz., a bed, dresser, wash-stand, and chairs. In these rooms there are closets, and at the end of the hall there is a store closet for bedding, etc. The servant's room, as shown, is over the kitchen, as is also the bath-room. [Illustration: Fig. 12.] It may be noticed that the fixtures in the bath-room--that is, the bath-tub and closet--are directly over the sink below, so that the pipes may have the most direct and the shortest runs possible, which is not only economical, but also safer from flooding in case of accident. The tank in the attic, which contains the soft or cistern water, is directly over the tub, and the laundry sink in the cellar is directly under the kitchen sink. Thus, from cellar to attic, all the plumbing fixtures are in line, and all pipes exactly vertical, excepting where it is desirable to take a short branch to connect the fixtures. Having the bath-room slightly separated, as it is, from the main hall, it is safer, from a sanitary point of view, than if it opened directly into the main hall. There is a closet for soiled linen next to the bath-room, which is accessible either from it or from the short hall leading to it. The stairs to the attic lead out of the hall, as shown. The attic is floored, but is otherwise unfinished. If found desirable, one or more rooms could be finished here, which would be quite as large and pleasant as any of the other rooms in the house. This house can be finished complete, including fences, sheds, walks, gas fixtures, plumbing, mantels, and furnace, for $2,900. Fig. No. 12 is an elevation. CHAPTER XVII. "WE KNOW WHAT WE WANT."--A CONVENIENT PLAN.--MEETING THE WANTS OF PEOPLE WHO BUILD. Floor plans develop from the varying necessities of those who build. There is no reason why the same arrangement should suit any large number of people. A floor plan, if carefully and thoughtfully made, will meet the requirements of the individuals whose wants are particularly considered. While there are certain general principles, which affect the value of a floor plan for good or evil, the detailed requirements are almost as varied as the tastes and dispositions of the occupants. A lady and gentleman come into an architect's office, and explain that they are intending to build, and want to look at something with a view of selecting a plan. The architect has a great many plans which he might show them, but he knows well enough that none of them will be selected. He says:-- "I shall be glad to show you anything I have, but not with the expectation of finding something that will please you. By doing so, I shall probably find out what you do not want, and in that negative way meet your requirements." "I think I know what we want," says the lady, "but I do not know just how to arrange it. The stairways bother me, and there are things which I do not get to suit me." "Well, tell me what, you want, and then we will make a sketch; and from that, corrections; and, in the end, we shall probably have something satisfactory, though not wholly so at once." "Before we go any farther," says the gentleman, "I want to say that we have only twenty-five hundred dollars to put into a house." "Yes, that is all we can afford," says the lady; "but I can tell you what we want." The architect reaches for a note-book and a piece of paper. "We want a reception-hall, with a grate and stairway in it. There must be a small vestibule, with a place for overshoes, hats, and overcoats. Somewhere near the reception-hall, or in it, I want a closet where I can put my own wraps, and those of the children, and other things which I do not care to keep upstairs, and yet wish to have out of the way. It does not need to be a large closet, but must not be unusually small. We want a parlor and dining-room, which connect with the reception-hall. The parlor will be used as a sitting-room not a little, but not in the ordinary way, for the reason that I stay upstairs with the children most of the time. I do my sewing there. If I should use the parlor regularly as the sitting-room, I could receive my callers in the reception-hall. It would be nice if we could have some kind of a window-seat in that room. We want a grate in the sitting-room, but not necessarily one in the dining-room. I want a back stairway, but it must not go up directly from the kitchen. The kitchen and pantry I want you to make as convenient as possible in a house of this cost." "How would a combination stairway do?" "Oh, I don't want that at all. It would be bringing the two together. I want the rear stairway in the rear of the house, and entirely separate from the one in front. It should land near the girl's room on the second floor, so that it can be cut off from the rest of the house. We must have plenty of closet-room upstairs." "How many children have you?" "Two: a baby and a little boy about six years old." "Then you must have at least four bedrooms," was suggested. "For the present, the baby can sleep in your room, and the boy in a room next to and connecting with it. There must also be a guest's room and a servant's room." "Yes, that will have to do for the present; but don't forget the bath-room, and be sure to have plenty of closets. There is one thing I had almost forgotten. There must be some arrangement so that the servant can get from the kitchen to the front door without going through the dining-room; but we don't want the smells of the kitchen to get into the front part of the house." After two or three sketches had been made, the result, as here illustrated, was reached. The architect has it in mind that the space at the right of the entrance door in the vestibule would serve as a place for overcoats and other winter equipments. He suggests that a portière be placed between the vestibule and the opening leading into the reception-hall. This will prevent draughts of cold air from making their way into the front room when the door is opened. It will also lend a certain amount of privacy. The porch is placed in front, as a matter of course. In the recess of the hall which is made by the vestibule a window-seat is placed. In the rear of the reception-hall is the closet required. As a means of getting from the kitchen to the reception-hall without passing through the dining-room, two doors are arranged leading to a passage under the stairs. This will prevent the passage of kitchen odors over the house. The parlor and dining-room are arranged as shown. Between the window and the door leading to the china-closet is space for the sideboard. The pantry is separated from the china-closet by the cupboard of the former. It has doors above and shelves below. The ice-chest is placed in the pantry. It is readily accessible from both china-closet and kitchen. [Illustration: Plan No. 8.] The passageway to the second floor is from this room, and, considering the limited means and large general requirements, this arrangement will no doubt be satisfactory. The stairway is accessible from both dining-room and kitchen. As there is a bath-room and water-closet above, there is no necessity for carrying slops downstairs and through the kitchen. The kitchen has the usual fittings. The passage to the cellar is under the front stairway. As will be remembered, there is a door shutting this passage from the reception-hall. Upstairs there is a closet in each room, two opening into the hall--one for bed linen, and one for dust-pans, brushes, etc. There is also a closet in the bath-room. The attic stairway is shown. An inspection of Plan No. 8 will show how all of the requirements were met. Cost, as per schedule "B," $2,200. CHAPTER XVIII. TWO GOOD ROOMS IN FRONT.--THE COMBINATION PANTRY.--TOO MUCH CELLAR A BURDEN.--$2,500. In Plan No. 9, the reception-room contains the front stairway. This stairway lands near the front of the house on the second floor, for which reason we are enabled to have in the front part of the house the two rooms which are most used on each floor. We have the two chambers above, and the reception-room and the sitting-room below. If we had a long, narrow stair hall constructed in the usual way, we should have the sitting-room towards the rear, and only a little alcove bedroom over the hall in front. The dining-room, which is a large room, is connected with the front part of the house by sliding-doors. It has a grate in one corner of it. On general principles, a grate has no business in the dining-room. It is nearly always at some one's back, and makes him uncomfortable at meal time. Being in the corner of the room, it is farther from any one than it would be if located on a side wall: hence it may be allowed. There is a porch in the rear of the dining-room, and between the door leading to it and the door to the china-closet there is a space for a side-board. There are two windows at the end of this dining-room. The door which passes into the pantry should be on double spring-hinges, so that it will swing both ways. One can push against it and open from either side, and when it is released it will take its natural position. [Illustration: Plan No 9.] The pantry is a large one. Pantries, in general, may be regarded as a kitchen annex--a store-room and preparing-room. This pantry is on the combination plan. It connects with the china-closet by means of a slide. Aside from this china-closet, which projects into it, there is a cupboard with double doors at one end, a flour-bin at the side, a pastry table next to it, and a refrigerator by the window. One reason for placing this refrigerator near the window is, that a flight of steps and a platform might be arranged on the outside, so that the iceman could put in the ice without going through the kitchen. We go down cellar from this pantry. [Illustration: Fig. 13.] There is a cellar under about half of this house--the kitchen and the dining-room. It should have a cemented floor, and numerous windows for lighting it. The part under the kitchen could be used for a laundry, that under the dining-room for coal storage and furnace. There could be an excavation under a part of the sitting-room for vegetable storage. "Why not put a cellar under the whole house? It would cost but little more," has been asked many times. It is the little things, the smaller economies, in a building of this kind which makes the difference between an expensive house and a house of moderate cost. Every foot of cellar space beyond what is needed for actual use is a burden to the housekeeper. The arrangement has more to do with the number of apartments than with the amount of space. We have a laundry-room, a place for furnace and fuel, and a room for vegetables, which is about all that can be used. From the cellar we can go up the stairway and into the kitchen, from the kitchen to the second floor, and from the second floor to the attic. It is a large attic, a place for large rooms if one should need them. Under any circumstances this attic should be floored. There could be no better place for general storage, and at times for drying clothes. It seldom happens that two houses from exactly the same plan are built. While this plan has pleased many people, there are others who would not be attracted by it; who would not care to build this house as their home. The universal floor plan has never been made, and never will be. There are general principles running through all plans which are valuable, and if rightly understood will contribute to the improvement of the homes of the people. Fig. 13 is an elevation. Cost, without appurtenances, $2,500, as per schedule "B." CHAPTER XIX. SITTING-ROOM AND PARLOR IN FRONT.--A CONNECTING VESTIBULE.--A CENTRAL COMBINATION STAIRWAY.--GOOD ROOMS IN THE ATTIC. When we say that the sitting-room should be in the front part of the house, it does not necessarily imply that the parlor should be disturbed. As shown in Plan No. 10, they may both be in front. The vestibule, which is large enough for a hat-rack, and for the occupants of the house to stand while putting on their overshoes and wraps, is in front of both parlor and reception-room, but yet in a way so as not to disturb the view to the street from either of these rooms. We cannot have all of the rooms in front. The kitchen we do not want there. The dining-room is convenient if placed immediately in the rear of the sitting-room. Thus we have two rooms in front and two in the rear. This is practically a square house. The old habit has been to place the stairway along one side of the parlor in the hall which served as a passageway from the front to the rooms immediately in the rear. This distribution of halls is what has thrown the sitting-room back of the parlor. In the plan here given the change has been made so that the hall has relatively the same position that did the sitting-room in the past, though it is by no means as large. It is essentially a stair-hall, and incidentally a passage. As placed, we may enter it from the parlor, sitting-room, dining-room, or kitchen. Its position is central. There are two doors between this stair-hall and the kitchen. The central position of the stairway has other advantages than those just stated. It makes long halls on the second floor entirely unnecessary. As will be seen by looking at the floor plan, it gives two good bedrooms in front. [Illustration: Plan No 10.] The dining-room is immediately in the rear of the sitting-room. There may be sliding doors connecting these two rooms. One door, three and a half feet wide, usually makes a sufficiently large opening for the dining-room connection. There are sliding doors between the parlor and sitting-room, and dining-room and sitting-room, as shown. The kitchen has the advantage of a certain amount of isolation from the rest of the house, for the reason that there are two doors between it and any other room. The pantries are arranged with reference to their most convenient use. In the kitchen-pantry there are places for a refrigerator, flour-bin, bread-board, and cupboard. The dining-room pantry is a china-closet, with glass doors above and closed doors below. The doors connecting the dining-room pantry or passage should be hung on double-spring hinges. In the plan of this house it is shown how we may go from the kitchen to the same landing that is used for the main stairway, and thus avoid the necessity for a distinctively back hall and back stairway. However, if it is so desired, it is easy to place a stairway in the rear, and thus have them entirely independent. In that event a room may be placed over the pantry, and be used by the servant. This part of the house could be cut off from the front rooms and the bath-room on the second floor by a door. But to take the house as it is, we have a combination stairway, there being two doors separating the kitchen approach from the common landing in the main stair-hall. On the second floor there is a hall about fourteen feet long from which we pass to two bedrooms in front, two in the rear, the bath-room and the store-closet. Each room is independent. They may be connected one with the other as family necessities suggest. The store-closet is accessible from the hall, as such a closet should be. This makes it available from any of the rooms. The bath-room is directly over the kitchen. In each bedroom there is a place for a bed, a dressing-case, and a wash-stand, which is not always the case in bedrooms. If there is a place for these things, if the dressing-case bears its proper relation to the sources of light, if it is so placed that the light from the window or from the gas shines in the face of the user, if the wash-stand is conveniently disposed, and there is room at the side of it for a slop-jar, if there is a large closet, then the architect has done his full duty in the arrangement of the bedroom. The room that is called the family room should be especially well cared for in the matter of closets. A hundred dollars would lath and plaster the entire attic of this house, and provide a room in the front part which could be used by the boys or the servant. There is no objection to this except in the necessity for climbing an extra pair of stairs. The mere mention of a bedroom in the attic is distasteful to many people. It arouses memories of hot, dusty, and uncomfortable places in which they have passed the night. All this depends on the attic. The roof in this house is pitched at an angle of forty-five degrees. The house at the narrowest point is 29. feet wide. This would make the attic at the highest point 14-1/2 feet. We can stud down from this and have a nine-foot story and at the same time a large room, one which would have none of the disadvantages of a half-story room, and which would have all the advantages of a well-ventilated, comfortable bedroom, for summer or winter. The plastering of the attic suggests neatness. Having it well lighted by dormers exposes all disorder. Cost, as per schedule "B," $2,600. CHAPTER XX. A COMPACT PLAN.--AN ISOLATED RECEPTION-ROOM.--COMBINATION STAIRWAY.--DESCRIPTION OF THE FLOOR PLAN.--CELLAR ARRANGEMENT.--DINING-ROOM AND CONSERVATORY.--ANOTHER PLAN. The floor plans in No. 11 are of a house of small area, 30 × 34-1/2 feet, for body of the structure. There is a porch in front, a circular bay window at one side, and a pantry and china-closet projecting at the rear. In the house there are eight available rooms besides the bath-room and the attic. In the attic, rooms quite as liberal as any in the house could be constructed at a small expense. On the first floor, as we enter, there is the reception or sitting hall, which is so common in the more modern arrangements of dwellings. This reception hall or room has a certain amount of isolation from the passage which leads from the vestibule to the stairway and the rear portion of the house. It may be separated therefrom by curtains or portières. It would be entirely possible to separate the two by means of sliding doors, in which event the opening from the room into the passage would have to be a little narrower than shown in the drawings. This room could be used as the office of a physician, or of a gentleman who did more or less business at home. By making the front vestibule about six inches deeper, a separate entrance to this room could be provided. In this event, a door from the room into the passage leading to the living part of the house would be a necessity. The circular bay end of this room would present an attractive feature. The windows in this part of the room could be placed about four feet from the floor, in which event book-shelves could be arranged below them. The window in front goes to within seventeen inches of the floor. Under the stairway, and leading from this room, may be placed a very liberal closet, in which there should be a small window. Leading from the passage is the stairway, and two closets. The little passage in which one closet is placed is separated from the hall by a door. There is another door opening from this passage into the kitchen. Thus there are two doors between the kitchen and the front part of the house. This arrangement has in mind the isolation of the kitchen from the other rooms in a way to prevent the passage of the usual kitchen odors. [Illustration: Plan No 11.] The stairways in this house are of the class known as combination stairways; while they are convenient and easy of construction, there is a certain amount of complication in their arrangement which makes them difficult of description so as to be understood by those not accustomed to examining floor plans. There is the stairway from the front hall to the floor above, and one from the kitchen to the landing of the front stairway. The landing of the front stairway and that from the kitchen stairway is in common; that is, it is the same. For the purpose of making this understood, it may be well to say that one may go up the stairway from the front hall to the landing, some eight steps, and from thence down into the kitchen, or he can turn right face and go to the landing on the second floor. This part of the stairs is used coming up from the kitchen as well as from the front hall. However, the kitchen stairway is separated from the landing by a door. There is another door at the foot of this kitchen stairway. In coming downstairs, one may turn to the right, open a door, and go down into the kitchen; or, he may turn to the left, and go down the front stairway into the hall. Thus it will be seen that the combination stairway is a front and rear stairway together, with separate entrance from both parts of the house,--one from the kitchen, and one from the front hall. It must be confessed that there is a certain amount of compromise in an arrangement of this kind, but it is a saving of both space and money, and is tolerable on this account. By this plan everything is concentrated, and without the serious drawback which extra cost, or a smaller number of rooms, would imply to those who have only a little over two thousand dollars to spend for a house, without appurtenances. The head room for the stairway, coming up from the kitchen, is secured under the bath-tub in the bath-room immediately above. The cellar stairway is clearly indicated as going down parallel to the kitchen stairs and under the front stairs. The cellar in this house should be under the kitchen, stairways, and the reception-hall; that is, it would occupy all of one side of the house. In this cellar plan the principles set forth in the previous chapter on cellars are carried out. [Illustration: Cellar Plan.] The parlor is thirteen and one-half by seventeen feet in size. It is connected with a hall by wide sliding doors, so that about one-half of this side of the room may be open. The grate opposite the sliding doors in the parlor would present a very beautiful view from the hall and stairway. The sliding doors between the parlor and dining-room are placed there more in deference to custom than through any personal sense of their fitness. Sliding doors do not have the quality of excluding sound or odors that is desirable. The ordinary hinged door is better in this respect. This room which would commonly be called a parlor would really be used as a living-room, excepting by those who use the dining-room or one of the second-floor chambers for that purpose. Our dining-room has an independent connection with the front hall, so that we do not have to go through the parlor or the sitting-room to reach it. A little extra money, say seventy dollars, would place a conservatory at one side, at one corner, or at the end of this dining-room. Fifty dollars would give a bay window. As it is, we have two windows of the ordinary kind at one side of the room, and none at the end. A very good arrangement, when bay or conservatory is not used, would be to take one of these windows at the side and place it at the rear end, though near the outside corner of the room. This would give space between the windows and the china-closet door for a sideboard. The window at the side of the dining-room, if the other were moved to the end, should be in the middle of the wall space; that is, opposite the centre of the flue. From the dining-room we go into the kitchen through the china-pantry, which is marked "passage." This china-pantry has a little window at one side, and at the end a separate apartment for chinaware, which is closed from the passage by means of glass doors. The doors leading from the passage into the dining-room and kitchen should be hung on double-swinging hinges. There are those who would say that there should be no door from the kitchen into the passage leading from the dining-room to the front hall. It would probably be well to retain this door in this position, and have a bolt on the side of the door toward the hall. Thus the mistress of the house can close it, and keep it closed at will. Another thing that might be done would be to place a strong spring on this door which would always keep it closed. The windows in this kitchen should be placed about three feet from the floor, so that tables may be placed under them. There is a place for a gas-stove between the two windows, or even under them if desirable. The porch at the rear of the kitchen may be enclosed with lattice work, or, what is better, coarse louvered slats, like those of a shutter. In either event, it could be covered with screen wire, and made a part of the kitchen in summer. In the plan, however, nothing of this kind is indicated. The door which leads from the porch into the pantry is a small one, placed above the ice-chest, and is for the use of the ice-man. [Illustration: Plan No 12.] The arrangement of rooms upstairs will be readily understood. Leading out of the hall is a store closet for bedding, etc. It is located so as to be accessible from all rooms. From the front end of the hall a door leads into the stair passage to the attic. Plan No. 12 is the outgrowth of Plan No. 11. In it there is a lift running from cellar to attic, as shown. The only important difference between it and No. 11 is in the size of the library. Cost, as per schedule "B," $2,600. Fig. 14 is an elevation: see page 147. CHAPTER XXI. WHAT CAN BE DONE FOR $1,600?--THE CLOSET IN THE HALL.--A SMALL CONVENIENT KITCHEN.--CLOSETS IN THE BEDROOMS. This house--Plan No. 13--was finished at a cost of less than $1,600. This included, besides the house itself, a woodshed, well, and cistern. There is a cellar under the hall and parlor. The building has a brick foundation, and the wood-work begins two feet above the grade. The stud-walls of the exterior are lined, first with dressed sheathing, then with heavy building-paper, and finally covered with weather-boarding. The first and second tiers of joists are two by ten inches; the ceiling-joists of the second story are two by eight inches. All of the studding is two by four inches. The windows have box frames with iron weights and cotton cords. The first story is ten feet high, the second eight and a half feet. These details of construction are mentioned so that any one interested may know that it is a substantial, well-constructed building. The interior finish is of pine, part of which is varnished and the remainder stained and varnished. The front door and stairway are of quartered oak. The front porch is 10-1/2 feet wide and 7-1/2 feet deep. It has a high roof over it, as will be seen by the elevation. The entrance, being at one side of the porch, gives more available space for uninterrupted use during the warm weather. The hall is 10 feet wide and 10-1/2 feet long. The stairway has first two steps to a broad landing, and then a continuous movement to the second floor. If this landing were reduced in size by making the approach more direct, say turning directly to the left as one enters the door and going through a landing the width of the stairway before making the general ascent, there would be more available room in the hall. It is shown this way in the drawing, because it is the way the house was built. There is a closet in this hall. There are many houses built without a closet on the first floor, but it is certainly better that one be provided. [Illustration: Plan No 13.] As will be seen, there are three rooms on the first floor, and four and a bath on the second. It is an easy house to care for, because there is no waste space, and all the rooms are readily accessible without extra steps. Waste room means waste of energy and waste of money in more ways than one--waste not only as to the unnecessary expenditure in the cost of building, but in carpets, and in the labor of sweeping and caring for them. [Illustration: Fig 14.] In the parlor at the right of the hall are two windows and a grate; one window is in front and the other at the side. The dining-room is similarly equipped. It has a large china-closet which connects with the table in the kitchen by means of a slide. There is also a door between the kitchen and dining-room. Eleven by twelve and a half feet is not large for a kitchen. The availability of kitchen space is not entirely dependent, however, on its dimensions, but rather upon the disposition of the wall-space and the conveniences which have to do with a kitchen. It will be seen that there is a space for the kitchen-range or stove near the flue which does not conflict with the use of any other part of the kitchen. Also there is a space between the door which leads into the pantry and an outside wall which gives place for a kitchen-safe, which may hold the kitchen utensils. It is out of the way and yet convenient to the range. The safe might be placed opposite the tables at the other end of the kitchen, if thought desirable. The kitchen window is placed about three feet above the floor. This gives wall-space under it. Where a safe is not used, a cabinet, to contain pots, kettles, etc., can be placed there. [Illustration: Plan No 14.] The pantry is quite convenient to the kitchen. There is an enclosed cupboard on one side which has doors and shelves above and below, and in the recess next to the dining-room wall is a place for open shelves. Near the pantry window is a dough-board and a place for flour. Here, also, is the entrance to the cellar. It will be seen that there is a door between the pantry and hall, which makes it possible to pass from the kitchen to the stairway or from the kitchen to the front hall without going through other rooms. The enclosed cupboard in the pantry makes it possible to keep it always tidy. There is a glazed door in the rear of the kitchen. [Illustration: Fig. 15.] It may be noticed that there is not a large hall to be carpeted or swept on the second floor. This hall is well lighted by a window at the side. From here one can go into any of the rooms on the second floor. As to the bedrooms, there is a convenient place for bedroom furniture in all of them. There is at least a choice of two places for each bed, a space for a dressing-case where it will get the best light, and room for a wash-stand. There is a closet in each bedroom, of ample capacity. The right-hand house in Fig. No. 10 shows the exterior of Plan No. 13. Plan No. 14 is another edition of Plan 15. The room lettered parlor is properly a sitting-room. By dispensing with the grate in the reception-hall this house could be built, as it was at one time, with a stairway meeting the one coming up from the dining-room and passing from thence to the second floor. The elevation of this house shows it with an attic, though the plan does not contemplate this arrangement. Without the attic and with a lower-pitched roof, this building, without appurtenances, can be finished for $1,500. Fig. 15 is an elevation of Plans No. 14 and 15. [Illustration: Plan No 15] Plans No. 13 and 15 belong to the same class. No. 15 is more elaborate in its details, and larger. From the sitting-room one passes to the landing where it meets a stairway coming up from the kitchen. From thence there is a common passage to the second floor. On this floor are four bedrooms, a bath-room, and a liberal supply of closets. One of the front chambers is supplied with two, and the hall with two. There is one in the bath-room, and each of the other rooms. The cellar and attic of this house are plastered. The building, without appurtenances, as per schedule "B," cost $2,550. Fig. No. 16 is an elevation of Plan No. 15. [Illustration: Fig. 16] CHAPTER XXII. OUTGROWTHS OF ONE IDEA.--EVERYTHING COUNTS AS A ROOM.--ONE CHIMNEY.--CONVENIENCES OF A CONDENSED HOUSE.--COST FROM $1,600 TO $2,800. Plans Nos. 16, 17, and 18 are all outgrowths of the same idea. It is the most economical general scheme for a house that is represented in this collection. In No. 16 there is not more than forty-eight square feet of hall space in the entire house. This is on the second floor. This plan was devised under an extraordinary pressure for a roomy house for a relatively small sum of money. Everything is made to count for a room. Twelve sets of plans of this general kind were made for as many different owners of houses during one season. This statement is made for the purpose of indicating its popularity. We will look through No. 16 with some respect to detail. It is a one-chimney plan. There are three grates with independent flues in the three principal rooms on the first floor, and two grates with their flues on the second floor. One among other points of economy is the stairway arrangement. It is a combination, front, rear, and cellar all in compact form. There are two doors between the kitchen and the landing of the main stairway. In this respect it is like other combination stairways which have been described. The front and rear stairway come to the same landing, and from thence to the second floor. The front stairway is provided with a railing, baluster, etc., and the one from the kitchen is within an enclosure. There may be portières between the landing and the reception-hall. Thus one may pass from the kitchen to the second floor without coming into view from this room. The cellar stairway goes down under the main stairway. The combination idea is carried out again in the pantry and china-closet. This pantry and its arrangement in detail are fully described in Chapter VI., and illustrated in Fig. 4. The vestibule next to the reception-hall is the one referred to in Chapter V. [Illustration: Plan No. 16] On the second floor are four bedrooms and a bath-room, which is immediately over the kitchen. There is a straight run of pipe in a pipe duct on the inside wall. Fig. 17 is a photographic view of the exterior. It is an ultra shingle design. [Illustration: Fig. 18.] [Illustration: Fig. 19.] [Illustration: Plan No. 17.] [Illustration: FIGURE 17.] Fig. 18 is an elevation of Plan No. 17. Fig. 19 of Plan No. 18. [Illustration: Plan No. 18.] No. 17 is the house in which the general plan was first worked out, and, in some respects, it shows that the idea was then in an experimental stage. However, it indicates a house of moderate size on this plan, whereas No. 16 is a large house. No. 18 is the small size of the same plan. It has been built many times as a rental house. With the furnace it is under lease, in one instance, for five hundred dollars a year. In other cases, without a furnace but including plumbing with the use of city water only, the rent is thirty-five dollars a month. Any of these plans can be worked into a double house by putting the bathroom on the outside, and adding to the amount of window space front and rear. The following is a list of costs, without appurtenances, as per schedule "B":-- No. 16, as a shingle house, $2,800; No. 17, $2,200; No. 18, $1,600. The latter figure includes soft-wood finish throughout. Other sizes of this house have been built where the general construction aggregated $2,400. CHAPTER XXIII. ONE-STORY PLANS.--DESCRIPTION OF FLOOR PLANS.--BATH-ROOM NEXT TO KITCHEN FLUE.--KITCHEN, PORCH, AND PANTRY.--THE EXTERIOR.--ENLARGEMENTS ON THIS PLAN.--OTHER ONE-STORY HOUSES. This house--Plan No. 19--has been built for $1,400. It is a one-story cottage, containing five rooms, a bath-room, and a pantry. Such a house is suited to young people of moderate means, or possibly to older ones, where there are no children, or where the housekeeper does her own work. It will be seen that it gives more of the conveniences of a larger house than are usually found in a cottage of this size. From the porch we pass into a little vestibule, which might be made larger by throwing into it the closet which opens from the sitting-room. From the vestibule we go either into the parlor or the sitting-room. This parlor could be used as the living-room of the house, and the sitting-room as the dining-room, and still meet all the conditions of good housekeeping. Off from the sitting-room is a projection, which could be very comfortably arranged as a window-seat. It could be used as such during warm weather, and as a place for plants in winter. In the corner of this room is a closet, which may be connected with the kitchen by a slide. There are sliding doors between the sitting-room and the bedroom. In the front part of the bedroom is a large closet. It is possible that many would prefer to have a window at this point, and have a smaller closet elsewhere; say, in the corner next to the sliding-door partition. The placing of a closet next to the rear wall would leave no place for a bed as the rooms are now arranged. If the door from the parlor to the bedroom were omitted the head of the bed might be placed against the sliding-door partition, and the closet cut out from the rear bedroom, with an opening leading into the front bedroom. [Illustration: Plan No. 19] [Illustration: Plan No. 20.] From the sitting-room, or from the front bedroom, we pass into a little hall; and from the hall into the kitchen, the bathroom, or the rear bedroom. Over each of the five doors leading into this hall there should be a transom; thus it would be well lighted. The placing of the hall in this way makes all of the rooms surrounding it independently accessible. The rear bedroom has a place for a bed, a large closet, and a wall space for necessary furniture. The availability of a bedroom is not always dependent upon its size. A room may be large, and yet not contain wall space for the furniture. A large bedroom may have a small closet. This bedroom has a large one. The bath-room comes next to the kitchen flue. This is important when we consider that the kitchen flue is frequently the last one in the house to get cool. As here arranged, the pipe connections with the bath-tub would all be short; they would all be near this flue, and on the inside wall. Hence the conditions would be against freezing. There is a hollow thimble in the pipe connections between the kitchen flue and the bedroom. The bath-room might connect with the same flue or flue-stack. Connecting with the bath-room there is a large linen-closet, which is about the proper size and form for folded bed-clothes. It is near the bath-room window, so that when the closet-door is open the contents will be plainly in view. There is a large window in one side of the kitchen, which should be placed three feet from the floor, so as to admit of a table being set under it. If the kitchen stove were placed next the wall separating the kitchen and sitting-room, it could be piped across to the kitchen flue, and in that way leave the wall space adjacent to that flue and near the bath-tub for the kitchen sink. This would bring all the plumbing work together. At one side of this sink could be placed a well-pump, and a cistern-pump at the other. In the rear of the kitchen are a porch and a pantry. We go down cellar directly from the kitchen. Over the headway of the cellar stairs could be placed a closet for various stores, such as canned fruit. This closet, of course, would be connected with the pantry, as shown. The necessity for head room in going into the cellar would make it necessary to place the floor of this closet three or four feet above the pantry floor. On the side of the pantry opposite this closet are two cup-boards, with doors and shelves above and below. There is a place for a flour-bin or flour-barrel under the dough-board, and space for an ice-box next to it. This box should have a drain connecting with the outside. It is intended to have the cellar under the kitchen and bath-room, though it might be extended under the sitting-room also. This part of the cellar might be used as a fuel-room, and thus dispense with wood and coal sheds. With the fuel and water in the house, the housekeeper would be saved much work. Where a kitchen sink is provided, it would be unnecessary even to carry out the dish-water. [Illustration: Fig. 20. FRONT ELEVATION.] There are two flue-stacks in this building. A base-burner would warm the sitting-room and bedroom and temper the air of the parlor. A grate fire in the parlor would complete the work of heating that room. The cut of the exterior, Fig. 20, tells its own story. The porch has turned columns, and a frieze decorated with scroll-work. The window seat may have a window at each end, as shown in the floor-plan, or panels, as indicated in the elevation. There is a gable at the side and over the window seat, which extends the full width of the sitting-room. Plan No. 20 is a development of Plan No. 19. Without appurtenances it cost $1,200. [Illustration: Plan No. 21] [Illustration: Plan No. 22] Plan No. 21 is an enlargement of No. 19. The pantry and china-room are arranged differently. The doors leading into the china-room are glazed in their upper panels with cathedral glass. This obscures the view, and gives sufficient light. These doors were hung on double-spring hinges, so frequently mentioned. Over the dining-room and chamber are two finished bedrooms. They are arranged in the high part of the roof, and, with dormers, would have only a small part of the upper corners clipped. There are two grates more than shown in Plan No. 19. The stairway arrangement may be reversed, so that one goes to the second floor from the hall rather than from the kitchen. This house cost, with two finished rooms on the second floor, without appurtenances, as per schedule "B," $1,700. Plan No. 22 can be built and finished for $800. The gable arrangement would be about the same as in Fig. No. 20. Plan No. 23 was built, including everything that went on to the lot, for $1,600. [Illustration: Plan No. 23] [Illustration: Plan No. 24] Plan No. 24, as per schedule "B," cost $1,100. Plan No. 25, without appurtenances, cost $1,400. One-story houses cost more for the accommodations which they afford than two-story buildings, for the reason that it takes the same foundation and roof for a one-story house that it does for one of two stories of the same area on the first floor. In fact, it usually takes more foundation and roof for a one-story house than it does for a two-story, for the reason that it covers more ground space than would be required for the same or a larger number of rooms in the two floors. [Illustration: Plan No. 25.] [Illustration: Plan No. 26.] No. 26. This is a peculiar type of a one-story house. There is a servants room over the kitchen. It is a very comfortable arrangement. The bath-room stands between the two bedrooms. There is a grate in each of the rooms on the lower floor. The kitchen-sink arrangements are not altogether satisfactory. It is a plan which will never be very popular. It is designed to be finished with shingles for the outside wall. The structure will cost about two thousand dollars, as per schedule "B." CHAPTER XXIV. SIDE-HALL PLANS.--PLANS WITH BEDROOM ON FIRST FLOOR. Plan No. 27 is a side-hall plan with a bedroom on the first floor. The parlor and sitting-room have views directly to the front. The dining-room has a bay end, and a good china-passage to the kitchen. There is a rear side-hall which is desired by a good many people in building a large house. On the second floor are four principal chambers, which are entirely cut off from the rear bedroom, by bolting a door into the rear hall. The bath-room is measurably detached from the rest of the house, which fact will have the quality of satisfying people who are suspicious of all plumbing. This building, without appurtenances, according to schedule "B," cost about three thousand dollars. [Illustration: Plan No. 27.] [Illustration: Plan No. 28.] Plan No. 28 has over two hundred dollars' worth of porch attached to it. It is a side-hall plan, with the entrance to the front. In it the combination stair idea is carried out in a way previously mentioned, but not before illustrated. The rear stairway is direct as to the servant's room, and combined with the central stairway only for entrance to the main part of the house on the second floor. The arrangement of rooms on the first floor makes this plan suitable for use by people who entertain in a small way. This is the plan to which reference is made in the special kitchen article, excepting that there is a change in the position of the cellar stairway. There are two closets and a wash-stand in the hall which connects the kitchen and sitting-room. This building, without appurtenances, as per schedule "B," cost between $2,800 and $2,900. [Illustration: Plan No. 29.] [Illustration: Plan No. 30] In Plan No. 29 the hall is in front, yet the entrance is at the side. The stairway is at the rear end of the hall. A little door is shown at the rear of the vestibule, leading under the stairway. The closet is not very high, yet it is high enough to use as a place to store a baby carriage or a small tricycle. The arrangement of the entrance and the stairs admits of the use of the hall as a room. In the house as constructed, there is a window seat in the octagon end. There is a double railing coming down into the hall. A part of the stairway is open on each side. Opposite is a grate. There are also grates in the parlor and sitting-room. By a little change in the kitchen arrangement, a bedroom could be placed back of the sitting room, and the rear and cellar stairway would occupy measurably the same position as now. The kitchen would have to be a little narrower, and, if desired, might be longer. The pantry and kitchen could both be pushed a little to the left of where they now stand. In this way space for a bedroom could be provided back of the sitting-room, with possibly only a small projection to the right. The rear vestibule could be cut out of the corner of the bedroom. To prevent this from injuring the appearance of the room, a corresponding space, to the left of this vestibule, could be arranged into passage and closets for the bedroom and sitting-room. In this event the rear bedroom wall would extend past the rear kitchen wall. Attention is called to the size of the closets on the second floor. By a slightly different arrangement of the bath-room an additional bedroom could be provided. There is a large attic over the front part of this house. The entire side walls are covered with shingles dipped in stain. There is a mild form of octagon tower over the front chamber. The building, as here planned, cost $2,600, without the appurtenances mentioned in schedule "B." [Illustration: Fig. 21.] No. 30. Plans with bedrooms on the first floor are frequently wanted. This requirement makes an ugly problem. It increases the number of rooms on the first floor, and oftentimes leaves a less number to be provided on the second story. In this plan, including the bath and reception-hall, there are six rooms on the first floor and three on the second, hence a good deal of waste. There is a sink in the rear hall, second floor, with water supply over it, to obviate the necessity of carrying slops down stairs. Cost of building in brick, $3,000. Fig. 21 is an elevation. [Illustration: Plan No. 31.] [Illustration: Fig. 22.] No. 31. This plan is of the same general character as No. 27, but is somewhat contracted. There is a wash-stand in the little room on the stair landing, a few steps above the reception-hall floor. This building, without appurtenances, cost $2,400, as per schedule "B." Fig. 22 is an elevation of this plan. CHAPTER XXV. MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION.--SHORT DESCRIPTIONS OF ELEVEN HOUSE PLANS.--VARYING COSTS.--SQUARE PLANS.--ONE-CHIMNEY PLANS.--REAR AND SIDE HALL. A great many people like a side-hall entrance, as well as one in front. Plan No. 32 gives it. On the second floor there are a large number of bedrooms. The rear stairway comes up in a manner to separate the servant's room from the front part of the house. A double store-closet is shown on the rear of the second floor. The front part of this closet may be left unlocked and the other portion made secure. The bath-room in the rear has direct connection with the water pipes as they come up from the kitchen. All the bedrooms have the proper plan for furniture. This house, without appurtenances, as per schedule "B," was built for about $4,000. Plan No. 33 was used three times in one season, in slightly differing forms, at a cost varying from $2,800 to $3,600, without appurtenances, as per schedule "B." In the matter of floor space it is not an economical house. It makes a very pretty arrangement of rooms on the first floor. There are five good bedrooms and a bath-room on the second floor. The rear part is measurably separated from the front by a door. A projecting bay window from the family bedroom is shown. [Illustration: Plan No. 32.] Plan No. 34. This is another plan that was made to order. It is an economical arrangement, and, in many respects, very convenient and satisfactory. The single stairway, passing from the dining-room, will be the least satisfactory feature about the whole house to the majority of people. However, the idea in this connection is a good one. It is economical in that it dispenses entirely with the hall. Furthermore, this stairway starts from a room which will be used less than any on the first floor. Few people will be inconvenienced by the use of the dining-room as a hall. Part of this stairway goes into a hall leading to the kitchen. The china-room and pantry arrangements in this house are very satisfactory. On the second floor are five bedrooms and a bath-room. The hall is lighted by a dormer over the stairway. This building, without appurtenances, would cost about $2,500, as per schedule "B." [Illustration: Plan No. 33.] Plan No. 35 is a house with a side entrance for small boys, which is sometimes wanted. This plan meets such a requirement. In the rear hall a coat closet is provided; also a rear stairway. The vestibule in front of the reception-hall is sufficiently large to admit of the placing of hat rack and other vestibule furniture. The stairway is a pretty feature, though not satisfactory to all. There is a closet in connection with the music-room. In actual construction one was provided from the kitchen. The second floor is self-explanatory. It was built, as per schedule "B," for $2,500. Plan No. 36. The requirements of the occupants of this building are peculiar. A large number of bedrooms are required. Other than bath and bedrooms, there are only the dining-room, parlor, and kitchen. There is no cellar. There is a combination stairway. One run starts from the front, and the other from the rear. The landing is in the centre on the second floor. Cost of this building, $2,000, as per schedule "B." [Illustration: Plan No. 34.] In No. 37 the stairway is back of the reception-hall. It is distinctively in the centre of the house, and is accessible from all rooms. There is a passage through two doors from the kitchen to the front part of the house. There is also the usual pantry passage. On the second floor there are four good bedrooms, a linen closet, and a bath-room. The cost of the building, without appurtenances, would be about $2,100, as per schedule "B." [Illustration: Plan No. 35.] [Illustration: Plan No. 36.] [Illustration: Plan No. 37.] Plan No. 38 is another square, one-chimney plan. The house is broad enough so that it gives a little better bath-room arrangement than is shown in some of the narrower plans. The great drawback to this house is that there is only one stairway, and that in front. If a cellar is wanted, the stairway can go down under the main stairs. Plan No. 39. This plan has six bedrooms on the second floor. The hall on the first floor has two closets in front. There is a projecting bay window from the first landing of the front stairway. [Illustration: Plan No. 38.] This house was built for a minister. The library room is shown. Projecting from it is a window-seat. On one side is a large fireplace. The dining-room is separated from the front part of the house by a hall. Both sitting-room and dining-room have bay ends of a form to give a view to the street in front. The side-hall communicates with the kitchen as well as the dining-room. In this hall is a closet, presumably for the boys. There is a liberal supply of closets on the second floor. The servant's room is cut off from the other part of the house. The attic is plastered. This building, without appurtenances described in schedule "B," cost $3,500. [Illustration: Plan No. 39.] Plan No. 40. The rear hall with the side entrance is the thing which will commend this house, as far as its floor plan is concerned. It is an old-style plan, and is wasteful of room. The building cost about $3,100, as per schedule "B." Plan No. 41 is an eight-room house with a simple stairway. The outside walls are of brick. It has a side entrance. The plan is a fairly good one. There are two closets on the first floor, opening from the hall. There is an abundant supply on the second floor. The building cost $3,400, as per schedule "B." [Illustration: Plan No. 40.] [Illustration: Plan No. 41.] [Illustration: Plan No. 42.] Plan No. 42 belongs to the centre hall type, which is less common now than in years past. The parlor, as here lettered, is in reality the sitting-room. A bedroom is shown on the first floor. In each of the four principal rooms a grate is indicated. A hall communicating with the second floor from the cellar is shown in the rear. The kitchen, pantry, and china-closet arrangements are such as have been fully described in other chapters. The side-porch, next to the pantry, affords means of putting ice into the refrigerator without coming into the room. The reception-hall and dining-room are connected by sliding doors. Five bedrooms and a bath-room and liberal closets are shown on the second floor. The front stairway to this floor is broad and easy. The details of the exterior of this structure were carefully rendered, and the appearance altogether satisfactory. An outline drawing of the front is shown. Small gables, similar in design to the one in front, show from the sides. The building, according to schedule "B," cost $2,800, without the appurtenances. [Illustration: Fig. 23.] CHAPTER XXVI. EIGHT PLANS.--EACH SUITED TO FAMILY REQUIREMENTS.--DOUBLE HOUSES.--AN ELABORATE FLOOR PLAN.--A SHINGLE HOUSE.--A BRICK HOUSE. Plan No. 43, while not economical as to arrangement, is well suited to the requirements of the people who own it. There are no children. The lady does not employ a servant. The cost of the building would be about $2,200. Plan No. 44. Double houses are not easy to plan where they are very long. This house was built, one part to live in and the other to rent. The living part has an entrance to the front; and the rental part one, removed from it, at the side. The centre partition is lined on both sides with sheathing lath; that is, sheathing with dovetails cut into it, so that the plastering will stick to it, which makes it solid, and, to a certain extent, deadens the sound. The lettering of the plan clearly indicates its arrangement. The cost, without appurtenances, as by schedule "B," is $5,000. Most of the plans given that are only two rooms deep may be made into double houses by enlarging the amount of window space front and rear, and placing the bath-room side of the house on the exposed side. This gives direct light. [Illustration: FIGURE 24.] Plan No. 45. This house is built on a plat of ground having about seventy feet frontage. The side-hall arrangements give two entirely independent rooms in front. There is a good closet in the hall. From here we pass to the dining-room, library, or parlor, and to the second floor. Only one stairway is used. The pantry and china arrangements are shown. We enter the cellar stairway from the pantry passage. The kitchen is planned according to the general principles previously set forth. [Illustration: Plan No. 43.] On the second floor are four bedrooms and a bath-room. Each room, including the bath, is supplied with closets, and there is a linen closet in the hall. A stairway leads to the attic, in which there is an abundance of room for other chambers, should they be needed. The building, without appurtenances, according to schedule "B," cost $2,100. Fig. 24 is a photographic view of exterior. [Illustration: Plan No. 44.] [Illustration: Plan No. 45.] Plan No. 46 is not greatly different in its general arrangement from others that have been shown. The details, however, are more complete, and it is generally more satisfactory than other houses of the same type. The vestibule arrangement in the front hall is very satisfactory. There is a window-seat under the stairs. The china-room arrangement is convenient. It has an open stairway running out of it to the rear of the second story. There is a laundry in the basement, and large closets on the second floor. [Illustration: Plan No. 46.] Fig. 25 is an elevation. It is a very picturesque house. Cost, as by schedule "B," $3,400. Plan 47. This house was designed for a west frontage. It has a porch in front, a pagoda extension on the south side, and a carriage-porch on the north side. There are a set of storm doors and double inside doors. The reception-hall is thirteen by fifteen feet in the clear. At one side of this hall is a grate. There is an archway over the front window. On each side of the mantel are shown seats, which may be treated as a part thereof. The stairway may be seen from this reception-hall. It is separated from it merely by an open-work screen. The parlor connects with the reception-hall by sliding doors. It has a large window in front, and two smaller ones at the side. [Illustration: Fig. 25.] The parlor connects with the sitting-room by sliding doors, as shown. There is a similar sliding door connecting the stair-hall and sitting-room. Thus the reception-hall and stair-hall, sitting-room and parlor, may be thrown together. There is a bay end at the south side of the sitting-room. Sliding doors are not indicated between the dining-room and sitting-room, or between the dining-room and hall. They could be so placed, if desired. There are two doors from the sitting-room to the dining-room, one on each side of the fireplace. There is sufficient wall space in the dining-room that these doors may be folded out of the way. The library connects with the stair-hall and rear hall. [Illustration: Plan No. 47.] There is a large closet room under the stairway. In it is a small closet, and places for a chest of drawers, and a wash-stand. This would be particularly useful in case the library were to be used as a bedroom. There is a door separating the rear from the front hall. There are two doors between the kitchen and the rear hall. The passageway between these doors is lighted by a window. The sideboard in the dining-room is built into one end of this room. The windows are placed about five feet above the floor, and would look well of stained glass. The kitchen is sixteen by sixteen feet. On one side are a table, sink, drain, and table, successively arranged as here named. In the china-closet is an extension of the last-named table. There is a slide which cuts off communication between the china-closet and the kitchen when this table is not in use. In the china-closet are another sink, table, etc., which could be used for washing and caring for the china, glass, and silver that one does not care to take into the kitchen. There is good ventilation in the kitchen. Back of the range are shown two flues. A dry-box is placed on a level with the top of the range, and has openings in the bottom and into the flue. In this way, any articles placed therein will be readily dried and ventilated. The warm air from the range passes through the box and into the flue. In the pantry are a dough-board and flour-bins, a cupboard for stores, and one for utensils. There is space for an ice-box or refrigerator next to the rear porch. It has a drain connection with the outside. The landing of the front stairway is in the front of the building, as shown. The rear stairway is separated by a door from the rear hall. In the bedrooms, the beds, dressing-cases, and wash-stands are indicated on the plan. The front chamber has a circular window in front. Each room can be entered from the hall without going through any other room. There is a grate in each chamber. The closets are all very large; in each of the front rooms they are three and one-half by four and one-half feet. In the south-side chambers one is three and one-half by four feet, and the other is four by four feet. In the rear hall there is a large closet which may be used for general purposes. In all closets on this floor there is abundant room for drawers, hooks, shelves, etc. [Illustration: Plan No. 48.] The bath-room arrangement is somewhat different from that in general use. It will be noticed that the water-closet is separated from the bath-room proper, though connected with it by a door. One can enter either the bath-room or this water-closet room from the rear hall. In the bath-room is a large closet in which may be arranged a chest of drawers, and, if desired, a ventilated receptacle for soiled linen. This closet is lighted by a window. Cost, as by schedule "B," $10,000. Plan No. 48 is of a house well suited to the requirements of the people who live in it. Fig. 26 is a view of the exterior. It is a shingle house of a severe type. The side projection is a combination of brick and stone. Cost, without appurtenances, $3,400. [Illustration: Plan No. 49.] Plan No. 49, without appurtenances, has been built for $3,400. It is finished in both stories in hard wood, has a front and rear stairway, and a side entrance. A central chimney contains four grates. The closet arrangement is as good as in any plan in this collection. Figs. 27 and 28 are elevations. Fig. 28 shows how the conservatory at the side is finished so as to appear with, and as a part of, the porch. [Illustration: FIGURE 26.] [Illustration: Fig. 27.] [Illustration: Fig. 28.] [Illustration: Plan No. 50.] Plan No. 50. This is a plan of a brick house, built, without appurtenances, as per schedule "B," for $10,000. The external walls are of selected dark cherry red brick, laid in red mortar. The stone work, where exposed above grade, is of Ohio red sandstone, quarry face. There is very little detail to the exterior. The general style of design is quiet and unobtrusive. Red sandstone is selected to go with the brick-work in order to present a solid mass of color, rather than a variation between a light stone and brick work. The interior is complete in all its details; the attic is finished as well as the parlor; all is of quartered oak. Over the butler's pantry, in the rear of the hall, is a balcony. Above this balcony is a large window, twelve feet wide and ten feet high, divided with narrow mullions, and glazed with artistic patterns of stained glass. At one side of the hall is a large fireplace, with panelled wood-work above to ceiling. The sides of the hall are wainscoted to the height of six feet with small panels. The ceiling is of oak. The dining-room and library are finished the same as hall, with oak ceiling omitted. Other details of the plan, in the light of what has been said in previous chapters, are self-explanatory. All has been planned according to the general principles set forth. The butler's pantry is arranged so that all china and glassware are cared for in that room rather than in the kitchen. Fig. 29 is an exterior view of this plan. [Illustration: Fig. 29.] PRACTICAL HOUSE-BUILDING. CHAPTER XXVII. PRACTICAL POINTS.--WATER.--LOCATION OF HOUSE ON LOT.--DRAINING THE CELLAR.--MASON WORK.--FOUNDATIONS.--WALKS.--PIERS.--FLUES.--CISTERNS.--DAMP COURSE. In this section of the book it is proposed to consider, in as plain a manner as possible, the construction of all the details of a house. LOCATING THE HOUSE. First is the placing of the house on the lot. If it have an east or a west front, it is common to set the north side of the house within a few feet of the north line. On a small lot this gives more south and sun exposure. The distance the house is set back from the front of the lot depends largely upon what one's neighbors have done or may do. In the case of a north or south frontage, the west side of the house is usually placed to the west line. This brings the east side of the house in the afternoon shade. Under any circumstances, there should never be less than eighteen inches of space beyond the north or west wall. If the projection of cornice is greater, there should be more than this. WATER. The next thing to do when one begins to build, is to provide water for the builder. This is from the city water service, if any; otherwise from a well. If a driven well is used, it is best to locate it on the inside of the house, near the kitchen sink, and allow the builder to provide a common pump for use during building operations. The cistern and well pumps should go into the plumber's contract. It is not necessary that all the plumbing contract be let at the time the city water service is supplied. The method of letting contracts is explained in another part of the book. EXCAVATING. In excavating for a house, the loam, or upper strata of earth, should be separated from that which comes below. After the walls are placed, the openings around the outside should not be filled at once; certainly not until the wall is dry and the mortar set. After this, the grading and filling should begin. The grade line of the house should be slightly above that of the sidewalk, and there should be a general slope to it. If there is an alley in the rear, the slope should be divided to reach it, if possible. The drainage, excavating and filling connected with the plumbing, gas supplies, etc., should be done early in the building period. Thus the entire surface becomes compact and natural by the time the building is finished. If it should become apparent that there will be superfluous earth, it should be removed from the lot. DRAINING. Where there is a clay soil, and in sections of the country where cellars are inclined to be damp, they should be drained. This is done in various ways; usually by running an open farm tile around and below the level of the cellar wall, which should have connection preferably with a dry well; but if nothing better presents itself, with the sewer drain, although a connection of this kind is not safe. The air which will come into this drain from the sewer will contaminate the soil, and in that way affect the health of the occupants of the building. In some instances a sewer connection from this drain is necessary, but only then should it be used. Another method of draining a cellar is to excavate below the level of lowest mason-work, and fill in a depth of about twelve inches with broken stone, which is given a drain connection with proper outlet. The space between stone particles acts as a drain. MASON-WORK. [Illustration: Fig. 30] The mason-work should be of brick or stone. First, we will consider that of brick, which is common to frame houses and is sometimes used for brick buildings. The foundations, walks, piers, and flues should be of hard burned brick. All should be laid wet, excepting in freezing weather, with lime mortar. The outside exposed brick should be preferably of a dark cherry-red color, laid in white or red mortar. The latter is in most general use. The joints for exposed work should be in form as indicated in Fig. 30; in mason's parlance, these are called "rodded joints." The joint is first cut down from above, with trowel, then the rod is placed along the upper edge of the joint, and the mortar is cut away with a knife in the form indicated. Then the vertical joints are trimmed in the same way; thus no mortar projects beyond the face of the brick. This form of joint is desirable for all kinds of exposed work, where one desires better work than is usual in foundations and other exposed brick work. Brick work should have struck or common joints in the cellar and outside exposed walls, only where small cost is of great importance. Brick work should be left rough where it is desired to plaster. Foundation walls and piers usually continue from sixteen to thirty inches above grade; twenty or twenty-four inches is most common. On this is placed a sill in most frame houses. Outside walls and piers generally begin from eighteen to thirty inches below grade line, where not influenced by the cellar. In an ordinarily cold climate the freezing line is four or five feet. Eighteen inches or two feet is usual, however, in the construction of frame buildings, and the results are not unsatisfactory. A damp-course of slate or hard limestone is sometimes placed just above the grade line, to prevent the passage of moisture from the brick wall below to that above. These general statements as to brick work apply alike to that used in brick and frame buildings, as do also the statements as to interior walls, chimneys, etc., which follow. To prevent the passage of moisture through brick walls below grade from the outside, a coating of Portland cement is sometimes used. Coal-tar is also used, but is not as good as the cement. CHAPTER XXVIII. BRICK FOUNDATIONS.--LAYING BRICK.--COLORED MORTARS.--COLORED BRICKS.--BRICK VENEERING.--HOT-AIR FLUES.--DETAILS OF BRICK CONSTRUCTION.--CHIMNEYS AND FLUES.--HOLLOW WALLS.--CELLAR.--ASH-PITS.--GRATES. A brick wall under a frame house is ordinarily nine inches thick; that is, it is called a nine-inch wall. In reality, it is the thickness of the length of a brick. Under these walls are placed footings. For a two-story frame house there are usually two footings of two courses each projecting two inches. Thus a nine-inch wall would have the bottom footing seventeen inches wide. In ordinary American brick work there is what is called a bond to each seventh course. The bond is made by laying the brick crosswise the wall rather than lengthwise. In that way it ties or bonds the wall together in the direction of its length. Below grade, where the brick work is not exposed, the bond is made by laying a continuous course of brick in this way. Above the grade, the bond is made by laying each alternate brick across the wall. This is called a header and stretcher bond. The stretcher is the brick which lies lengthwise the wall in the common way, and the header is the one which shows its head and runs crosswise the wall to form the bond. Thus there is a continuous row of alternating headers and stretchers in the bond course, which occurs, as said before, each seventh course. Another bond, by some brick-layers called the American bond, does not show on the outside. The corners of the inside of the outer row of bricks are clipped, so that the bond brick runs part way into the outside course, and thus is out of sight. It is an artificial arrangement and not satisfactory; it is not good construction. The header and stretcher bond is the best for exposed work, where both appearance and solidity are to be considered. There are other forms of bond,--the old English and the Flemish,--but they need not be considered here. All brick should be thoroughly "slushed" with mortar; that is, all spaces between brick should be thoroughly filled. The ideal condition would be to have all brick excepting the exposed faces entirely surrounded by mortar. The selection of the brick for the exposed fronts in a frame as well as a brick house should be made before the brick work is begun; at least a large supply should be selected and piled up. While the brick cannot all be of the same shade, different shades can be selected for different walls--a lighter shade for a north wall, and a darker for a south wall, a different shade for an east and a west wall. Very slight variations can be made in the ells and projections. This would apply to pressed, stock, or common brick, though pressed brick is usually selected before delivery. The best color for exposed work is a dark cherry red. The best-appearing work with indifferent brick can be made with the use of a reddish brown mortar. The use of this kind of mortar is increasing. White putty mortar is made in the ordinary way, excepting that white sand, similar to that from Lake Pontchartrain, rather than gray sand, is used. It contains more lime than ordinary mortar. The mortar is said to be richer. Black brick are made by heating and then dipping in coal-tar. Enamelled, glazed, and colored brick can be purchased in the larger markets as desired. Various forms of ornamental brick work are possible even where only the common brick are used. Moulded pressed brick are quite common, and the results of their use very satisfactory. Brick veneering is not unusual in sections of the country where brick is very expensive and the effect of a brick house desired. It is a four-inch brick wall anchored to a frame structure. The anchoring is sometimes accomplished by driving twenty-penny nails into wood-work in a way to project into joints. Hot-air flues in brick walls are sometimes tin-lined, though this is not necessary when they are smoothly plastered, providing it is possible to make them eight inches square. If they cannot be made deeper than the width of a brick, four inches, they should be tin-lined. A four-inch hot-air flue can be placed in a nine-inch wall by setting the two outside rows of brick on edge. Hollow walls have not been regarded with great favor during recent years, for the reason that it is difficult to secure their proper construction. A hollow wall is usually twelve inches in thickness, with the middle course of brick omitted excepting at the corners and adjacent to openings. Suitable ties are placed across the open space. CELLAR. It now is in order to consider various features of interior brick work and details which come in connection therewith. Cellars are usually from seven to eight feet deep. As this does not give all the height necessary for furnace or other heating apparatus, it is usually pitted; that is, it is let down into the cellar floor, and a brick area built around the opening to the furnace-door. Because of the necessity for pitting the furnace, the walls of the house adjacent thereto should continue eighteen inches below the level of other walls. Walls inside of cellar should continue to the top of joist. This completely separates the different compartments of the cellar, or from that part of the house where there is no cellar. There should be a man-hole opening to the parts under the house where there is no cellar. Lintels or wooden supports should be provided over all openings in cellar, and over all openings in inside brick walls. Wooden brick should be provided and built in where it is necessary to attach wood work to brick work. Usually this is about two feet six inches apart in a vertical or horizontal direction. The wooden brick should be the thickness of the brick itself and the mortar joints; that is, there should be no mortar above or below a wooden brick. Iron ventilators should be provided; one in each outside wall under each room where cellar windows are not provided. Windows are not usually provided where there is no cellar. CHIMNEYS. It is known that wood-work should not come directly in contact with chimneys. The framework should never rest on a chimney. There are reasons for this other than those which have a regard for safety from fire, one of which is that the chimney is not liable to settle. If it does not, the shrinkage of the wood-work, which in a two-story frame house will sometimes amount to two inches in the height of the building, makes a high place around the flues, where the frame comes in contact with or rests on the chimney. All chimney-stacks should extend above highest point of ridge of roof, and the extreme tops should be laid in Portland cement. All the exposed brick of the chimney should be hard-burned. If due regard were paid to these points, there would be no rickety chimney-tops. All flues should be thoroughly plastered on the inside. If chimneys were plastered on the outside, wherever they come in contact with the wood-work, the complaint of fires from defective flues would be hushed. Fig. 31 illustrates the common form of constructing a chimney breast where a grate is to be used. The flues are eight and one-half inches square. A passage to the ash-pit is shown. The grate opening is two feet wide; the jambs on each side are one foot six inches wide; thus the entire width of the breast is five feet. Other dimensions as indicated. Where there are grates on two floors of the house, one above the other, or where it is desirable for any reason to have a flue pass around a grate, it is necessary that the breast should be five feet wide. It is clear that the grate from below must have its own flue out to the top of the chimney. Thus the grate flue from the first story must pass around the grate of the second story, if there be one. If there is no grate above, or if it is not desired to pass a flue around the first-story grate, the chimney breast need be only four feet wide; that is, it would have the usual two-feet opening to the grate, and twelve rather than eighteen inch jambs on each side. On one side of the dotted line is indicated flue construction for a brick wall, and on the other for a wood wall. [Illustration: Fig 31] The hearth should rest on what is called a trimmer arch, which is made of brick. It springs from the chimney breast to the header of wood in front. It is four inches in thickness. It is laid in the ordinary way, and at the proper time is filled on the top with concrete by the mantel-setter. In case a grate on the second floor connects with the ash-pit, one of the flues at the side is used for this purpose. Fig. 32 indicates a common form of corner grate. The flues in this as well as Fig. 31 are drawn close together and come out through the attic and roof in a smaller stem. There should be distinct separation of flues. [Illustration: Fig 32] Ash-pits are frequently made of four-inch brick walls strengthened by brick pilasters. These pits are usually from three to four feet in depth and the width of the chimney breast, and nearly as high as the depth of the cellar. Where more than one grate empties into an ash-pit, it is common to divide it into compartments, one for each fire. The top of the pit is crowned with a brick arch. Ash-dumps are sometimes provided for the grate, depending, of course, upon the kind of grate used, and ash-pit doors of iron for the pits themselves. OUTSIDE CELLAR-WAY. The side walls of an outside cellar-way should continue to the bottom of cellar. It should be floored the same as the cellar itself. AREAS. Areas of brick should be provided around all cellar openings that continue below grade. The bottoms of these areas should be floored with paving-brick. This is better than cement, as it admits of natural drainage. CHAPTER XXIX. STONE MASONRY.--CUT STONE.--TERRA COTTA.--PRIVY VAULTS.--CISTERNS.--FILTERS FOR CISTERNS.--BRICK PAVEMENTS.--CEMENT PAVEMENTS. Stone foundations for dwelling-houses are usually made of native stone, and anything that may be said here must necessarily conform to general rather than special conditions. The best stone that can be used for this purpose is hard, non-absorbent limestone. There are many varieties of stone conglomerates throughout the country which are valuable for foundation uses. Stone should be laid up in lime mortar in the direction of its natural bed in the quarry, with a sufficiency of bond stone. For ordinary dwelling-house work there should be at least one footing eight inches in depth, and six inches projection on each side of the wall. Stone walls for foundations are usually made not less than eighteen inches in thickness. It is not easy to lay a good stone wall less than eighteen inches in thickness. While the same number of cubic feet of stone work may cost less than brick work, a stone foundation ordinarily would cost more than one of brick for the reason that a brick wall does not have to be so thick. It usually takes about half the number of cubic feet of brick work that it does of stone work to answer the same purpose. Where stone is available at low cost it is best to use it. Interior brick walls may rest on stone footings. The inside of stone walls should be neatly pointed after other work has been finished. Stone work above grade may be finished in many ways--random range work, rubble work, regular course range work, etc. After the other work has been finished, the mortar should be raked out a short distance and a finish joint added. CUT STONE. Cut-stone work is too large a subject to consider in detail. There are several points which cannot be overlooked. There should be drips cut under all projections, so that the water will not run down the other stone or brick work and stain it. A drip is merely a little V-shaped channel cut on the under side of the stone work. They are found on the under side of most window-sills. In door, window, or other openings, the stone work should underlie or overlie all wood work at least two inches. This may be explained by stating that the stone window-sill should underlie the wood sill two inches, and the window cap should overlie the wood cap at least two inches. Generally speaking, coping should project on each side of the wall about two inches. Sills should extend at least one inch beyond the face of the wall. Window-sills should be no less than five inches in thickness. Door-sills should generally be about seven or eight inches, and extend at least one inch beyond the face of the wall, and through its full thickness. The water table of the stone foundation usually forms the window cap of the cellar windows, and the cap course, which comes at the grade line, the cellar window-sills. In this case it is necessary that the stone should run farther into the wall where the openings occur. Stone steps are not over six and one-half to seven and one-half inches in thickness, with from nine to twelve inch treads. They underlie and lap about one inch, and have walls, the same material as the foundation, for lower supports. These walls should go to the full depth of the house walls with which they come in contact. Thus there is no danger of settling. Stone steps are frequently used in the front of the yard from the side-walk to the grade level where there is considerable elevation. In such cases it is necessary to use stone side pieces for the steps, to prevent caving and to make a neat finish. Where flagging is cheap, it is well to use it for walks and porch floors. TERRA-COTTA WORK. Terra cotta is the perfection of brick-making. It is the only building material which is not affected by changes of temperature, or other natural or artificial conditions to which the building may be subject. It may be described as being a very plastic material; that is, anything can be done with it. It can be worked into any form that is desired, excepting long lintels, and even in that case there are means of arriving at the desired result and giving a lintel form in a very proper manner. Ornamental terra cotta is modelled by artists before being burned, and the best results may naturally be expected. PRIVY VAULT. The size of the privy vault is usually three and one-half by four and one-half feet, elliptical, and from ten to twenty feet deep, according to the character of the soil. Usually it is walled up with four-inch dry brick wall. Piers should be provided at corners for privy building. In some instances it is required that the privy vault should be made water-tight. In that case it should be built the same as a cistern, with round bottom and cemented interior surface. When it is desired to connect the privy vault with the sewer, it should be cemented in the manner just described, with a siphon vitrified pipe connection with the drain to the sewer. The siphon prevents solid rubbish, which may be thrown into the vault, from getting into the drain and clogging it. CISTERN. The cistern is generally located near the rear kitchen wall, say ten or twelve feet therefrom. The walls, arch, and neck are usually four inches in thickness when capacity of cistern does not exceed one hundred and twenty-five barrels. Otherwise the brick work mentioned should be eight inches in thickness. The brick should be laid in domestic cement, and smoothly coated with Portland cement. It should be connected with the down spouts of the house by means of vitrified drain-pipe, the same as described in connection with plumbing work, though it has no connection therewith. The following table gives capacity of cisterns of various sizes. CAPACITY OF CISTERN IN GALLONS FOR EACH TEN INCHES IN DEPTH. +-------+----------++--------+----------++--------+----------+ | DIAM. | || DIAM. | || DIAM. | | | IN | GALLONS. || IN | GALLONS. || IN | GALLONS. | | FEET | || FEET. | || FEET. | | +-------+----------++--------+----------++--------+----------+ | 2 | 19·50 || 6-1/2 | 206·85 || 12 | 705·0 | | 2-1/2 | 30·50 || 7 | 239·88 || 13 | 827·4 | | 3 | 44·60 || 7-1/2 | 275·40 || 14 | 959·6 | | 3-1/2 | 59·97 || 8 | 313·33 || 15 | 1,101·6 | | 4 | 78·33 || 8-1/2 | 353·72 || 20 | 1,958·4 | | 4-1/2 | 99·14 || 9 | 396·56 || 25 | 3,059·9 | | 5 | 122·40 || 9-1/2 | 461·40 || 30 | 4,406·4 | | 5-1/2 | 148·10 || 10 | 489·60 || 35 | 5,990·0 | | 6 | 176·25 || 11 | 592·40 || 40 | 7,831·0 | +-------+----------++--------+----------++--------+----------+ FILTERS. There are various ways of forming a filter. One is to have a small cistern of eight or ten barrel capacity, located between the main cistern and house. It should be divided by a brick wall laid in mortar, but not cemented on either side. The water enters on one side, passes through the brick wall in the middle, and from thence to the cistern beyond. Another plan is to cement the wall, leave an opening at the bottom, and pack the side on which the water enters with charcoal, sand, and gravel. The water passes through this packing and the opening below to the other side of the filter, and then to the cistern. Still another plan is to build the partition as first described on the inside of the cistern proper. All of the water passes to one side of the divided cistern, and through the partition before being drawn out. Thus it has to pass through the brick before it is to be drawn out. Still another filter is made by building what is called a beehive in the bottom of the cistern. It is a beehive form of brick work, with the pump pipe leading to the inside, so that all water has to be drawn through the brick beehive before it is pumped out. According to this plan, as well as the others mentioned, the water is strained through the brick. It is best that the cistern and independent filter, when used, should be provided with iron rims and cast-iron covers. It is good practice to connect the cistern with a dry well, which is constructed the same as an open vault excepting that the top is arched. This dry-well connection is by means of five-inch vitrified pipe laid in the same manner as sewer pipe. There is a practice, altogether too common among builders, of connecting the cistern overflow with the vault or sewer. Nothing could be worse than this. The water is certain to be polluted. BRICK PAVEMENT. Brick pavements are used for walks around the house, and sometimes for cellar floors. Cement floors, however, are better for cellars. Brick pavement of all kinds should be made of hard-burned bricks, laid on a six or eight inch bed of sand. The brick walk should not be laid until after all the grading and filling of the lot has been done. It is best to leave the brick walks out of the general contract, so that this work can be delayed until after the house is finished. It is a good thing to have the sodding and the paving in the same contract. The contractor who attends to the sodding can work the two together to a better advantage than if the walks were placed and the sodding done afterwards. CEMENT PAVEMENT. Cement pavements are used for walks around the house, and for cellar floors. Cement is more expensive than brick. The surface to be covered should, first, be levelled, then saturated with water; after which is laid a three-inch bed of cement concrete, made of gravel, sand, and cement in proper proportions. Upon this is placed a three-fourth-inch layer of cement mortar. Ordinary American, hydraulic cement may be used for concrete, but for the three-fourth-inch layer nothing but best Portland cement should be considered. Sometimes the cement work in the cellar is done by the plasterer. Outside cement work for walks requires special skill. In most large cities there are those who make a business of doing this work. They have different formulas and methods of reaching the proper results. CHAPTER XXX. CARPENTER WORK.--FRAMING.--SIZE OF TIMBERS.--HEIGHT OF STORIES.--JOIST.--STUD WALLS.--OUTSIDE SHEATHING.--BUILDING-PAPER.--ROOFS.--OUTSIDE FINISH.--OUTSIDE SHINGLE WALLS.--OUTSIDE CASINGS.--WINDOWS WITH BOX FRAMES.--HINGED OR PIVOTED WINDOWS.--OUTSIDE SHUTTERS.--PORCHES.--LATTICE PORCHES. CARPENTER WORK. In considering carpenter work, we will first take up framing, and everything which pertains to the outside of the house. All material used for framing should be sound, square-edged material, free from imperfections tending to impair its use, durability, or strength. In different parts of the country, different kinds of lumber are standard for framing purposes. In the South and sections contiguous to it, yellow pine is used; in the North, white pine, hemlock, Norway spruce, poplar, and even hard wood. It is neither profitable nor desirable in this connection to indicate any particular material; it is natural to use the cheapest that is sufficiently strong for framing. The following table indicates the sizes of timber in common use in framing an ordinary dwelling. Sills, outside walls 6' × 8" Sills, inside walls 6 × 8 Lintels, over openings 6 × 10 Girders, over piers 6 × 10 Plates 4 thick Rafters, 20 on centres 2 × 6 Horizontal purlins, or roof supports 4 × 6 Roof posts 4" × 4" Bridging 2 × 4 Joists, 1st tier 2" × 10" × 16" on centres " 2d tier 2 × 10 × 16 " " " 3d tier 2 × 8 × 16 " " " deck 2 × 6 × 20 " " Studs 2 × 4 × 16 " " Rafters, or deck joist, 16" on centres, when to be plastered. Sizes here given may not be adapted to all sections. There is no occasion for being arbitrary. The sizes may be conformed to the material which is ordinarily used. Stories ten and a half feet high are generally considered the limit in an ordinary frame house at this time. Nine and a half and ten are more common. This is quite different from the general tendency to high stories a few years ago. Certainly, it is more rational. JOISTS. Joists are usually dressed, so that they have about one-half-inch crown or curve on their upper surface, which would make the centre of the room about one-half inch higher than the sides. They should be trimmed so that all are of the same width and form. Double trimmers and headers--that is, double joist--should be framed around all chimney-breasts, well-holes, scuttles, and openings in the wall. In dwelling-house work they should be mortised and tenoned together, as should be the pieces connecting therewith. In very cheap work headers and trimmers are sometimes spiked together. This is not good practice. For very good work, where heavy weights are to be carried, trimmers and headers should be supported on wrought-iron strips. This, however, is not necessary in ordinary dwelling-house work. Joists longer than eighteen feet should be twelve inches in width. Those running adjacent or parallel to partition or other walls should be firmly spiked thereto. Double joists should be placed under all partitions and supports having no support from below. Where the weight is extra heavy, the double joists should be trussed by a two-by-four-inch stud, spiked in truss form, between them. There should be one row of truss bridging to each span or tier, size as indicated. Header should be framed across pipe duct, about eighteen inches therefrom. STUD WALLS. See Fig. 33. Walls and partitions are usually of two-by-four-inch studding. In large houses it is best that the studding be two by six inches, and plates four inches in thickness and the width of the studding are commonly placed at the bottom and top of the walls of each story. Sometimes, however, the studding continues to the height of two stories, and the joists are supported on a one-by-six-inch "ribbon" piece let into the studding. [Illustration: Fig 33] Trusses or supports should be framed over all openings. Sliding-door pockets or runways should be lined with flooring. All corners and angles should be framed solid and have two-inch projections for lathing. Studding four by four inches thick should be framed around all window openings and on three sides of the door openings; bridging, two by two inches, one row for each story. Grounds should be placed on the inside openings, and elsewhere for plastering. The pipe duct, fourteen inches wide, should be placed between studding from kitchen to attic floor. All outside walls of frame houses should be diagonally sheathed with seven-eighths-by-six-inch dressed sheathing. Tongued and grooved material is best for this purpose, although it is not in common use. All sheathing should be covered with six-pound sized building-paper. Sometimes the insides of brick walls are furred. This means that they are lined on the inside with wood strips two inches in thickness, sixteen inches on centres, and then lathed and plastered. This prevents the passage of the moisture through the brick into the inside of the room. Various forms of sheathing lath for inside sheathing of a frame house are now in use. This form of lath contemplates a seven-eighth-inch tongued and grooved sheathing on the inside with dove-tailed channels cut into its surface, which form key-room for the plastering. ROOF. Most roofs can be formed with out-posts and purlins. All can be formed in this way where cost is not considered. An ordinary dwelling-house of the size given in these plans does not require separate posts and purlins. There should be double rafters around all chimneys and openings in the roof. The roof should be sheathed with seven-eighths by four-inch material; where exposed to view, with five-and-one-half-inch beaded flooring. Where deck framing is required, posts and purlins are necessary, size according to weight to be carried. Where shingles are used for roofing, they should be laid four and one-half inches to the weather for sixteen-inch shingles, with two nails to each. It is best that shingles should be dipped in stain, oil, or paint before they are put on the roof. The durability of shingles is not increased by being painted after they have been laid. The ridge finish of the shingle or slate roof should be of galvanized iron, with about four-inch lap on each side. It may be made as ornamental as desired. Wood should never be used for this purpose. Hips and ridges of slate or shingle roofs may be finished with tin or galvanized iron, lapped on each side about three and one-half inches. Gutters of galvanized iron set up on the first course of shingles or slate, with metallic support from above or below, are better than gutters of wood tin-lined. Where slate covering is used, any size slate desired may be employed, bearing in mind that the bond should not be less than three and one-half or four inches. There should be two nails to each slate. OUTSIDE FINISH. All lumber used for outside finish should be thoroughly seasoned, clear, smoothly dressed, and free from imperfections tending to impair its use, durability, strength, or appearance. Poplar is the ideal building material for outside finish. It takes paint better than other woods used for this purpose. However, pine is generally used, for the reason that it is cheaper. Weather-boarding is usually laid with an inch lap four and one-half inches to the weather; three and one-half inches is better. [Illustration: Fig 34] Drop siding, or German siding as it is sometimes called, makes a warmer and better wall than weather-boarding. It is usually six or eight inches wide, and in form and construction as indicated by Fig. 34. Outside shingle walls are now quite common. Shingles are used for ornamental purposes in a large proportion of the houses that are built; in some instances they are used exclusively for outside covering. In such cases they are undressed, and are stained commonly with one of the proprietary stains now on the market. Before being placed they are dipped into the stain for about eight inches from their buts, and are laid in piles to dry. Any desired color may be secured, and there are instances where stained shingled walls have gone without any attention or expense for eight or ten years. Dressed shingles are commonly painted. Their form may be as ornamental as desired. Outside shingles are sometimes laid five and one-half inches to the weather, but four and one-half is better. It is not uncommon at this time to leave all shingles unpainted and unstained. The effect is very agreeable when they become weather-stained. OUTSIDE CASINGS. All horizontal trimmings and casings should be bevelled on the top to shed the water. They should run back under the shingled weather-boarding or other outside covering. There should be tin covering for all projections in excess of one and three-eighths inch. Ordinary window or door casings outside are usually three-eighths inch thick. WINDOWS. All windows in the part of the house regularly occupied should have box frames. Pulley styles should be of hard wood, and the inside bead should be secured with round-headed screws. Sash for plate glass should be one and three-fourths inch thick; side rail, two and one-half inches in rabbet; bottom rail, three and one-eighth inches; and meeting rail, one and one-fourth inch in the rabbet. Sash for common glass may be one and three-eighths inch thick. Other sizes, as given. Sash, for rooms finished in hard wood is better when of the wood in which the room is finished. However, where there is great variation this is not necessary. Quartered oak is the material commonly used for hard-wood sash. Almost any hard wood is more liable to warp than pine. All box frames should be provided with turned axle pulleys. Nothing but the best plaited cotton sash-cord should be used. Necessary weights should be provided. In some of the plans where wide front windows are indicated, the design is called pocket head. There is a pocket above the head of the frame so that a high sash may be run into it. The sash may be pushed up into the pocket; that is, it runs into the wall above the head of the frame. Where the pocket-head window is used, it is necessary that there be a clear space above the frame for the sash to be run up equal to the height of the sash itself. Hinged or pivoted windows have rabbeted frames which are usually one and three-eighths inch thick. They are used for the most part in unfinished cellars, attics, and unoccupied parts of the house, and preferably for pantry, store-room, and, occasionally, bath-room windows. They may be hung on hinges or pivots. Hinges are better, for the reason that fly screens cannot be used where the sash is pivoted. Sills should slant twenty degrees, with drip piece secured to outside. This prevents the storm from blowing water to the inside. OUTSIDE SHUTTERS. Outside shutters are usually one and three-eighths inch thick, with movable slats; if more than six and one-half feet high, they should be made in three panels each. Arrangements are provided by various manufacturers of hardware for opening outside shutters from the inside of the room. They may be swung either from the sides or top at will. When they are suspended from above they act as an awning; they admit the air but not the rays of the sun. Sometimes shutters are cut at the meeting rail, so that the upper or lower section may be opened as desired. PORCHES. At this time it is not usual to provide special ceiling for porches. The rafters and all exposed material are dressed so that they may be painted or stained. Floor joists are not usually more than two by eight inches; sills, about six by eight. The floor should be inclined about one-eighth of an inch to the foot, and made of hard wood, tongued and grooved, not over two and three-fourths inches in width. Edges should be finished with nosings, which are rounded edges. The roof of the porch is usually the same as that of the body of the house. Gutters are similar to those on other roofs. Railing and turned balusters are usual, excepting where an opening for passage is desired. LATTICE PORCH. Framework of lattice porch is generally the same form as other porches. The covering is usually made with one-and-three-eighths-inch material, laid diagonal; openings, one and three-eighths inch. Door and hardware, same as used for other parts of the house, are generally provided. OUTSIDE STEPS. Outside steps of wood usually have hard-wood treads made of seven-eighths-by-two-and-one-half-inch pieces, with three- eighths-inch space between; carriages should be two by ten inches, about sixteen on centres. Railing and posts for steps should be provided if necessary. Lattice should be placed under porches and outside steps, and between all outside piers. Outside lattice-work in yard may be of the same general design as mentioned for lattice-work porches. General statements as to outside wood-work apply alike to brick or frame houses, with certain omissions that should be obvious to an intelligent reader. CHAPTER XXXI. INSIDE WOOD-WORK.--FLOORS.--SOFT AND HARD WOOD FLOORS.--TABULATED STATEMENT OF INSIDE FINISH.--DIFFERENT KINDS OF WOOD.--DOORS AND FRAMES.--FLY SCREENS.--INSIDE CASINGS.--WAINSCOTING.--INSIDE SHUTTERS.--WOOD-WORK FOR PLUMBING.--KITCHEN SINK AND FITTINGS.--KITCHEN TABLES.--CELLAR-SINK FITTINGS.--WOOD-WORK FOR BATH-TUB.--WATER-CLOSETS.--WASH-STANDS.--TANK.--PICTURE MOULDING.--CLOSET FITTINGS.--BROOM-RACK.--CEDAR-CLOSET.--DRY-BOX.--CLOCK SHELF.--CHINA-ROOM FITTINGS.--PANTRY FITTINGS.--STAIRWAYS. INSIDE WOOD-WORK. All material should be perfectly clear, first-class, thoroughly seasoned, kiln-dried, dressed material, free from imperfections tending to impair its use, durability, strength, or appearance. All inside finish excepting floors should be sand-papered. Where an especially good finish is desired, all should be scraped as well. FLOORS. In preparing for floors, it is not unusual to make arrangements for preventing the passage of sound. This is done by deadening. The usual method is to nail strips about two inches and a half from the top edge of the joist, on which are laid one-inch boards. This leaves an inch and a half between their surface and the upper edge of the joist. This may be filled in with concrete, mineral wool, or other non-conducting material. Either is very effective in preventing the passage of sound from the floors to the rooms below. In a dwelling-house where two floors only are in common use, it is only necessary to deaden the second floor. A permanent sheathing floor of the same material that is used for rough siding may be placed over all joists of first and second floors for a floor during the plastering of the house. This does not act as deadening, unless concrete or mineral wool be placed over it. It is well to have a floor of this kind for use during plastering. It also makes the lower floor warmer. It should be covered with building-paper before the finished floor is laid. Finished floors should extend throughout the first and second stories and the attic. They are commonly of pine or other soft wood. The material is tongued and grooved, secret-nailed, and should be smoothed off after laying. The boards should never be wider than five and a half inches, nor less in thickness than seven-eighths of an inch. They should be free from sap, large, loose, or black knots. Hard-wood floors may be of hard pine, oak, maple, or other hard wood that is readily obtainable or desirable. This material should not be more than two and three-fourths inches in width, nor less than seven-eighths of an inch in thickness, and should be tongued and grooved, secret-nailed, and smoothed off and scraped after laying. A better grade of pine flooring than that mentioned may be had if desired. It is best that all floors be laid after plastering. However, this is not the common practice. The carpenter should cut out flooring as directed, and prepare for hearths in proper places. Other inside dressed wood-work should never be placed in position until after the plastering is finished and dry. The following table is from a specification in use by myself, and shows the kind of lumber, style of doors, finish of wood, painters' finish, and rooms supplied with plate glass, and the general style of hardware. The detail specification makes clear the points here outlined. The filling out of the blanks indicates the range and style of finish which frequently occur. The lettering of the doors and finish refers to drawings and details, a part of which are given in this connection. +---------------+--------------+-----+-------+--------+-------+-----+ | | | D F | T O D | P F | R W P | S H | | | | O I | H F O | A I | O I L | T A | | | | O N | I O | I N | O T A | Y R | | | | R I | C R | N I | M H T | L D | | | KIND | S S | K . | T S | S E | E W | | FLOORS. | OF | H | N | E H | - | A | | | LUMBER. | A . | E | R . | G | O R | | | | N | S | S | L | F E | | | | D | S | ' | A | . | | | | | | | S | | | | | | | | S | | | | | | | | . | | +---------------+--------------+-----+-------+--------+-------+-----+ | FIRST FLOOR. | | | | | | | | Front Hall | Qu. Oak. | A | 1-3/4 | -- | -- | -- | | Parlor | " " | A | 1-3/4 |All Oil.| -- | -- | | Sitting-Room | " Sycamore.| A | 1-3/4 | -- | -- | -- | | Library | " " | A | 1-3/4 | -- | -- | -- | | Rear Hall | Gum. | A | 1-3/4 | -- | -- | -- | | Dining-Room | " | A | 1-3/4 | -- | -- | -- | | Chamber | -- -- | -- | -- | -- | -- | -- | | Kitchen | Plain Oak. | D | 1-3/8 | -- | -- | -- | | Bedrooms | -- -- | -- | -- | -- | -- | -- | | Pantry | " " | D | 1-3/8 | -- | -- | -- | | China Room | " " | D | 1-3/8 | -- | -- | -- | | | | | | | | | | SECOND FLOOR. | | | | | | | | Front Hall | Gum. | E | 1-3/8 | -- | -- | -- | | Chamber | Pine. | E | 1-3/8 | -- | -- | -- | | " | " | E | 1-3/8 | -- | -- | -- | | " | " | E | 1-3/8 | -- | -- | -- | | " | " | E | 1-3/8 | -- | -- | -- | | Rear Bedroom | Poplar. | D | 1-3/8 | -- | -- | -- | | Alcove | Pine. | E | 1-3/8 | -- | -- | -- | | Bath-Room | Qu. Oak. | D | 1-3/8 | -- | -- | -- | | Rear Hall | Pine. | D | 1-3/8 | -- | -- | -- | | Other rooms | " | D | 1-3/8 | -- | -- | -- | +---------------+--------------+-----+-------+--------+-------+-----+ It may be said, in general terms, in regard to the different kinds of wood used in finishing a house, that, all things considered, hard wood of one kind or another is preferable, for the reason that it stands the general wear and tear of house-keeping with less evidence of the struggle. Soft wood--pine or poplar--is only to be used because it is cheaper than the other. Quartered oak, quartered sycamore, cherry, maple, walnut and chestnut may be classed as the hard woods in ordinary use in finishing houses of moderate cost. Gum is difficult to class. It is neither hard nor soft. Others might be mentioned in this same connection. Pine and other resinous woods are mentioned as soft woods; as is also poplar, called in some sections white-wood. Any of these woods may be oil-finished, according to the general formula indicated elsewhere, or any of them may be stained. Birch stains very nicely. DOORS AND FRAMES. Door-frames, when rabbeted, should not be less than one and three-eighths inch in thickness. Sometimes the strip is screwed to the frame. In that case the frame is often not more than one and one-eighth inch thick. One and three-eighths inch, however, is better. Front doors or principal entrance doors are frequently hard wood when all the others are soft wood. All outside doors are generally filled with glass in their upper panels. Sliding doors should be the same general design as other adjacent doors. One additional panel to each additional twelve inches in excess of width of other doors may be provided. Sliding doors should be hung from above. Hard-wood doors are usually solid. All excepting pine are best made of a veneer, one-fourth inch thick on a one-and-three-eighths-inch pine body, as indicated by Fig. 35. Sometimes doors are made in two thicknesses of hard wood. This is not as good as a single thickness. Three thicknesses are better. The only door to be recommended, however, is the veneered door. Such doors will not warp; others are liable to do so. Transoms may be hung on pivots, and should be provided with catches, and, if heavy or high, with adjustable lifts. Transoms are sometimes used in doors on the second floor, though this practice is less common than in the past. Where doors with transoms are used, it is not uncommon to have the closet doors extend to the full height of the transom tops, and provide additional top panels. Doors six feet ten inches in height, or less, and not more than one and three-eighths inch in thickness, may be hung on two three-and-one-half by three-and-one-half-inch buts. If higher than this or wider than three feet, they should be hung on three buts or hinges. [Illustration: Fig. 35] Doors in unfinished cellars may be made of two thicknesses of seven-eighths beaded flooring; frames the same as in rooms above. A seven-eighths batten door, with one-and-three-eighths-inch frame, should be provided for man-hole in cellar. Scuttle doors, where required, may be seven-eighths inch in thickness, battened. [Illustration: Fig. 36] Cuts 35, 36, 37 indicate ordinary style of inside door and window finish, the sizes and heights being marked. Doors from dining-room to china-closet and china-closet to kitchen should be hung on double-spring hinges, so that they will swing either way and come back to position. The slide from the kitchen to china-closet or dining-room should be hung the same as sash, with plaited cotton sash-cord, pulleys, and weights, and provided with lifts and bolt fastenings. [Illustration: Fig. 37] Frames should be provided for opening into bay windows, window-seats, alcoves, and pilasters. Stop beads for glazed and sliding doors should be secured with round-headed screws. There should be corner beads for external angles. FLY SCREEN. In the modern house all outside openings, from cellar to attic, are provided with fly screens. They are now made by concerns who make it a business to do this work, and are much better than those made by the ordinary carpenter. They are arranged so that they will slide up and down on the inside or outside stop, and are finished in every way to correspond with the other wood-work of the house. They need not be more than three-quarters of an inch in thickness if properly made. A small strip is secured to the stop bead, and a corresponding groove is cut in the screen frame. A spring therein holds it firm, and admits of their removal without trouble or waste of time. Special hardware is provided for door and window screens. INSIDE CASINGS. The commonest way of constructing casings at this time is indicated in Figs. 35 and 36, showing inside of doors and windows. This is one of the least expensive forms, and is adapted to all ordinary work. The casings are usually seven-eighths inch thick, the corner and plinth blocks one and one-eighth inch thick. The plinth block comes at the bottom of the casing. One reason that this form of casing is in such general use is, that the corner block conceals any slight shrinkage which there may be in the wood. Where there is a mitred or flush joint, the shrinkage is certain to show. Casings as elaborate as any one is inclined to pay for may be used. Window, door, alcove, and other casings are generally all of one design in a room. All girders and projections below ceilings should be cased. BASE. The base-board around the room should be plain, so that it may be readily cleaned. Where it is ornamented, it adds nothing to the appearance of the room. There should be a base for all plastered walls. Generally they should be not more than eight inches high, seven-eighths inch thick, bevelled at the top and a quarter round at the bottom. A five-eighths-inch adjustable lip may be put on at the top, to take up the inequalities in the plaster. The closet base may be formed of a quarter round only if it is plastered and skimmed to the floor. It is well to have as little wood-work as possible in the closet. WAINSCOTING. Wainscoting kitchen, bath, and other rooms is not as common as it once was. This is because wood-work is more difficult to keep clean than plastering. Wherever there is wainscoting, there must necessarily be joints. These are difficult to keep clean. Panel wood-work, or other form of decoration for wall or ceiling, may be used in rooms according to the disposition of the owner and the taste of the architect. INSIDE SHUTTERS. Inside shutters are not so universally used in good houses as they were a few years ago. Draperies, though more expensive, are preferred, and are taking their place. Inside sliding shutters, arranged in several sections and constructed according to the general plan described for fly-screens, are in more common use. Rolling slats which roll into a pocket are to be thought of only in connection with an expensive dwelling. The common inside shutter is ordinarily seven-eighths inch in thickness, four panels wide, beaded, and cut at the meeting rail; and the four centre panels are provided with movable slats. The special designs of inside shutters mentioned are manufactured by various establishments throughout the country, and are advertised in various magazines and periodicals. Under any circumstances the owner will have to investigate proprietary goods and special furnishings for himself. They are not to be considered in a work of this kind. WOOD-WORK FOR PLUMBING. All should be put up in a way to make plumbing readily accessible by the removal of screws. The pipe duct should be located as required in the kitchen, and pass from basement to attic floor. The inside measurement should be seven by twelve inches. It should be constructed of seven eighths-inch lumber. In case of stud partitions, the duct may be let into the wall the full depth allowed by studding. The front will project into the kitchen. All should be of clear lumber, the same as other wood used in finishing. A ventilating opening, five inches in diameter, may be provided at the top of the duct. This may be connected with pipe and funnel, or other device, placed over the kitchen range. The carpenter should provide pipe boards for all pipe runs. The following, in regard to wood-work for plumbing, is from the specification of an architect: KITCHEN SINK AND FITTINGS.--Wood rim, 7/8 by 2-1/2 inches; skirt, 7/8 by 6-1/2 inches; support on cleat at back, plain oak, 1-3/8-inch turned legs in front. SPLASH-BOARD.--7/8 by 14 inches, scurfed back; 7/8 by 2 inches, plain top. DRAIN-BOARD.--Shall be 22 inches long by 21 inches wide, 7/8 inch thick, 1 inch incline; channelled top; skirt, 3 by 7/8 cleated with two cleats at bottom. One end shall rest on sink, side on wall cleat, other end on turned leg. Full length of tables, sink, and drain. TABLES.--There shall be two tables connected with drain and sink, each 21 inches wide, 2 by 6 inches long, 7/8 thick; skirt, 3 by 7/8 inches. Cleated back. Secured and supported same as drain. OTHER SINKS:-- CELLAR SINK.--Provide 7/8-by-3-inch supporting rim, 2-1/2 inches by 7/8 inch top. 1-3/8 square legs. BATH-TUB.--Case sides and ends with 7/8-by-2-3/4-inch oak board, tongued and grooved material, secret-nailed. Batten foot-casing, and put in in one piece with round-headed blue screws. Cap top. SPLASH-BOARD.--Wainscoting same as tub casing, 6 inches high. Cap top in two members 7/8 inch thick. WATER-CLOSET.--Hinged flap and seat, each 7/8 inch thick; skirt, 7/8 by 5 inches; support on 1-3/8 turned legs in front, cleat at back. Case water-closet tank, mould top. WASH-STANDS.--Provide supports under marble top. Case sides same as specified for tub. Make cleated door in front of same material. Provide hinges and fastenings. TANK.--A tank shall be placed in attic; capacity, 8 barrels. Construct with 1-3/4-inch ploughed and tongued material, with two 3/8-inch rods, bolts, and nuts at each end, and cleats across top at middle. In this house there shall be the following plumbing fixtures, to be fitted up as above: 1 kitchen sink, cellar sink, sink, 1 bath-tub, 1 water-closet, 1 wash-stand. PICTURE MOULDINGS. Picture mouldings should be provided on all plastered walls excepting those of kitchen and pantries. It is usual to place the picture moulding on a line with the top of the door; that is, so that it comes just below the top of the corner block. CLOSET-FITTINGS. Shelves should be seven-eighths inch thick, number and arrangement as desired. The following is a schedule from closet-fittings. Provide hooks in closets as follows:-- One row to cleat on wall 5 feet 3 inches from floor. One row under side of shelf. One row to cleat on wall 3 feet 6 inches from floor in children's closets. DRAWERS FOR CLOSETS. Drawers for closets are best made by a cabinet-maker. If not, they should be modelled in all respects after cabinet work. Cedar closets are not as common as they once were. As people have more to place in them, there is less confidence in their efficacy. The following is from a specification:-- BROOM-RACK.--Provide in space as directed 1 broom-rack, with cast-iron broom-holder, for sweep-broom, whisk-broom; hooks for dust-pan and bucket. MEDICINE-CHEST.--Provide in closet a medicine-chest 8 by 10 by 16 inches, with 7/8 panelled and hinged door. Approved lock. Exposed wood-work thereof same as room in which closet is placed. CEDAR-CLOSET.--Closet shall be lined, ceiled, and fitted up with red cedar. DRY-BOX.--Secured on wall adjacent to kitchen range shall be placed a drying-box for scrub-rags, brushes, etc., 8 inches deep by 18 inches wide by 24 inches high, constructed with 7/8 material, inside measurements. Provide hinged 7/8-inch panelled door with fastening. Top, bottom, and shelves shall be perforated with 3/4-auger-holes for passage of warm air through the box. SOAP-BOX.--Constructed same as dry-box. Size, 9 inches deep, 20 inches wide, 30 inches high. Door, 7/8 inch thick, panelled. Provide approved lock. Shelves, 5/8 thick, set into sides, 3 inches apart. Perforate bottom and shelves with 3/4-inch auger-holes, and connect top with kitchen or vent-flue. CLOCK-SHELF.--Provide 8-inch moulded clock-shelf, 7/8 inch thick, in kitchen. VENTILATOR. CLOTHES-CHUTE. COAL-CHUTE. COAL-BINS IN CELLAR. CHINA-ROOM SPECIFICATION. CUPBOARD (see drawing, Chapter VII.).--Shelves as directed below and above. Lower shelves 7/8 inch thick. Lower doors 7/8 panelled, upper doors glazed. Provide hinges and fastenings for all. There shall be 8 inches space between 7/8-inch top of lower section and bottom shelf of upper section. Upper door shall not come below under side of this upper section shelf. TABLE.--Construction same as in kitchen. SINK. DRAWERS. PANTRY SPECIFICATION. CUPBOARD (see drawing, Chapter VII.).--As indicated. Doors below and shelves above, same as specified for china. No doors above. DOUGH-BOARD.--Provide constructed same as tables specified for kitchen, except that it shall be supported on brackets. FLOUR-BIN.--Shall be 18 inches deep by 24 inches high in front, 28 inches in rear, by ---- long, ---- compartments. Set 4 inches from floor. Top cleated and hinged. Lumber 7/8 inch thick. FLOUR-BIN. The flour-bin described in the specifications is the old kind with the hinged top. Another kind that has been used successfully is here illustrated. [Illustration: Flour-bin Section.] [Illustration: Flour-bin Front] The receptacle for flour is pivoted in the manner indicated by the section. The pivot position is indicated on the drawing by the point of the arrow. The dotted lines on the section indicate the position of the flour receptacle when it is open. It is pulled open by the hand. The knob is shown on the drawing of front. As soon as it is released it falls back into a closed position. It is pivoted so that it remains closed unless held open. The front drawing indicates a flour-bin of this kind with three receptacles; the larger one for flour, and the two smaller ones for meal and graham. The marble dough-stone can be placed on the top of a bin of this kind. If there is no other room for the bin it can be placed in the lower section of the pantry cupboard, and can take the space ordinarily given one of the doors. The pantry cupboard is illustrated and described in Chapter VII. BOXES FOR PANTRY SUPPLIES. These boxes are constructed on the same principle as the flour-bin, just described. They are pivoted and arranged in a row, and may be set on a pantry shelf. The drawing indicates eight of these boxes, four of them nine by twelve inches, and four five by three and three-fourths inches. These boxes are of tin, the frame only being of wood. The socket into which the pivot fits is open at the bottom, so that the box can be lifted off the pivot and taken out and washed. An arrangement such as this takes very little room, and the boxes are always closed unless held open. They are so pivoted that they fall into a closed position as soon as released. Two of these boxes in a china-closet would be convenient to hold bread and cake. [Illustration: Box for Pantry Supplies.] STAIRS. The wood-work of the stairway should always be of hard wood. Where hard wood is used for entire finish, the stairway is best of the same variety. The treads should always be one and one-eighth inch in thickness, and never less than ten inches in width. The risers may be seven-eighths inch thick and never more than seven and one-half inches in height; Square or turned newel posts are in common use. Winders should not be used for the main stairway. Square turns at the landing should be made. Sometimes the rear stairway is of the same general style and design as the front. When it is an open stairway, it is necessary that this should be the case. A rear box stairway, the cellar and attic stairway, or, in fact, any box stairway, should have the treads and risers the same thickness and general dimensions as those mentioned for the front. However, they need not be of hard wood. They should always be provided with hand-rails. All lumber for cellar or attic stairways should be clear and dressed, and quite as well finished as that of any other part of the house. When the cellar is not plastered, the side lining for cellar stairways should be seven-eighths-inch flooring below the first-story plastering. This flooring should be dressed on both sides. The outside cellar-way should have dressed treads and risers one and three-fourths inch thick. The wall should be capped, preferably with stone, and the outside cellar door should be of iron. Where economy is necessary, one-and-three-fourths-inch oak coping and doors may be used. CHAPTER XXXII. PLASTERING.--GRAY FINISH.--WHITE HARD FINISH.--BACK PLASTERING.--GAS-PIPING.--TIN WORK.--GUTTERS.--VALLEYS.--DOWN SPOUTS.--GALVANIZED IRON-WORK.--HOT-AIR PIPES.--THIMBLES.--PAINTING.--STAINING.--OIL FINISHING.--INTERIOR STAINING.--FLOOR FINISH.--GLAZING.--PLATE-GLASS.--BEVELLED GLASS.--CATHEDRAL GLASS.--HARDWARE. It is only within the last ten or fifteen years that it has been at all common to do two-coat work in plastering. Before that time three-coat work was almost universal. Most of the plastering done at this time is what is called "laid-on" work. The first two coats are put on at the same time. The last coat is put on after these are dry. The laths are nearly always of pine. There should be one nail for each contact with the wood-work; that is, four nails to each lath. The mortar should be made of the best quality of lime and sharp sand. A sufficient quantity of hair should be used. The mortar should be floated, or made smooth, and straightened to receive the wood-work. The last coat should be put on after the other is thoroughly dry. It should be trowelled to a smooth surface, and when completed should be free from chip cracks, stains, and improper mixing of sand. Three-coat work, where each coat is allowed to become thoroughly dry, is better than two-coat work. The last coat is usually a white plaster-of-Paris finish, put on with the skim. A gray finish is used more generally at the present time than in the past. It is put on in place of the white skim coat. The natural color is a pleasant gray tint. It may be made smooth enough for papering. The skim coat, white or gray, may be tinted with fresco color at less cost than it can be papered. Paper becomes necessary on a white skim finish after a short time. The hard white finish, which is not commonly used at the present time, is very satisfactory excepting for its extreme whiteness. This finish is made by the use of white sand and skim rubbed and floated down until only a sufficient amount of the lime or skim proper remains to cement the sand to the wall. The same kind of a finish with gray sand is very satisfactory. Proprietary finishes for plastered walls are now used to some extent in the better class of work. They are very hard, of waterproof texture and of any color desired. The coloring of finish for plastering is ordinarily not successful. However, some of the proprietary colored goods before the public are very satisfactory when well put on. The one difficulty in the way of their use is in getting the plasterer to handle properly a thing with which he is not familiar. Back plastering is common in very cold climates, and is done by plastering on the back of the sheathing between the studding. It is independent of the inside plastering. Cement pavements in floors are considered in the previous chapter. GAS-PIPING. Gas-pipes are placed in a house before lathing. The gas company which supplies the illuminating or fuel gas furnishes the inspection for each set of pipes. Below is given a form of specification in use by an architect in a natural-gas region. GAS. ILLUMINATING GAS.--Provide and fix gas-pipe and fittings according to gas company's regulations. All pipes shall be concealed, excepting where it is desired to attach a burner. Cap pipes. Lights to be placed as indicated by table below. FUEL OR NATURAL GAS.--Provide and fix pipe and fittings according to company's regulations. Company's certificate of approval will be required before payments are made. Cap pipes until mixers and burners are attached. Valves and connections shall be provided preparatory to mixer and burner connections. Provide connection with street mains. TABLE OF DISTRIBUTION. +-------------------------+-----------------+---------------+ | |ILLUMINATING GAS.| | | FLOORS. +-----------------+ NATURAL-GAS | | |CENTRE. |BRACKET.| FIRES. | +-------------------------+--------+--------+---------------+ | | | | | | FIRST FLOOR. | | | | | | | | | | Parlor or Reception Room| - | - | - | | Porch | - | - | - | | Sitting-Room | - | - | - | | Front Hall--newel | - | - | - | | Dining-Room | - | - | - | | Library | - | - | - | | Chambers--each | - | - | - | | Rear Hall | - | - | - | | Bedrooms--each | - | - | - | | Kitchen gas stove| - | - | Range. | | Pantry | - | - | - | | China-Room | - | - | - | | Cellar | - | - |{Furnace. | | | | |{Laundry stove.| | | | | | | SECOND FLOOR | | | | | | | | | | Chambers--each | - | - | - | | Bedrooms--each | - | - | - | | Alcove | - | - | - | | Front Hall | - | - | - | | Rear Hall | - | - | - | | Bath-Room | - | - | - | | Attic | - | - | - | +-------------------------+--------+--------+---------------+ TIN WORK. It is now entirely possible to get first-class tin plate for architectural uses. The process is very simple. Require and pay only for a tin plate stamped with a reputable maker's name and brand. There is a general effort upon the part of tin-plate dealers to raise the standard of tin in this way; and there are now a number of manufacturers of integrity who are pursuing the course of branding a first-class tin plate. All tin work should be painted on the under side before it leaves the shop. GUTTERS. In the matter of general utility the hanging gutter is ideal. It is below the eaves, where its overflow can injure nothing. It is easy to reach all parts of it in case of repair. If it is necessary to remove any of the shingles or other roof covering, the gutter need not be disturbed. There are those, however, who object to the appearance of a hanging gutter. A galvanized iron gutter made of No. 26 iron, in form as per Fig. 33, and which runs four inches above the overflow line at all times, may be placed on the first or second row of shingles or slate, and will give very good satisfaction. It is certainly much better than a wood tin-lined gutter. VALLEYS AND OTHER TIN WORK. All valleys should be lined with twenty-inch tin. The connection between all roof and vertical surfaces should be flashed and counter-flashed; that is, pieces of tin should be bent to conform to the vertical and horizontal surfaces, and slipped under the slate or shingles so as to lap both horizontally and vertically. This is the flashing. The counter-flashings are the lapped pieces of tin which extend into the vertical surfaces, and down over the flashings proper. All wood-work which projects in excess of one and three-eighths inch from any vertical surface, should be covered with tin. Hip and ridge coping should be covered with tin in the manner described in chapter where roofs are considered. Down spouts should be provided to carry the water from all roofs to the ground. The presence of more than one gable in the front part of the building frequently makes more than one down spout necessary. Where the house is not too large, one five-inch spout will usually take all of the water from the roof. For a small structure a four-inch spout will serve the same purpose. Three and four inches are in common use for carrying water from the main roof where the continuous course of the gutter is interrupted by gables or dormers. The cistern down-spout should be provided with cut-off or preferably a switch spout, which connects by a drain pipe with a dry well or street gutter. Such connections should never be made with the sewer where a down spout is intended to supply a cistern. In connecting a roof with a cistern it should be borne in mind that it is not always so much the size of the cistern which insures a constant supply of water, as it is the amount of roof surface connected with the cistern. Porches are usually provided with two or three inch down spouts according to the amount of roof to be drained. Flat roofs are best when made with a standing seam. It admits of the expansion and contraction of the tin without injury to the joint. Copper has been extensively used on the better class of buildings during recent years. The improvement in the quality of tin has rendered its use unnecessary excepting for down spouts and ornamental purposes. New processes in the manufacture of sheet copper, and the electroplating of other sheet metals with copper, promise to reduce the cost of that material for architectural purposes, so that it will be better and cheaper than tin. When such claims are substantiated the public will be informed thereof, through the usual channels. Galvanized iron does not have the general architectural uses that were common to it a few years ago. For down spouts in excess of four inches, No. 26 galvanized iron should be used. Hot-air pipes which connect the furnace pipes in basement with the second floor are usually three and three-fourths by twelve inches in size. Before they are placed, all contiguous wood-work should be lined with tin. In frame houses the pipes should be covered with iron lath. They should continue above baseboard, with register opening on second floor and below joist with collar in basement. Where pipes run in an outside wood wall, which they should do only in case of extremest emergency, the back and sides of the pipe should be lined with several thicknesses of asbestos paper. A zinc drain should be provided from the refrigerator to the outside of brick wall. This drain is one inch in diameter, and comes up through the floor with funnel-shaped opening at the top. An ordinary six-inch tin funnel let into the tube will answer every purpose. Thus the discharge pipe from the refrigerator may be readily placed over it. Thimbles should be provided for the plasterer when he is putting on the last coat. Flue stops should be placed therein after plastering is finished. These are for stove connections with brick flues. PAINTING. Painting is not so serious a problem as it once was. We hear about people buying their own paint, the lead and everything that goes with it, and having it mixed under their personal supervision. But even this is not satisfactory. After a short time the paint begins to look chalky and dingy. When the mixing of the paint is not done under the supervision of the owner, and the result is as above stated, the painter is often accused of dishonesty. A painter does not ordinarily have the facilities or knowledge for properly mixing colored paints. In order to get satisfactory results in painting, we may again fall back upon the integrity of an established manufacturer of proprietary goods,--that is, upon ready-mixed paints. Not all are good. Most of them are made as cheap and common as possible; but the best results can be secured from really good ready-mixed paints. Any large dealer of established reputation, who is not himself a manufacturer of a cheap paint, may ordinarily be relied upon for a correct opinion. Preparatory to painting, all knots should be coated with shellac. All work should be painted with three coats,--one priming, and two following. One can always be sure of getting the color wanted in ready-mixed paints of the best quality. All outside frames should be primed before setting. The painter should follow the carpenter, and prime all dressed wood-work as put up. Putty work may be done after first coat, or before final color is applied. There is no advantage to be derived in painting shingles after they are put on. The paint gathers in a heavy ridge on the shingle next to the butt of the one above it in a way to let the moisture lie therein, so that it will rot at this point. Brick-work may be painted as specified for wood-work, excepting that the first coat, or priming, should be put on very heavy. Tin and iron work should be painted with one coat of metallic paint as soon as put up. Tin unexposed to view should receive a second coat of metallic paint before the building is completed. Tin work exposed to view should have two coats of paint on a metallic prime, same as house. EXTERIOR STAINING. Shingles should be dipped in stain and then stood in a trough, so that they will drain to a barrel. Other external wood-work should have two heavy coats of stain applied with a brush. Weather-boarding is sometimes dipped into a trough filled with stain, and then set so that it will drain therein. Shingle stain is a proprietary finish, and regularly advertised in leading periodicals. INTERIOR STAINING. The staining of interior finish is now rendered simple and satisfactory by the use of proprietary stains. Sometimes the stain is put on direct, without first applying filler. At other times a filler of cornstarch and oil, or a proprietary mixture, which is preferable, is used. One or two coats of prepared oil-finish follows the application of the stain. The various manufacturers of interior stains furnish wood samples which indicate the variety of this material manufactured. OIL FINISHING. All wood to be oil-finished should first be filled. The antique and acid stained effects are derived by the use of different kinds of fillers, which close the pores of the wood and stain it the color desired. Proprietary fillers and oil finish may be most successfully used, for the reason that they are generally prepared by men who have put their capital into the business for the purpose of getting a return. Such people cannot put a bad article permanently on the market without feeling the result themselves. Therefore, those who are permanently successful in the manufacture of proprietary goods can generally be relied upon. In the finishing of wood-work all under coats should be rubbed with dry hair-cloth, burlap, or fine sand-paper. On top of the filler two coats of prepared oil finish should be applied; the first one rubbed as above, and, if desired, the last left bright. A dead finish may be secured by rubbing down the last coat with fine pumice stone and water or oil. External exposed wood-work and bath-rooms may be finished with a water-proof varnish by treating as above, excepting that the last coat should be a water-proof oil finish made by some well-known manufacturer. FLOOR FINISH. All manufacturers of first-class interior finishes prepare a special floor finish. It is usually applied in two coats over a filler as described. In such cases the filler is not stained. Each coat is thoroughly rubbed. A satisfactory floor finish may be made by washing the clean wood floor with a solution of salt and water, and afterwards saturating with paraffine wax, and then rubbing. GLAZING. All glass should be embedded in putty and secured with glazier's tacks and putty. American sheet glass is made in two thicknesses--single and double strength--and in four qualities. _A_ or _AA_ only should be used in a good house. Plate glass costs about five or six times as much as double-strength _A_ American sheet. A thumb rule for calculating the cost of plate glass, which is not strictly accurate but which gives a general idea, is to calculate on from fifty to seventy-five cents per square foot. CATHEDRAL GLASS. Of cathedral glass proper there is only one quality. In ornamental and colored glass work the different kinds of glass used will not be here enumerated. Bevelled plate is becoming quite common. Generally speaking, cathedral glass may be arranged in geometrical forms in sash with wood separations or muntins. Cathedral glass proper for such purposes costs from twenty-five to thirty-five cents a square foot. Cathedral glass leaded may cost almost any amount in excess of a dollar per square foot. In selecting cathedral glass for sash with wood separations, the best and most satisfactory results may be reached by choosing the lighter tints, and not having more than one or two colors to the window. HARDWARE. It is difficult if not impossible to write a general specification for the hardware which goes into a house. It cannot be done excepting by specifying particular goods, which cannot be done here. However, a few general statements in regard to hardware may not be amiss. The cheapest locks used should have brass fronts and bolts, and be of the mortise pattern. Night-locks should be provided as desired. Outside knobs of rear door and those inside the kitchen may be of bronzed iron. The price of bronzed-faced locks is not much greater than brass-faced locks. A good bronzed-iron knob has not been made up to this time. Therefore, the fixtures for the front door, if not all others, should be of real bronze. Butts of bronzed iron have been made which are very satisfactory. Sash locks should be provided for all windows. Sliding-door hardware should be of real bronze. The locks should be what is known as "astragal" fronts, and the trimmings flush. Sliding doors should be suspended from above on hangers. Bolts of wrought-iron should be placed on all outside rear doors, and, if desired, on the inside of all chamber and bedroom doors; always on the bath-room door. Such bolts may be mortised or otherwise, as desired. Foot and top bolts may be provided for double doors and for sash. Pivots should be provided for all transoms; transom lifts as desired, also sash lifts. There should be wooden base knobs with rubber buffers at all doors. Double-spring hinges should be provided for doors leading to and from kitchen and china-closet or passage. Necessary drawer hardware should be provided, and butts, knobs, and fastenings for inside shutters. CHAPTER XXXIII. PRACTICAL PLUMBING.--WOOD-WORK FOR PLUMBER.--EXCAVATING FOR PLUMBER.--WATER DISTRIBUTION.--OUTSIDE FIXTURES.--HYDRANTS.--STREET-WASHERS.--SOFT-WATER SUPPLY.--HOT-WATER SUPPLY.--SOIL PIPE.--INSIDE FIXTURES.--KITCHEN SINK.--CELLAR SINK. In a previous chapter plumbing was considered from a sanitary standpoint, and the conditions of safety set forth. In this chapter it remains to consider plumbing work in a more practical way; to consider it with reference to its execution, assuming that it is desired to reach the best results. This means, primarily, good work; then good work with the least expenditure of money. The carpenter usually provides all necessary wood-work for the plumber. This means boards and runs on which pipes are to be placed, the pipe duct and other wood finish. It is best that the carpenter should do this in order that it may be well done. There should be specified in the carpenter's contract exactly what he is to do, so that he may calculate on a definite basis. All of the cutting work, where cutting is necessary, should be done by the carpenter. The plumber is not usually supplied with tools of the right kind for doing this, and is as liable to botch carpenter work as a carpenter would be to botch the plumbing work. The plumber should do all of his own excavating. This includes trenches for pipes of all kinds to and from the house. After the pipes and drains have been placed therein, he should make fills and thoroughly tamp the earth so as to restore the surface to its original condition. This may be best done by putting in a small quantity of earth at a time, ramming it down and then pouring water on it. Even after this the drain space should be left with a slight crown, as the earth will settle a little more than it is possible to make it by artificial means. Superfluous earth should be removed from the building and lot. Plumber's excavating is not included in the general contract. If there is any superfluous earth in connection with his work, he, and not the general contractor, should remove it. Contracting methods are explained in another section of the book. WATER DISTRIBUTION. Lead should be used for all purposes where pipes are exposed to view and where they come in contact with the earth. This is common practice. Sometimes, however, brass or planished copper pipes and fittings are used where they are exposed to view. Brass makes very beautiful and satisfactory work. Iron pipe, galvanized inside and out, is occasionally used for exposed work. It does not look as well, however, as lead pipe. Galvanized iron pipe is also frequently used where not exposed to view, and where it does not come in contact with the earth. Objections will be made to this by plumbers who are used to doing lead work. In all hospitals where the best work is done iron or brass pipe is used, and lead pipe and connections are entirely dispensed with. However, the use of lead pipe where exposed to view and where in contact with the earth, and iron pipe galvanized for other places, makes most excellent and beautiful work for dwelling-houses. The connections between iron and lead pipe should be of brass. The water works of many cities and towns are from direct-pressure mains. It is common for such pressure to be forty pounds to the square inch under ordinary conditions. A fire pressure is much greater. Therefore, all direct-pressure pipes of lead should be extra strong. Tank-pressure pipes, those which connect with a tank in the attic or above a water-closet, may be medium strong. The terms "extra strong" and "medium strong," as here used, are definite in their meaning, and apply to regular grades of pipe. The interior fixtures of an ordinary dwelling-house are supplied with lead pipe five-eighths of an inch in diameter, or iron pipe three-quarters of an inch in diameter. In the above will be found all that applies in general terms to an ordinary specification for water distribution. Special mention will be made later. Stop-cocks should be provided sufficient entirely to disconnect and drain all pipes, fixtures, and connections. "Stop-and-waste" cocks should be provided at the bottom of all main risers where they cannot otherwise be drained. A "stop-and-waste" cock is one which shuts off the supply from its source, and drains the water from pipes above, so that it passes out to a receptacle provided for that purpose. In some instances it is allowed to run to a sink on the cellar floor, or it may be taken in a bucket. The city water-supply for an ordinary dwelling-house is generally through five-eighths-inch extra strong lead pipe, and is provided with a stop-box so that the water can be turned off from the house at the street. OUTSIDE FIXTURES. Outside fixtures which connect with the city water are a street-washer and a hydrant. The street-washer is usually placed in front, so that a hose may be attached to it for sprinkling purposes. There are many standard grades of street-washers carried in stock by all plumbers. The hydrant has about the same lower connections as the street-washer. The hose connection and opening stand well above the lot grade. It is usually placed in the back yard or stable. The outlet may have a hose coupling, and thus be used for sprinkling purposes in the back part of the lot or otherwise, as desired. Where there are no hydrants, it is common to run an iron pipe along the ground to connect the front and back yard. Thus it is not necessary to have so large a supply of hose. The pipe thus used is three-quarters of an inch in diameter. It is less expensive than rubber hose, and does not deteriorate. It should have a short hose connection in front, and hose coupling at the back. SOFT-WATER SUPPLY. In many cities the water from the public pipes contains too much lime to be used for bathing or washing. In such a case it is necessary to supply cistern water for that purpose. This is done by connecting the cistern in the yard with a tank in the attic, or some place above the highest fixture. To do this a force pump is placed in the kitchen. The best kind to use are those known as double-acting, horizontal, brass-cylinder force pumps. They may be screwed to the floor, and the handle come up next to the sink or between the drain-board and the dry-board. When not in use, this handle can be next to the wall and out of the way. A motor may be used in lieu of a pump. It is placed over the kitchen sink, and has connection with city water works. When it is desired to pump water to the attic, one can turn on the city water at the cock and let it run. Thus the city pressure is exerted through the motor to pump water to the attic, and the labor of pumping entirely done away with. The cost is about fifteen dollars more than a good pump. The suction of such a pump or motor should be one-and-one-half-inch strong lead pipe, and the supply to tank in attic one-and-one-quarter-inch lead or iron pipe where not exposed to view. Where the pump or motor is placed as indicated, it may be used to pump water directly to the kitchen sink, and it is generally best that such an arrangement be made. Of course, water may be drawn from the tank in the attic to this sink, if it is desired to so arrange it; but where this is done, it is necessary to pump all of the cold water used in the kitchen to the attic. This is unnecessary. The sink may have a direct pump connection by means of a five-eighths-inch strong lead pipe which connects with the tank supply. On the end of this lead pipe may be a brass or nickel compression cock over the sink. When it is desired to pump water into the tank this cock is closed, and the only connection is with the tank above. The common size for tank is eight barrels capacity. It should be constructed of inch-and-three-quarters ploughed and tongued material with two three-eighths inch rods, with bolts and nuts at each end, and cleats across top and bottom in middle. The inside should be lined with four-pound sheet lead; that is, sheet lead which weighs four pounds to the foot. There should be an inch tell-tale pipe of galvanized iron which connects with the sink nearest the pump. Sometimes an overflow which runs to the roof is used, in which case a smaller tell-tale, say one-half inch in diameter, will serve. There are instances where the tank in the attic is connected with a special gutter on the roof, above the line of the tank. Then the tank is provided with a large overflow so that it may not cause trouble. However, this is a little risky. The tank is connected with the hot and cold water system and fixtures subsequently named. The hot-water system is as simple as it is efficient. Usually a heavy-pressure galvanized-iron boiler, of from twenty-four to sixty-two gallons capacity, is located in the kitchen. It is connected with the tank by means of five-eighths-inch lead or three-quarters-inch iron pipe, and with fixtures subsequently named as being supplied with hot water in the same manner. The water is heated in the range by means of a water back or water front placed in the fire-box of the range. It is connected with the boiler by means of five-eighths-inch lead and three-quarters-inch iron pipe. One pipe from the lower part of the boiler takes the water to the back. The other carries it to the top of the boiler, the cold water naturally going to the bottom and the hot water passing to the top. The hot-water supply for fixtures is drawn from the top of the boiler. Any one may notice, by passing the hand up and down a boiler of this kind, that the top is always warmer than the bottom. Sometimes a wrought-iron pipe is used in a stove in lieu of a water back. It usually answers the same purpose, though its heating surface is not so great. It is best to use a pipe back where the boiler is not connected with soft water. The incrustation from the lime is such that the back soon becomes filled, and it is much more expensive to replace than one made of pipe. When the hot water is from the city water works, the supply is usually directly therefrom rather than from a tank in the attic. However, it is not uncommon to have a tank supply in the house where public-water supply is taken to the exclusion of all other, and it is a better system, though a little more expensive. The hot-water reservoir is usually placed on an iron stand near the stove. It should be provided with a draining connection for the purpose of drawing out all the water when desired. A vent connection from the reservoir to the tank in attic, or, in the event of no tank being used, to the roof above, is common as a guard against extra steam pressure. SOIL PIPE. Before considering other inside fixtures and fittings, the soil pipe should be mentioned. It is of cast-iron, light weight, and, when it is connected with a water-closet, should be four inches in diameter on the inside, and japanned inside and out. Joints are made at the hubs, and should be leaded and well calked. Connections with this pipe should be made by means of Y's of proper size, depending on the size of the drain which connects therewith. The soil pipe should continue upward and through the roof to a point at least four feet above the nearest ridge. Below, it should continue outside of the foundation wall to connect with the drain. Where there is a sink in the cellar, the soil pipe should be below the cellar floor. Vitrified or earthenware drain pipe should never be used inside the walls of a house. INSIDE FIXTURES. The kitchen sink may be considered first. They are usually of light cast-iron. Sometimes they are of pressed steel; again, they are of cast-iron with an interior porcelain finish. If a common cast-iron sink is painted, the paint soon wears off. The ideal sink, the one which is the best in every way, is of porcelain. It has the white, glazed surface of a fine dish, and is easily cleaned. Any kitchen sink should be eighteen inches wide, six inches deep, and from twenty-four to thirty-six inches in length. Thirty or thirty-six is the best. They are provided with a strainer in the bottom, and have one-and-one-half-inch light lead "S" trap connection with soil pipe or grease sink, subsequently considered. Where city water is at hand, the sink should be supplied through a five-eighths-inch brass or nickel-plated self-closing cock. Where the city water is hard, hot and cold cistern water in addition to city water should be supplied through five-eighths-inch brass or nickel-plated compression cocks. If the hot water is from the public water works, a self-closing cock should be used. All cocks should be screwed to a soldered nipple, and not "wiped" or joined directly to the lead pipe. In this way, it is not necessary to wipe a joint every time the cock gives out. A smaller sink, size as desired, may be used in the china-closet or butler's pantry. Such a sink is not in common use excepting in the more expensive houses. The cellar sink should be sixteen by sixteen inches, ten inches deep, and should be provided with strainer, and an inch-and-a-half light lead "S" trap connection with soil pipe. If city supply only is desired, it may be had through five-eighths-inch brass self-closing cock. Where connection is made with cistern, it may be by means of one-and-one-half inch pipe and a cast-iron pitcher pump; if not this, a well, driven or otherwise, may be similarly connected by means of a pitcher or lift pump. This cellar sink is the kind that may be used in connection with the laundry previously described. Where stationary tubs are used, this sink is not necessary. CHAPTER XXXIV. PLUMBING WORK CONTINUED.--BATH-TUBS.--BATH-SPRINKLERS.--FOOT-TUBS.--SAFES. --WATER-CLOSETS.--WASH-STANDS.--LAUNDRY FITTINGS.--SET TUBS. --OUTSIDE DRAINS.--GREASE SINKS.--NICKEL FITTINGS. The fittings of kitchen and other sinks are fully considered in Chapter V., which has to do with kitchens and pantries. It is sufficient to say, however, that the only visible wood-work is the rim and wooden legs, which support the sink proper, and the splash-boards at the side tables as described. BATH-TUBS. A great deal might be said on this subject, which must be left unsaid for the want of space. The ideal bath-tub, the one which in every way is the most satisfactory, is made of porcelain, same as the sinks described. They are beautiful in appearance, easily cleaned, and altogether very satisfactory. However, they are expensive. For the tub alone the cost is about one hundred dollars more than for one of copper. They are used in houses where the matter of cost is not of great importance. Cast-iron, porcelain-lined, and cast-iron tubs, painted, are used occasionally in dwellings. They are more expensive than the copper tubs. An iron porcelain-lined tub is much less expensive than solid porcelain, and is very satisfactory. The iron and porcelain tubs do not require side or end casings of wood. They stand clear of wall and floor. As is known, tubs are of varying sizes and forms, the usual length being from four and one-half to six feet. The tubs known as the "French" pattern are commonly four and one-half feet long, and deeper and wider than the ordinary copper tub. The weight of the copper varies from nine to sixteen ounces to the foot; fourteen-ounce copper tubs are in most general use. The French pattern of tub is coming into more general use than the others in the best class of work. As stated before, it is wider and deeper, though shorter than the old six-foot tub of the common pattern. It does not require as much water to get the same depth in the shorter tub as in one that is longer. As no one cares to lie down in the bath-tub, six feet in length is not necessary; four and one-half feet is ample. The ordinary fixtures which go with a bath-tub of moderate cost are the combination bath-cock with rubber hose and sprinkler, and a plug and chain. All the metal work is nickel-plated. A combination bath-cock connection with hot and cold water mixes the water as it passes into the tub, so that the proper temperature may be secured by the adjustment of the valves. The most objectionable feature to the tub of general construction is the overflow which connects with the waste. It is simply a tube which has a single opening below the bath-cock to the waste pipe. This soon becomes foul. Various ingenious devices have been arranged for doing away with this kind of overflow. Arrangements are provided which connect directly with the outlet, and which may be readily removed and cleaned. These prevent the passage of water to the drain when tub is in use. By a movement of a handle in the top the passage may be opened below to allow the water to pass out. There are many devices constructed on this principle. In some instances they add only two or three dollars to the cost of the plumbing outfit, and are certainly worth the extra expense. There are arrangements where the finish is more elaborate, the details more complete, and the cost largely in excess of the figure here named. The same device applies to the various tubs, porcelain, iron, or copper. Formerly it was common to have a large sprinkler connected with hot and cold water above the tub; this is now unusual. It was impossible to use this sprinkler without wetting the head. For that reason the hose and sprinkler has largely taken its place in ordinary work. However, the sprinkler is a very good thing, though it is not put in excepting where the hose attachment is also supplied. Another modern arrangement which has to do with the sprinkler is a surrounding rubber curtain, which is supported by a plated ring on a level with one's head when standing. This prevents the splashing of water out of the tub. It goes against the curtain, and is thus deflected into the tub. Various arrangements on this principle, looking to hot or steam baths, have been devised. They surround the person bathing, leaving only the head exposed, and discharge the warm water into the confined space surrounding the body. This is a makeshift to take the place of hot and steam baths. In some instances, one-third of the foot end of the tub is fitted with a copper-lined enclosure on three sides, with shower at top. One may stand in this space and use the shower as with the curtain. Additions are sometimes made to this arrangement, wherein the side spray or needle bath is provided. It is so called from the needle size of the streams, which are emitted from certain pipes. All of these showers are connected with regulating valves, so that any desired temperature of water may be maintained by proper adjustment. In some very elaborate bath-rooms showers are provided at the side of the room where there is a marble floor and marble wall surface. These things are arranged with a multiplicity of detail, showing the ingenuity of people who have given these matters much study, and which cannot be fully considered in this connection. Foot-tubs, with hot and cold water connections, are made of the same material that is used in bath-tubs, but are not considered in the plans furnished in this book, though they may be used at will. The bath-tub will serve the same general purpose. As stated, the bath-tubs connect with hot and cold water; they connect with soil pipe or drain by means of one-and-one-half-inch light lead waste pipe, which is trapped by means of an "S" or other trap. SAFES. A safe is simply a lead pan which may be placed under the bath-tub, or other enclosed fixture, to guard against accidents from overflow or leakage. They are made of four-pound sheet lead, and are usually turned up from two to four inches all around. The lead is formed to a bevelled strip at the sides and end, the size of the pan being that of the extreme outside of the fixture. There is usually an inch waste connection to the cellar or kitchen sink. It would be highly improper to connect a safe with the drain, trapped or otherwise, as its use under any circumstances will be occasional, and any water that there might be in the trap would be certain to evaporate, and in that way the safe waste would be the means of connecting the foulness of the drain with the house. Therefore, it is right and proper that it should connect with the sink or the cellar floor. In that way, any discharge therefrom would be readily noticed. Wastes are frequently placed under bath-tubs, generally under wash-stands, when they are enclosed, but rarely or never under a modern water-closet. They are frequently dispensed with entirely. WATER-CLOSETS. Fig. 7, page 68, indicates, in perspective and in section, the more common form of water-closet now in use, than which nothing-better has been devised. The details of the valve connection and general form of the closet itself, and the means of flushing it, are various, but the general principle is the same. It is nothing more or less than a large bowl having an "S" trap connection with soil pipe. The bowl and trap are of white porcelain ware, in one piece. The form, as here shown, is a washout closet, and is the one in most general use. Usually a connection with public water service is provided from a tank above. Trap vent, as shown, is connected with the outer air above the roof. The seat of the closet is usually supported from the wall at the back, and rests on the body of the porcelain, on rubber buffers, which prevent the liability of breakage or noise, if it falls. Under any circumstances, water-closets should never be enclosed. WASH-STANDS. It has been said that wash-stands are the most dangerous fixtures that go into a house, and for that reason the greatest care should be observed in their construction. The only material of which the bowl proper, for use in a dwelling-house, should be made is porcelain. The usual form is circular, and about fourteen inches in diameter. However, they are made in various forms. The details of their construction differ as greatly as those of the other fixtures which have been named. Bowls are made which have the same "patent" overflow arrangements as the bath-tub overflows that have been considered and described elsewhere. It is usual, however, to use a rubber plug and chain. The top and back of the wash-stand should be of marble. The top should be one and one-eighth inch thick, counter-sunk, so that the splashed water cannot run from it to the floor; the back need be only seven-eighths inch thick, and generally not more than ten inches high. Sometimes it may be less. The hot and cold water fixtures are nickel-plated; usually they are made self-closing, to prevent the waste of water. It is necessary that they should be so where city water is used. It is part of the city regulations that all connections of this kind be self-closing. Wash-stands need not be enclosed below. The marble top may be supported on iron brackets or turned wooden legs of hard wood. Traps and other drain connections can be neatly arranged so that their appearance is not in any sense objectionable in the bath-room or other place. The wash-stand should have one-and-one-half-inch light lead trapped connection with the drain or soil pipe. Generally speaking, it is not necessary for the trap to be ventilated, unless it so happen that it is some distance from the soil pipe or drain. The soil pipe, we know, is always ventilated, and if the wash-stand is situated some distance from it, it should have a direct communication with the outer air above the roof. Sometimes a pitcher-cock is placed on the wash-stand in the bath-room to enable the drawing of drinking water when the other connections are with the cistern, it being assumed in this instance that only the water from public water works is used for drinking purposes. The pitcher-cock is simply one with a long neck which extends above the bowl, and is directed into it, the pitcher being placed under it for the purpose of filling. LAUNDRY FITTINGS. The fittings for a simple laundry apparatus, that would go into a house of very moderate cost, have been described elsewhere. In this instance we will consider only the more elaborate arrangements which have to do with set tubs. They may be of porcelain or plain cast-iron, of cast-iron porcelain-lined, or of brown glazed earthenware. The porcelain is of the same general character as that mentioned for the bath-tub and sinks, and is an expensive and very elegant material. The porcelain-lined iron tubs are in more general use, for the reason that they are less expensive than those of all porcelain. Brown earthenware tubs are coming to be favorably considered, and are in every way satisfactory. Tubs made of wood, slate, or other material, where they are in several pieces, are objectionable. Those mentioned above are one-piece tubs, and are generally set three together. The porcelain or brown earthenware tubs usually have wooden rims. Sometimes these tubs are provided with covers, though it is usual and preferable that covers be not used, and that the water be supplied from above. The hot and cold water fixtures are nickel-plated compression cocks, which connect with hot and cold water sources. Generally speaking, it is best, where set tubs are used, that an independent apparatus for heating water be provided; that is, a laundry water heater, of which there are many different kinds, and which are constructed on the same general principle as the arrangement mentioned in connection with the kitchen and other water-heating apparatus. It is entirely possible, however, to make connections with the water-heating apparatus of the kitchen. The drain connections are of one-and-one-half-inch light lead, and are independently trapped for each tub. They lead to the main drain, connecting with sewer or vault. OUTSIDE DRAINS. Drains outside of the house should be of vitrified or glazed earthenware pipe, laid below the action of frost, with proper slant. They should be well bedded and have smoothly cemented joints. The slant need be very slight, eighteen inches in eighty feet or less may be used. It is especially desirable that the joints be thoroughly cemented, and that they be smooth on the inside, so that the foul matter passing through the interior will not lodge against any projections. The surface or ends of the pipe should never be clipped or cut for connections; "Y's" or "T's" are used for all connections with other drains. Drain pipes from a dwelling-house are usually five or six inches in diameter. It is quite as important that they be not too large as that they be large enough. Where a pipe is too large, there is not enough water in the bottom to keep it clean. The illustration here given will make clear this point. A six and eight inch drain is shown with the same quantity of water in each. It is common in cases of drain connection with a vault that no trap in the drain or soil pipe itself be used. Where sewer connection is made, a vitrified trap of the same size as the drain is used; and it is provided with a trap vent connection with the outer air by means of vitrified vent and grate opening at the top. [Illustration: Fig. 38] Storm-water connections may be made with the main sewer, but it is best that they be made between the house and the trap of main drain. In this way there is no danger of the sewer having connection with the down spouts in the event of the evaporation of the water in the trap of the storm-water connection. The modern plan of city sewer systems is to have independent service for storm water and house drain connections. GREASE SINKS. The grease sink is lined with brick, and is usually of four or five barrels capacity. It is cemented the same as the cistern, is generally twenty or twenty-five feet away from the house, and has a four-inch vitrified drain connection with the waste from the kitchen sink or other sink in which greasy water may be deposited. The sink itself has a siphon connection with the main drain or vault, and, being provided with an iron top, the deposit of grease or other material may be removed if necessary. In some instances a sink of this kind is required to be used to collect all solid matter before the drainage connection passes from the property. * * * * * The "S" trap only has been distinctly mentioned. There are hundreds of others, all constructed upon the same general principle. Some are provided with mechanical means of closing the opening leading to the source of supply, and, in addition to this, they are provided with a seal of water depending upon some form or condition of the "S" trap. This principle is invariable in the construction of traps. No trap should be used unless provided with a trap screw of the same size as the drain itself, which will admit of its being opened when necessary. It is not uncommon that rings or other jewelry get into the waste of wash-stand or bath-tub; they may be recovered by taking out the trap screw. Again, should the trap become fouled or clogged, the matter may be removed in the same way. NICKEL FITTINGS. For the kitchen sink, nickel fittings are preferable to brass, because they are more easily cleaned. CHAPTER XXXV. COST OF A HOUSE.--SCHEDULES OF COSTS.--WHAT GOES INTO A HOUSE.--SCHEDULE "B."--COST DETAILS. What makes the cost of a house? Everything that has been placed on the lot when the structure is completed. Below is a form or schedule, with blanks, filled out by an architect for a gentleman for whom he made plans. JOHN SMITH,--As I understand your wants, would estimate the cost of improvements contemplated on No. Delaware Street as follows:-- Building--1st floor finish hard wood, 2d floor finish poplar, $3,000 Privy and Vault $35 Cistern and Connections 50 Well, Connections, and Pump 35 Walks, 40 yards at 70 cents 28 Fences--Tight board, 160 feet at 25 cents, Picket none, 40 Illuminating-Gas Pipe 30 Plumbing--Cellar sink 1, Kitchen sink 1, Bath-tub 1, W. C. 1, W. S. 1, St. Washer 1, City and Cistern Water, 275 Natural-Gas Pipe, without burners or burner fittings 35 Gas Fixtures 50 Mantels and Grates 3, Average cost $40 120 Furnace 250 Plate Glass 50 Cathedral Glass 25 Electric Work--Door bell 2, Kitchen bell 1 25 ----- 1,128 ------ Without Architect's fee $4,128 Everything that goes into a house should be fully represented to the owner. Thus the costs may be fixed and the aggregate understood. If this were universally done, there would be less said about the unreliability of architects' estimates. If the architect is very careful to make known to the owner the quality of everything that he is to have, and, as well, the general quantities and costs, he is doing his full duty in this matter. Anything less than this is a neglect of duty. Furthermore, this should be made a matter of record, so that if changes are made and the cost altered, a basis for comparison may be at hand. It is the practice of the writer to use a specification which describes everything which may be a part of a brick or a frame house, and to stamp out the parts omitted. For example, in that specification there are specified brick and cemented floors for cellar. It is the custom to stamp the word "No" before the words brick floor, so that it reads "No brick floor in cellar." In other cases it may be "No lattice work in side yard," etc. Thus the owner of the house knows not only what he is to get, but what he is not to get, and the exact quality of that which is included as well as that which is omitted. He has positive and negative information with respect to his house. This form of specification has been in use three years, and has been uniformly satisfactory. The schedule filled out for Mr. Smith is a printed form, which is handed to the owner as soon as the building cost is determined. It is in addition to the detailed specification. In the schedule the cost of the building is put down at three thousand dollars. The appurtenances are the items mentioned below the line which gives the price of the building proper, and in this instance are estimated at $1,128. The house estimate is $3,000. This makes a total cost of $4,128. The house was a well-finished building of nine rooms. The parlor and hall were finished in quartered oak, the dining and sitting rooms in quartered sycamore, the rear hall in quartered oak, the china-room in sycamore, kitchen and pantry in plain oak. It would have cost about $125 less to finish the first floor of this house in soft wood. It is not possible to give general statements as to the difference in cost of finishing between hard and soft wood. Twenty to thirty-five dollars a room is generally ample, though the difference may be greater. The privy building was figured at twenty dollars, and the vault at a dollar a foot. The cistern and connections at fifty cents a barrel. Thus a hundred-barrel cistern costs fifty dollars. The well pump, which was located in the kitchen, was a cheap form of horizontal force-pump fastened to the floor, with the handle coming up near the kitchen table. It supplied water to the kitchen sink. It, as well as the cistern pump, was included in the plumbing contract. The walks were ordinary brick walks laid in sand. Tight-board fence was figured, as shown, at twenty-five cents a lineal foot. The illuminating-gas pipe was figured at a little less than the price given on schedule "B," but was ample. The same may be said of the plumbing work. The gas fixtures were neat brass goods that looked plain in the store surrounded with very elaborate ones, but were entirely satisfactory when in the house. The mantels and grates, as may be judged by their cost, were not very elaborate. However, they were of wood, the same style and finish as the room. There were bevelled-glass mirrors above the shelves. The hearth and facing were of unglazed tile, the grate-frame of brass, the grate itself club pattern, and altogether it was simple but pleasing. The furnace was of wrought-iron, riveted joints, with galvanized iron jacket. It would have cost about fifteen or twenty dollars more to set it in brick. This price included registers, pipes in the wall, and all connections. If the building had cost a thousand dollars more, or even two thousand, the appurtenances need not have cost more than a hundred to a hundred and fifty dollars additional. There would probably have been a little more gas pipe, a few more fixtures, and the furnace would have been somewhat more expensive; or, if the house had cost five hundred dollars less, the appurtenances would not have represented in all more than seventy-five dollars difference, providing the general requirements had been the same. The following schedule was prepared for Mr. Brown. His was an eight-room house; smaller, less elaborate, but just as well built, as the one for Mr. Smith. He did not have quite as much plumbing, and reduced the other appurtenances somewhat. Altogether they represent $801. If his had been a fifteen-hundred-dollar house, and the same general conditions had been met, the appurtenances would not have cost any less. Likewise, if it had been a two-thousand-dollar house, they would have cost no more. Additions to size of rooms or a more elaborate finish would not have appreciably affected the cost of the appurtenances. It is well to bear this in mind when building. WILLIAM BROWN,--As I understand your wants, would estimate the cost of improvements contemplated on No. Alabama Street as follows:-- Building--1st floor finish hard wood, 2d floor finish poplar, $1,700 Privy and Vault $40 Cistern and Connections 40 No Well, Connections, and Pump Walks, 30 yards at 70 cents 21 Fences--Tight board, 100 at 25 cents, Picket none 25 Illuminating-Gas Pipe 25 Plumbing--Cellar sink none, Kitchen sink 1, Bath-tub 1, W. C. 1, W. S. 1, St. Washer 1, City Water 200 Natural-Gas Pipe, without burners or burner fittings 30 Gas Fixtures 35 Mantels and Grates 3, Average cost $40 120 Furnace 240 Plate Glass 20 Cathedral Glass none Electric Work--Door bell 1, Kitchen bell none 5 ____ 801 ______ Without Architect's fee $2,501 The two examples given show the method of filling out a cost schedule, which, by the way, is seldom presented in this form to the owner of a house by his architect. It now remains to indicate, in general terms, the basis of values as before given. It is not intended to form this book on the "every-man-his-own-architect" principle, but it is constructed on the idea that every one should know as much about the business in hand as is possible, before calling for other assistance. For this purpose certain prices are given which are a little in advance of those charged in the section of country to which they apply. This is done so that the errors, if any, may be on the side of safety. Generally speaking, there will not be any great difference in the cost of the appurtenances mentioned. It is the cost of the building proper which varies. The cost of the buildings illustrated is given, unless otherwise mentioned, on a basis of hard-wood finish for the first floor excepting kitchen, and soft wood above, all finished in oil. Below is the schedule "B," so frequently referred to in the description of house plans. SCHEDULE "B." Building.--First floor finish hard wood; second floor, soft wood. Where estimates are given in the book on the basis of schedule "B," they include only the building, as mentioned above, and do not include the following items:-- Privy building, $20; vault, $1 per foot for each foot in depth. Cistern and connections, $0.50 per barrel; pump, $5 to $35; well, $0.75 per lineal foot; pump and connections, $5 to $35. (Force pump included in plumbing contract.) Walks of brick, $0.70 per square yard; cement, $1.80 per square yard. Fences: tight-board, $0.25 per lineal foot; picket, $0.50 per lineal foot, painted three coats. Illuminating-gas pipe, $1.50 to $2 per connection. Plumbing--Cellar sink, plain iron set $10 Hot-water boiler and back " 25 Kitchen sink, city and hot and cold cistern water " 30 Force pump and tank " 50 Bath-tub, 14 oz. copper " 30 Wash-stand " 25 Water-closet "washout" " 40 Street-washer " 12 City service, $0.35 a foot, lineal, laid. Drain connection, $0.30 a foot, lineal, laid. [For other piping and connections add twenty per cent of above aggregate.] Natural-gas piping, without burners, $4 a fire. Gas fixtures, about $1.50 per burner. Mantels and grates, average cost, $40. Furnace, for all pipes and connections, nine registers, $240; add $16 for each additional second-story connection; $8 for first-story connection. Plate glass, $0.50 to $0.75 a square foot, according to size. Cathedral glass, plain, $0.30 a foot; leaded, from $1 upward. Electric work--door bells, each $6; kitchen bell, $6. CHAPTER XXXVI. VARYING BUILDING VALUES.--COST OF APPURTENANCES.--PRICES OF LABOR AND MATERIAL ON WHICH ESTIMATES ARE BASED. The cost of building varies in different sections. At the end of this chapter will be found a list of prices upon which the building estimates of this book are based. The plumbing schedule is formed so that one may see about what the different items of a completed plumbing outfit cost. Figuring sixty feet of service and seventy feet of drain, the plumbing outfit would cost, as indicated, $328. It has been furnished for less. The figures given in connection with plumbing work are not necessarily accurate. They are approximately so in detail. As no two plumbers or other mechanics will figure exactly the same on the same fixtures, or the same material and labor, it is not to be expected that an architect could form a thumb-rule schedule which would be satisfactory to plumbers and all others. In the class of work contemplated in this specification, the tendency of these figures is in the right direction. They are as nearly correct as general statements can be. It is known that a single bath-tub can be fitted up to cost more than the entire plumbing outfit here mentioned. It would afford no more conveniences to the occupant of the house, and would be no safer from a sanitary standpoint; and it probably would require more labor to care for than the one contemplated. The estimates are on the basis of a specification which would meet with the approval of the public sanitary inspectors in any of the large cities. Where there is a material reduction in the number of fixtures and connections from the list given, the percentage for other piping and connections will have to be increased. There are various ways of reducing the cost of the outfit. The best way is to have less of it; for instance, only city water may be used, or, possibly, only the cistern water. The completed plumbing outfit mentioned in schedule "B," with the exception of cistern-water connections, including hot and cold city water for sink, wash-stand, and bath-tub, has been put in, in plan No. 30, for $245. The natural-gas-piping figure, like the others, is liable to vary. Piping for five fires has been put in for $20, for $15, and for $30. The burners, the burner valves and mixers, usually cost from four to five dollars a fire. The gas-fixture schedule is priced by the burner, not by the connection. Each burner of each fixture is counted. Of course one may get a single fixture which will cost as much as the above rule would figure on a whole outfit, but that is unusual in moderate-cost houses. Some of the second-story brackets will cost from ninety cents to one dollar and a quarter apiece. This will increase the price of burner margin for the first floor, and allow more elaborate fixtures. The mantels are priced to include grate, hearth, facings, and everything that may go there, excepting fender and blower. One may get a mantel for $25 or $30, or he may use a grate setting without a mantel, or may go as far into the hundreds as his inclination and means will lead him. Very expensive mantels in moderate-cost houses are not in good taste. A $100 or $150 mantel in a room all of the other wood-work of which did not cost over half that sum, is in exceedingly bad form. The mantel appears like a monument; everything around it is insignificant. In buying mantels from stock in mantel stores, the cheaper ones are generally the best designed from an artistic standpoint. The furnace price is necessarily arbitrary. The owner of a house will be told that the price here given is too high and too low. A moderate-sized, two-story, eight-room house, which, counting the bath-room, would have nine connections, could be provided with a furnace of wrought-iron or steel, riveted joints, double galvanized-iron jacket, for $240. The same furnace brick-set will cost from fifteen to twenty dollars more. The owner of such a house can get a cheaper furnace, or he can get one which will be much more expensive. Oftentimes when an architect estimates the price of a furnace to the owner, the latter will respond with the statement that he has been offered a furnace complete for ninety dollars. Upon investigation it generally proves that the furnace is in some one's store ready for delivery; that it will cost extra to set it, and for all connections, fittings, registers, etc.; and that the furnace itself is of such a kind that ninety dollars is a high price for it. There is no doubt that the statement as to furnace prices will meet with general disapproval from manufacturers. Many will say that the prices given are ridiculously high, and others, ridiculously low. Other general statements as to heating apparatus may be found in a chapter given to that subject in that section of the book devoted to the Journey through the House. The estimates given on plate and cathedral glass are about as unsatisfactory as anything can be. They merely give the owner a general idea as to what to expect. Electric-work prices are approximately correct for localities where the facilities for doing this kind of work are at hand. Door and table bell outfits are now sold and arranged ready to be set up. The methods of their adjustment are so simple that any one who can read can put them in. The general statement may be made that these prices are approximately correct in all the larger markets; and that in cases where the building is far removed therefrom, there must necessarily be additions for travel of workmen, and other incidental expenses in the transportation of material and labor. The following is the list of prices of material and labor upon which the building estimates are based:-- Excavating, $0.25 a yard. Brick in the wall, $9 per M. Mason work, $5.50 a yard, laid up. Cement floors, $0.70 a square yard. Timber, joist, and scantling, less than eighteen feet long, $17 per M. No. 1 common boards, $18 per M. Select common pine flooring, count measure, $26 per M. Common flooring, count measure, $22.50 per M. First quality yellow pine flooring, face measure, $37.50 per M. Standard yellow pine flooring, face measure, $30 per M. No. 1 poplar flooring, face measure, $28.50 per M. No. 2 poplar flooring, face measure, $23.50 per M. No. 1 stock boards, $20 per M. No. 1 poplar siding or weather-boarding, $18 per M. No. 2, $16 per M. No. 1 pine siding, $22 per M. No. 2, $20 per M. Shingles, 16 inches clear butts, best, per M, $3.75. Shingles, 16 inches extra, 10 inches clear butts, $3.25. Pine lath, per M, $2.50. Poplar and pine finishing lumber, $3.75 to $6 per 100 feet. Oak or maple flooring, first class, $4 to $6 per 100 feet. Oak finishing lumber, $4 to $6 per 100 feet. Under certain conditions the above prices are subject to discounts. Plastering: three-coat work, plaster-of-Paris finish, $0.25 a yard; two-coat work, plaster-of-Paris finish, $0.20; gray floated sand finish, three cents extra on above prices. Painting, $0.06 per yard a coat. Labor: common labor, $0.15 an hour; bricklayers and masons, $0.35 to $0.45 an hour; carpenters, $0.20 to $0.30 an hour; tinners, $0.30 an hour; painters, $0.20 to $0.30 an hour; plumber and helper, $0.50 an hour. The above labor prices are those paid by the contractors. Rarely, however, are the maximum prices reached. There are few subjects on which ideas vary so greatly as values. This fact may be made apparent when we call to mind that bids on a house let for $3,000 frequently range $1,000 higher than this figure. BUSINESS POINTS IN BUILDING. CHAPTER XXXVII. LOW-COST HOUSES.--METHODS OF MAKING CONTRACTS.--ARCHITECTS' ESTIMATES.--BUILDING BY THE DAY.--THE SAFEST PLAN.--GUARDING AGAINST LIENS. A low-cost, well-built house is sought by all. The cost of a house is largely a question of business management,--one of knowledge. Before considering the details of contracting for the building of a house, there are a few general points which should be mentioned. First, it never pays to make a contract to have a house built for less than it is worth. In order to get a good house, it is necessary that there be a margin of profit for the builder. Second, a good house from a constructive standpoint can only be built by competent mechanics. One may contract for the building of a house for less than it is worth with parties who are incapable of doing first-class work, and require a bond to secure the faithful execution of the contract. A contract or a bond cannot make a man do good work if he does not know how to do it. It will not save anxiety or trouble. It may indemnify against actual damages, but never against trouble and vexation; nor can it compensate for poor work done in building a home. This matter is mentioned because it is the fault of a great many people, who are inexperienced in building, that they are disposed to have work done for less than it is worth. It does not pay. It may be remembered, however, that one builder may be able to build for less than another. One may have more energy, tact, or general ability than another. He may have better credit; may be a better buyer. The result is larger accomplishments. In speaking of low-cost houses or cheap buildings, it is not to be understood that they are cheap or low-cost in the sense of being common or frail. I mean first-class houses at a relatively low cost; low cost in a business sense, the best for the money. We often hear the statement made that one can tell nothing definite about the cost of a house until it is finished. One can come as near knowing what a house will cost, as he can to knowing what he wants before he begins. One can get prices on what he has in mind, if his ideas be expressed. He cannot get prices on the unknown. The expression of one's ideas of a house is through plans and specifications. The fact that architects' estimates are often too low is because the owner is not sufficiently informed in house-building to know what he wants until after the estimate is made. The owner usually expresses a price that he wishes to pay for his house before he expresses his idea. It may be well to illustrate this. One who wishes to build goes to an architect with some sketches or prints, which he has been collecting, lays them down and says,-- "We're thinking about building a house. We want something like this. Here are four rooms and a hall downstairs, and four rooms and a bath-room above. We want to build of wood, and wish to have the house warm and substantial. Can it be built for three thousand dollars? It's all we have to put in it." "Oh, yes," says the architect; and so it can. A good, comfortable, substantial house, from the plans indicated, can be built for three thousand dollars. The architect knows this, and says that the work can be done for that price. He is ordered to make the plans. In a day or two the owner comes into his office and says,-- "My wife and I were talking over the house last night, and concluded that we would like to have a bay window from the dining-room,--a place where we can sit in summer, and put flowers in the winter." "All right." "And she told me to ask where you were going to put a wash-stand downstairs. You know we will want some kind of a wash-room." "I hadn't thought anything about that," said the architect. "Nothing was said about it. I supposed that in a house of this size the bath-room was the only place where you would put a stationary wash-stand." "We have to have a place downstairs. We can't go upstairs every time we want to wash our hands." Another two or three days pass. The owner visits the architect again. It is the old story. He and his wife have been studying the house question in earnest. They are educating themselves in house-building. The more they think about it, the more they want, all of which is perfectly natural and right. It is in the natural order of things. It is the way the world moves. "We were talking about the house, and have about concluded that we will finish two front rooms upstairs in oak. What do you think it will cost?" "If you use oak for all the wood-work, it will cost between forty and fifty dollars." "That isn't much. We'll have it." And so the house grows as the owners grow, a little every day. The next day it is a little more plate glass at a cost of fifteen dollars. Again, it is bronze hardware at an extra cost of twenty dollars. Then it is bevelled-glass doors in the china-closet, plastering in the attic, a tile vestibule, a porch off from the dining-room, and so on. The three thousand dollars is exceeded, though probably by something less than the amount represented by the growth of the owner's ideas. The architect had made a certain allowance for this development, though it was not possible for him entirely to foresee it. Of those who build, the ones who take the greatest interest in the house, those who think the most about it, are usually the ones who exceed their original calculations by the largest amount. In building, it is important that the architect and the owner thoroughly understand each other before contracts with the builders are signed. The wants of the owner must be thoroughly understood, and carefully and accurately set forth. From the plans and specifications estimates for all parts of the work should be received, and the cost of everything known, before obligations are created. The process of making the plans and specifications, and taking the bids, is educational in its tendency. It brings to the owner's attention nearly everything that he may want. Frequently he will find that the first estimates which he gets are higher than the amount he cared to expend. This is on account of his growth. He can frequently reduce the cost without positive injury to the original scheme. We will consider how contracts are usually made. Sometimes it is by making plans and specifications for the entire house, and then asking for bids on the building as a whole. A general contractor makes his figures on the various parts of the work, then adds them together and makes a lump bid. If he is awarded the contract under such a system, he does part of the work himself and sublets the rest. Possibly he may be a carpenter; then he sublets the brick work, plastering, tinning, painting, etc., and, if possible, he makes a profit on all of these sub-contracts. It does not always happen that he makes figures on these various divisions of the contract himself when forming his original bid. He gets sub-bids from various mechanics and adds these to his own in making up a lump bid. It is known that there is a very wide range of difference between bids which come in this way. In a house to cost three thousand dollars the bids not infrequently vary twenty-five to thirty per cent. The highest bid may be over four thousand dollars. Another way of contracting is for the architect or owner, as the case may be, to take bids on the various details of excavating, stone work, brick work, carpenter work, painting, plastering, galvanized iron and tin, glass, plumbing, gas-fitting, etc.; in fact, to detail the work as much as possible and receive detailed bids. If the work costs too much, if the bids run too high, one can locate the excess. At times one can get a cheaper house by pursuing this plan. Another plan of building is by the day. Usually this means to employ carpenters and a foreman, take bids on the material that the carpenters use, and to sublet the mason work, excavating, painting, plastering, tin-work, plumbing, etc. Sometimes the mason-work is also done by the day. Each plan has its merits. The first mentioned, of letting most of the work in one contract, is the one in most general use. It is common practice in this connection to let excavating, mason work, carpenter work, plastering, tinning, painting, and hardware in one general contract; then the mantels, gas-fixtures, furnace, plumbing, electric work, and ornamental glass work are let in separate contracts. It is difficult for one to specify gas-fixtures, mantels, and similar fittings, excepting by price. There is no satisfaction in this, for the reason that the owner or his architect may be able to make quite as good or even a better bargain than the contractor. Then there is no opportunity for the builder to arrange for a relatively high price with those who furnish this class of goods. It is fair for the builder to assume that he is entitled to a certain percentage for selecting and negotiating for such articles. The owner may save this for himself by making his own purchases. Plumbing work is frequently separated from the general contract in order that the owner may exercise his discretion as to the workmen employed to do this important work. In such circumstances it is not altogether a matter of cost. It is of the utmost importance that the best of workmen be employed. The articles which cannot be directly specified should be secured outside the general contract. Altogether, the plan of letting most of the work in one contract, as outlined, is the best and safest for those to pursue who are not thoroughly familiar with building operations. The plan of subletting the separate contracts to the lowest bidders is not to be recommended to those without large experience. The difficulty in locating responsibility for delays is great. There is apt to be contention, annoyance, and sometimes loss, by this confusion. The plan of building by the day is more satisfactory for experienced builders than the one just mentioned, but it has the disadvantage of not fully representing to the owner before it is finished the cost of his structure. In nearly every city or town there are a number of good builders, not well supplied with means, who will take a contract for building a house, work on it themselves until it is finished, and then take another, never having more than one or two houses on hand. One can frequently get good work from such builders at a much less cost than from large contractors. The larger contractors employ a foreman at about the same price a day that the small contractors expect to get per day out of their entire contract. Then, in addition to that, they receive their profits of ten, fifteen, or other per cent for their time and attention. Any one building with the help of the smaller contractors must be very careful, or he will get into trouble on account of the small margin of profit. To recur to the method first mentioned. It is well that suggestions be made as to the course to be pursued in receiving bids on work, as classified in that suggestion. In the first place, there should be accurate plans and specifications made by an architect capable of doing that kind of work. Everything should be fully represented to the owner in both a positive and negative way; that is, not only as to what is to go into his house, but as to what is not to go into it. As soon as the architect or those in charge of the work begin to take bids, the owner should be provided with a complete copy of the plans and specifications, in order that he may be fully conversant with what is to be done. It was said that everything should be represented to the owner in both a positive and negative way. Not only should it be stated to him that the first floor of the house is to be plastered, but, if such is the case, that the cellar is not to be plastered. If the cellar floor is not to be cemented, it should be stated definitely to him in that way before beginning to take bids. If fly-screens are not included in the building contract, it should be so stated. Everything should be fully represented, and a record thereof placed before the owner, so that there can be not the slightest opportunity for misunderstanding or disagreement. Thus, if everything is presented to the owner, he will know what he is to have and what he is not to have, and his business will be done for him in a way satisfactory to all. When this is done, it is time to begin taking bids. In doing this there should be no favoritism. The builder should be allowed to take a copy of the plans and specifications with him to his office or place of business, and keep them a day or more, in order to take off his quantities and become thoroughly conversant with everything connected with them. Then he can return the plans, and, while others are doing the same thing, he can compile his figures. Generally it takes about a day for each contractor to get through with a set of plans; that is, if five bids are received, it generally takes five or six days, assuming that only one set of plans is in use. No one should be asked to figure on a building unless the owner is willing to award him the contract, providing his bid is the lowest. Anything else is unfair. When all the bids have been received in sealed envelopes, the architect and owner may open them. After selecting the lowest, they may add to that figure the cost of everything not included in that proposition,--the furnace, mantels, gas fixtures, ornamental glass, and anything else that has not been included in the bid. This may be readily done, if the architect provide a schedule, similar to schedule "B," of everything which may go into the house. In the matter of closing the contract, only general statements can be made. Where an architect is employed, he will give proper directions; but, as many houses are built without such assistance, it is proper to make general statements which will assist in this work. There are forms of building-contracts, or articles of agreement, which may be secured from various regular sources. It is proper to fix the time of the completion of the work, which will vary in different parts of the country according to general customs. A house to cost from fifteen hundred to four thousand dollars may be very easily finished, under favorable circumstances, in ninety to a hundred days. Such houses can be built in less time, but it is best to give the builder at least three months. He will do better work in that time than in less. For the higher figure named, or for those which approach it, it may be better to allow even a little more rather than less time. As a price for liquidated damages in event of delay in completion, the rental value of the property is the usual sum specified. There are various plans pursued in the matter of payments. Where there is an architect or superintendent, he usually issues orders on the owner for payment of material and labor furnished by a contractor less ten or fifteen per cent. Sometimes it is stated that two-fifths of the money will be paid when the building is enclosed and under roof; one-fifth additional when building is plastered, painted on exterior, all exterior appurtenances finished, the floors laid, and the house ready for other interior wood-work; and the remaining two-fifths when all work is finished. At times this apportionment is correct, and at other times not. However, it is a very good general rule. It is a good plan to add the ten per cent discount to it when possible. Sometimes an indemnifying bond is required of the contractor in order to secure the owner the proper execution of the contract. Otherwise the ten or fifteen per cent discount is relied upon to secure that end. The lien laws in the various States make it very important that the owner, or his agent in the matter of building, should be very careful to see that the contractor pays all his bills, or secures releases from those who have furnished material and labor on account of the building contract, before money is paid by owner. The law is different in various States, and renders the owner liable, under varying conditions, for material and labor furnished to contractor by others as employees or sub-contractor, even though payment has been made by owner to general contractor. Where a bond is not required, it is proper for the owner or his agent to exact releases in proper form from those who have furnished material and labor to contractor. The following form is in use by the writer:-- Work located The undersigned, in consideration of the personal credit extended by to , Contractor, hereby consent that may pay to said contractor any sum that may be now owing to, or may hereafter become due, said contractor, on account of contract for the construction of the above works, and we hereby waive all rights to Mechanics' Liens or other claims which we have, or may have, against said property, or owner, on account of labor or material furnished by us. INDIANAPOLIS, 1889. It is the custom to furnish the builder with a number of copies of the above release before it is time for him to secure an order on the owner for money. As the architect is in a position to know from whom material or labor is secured, it is possible for him to know if the list of releases is complete. If not complete, the party refusing to give a release is required to make statement as to the amount of the indebtedness for material and labor furnished on the contract. The general contractor is charged with the amount represented as being due until the matter is fully adjusted. As an additional safeguard, the contractor is at times required to fill out and make affidavit to the following:-- INDIANAPOLIS, ---- 1889. The undersigned, for the purpose of securing payment on account of contract with ----, for the construction of a ---- house, known as No. ---- on ---- Street, situated on Lot ----, Out-lot ----, ---- Division to City of Indianapolis, Marion County, State of Indiana, represents hereby that he has paid for all labor and material of every kind and nature had and procured therefor, excepting, however, that he is now owing the following sums to the respective parties hereinafter named for labor and materials for said building, and owes therefor no other amounts, to wit:-- In this connection it is not possible to consider all of the ramifications of the lien law. It is important to understand, however, that it is entirely possible for an owner to have to pay for part of or all of his house twice, if he is not careful in matters of this kind. HOW TO SECURE A HOME. CHAPTER XXXVIII. MONTHLY PAYMENTS.--CALCULATIONS ON A LONG-TIME PLAN.--PURCHASE ON A RENTAL BASIS.--HOW IT MAY BE WORKED OUT. It is a pleasant thought that every one can own a home of his own. With only a moderate salary, and little or nothing ahead, a thought of this kind may appear more pleasant than real. It may be affirmed, however, that, with few exceptions, any one who can pay rent may own his home. This will require certain sacrifices and at first great economy, but in the end the result justifies the means. There is no reason why any one should pay rent. Building associations are instrumental in securing more homes for people on a long-time plan than any other scheme. In the large towns, however, houses are sold on various kinds of instalment plans. By way of illustration, the writer calls to mind a five-room house, pleasantly situated, which was built about three years ago. This house is being paid for in instalments of $15 a month. An arrangement of this kind is good for all concerned. It is an easy way for one to get a home. It is a good use of money, from a business standpoint, for the one who has the money to invest. A little demonstration will make this plain. The lot on which the house was situated was valued at $400. The house, with walks, well, cistern, and outbuildings, cost $900. Here is a total investment of $1,300. The purchaser paid $300 in cash. There remained $1,000 unpaid. The interest on $1,000 for a year at six per cent is $60; but as the volume of interest is reduced as the payments are made, the actual interest for the full period averages about one-half of $60, or $30, per year. To make this point clear, I will state it in another way. The principal is being reduced as the monthly payments are made. As the payments advance, the amount of interest necessarily decreases, as there is not so much principal on which to pay interest. As a matter of fact, one pays six per cent interest on just one-half of $1,000 for the full period, or, what amounts to the same thing, the average interest on the full period is three per cent. Thus, one is paying an average interest of $30 per year; and, as he pays $15 a month, this would be $180 a year for principal and interest, $150 of which would apply to the principal. Thus it is that in six years and eight months the one paying $15 a month will own the house and lot. I know of other cases where less each month is paid and a longer time is taken. It would take $10.83[1] per month to pay for a house of this kind in ten years, with a cash payment of $300. It may be said that nobody but a philanthropist would sell property in this way. In the case of which I speak, the philanthropist is the manager of the property of a life-insurance company which owns quite a large amount of unimproved real estate in a Western city, and had a surplus capital on which it desired to realize. It is a good thing for the company. By this means it is enabled to dispose of its real estate, and to use its money profitably. This is not strictly architectural, but it may result in showing some one how to get a home, or others how to make use of idle capital in a safe and profitable way. It is better for one who has money to invest to sell houses in this way than it is to rent them. He gets profit on the sale, and interest on his money, which latter is all he expects under other circumstances, and disposes of the houses before they need repairs. This is the view which the capitalist takes of the situation. By looking into it a little further, he may see that he will not be troubled by insurance, a vacant house, or repairs. The cash payment is sufficient to protect the expense of foreclosing the mortgage and the rental of the house during the time of the redemption. In some instances the property is leased on the payment of a small cash bonus, with the stipulation that when one-third, one-fourth, or other agreed portion of selling price is paid in, that a deed will be given; further payment being secured by mortgage. Building associations are not common in all sections of the country. Those who are ambitious to build, and are not provided with facilities which a building association offers, may ask what to do. The answer is short: form an association. This can be done in a small community. Two hundred shares paid in, say, by fifty people, would represent a hundred dollars a week. Any one who wishes to do this can provide himself with text-books and other information on the subject, which are now published in different parts of the country. Any bookseller with a good catalogue can give the necessary information. It is sometimes assumed by those unfamiliar with building-association methods, that they only provide means for building small, low-cost houses. This is an error. It is not at all unusual that complete houses, costing from three to five thousand dollars, are built by men of large means, who secure their money from a building association. One has, say, forty or fifty thousand dollars profitably occupied in a regular business; he may not care to disturb this money except to buy a lot with which to establish a basis of credit with the building association. The price of the lot may vary from one-fourth to one-half the total investment. One wishes to borrow three thousand dollars from an association on the plan which is subsequently fully described. He would have to take out fifteen shares on a payment of fifty cents a share a week. This would represent seven dollars and a half weekly, or about thirty dollars a month. On the plan where the interest and premium are charged in addition to the regular weekly dues, a little over fifty dollars a month would be required to keep up the building-association charges. This would be less than house rent. These calculations are made assuming that the premium is not more than ten cents and the interest six per cent. CHAPTER XXXIX. BUILDING ASSOCIATIONS.--WHY DIVIDENDS ARE LARGE AND INTEREST LOW.--BUILDING ASSOCIATIONS AND SAVINGS BANKS.--ASSOCIATION SECURITIES.--BUILDING-ASSOCIATION METHODS.--DIFFERENT PLANS.--BORROWING FROM A BUILDING ASSOCIATION.--A BUILDING-ASSOCIATION REPORT. Building-association methods become more popular as they are better understood. Savings banks are unnecessary in communities where building associations are common. The savings bank will give place to the building association, for the reason that the latter affords greater security and more profit to the depositors at the same time that it affords greater conveniences to the borrowers. It is often asked by those not fully acquainted with building-association methods, "How is it that the association pays such large dividends, and the borrower such a small rate of interest? The profit is made by the loaning of money; and, consequently, the borrower must pay a high price for his money, or the association does not make large dividends." This appears to be a logical argument. However, it is not true that the borrower pays a high price for his money. The dividends declared are made from the borrowers, by the rapid compounding of interest and other sources of profit. Money paid in as interest is immediately re-invested as a loan, and thus pays interest the next week. The interest on this is at once put to use, and so on. It is compounded. The premium paid for money is another source of profit. This comes from the borrower, and represents a part of the cost of the money to him; but, unless the premium is excessive, the earnings on his stock counterbalance the amount paid as premium, so that in the end a borrower does not pay in excess of the regular rate for his money at the same time that the stockholder is more largely benefited. A building association has only a tithe of the expenses of a bank. The cost of doing business is very small. An association has a very great advantage over a bank in its earning capacity in that it does not have to carry a surplus. All of its money is invested at all times. Frequently it is receiving interest upon money that is not a part of its assets. This happens when an application for a loan has been accepted, a building is under way, and the money not all paid out. The percentage of loss in a building association is necessarily smaller than in the best-conducted bank. Its securities are all first mortgages on productive real estate, and loans are made to members only, and under the condition that the immediate repayment of the loan be commenced. The security begins to improve at once, by the repayment of a part of the principal each week. It is usual for each member of a family to become interested in the immediate repayment of a loan. The payment of building-association dues is constantly in mind; as they become due from week to week, they cannot be overlooked. The fact that the debt is growing less, and, as well, the incentive to avoid small fines in case of failure to make payment, contribute to the value of the security. A loan on an ordinary basis, secured from a savings bank, insurance or trust company for a long period, is not thought of in this way. The usual thought in such a case is to pay the debt in a large sum at a time in the future. The time of the repayment of an association loan is always present. The security afforded to building associations is much better than to savings banks and loan companies, even where the margin above the amount of loan is less because of this difference in plan of repayment. Again, the margin of security from the first is always sufficient to protect a mortgage and the payment of all foreclosure costs and charges. Furthermore, the rentals in case of foreclosure are, or should be, sufficient to pay all dues and other fixed charges. This will prevent loss, and in the end pay for the property. Another element of safety in building associations is the small risk of loss from the duplicity of the officers. This risk is unusually light, for the reason that in a well-managed building association there is little in sight to lose. The money is usually all invested. Any small amount in the hands of the officers is there for only a short time. There are demands in all well-managed building associations for all the money in hand. While this is true, it is always required that the officers who handle the association money give bond for a much larger sum than it is possible for them ever to have in charge. This makes the loss, if any, readily collectible. It may be well to illustrate building-association methods, and thus call attention intelligently to the points of superiority which one plan may have over another. The idea which first gave rise to associations is that of enabling persons belonging to a class whose earnings are small, to place themselves in a position where the process of gradual accumulation is, in a certain sense, compulsory. The method of operation is simple enough when it is understood. Say that a number of stockholders agree to form an association with a thousand shares, each share to represent $200. This would make a full capital stock of $200,000 when all paid in. The various individuals forming the association subscribe for as many shares as they feel competent to pay upon, it being agreed that for each share of stock subscribed, fifty cents per week shall be paid until the sum-total of the payments shall aggregate $200; at the end of which time a division shall be made according to the original subscription and subsequent payment. It is clear that if all are prompt in their payments, the treasury will be ready for distribution at the end of four hundred weeks. The period of four hundred weeks will, however, be shortened if all the money paid in is at once invested at interest upon safe securities, with the addition of interests compounded weekly, as is the case with these associations. For instance, it may appear that at the end of three hundred and twelve weeks, with a payment of fifty cents a week, and the accrued earnings that are credited to the shares, they are worth $200, the amount fixed for the value of the stock when it is paid up. At such a time the depositing members withdraw their funds, and those who are borrowers pay off their obligations to the association with stock, and the mortgages are released. Money in building associations is generally sold to the highest bidder; that is, those who want to borrow bid a premium for the money. For instance, a sale of money is advertised. Bids are then received on the money to be loaned, and it is given to the highest bidder after the security has been approved. Suppose one wishes to borrow a thousand dollars. If each paid-up share is to represent two hundred dollars, five shares must be taken out to represent the payment of principal on a thousand-dollar loan. It may appear that the premium bid was ten cents on each share. This means that the borrower must pay ten cents premium each week, on each share, during the course of the loan, or until the principal is paid out. Thus he would pay fifty cents a week as principal, and ten cents a week as premium, and the interest on two hundred dollars at six per cent, which would be twenty-four cents a week. Thus he would pay eighty-four cents a week on each share; or on five shares, four dollars and twenty cents a week. This would pay out in about five years, depending upon the average rate of premium, the cost of doing business, and other conditions which may be readily understood. When the principal paid in, together with the accrued earnings, represents two hundred dollars, the obligation to the building association is released. There are various plans of starting and arranging building and savings associations, which differ one from another only in matters of detail. The price of the share may be two, three, or four hundred dollars, or any other sum. The amounts paid in a week vary from ten cents to any larger sum. In the past, most associations have been started on the series plan, which is defined as follows by Henry S. Rosenthal of Cincinnati in his "Manual for Building Associations:"-- "In an association, organized on the terminating plan, all the stock is issued as of one date. A terminating association is organized on the presumption that all the stock will be subscribed for at the open meetings. This, however, is seldom done. The consequence is, that shares sold after the first meetings must be sold at such prices as to make them equal in value to those already issued. To do this a sum must be charged equal to the amount already paid in in instalments by the subscribers to the original shares. If the regular dues on shares should be one dollar per week, a person subscribing for a share after the association has been running ten weeks must pay ten dollars for the share. In like manner, if the association has been running for a longer period, he must pay an additional dollar for each additional week. Moreover, if he does not subscribe until after the profits have been declared, he must pay such an additional amount on his share as will correspond to the earnings of the original shares up to that time. The same rule holds through the entire existence of the association, each year making it more difficult to enter. After an association, organized on this plan, has run for a time, it is impossible for many persons, who would gladly become members, to raise a sufficient sum of money to pay up the back instalments, the initiation fees, the accrued profits, and other incidental expenses. In its practical workings, therefore, an association organized on this plan is not well adapted to meet the conditions of that particular class of persons who most need such an organization, and are most likely to be benefited by it. "In a terminating association all the shares are, of course, at all times of equal value. Whenever the total amounts of the dues paid in and of accumulated profits equal the par value of all the shares, the association terminates and its affairs must be wound up. Each stockholder who has not borrowed his money in advance receives the full value of his shares. To those who have secured their money in advance, their mortgages, cancelled and receipted in full, are returned. "PERMANENT ASSOCIATION. "Building associations were established originally on the terminating plan. It is obvious that working on this plan they cannot, in some respects, reach their greatest degree of popularity and usefulness. On this account there has been a gradual departure from this plan. The first departure from the terminating plan consisted in an arrangement for issuing the stock in series instead of all from the same date. Associations were chartered for a certain number of years, as before, and with a specified amount of capital stock. But instead of selling all the stock as of the same date, it was divided into series; one series being sold as of the date of the beginning of the first year, the second series as of the date of the beginning of the second year, and so on until all the shares were sold. The issuing of a new series does not necessarily occur annually, but at such periods as are made necessary or desirable by the business of the association. The serial issue may be monthly, quarterly, semi-annually, or otherwise, as the directors may determine. By the time the last series is issued and the stock is exhausted, the first one or two or more series of shares, if the business of the association has been prosperous, have usually reached their full value, and are paid back and cancelled. Associations conducted on this plan usually have the right to issue new stock to take the place of that which is cancelled from time to time, and thus their perpetuity is insured. A successful association working on this plan can usually secure the issue of a new charter, and can thus continue its existence. But there are manifest disadvantages and risks under which an association operating on this plan must labor. "Another plan of operation has been inaugurated which has proved very popular, and which is being generally adopted by the associations in the different States. Associations are granted perpetual charters, the amount of the capital stock being fixed at a certain sum. They are allowed to begin operations as soon as a certain amount of stock is subscribed. After the association is in operation, new subscribers are allowed to enter at any time on an equality with the original subscribers, the stock of each member dating from the time of his entry. Thus the business of the association runs along from year to year, until finally all of the stock is subscribed. After a time the shares first issued begin to reach their full value. As they thus mature, the owners draw out their money,--if they have not borrowed it in advance,--and their shares are cancelled, and their membership ceases. If they have borrowed their money in advance, their bonds and mortgages are returned to them receipted in full. If a member, whose stock has thus matured, has not borrowed his money in advance, and does not wish to draw it out, a certificate of paid-up stock is issued to him, and he leaves his money in the association as a matter of investment. An association operating on this plan may, after a time, when its original stock has all been subscribed through application to the incorporating authorities, secure the right to increase its stock. If, in the course of time, this increased stock becomes exhausted, another increase may be secured in a like manner, and so on indefinitely." Herewith is given an extract from the yearly report of a successful savings and loan association on the perpetual plan. It will illustrate more fully the method and results of this method than could a less formal description. It may be explained in this connection that in this society the payments are uniform for depositing and borrowing members; that is, instead of having the premium and interest added to the weekly dues, the amount of premium and interest is charged against the weekly payment of fifty cents. Ten cents is the limit of premium, the officers and stockholders believing that to be as much as any one should pay. OBJECT. THE PLYMOUTH SAVINGS AND LOAN ASSOCIATION, NO. 2, is organized with two main objects in view:-- FIRST.--To furnish a convenient, safe, and profitable method of investing the savings of working people. Members can come in and go out at will. Subscriptions can commence at any time without having to pay back dues or wait for new series. Withdrawing members obtain their money without loss (fines excepted), and are paid as promptly as the finances of the Association will admit, without having to wait ninety days. In the history of the Association there have been no delays. SECOND.--To furnish persons who wish to borrow for any purpose the means for doing so at a reasonable rate of interest. In other words, it is an association composed of borrowers and lenders, and established for their mutual convenience. It gathers together the savings of the people, which, scattered and in small sums, could not be invested to advantage, and loans the money thus obtained on first mortgage security, and in sums to suit, to those who wish to build, to pay off mortgages, or for other purposes. All members of the Association are, therefore, divided into two classes:-- _First._--Those who desire to use the society as a means of saving or investing money. These are called _depositing members_. _Second._--Those who wish to make use of the organization as a means of borrowing money. These are called _borrowing members_. MANAGEMENT. THE PLYMOUTH SAVINGS AND LOAN ASSOCIATION is a strictly co-operative or mutual organization. All the shareholders are _pro rata_ owners of all the assets of the society. Every member is a partner in the enterprise in proportion to the amount paid in by him. He is entitled to his share of all the earnings of the Association, and he must also stand his share of the losses, if there be any. The By-laws contain the rules and regulations under which money is received and loaned, or otherwise disposed of, and the business of the society is carried on by a Board of Directors, elected annually by the members. SHARES AND SHAREHOLDERS. The amount of interest which each member has in the Association is indicated by the number of his shares. Shares are $200 each, and no member can hold more than twenty-five shares. The weekly payment required is fifty cents on each share of stock. When a member joins the Association he indicates the amount of weekly payment he desires to make by the number of shares for which he subscribes. He may, however, if he wishes, pay more than his shares call for, and such over-payments will receive dividends the same as the regular weekly instalments. Each member is supposed to keep up his payments until what he has paid in, together with the dividends declared thereon, shall amount to the face value of his shares, at which time he must cease payments, and either take his money out, or, if the society be willing, allow it to remain and draw dividends. DIVIDENDS. On the 1st of January and July of each year the net earnings of the Association are divided _pro rata_ among all the members, and the amount due each member is credited on his pass-book. Persons joining the association between January and July must continue payments until the following January before the dividend will be credited, and those joining between July and January must likewise pay until the following July; and if the money be withdrawn before that time, the dividend will be forfeited. The right to dividend also ceases from the date of the notice to withdraw the stock. When dividends are credited on the pass-books they are just like money paid, and are themselves entitled to draw dividends the same as cash payments. Thus it will be seen that all dividends compound semi-annually. The following table will show how long it takes to pay up a share to face value by paying the regular dues only, supposing the society to earn six per cent dividends per annum.[1] It also shows the value of each share at the close of each year:-- First year Dues $26 00 " Dividends 78 $26 78 ------ ------ Value at close of first year $26 78 Second year Dues $26 00 " Dividends 2 41 28 41 ------ ------ Value at close of second year $55 19 Third year Dues $26 00 " Dividends 4 53 30 53 ------ ------ Value at close of third year $85 72 Fourth year Dues $26 00 " Dividends 6 10 32 10 ------ ------- Value at close of fourth year $117 82 Fifth year Dues $26 00 " Dividends 8 34 34 34 ------ ------- Value at close of fifth year $152 16 Sixth year Dues $26 00 " Dividends 10 41 36 41 ------ ------- Value at close of sixth year $188 60 Seventh year (16 weeks) Dues $8 00 " Dividends 3 40 11 40 ----- ------- $200 00 Time, 6 years and 16 weeks. Total dues paid $164 00 Total dividends 36 00 ------- $200 00 [Footnote 1: The present rate of dividend is nine per cent, with an added surplus.] METHOD OF LOANING MONEY. The society loans money only to members. For each $200 share held by a member he may borrow $200, secured by first mortgage on real estate, interest on which is twenty-four cents per week. The right to precedence in borrowing is sold at auction at stated times at the office of the Association (notice of which is given beforehand) to the member who bids or agrees to pay the highest weekly premium in addition to the twenty-four cents per week interest. Ten cents per week is the average rate at which money was sold during the year 1887, and is now selling. Members not desiring or not able to attend the sale of money in person may have some one else bid for them, or they may leave a written bid with the Secretary, on blanks prepared for that purpose, who will make it for them at the sale. The society also loans to depositing members in sums equal to ninety per cent of the dues paid in. Security is had by the member pledging his stock for the payment of the loan and interest due (if any) on notes prepared for that purpose. Interest on such loans has for the present been placed at the rate of eight per cent per annum. PAYMENTS. The depositing and borrowing members alike pay fifty cents per week per share. There are no additions for expenses, interest, premiums, or fines. These are charged up at the close of each dividend period, or at the closing up of an account. Each borrower is required to pay at least fifty cents per week on each $200 of loan made to him, which is credited as follows:-- First the premium and interest are taken out, the interest being twenty-four cents. When the premium bid is ten cents, both together would amount to thirty-four cents. Then the balance, which in this case would be sixteen cents, is credited as a payment on the share on which the loan is taken. These payments are continued until the amount credited on the shares, together with the dividends thereon, will equal the amount loaned. For instance, suppose the loan to be $200, and the premium bid to be ten cents per week,-- The payment each week would be 50 cents The premium each week would be 10 cents The interest each week would be 24 cents --------- 34 cents -------- The credit on the share each week would be 16 cents These credits of sixteen cents per week begin to draw dividends on the succeeding dividend period, which are compounded semi-annually, and the weekly payments must be continued until the weekly credits of sixteen cents and the dividends thereon amount to $200. Members are at liberty to pay every two weeks or monthly, and as much beyond the required weekly payment as they may desire to. The overpayments are credited like any regular payment and share in the dividends. This enables borrowers to pay their loans off as fast as their circumstances will admit. This method is very helpful, as the interest and premium will be stopped on as many full shares as are paid off, and the cost of a loan is materially reduced thereby. The minimum payment only is fixed. The borrower may at any time pay the whole balance due on the loan and have it cancelled at once. It is always good policy for a borrower to pay more than the weekly dues if he can, in order that in case of sickness, loss of work, or other unforeseen hindrance, he may be paid ahead, and hence suspend payment for a time without being fined or in danger of losing his property. By the following table it is shown that with the premium at twenty-four cents on each $200, and that the society is able to earn six per cent per annum dividends (both of which are being done now[2]), and the required weekly dues only being paid, a loan will be paid up in fifteen years and six months. This time, as already mentioned, can be shortened at the will and ability of the borrower, and may be paid off at any time without any penalty whatever. This is a great advantage, and the society can do this only because of the great demand for loans, and the money does not have to lie idle if a loan is paid off, but is immediately loaned again. Here is a loan which you may take fifteen years to pay if you wish, or you may pay it off at any time. TABLE. SHOWING COURSE OF LOAN OF $1,000. Premium 50 cents per week. Interest $1.20 per week. Six per cent dividends compounded semi-annually. FIRST YEAR: Loan $1,000 00 Payments for year $130 00 Interest and premium $88 40 Less dividends 62 ------ Net cost of loan 87 78 ------ Principal reduced 42 22 [Footnote 2: Since this report was made the earnings have been nine per cent, with an added surplus.] SECOND YEAR: Balance due at end of first year $957 78 Payments for year 130 00 Premium and interest 88 40 Less dividends 3 18 ------ Net cost of loan 85 22 ------ Principal reduced 44 78 THIRD YEAR: ------- Balance due at end of second year $913 00 Payments for year 130 00 Interest and premium 88 40 Less dividends 5 91 ------ Net cost of loan 82 49 ------ Principal reduced 47 51 FOURTH YEAR: ------- Balance due at end of third year $865 49 Payments for year 130 00 Interest and premium 88 40 Less dividends 8 79 ------ Net cost of loan 79 61 ------ Principal reduced 50 39 FIFTH YEAR: ------- Balance due at end of fourth year $815 10 Payments for year 130 00 Interest and premium 88 40 Less dividends 11 88 ------ Net cost of loan 76 52 ------ Principal reduced 53 48 SIXTH YEAR: ------- Balance due at end of fifth year $761 62 Payments for year 130 00 Interest and premium 88 40 Less dividends 15 12 ------ Net cost of loan 73 28 ------ Principal reduced 56 72 SEVENTH YEAR: Balance due at end of sixth year $704 90 Payments for year 130 00 Interest and premium 88 40 Less dividends 18 60 ------ Net cost of loan 69 80 ----- Principal reduced 60 20 EIGHTH YEAR: ------- Balance due at end of seventh year $644 70 Payments for year 130 00 Interest and premium 88 40 Less dividends 22 26 ------ Net cost of loan 66 14 ------ Principal reduced 63 86 NINTH YEAR: ------ Balance due at end of eighth year $580 84 Payments for year 130 00 Interest and premium 88 40 Less dividends 26 13 ------ Net cost of loan 62 27 ------ Principal reduced 67 73 TENTH YEAR: ------ Balance due at end of ninth year $513 11 Payments for year 130 00 Interest and premium 88 40 Less dividends 30 27 ------ Net cost of loan 58 13 ------ Principal reduced 71 87 ELEVENTH YEAR: ------- Balance due at end of tenth year $441 24 Payments for year 130 00 Interest and premium 88 40 Less dividends 34 65 ------ Net cost of loan 53 75 ------ Principal reduced 76 25 TWELFTH YEAR: ------ Balance due at end of eleventh year $364 99 Payments for year 130 00 Interest and premium 88 40 Less dividends 39 30 ------ Net cost of loan 49 10 ------ Principal reduced 80 90 THIRTEENTH YEAR: Balance due at end of twelfth year $284 09 Payments for year 130 00 Interest and premium 88 40 Less dividends 44 22 ------ Net cost of loan 44 18 ------ Principal reduced 85 82 FOURTEENTH YEAR: ------ Balance due at end of thirteenth year $198 27 Payments for year 130 00 Interest and premium 88 40 Less dividends 49 41 ------ Net cost of loan 38 99 ------ Principal reduced 91 01 FIFTEENTH YEAR: ------ Balance due at end of fourteenth year $107 26 Payments for year 130 00 Interest and premium 88 40 Less dividends 54 99 ------ Net cost of loan 33 41 ------ Principal reduced 96 59 SIX WEEKS: ------- Balance due at end of fifteenth year $10 67 Payments for six weeks 15 00 Interest and premium 10 20 Less dividends 5 87 ------ Net cost of loan 4 33 ------ Principal reduced 10 67 ------ Time, fifteen years and six weeks. Total amount of payments $1,965 00 Total interest and premium 1,336 20 Total dividends 371 20 Net cost of loan 965 00 With the reasonable prospect in view that the Association will be able to pay larger dividends at some future time, it will be easy to understand that the cost and the time of payment of a loan will thereby be correspondingly reduced. MORTGAGES. All loans must be secured by first mortgage on real estate in Marion County, Ind. An appraising committee, consisting of three members of the Association, appraise the value of all real estate offered as security for loans and report to the board. No loan can be made until the security has been approved by the Board of Directors. This Association is now paying four per cent semi-annual dividends, and adding largely to its surplus. A new feature in building-association work has recently been put into practice. The association will buy for cash a house and lot, or buy a lot and build a house thereon, and sell at a fair price to the member whose application is accepted. Where the house and lot are bought at a cash price, it is usual to charge a ten per cent bonus when selling it on time to a member. The purchaser then completes the transaction by securing the purchase money to the association, the same as in case of a loan on any other property, except that instead of a deed from the association he will receive a lease, with an agreement to sell and convey to him the premises as soon as one-third of the purchase money shall have been paid in regular dues on his stock. His stock will be assigned as collateral security, and the payments will be credited as rent until the deed is made. Then the purchaser will execute his mortgage for the unpaid balance due on the property on the terms of his original bid for the money. It is usual to require a cash payment equal to the amount of the bonus; that is, ten per cent of the purchase price. This is a valuable feature in building-association methods. It adds to the profits of the association. This plan is adaptable to private enterprise, and is liberal in its terms to the purchaser. In most associations organized on the perpetual plan, as previously described, the demand for funds is greater than can be supplied from depositing members. This has given rise to the "paid-up stock" feature of building associations. Under this plan one may invest money in any sum according to the terms of the charter and secure from the association a certificate of paid-up stock which participates in the regular dividends of the company. In this way, funds in larger amounts may be secured than come from the ordinary payments by regular weekly dues. It is not unusual for individuals to purchase paid-up stock to the amount of several thousand dollars. This is a great help to an association which is short of funds, as it serves to increase its membership by addition of borrowers. There is no better place to invest trust funds than in the paid-up stock of well-managed building associations. Primarily, for the reason that each stockholder is pledged in the amount of his stock to pay principal and six per cent interest on all withdrawals; hence, the funds may be withdrawn at any time, and six per cent interest thereon demanded. Furthermore, building-association stock is not taxable in most States. Individual and moneyed corporations are coming to consider the matter of loans, and means leading to their repayment, on the building-association plan. This will be brought about largely by the low price of money throughout the country at this time. Savings banks, mortgage companies, and life-insurance organizations are finding it difficult to loan their funds at a price that will pay their fixed obligations; hence, they are seeking means which will lead to a more profitable investment of their funds. The building-association plan of loaning money is one solution of the problem. The low price of money is one of the elements which within the next few years will enable nearly every one who so desires to secure a home through the building association, or some plan which has its outgrowth therefrom. CHAPTER XL. PURCHASE OF A LOT.--THE BEST THE CHEAPEST.--A GOOD LOT AS A BASIS OF SECURITY.--THE BASIS OF VALUE IS THE RENTAL. There are many things to consider in connection with the building of a house other than those which are constructive. One may lay aside that which has to do with appearances, convenience, stability, and all that is architectural, and yet have food for thought in connection with the making of a home. For instance, the lot. No one can afford to build on one that is absolutely cheap, or one that is cheap because it is not well located or favorably thought of by the large number of people. A lot that is absolutely cheap is not often worth even what is paid for it. One of small means can least of all afford to put his money in a questionable piece of property. A lot may be relatively cheap, and be a good investment. For instance, there is a street lined with comfortable houses. On this street live people of more or less wealth and unquestioned ambition. Three or four squares beyond the last house of this street the lots may be relatively cheap. The sum asked for them is not great, for the reason that few care to go out so far. Still, by adopting a little of the pioneer spirit, one can make a purchase of these lots and be reasonably certain of being rewarded for his foresight. It is much better to buy such a lot, and live for a year or two without immediate neighbors, than to buy one which is absolutely cheap because the surroundings are positively unfavorable. A man of small means least of all can afford to buy a lot that cannot readily be sold for all it cost. We often hear people say, in regard to lots that are surrounded unfavorably, "What is the difference? It suits us; we can be as happy and comfortable there as any place. If we like it, why should any one else complain?" No one else will complain. It may occur that the owner of this absolutely cheap property may wish to sell. He may become embarrassed in his business, or one of many things may happen to cripple him financially. If he can sell at all, it is at a sacrifice. If a mortgage is foreclosed, there is no reasonable chance of redemption. If the lot is well located, and he becomes financially embarrassed, he can sell for full value and thus relieve himself. If there is danger of foreclosure, a sale can be readily effected, and thus all danger of loss be averted. The idea in buying a lot is to get one which can be readily sold. This is an important matter. In carrying out this principle, one of moderate means will often buy a lot of higher cost than is apparently justifiable. However, this may be the best thing for him to do. It may be good business. If he wishes to borrow money with which to build, he has a better basis for credit. If he puts his house on a good lot, there is opportunity of selling it because of its favorable location, and thus the danger of embarrassment is averted. One can afford to borrow money to build on a good lot, for the reason that there is little danger of losing either the lot or the money. The house and the lot, if it rates well in the public mind, can be easily sold. The lot should not be selected or the house built, if its sale is not entirely possible. There are towns as well as localities in which no one of moderate means can afford to buy or build. Yet such locations are often selected because they are cheap, and living is cheap. The fact of this cheapness is against it. The property is cheap because it is worth little or nothing. It is cheap because no one can get out what he puts into it. This may apply to a lot in a particular town, a particular part of a town, or to property in general in a county or a State. Thus it is that no one of moderate means can afford to buy absolutely cheap property. A young man once went to an architect to advise with him in regard to the selection of a lot. He said,-- "There are two lots on a certain street that I can get for $1,200 each. That is a little more than I want to pay, as even then I would have to borrow more money than I wish in order to build my house. One of the best lots I know anything about is on another street, but I can hardly think of that, for they ask $1,500 for it." "I know the lot," said the architect, "and the $1,500 lot is the one to buy. The $1,200 lots are of questionable value. The surrounding conditions are such that their value is not liable to increase. The $1,500 lot is in the swim; two squares below, lots cannot be bought for $2,400; in fact, they are not in the market. They are owned by people who desire to hold them. In two years you will be reasonably certain to realize at least twice the difference between the values of the $1,500 and the $1,200 lots. In one case, the value of the lot is not liable to increase; it may decrease. In the other instance, there is reasonable certainty of a large increase within a short time. It is on the edge of high values." "But I shall have to borrow so much money with which to build, if I take the high-priced lot." "What of it? Say your house is going to cost you $3,000. You say you have $2,800 in cash. In one instance you would have to borrow $1,400, and in the other $1,700. You are running much less risk in borrowing $1,700 than you are in borrowing $1,400. If you had to sell, there is a reasonable certainty that you could always make a profit on your $4,500 investment, and a very questionable probability as to the $4,200 investment." There are those who do some very remarkable things for the sake of keeping out of debt, which, in the end, develops into more loss than would be possible in the case of debt. For instance, one will buy a lot for $1,500, and put a $1,500 house on it. In time the value of the lot increases; at the same time the value of the house decreases. The lot in itself would be worth more if the house were off it. It is a cheap house on a good lot. Thus it is that such property is often sold and the improvements counted as nothing. Again, exactly the other thing may happen. An expensive house may be built on a cheap lot. When finished the house is worth much less than it cost because it is not well located. One cannot expect to get full value for the lot without moving the house, and altogether the situation is disagreeable. How much better it would be, from a business standpoint, not to build at all, use the money some other way, or borrow enough money to have the house and lot properly located. In one case there is positive loss; in the other, a reasonable certainty of profit. Another thing for a man of moderate means to bear in mind in building a house is, that the investments as to the house and lot should be such that in case of rental the return derived would pay a fair interest on the investment, and leave a sufficient margin for taxes and repairs. As long as this condition exists, there need be no fear of loss through foreclosure. The sale of the property may become necessary through embarrassment in business, loss of situation, or illness; but in such a case the property can either be sold without loss, or it can be rented at a figure that will pay all fixed charges, which fact in itself establishes a value above its cost price. If these principles are all carried out, there is little chance of loss. INDEX. "A" door, 226. Air supply to heating apparatus, 75-79. American architecture, 26-28. American architectural development, 104-105. Architects' estimates, 278-281. Architect, the, and the housewife, 9-27. Architectural design, 101-105. Areas, 206. Ash-pits, 206. Attic, 62. Attic bedrooms, 63, 138. Automatic heat regulators, 81. Back plastering, 237. Base, 228, 229. Basement, 56. Bath-tub, 73, 74, 230, 255-258. Bath-tub wood-work, 230, 231. Bedrooms, 60-63. Bedrooms in attic, 63. Bedroom closets, 61. Bedroom, first floor, 164. Bedrooms, grates in, 62. Bedroom for servants, 62. Bond in brick-work, 201, 202. Brick, hollow walls of, 203. Brick of wood, 204. Brick joints, 199. Brick pavement, 212. Brick piers, 200. Brick, selection of color, 202. Brick veneer, 203. Brick-wall foundations, 200-204. Brick-work, 199-206, 209-212. Brick-work bond, 201, 202. Broom closets, 61. Broom-rack, 232. "B" schedule, 268. Building associations and savings banks, 296, 297. Building association, a new feature in, 310. Building association, object, 302. Building associations, permanent plan, 300, 301. Building-association profits, 295. Building-association report, 302-310. Building associations, safety of, 296, 297. Building association, terminating plan, 299, 300. Building-association methods, 293-311. Building by the day, 281. Building contract, 284-287. Building material, cost of, 273. Business points in building, 275-287. Capacity of cistern, 210. Carpenter work, 213-235. Casings outside, 218. Cathedral glass, 245. Cedar closet, 232. Cellar, 51-53, 133. Cellar brick-work, 203, 204. Cellar closet, 52, 53. Cellar doors, 226, 227. Cellar laundry, 54-58. Cellar plan, 142. Cellar sink, 254. Cellar-sink wood-work, 230. Cellar-way, outside, 206. Cement pavement, 212. Chamber decoration, 99. Chimneys, 204-206. Chimney-breasts, 205, 206. Chimney tops, 204. China-closet fittings, 46. China-room, 44-46, 232. Cistern, 210, 211. Cistern filter, 211. Cistern-water supply, 71. Clock shelf, 232. Closets, bedroom, 61, 138. Closets, broom, 61. Closet fittings, 231, 232. Closet of cedar, 232. Coal-bins in cellar, 51, 52. Colored bricks, 202, 203. Colored plastering, 237. Color of mortar, 202. Combination stairs, 59, 60, 137-141. Combination pantry, 45, 132. Competition in building, 281-283. Conservatory, 99. Contracting methods, 277-287. Copper, 240, 241. Cost of appurtenances, 271, 272. Cost of building material, 273, 274. Cost of one-story houses, 163. Cost schedules, 264, 267-269. Cost of a house, 264-274. Cut stone work, 208, 209. Damp course, 200. "D" door, 227. Deck roof, 216. Depth of foundation, 200. Dining-room, 37, 38, 96-99. Dish-warming, arrangement for, 84. Dish-washing, 11, 42. Doors and frames, 225-227. Dough-board, 46, 47. Double joists, 215. Down spouts, 240. Draining, 198, 199. Drain board, 43, 230. Drain connections, 261. Drain from refrigerator, 241. Drain outside, 71. Drain ventilation, 71. Dressed shingles, 218. Drop siding, 217. Dry-box, 48, 232. "E" door, 227. Eastlake, Charles, 104. Estimates of architects, 278-281. Evaporation in traps, 67-68. Evolution of a house-plan, 109-117. Excavating, 198. Excavating for plumber, 247, 248. Fifty convenient houses, plans of, 107. Fig. "A," frontispiece. Fig. "B," 106. Fig. 2, 41. Fig. 3, 43. Fig. 4, 45. Fig. 5, 46. Fig. 6, 67. Fig. 7, 68. Fig. 8, 116. Fig. 9, 116. Fig. 10, photographic view (page 116). Fig. 11, 117. Fig. 12, 124. Fig. 13, 133. Fig. 14, 147. Fig, 15, 149. Fig. 16, 151. Fig. 17, photographic view (page 152). Fig. 18, 154. Fig. 19, 154. Fig. 20, 160. Fig. 21, 168. Fig. 22, 169. Fig. 23, 181. Fig. 24, photographic view (page 182). Fig. 25, 186. Fig. 26, photographic view (page 190). Fig. 27, 191. Fig. 28, 191. Fig. 29, 193. Fig. 30, 199. Fig. 31, 205. Fig. 32, 206. Fig. 33, 215. Fig. 34, 217. Fig. 35, 226. Fig. 36, 227. Fig. 37, 227. Fig. 38, 262. Filters for cisterns, 211. Finish of floor, 244. Finishing in oil, 243, 244. Fireplaces in bedrooms, 62. Fixtures in plumbing enumerated, 66. Flashings, 239. Flat roofs, 240. Floors, 222, 223. Floor of kitchen, 49. Floor finish, 244. Flour-bin, 47, 233, 234. Flues, 203. Fly screens, 228. Foundation depth, 200. Foundations, stone, 207, 208. Force-pump, 249. Framing, 213-219. Framing lumber, sizes of, 213, 214. Fresco tinting, 92. Freezing of plumbing, 70, 71. Fuel in cellar, 51, 52. Furnace, defined, 76. Furnace and hot-water combination, 83, 84. Furnace-room in cellar, 52. Galvanized iron, 241. Gas-piping, 237, 238. German siding, 217. Glazing, 244, 245. Grates in bedrooms, 62. Grease sink, 72, 73, 263. Gutters, 239. Hall, 33-35. Hall, reception, 35, 36. Hardware, 245, 246. Hard-wood floors, 223. Heating apparatus, how to get a good, 83, 85. Heating and ventilation, 75-85. Heating by hot water, 80, 83. Heating by steam, 80. Heating by stoves, 80. Heating, ideal conditions, 76. Heating plants, cost of, 81, 82, 83. Heat regulators, automatic, 81. Height of stories, 214. Hip coping, 240. Hip finish, 217. Hollow walls of brick, 203. Hot-air flues in brick walls, 203. Hot-air pipes of tin, 241. Hot-water boiler, 71. Hot water and furnace combination, 83, 84. Hot-water heating, 80. Hot-water plumbing, 70. Hot-water system, 252. House decoration, 86-100. House drain, 71. House ventilation, 75, 79. Housekeeper, the, and the architect, 11-15, 26-28. Housekeeping operations, 16-20. How to secure a home, 289-316. Humidity of air, 77, 81. Hydrant, 249. Inside casings, 228. Inside shutters, 229, 230. Inside finish, table of, 224. Inside wood-work, 222-235. Joints, rodded, 199. Joists, 214, 215. Journey, a, through the house, 29-105. Kitchens, 39-50. Kitchen fittings, 42, 43. Kitchen floor, 49. Kitchen plans, 41, 45. Kitchen pantry, 45-48. Kitchen plastering, 50. Kitchen safe, 48. Kitchen sink, 43, 253, 254. Kitchen tables, 43, 230. Kitchen utensils, 48. Kitchen ventilation, 49. Kitchen wainscoting, 49. Landings for stairs, 60. Lattice porch, 220. Laundry, 54-58. Laundry fittings, 260, 261. Laundry, low-cost, 55-58. Laundry stove, 56. Laundry tubs, 57. Library, 95, 96. Lien laws, 285, 286. Lighting bedrooms, 61, 62. Lintels in brick-work, 204. Locating the house, 197. Lot, purchase of, 312, 316. Low-cost laundry, 55-58. Lumber for framing, 213. Mantel costs, 271. Mason work, 199-209. Medicine-chest, 232. Modern architects and the housekeeper, 26-28. Modern conveniences, 21-25. Moisture in heated air, 77-81. Monthly payments, 291-293. Mortar, color of, 202. Mortgages, 310, 311. Motor, 251. Natural-gas piping, 238. Nickel fittings, 263. Oil finish, 243, 244. Old colonial houses, 26, 27. One-story houses, 157-163. Ornamental brick, 203. Outside cellar-way, 206. Outside finish, 217-221. Outside shutters, 219, 220. Outside steps, 220, 221. Painting, 242, 243. Paint, ready mixed, 242. Painting of shingles, 216. Pantry boxes, 234. Pantry, combination, 45, 132. Pantry fittings, 46. Pantry shelves, 47. Pantry specification, 233. Pantry utensils, 48. Parlor, 35-37, 93-95. Pavement of brick, 212. Pavement of cement, 212. Permanent plan, building associations, 300, 301. Picture mouldings, 231. Piers of brick, 200. Pipe boards, 230. Pipe duct, 70, 230. Plastering, 236. Plastering, back, 237. Plastering, gray, 236. Plastering in kitchen, 50. Plate-glass, 245. Plans of fifty convenient houses, 107. Plan No. 1, cost $1,700, 110. Plan No. 2, cost $1,550, 111. Plan No. 3, cost $1,550, 112. Plan No. 4, cost $1,800, 113. Plan No. 5, cost $1,900, 114. Plan No. 6, cost $2,600, 115. Plan No. 7, cost $2,900, 121. Plan No. 8, cost $2,200, 129. Plan No. 9, cost $2,500, 132. Plan No. 10, cost $2,600, 136. Plan No. 11, cost $2,000, 141, 142. Plan No. 12, cost $2,600, 144. Plan No. 13, cost $1,600, 146. Plan No. 14, cost $1,500, 148. Plan No. 15, cost $2,550, 150. Plan No. 16, cost $2,800, 153. Plan No. 17, cost $2,200, 154. Plan No. 18, cost $1,600, 155. Plan No. 19, cost $1,400, 158. Plan No. 20, cost $1,200, 158. Plan No. 21, cost $1,700, 161. Plan No. 22, cost $800, 161. Plan No. 23, cost $1,600, 162. Plan No. 24, cost $1,100, 162. Plan No. 25, cost $1,400, 163. Plan No. 26, cost $2,000, 163. Plan No. 27, cost $3,000, 165. Plan No. 28, cost $2,800, 165. Plan No. 29, cost $2,600, 166. Plan No. 30, cost $3,000, 167. Plan No. 31, cost $2,400, 169. Plan No. 32, cost $4,000, 172. Plan No. 33, cost $2,800, 173. Plan No. 34, cost $2,500, 174. Plan No. 35, cost $2,250, 175. Plan No. 36, cost $2,000, 175. Plan No. 37, cost $2,100, 176. Plan No. 38, cost $2,000, 177. Plan No. 39, cost $3,500, 178. Plan No. 40, cost $3,100, 179. Plan No. 41, cost $3,400, 179. Plan No. 42, cost $2,800, 180. Plan No. 43, cost $2,200, 183. Plan No. 44, cost $5,000, 184. Plan No. 45, cost $2,100, 184. Plan No. 46, cost $3,400, 185. Plan No. 47, cost $10,000, 187. Plan No. 48, cost $3,400, 189. Plan No. 49, cost $3,400, 190. Plan No. 50, cost $10,000, 192. Plumbing, 64-74. Plumbing costs, 268-270. Plumbing fixtures, 65. Plumbing, practical, 247-263. Porcelain water-closets, 69. Porches, 31, 220. Practical house-building, 195-274. Preface, 3, 4. Prevention of freezing in plumbing, 70, 71. Privy vault, 209, 210. Purchase of a lot, 312-316. Purchase on a rental basis, 291-293. Radiation, direct, 80, 81. Radiation, indirect, 80, 81. Ready mixed paint, 242. Rear stairway, 60. Reception-hall, 35, 36. Reception-hall decoration, 88, 89. Reception-hall mantel, 89. Refrigerator, 47. Refrigerator drain, 48, 241, Ridge coping, 240. Ridge finish, 216, 217. Rodded joints, 199. Roof, 216, 217. Safety in plumbing, 64. Safes, 258. Sash weights, 219. Savings banks and building associations, 296, 297. Schedule "B," 268. Sealed proposals, 284. Second floor, the, 59-63. Servant's bedroom, 62. Service pipes, 249. Sewer and vault connection, 65. Sewer connection, 72, 261, 262. Sewer gas, 66, 67, 72. Sheet glass, 245. Shower-bath, 257. Shingles, 216, 217, 218. Shingles, painting of, 216. Shingles, stained, 218. Shingle walls, 217. Shutters, outside, 219, 220. Shutters, inside, 229, 230. Siding, drop, 217. Siding, German, 217. Side-hall plans, 164-166. Sink in cellar, 254. Sink in kitchen, 43, 230, 254. Sitting-room, 35, 36, 91. Sizes for framing lumber, 213, 214. Sliding doors, 225. Soap-box, 48, 49, 232. Soft-water supply, 250. Soil pipe, 66, 67, 253. Splash board, 230, 231. Splash board in bath-room, 231. Spouts, 240. Staining, exterior, 243. Staining, interior, 243. Stained shingles, 218. Stairs, 234, 235. Stairs, combination, 59, 60. Stairways, 59, 60. Stairway, combination, 137, 140, 141. Stairway, rear, 60. Steam heating, 80. Stone foundations, 207, 208. Stone sills, 208. Stone steps, 208, 209. Stop beads, 227. Stop cocks, 249. Storm water connections, 262. Stories, height of, 214. "S" trap, 66, 67, 263. Street washer, 249. Stove heating, 80. Stud walls, 215, 216. Tables in kitchen, 230. Table of inside finish, 224. Tank wood-work, 231. Terminating plan in building associations, 299, 300. Terra cotta, 209. Tin hot-air pipes, 241. Tin-work, 239-241. Transoms, 226. Traps, 66, 67, 263. Traps fail to act, 76. Trap screws, 263. Trimmer arch, 205, 206. Trimmers, 214. Valleys, 239. Vault and sewer connection, 65. Veneered doors, 225, 226. Veneer of brick, 203. Ventilation and heating, 75-85. Ventilation, drain, 71. Ventilation, house, 75, 79. Ventilation of kitchen, 49. Vestibule, 31-33. Vestibule decoration, 87, 88. Wainscoting, 229. Wainscoting in kitchen, 49. Walls of shingles, 217. Wash-stand, 72, 259, 260. Wash-stand wood-work, 231. Waste pipe, 66, 67. Water-closets, 68, 69, 70, 259. Water-closets, porcelain, 69. Water-closet, washout, 68, 69. Water-closet wood-work, 231. Water distribution, 248. Water for builder, 197. Water for laundry, 56, 57. Water motor, 251. Water tank in attic, 71. Water seal, 67, 68. Windows, 218, 219. Wooden brick, 204. Wood carving, 90. Wood-work for bath-room, 231. Wood for inside finish, 225. Wood-work for plumber, 230, 231. Wood-work for water-closet, 231. * * * * * "_THIS BEAUTIFUL BOOK._" _--Standard Union._ BEAUTIFUL HOUSES. BY LOUIS H. GIBSON, ARCHITECT. AUTHOR OF "CONVENIENT HOUSES." WITH OVER 250 ILLUSTRATIONS. 8VO. CLOTH. $3.00. Since the publication of his "Convenient Houses" Mr. Gibson has been abroad, where he made a careful study of the national architecture of many countries. Mr. Gibson is remarkable for the skill with which he manages to utilize ordinary waste spaces, to place every possible convenience in the housekeeper's hands; in short, to apply common-sense in an uncommon manner. No one interested in building a new house, or altering over an old one, could fail to obtain valuable hints from his books. The volume is sumptuously illustrated, and will be a delight to all connoisseurs, both of architecture and of book-making. Contents of the Book. HOUSE-BUILDING AN ART. Ugly houses, uneducated architects, cost never measures the artistic, development of art in building, the primitive house, first principles, the Greek temple and the Indian hut, the old Roman and the Old Colonial, Romanesque architecture, Gothic architecture, decline of the Gothic, the Renaissance, modern architecture of Europe, characteristics of modern American architecture, etc. THE WORLD'S HOMES. French domestic architecture, twelfth century building, floor plans of domestic structures, picturesque stair towers, half-timber architecture of the twelfth century, our use of French examples, Breton customs, furniture, French chateaux, English domestic architecture, domestic buildings of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, picturesque details, from the Gothic to the Renaissance, modern architecture of Germany, Swiss architecture, Old Colonial architecture, a classic development, characteristic New England architecture, luxurious character of the Old Colonial in the South, etc. SOME HOUSE PLANS. Relation of the exterior to the location, the dormers, the inside finish, mantels, a centre-hall plan, frame building, a little room for cloaks and wraps, decorative forms, interior photographs, external details, Greek mouldings, a wide central hall open at each end, large rooms, a picturesque stairway, color schemes in decoration, description of floor plan, a fine location, a river front, picturesque stair-hall, a smoking-room under the balcony, etc. MATERIALS AND DETAILS. Shingle-houses, the proper surroundings, the stains of time, artificial stain, examples, slate walls, fireplaces and mantels, character in mantels, tile facings, onyx and brick, doors, the defensive, hospitality, material, foreign examples, domestic doors, stairs, foreign examples, broad landings, Old Colonial stairways, iron railings, furniture, architects' designs, sideboards, bookcases, seats, lounges, screens, grilles, walls and ceilings, etc. THE ARCHITECT. The architect and the housewife, business and the arts, costs, proper understanding of the client's wishes, plenty of time to make plans. Press Notices. New York Sun. "A handsome book, copiously illustrated, giving foreign examples in domestic architecture, a collection of American house plans, and including a consideration of materials and details for the benefit of the artistic house-builder." Chicago Evening Post. "A most timely publication, and will find admirers among amateur builders as well as trained architects." Boston Advertiser. "Mr. Gibson's book is something more than an enunciation of theories. Under the headings 'Some House Plans' and 'Materials and Details,' there is a practical working out of the architect's general idea. This part of the work is most valuably suggestive, and the intending house builder will find it greatly to his interest to consult Mr. Gibson's books. The present volume is one in which marked utility is combined with great beauty." Detroit Free Press. "It would hardly seem possible that a work on house-building could be such pleasant reading as is this handsome volume." Congregationalist. "His former book met a real need. His present work is full of wise and practical suggestions as to securing beauty without sacrificing convenience or running into extravagance. All about to build or reconstruct a house will find it helpful." Indianapolis News. "This work is a credit to Mr. Gibson and to his profession. It is a reflection of deep knowledge of architecture, and of experience in the practice of the profession. The illustrations are abundant and excellent, and the whole is a beautiful piece of book-making. An appropriate cover is designed by David Gibson." Literary World. "The author is an architect of knowledge, ideas, and tastes.... To any family projecting a home of their own this volume will bring a multitude of helps." Bookseller, Newsdealer and Stationer. "One of the handsomest and at the same time most practical books ever published by the Crowells." _For Sale by all Booksellers, or sent postpaid by the Publishers on receipt of price._ T. Y. CROWELL & CO., New York and Boston. * * * * * Transcriber's note: Obvious punctuation errors have been corrected and missing punctuation has been added. Archaic words and misspelled words, as well as inconsistent hyphenation, have been retained with the exception of those listed below. Page 60: "the" added for continuity (The rear stairway should be connected with the front part of the house). Page 89: "of" added for continuity (This arrangement frequently admits of the placing of a seat along one side of the outer part of the lower landing.) Page 292: No footnote is included at the bottom of the page for the reference contained in the text. 
19998	----	file was produced from images produced by Core Historical Literature in Agriculture (CHLA), Cornell University) [Transcriber's Note: Typographical errors and inconsistencies are listed at the end of the text.] * * * * * RURAL ARCHITECTURE. Being A Complete Description of FARM HOUSES, COTTAGES, and OUT BUILDINGS, Comprising Wood Houses, Workshops, Tool Houses, Carriage and Wagon Houses, Stables, Smoke and Ash Houses, Ice Houses, Apiary or Bee House, Poultry Houses, Rabbitry, Dovecote, Piggery, Barns and Sheds for Cattle, &c., &c., &c. Together With Lawns, Pleasure Grounds and Parks; The Flower, Fruit and Vegetable Garden. Also, Useful and Ornamental Domestic Animals for the Country Resident, &c., &c., &c. Also, The Best Method Of CONDUCTING WATER INTO CATTLE YARDS AND HOUSES. BY LEWIS F. ALLEN. Beautifully Illustrated. New York: C. M. SAXTON, Agricultural Book Publisher. 1852. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1852. By LEWIS F. ALLEN, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York. Stereotyped by JEWETT, THOMAS AND CO. Buffalo, N.Y. ADVERTISEMENT. The writer of these pages ought, perhaps, to apologize for attempting a work on a subject, of which he is not a _professional_ master, either in design or execution. In the science of Farm buildings he claims no better knowledge than a long practical observation has given him. The thoughts herein submitted for the consideration of those interested in the subject of Farm buildings are the result of that observation, added to his experience in the use of such buildings, and a conviction of the inconveniences attending many of those already planned and erected. Nor is it intended, in the production of this work, to interfere with the labors of the professional builder. To such builder all who may be disposed to adopt any model or suggestion here presented, are referred, for the various details, in their specifications, and estimates, that may be required; presuming that the designs and descriptions of this work will be sufficient for the guidance of any master builder, in their erection and completion. But for the solicitation of those who believe that the undersigned could offer some improvements in the construction of Farm buildings for the benefit of our landholders and practical farmers, these pages would probably never have appeared. They are offered in the hope that they may be useful in assisting to form the taste, and add to the comfort of those who are the main instruments in embellishing the face of our country in its most pleasing and agreeable features--the American Farmer. LEWIS F. ALLEN. Black Rock, N.Y. 1851. NOTE.--For throwing the Designs embraced in these pages into their present artistic form, the writer is indebted to Messrs. Otis & Brown, architects, of Buffalo, to whose skill and experience he takes a pleasure in recommending such as may wish instruction in the plans, drawings, specifications, or estimates relating to either of the designs here submitted, or for others of any kind that may be adapted to their purposes. L. F. A. CONTENTS. Page. PREFATORY, 9 INTRODUCTORY, 13 General Suggestions, 19 Style of Building--Miscellaneous, 23 Position of Farm Houses, 29 Home Embellishments, 32 Material for Farm Buildings, 37 Outside Color of Houses, 42 A Short Chapter on Taste, 48 The Construction of Cellars, 54 Ventilation of Houses, 56 Interior Accommodation of Houses, 65 Chimney Tops, 68 Preliminary to our Designs, 69 DESIGN I. A Farm House, 72 Interior Arrangement, 75 Ground Plan, 76 Chamber Plan, 77 Miscellaneous, 80 As a Tenant House, 81 DESIGN II. Description, 84 Ground and Chamber Plans, 89 Interior Arrangement, 90 Miscellaneous Details, 95 DESIGN III. Description, 101 Ground and Chamber Plans, 105 Interior Arrangement, 106 Miscellaneous, 111 DESIGN IV. Description, 114 Interior Arrangement, 118 Ground Plan, 119 Chamber Plan, 120 Surrounding Plantations, Shrubbery, Walks, &c., 125 Tree Planting in the Highway, 129 DESIGN V. Description, 133 Interior Arrangement, 135 Ground Plan, 136 Chamber Plan, 142 Construction, Cost of Building, &c., 147 Grounds, Plantations, and Surroundings, 149 DESIGN VI. A Southern, or Plantation House, 154 Interior Arrangement, 159 Chamber Plan, 162 Carriage House, 163 Miscellaneous, 163 Lawn and Park Surroundings, 166 An Ancient New England Family, 168 An American Homestead of the Last Century, 169 Estimate of Cost of Design VI, 172 DESIGN VII. A Plantation House, 175 Interior Arrangement, 176 Ground Plan, 177 Chamber Plan, 178 Miscellaneous, 179 LAWNS, GROUNDS, PARKS, AND WOODS, 181 The Forest Trees of America, 183 Influence of Trees and Forests on the Character of men, 184 Hillhouse and Walter Scott as Tree Planters, 187 Doctor Johnson, no Rural Taste, 188 Fruit Garden--Orchard, 194 How to lay out a Kitchen Garden, 197 Flowers, 202 Wild Flowers of America, 203 Succession of Home Flowers, 206 FARM COTTAGES, 208 DESIGN I, and Ground Plan, 213 Interior Arrangement 214 DESIGN II, and Ground Plan, 216 Interior Arrangement, 216 DESIGN III, and Ground Plan, 220 Interior Arrangement, 220 DESIGN IV, and Ground Plan, 226 Interior Arrangement, 229 Cottage Outside Decoration, 231 Cottages on the Skirts of Estates, 233 House and Cottage Furniture, 235 APIARY, OR BEE HOUSE, 246 View of Apiary and Ground Plan, and description, 249 Mode of Taking the Honey, 252 AN ICE HOUSE, 258 Elevation and Ground Plan, 260 AN ASH HOUSE AND SMOKE HOUSE, 264 Elevation and Ground Plan, 265 THE POULTRY HOUSE, 267 Elevation and Ground Plan, 269 Interior Arrangement, 271 THE DOVECOTE, 275 Different Varieties of Pigeons, 278 A PIGGERY, 279 Elevation and Ground Plan, 281 Interior Arrangement, 282 Construction of Piggery--Cost, 283 FARM BARNS, 286 DESIGN I. Description, 291 Interior Arrangement, and Main Floor Plan, 293 Underground Plan, and Yard, 295 DESIGN II. Description, 300 Interior Arrangement, 303 Floor Plan, 304 BARN ATTACHMENTS, 308 RABBITS, 311 Mr. Rotch's Description of his Rabbits, 313 Rabbits and Hutch, 315 Dutch, and English Rabbits, 318 Mode of Feeding, 319 Mr. Rodman's Rabbitry, Elevation, and Floor Plan, 322 Explanations, 323 Loft or Garret, Explanation, 324 Cellar plan, Explanation, 325 Front and Back of Hutches, and Explanation, 326 DAIRY BUILDINGS, 330 Cheese Dairy House, 330 Elevation of Dairy House and Ground Plan, 331 Interior Arrangement, 333 The Butter Dairy, 335 THE WATER RAM, 237 Figure and Description, 338 GRANARY--Rat-proof, 343 IMPROVED DOMESTIC ANIMALS, 345 Short Horn Bull, 349 Short Horn Cow, 352 Devon Cow and Bull, 355 Southdown Ram and Ewe, 359 Long-wooled Ram and Ewe, 362 Common Sheep, 364 Remarks, 365 WATERFOWLS, 370 The African Goose, 370 China Goose, 371 Bremen Goose, 372 A WORD ABOUT DOGS, 374 Smooth Terrier, 377 Shepherd Dog, 381 PREFATORY. This work owes its appearance to the absence of any cheap and popular book on the subject of Rural Architecture, exclusively intended for the farming or agricultural interest of the United States. Why it is, that nothing of the kind has been heretofore attempted for the chief benefit of so large and important a class of our community as our farmers comprise, is not easy to say, unless it be that they themselves have indicated but little wish for instruction in a branch of domestic economy which is, in reality, one of great importance, not only to their domestic enjoyment, but their pecuniary welfare. It is, too, perhaps, among the category of neglects, and in the lack of fidelity to their own interests which pervades the agricultural community of this country, beyond those of any other profession--for we insist that agriculture, in its true and extended sense, is as much a profession as any other pursuit whatever. To the reality of such neglects they have but of late awaked, and indeed are now far too slowly wheeling into line for more active progress in the knowledge pertaining to their own advancement. As an accessory to their labors in such advancement, the present work is intended. It is an opinion far too prevalent among those engaged in the more active occupations of our people,--fortified indeed in such opinion, by the too frequent example of the farmer himself--that everything connected with agriculture and agricultural life is of a rustic and uncouth character; that it is a profession in which ignorance, as they understand the term, is entirely consistent, and one with which no aspirations of a high or an elevated character should, or at least need be connected. It is a reflection upon the integrity of the great agricultural interest of the country, that any such opinion should prevail; and discreditable to that interest, that its condition or example should for a moment justify, or even tolerate it. Without going into any extended course of remark, we shall find ample reason for the indifference which has prevailed among our rural population, on the subject of their own domestic architecture, in the absence of familiar and practical works on the subject, by such as have given any considerable degree of thought to it; and, what little thought has been devoted to this branch of building, has been incidentally rather than directly thrown off by those professionally engaged in the finer architectural studies appertaining to luxury and taste, instead of the every-day wants of a strictly agricultural population, and, of consequence, understanding but imperfectly the wants and conveniences of the farm house in its connection with the every-day labors and necessities of farm life. It is not intended, in these remarks, to depreciate the efforts of those who have attempted to instruct our farmers in this interesting branch of agricultural economy. We owe them a debt of gratitude for what they have accomplished in the introduction of their designs to our notice; and when it is remarked that they are insufficient for the purposes intended, it may be also taken as an admission of our own neglect, that we have so far disregarded the subject ourselves, as to force upon others the duty of essaying to instruct us in a work of which we ourselves should long ago have been the masters. Why should a farmer, because he _is_ a farmer, only occupy an uncouth, outlandish house, any more than a professional man, a merchant, or a mechanic? Is it because he himself is so uncouth and outlandish in his thoughts and manners, that he deserves no better? Is it because his occupation is degrading, his intellect ignorant, his position in life low, and his associations debasing? Surely not. Yet, in many of the plans and designs got up for his accommodation, in the books and publications of the day, all due convenience, to say nothing of the respectability or the elegance of domestic life, is as entirely disregarded as if such qualities had no connection with the farmer or his occupation. We hold, that although many of the practical operations of the farm may be rough, laborious, and untidy, yet they are not, and need not be inconsistent with the knowledge and practice of neatness, order, and even elegance and refinement within doors; and, that the due accommodation of the various things appertaining to farm stock, farm labor, and farm life, should have a tendency to elevate the social position, the associations, thoughts, and entire condition of the farmer. As the man himself--no matter what his occupation--be lodged and fed, so influenced, in a degree, will be his practice in the daily duties of his life. A squalid, miserable tenement, with which they who inhabit it are content, can lead to no elevation of character, no improvement in condition, either social or moral, of its occupants. But, the family comfortably and tidily, although humbly provided in their habitation and domestic arrangements, have usually a corresponding character in their personal relations. A log cabin, even,--and I speak of this primitive American structure with profound affection and regard, as the shelter from which we have achieved the most of our prodigious and rapid agricultural conquests,--may be so constructed as to speak an air of neatness, intelligence, and even refinement in those who inhabit it. Admitting, then, without further argument, that well conditioned household accommodations are as important to the farmer, even to the indulgence of luxury itself, when it can be afforded, as for those who occupy other and more active pursuits, it is quite important that he be equally well instructed in the art of planning and arranging these accommodations, and in designing, also, the various other structures which are necessary to his wants in their fullest extent. As a question of economy, both in saving and accumulating, good and sufficient buildings are of the first consequence, in a pecuniary light, and when to this are added other considerations touching our social enjoyment, our advancement in temporal condition, our associations, our position and influence in life, and, not least, the decided item of national good taste which the introduction of good buildings throughout our extended agricultural country will give, we find abundant cause for effort in improvement. It is not intended in our remarks to convey the impression that we Americans, as a people, are destitute of comfortable, and, in many cases, quite convenient household and farm arrangements. Numerous farmeries in every section of the United States, particularly in the older ones, demonstrate most fully, that where our farmers have taken the trouble to _think_ on the subject, their ingenuity has been equal, in the items of convenient and economical arrangement of their dwellings and out-buildings, to their demands. But, we are forced to say, that such buildings have been executed, in most cases, with great neglect of _architectural_ system, taste, or effect; and, in many instances, to the utter violation of all _propriety_ in appearance, or character, as appertaining to the uses for which they are applied. The character of the farm should be carried out so as to _express_ itself in everything which it contains. All should bear a consistent relation with each other. The former himself is a plain man. His family are plain people, although none the less worthy, useful, or exalted, on that account. His structures, of every kind, should be plain, also, yet substantial, where substance is required. All these detract nothing from his respectability or his influence in the neighborhood, the town, the county, or the state. A farmer has quite as much business in the field, or about his ordinary occupations, with ragged garments, out at elbows, and a crownless hat, as he has to occupy a leaky, wind-broken, and dilapidated house. Neither is he any nearer the mark, with a ruffled shirt, a fancy dress, or gloved hands, when following his plough behind a pair of _fancy_ horses, than in living in a finical, pretending house, such as we see stuck up in conspicuous places in many parts of the country. All these are out of place in each extreme, and the one is as absurd, so far as true propriety is concerned, as the other. A fitness of things, or a correspondence of one thing with another, should always be preserved upon the farm, as elsewhere; and there is not a single reason why propriety and good keeping should not as well distinguish it. Nor is there any good cause why the farmer himself should not be a man of taste, in the arrangement and architecture of every building on his place, as well as other men. It is only necessary that he devote a little time to study, in order to give his mind a right direction in all that appertains to this department. Or, if he prefer to employ the ingenuity of others to do his planning,--which, by the way, is, in most cases, the more natural and better course,--he certainly should possess sufficient judgment to see that such plans be correct and will answer his purposes. The plans and directions submitted in this work are intended to be of the most practical kind; plain, substantial, and applicable, throughout, to the purposes intended, and such as are within the reach--each in their kind--of every farmer in our country. These plans are chiefly original; that is, they are not copied from any in the books, or from any structures with which the writer is familiar. Yet they will doubtless, on examination, be found in several cases to resemble buildings, both in outward appearance and interior arrangement, with which numerous readers may be acquainted. The object, in addition to our own designs, has been to apply practical hints, gathered from other structures in use, which have seemed appropriate for a work of the limited extent here offered, and that may serve to improve the taste of all such as, in building useful structures, desire to embellish their farms and estates in an agreeable style of home architecture, at once pleasant to the eye, and convenient in their arrangement. INTRODUCTORY. The lover of country life who looks upon rural objects in the true spirit, and, for the first time surveys the cultivated portions of the United States, will be struck with the incongruous appearance and style of our farm houses and their contiguous buildings; and, although, on examination, he will find many, that in their interior accommodation, and perhaps relative arrangement to each other, are tolerably suited to the business and convenience of the husbandman, still, the feeling will prevail that there is an absence of method, congruity, and correct taste in the architectural structure of his buildings generally, by the American farmer. We may, in truth, be said to have no architecture at all, as exhibited in our agricultural districts, so far as any correct system, or plan is concerned, as the better taste in building, which a few years past has introduced among us, has been chiefly confined to our cities and towns of rapid growth. Even in the comparatively few buildings in the modern style to be seen in our farming districts, from the various requirements of those buildings being partially unknown to the architect and builder, who had their planning--and upon whom, owing to their own inexperience in such matters, their employers have relied--a majority of such dwellings have turned out, if not absolute failures, certainly not what the necessities of the farmer has demanded. Consequently, save in the mere item of outward appearance--and that, not always--the farmer and cottager have gained nothing, owing to the absurdity in style or arrangement, and want of fitness to circumstances adopted for the occasion. We have stated that our prevailing rural architecture is discordant in appearance; it may be added, that it is also uncouth, out of keeping with correct rules, and, ofttimes offensive to the eye of any lover of rural harmony. Why it is so, no matter, beyond the apology already given--that of an absence of cultivation, and thought upon the subject. It may be asked, of what consequence is it that the farmer or small property-holder should conform to given rules, or mode, in the style and arrangement of his dwelling, or out-buildings, so that they be reasonably convenient, and answer his purposes? For the same reason that he requires symmetry, excellence of form or style, in his horses, his cattle, or other farm stock, household furniture, or personal dress. It is an arrangement of artificial objects, in harmony with natural objects; a cultivation of the sympathies which every rational being should have, more or less, with true taste; that costs little or nothing in the attainment, and, when attained, is a source of gratification through life. Every human being is bound, under ordinary circumstances, to leave the world somewhat better, so far as his own acts or exertions are concerned, than he found it, in the exercise of such faculties as have been given him. Such duty, among thinking men, is conceded, so far as the moral world is concerned; and why not in the artificial? So far as the influence for good goes, in all practical use, from the building of a temple, to the knocking together of a pig-stye--a labor of years, or the work of a day--the exercise of a correct taste is important, in a degree. In the available physical features of a country, no land upon earth exceeds North America. From scenery the most sublime, through the several gradations of magnificence and grandeur, down to the simply picturesque and beautiful, in all variety and shade; in compass vast, or in area limited, we have an endless variety, and, with a pouring out of God's harmonies in the creation, without a parallel, inviting every intelligent mind to study their features and character, in adapting them to his own uses, and, in so doing, to even embellish--if such a thing be possible--such exquisite objects with his own most ingenious handiwork. Indeed, it is a profanation to do otherwise; and when so to improve them requires no extraordinary application of skill, or any extravagant outlay in expense, not to plan and to build in conformity with good taste, is an absolute barbarism, inexcusable in a land like ours, and among a population claiming the intelligence we do, or making but a share of the general progress which we exhibit. It is the idea of some, that a house or building which the farmer or planter occupies, should, in shape, style, and character, be like some of the stored-up commodities of his farm or plantation. We cannot subscribe to this suggestion. We know of no good reason why the walls of a farm house should appear like a hay rick, or its roof like the thatched covering to his wheat stacks, because such are the shapes best adapted to preserve his crops, any more than the grocer's habitation should be made to imitate a tea chest, or the shipping merchant's a rum puncheon, or cotton bale. We have an idea that the farmer, or the planter, according to his means and requirements, should be as well housed and accommodated, and in as agreeable style, too, as any other class of community; not in like character, in all things, to be sure, but in his own proper way and manner. Nor do we know why a farm house should assume a peculiarly primitive or uncultivated style of architecture, from other sensible houses. That it be a _farm_ house, is sufficiently apparent from its locality upon the farm itself; that its interior arrangement be for the convenience of the in-door farm work, and the proper accommodation of the farmer's family, should be quite as apparent; but, that it should assume an uncouth or clownish aspect, is as unnecessary as that the farmer himself should be a boor in his manners, or a dolt in his intellect. The farm, in its proper cultivation, is the foundation of all human prosperity, and from it is derived the main wealth of the community. From the farm chiefly springs that energetic class of men, who replace the enervated and physically decaying multitude continually thrown off in the waste-weir of our great commercial and manufacturing cities and towns, whose population, without the infusion--and that continually--of the strong, substantial, and vigorous life blood of the country, would soon dwindle into insignificance and decrepitude. Why then should not this first, primitive, health-enjoying and life-sustaining class of our people be equally accommodated in all that gives to social and substantial life, its due development? It is absurd to deny them by others, or that they deny themselves, the least of such advantages, or that any mark of _caste_ be attempted to separate them from any other class or profession of equal wealth, means, or necessity. It is quite as well to say that the farmer should worship on the Sabbath in a _meeting-house_, built after the fashion of his barn, or that his district school house should look like a stable, as that his dwelling should not exhibit all that cheerfulness and respectability in form and feature which belongs to the houses of any class of our population whatever. Not that the farm house should be like the town or the village house, in character, style, or architecture, but that it should, in its own proper character, express all the comfort, repose, and quietude which belong to the retired and thoughtful occupation of him who inhabits it. Sheltered in its own secluded, yet independent domain, with a cheerful, _intelligent_ exterior, it should exhibit all the pains-taking in home embellishment and rural decoration that becomes its position, and which would make it an object of attraction and regard. * * * * * RURAL ARCHITECTURE. * * * * * GENERAL SUGGESTIONS. In ascertaining what is desirable to the conveniences, or the necessities in our household arrangement, it may be not unprofitable to look about us, and consider somewhat, the existing condition of the structures too many of us now inhabit, and which, in the light of true fitness for the objects designed, are inconvenient, absurd, and out of all harmony of purpose; yet, under the guidance of a better skill, and a moderate outlay, might be well adapted, in most cases, to our convenience and comfort, and quite well, to a reasonable standard of taste in architectural appearance. At the threshold--not of the house, but of this treatise--it may be well to remark that it is not here assumed that there has been neither skill, ingenuity, nor occasional good taste exhibited, for many generations back, in the United States, in the construction of farm and country houses. On the contrary, there are found in the older states many farm and country houses that are almost models, in their way, for convenience in the main purposes required of structures of their kind, and such as can hardly be altered for the better. Such, however, form the exception, not the rule; yet instead of standing as objects for imitation, they have been ruled out as antiquated, and unfit for modern builders to consult, who have in the introduction of some real improvements, also left out, or discarded much that is valuable, and, where true comfort is concerned, indispensable to perfect housekeeping. Alteration is not always improvement, and in the rage for innovation of all kinds, among much that is valuable, a great deal in house-building has been introduced that is absolutely pernicious. Take, for instance, some of our ancient-looking country houses of the last century, which, in America, we call old. See their ample dimensions; their heavy, massive walls; their low, comfortable ceilings; their high gables; sharp roofs; deep porches, and spreading eaves, and contrast them with the ambitious, tall, proportionless, and card-sided things of a modern date, and draw the comparison in true comfort, which the ancient mansion really affords, by the side of the other. Bating its huge chimneys, its wide fire-places, its heavy beams dropping below the ceiling overhead, and the lack of some modern conveniences, which, to be added, would give all that is desired, and every man possessed of a proper judgment will concede the superiority to the house of the last century. That American house-building of the last fifty years is out of joint, requires no better proof than that the main improvements which have been applied to our rural architecture, are in the English style of farm and country houses of two or three centuries ago; so, in that particular, we acknowledge the better taste and judgment of our ancestors. True, modern luxury, and in some particulars, modern improvement has made obsolete, if not absurd, many things considered indispensable in a ruder age. The wide, rambling halls and rooms; the huge, deep fire-places in the chimneys; the proximity of out-buildings, and the contiguity of stables, ricks, and cattle-yards--all these are wisely contracted, dispensed with, or thrown off to a proper distance; but instead of such style being abandoned altogether, as has too often been done, the house itself might better have been partially reformed, and the interior arrangement adapted to modern convenience. Such changes have in some instances been made; and when so, how often does the old mansion, with outward features in good preservation, outspeak, in all the expression of home-bred comforts, the flashy, gimcrack neighbor, which in its plenitude of modern pretension looks so flauntingly down upon it! We cannot, in the United States, consistently adopt the domestic architecture of any other country, throughout, to our use. We are different in our institutions, our habits, our agriculture, our climates. Utility is our chief object, and coupled with that, the indulgence of an agreeable taste may be permitted to every one who creates a home for himself, or founds one for his family. The frequent changes of estates incident to our laws, and the many inducements held out to our people to change their locality or residence, in the hope of bettering their condition, is a strong hindrance to the adoption of a universally correct system in the construction of our buildings; deadening, as the effect of such changes, that home feeling which should be a prominent trait of agricultural character. An attachment to locality is not a conspicuous trait of American character; and if there be a people on earth boasting a high civilization and intelligence, who are at the same time a roving race, the Americans are that people; and we acknowledge it a blemish in our domestic and social constitution. Such remark is not dropped invidiously, but as a reason why we have thus far made so little progress in the arts of home embellishment, and in clustering about our habitations those innumerable attractions which win us to them sufficiently to repel the temptation so often presented to our enterprise, our ambition, or love of gain--and these not always successful--in seeking other and distant places of abode. If, then, this tendency to change--a want of attachment to any one spot--is a reason why we have been so indifferent to domestic architecture; and if the study and practice of a better system of building tends to cultivate a home feeling, why should it not be encouraged? Home attachment is a virtue. Therefore let that virtue be cherished. And if any one study tend to exalt our taste, and promote our enjoyment, let us cultivate that study to the highest extent within our reach. STYLE OF BUILDING.--MISCELLANEOUS. Diversified as are the features of our country in climate, soil, surface, and position, no one style of rural architecture is properly adapted to the whole; and it is a gratifying incident to the indulgence in a variety of taste, that we possess the opportunity which we desire in its display to almost any extent in mode and effect. The Swiss chalêt may hang in the mountain pass; the pointed Gothic may shoot up among the evergreens of the rugged hill-side; the Italian roof, with its overlooking campanile, may command the wooded slope or the open plain; or the quaint and shadowy style of the old English mansion, embosomed in its vines and shrubbery, may nestle in the quiet, shaded valley, all suited to their respective positions, and each in harmony with the natural features by which it is surrounded. Nor does the effect which such structures give to the landscape in an ornamental point of view, require that they be more imposing in character than the necessities of the occasion may demand. True economy demands a structure sufficiently spacious to accommodate its occupants in the best manner, so far as convenience and comfort are concerned in a dwelling; and its conformity to just rules in architecture need not be additionally expensive or troublesome. He who builds at all, if it be anything beyond a rude or temporary shelter, may as easily and cheaply build in accordance with correct rules of architecture, as against such rules; and it no more requires an extravagance in cost or a wasteful occupation of room to produce a given effect in a house suited to humble means, than in one of profuse accommodation. Magnificence, or the attempt at magnificence in building, is the great fault with Americans who aim to build out of the common line; and the consequence of such attempt is too often a failure, apparent, always, at a glance, and of course a perfect condemnation in itself of the judgment as well as taste of him who undertakes it. Holding our tenures as we do, with no privilege of entail to our posterity, an eye to his own interest, or to that of his family who is to succeed to his estate, should admonish the builder of a house to the adoption of a plan which will, in case of the sale of the estate, involve no serious loss. He should build such a house as will be no detriment, in its expense, to the selling value of the land on which it stands, and always fitted for the spot it occupies. Hence, an imitation of the high, extended, castellated mansions of England, or the Continent, although in miniature, are altogether unsuited to the American farmer or planter, whose lands, instead of increasing in his family, are continually subject to division, or to sale in mass, on his own demise; and when the estate is encumbered with unnecessarily large and expensive buildings, they become an absolute drawback to its value in either event. An expensive house requires a corresponding expense to maintain it, otherwise its effect is lost, and many a worthy owner of a costly mansion has been driven to sell and abandon his estate altogether, from his unwillingness or inability to support "the establishment" which it entailed; when, if the dwelling were only such as the estate required and could reasonably maintain, a contented and happy home would have remained to himself and family. It behooves, therefore, the American builder to examine well his premises, to ascertain the actual requirements of his farm or plantation, in convenience and accommodation, and build only to such extent, and at such cost as shall not impoverish his means, nor cause him future disquietude. Another difficulty with us is, that we oftener build to gratify the eyes of the public than our own, and fit up our dwellings to accommodate "company" or visitors, rather than our own families; and in the indulgence of this false notion, subject ourselves to perpetual inconvenience for the gratification of occasional hospitality or ostentation. This is all wrong. A house should be planned and constructed for the use of the household, with _incidental_ accommodation for our immediate friends or guests--which can always be done without sacrifice to the comfort or convenience of the regular inmates. In this remark, a stinted and parsimonious spirit is not suggested. A liberal appropriation of rooms in every department; a spare chamber or two, or an additional room on the ground floor, looking to a possible increase of family, and the indulgence of an easy hospitality, should always govern the resident of the country in erecting his dwelling. The enjoyments of society and the intercourse of friends, sharing for the time, our own table and fireside, is a crowning pleasure of country life; and all this may be done without extraordinary expense, in a wise construction of the dwelling. The farm house too, should comport in character and area with the extent and capacity of the farm itself, and the main design for which it is erected. To the farmer proper--he who lives from the income which the farm produces--it is important to know the extent of accommodation required for the economical management of his estate, and then to build in accordance with it, as well as to suit his own position in life, and the station which he and his family hold in society. The owner of a hundred acre farm, living upon the income he receives from it, will require less house room than he who tills equally well his farm of three, six, or ten hundred acres. Yet the numbers in their respective families, the relative position of each in society, or their taste for social intercourse may demand a larger or smaller household arrangement, regardless of the size of their estates; still, the dwellings on each should bear, in extent and expense, a consistent relation to the land itself, and the means of its owner. For instance: a farm of one hundred acres may safely and economically erect and maintain a house costing eight hundred to two thousand dollars, while one of five hundred to a thousand acres may range in an expenditure of twenty-five hundred to five thousand dollars in its dwelling, and all be consistent with a proper economy in farm management. Let it be understood, that the above sums are named as simply comporting with a financial view of the subject, and such as the economical management of the estate may warrant. To one who has no regard to such consideration, this rule of expenditure will not apply. He may invest any amount he so chooses in building beyond, if he only be content to pocket the loss which he can never expect to be returned in an increased value to the property, over and above the price of cheaper buildings. On the other hand, he would do well to consider that a farm is frequently worth less to an ordinary purchaser, with an extravagant house upon it, than with an economical one, and in many cases will bring even less in market, in proportion as the dwelling is expensive. _Fancy_ purchasers are few, and fastidious, while he who buys only for a home and an occupation, is governed solely by the profitable returns the estate will afford upon the capital invested. There is again a grand error which many fall into in building, looking as they do only at the extent of wood and timber; or stone and mortar in the structure, and paying no attention to the surroundings, which in most cases contribute more to the effect of the establishment than the structure itself, and which, if uncultivated or neglected, any amount of expenditure in building will fail to give that completeness and perfection of character which every homestead should command. Thus the tawdry erections in imitation of a cast-off feudalism in Europe, or a copying of the massive piles of more recent date abroad, although in miniature, both in extent and cost, is the sheerest affectation, in which no sensible man should ever indulge. It is out of all keeping, or propriety with other things, as we in this country have them, and the indulgence of all such fancies is sooner or later regretted. Substance, convenience, purpose, harmony--all, perhaps, better summed up in the term EXPRESSION--these are the objects which should govern the construction of our dwellings and out-buildings, and in their observance we can hardly err in the acquisition of what will promote the highest enjoyment which a dwelling can bestow. POSITION. The site of a dwelling should be an important study with every country builder; for on this depends much of its utility, and in addition to that, a large share of the enjoyment which its occupation will afford. Custom, in many parts of the United States, in the location of the farm buildings, gives advantages which are denied in others. In the south, and in the slave states generally, the planter builds, regardless of roads, on the most convenient site his plantation presents; the farmer of German descent, in Pennsylvania and some other states, does the same: while the Yankee, be he settled where he will, either in the east, north, or west, inexorably huddles himself immediately upon the highway, whether his possessions embrace both sides of it or not, disregarding the facilities of access to his fields, the convenience of tilling his crops, or the character of the ground which his buildings may occupy, seeming to have no other object than proximity to the road--as if his chief business was upon that, instead of its being simply a convenience to his occupation. To the last, but little choice is left; and so long as a close connection with the thoroughfare is to control, he is obliged to conform to accident in what should be a matter of deliberate choice and judgment. Still, there are right and wrong positions for a house, which it is necessary to discuss, regardless of conventional rules, and they should be considered in the light of propriety alone. A fitness to the purposes for which the dwelling is constructed should, unquestionably, be the governing point in determining its position. The site should be dry, and slightly declining, if possible, on every side; but if the surface be level, or where water occasionally flows from contiguous grounds, or on a soil naturally damp, it should be thoroughly drained of all superfluous moisture. That is indispensable to the preservation of the house itself, and the health of its inmates. The house should so stand as to present an agreeable aspect from the main points at which it is seen, or the thoroughfares by which it is approached. It should be so arranged as to afford protection from wind and storm, to that part most usually occupied, as well as be easy of access to the out-buildings appended to it. It should have an unmistakable front, sides, and rear; and the uses to which its various parts are applied, should distinctly appear in its outward character. It should combine all the advantages of soil, cultivation, water, shade, and shelter, which the most liberal gratification, consistent with the circumstances of the owner, may demand. If a site on the estate command a prospect of singular beauty, other things equal, the dwelling should embrace it; if the luxury of a stream, or a sheet of water in repose, present itself, it should, if possible, be enjoyed; if the shade and protection of a grove be near, its benefits should be included; in fine, any object in itself desirable, and not embarrassing to the main purposes of the dwelling and its appendages, should be turned to the best account, and appropriated in such manner as to combine all that is desirable both in beauty and effect, as well as in utility, to make up a perfect whole in the family residence. Attached to the building site should be considered the quality of the soil, as affording cultivation and growth to shrubbery and trees,--at once the ornament most effective to all domestic buildings, grateful to the eye always, as objects of admiration and beauty--delightful in the repose they offer in hours of lassitude or weariness; and to them, that indispensable feature in a perfect arrangement, the garden, both fruit and vegetable, should be added. Happily for the American, our soils are so universally adapted to the growth of vegetation in all its varieties, that hardly a farm of considerable size can be found which does not afford tolerable facilities for the exercise of all the taste which one may indulge in the cultivation of the garden as well as in the planting and growth of trees and shrubbery; and a due appropriation of these to an agreeable residence is equal in importance to the style and arrangement of the house itself. The site selected for the dwelling, and the character of the scenery and objects immediately surrounding it, should have a controlling influence upon the style in which the house is to be constructed. A fitness and harmony in all these is indispensable to both expression and effect. And in their determination, a single object should not control, but the entire picture, as completed, should be embraced in the view; and that style of building constituting the most agreeable whole, as filling the eye with the most grateful sensations, should be the one selected with which to fill up and complete the design. HOME EMBELLISHMENTS. A discussion of the objects by way of embellishment, which may be required to give character and effect to a country residence, would embrace a range too wide, in all its parts, for a simply practical treatise like this; and general hints on the subject are all indeed, that will be required, as no specific rules or directions can be given which would be applicable, indiscriminately, to guide the builder in the execution of his work. A dwelling house, no matter what the style, standing alone, either on hill or plain, apart from other objects, would hardly be an attractive sight. As a mere representation of a particular style of architecture, or as a model of imitation, it might excite our admiration, but it would not be an object on which the eye and the imagination could repose with satisfaction. It would be incomplete unless accompanied by such associates as the eye is accustomed to embrace in the full gratification of the sensations to which that organ is the conductor. But assemble around that dwelling subordinate structures, trees, and shrubbery properly disposed, and it becomes an object of exceeding interest and pleasure in the contemplation. It is therefore, that the particular style or outward arrangement of the house is but a part of what should constitute the general effect, and such style is to be consulted only so far as it may in itself please the taste, and give benefit or utility in the purposes for which it is intended. Still, the architectural design should be in harmony with the features of the surrounding scenery, and is thus important in completing the effect sought, and which cannot be accomplished without it. A farm with its buildings, or a simple country residence with the grounds which enclose it, or a cottage with its door-yard and garden, should be finished sections of the landscape of which it forms a part, or attractive points within it; and of consequence, complete each within itself, and not dependent upon distant accessories to support it--an _imperium in imperio_, in classic phrase. A tower, a monument, a steeple, or the indistinct outline of a distant town may form a striking feature in a pictorial design and the associations connected with them, or, the character in which they are contemplated may allow them to stand naked and unadorned by other objects, and still permit them to fill up in perfect harmony the picture. This idea will illustrate the importance of embellishment, not only in the substitution of trees as necessary appendages to a complete rural establishment, but in the erection of all the buildings necessary for occupation in any manner, in form and position, to give effect from any point of view in which the homestead may be seen. General appearance should not be confined to one quarter alone, but the house and its surroundings on every side should show completeness in design and harmony in execution; and although humble, and devoted to the meanest purposes, a portion of these erections may be, yet the character of utility or necessity which they maintain, gives them an air of dignity, if not of grace. Thus, a house and out-buildings flanked with orchards, or a wood, on which they apparently fall back for support, fills the eye at once with not only a beautiful group, in themselves combined, but associate the idea of repose, of comfort, and abundance--indispensable requisites to a perfect farm residence. They also seem to connect the house and out-buildings with the fields beyond, which are of necessity naked of trees, and gradually spread the view abroad over the farm until it mingles with, or is lost in the general landscape. These remarks may seem too refined, and as out of place here, and trenching upon the subject of Landscape Gardening, which is not designed to be a part, or but an incidental one of the present work, yet they are important in connection with the subject under discussion. The proper disposition of trees and shrubbery around, or in the vicinity of buildings is far too little understood, although tree planting about our dwellings is a practice pretty general throughout our country. Nothing is more common than to see a man build a house, perhaps in most elaborate and expensive style, and then plant a row of trees close upon the front, which when grown will shut it almost entirely out of view; while he leaves the rear as bald and unprotected as if it were a barn or a horse-shed--as if in utter ignorance, as he probably is, that his house is more effectively set off by a _flanking_ and _background_ of tree and shrubbery, than in front. And this is called good taste! Let us examine it. Trees near a dwelling are desirable for shade; _shelter_ they do not afford except in masses, which last is always better given to the house itself by a veranda. Immediately adjoining, or within touching distance of a house, trees create dampness, more or less litter, and frequently vermin. They injure the walls and roofs by their continual shade and dampness. They exclude the rays of the sun, and prevent a free circulation of air. Therefore, _close_ to the house, trees are absolutely pernicious, to say nothing of excluding all its architectural effect from observation; when, if planted at proper distances, they compose its finest ornaments. If it be necessary to build in good taste at all, it is quite as necessary that such good taste be kept in view throughout. A country dwelling should always be a conspicuous object in its full character and outline, from one or more prominent points of observation; consequently all plantations of tree or shrubbery in its immediate vicinity should be considered as aids to show off the house and its appendages, instead of becoming the principal objects of attraction in themselves. Their disposition should be such as to create a perfect and agreeable whole, when seen in connection with the house itself. They should also be so placed as to open the surrounding landscape to view in its most attractive features, from the various parts of the dwelling. Much in the effective disposition of trees around the dwelling will thus depend upon the character of the country seen from it, and which should control to a great extent their position. A single tree, of grand and stately dimensions, will frequently give greater effect than the most studied plantations. A ledge of rock, in the clefts of which wild vines may nestle, or around which a mass of shrubbery may cluster, will add a charm to the dwelling which an elaborate cultivation would fail to bestow; and the most negligent apparel of nature in a thousand ways may give a character which we might strive in vain to accomplish by our own invention. In the efforts to embellish our dwellings or grounds, the strong natural objects with which they are associated should be consulted, always keeping in view an _expression_ of the chief character to which the whole is applied. MATERIAL FOR FARM BUILDINGS. In a country like ours, containing within its soils and upon its surface such an abundance and variety of building material, the composition of our farm erections must depend in most cases upon the ability or the choice of the builder himself. Stone is the most durable, in the long run the cheapest, and as a consequence, the _best_ material which can be furnished for the walls of a dwelling. With other farm buildings circumstances may govern differently; still, in many sections of the United States, even stone cannot be obtained, except at an expense and inconvenience altogether forbidding its use. Yet it is a happy relief that where stone is difficult, or not at all to be obtained, the best of clay for bricks, is abundant; and in almost all parts of our country, even where building timber is scarce, its transportation is so comparatively light, and the facilities of removing it are so cheap, that wood is accessible to every one. Hence we may indulge in almost every fitting style of architecture and arrangement, to which either kind of these materials are best adapted. We shall slightly discuss them as applicable to our purposes. Stone is found either on the surface, or in quarries under ground. On the surface they lie chiefly as bowlders of less or greater size, usually of hard and durable kinds. Large bowlders may be either blasted, or split with wedges into sufficiently available shapes to lay in walls with mortar; or if small, they may with a little extra labor, be fitted by the aid of good mortar into equally substantial wall as the larger masses. In quarries they are thrown out, either by blasting or splitting in layers, so as to form regular courses when laid up; and all their varieties may, _unhammered_, except to strike off projecting points or angles, be laid up with a sufficiently smooth face to give fine effect to a building. Thus, when easily obtained, aside from the greater advantages of their durability, stone is as cheap in the first instance as lumber, excepting in new districts of country where good building lumber is the chief article of production, and cheaper than brick in any event. Stone requires no paint. Its color is a natural, therefore an agreeable one, be it usually what it may, although some shades are more grateful to the eye than others; yet it is always in harmony with natural objects, and particularly so on the farm where everything ought to wear the most substantial appearance. The outer walls of a stone house should always be _firred_ off inside for _lathing_ and plastering, to keep them thoroughly dry. Without that, the rooms are liable to dampness, which would penetrate through the stone into the inside plastering unless cut off by an open space of air between. Bricks, where stone is not found, supply its place tolerably well. When made of good clay, rightly tempered with sand, and well burned, they will in a wall remain for centuries, and as far as material is concerned, answer all purposes. Brick walls may be thinner than stone walls, but they equally require "firring off" for inside plastering, and in addition, they need the aid of paint quite as often as wood, to give them an agreeable color--bricks themselves not usually being in the category of desirable colors or shades. Wood, when abundant and easily obtained, is worked with the greatest facility, and on many accounts, is the cheapest material, _for the time_, of which a building can be constructed. But it is perishable. It requires every few years a coat of paint, and is always associated with the idea of decay. Yet wood may be moulded into an infinite variety of form to please the eye, in the indulgence of any peculiar taste or fancy. We cannot, in the consideration of material for house-building therefore, urge upon the farmer the adoption of either of the above named materials to the preference of another, in any particular structure he may require; but leave him to consult his own circumstances in regard to them, as best he may. But this we will say: _If it be possible_, never lay a _cellar_ or underground wall of perishable material, such as wood or soft bricks; nor build with soft or _unburnt_ bricks in a wall exposed to the weather _anywhere;_ nor with stone which is liable to crumble or disintegrate by the action of frost or water upon it. We are aware that unburnt bricks have been strongly recommended for house-building in America; but from observation, we are fully persuaded that they are worthless for any _permanent_ structure, and if used, will in the end prove a dead loss in their application. Cottages, out-buildings, and other cheap erections on the farm, for the accommodation of laborers, stock, or crops, may be made of wood, where wood is the cheapest and most easily obtained; and, even taking its perishable nature into account, it may be the most economical. In their construction, it may be simply a matter of calculation with him who needs them, to calculate the first cost of any material he has at hand, or may obtain, and to that add the interest upon it, the annual wear and tear, the insurance, and the period it may last, to determine this matter to his entire satisfaction--always provided he have the means at hand to do either. But other considerations generally control the American farmer. His pocket is apt more often to be pinched, than his choice is to be at fault; and this weighty argument compels him into the "make shift" system, which perhaps in its results, provided the main chance be attained, is quite as advantageous to his interests as the other. As a general remark, all buildings should show for themselves, what they are built of. Let stone be stone; bricks show on their own account; and of all things, put no counterfeit by way of plaster, stucco, or other false pretence other than paint, or a durable wash upon wood: it is a miserable affectation always, and of no possible use whatever. All counterfeit of any kind as little becomes the buildings of the farmer, as the gilded _pinchbeck_ watch would fit the finished attire of a gentleman. Before submitting the several designs proposed for this work, it may be remarked, that in addressing them to a climate strictly American, we have in every instance adopted the wide, steeply-pitched roof, with broad eaves, gables and cornices, as giving protection, shade, and shelter to the walls; thus keeping them dry and in good preservation, and giving that well housed, and comfortable expression, so different from the stiff, pinched, and tucked-up look in which so many of the haberdasher-built houses of the present day exult. We give some examples of the hipped roof, because they are convenient and cheap in their construction; and we also throw into the designs a lateral direction to the roofs of the wings, or connecting parts of the building. This is sometimes done for effect in architectural appearance, and sometimes for the economy and advantage of the building itself. Where roofs thus intersect or connect with a side wall, the connecting gutters should be made of copper, zinc, lead, galvanized iron, or tin, into which the shingles, if they be covered with that material, should be laid so as to effectually prevent leakage. The _eave gutters_ should be of copper, zinc, lead, galvanized iron or tin, also, and placed _at least_ one foot back from the edge of the roof, and lead the water into conductors down the wall into the cistern or elsewhere, as may be required. If the water be not needed, and the roof be wide over the walls, there is no objection to let it pass off naturally, if it be no inconvenience to the ground below, and can run off, or be absorbed into the ground without detriment to the cellar walls. All this must be subject to the judgment of the proprietor himself. OUTSIDE COLOR. We are not among those who cast off, and on a sudden condemn, as out of all good taste, the time-honored white house with its green blinds, often so tastefully gleaming out from beneath the shade of summer trees; nor do we doggedly adhere to it, except when in keeping, by contrast or otherwise, with everything around it. For a century past white has been the chief color of our wooden houses, and often so of brick ones, in the United States. This color has been supposed to be strong and durable, being composed chiefly of white lead; and as it _reflected_ the rays of the sun instead of _absorbing_ them, as some of the darker colors do, it was thus considered a better preserver of the weather-boarding from the cracks which the fervid heat of the sun is apt to make upon it, than the darker colors. White, consequently, has always been considered, until within a few years past, as a fitting and _tasteful_ color for dwellings, both in town and country. A new school of _taste_ in colors has risen, however, within a few years past, among us; about the same time, too, that the recent gingerbread and beadwork style of country building was introduced. And these were both, as all _new_ things are apt to be, carried to extremes. Instead of _toning_ down the glare of the white into some quiet, neutral shade, as a straw color; a drab of different hues--always an agreeable and appropriate color for a dwelling, particularly when the door and window casings are dressed with a deeper or lighter shade, as those shades predominate in the main body of the house; or a natural and soft _wood_ color, which also may be of various shades; or even the warm russet hue of some of our rich stones--quite appropriate, too, as applied to wood, or bricks--the _fashion_ must be followed without either rhyme or reason, and hundreds of our otherwise pretty and imposing country houses have been daubed over with the dirtiest, gloomiest pigment imaginable, making every habitation which it touched look more like a funeral appendage than a cheerful, life-enjoying home. We candidly say that we have no sort of affection for such sooty daubs. The fashion which dictates them is a barbarous, false, and arbitrary fashion; void of all natural taste in its inception; and to one who has a cheerful, life-loving spirit about him, such colors have no more fitness on his dwelling or out-buildings, than a tomb would have in his lawn or dooryard. Locality, amplitude of the buildings, the purpose to which they are applied--every consideration connected with them, in fact, should be consulted, as to color. Stone will give its own color; which, by the way, some prodigiously smart folks _paint_--quite as decorous or essential, as to "paint the lily." Brick sometimes must be painted, but it should be of a color in keeping with its character,--of substance and dignity; not a counterfeit of stone, or to cheat him who looks upon it into a belief that it may be marble, or other unfounded pretension. A _warm_ russet is most appropriate for brick-work of any kind of color--the color of a russet apple, or undressed leather--shades that comport with Milton's beautiful idea of "_Russet_ lawns and fallows _gray_." Red and yellow are both too glaring, and slate, or lead colors too somber and cold. It is, in fact, a strong argument in favor of bricks in building, where they can be had as cheap as stone or wood, that any color can be given to them which the good taste of the builder may require, in addition to their durability, which, when made of good material, and properly burned, is quite equal to stone. In a wooden structure one may play with his fancy in the way of color, minding in the operation, that he does not play the mountebank, and like the clown in the circus, make his tattooed tenement the derision of men of correct taste, as the other does his burlesque visage the ridicule of his auditors. A _wooden_ country house, together with its out-buildings, should always be of a cheerful and softly-toned color--a color giving a feeling of warmth and comfort; nothing glaring or flashy about it. And yet, such buildings should not, in their color, any more than in their architecture, appear as if _imitating_ either stone or brick. Wood, of itself, is light. One cannot build a _heavy_ house of wood, as compared with brick or stone. Therefore all imitation or device which may lead to a belief that it may be other than what it really is, is nothing less than a fraud--not criminal, we admit, but none the less a fraud upon good taste and architectural truth. It is true that in this country we cannot afford to place in stone and brick buildings those ornate trimmings and appendages which, perhaps, if economy were not to be consulted, might be more durably constructed of stone, but at an expense too great to be borne by those of moderate means. Yet it is not essential that such appendages should be of so expensive material. The very purposes to which they are applied, as a parapet, a railing, a balustrade, a portico, piazza, or porch; all these may be of wood, even when the material of the house _proper_ is of the most durable kind; and by being painted in keeping with the building itself, produce a fine effect, and do no violence to good taste or the most fastidious propriety. They may be even sanded to a color, and grained, stained, or otherwise brought to an identity, almost, with the material of the house, and be quite proper, because they simply are _appendages_ of convenience, necessity, or luxury, to the building itself, and may be taken away without injuring or without defacing the main structure. They are not a _material_ part of the building itself, but reared for purposes which may be dispensed with. It is a matter of taste or preference, that they were either built there, or that they remain permanently afterward, and of consequence, proper that they be of wood. Yet they should not _imitate_ stone or brick. They should still show that they _are_ of wood, but in color and outside preservation denote that they are appendages to a _stone_ or _brick_ house, by complying with the proper shades in color which predominate in the building itself, and become their own subordinate character. Not being a professional painter, or compounder of colors, we shall offer no receipts or specifics for painting or washing buildings. Climate affects the composition of both paints and washes, and those who are competent in this line, are the proper persons to dictate their various compositions; and we do but common justice to the skill and intelligence of our numerous mechanics, when we recommend to those who contemplate building, to apply forthwith to such as are masters of their trade for all the information they require on the various subjects connected with it. One who sets out to be his own architect, builder, and painter, is akin to the lawyer in the proverb, who has a fool for his client, when pleading his own case, and quite as apt to have quack in them all. Hints, general outlines, and oftentimes matters of detail in interior convenience, and many other minor affairs may be given by the proprietor, when he is neither a professional architect, mechanic, or even an amateur; but in all things affecting the _substantial_ and important parts of his buildings, he should consult those who are proficient and experienced in the department on which he consults them. And it may perhaps be added that none _professing_ to be such, are competent, unless well instructed, and whose labors have met the approbation of those competent to judge. There is one kind of color, prevailing to a great extent in many parts of our country, particularly the northern and eastern, which, in its effect upon any one having an eye to a fitness of things in country buildings, is a monstrous perversion of good taste. That is the glaring red, made up of Venetian red, ochre, or Spanish brown, with doors and windows touched off with white. The only apology we have ever heard given for such a barbarism was, that it is a good, strong, and lasting color. We shall not go into an examination as to that fact, but simply answer, that if it be so, there are other colors, not more expensive, which are equally strong and durable, and infinitely more tasteful and fitting. There can be nothing less comporting with the simplicity of rural scenery, than a glaring red color on a building. It _connects_ with nothing natural about it; it neither _fades_ into any surrounding shade of soil or vegetation, and must of necessity, stand out in its own bold and unshrouded impudence, a perfect Ishmaelite in color, and a perversion of every thing harmonious in the design. We eschew _red_, therefore, from every thing in rural architecture. A SHORT CHAPTER ON TASTE. The compound words, or terms _good-taste_ and _bad-taste_ have been used in the preceding pages without, perhaps, sufficiently explaining what is meant by the word _taste_, other than as giving vague and unsatisfactory terms to the reader in measuring the subject in hand. _Taste_ is a term universally applied in criticism of the fine-arts, such as painting, sculpture, architecture, &c., &c., of which there are many schools--of _taste_, we mean--some of them, perhaps natural, but chiefly conventional, and all more or less arbitrary. The proverb, "there is no accounting for taste," is as old as the aforesaid schools themselves, and defines perfectly our own estimate of the common usage of the term. As we have intended to use it, Webster defines the word _taste_ to be "the faculty of discerning beauty, order, congruity, proportion, symmetry, or whatever constitutes excellence; style; manner with respect to what is pleasing." With this understanding, therefore; a fitness to the purpose for which a thing is intended--got up in a manner agreeable to the eye and the mind--preserving also a harmony between its various parts and uses; pleasing to the eye, as addressed to the sense, and satisfactory to the mind, as appropriate to the object for which it is required;--these constitute _good-taste_, as the term is here understood. The term _style_, also, is "the _manner_ or _form_ of a thing." When we say, "that is a stylish house," it should mean that it is in, or approaches some particular style of building recognized by the schools. It may or may not be in accordance with good taste, and is, consequently, subject to the same capricious test in its government. Yet _styles_ are subject to arrangement, and are classified in the several schools of architecture, either as distinct specimens of acknowledged orders, as the Doric, the Ionic, the Corinthian, in Grecian architecture, or, the Tuscan and Composite, which are, more distinctly, styles of Roman architecture. To these may be added the Egyptian, the most massive of all; and either of them, in their proper character, grand and imposing when applied to public buildings or extensive structures, but altogether inapplicable, from their want of lightness and convenience, to country or even city dwellings. Other styles--not exactly orders--of architecture, such as the Italian, the Romanesque, the Gothic, the Swiss, with their modifications--all of which admit of a variety of departures from fixed rules, not allowed in the more rigid orders--may be adapted in a variety of ways, to the most agreeable and harmonious arrangement in architectural effect, for dwellings and structures appurtenant to them. The Italian style of architecture, modified somewhat in pretension and extent, is admirably adapted to most parts of the United States. Its general lightness, openness, and freedom gives a wide range of choice; and its wings, verandas, and terraces, stretching off in any and almost every direction desired, from the main building, make it exceedingly appropriate for general use. The modern, or rural Gothic, branching off sometimes into what is termed the English cottage style, and in many instances blending so intimately with the Italian, as hardly to mark the line of division, is also a beautiful _arrangement_ of building for country dwellings. These, in ruder structures, may also be carried into the Rustic--not a style proper, in itself--but so termed as approximating in execution or pretension to either of the above; while the Swiss, with its hanging roofs, and sheltering eaves may be frequently brought in aid to show out the rustic form in more completeness, and in greater harmony with surrounding objects, than either of the others. For farm houses, either of these _arrangements_ or departures from a _set_ and _positive_ style, are better fitted than any which we have noticed; and in some one or other of the modifications named, we have applied them in the examples submitted in this work. They may not therefore be viewed as _distinct_ delineations of an _order_ of architecture, or style _proper_, even; but as a _mode_ appropriate to the object required. And so long as they do not absolutely conflict with true taste, or in their construction commit a barbarism upon any acknowledged system of architecture, in any of its modifications, we hazard no impropriety in introducing them for the imitation of country builders. Congruity with the objects to which it is applied should be the chief merit of any structure whatever; and so long as that object be attained, good taste is not violated, and utility is fully subserved. Intimately connected with this subject, in rural buildings, is the _shape_ of the structure. Many of the designs recently introduced for the imitation of builders, are full of angles and all sorts of zig-zag lines, which, although they may add to the variety of style, or relieve the monotony of straight and continuous lines, are carried to a needless excess, expensive in their construction, and entail infinite trouble upon the owner or occupant, in the repairs they subject him to, in the leakages continually occurring, against which last, either of wind or rain, it is almost impossible to guard. And what, let us ask, are the benefits of a parcel of needless gables and peaked windows, running up like owl's ears, above the eaves of a house, except to create expense, and invite leakage and decay? If in appearance, they provoke an association of that kind, they certainly are not in good taste; and a foot or two of increased height in a wall, or a low window sufficient for the purpose intended, would give a tone of dignity, of comfort, and real utility, which a whole covey of such pretentious things could not. All such trumpery should be scouted from the dwelling house of the farmer, and left to the special indulgence of the town builder. A _square_ form of house will afford more area within a given line of wall than any other _sensible_ form which may be adopted. Yet a square house is not so agreeable to the eye as an oblong. Thus, a house should stand somewhat broader on one front than on another. It should also be relieved from an appearance of monotony and tameness, by one or more wings; and such wings should, at their junction with the main building, retreat or advance a sufficient distance from a continuous line, as to relieve it effectually from an appearance of stiffness, and show a different character of occupation from that of the main structure. The front of a house should be the most imposing and finished in its architecture of any one of its parts; and unless some motive of greater convenience control otherwise, its entrance the most highly wrought, as indicating the luxury of the establishment--for even the humblest habitations have their luxuries. The side rooms, or more usually occupied apartments, require less pretension in both architectural effect and finish, and should wear a more subdued appearance; while the kitchen section, and from that, the several grades of apartments stretching beyond it, should distinctly show that they are subservient in their character, and wear a style and finish accordingly. Thus, each part of the house speaks for itself. It is its own finger-board, pointing the stranger to its various accommodation, as plainly as if written on its walls, and saying as significantly as dumb walls can do, that here dwells a well regulated family, who have a parlor for their friends; a library, or sitting-room for their own leisure and comfort; an ample bedroom and nursery, for the parents and the little ones; a kitchen for the cooking; and a scullery and closets, and all the other etceteras which belong to a perfect family homestead. And so with the grounds. The lawn or "dooryard," should be the best kept ground on the place. The most conspicuous part of the garden should show its shrubbery and its flowers. The side or rear approach should be separated from the lawn, and show its constant _business_ occupation, and openly lead off to where men and farm stock meet on common ground, devoted to every purpose which the farm requires. Such arrangement would be complete in all its parts, satisfactory, and lasting. Tinsel ornament, or gewgaw decoration should never be permitted on any building where the sober enjoyment of agricultural life is designed. It can never add consideration or dignity to the retired gentleman even, and least of all should it be indulged in by the farmer, dwelling on his own cultivated acres. THE CONSTRUCTION OF CELLARS. Every farm house and farm cottage, where a family of any size occupy the latter, should have a good, substantial _stone_-walled cellar beneath it. No room attached to the farm house is more profitable, in its occupation, than the cellar. It is useful for storing numberless articles which are necessary to be kept warm and dry in winter, as well as cool in summer, of which the farmer is well aware. The walls of a cellar should rise at least one, to two, or even three feet above the level of the ground surrounding it, according to circumstances, and the rooms in it well ventilated by _two_ or more sliding sash windows in each, according to size, position, and the particular kind of storage for which it is required, so that a draft of pure air can pass through, and give it thorough ventilation at all times. It should also be at least seven and a half feet high in the clear; and if it be even nine feet, that is not too much. If the soil be compact, or such as will hold water, it should be thoroughly drained from the lowest point or corner, and the drain always kept open; (a stone drain is the best and most durable,) and if floored with a coat of flat, or rubble stones, well set in good hydraulic cement--or cement alone, when the stone cannot be obtained--all the better. This last will make it _rat proof_. For the purpose of avoiding these destructive creatures, the _foundation_ stones in the wall should be brought to a joint, and project at least six inches on each side, from the wall itself, when laid upon this bottom course; as the usual manner of rats is to burrow in a nearly perpendicular direction from the surface, by the side of the wall, when intending to undermine it. On arriving at the bottom, if circumvented by the projecting stones, they will usually abandon their work. Plank of hard wood, or hard burnt bricks, may answer this purpose when stone cannot be had. All cellar walls should be laid in good lime mortar, or if that be not practicable, they should be well pointed with it. This keeps them in place, and renders them less liable to the ingress of water and vermin. The thickness of wall should not be less than fifteen to eighteen inches, in any event, when of stone; and if the house walls above be built of stone or brick, two feet is better; and in all cases the cellar wall should be full three inches thicker than the wall resting upon it. In the cellar of every farm house there should be an outside door, with a flight of steps by which to pass roots and other bulky or heavy articles, to which a wagon or cart may approach, either to receive or discharge them. This is indispensable. Every out-building upon the farm, let it be devoted to what purpose it may, having a wooden floor on the ground story, should be set up sufficiently high from the surface to admit a cat or small terrier dog beneath such floor, with openings for them to pass in and out, or these hiding places will become so many rat warrens upon the premises, and prove most destructive to the grain and poultry. Nothing can be more annoying to the farmer than these vermin, and a trifling outlay in the beginning, will exclude them from the foundations and walls of all buildings. Care, therefore, should be taken to leave no haunt for their convenience. With these suggestions the ingenuity of every builder will provide sufficient guards against the protection of vermin beneath his buildings. VENTILATION OF HOUSES. Pure air, and enough of it, is the cheapest blessing one can enjoy; and to deny one's self so indispensable an element of good health, is little short of criminal neglect, or the sheerest folly. Yet thousands who build at much needless expense, for the protection of their health and that of their families, as they allege, and no doubt suppose, by neglecting the simplest of all contrivances, in the work of ventilation, invite disease and infirmity, from the very pains they so unwittingly take to ward off such afflictions. A man, be he farmer or of other profession, finding himself prosperous in life, sets about the very sensible business of building a house for his own accommodation. Looking back, perhaps, to the days of his boyhood, in a severe climate, he remembers the not very highly-finished tenement of his father, and the wide, open fireplace which, with its well piled logs, was scarcely able to warm the large living-room, where the family were wont to huddle in winter. He possibly remembers, with shivering sympathy, the sprinkling of snow which he was accustomed to find upon his bed as he awaked in the morning, that had found its way through the frail casing of his chamber window--but in the midst of all which he grew up with a vigorous constitution, a strong arm, and a determined spirit. He is resolved that _his_ children shall encounter no such hardships, and that himself and his excellent helpmate shall suffer no such inconvenience as his own parents had done, who now perhaps, are enjoying a strong and serene old age, in their old-fashioned, yet to them not uncomfortable tenement. He therefore determines to have a snug, _close_ house, where the cold cannot penetrate. He employs all his ingenuity to make every joint an air-tight fit; the doors must swing to an air-tight joint; the windows set into air-tight frames; and to perfect the catalogue of his comforts, an air-tight stove is introduced into every occupied room which, perchance, if he can afford it, are further warmed and poisoned by the heated flues of an air-tight furnace in his air-tight cellar. In short, it is an air-tight concern throughout. His family breathe an air-tight atmosphere; they eat their food cooked in an "air-tight kitchen witch," of the latest "premium pattern;" and thus they start, father, mother, children, all on the high road--if persisted in--to a galloping consumption, which sooner or later conducts them to an air-tight dwelling, not soon to be changed. If such melancholy catastrophe be avoided, colds, catarrhs, headaches, and all sorts of bodily afflictions shortly make their appearance, and they wonder what is the matter! They live so snug! their house is so warm! they sleep so comfortable! how can it be? True, in the morning the air of their sleeping-rooms feels close, but then if a window is opened it will chill the rooms, and that will give them colds. What _can_ be the matter? The poor creatures never dream that they have been breathing, for hour after hour, decomposed air, charged with poisonous gases, which cannot escape through the tight walls, or over the tight windows, or through the tight stoves; and thus they keep on in the sure course to infirmity, disease, and premature death--all for the want of a little ventilation! Better indeed, that instead of all this painstaking, a pane were knocked out of every window, or a panel out of every door in the house. We are not disposed to talk about cellar furnaces for heating a farmer's house. They have little to do in the farmer's inventory of goods at all, unless it be to give warmth to the hall--and even then a snug box stove, with its pipe passing into the nearest chimney is, in most cases, the better appendage. Fuel is usually abundant with the farmer; and where so, its benefits are much better dispensed in open stoves or fireplaces, than in heating furnaces or "air-tights." We have slightly discussed this subject of firing in the farm house, in a previous page, but while in the vein, must crave another word. A farmer's house should _look_ hospitable as well as _be_ hospitable, both outside and in; and the broadest, most cheerful look of hospitality within doors, in cold weather, is an _open_ fire in the chimney fireplace, with the blazing wood upon it. There is no _mistake_ about it. It thaws you out, if cold; it stirs you up, if drooping; and is the welcome, winning introduction to the good cheer that is to follow. A short time ago we went to pay a former town friend a visit. He had removed out to a snug little farm, where he could indulge his agricultural and horticultural tastes, yet still attend to his town engagements, and enjoy the quietude of the country. We rang the door bell. A servant admitted us; and leaving overcoat and hat in the hall, we entered a lone room, with an "air-tight" stove, looking as black and solemn as a Turkish eunuch upon us, and giving out about the same degree of genial warmth as the said eunuch would have expressed had he been there--an emasculated warming machine truly! On the floor was a Wilton carpet, too fine to stand on; around the room were mahogany sofas and mahogany chairs, all too fine to sit on--at all events to _rest_ one upon if he were fatigued. The blessed light of day was shut out by crimson and white curtains, held up by gilded arrows; and upon the mantle piece, and on the center and side tables were all sorts of gimcracks, costly and worthless. In short, there was no _comfort_ about the whole concern. Hearing our friend coming up from his dining-room below, where too, was his _cellar kitchen_--that most abominable of all appendages to a farm house, or to any other country house, for that matter--we buttoned our coat up close and high, thrust our hands into our pockets, and walked the room, as he entered. "Glad to see you--glad to see you, my friend!" said he, in great joy; "but dear me, why so buttoned up, as if you were going? What's the matter?" "My good sir," we replied, "you asked us to come over and see you, 'a _plain farmer_,' and 'take a quiet family dinner with you.' We have done so; and here find you with all your town nonsense about you. No fire to warm by; no seat to rest in; no nothing like a farm or farmer about you; and it only needs your charming better half, whom we always admired, when she lived in town, to take down her enameled harp, and play 'In fairy bowers by moonlight hours,' to convince one that instead of ruralizing in the country, you had gone a peg higher in town residence! No, no, we'll go down to farmer Jocelyn's, our old schoolfellow, and take a dinner of bacon and cabbage with him. If he does occupy a one-story house, he lives up in sunshine, has an open fireplace, with a blazing wood fire on a chilly day, and his 'latch string is always out.'" Our friend was petrified--astonished! We meant to go it rather strong upon him, but still kept a frank, good-humored face, that showed him no malice. He began to think he was not exactly in character, and essayed to explain. We listened to his story. His good wife came in, and all together, we had a long talk of their family and farming arrangements; how they had furnished their house; and how they proposed to live; but wound up with a sad story, that their good farming neighbors didn't call on them the _second_ time--kind, civil people they appeared, too--and while they were in, acted as though afraid to sit down, and afraid to stand up;--in short, they were dreadfully embarrassed; for why, our friends couldn't tell, but now began to understand it. "Well, my good friends," said we, "you have altogether mistaken country life in the outset. To live on a farm, it is neither necessary to be vulgar, nor clownish, nor to affect ignorance. _Simplicity_ is all you require, in manners, and equal simplicity in your furniture and appointments. Now just turn all this nonsense in furniture and room dressing out of doors, and let some of your town friends have it. Get some simple, comfortable, cottage furniture, much better for all purposes, than this, and you will settle down into quiet, natural country life before you are aware of it, and all will go 'merry as a marriage bell' with you, in a little time"--for they both loved the country, and were truly excellent people. We continued, "I came to spend the day and the night, and I will stay; and this evening we'll go down to your neighbor Jocelyn's; and you, Mrs. N----, shall go with us; and we will see how quietly and comfortably he and his family take the world in a farmer's way." We did go; not in carriage and livery, but walked the pleasant half mile that lay between them; the exercise of which gave us all activity and good spirits. Jocelyn was right glad to see us, and Patty, his staid and sober wife, with whom we had romped many an innocent hour in our childhood days, was quite as glad as he. But they _looked_ a little surprised that such "great folks" as their new neighbors, should drop in so unceremoniously, and into their common "keeping room," too, to chat away an evening. However, the embarrassment soon wore off. We talked of farming; we talked of the late elections; we talked of the fruit trees and the strawberry beds; and Mrs. Jocelyn, who was a pattern of good housekeeping, told Mrs. N---- how _she_ made her apple jellies, and her currant tarts, and cream cheeses; and before we left they had exchanged ever so many engagements,--Mrs. Patty to learn her new friend to do half a dozen nice little matters of household pickling and preserving; while she, in turn, was to teach Nancy and Fanny, Patty's two rosy-cheeked daughters, almost as pretty as their mother was at their own age, to knit a bead bag and work a fancy chair seat! And then we had apples and nuts, all of the very best--for Jocelyn was a rare hand at grafting and managing his fruit trees, and knew the best apples all over the country. We had, indeed, a capital time! To cut the story short, the next spring our friend sent his _fancy_ furniture to auction, and provided his house with simple cottage furnishings, at less than half the cost of the other; which both he and his wife afterward declared was infinitely better, for all house-keeping purposes. He also threw a neat wing on to the cottage, for an upper kitchen and its offices, and they now live like sensible country folks; and with their healthy, frolicksome children, are worth the envy of all the dyspeptic, town-fed people in existence. A long digression, truly; but so true a story, and one so apt to our subject can not well be omitted. But what has all this to do with ventilation? We'll tell you. Jocelyn's house was _ventilated_ as it should be;--for he was a methodical, thoughtful man, who planned and built his house himself--not the mechanical work, but directed it throughout, and saw that it was faithfully done; and that put us in mind of the story. To be perfect in its ventilation, every room in the house, even to the closets, should be so arranged that a current of air _may_ pass through, to keep it pure and dry. In living rooms, fresh air in sufficient quantity may usually be admitted through the doors. In sleeping rooms and closets, when doors may not be left open, one or more of the lower panels of the door may be filled by a rolling blind, opening more or less, at pleasure; or a square or oblong opening for that purpose, may be left in the base board, at the floor, and covered by a wire netting. And in all rooms, living apartments, as well as these, an opening of at least sixty-four square inches should be made in the wall, near the ceiling, and leading into an air flue, to pass into the garret. Such opening may be filled by a rolling blind, or wire screen, as below, and closed or kept open, at pleasure. Some builders prefer an air register to be placed in the chimney, over the fireplace or stove, near the ceiling; but the liability to annoyance, by smoke escaping through it into the room, if not thoroughly done, is an objection to this latter method, and the other may be made, in its construction, rather ornamental than otherwise, in appearance. All such details as these should be planned when the building is commenced, so that the several flues may be provided as the building proceeds. In a stone or brick house, a small space may be left in the walls, against which these air registers may be required; and for inner rooms, or closets, they may pass off into the openings of the partitions, and so up into the garret; from which apertures of escape may be left, or made at the gables, under the roof, or by a blind in a window. For the admission of air to the first floor of the house, a special opening through the walls, for that purpose, can hardly be necessary; as the doors leading outside are usually opened often enough for such object. One of the best ventilated houses we have ever seen, is that owned and occupied by Samuel Cloon, Esq., of Cincinnati. It is situated on his farm, three miles out of the city, and in its fine architectural appearance and finished appointments, as a rural residence and first-class farm house, is not often excelled. Every closet is ventilated through rolling blinds in the door panels; and foul air, either admitted or created within them, is passed off at once by flues near the ceiling overhead, passing into conductors leading off through the garret. Where chambers are carried into the roof of a house, to any extent, they are sometimes incommoded by the summer heat which penetrates them, conducted by the chamber ceiling overhead. This heat can best be obviated by inserting a small window at each opposite peak of the garret, by which the outside air can circulate through, above the chambers, and so pass off the heated air, which will continually ascend. All this is a simple matter, for which any builder can provide, without particular expense or trouble. INTERIOR ACCOMMODATION OF HOUSES. Ground, in the country, being the cheapest item which the farmer can devote to building purposes, his object should be to _spread over_, rather than to go deeply into it, or climb high in the air above it. We repudiate cellar kitchens, or under-ground rooms for house work, altogether, as being little better than a nuisance--dark, damp, unhealthy, inconvenient, and expensive. The several rooms of a farm dwelling house should be compact in arrangement, and contiguous as may be to the principally-occupied apartments. Such arrangement is cheaper, more convenient, and labor-saving; and in addition, more in accordance with a good and correct taste in the outward appearance of the house itself. The general introduction of cooking stoves, and other stoves and apparatus for warming houses, within the last twenty years, which we acknowledge to be a great acquisition in comfort as well as in convenience and economy, has been carried to an extreme, not only in shutting up and shutting out the time-honored open fireplace and its broad hearthstone, with their hallowed associations, but also in prejudice to the health of those who so indiscriminately use them, regardless of other arrangements which ought to go with them. A farm house should never be built without an ample, open fireplace in its kitchen, and other _principally_ occupied rooms; and in all rooms where stoves are placed, and fires are daily required, the _open_ Franklin should take place of the close or air-tight stove, unless extraordinary ventilation to such rooms be adopted also. The great charm of the farmer's winter evening is the open fireside, with its cheerful blaze and glowing embers; not wastefully expended, but giving out that genial warmth and comfort which, to those who are accustomed to its enjoyment, is a pleasure not made up by any invention whatever; and although the cooking stove or range be required--which, in addition to the fireplace, we would always recommend, to lighten female labor--it can be so arranged as not to interfere with the enjoyment or convenience of the open fire. In the construction of the chimneys which appear in the plans submitted, the great majority of them--particularly those for northern latitudes--are placed in the interior of the house. They are less liable to communicate fire to the building, and assist greatly in warming the rooms through which they pass. In southern houses they are not so necessary, fires being required for a much less period of the year. Yet even there they may be oftentimes properly so placed. Where holes, for the passage of stovepipes through floors, partitions, or into chimneys, are made, stone, earthen, or iron thimbles should be inserted; and, except in the chimneys, such holes should be at least one to two inches larger than the pipe itself. The main flues of the chimney conducting off the smoke of the different fires, should be built separate, and kept apart by a partition of one brick in thickness, and carried out independently, as in no other way will they rid the house of smoky rooms. [Illustration] An illustration in point: Fifteen years ago we purchased and removed into a most substantial and well-built stone house, the chimneys of which were constructed with open fireplaces, and the flues carried up separately to the top, where they all met upon the same level surface, as chimneys in past times usually were built, thus. Every fireplace in the house (and some of them had stoves in,) smoked intolerably; so much so, that when the wind was in some quarters the fires had to be put out in every room but the kitchen, which, as good luck would have it, smoked less--although it did smoke there--than the others. After balancing the matter in our own mind some time, whether we should pull down and rebuild the chimneys altogether, or attempt an alteration; as we had given but little thought to the subject of chimney draft, and to try an experiment was the cheapest, we set to work a bricklayer, who, under our direction, simply built over each discharge of the several flues a separate top of fifteen inches high, in this wise: The remedy was perfect. We have had no smoke in the house since, blow the wind as it may, on any and all occasions. The chimneys _can't_ smoke; and the whole expense for four chimneys, with their twelve flues, was not twenty dollars! The remedy was in giving each outlet a _distinct_ current of air all around, and on every side of it. [Illustration] CHIMNEY TOPS. Nothing adds more to the outward expression of a dwelling, than the style of its chimneys. We have just shown that independent chimney tops pass off their smoke more perfectly, than when only partitioned inside to the common point of outlet. Aside from the architectural beauty which a group of chimney flues adds to the building, we have seen that they are really useful, beyond the formal, square-sided piles so common throughout the country. They denote good cheer, social firesides, and a generous hospitality within--features which should always mark the country dwelling; and more particularly that of the farmer. The style and arrangement of these chimney groups may be various, as comporting with the design of the house itself; and any good architect can arrange them as fitted to such design. Our illustrations will show them of different kinds, which are generally cheap in construction, and simple, yet expressive in their arrangement. PRELIMINARY TO OUR DESIGNS. We have discussed with tolerable fullness, the chief subjects connected with farm buildings--sufficiently so, we trust, to make ourselves understood as desiring to combine utility with commendable ornament in all that pertains to them. The object has been, thus far, to give hints, rather than models, in description. But as the point to which we have endeavored to arrive will be but imperfectly understood without illustration, we shall submit a few plans of houses and outbuildings, as carrying out more fully our ideas. We are quite aware that different forms or fashions of detail and finish, to both outside and inside work, prevail among builders in different sections of the United States. Some of these fashions are the result of climate, some of conventional taste, and some of education. With them we are not disposed to quarrel. In many cases they are immaterial to the main objects of the work, and so long as they please the taste or partialities of those adopting them, are of little consequence. There are, however, certain matters of _principle_, both in general construction and in the detail of finish, which should not be disregarded; and these, in the designs submitted, and in the explanations which follow, will be fully discussed, each in its place. The particular form or style of work we have not directed, because, as before remarked, we are no professional builder, and of course free from the dogmas which are too apt to be inculcated in the professional schools and workshops. We give a wide berth, and a free toleration in all such matters, and are not disposed to raise a hornet's nest about our ears by interfering in matters where every tyro of the drafting board and work-bench assumes to be, and probably may be, our superior. All minor subjects we are free to leave to the skill and ingenuity of the builder--who, fortunately for the country, is found in almost every village and hamlet of the land. Modes and styles of finish, both inside and outside of buildings, change; and that so frequently, that what is laid down as the reigning fashion to-day, may be superseded by another fashion of to-morrow--immaterial in themselves, only, and not affecting the shape, arrangement, and accommodation of the building itself, which in these, must ever maintain their relation with the use for which it is intended. The northern dwelling, with its dependencies and appointments, requires a more compact, snug, and connected arrangement than that of the south; while one in the middle states may assume a style of arrangement between them both, each fitted for their own climate and country, and in equally good taste. The designs we are about to submit are intended to be such as may be modified to any section of the country, although some of them are made for extremes of north and south, and are so distinguished. Another object we have had in view is, to give to every farmer and country dweller of moderate means the opportunity of possessing a cheap work which would guide him in the general objects which he wishes to accomplish in building, that he may _have his own notions_ on the subject, and not be subject to the caprice and government of such as profess to exclusive knowledge in all that appertains to such subjects, and in which, it need not be offensive to say, that although clever in their way, they are sometimes apt to be mistaken. Therefore, without assuming _to instruct_ the professional builder, our plans will be submitted, not without the hope that he even, may find in them something worthy of consideration; and we offer them to the owner and future occupant of the buildings themselves, as models which he may adopt, with the confidence that they will answer all his reasonable purposes. DESIGN I. We here present a farm house of the simplest and most unpretending kind, suitable for a farm of twenty, fifty, or an hundred acres. Buildings somewhat in this style are not unfrequently seen in the New England States, and in New York; and the plan is in fact suggested, although not copied, from some farm houses which we have known there, with improvements and additions of our own. [Illustration: FARM HOUSE. Pages 73-74.] This house may be built either of stone, brick, or wood. The style is rather rustic than otherwise, and intended to be altogether plain, yet agreeable in outward appearance, and of quite convenient arrangement. The body of this house is 40�30 feet on the ground, and 12 feet high, to the plates for the roof; the lower rooms nine feet high; the roof intended for a pitch of 35°--but, by an error in the drawing, made less--thus affording very tolerable chamber room in the roof story. The L, or rear projection, containing the wash-room and wood-house, juts out two feet from the side of the house to which it is attached, with posts 7½ feet high above the floor of the main house; the pitch of the roof being the same. Beyond this is a building 32�24 feet, with 10 feet posts, partitioned off into a swill-room, piggery, workshop, and wagon-house, and a like roof with the others. A light, rustic porch, 12�8 feet, with lattice work, is placed on the front of the house, and another at the side door, over which vines, by way of drapery, may run; thus combining that sheltered, comfortable, and home-like expression so desirable in a rural dwelling. The chimney is carried out in three separate flues, sufficiently marked by the partitions above the roof. The windows are hooded, or sheltered, to protect them from the weather, and fitted with simple sliding sashes with 7�9 or 8�10 glass. Outer blinds may be added, if required; but it is usually better to have these _inside_, as they are no ornament to the outside of the building, are liable to be driven back and forth by the wind, even if fastenings are used, and in any event are little better than a continual annoyance. [Illustration: GROUND PLAN.] INTERIOR ARRANGEMENT. The front door, over which is a single sash-light across, opens into a hall or entry 9�7 feet, from which a door opens on either side into a sitting-room and parlor, each 16�15 feet, lighted by a double, plain window, at the ends, and a single two-sash window in front. Between the entrance door and stove, are in each room a small pantry or closet for dishes, or otherwise, as may be required. The chimney stands in the center of the house, with a separate flue for each front room, into which a thimble is inserted to receive the stovepipes by which they are warmed; and from the inner side of these rooms each has a door passing to the kitchen, or chief living room. This last apartment is 22�15 feet, with a broad fireplace containing a crane, hooks, and trammel, if required, and a spacious family oven--affording those homely and primitive comforts still so dear to many of us who are not ready to concede that all the virtues of the present day are combined in a "perfection" cooking stove, and a "patent" heater; although there is a chance for these last, if they should be adopted into the peaceful atmosphere of this kitchen. [Illustration: CHAMBER PLAN.] On one side of the kitchen, in rear of the stairs, is a bedroom, 9�8 feet, with a window in one corner. Adjoining that, is a buttery, dairy-room, or closet, 9�6 feet, also having a window. At the inner end of the stairway is the cellar passage; at the outer end is the chamber passage, landing above, in the highest part of the roof story. Opposite the chamber stairs is a door leading to the wash-room. Between the two windows, on the rear side of the kitchen, is a sink, with a waste pipe passing out through the wall. At the further corner a door opens into a snug bedroom 9�8 feet, lighted by a window in rear; and adjoining this is a side entry leading from the end door, 9�6 feet in area; thus making every room in the house accessible at once from the kitchen, and giving the greatest possible convenience in both living and house-work. The roof story is partitioned into convenient-sized bedrooms; the ceiling running down the pitch of the roof to within two feet of the floor, unless they are cut short by inner partitions, as they are in the largest chamber, to give closets. The open area in the center, at the head of the stairs, is lighted by a small gable window inserted in the roof, at the rear, and serves as a lumber room; or, if necessary, a bed may occupy a part of it. In rear of the main dwelling is a building 44�16 feet, occupied as a wash-room and wood-house. The wash-room floor is let down eight inches below the kitchen, and is 16�14 feet, in area, lighted by a window on each side, with a chimney, in which is set a boiler, and fireplace, if desired, and a sink in the corner adjoining. This room is 7½ feet in height. A door passes from this wash-room into the wood-house, which is 30�16 feet, open in front, with a water-closet in the further corner. The cellar is 7½ feet in height--and is the whole size of the house, laid with good stone wall, in lime mortar, with a flight of steps leading outside, in rear of the kitchen, and two or more sash-light windows at the ends. If not in a loose, gravelly, or sandy soil, the cellar should be kept dry by a drain leading out on to lower ground. The building beyond, and adjoining the wood-house, contains a swill-house 16�12 feet, with a window in one end; a chimney and boiler in one corner, with storage for swill barrels, grain, meal, potatoes, &c., for feeding the pigs, which are in the adjoining pen of same size, with feeding trough, place for sleeping, &c., and having a window in one end and a door in the rear, leading to a yard. Adjoining these, in front, is a workshop and tool-house, 16�10 feet, with a window at the end, and an entrance door near the wood house. In this is a joiner's work-bench, a chest of working tools, such as saw, hammer, augers, &c., &c., necessary for repairing implements, doing little rough jobs, or other wood work, &c., which every farmer ought to do for himself; and also storing his hoes, axes, shovels, hammers, and other small farm implements. In this room he will find abundant rainy-day employment in repairing his utensils of various kinds, making his beehives, hencoops, &c., &c. Next to this is the wagon-house, 16�14 feet, with broad doors at the end, and harness pegs around the walls. The posts of this building are 10 feet high; the rooms eight feet high, and a low chamber overhead for storing lumber, grain, and other articles, as may be required. Altogether, these several apartments make a very complete and desirable accommodation to a man with the property and occupation for which it is intended. On one side and adjoining the house, should be the garden, the clothes-yard, and the bee-house, which last should always stand in full sight, and facing the most frequented room--say the kitchen--that they can be seen daily during the swarming season, as those performing household duties may keep them in view. MISCELLANEOUS. In regard to the surroundings, and approach to this dwelling, they should be treated under the suggestions already given on these subjects. This is an exceedingly _snug_ tenement, and everything around and about it should be of the same character. No pretension or frippery whatever. A neat garden, usefully, rather than ornamentally and profusely supplied; a moderate court-yard in front; free access to the end door, from the main every-day approach by vehicles--not on the highway, but on the farm road or lane--the business entrance, in fact; which should also lead to the barns and sheds beyond, not far distant. Every feature should wear a most domestic look, and breathe an air of repose and content. Trees should be near, but not so near as to cover the house. A few shrubs of simple kind--some standing roses--a few climbing ones; a syringa, a lilac, a snow ball, and a little patch or two of flowers near the front porch, and the whole expression is given; just as one would wish to look upon as a simple, unpretending habitation. It is not here proposed to give working plans, or estimates, to a nicety; or particular directions for building any design even, that we present. The material for construction best suited to the circumstances and locality of the proprietor must govern all those matters; and as good builders are in most cases at hand, who are competent to give estimates for the cost of any given plan, when the material for construction is once settled, the question of expense is readily fixed. The same sized house, with the same accommodation, may be made to cost fifty to one hundred per cent. over an economical estimate, by the increased style, or manner of its finish; or it may be kept within bounds by a rigid adherence to the plan first adopted. In western New York this house and attachments complete, the body of stone, the wood-house, wagon-house, &c., of wood, may be built and well finished in a plain way for $1,500. If built altogether of wood, with grooved and matched vertical boarding, and battens, the whole may be finished and painted for $800, to $1,200. For the lowest sum, the lumber and work would be of a rough kind, with a cheap wash to color it; but the latter amount would give good work, and a lasting coat of mineral paint both outside and within. As a _tenant_ house on a farm of three, four, or even five hundred acres, where all who live in it are laborers in the field or household, this design may be most conveniently adopted. The family inhabiting it in winter may be well accommodated for sleeping under the main roof, while they can at all seasons take their meals, and be made comfortable in the several rooms. In the summer season, when a larger number of laborers are employed, the lofts of the carriage or wagon-house and work-shop may be occupied with beds, and thus a large share of the expense of house building for a very considerable farm be saved. Luxury is a quality more or less consulted by every one who builds for his _own_ occupation on a farm, or elsewhere; and the tendency in building is constantly to expand, to give a higher finish, and in fact, to over-build. Indeed, if we were to draw the balance, on our _old_ farms, between scantily-accommodated houses, and houses with needless room in them, the latter would preponderate. Not that these latter houses either are too good, or too convenient for the purpose for which they were built, but they have _too much_ room, and that room badly appropriated and arranged. On a farm proper, the whole establishment is a _workshop_. The shop _out of doors_, we acknowledge, is not always _dry_, nor always warm; but it is exceedingly well aired and lighted, and a place where industrious people dearly love to labor. Within doors it is a work-shop too. There is always labor and occupation for the family, in the _general business_ of the farm; therefore but little room is wanted for either luxury or leisure, and the farm house should be fully occupied, with the exception, perhaps, of a single room on the main floor, (and that not a large one,) for some regular business purpose. All these accommodated, and the requirements of the house are ended. Owners of _rented_ farms should reflect, too, that expensive houses on their estates entail expensive repairs, and that continually. Many tenants are careless of highly-finished houses. Not early accustomed to them, they misappropriate, perhaps, the best rooms in the house, and pay little attention to the purposes for which the owner designed them, or to the _manner_ of using them. It is therefore a total waste of money to build a house on a tenant estate anything beyond the mere comfortable wants of the family occupying it, and to furnish the room necessary for the accommodation of the crops, stock, and farm furniture, in the barns and other out-buildings--all in a cheap, tidy, yet substantial way. So, too, with the grounds for domestic purposes around the house. A kitchen garden, sufficient to grow the family vegetables--a few plain fruits--a _posey_ bed or two for the girls--and the story is told. Give a larger space for these things--anything indeed, for elegance--and ten to one, the plow is introduced, a corn or potato patch is _set out_, field culture is adopted, and your choice grounds are torn up, defaced, and sacrificed to the commonest uses. Notwithstanding these drawbacks, a cheerful, home-expression may be given, and should be given to the homestead, in the character and construction of the buildings, be they ever so rough and homely. We can call to mind many instances of primitive houses-_log_ cabins even--built when none better could be had, that presented a most comfortable and life-enjoying picture--residences once, indeed, of those who swayed "the applause of listening senates," but under the hands of taste, and a trifle of labor, made to look comfortable, happy, and sufficient. We confess, therefore, to a profound veneration, if not affection, for the humble farm house, as truly American in character; and which, with a moderate display of skill, may be made equal to the main purposes of life and enjoyment for all such as do not aspire to a high display, and who are content to make the most of moderate means. DESIGN II. This is the plan of a house and out-buildings based chiefly on one which we built of wood some years since on a farm of our own, and which, in its occupation, has proved to be one of exceeding convenience to the purposes intended. As a farm _business_ house, we have not known it excelled; nor in the ease and facility of doing up the house-work within it, do we know a better. It has a subdued, quiet, unpretending look; yet will accommodate a family of a dozen workmen, besides the females engaged in the household work, with perfect convenience; or if occupied by a farmer with but his own family around him, ample room is afforded them for a most comfortable mode of life, and sufficient for the requirements of a farm of two, to three or four hundred acres. [Illustration: FARM HOUSE. Pages 85-86] This house is, in the main body, 36�22 feet, one and a half stories high, with a projection on the rear 34�16 feet, for the kitchen and its offices; and a still further addition to that, of 26�18 feet, for wash-room. The main body of the house is 14 feet high to the plates; the lower rooms are 9 feet high; the roof has a pitch of 35° from a horizontal line, giving partially-upright chambers in the main building, and _roof_ lodging rooms in the rear. The rear, or kitchen part, is one story high, with 10 feet posts, and such pitch of roof (which last runs at right angles to the main body, and laps on to the main roof,) as will carry the peak up to the same air line. This addition should retreat 6 inches from the line of the main building, on the side given in the design, and 18 inches on the rear. The rooms on this kitchen floor are 8 feet high, leaving one foot above the upper floor, under the roof, as a chamber garret, or lumber-room, as may be required. Beyond this, in the rear, is the other extension spoken of, with posts 9 feet high, for a buttery, closet, or dairy, or all three combined, and a wash-room; the floor of which is on a level with the last, and the roof running in the same direction, and of the same pitch. In front of this wash-room, where not covered by the wood-house, is an open porch, 8 feet wide and 10 feet long, the roof of which runs out at a less angle than the others--say 30° from a horizontal line. Attached to this is the wood-house, running off by way of L, at right angles, 36�16 feet, of same height as the wash-room. Adjoining the wood-house, on the same front line, is a building 50�20 feet, with 12 feet posts, occupied as a workshop, wagon-house, stable, and store-room, with a lean-to on the last of 15�10 feet, for a piggery. The several rooms in this building are 8 feet high, affording a good lumber room over the workshop, and hay storage over the wagon-house and stable. Over the wagon-house is a gable, with a blind window swinging on hinges, for receiving hay, thus relieving the long, uniform line of roof, and affording ample accommodation on each side to a pigeon-house or dovecote, if required. The style of this establishment is of plain Italian, or bracketed, and may be equally applied to stone, brick, or wood. The roofs are broad, and protect the walls by their full projection over them, 2½ feet. The small gable in the front roof of the main dwelling relieves it of its otherwise straight uniformity, and affords a high door-window opening on to the deck of the veranda, which latter should be 8 or 10 feet in width. The shallow windows, also, over the wings of the veranda give it a more cheerful expression. The lower _end_ windows of this part of the house are hooded, or sheltered by a cheap roof, which gives them a snug and most comfortable appearance. The veranda may appear more ornamental than the plain character of the house requires; but any superfluous work upon it may be omitted, and the style of finish conformed to the other. The veranda roof is flatter than that of the house, but it may be made perfectly tight by closer shingling, and paint; while the deck or platform in the centre may be roofed with zinc, or tin, and a coat of sanded paint laid upon it. The front chimney is plain, yet in keeping with the general style of the house, and may be made of ordinary bricks. The two parts of the chimney, as they appear in the front rooms, are drawn together as they pass through the chamber above, and become one at the roof. The kitchen chimneys pass up through the peaks of their respective roofs, and should be in like character with the other. [Illustration: CHAMBER PLAN. GROUND PLAN.] INTERIOR ARRANGEMENT. The front door of this house opens into a small entry or hall, 9�6 feet, which is lighted by a low sash of glass over the front door. A door leads into a room on each side; and at the inner end of the hall is a recess between the two chimneys of the opposite rooms, in which may be placed a table or broad shelf to receive hats and coats. On the left is a parlor 22�15 feet, lighted on one side by a double window, and in front by a single plain one. The fireplace is centrally placed on one side of the room, in the middle of the house. On one side of the fireplace is a closet, three feet deep, with shelves, and another closet at the inner end of the room, near the kitchen door; or this closet may be dispensed with for the use of this parlor, and given up to enlarge the closet which is attached to the bedroom. Another door opens directly into the kitchen. This parlor is 9 feet high between joints. The sitting-room is opposite to the parlor, 19�15 feet, and lighted and closeted in nearly the same manner, as will be seen by referring to the floor plan. The kitchen is the grand room of this house. It is 24�16 feet in area, having an ample fireplace, with its hooks and trammels, and a spacious oven by its side. It is lighted by a double window at one end, and a single window near the fireplace. At one end of this kitchen is a most comfortable and commodious family bedroom, 13�10 feet, with a large closet in one corner, and lighted by a window in the side. Two windows may be inserted if wanted. A passage leads by the side of the oven to a sink-room, or recess, behind the chimney, with shelves to dry dishes on, and lighted by the half of a double window, which accommodates with its other half the dairy, or closet adjoining. A door also opens from this recess into the closet and dairy, furnished with broad shelves, that part of which, next the kitchen, is used for dishes, cold meat and bread cupboards, &c.; while the part of it adjoining the window beyond, is used for milk. This room is 14�6 feet, besides the L running up next to the kitchen, of 6�4 feet. From the kitchen also opens a closet into the front part of the house for any purpose needed. This adjoins the parlor, and sitting-room, closets. In the passage to the sitting-room also opens the stairway leading to the chambers, and beneath, at the other end of it, next the outside wall, is a flight leading down cellar. The cellar is excavated under the whole house, being 36�22, and 34�16 feet, with glass windows, one light deep by four wide, of 8�10 glass; and an outer door, and flight of steps outside, under either the sitting-room or kitchen windows, as may be most convenient. A door opens, also, from the kitchen, into a passage 4 feet wide and 12 feet long leading to the wash-room, 18�16 feet, and by an outside door, through this passage to the porch. In this passage may be a small window to give it light. In the wash-room are two windows. A chimney at the far end accommodates a boiler or two, and a fireplace, if required. A sink stands adjoining the chimney. A flight of stairs, leading to a garret over head on one side, and to the kitchen chamber on the other, stands next the dairy, into which last a door also leads. In this wash-room may be located the cooking stove in warm weather, leaving the main kitchen for a family and eating room. A door also leads from the wash-room into the wood-house. The wood-house stands lower than the floor of the wash-room, from which it falls, by steps. This is large, because a plentiful store of wood is needed for a dwelling of this character. If the room be not all wanted for such purpose, a part of it may devoted to other necessary uses, there seldom being too much shelter of this kind on a farm; through the rear wall of this wood-house leads a door into the garden, or clothes-yard, as the case may be; and at its extreme angle is a water closet, 6�4 feet, by way of lean-to, with a hipped roof, 8 feet high, running off from both the wood-house and workshop. This water-closet is lighted by a sliding sash window. On to the wood-house, in a continuous front line, joins the workshop, an indispensable appendage to farm convenience. This has a flight of stairs leading to the lumber-room above. For the furnishing of this apartment, see description of Design I. Next to the work-house is the wagon and tool-house, above which is the hay loft, also spread over the stable adjoining; in which last are stalls for a pair of horses, which may be required for uses other than the main labors of the farm--to run to market, carry the family to church, or elsewhere. A pair of horses for such purposes should always be kept near the house. The horse-stalls occupy a space of 10�12 feet, with racks and feeding boxes. The plans of these will be described hereafter. The door leading out from these stalls is 5 feet wide, and faces the partition, so that each horse may be led out or in at an easy angle from them. Beyond the stalls is a passage 4 feet wide, leading to a store-room or area, from which a flight of rough stairs leads to the hay loft above. Beyond this room, in which is the oat bin for the horses, is a small piggery, for the convenience of a pig or two, which are always required to consume the daily wash and offal of the house; and not for the general _pork_ stock of the farm; which, on one of this size, may be expected to require more commodious quarters. The chamber plan of this house is commodious, furnishing one large room and three smaller ones. The small chamber leading to the deck over the porch, may, or may not be occupied as a sleeping room. The small one near the stairs may contain a single bed, or be occupied as a large clothes-closet. Through this, a door leads into the kitchen chamber, which may serve as one, or more laborers' bed-chambers. They may be lighted by one or more windows in the rear gable. If more convenient to the family, the parlor and sitting-room, already described, may change their occupation, and one substituted for the other. The main business approach to this house should be by a lane, or farm road opening on the side next the stable and wagon-house. The yard, in front of these last named buildings, should be separated from the lawn, or front door-yard of the dwelling. The establishment should stand some distance back from the traveled highway, and be decorated with such trees, shrubbery, and cultivation, as the taste of the owner may direct. No _general_ rules or directions can be applicable to this design beyond what have already been given; and the subject must be treated as circumstances may suggest. The unfrequented side of the house should, however, be flanked with a garden, either ornamental, or fruit and vegetable; as buildings of this character ought to command a corresponding share of attention with the grounds by which they are surrounded. This house will appear equally well built of wood, brick, or stone. Its cost, according to materials, or finish, may be $1,000 or $1,500. The out-buildings attached, will add $400 to $600, with the same conditions as to finish; but the whole may be substantially and well built of either stone, brick, or wood, where each may be had at equal convenience, for $2,000 in the interior of New York. Of course, it is intended to do all the work plain, and in character for the occupation to which it is intended. MISCELLANEOUS DETAILS. At this point of our remarks a word or two may be offered on the general subject of inside finish to farm houses, which may be applicable more or less to any one, or all of the designs that may come under our observation; therefore what is here said, may be applied at large. Different sections of the United States have their own several _local_ notions, or preferences as to the mode of finish to their houses and out-buildings, according to climate, education, or other circumstances. In all these matters neither taste, fashion, nor climate should be arbitrary. The manner of finish may be various, without any departure from truth or propriety--always keeping in mind the object for which it is intended. The _material_ for a country house should be _strong_, and _durable_, and the work simple in its details, beyond that for either town or suburban houses. It should be _strong_, for the reason that the interior of the farm house is used for purposes of industry, in finishing up and perfecting the labors of the farm; labors indispensable too, and in amount beyond the ordinary housekeeping requirements of a family who have little to do but merely to live, and make themselves comfortable. The material should be _durable_, because the distance at which the farm house is usually located from the residences of building mechanics, renders it particularly troublesome and expensive to make repairs, and alterations. The work should be _simple_, because cheaper in the first place, in construction, and finish; quite as appropriate and satisfactory in appearance; and demanding infinitely less labor and pains to care for, and protect it afterward. Therefore all mouldings, architraves, _chisel_-work, and gewgawgery in interior finish should be let alone in the living and daily occupied rooms of the house. If, to a single parlor, or _spare_ bedchamber a little _ornamental_ work be permitted, let even that be in moderation, and just enough to teach the active mistress and her daughters what a world of scrubbing and elbow work they have saved themselves in the enjoyment of a plainly-finished house, instead of one full of gingerbread work and finery. None but the initiated can tell the affliction that _chiseled_ finishing entails on housekeepers in the spider, fly, and other insect lodgment which it invites--frequently the cause of more annoyance and _daily_ disquietude in housekeeping, because unnecessary, than real griefs from which we may not expect to escape. Bases, casings, sashes, doors--all should be plain, and painted or stained a quiet _russet_ color--a color natural to the woods used for the finish, if it can be, showing, in their wear, as little of dust, soiling, and fly dirt as possible. There is no poetry about common housekeeping. Cooking, house-cleaning, washing, scrubbing, sweeping, are altogether matter-of-fact duties, and usually considered _work_, not recreation; and these should all be made easy of performance, and as seldom to be done as possible; although the first item always was, and always _will_ be, and the last item _should_ be, an every-day vocation for _somebody_; and the manner of inside finish to a house has a great deal to do with all these labors. In a stone, or brick house, the inside walls should be firred off for plastering. This may be done either by "plugging," that is, driving a plug of wood strongly into the mortar courses, into which the firring should be nailed, or by laying a strip of thin board in the mortar course, the entire length of each wall. This is better than _blocks_ laid in for such purpose, because it is effectually _bound_ by the stone, or brick work; whereas, a block may get loose by shrinking, but the nails which hold the firring to the plug, or to the thin strip of board will split and _wedge_ it closer to the mason work of the outside wall. This is an important item. It makes close work too, and leaves no room for rats, mice, or other vermin; and as it admits a _space_--no matter how thin--so that no outside damp from the walls can communicate into, or through the inner plastering, it answers all purposes. The inside, and partition walls should be of coarse, strong mortar, _floated off_ as smoothly as may be, not a _hard finish_, which is fine, and costly; and then papered throughout for the better rooms, and the commonly-used rooms whitewashed. Paper gives a most comfortable look to the rooms, more so than paint, and much less expensive, while nothing is so sweet, tidy, and cheerful to the _working_ rooms of the house as a _lime_ wash, either white, or softened down with some agreeable tint, such as _light_ blue, green, drab, fawn, or russet, to give the shade desired, and for which every _professional_ painter and whitewasher in the vicinity, can furnish a proper recipe applicable to the place and climate. On such subjects we choose to prescribe, rather than to play the apothecary by giving any of the thousand and one recipes extant, for the composition. Our remarks upon the strength and durability of _material_ in house-building do not apply exclusively to brick and stone. Wood is included also; and of this, there is much difference in the kind. Sound _white_ oak, is, perhaps the best material for the heavy frame-work of any house or out-building, and when to be had at a moderate expense, we would recommend it in preference to any other. If _white_ oak cannot be had, the other varieties of oak, or chesnut are the next best. In _light_ frame-timbers, such as studs, girts, joists, or rafters, oak is inclined to spring and warp, and we would prefer hemlock, or chesnut, which holds a nail equally as well, or, in its absence, pine, (which holds a nail badly,) whitewood, or black walnut. The outside finish to a wooden house, may be _lighter_ than in one of stone or brick. The wood work on the outside of the latter should always be heavy, and in character with the walls, giving an air of firmness and stability to the whole structure. No elaborate carving, or beadwork should be permitted on the outside work of a country house at all; and only a sufficient quantity of ornamental _tracery_ of any kind, to break the monotony of a plainness that would otherwise give it a formal, or uncouth expression, and relieve it of what some would consider a pasteboard look. A farm house, in fact, of any degree, either cheap or expensive, should wear the same appearance as a well-dressed person of either sex; so that a stranger, not looking at them for the purpose of inspecting their garb, should, after an interview, be unable to tell what particular sort of dress they wore, so perfectly in keeping was it with propriety. In the design now under discussion, a cellar is made under the whole body of the house; and this cellar is a _shallow_ one, so far as being sunk into the ground is concerned, say 5½ feet, leaving 2½ feet of cellar wall above ground--8 feet in all. A part of the wall above ground should be covered by the excavated earth, and sloped off to a level with the surrounding surface. A commodious, well-lighted, and well-ventilated cellar is one of the most important apartments of the farm house. It should, if the soil be compact, be well drained from some point or corner within the walls into a lower level outside, to which point within, the whole floor surface should incline, and the bottom be floored with water-lime cement. This will make it hard, durable, and dry. It may then be washed and scrubbed off as easily as an upper floor. If the building site be high, and in a gravelly, or sandy soil, neither drain nor flooring will be required. The cellar may be used for the storage of root crops, apples, meats, and household vegetables. A partitioned room will accommodate either a summer or a winter dairy, if not otherwise provided, and a multitude of conveniences may be made of it in all well arranged farmeries. But in all cases the cellar should be well lighted, ventilated, and dry. Even the ash-house and smoke-house may be made in it with perfect convenience, by brick or stone partitions, and the smoke-house flue be carried up into one of the chimney flues above, and thus make a more snug and compact arrangement than to have separate buildings for those objects. A wash-room, in which, also, the soap may be made, the tallow and lard tried up, and other extraordinary labor when fire heat is to be used, may properly be made in a cellar, particularly when on a sloping ground, and easy of access to the ground level on one side. But, as a general rule, such room is better on a level with the main floor of the dwelling, and there are usually sufficient occupations for the cellar without them. All cellar walls should be at least 18 inches thick, for even a wooden house, and from that to 2 feet for a stone or brick one, and well laid in strong lime-mortar. Unmortared cellar walls are frequently laid under wooden buildings, and _pointed_ with lime-mortar inside; but this is sometimes dug out by rats, and is apt to crumble and fall out otherwise. A _complete_ cellar wall should be thoroughly laid in mortar. [Illustration: FARM HOUSE. Pages 101-102.] DESIGN III. We here present the reader with a substantial, plain, yet highly-respectable stone or brick farm house, of the second class, suitable for an estate of three, to five hundred acres, and accommodation for a family of a dozen or more persons. The style is mixed rural Gothic, Italian, and bracketed; yet in keeping with the character of the farm, and the farmer's standing and occupation. The main body of this house is 42�24 feet on the ground, and one and three quarter stories high--the chambers running two or three feet into the roof, as choice or convenience may direct. The roof has a pitch of 30 to 40° from a horizontal line, and broadly spread over the walls, say two and a half feet, showing the ends of the rafters, bracket fashion. The chimneys pass out through the peak of the roof, where the hips of what would otherwise be the gables, connect with the long sides of the roof covering the front and rear. On the long front is partly seen, in the perspective, a portico, 16�10 feet--not the _chief_ entrance front, but rather a side front, practically, which leads into a lawn or garden, as may be most desirable, and from which the best view from the house is commanded. Over this porch is a small gable running into the roof, to break its monotony, in which is a door-window leading from the upper hall on to the deck of the porch. This gable has the same finish as the main roof, by brackets. The chamber windows are two-thirds or three-quarters the size of the lower ones; thus showing the upper story not full height below the plates, but running two to four feet into the garret. The rear wing, containing the entrance or business front, is 24�32 feet, one and a half stories high, with a pitch of roof not less than 35°, and spread over the walls both at the eaves and gable, in the same proportion as the roof to the main body. In front of this is a porch or veranda eight feet wide, with a low, hipped roof. In the front and rear roofs of this wing is a dormer window, to light the chambers. The gable to this wing is bold, and gives it character by the breadth of its roof over the walls, and the strong brackets by which it is supported. The chimney is thrown up strong and boldly at the point of the roof, indicating the every-day uses of the fireplaces below, which, although distinct and wide apart in their location on the ground floors, are drawn together in the chambers, thus showing only one escape through the roof. The wood-house in the rear of the wing has a roof of the same character, and connects with the long building in the rear, which has the same description of roof, but hipped at one end. That end over the workshop, and next the wood-house, shows a bold gable like the wing of the house, and affords room and light to the lumber room over the shop, and also gives variety and relief to the otherwise too great sameness of roof-appearance on the further side of the establishment. [Illustration: GROUND PLAN. CHAMBER PLAN.] INTERIOR ARRANGEMENT. As has been remarked, the main entrance front to this house is from the wing veranda, from which a well finished and sizeable door leads into the principal hall, 24�8 feet in area, and lighted by a full-sized window at the front end. Opposite the entrance door is the door leading into the parlor; and farther along is the staircase, under the upper landing of which a door leads into a dining or sitting-room, as may be determined. This hall is 10 feet high, as are all the rooms of this lower main story. In the chimney, which adjoins the parlor side of this hall, may be inserted a thimble for a hall stovepipe, if this method of warming should be adopted. The parlor, into which a door leads from the hall, is 18�16 feet, with two windows on the side, shown in perspective, and one on the front facing the lawn, or garden. It has also a fireplace near the hall door. At the further angle is a door leading to an entry or passage on to the portico. E is the entry just mentioned, six feet square, and lighted by a short sash, one light deep, over the outside door. This portico may be made a pleasant summer afternoon and evening resort for the family, by which the occupied rooms connect with the lawn or garden, thus adding to its retired and private character. Opposite the parlor, on the other side of this entry, a door leads into a room 18�12 feet, which may be occupied as a family bedroom, library, or small sitting-room. This is lighted by two windows, and has a closet of 6�5 feet. A fireplace is on the inner side of this room; and near to that, a door connects with a dining-room of the same size, having a window in one end, and a fireplace, and closet of the same size as the last. Through the rear wall is a door leading into a pantry, which also communicates with the kitchen; and another door leads to the hall, and from the hall, under the staircases, (which, at that point, are sufficiently high for the purpose,) is a passage leading to the kitchen. Under the wing veranda, near the point of intersection of the wing with the main body of the house, is an _every-day_ outer door, leading into a small entry, 6�5 feet, and lighted by a low, one-sash window over the door. By another door, this leads to the kitchen, or family room, which is lighted by three windows. An ample fireplace, with oven, &c., accommodates this room at the end. A closet, 7�5 feet, also stands next to the entry; and beyond that, an open passage, to the left, leading out under the front hall stairs to the rooms of the main building. A door also leads from that passage into a _best_ pantry, for choice crockery, sweetmeats, and tea-table comforts. Another door, near the last, leads into a dairy or milk-room, 9�8 feet, beyond the passage; in which last, also, may be placed a tier of narrow shelves. This milk, or dairy-room, is lighted by a window in the end, and connects also, by a door in the side, with the _outer_ kitchen, or wash-room. Next to this milk-room door, in the front kitchen, is another door leading down cellar; and through this door, passing by the upper, broad stair of the flight of cellar steps, is another door into the wash-room. At the farther angle of the kitchen is still another door, opening into a passage four feet wide; and, in that passage, a door leading up a flight of stairs into the wing chambers. This passage opens into the back kitchen, or wash-room, 16�16 feet in area, and lighted by two windows, one of which looks into the wood-house. In this wash-room is a chimney with boilers and fireplace, as may be required. The cellar and chamber stairs, and the milk-room are also accessible direct, by doors leading from this wash-room. The chamber plan will be readily understood, and requires no particular description. The space over the wing may be partitioned off according to the plan, or left more open for the accommodation of the "work folks," as occasion may demand. But, as this dwelling is intended for substantial people, "well to do in the world," and who extend a generous hospitality to their friends, a liberal provision of sleeping chambers is given to the main body of the house. The parlor chamber, which is the best, or _spare_ one, is 18�16 feet, with roomy side-closets. Besides this, are other rooms for the daughters Sally, and Nancy, and Fanny, and possibly Mary and Elizabeth--who want their own chambers, which they keep so clean and tidy, with closets full of nice bedclothes, table linen, towels, &c., &c., for certain events not yet whispered of, but quite sure to come round. And then there are Frederick, and Robert, and George, fine stalwart boys coming into manhood, intending to be "somebody in the world," one day or another; they must have _their_ rooms--and good ones too; for, if any people are to be well lodged, why not those who toil for it? All such accommodation every farm house of this character should afford. And we need not go far, or look sharp, to see the best men and the best women in our state and nation graduating from the wholesome farm house thus tidily and amply provided. How delightfully look the far-off mountains, or the nearer plains, or prairies, from the lawn porch of this snug farm house! The distant lake; the shining river, singing away through the valley; or the wimpling brook, stealing through the meadow! Aye, enjoy them all, for they are God's best, richest gifts, and we are made to love them. The wood-house strikes off from the back kitchen, retreating two feet from its gable wall, and is 36�14 feet in size. A bathing room may be partitioned off 8�6 feet, on the rear corner next the wash-room, if required, although not laid down in the plan. At the further end is the water-closet, 6�4 feet. Or, if the size and convenience of the family require it, a part of the wood-house may be partitioned off for a wash-room, from which a chimney may pass up through the peak of the roof. If so, carry it up so high that it will be above the eddy that the wind may make in passing over the adjoining wing, not causing it to smoke from that cause. At the far end of the wood-house is the workshop and tool-house, 18�16 feet, lighted by two windows, and a door to enter it from beneath the wood-house. Over this, is the lumber and store-room. Next to this is the swill-room and pigsty for the house pigs, as described in the last design; and over it a loft for farm seeds, small grains, and any other storage required. Adjoining this is the wagon and carriage-house; and above, the hayloft, stretching, also, partly over the stable which stands next, with two stalls, 12�5 feet each, with a flight of stairs leading to the loft, in the passage next the door. In this loft are swinging windows, to let in hay for the horses. This completes the household establishment, and we leave the surroundings to the correct judgment and good taste of the proprietor to complete, as its position, and the variety of objects with which it may be connected, requires. Stone and brick we have mentioned as the proper materials for this house; but it may be also built of wood, if more within the means and limits of the builder. There should be no pinching in its proportions, but every part carried out in its full breadth and effect. The cost of the whole establishment may be from $2,000, to $3,000; depending somewhat upon the material used, and the finish put upon it. The first-named sum would build the whole in an economical and plain manner, while the latter would complete it amply in its details. MISCELLANEOUS. It may be an objection in the minds of some persons to the various plans here submitted, that we have connected the out-buildings _immediately_ with the offices of the dwelling itself. We are well aware that such is not always usual; but many years observation have convinced us, that in their use and occupation, such connection is altogether the most convenient and economical. The only drawback is in the case of fire; which, if it occur in any one building, the whole establishment is liable to be consumed. This objection is conceded; but we take it, that it is the business of every one not able to be his own insurer, to have his buildings insured by others; and the additional cost of this insurance is not a tithe of what the extra expense of time, labor, and exposure is caused to the family by having the out-buildings disconnected, and at a _fire-proof_ distance from each other. There has, too, in the separation of these out-buildings, (we do not now speak of barns, and houses for the stock, and the farmwork proper,) from the main dwelling, crept into the construction of such dwellings, by modern builders, _some_ things, which in a country establishment, particularly, ought never to be there, such as privies, or _water-closets_, as they are more _genteelly_ called. These last, in our estimation, have no business _in_ a _farmer's_ house. They are an _effeminacy_, only, and introduced by _city_ life. An _appendage_ they should be, but separated to some distance from the living rooms, and accessible by sheltered passages to them. The wood-house should adjoin the outer kitchen, because the fuel should always be handy, and the outer kitchen, or wash-room is a sort of _slop_-room, of necessity; and the night wood, and that for the morning fires may be deposited in it for immediate use. The workshop, and small tool-house naturally comes next to that, as being chiefly used in stormy weather. Next to this last, would, more conveniently, come the carriage or wagon-house, and of course a stable for a horse or two for family use, always accessible at night, and convenient at unseasonable hours for farm labor. In the same close neighborhood, also, should be a small pigsty, to accommodate a pig or two, to eat up the kitchen slops from the table, refuse vegetables, parings, dishwater, &c., &c., which could not well be carried to the main piggery of the farm, unless the old-fashioned filthy mode of letting the hogs run in the road, and a trough set outside the door-yard fence, as seen in some parts of the country, were adopted. A pig can always be kept, and fatted in three or four months, from the wash of the house, with a little grain, in any well-regulated farmer's family. A few fowls may also be kept in a convenient hen-house, if desired, without offence--all constituting a part of the _household_ economy of the place. These out-buildings too, give a comfortable, domestic look to the whole concern. Each one shelters and protects the other, and gives an air of comfort and repose to the whole--a family expression all round. What so naked and chilling to the feelings, as to see a country dwelling-house all perked up, by itself, standing, literally, out of doors, without any dependencies about it? No, no. First should stand the house, the chief structure, in the foreground; appendant to that, the kitchen wing; next in grade, the wood-house; covering in, also, the minor offices of the house. Then by way of setting up, partially on their own account, should come the workshop, carriage-house, and stable, as practically having a separate character, but still subordinate to the house and its requirements; and these too, may have their piggery and hen-house, by way of tapering off to the adjoining fence, which encloses a kitchen garden, or family orchard. Thus, each structure is appropriate in its way--and together, they form a combination grateful to the sight, as a complete rural picture. All objections, on account of filth or vermin, to this connection, may be removed by a cleanly keeping of the premises--a removal of all offal immediately as it is made, and daily or weekly taking it on to the manure heaps of the barns, or depositing it at once on the grounds where it is required. In point of health, nothing is more congenial to sound physical condition than the occasional smell of a stable, or the breath of a cow, not within the immediate contiguity to the occupied rooms of the dwelling. On the score of neatness, therefore, as we have placed them, no bar can be raised to their adoption. DESIGN IV. This is perhaps a more ambitious house than either of the preceding, although it may be adapted to a domain of the same extent and value. It is plain and unpretending in appearance; yet, in its ample finish, and deeply drawn, sheltering eaves, broad veranda, and spacious out-buildings, may give accommodation to a larger family indulging a more liberal style of living than the last. By an error in the engraving, the main roof of the house is made to appear like a double, or gambrel-roof, breaking at the intersection of the gable, or hanging roof over the ends. This is not so intended. The roofs on each side are a straight line of rafters. The Swiss, or hanging style of gable-roof is designed to give a more sheltered effect to the elevation than to run the end walls to a peak in the point of the roof. By a defect in the drawing, the roof of the veranda is not sufficiently thrown over the columns. This roof should project at least one foot beyond them, so as to perfectly shelter the mouldings beneath from the weather, and conform to the style of the main roof of the house. [Illustration: FARM HOUSE. Pages 115-116.] The material of which it is built may be of either stone, brick, or wood, as the taste or convenience of the proprietor may suggest. The main building is 44�36 feet, on the ground. The cellar wall may show 18 to 24 inches above the ground, and be pierced by windows in each end, as shown in the plan. The height of the main walls may be two full stories below the roof plates, or the chambers may run a foot or two into the garret, at the choice of the builder, either of which arrangements may be permitted. The front door opens from a veranda 28 feet long by 10 feet in depth, dropping eight inches from the door-sill. This veranda has a hipped roof, which juts over the columns in due proportion with the roof of the house over its walls. These columns are plain, with brackets, or braces from near their tops, sustaining the plate and finish of the roof above, which may be covered either with tin or zinc, painted, or closely shingled. The walls of the house may be 18 to 20 feet high below the plates; the roof a pitch of 30 to 45°, which will afford an upper garret, or store, or small sleeping rooms, if required; and the eaves should project two to three feet, as climate may demand, over the walls. A plain finish--that is, ceiled underneath--is shown in the design, but brackets on the ends of the rafters, beaded and finished, may be shown, if preferred. The gables are _Swiss-roofed_, or _truncated_, thus giving them a most sheltered and comfortable appearance, particularly in a northerly climate. The small gable in front relieves the roof of its monotony, and affords light to the central garret. The chimneys are carried out with partition flues, and may be topped with square caps, as necessity or taste may demand. Retreating three feet from the kitchen side of the house runs, at right angles, a wing 30�18 feet, one and a half stories high, with a veranda eight feet wide in front. Next in rear of this, continues a wood-house, 30�18 feet, one story high, with ten feet posts, and open in front, the ground level of which is 18 inches below the floor of the wing to which it is attached. The roof of these two is of like character with that of the main building. Adjoining this wood-house, and at right angles with it, is a building 68�18 feet, projecting two feet outside the line of wood-house and kitchen. This building is one and a half stories high, with 12 feet posts, and roof in the same style and of equal pitch as the others. [Illustration: GROUND PLAN.] INTERIOR ARRANGEMENT. The front door from the veranda of the house opens into a hall, 18�8 feet, and 11 feet high, amply lighted by sash windows on the sides, and over the door. From the rear of this hall runs a flight of easy stairs, into the upper or chamber hall. On one side of the lower hall, a door leads into a parlor, 18 feet square, and 11 feet high, lighted by three windows, and warmed by an open stove, or fireplace, the pipe passing into a chimney flue in the rear. A door passes from this parlor into a rear passage, or entry, thus giving it access to the kitchen and rear apartments. At the back end of the front hall, a door leads into the rear passage and kitchen; and on the side opposite the parlor, a door opens into the sitting or family room, 18�16 feet in area, having an open fireplace, and three windows. On the hall side of this room, a door passes into the kitchen, 22�16 feet, and which may, in case the requirements of the family demand it, be made the chief family or living room, and the last one described converted into a library. In this kitchen, which is lighted by two windows, is a liberal open fireplace, with an ample oven by its side, and a sink in the outer corner. A flight of stairs, also, leads to the rear chambers above; and a corresponding flight, under them, to the cellar below. A door at each end of these stairs, leads into the back entry of the house, and thus to the other interior rooms, or through the rear outer door to the back porch. This back entry is lighted by a single sash window over the outside door leading to the porch. Another door, opposite that leading down cellar, opens into the passage through the wing. From the rear hall, which is 16�5 feet, the innermost passage leads into a family bedroom, or nursery, 16�14 feet, lighted by a window in each outside wall, and warmed by an open fireplace, or stove, at pleasure. Attached to this bedroom is a clothes-closet, 8�4 feet, with shelves, and drawers. Next the outer door, in rear end of the hall, is a small closet opening from it, 6�4 feet in dimensions, convertible to any use which the mistress of the house may direct. [Illustration: CHAMBER PLAN.] Opening into the wing from the kitchen, first, is a large closet and pantry, supplied with a table, drawers, and shelves, in which are stored the dishes, table furniture, and edibles necessary to be kept at a moment's access. This room is 14�8 feet, and well lighted by a window of convenient size. If necessary, this room may have a partition, shutting off a part from the everyday uses which the family requires. In this room, so near to the kitchen, to the sink, to hot-water, and the other little domestic accessories which good housewives know so well how to arrange and appreciate, all the nice little table-comforts can be got up, and perfected, and stored away, under lock and key, in drawer, tub, or jar, at their discretion, and still their eyes not be away from their subordinates in the other departments. Next to this, and connected by a door, is the dairy, or milk-room, also 14�8 feet; which, if necessary, may be sunk three or four feet into the ground, for additional coolness in the summer season, and the floor reached by steps. In this are ample shelves for the milkpans, conveniences of churning, &c., &c. But, if the dairy be a prominent object of the farm, a separate establishment will be required, and the excavation may not be necessary for ordinary household uses. Out of this milk-room, a door leads into a wash-room, 18�14 feet. A passage from the kitchen also leads into this. The wash-room is lighted by two windows in rear, and one in front. A sink is between the two rear windows, with conductor leading outside, and a closet beneath it, for the iron ware. In the chimney, at the end, are boilers, and a fireplace, an oven, or anything else required, and a door leading to a platform in the wood-house, and so into the yard. On the other side of the chimney, a door leads into a bathing-room, 7�6 feet, into which hot water is drawn from one of the boilers adjoining, and cold water may be introduced, by a hand-pump, through a pipe leading into the well or cistern. As no more convenient opportunity may present itself, a word or two will be suggested as to the location of the bath-room in a country house. In city houses, or country houses designed for the summer occupancy of city dwellers, the bathing-rooms are usually placed in the second or chamber story, and the water for their supply is drawn from cisterns still above _them_. This arrangement, in city houses, is made chiefly from the want of room on the ground floor; and, also, thus arranged in the city-country houses, _because_ they are so constructed in the city. In the farm house, or in the country house proper, occupied by whom it may be, such arrangement is unnecessary, expensive, and inconvenient. Unnecessary, because there is no want of room on the ground; expensive, because an upper cistern is always liable to leakages, and a consequent wastage of water, wetting, and rotting out the floors, and all the slopping and dripping which such accidents occasion; and inconvenient, from the continual up-and-down-stair labor of those who occupy the bath, to say nothing of the piercing the walls of the house, for the admission of pipes to lead in and let out the water, and the thousand-and-one vexations, by way of plumbers' bills, and expense of getting to and from the house itself, always a distance of some miles from the mechanic. The only defence for such location of the bath-room and cisterns is, the convenience and privacy of access to them, by the females of the family. This counts but little, if anything, over the place appropriated in this, and the succeeding designs of this work. The access is almost, if not quite as private as the other, and, in case of ill-health, as easily approachable to invalids. And on the score of economy in construction, repair, or accident, the plan here adopted is altogether preferable. In this plan, the water is drawn from the boiler by the turning of a cock; that from the cistern, by a minute's labor with the hand-pump. It is let off by the drawing of a plug, and discharges, by a short pipe, into the adjoining garden, or grassplat, to moisten and invigorate the trees and plants which require it, and the whole affair is clean and sweet again. A screen for the window gives all the privacy required, and the most fastidious, shrinking female is as retired as in the shadiest nook of her dressing-room. So with water-closets. A fashion prevails of thrusting these noisome things into the midst of sleeping chambers and living rooms--pandering to effeminacy, and, at times, surcharging the house--for they cannot, at _all_ times, and under _all_ circumstances, be kept perfectly close--with their offensive odor. _Out_ of the house they belong; and if they, by any means, find their way within its walls proper, the fault will not be laid at our door. To get back to our description. This bathing-room occupies a corner of the wood-house. A raised platform passes from the wash-room in, past the bath-room, to a water-closet, which may be divided into two apartments, if desirable. The vaults are accessible from the rear, for cleaning out, or introducing lime, gypsum, powdered charcoal, or other deodorizing material. At the extreme corner of the wood-house, a door opens into a feed and swill-room, 20�8 feet, which is reached by steps, and stands quite eighteen inches above the ground level, on a stone under-pinning, or with a stone cellar beneath, for the storage of roots in winter. In one corner of this is a boiler and chimney, for cooking food for the pigs and chickens. A door leads from this room into the piggery, 20�12 feet, where half-a-dozen swine may be kept. A door leads from this pen into a yard, in the rear, where they will be less offensive than if confined within. If necessary, a flight of steps, leading to the loft overhead, may be built, where corn can be stored for their feeding. Next to this is the workshop and tool-house, 18�14 feet; and, in rear, a snug, warm house for the family chickens, 18�6 feet. These chickens may also have the run of the yard in rear, with the pigs, and apartments in the loft overhead for roosting. Adjoining the workshop is the carriage house, 18�18 feet, with a flight of stairs to the hayloft above, in which is, also, a dovecote; and, leading out of the carriage floor, is the stable, 18�12 feet, with stalls for two or four horses, and a passage of four feet wide, from the carriage-house into it; thus completing, and drawing under one continuous roof, and at less exposure than if separated, the chief every-day requirements of living, to a well-arranged and highly-respectable family. The chamber plan of the dwelling will be readily understood by reference to its arrangement. There are a sufficiency of closets for all purposes, and the whole are accessible from either flight of stairs. The rooms over the wing, of course, should be devoted to the male domestics of the family, work-people, &c. SURROUNDING PLANTATIONS, SHRUBBERY, WALKS, ETC. After the general remarks made in the preceding pages, no _particular_ instructions can be given for the manner in which this residence should be embellished in its trees and shrubbery. The large forest trees, always grand, graceful, and appropriate, would become such a house, throwing a protecting air around and over its quiet, unpretending roof. Vines, or climbing roses, might throw their delicate spray around the columns of the modest veranda, and a varied selection of familiar shrubbery and ornamental plants checker the immediate front and sides of the house looking out upon the lawn; through which a spacious walk, or carriage-way should wind, from the high road, or chief approach. There are, however, so many objects to be consulted in the various sites of houses, that no one rule can be laid down for individual guidance. The surface of the ground immediately adjoining the house must be considered; the position of the house, as it is viewed from surrounding objects; its altitude, or depression, as affected by the adjacent lands; its command upon surrounding near, or distant objects, in the way of prospect; the presence of water, either in stream, pond, or lake, far or near, or the absence of water altogether--all these enter immediately into the manner in which the lawn of a house should be laid out, and worked, and planted. But as a rule, all _filagree_ work, such as serpentine paths, and tortuous, unmeaning circles, artificial piles of rock, and a multitude of small _ornaments_--so esteemed, by some--should never be introduced into the lawn of a _farm_ house. It is unmeaning, in the first place; expensive in its care, in the second place; unsatisfactory and annoying altogether. Such things about a farm establishment are neither dignified nor useful, and should be left to town's-people, having but a stinted appreciation of what constitutes _natural_ beauty, and wanting to make the most of the limited piece of ground of which they are possessed. Nor would we shut out, by these remarks, the beauty and odor of the flower-borders, which are so appropriately the care of the good matron of the household and her comely daughters. To them may be devoted a well-dug plat beneath the windows, or in the garden. Enough, and to spare, they should always have, of such cheerful, life-giving pleasures. We only object to their being strewed all over the ground,--a tussoc of plant here, a patch of posey there, and a scattering of both everywhere, without either system or meaning. They lower the dignity and simplicity of the country dwelling altogether. The business approach to this house is, of course, toward the stables and carriage-house, and from them should lead off the main farm-avenue. The kitchen garden, if possible, should lie on the kitchen side of the house, where, also, should be placed the bee-house, in full sight from the windows, that their labors and swarming may be watched. In fact, the entire economy of the farm house, and its appendages, should be brought close under the eye of the household, to engage their care and watchfulness, and to interest them in all the little associations and endearments--and they are many, when properly studied out--which go to make agricultural life one of the most agreeable pursuits, if not altogether so, in which our lot in life may be cast. A fruit-garden, too, should be a prominent object near this house. We are now advancing somewhat into the _elegances_ of agricultural life; and although fruit trees, and _good_ fruits too, should hold a strong place in the surroundings of even the humblest of all country places--sufficient, at least, for the ample use of the family--they have not yet been noticed, to any extent, in those already described. It may be remarked, that the fruit-_garden_--the _orchard_, for market purposes, is not here intended--should be placed in near proximity to the house. All the _small_ fruits, for household use, such as strawberries, raspberries, currants, gooseberries, blackberries, grapes, as well as apricots, plums, nectarines, peaches, pears, apples, quinces, or whatever fruits may be cultivated, in different localities, should be close by, for the convenience of collecting them, and to protect them from destruction by vermin, birds, or the depredations of creatures _called_ human. A decided plan of arrangement for all the plantations and grounds, should enter into the composition of the site for the dwelling, out-houses, gardens, &c., as they are to appear when the whole establishment is completed; and nothing left to accident, chance, or after-thought, which can be disposed of at the commencement. By the adoption of such a course, the entire composition is more easily perfected, and with infinitely greater expression of character, than if left to the chance designs, or accidental demands of the future. Another feature should be strictly enforced, in the outward appointments of the farm house,--and that is, the entire withdrawal of any use of the highway, in its occupation by the stock of the farm, except in leading them to and from its enclosures. Nothing looks more slovenly, and nothing can be more unthrifty, in an _enclosed_ country, than the running of farm stock in the highway. What so untidy as the approach to a house, with a herd of filthy hogs rooting about the fences, basking along the sidewalk, or feeding at a huge, uncouth, hollowed log, in the road near the dwelling. It may be out of place here to speak of it, but this disgusting spectacle has so often offended our sight, at the approach of an otherwise pleasant farm establishment, that we cannot forego the opportunity to speak of it. The road lying in front, or between the different sections of the farm, should be as well, and as cleanly kept as any portion of the enclosures, and it is equally a sin against good taste and neighborhood-morality, to have it otherwise. TREE-PLANTING IN THE HIGHWAY. This is frequently recommended by writers on country embellishment, as indispensable to a finished decoration of the farm. Such may, or may not be the fact. Trees shade the roads, when planted on their sides, and so they partially do the fields adjoining, making the first muddy, in bad weather, by preventing the sun drying them, and shading the crops of the last by their overhanging foliage, in the season of their growth. Thus they are an evil, in moist and heavy soils. Yet, in light soils, their shade is grateful to the highway traveler, and not, perhaps, injurious to the crops of the adjoining field; and when of proper kinds, they add grace and beauty to the domain in which they stand. We do not, therefore, indiscriminately recommend them, but leave it to the discretion of the farmer, to decide for himself, having seen estates equally pleasant with, and without trees on the roadside. Nothing, however, can be more beautiful than a clump of trees in a pasture-ground, with a herd, or a flock beneath them, near the road; or the grand and overshadowing branches of stately tree, in a rich meadow, leaning, perhaps, over the highway fence, or flourishing in its solitary grandeur, in the distance--each, and all, imposing features in the rural landscape. All such should be preserved, with the greatest care and solicitude, as among the highest and most attractive ornaments which the farm can boast. [Illustration: FARM HOUSE. Pages 131-132.] DESIGN V. We here present a dwelling of a more ambitious and pretending character than any one which we have, as yet, described, and calculated for a large and wealthy farmer, who indulges in the elegances of country life, dispenses a liberal hospitality, and is every way a country gentleman, such as all our farmers of ample means should be. It will answer the demands of the retired man of business as well; and is, perhaps, as full in its various accommodation as an American farm or country house may require. It claims no distinct style of architecture, but is a composition agreeable in effect, and appropriate to almost any part of the country, and its climate. Its site may be on either hill or plain--with a view extensive, or restricted. It may look out over broad savannas, cultivated fields, and shining waters; it may nestle amid its own quiet woods and lawn in its own selected shade and retirement, or lord it over an extensive park, ranged by herds and flocks, meandered by its own stream, spreading anon into the placid lake, or rushing swiftly over its own narrow bed--an independent, substantial, convenient, and well-conditioned home, standing upon its own broad acres, and comporting with the character and standing of its occupant, among his friends and neighbors. The main building is 50�40 feet in area upon the ground, two stories high; the ground story 11 feet high, its floor elevated 2½ or 3 feet above the level of the surrounding surface, as its position may demand; the chambers 9 feet high, and running 2 feet into the roof. The rear wing is one and a half stories high, 36�16 feet; the lower rooms 11 feet high, with a one story lean-to range of closets, and small rooms on the weather side, 8 feet in width and 9 feet high. In the rear of these is a wood-house, 30�20 feet, with 10 feet posts, dropped to a level with the ground. At the extremity of this is a building, by way of an L, 60�20 feet, one and a half stories high, with a lean-to, 12�30 feet, in the rear. The ground rooms of this are elevated 1½ feet above the ground, and 9 feet high. A broad roof covers the whole, standing at an angle of 40 or 45° above a horizontal line, and projecting widely over the walls, 2½ to 3 feet on the main building, and 2 feet on the others, to shelter them perfectly from the storms and damps of the weather. A small cupola stands out of the ridge of the rear building, which may serve as a ventilator to the apartments and lofts below, and in it may be hung a bell, to summon the household, or the field laborers, as the case may be, to their duties or their meals. The design, as here shown, is rather florid, and perhaps profusely ornamental in its finish, as comporting with the taste of the day; but the cut and moulded trimmings may be left off by those who prefer a plain finish, and be no detriment to the general effect which the deep friezes of the roofs, properly cased beneath, may give to it. Such, indeed, is our own taste; but this full finish has been added, to gratify such as wish the full ornament which this style of building may admit. [Illustration: GROUND PLAN.] INTERIOR ARRANGEMENT. The front of this house is accommodated by a porch, or veranda, 40 feet long, and 10 feet wide, with a central, or entrance projection of 18 feet in length, and 12 feet in width, the floor of which is eight inches below the main floor of the house. The wings, or sides of this veranda may be so fitted up as to allow a pleasant conservatory on each side of the entrance area in winter, by enclosing them with glass windows, and the introduction of heat from a furnace under the main hall, in the cellar of the house. This would add to its general effect in winter, and, if continued through the summer, would not detract from its expression of dignity and refinement. From the veranda, a door in the center of the front, with two side windows, leads into the main hall, which is 26�12 feet in area, two feet in the width of which is taken from the rooms on the right of the main entrance. On the left of the hall a door opens into a parlor or drawing-room, marked P, 20 feet square, with a bay window on one side, containing three sashes, and seats beneath. A single window lights the front opening on to the veranda. On the opposite side to this is the fireplace, with blank walls on each side. On the opposite side of the hall is a library, 18�16 feet, with an end window, and a corresponding one to the parlor, in front, looking out on the veranda. In case these portions of the veranda, opposite the two front windows are occupied as conservatories, these windows should open to the floor, to admit a walk immediately into them. At the farther corner of the library a narrow door leads into an office, or business apartment, 12�8 feet, and opening by a broad door, the upper half of which is a lighted sash. This door leads from the office out on a small porch, with a floor and two columns, 8�5 feet, and nine feet high, with a gable and double roof of the same pitch as the house. Between the chimney flues, in the rear of this room may be placed an iron safe, or chest for the deposit of valuable papers; and, although small, a table and chairs sufficient to accommodate the business requirements of the occupant, may be kept in it. A chimney stands in the center of the inner wall of the library, in which may be a fireplace, or a flue to receive a stovepipe, whichever may be preferred for warming the room. Near the hall side of the library a door opens into a passage leading into the family bedroom, or nursery. A portion of this passage may be shelved and fitted up as a closet for any convenient purpose. The nursery is 18�16 feet in size, lighted by two windows. It may have an open fireplace, or a stove, as preferred, let into the chimney, corresponding to that in the library. These two chimneys may either be drawn together in the chambers immediately above, or carried up separately into the garret, and pass out of the roof in one stack, or they maybe built in one solid mass from the cellar bottom; but they are so placed here, as saving room on the floors, and equally accommodating, in their separate divisions, the stovepipes that may lead into them. On the inner side of the nursery, a door leads into a large closet, or child's sleeping-room, 9�8 feet; or it may be used as a dressing-room, with a sash inserted in the door to light it. A door may also lead from it into the small rear entry of the house, and thus pass directly out, without communicating with the nursery. On the extreme left corner of the nursery is a door leading into the back entry, by which it communicates either with the rear porch, the dining-room, or the kitchen. Such a room we consider indispensable to the proper accommodation of a house in the country, as saving a world of up-and-down-stairs' labor to her who is usually charged with the domestic cares and supervision of the family. On the right of the main hall an ample staircase leads into the upper hall by a landing and broad stair at eight feet above the floor, and a right-angled flight from that to the main floor above. Under this main hall staircase, a door and stairs may lead into the cellar. Beyond the turning flight below, a door leads into the back hall, or entry, already mentioned, which is 13�4 feet in area, which also has a side passage of 8�4 feet, and a door leading to the rear porch, and another into the kitchen at its farther side, near the outer one. Opposite the turning flight of stairs, in the main hall, is also a door leading to the dining-room, 20�16 feet. This is lighted by a large double window at the end. A fireplace, or stove flue is in the center wall, and on each side a closet for plate, or table furniture. These closets come out flush with the chimney. At the extreme right corner a door leads into the rear entry--or this may be omitted, at pleasure. Another door in the rear wall leads into the kitchen, past the passage down into the cellar--or this may be omitted, if thought best. Still another door to the left, opens into a large dining closet of the back lean-to apartments, 8�8 feet. This closet is lighted by a window of proper architectural size, and fitted up with a suite of drawers, shelves, table, and cupboards, required for the preparation and deposit of the lighter family stores and edibles. From this closet is also a door leading into the kitchen, through which may be passed all the meats and cookery for the table, either for safe-keeping, or immediate service. Here the thrifty and careful housekeeper and her assistants may, shut apart, and by themselves, get up, fabricate, and arrange all their table delicacies with the greatest convenience and privacy, together with ease of access either to the dining-room or kitchen--an apartment most necessary in a liberally-arranged establishment. From the rear entry opens a door to the kitchen, passing by the _rear_ chamber stairs. This flight of stairs may be entered directly from the kitchen, leading either to the chamber, or under them, into the cellar, without coming into the passage connecting with the entry or dining-room, if preferred. In such case, a broad stair of thirty inches in width should be next the door, on which to turn, as the door would be at right angles with the stairs, either up or down. The kitchen is 20�16 feet, and 11 feet high. It has an outer door leading on the rear porch, and a window on each side of that door; also a window, under which is a sink, on the opposite side, at the end of a passage four feet wide, leading through the lean-to. It has also an open fireplace, and an oven by the side of it--old fashion. It may be also furnished with a cooking range, or stove--the smoke and fumes leading by a pipe into a flue into the chimney. On the lean-to side is a milk or dairy-room, 8�8 feet, lighted by a window. Here also the kitchen furniture and meats may be stored in cupboards made for the purpose. In rear of the kitchen, and leading from it by a door through a lighted passage next the rear porch, is the wash-room, 16�16 feet, lighted by a large window from the porch side. A door also leads out of the rear on to a platform into the wood-house. Another door leads from the wash-room into a bath-room in the lean-to 8�8 feet, into which warm water is drawn by a pipe and pump from the boiler in the wash-room; or, if preferred, the bath-room may be entered from the main kitchen, by the passage next the sink. This bath-room is lighted by a window. Next to the bath-room is a bedroom for a man servant who has charge of the fires, and heavy house-work, wood, &c., &c. This bedroom is also 8�8 feet, and lighted by a window in the lean-to. In front of this wash-room and kitchen is a porch, eight inches below the floor, six feet wide, with a railing, or not, as may be preferred. (The railing is made in the cut.) A platform, three feet wide, leads from the back door of the wash-room to a water-closet for the family _proper_. The wood-house is open in front, with a single post supporting the center of the roof. At the extreme outer angle is a water-closet for the domestics of the establishment. Adjoining the wood-house, and opening from it into the L before mentioned, is a workshop, and small-tool-house, 20�16 feet, lighted by a large double window at one end. In this should be a carpenter's work-bench and tool-chest, for the repairs of the farming utensils and vehicles. Overhead is a store-room for lumber, or whatever else may be necessary for use in that capacity. Next to this is a granary or feed-room, 20�10 feet, with a small chimney in one corner, where may be placed a boiler to cook food for pigs, poultry, &c., as the case may be. Here may also be bins for storage of grain and meal. Leading out of this is a flight of stairs passing to the chamber above, and a passage four feet wide, through the rear, into a yard adjoining. At the further end of the stairs a door opens into a poultry house, 16�10 feet, including the stairs. The poultry room is lighted at the extreme left corner, by a broad window. In this may be made roosts, and nesting places, and feeding troughs. A low door under the window may be also made for the fowls in passing to the rear yard. Adjoining the granary, and leading to it by a door, is the carriage-house, 20�20 feet, at the gable end of which are large doors for entrance. From the carriage-house is a broad passage of six feet, into the stables, which are 12 feet wide, and occupy the lean-to. This lean-to is eight feet high below the eaves, with two double stalls for horses, and a door leading into the _side_ yard, with the doors of the carriage-house. A window also lights the rear of the stables. A piggery 12 feet square occupies the remainder of the lean-to in rear of the poultry-house, in which two or three pigs can always be kept, and fatted on the offal of the house, for _small_ pork, at any season, apart from the swine stock of the farm. A door leads out of the piggery into the rear yard, where range also the poultry. As the _shed_ roof shuts down on to the pigsty and stables, no loft above them is necessary. In the loft over the granary, poultry, and carriage-house is deposited the hay, put in there through the doors which appear in the design. CHAMBER PLAN.--This is easily understood. At the head of the stairs, over the main hall, is a large passage leading to the porch, and opening by a door-window on the middle deck of the veranda, which is nearly level, and tinned, or coppered, water-tight, as are also the two sides. On either side of this upper hall is a door leading to the front sleeping chambers, which are well closeted, and spacious. If it be desirable to construct more sleeping-rooms, they can be partitioned laterally from the hall, and doors made to enter them. A rear hall is cut off from the front, lighted by a window over the lower rear porch, and a door leads into a further passage in the wing, four feet wide, which leads down a flight of stairs into the kitchen below. At the head of this flight is a chamber 20�12 feet, for the female domestic's sleeping-room, in which may be placed a stove, if necessary, passing its pipe into the kitchen chimney which passes through it. [Illustration: CHAMBER PLAN.] It is also lighted by a window over the lean-to, on the side. Back of this, at the end of the passage, is the sleeping-room, 16 feet square, for the "men-folks," lighted on both sides by a window. This may also be warmed, if desired, by a stove, the pipe passing into the kitchen chimney. The cellar may extend under the entire house and wing, as convenience or necessity may require. If it be constructed under the main body only, an offset should be excavated to accommodate the cellar stairs, three feet in width, and walled in with the rest. A wide, _outer_ passage, with a flight of steps should also be made under the rear nursery window, for taking in and passing out bulky articles, with double doors to shut down upon it; and partition walls should be built to support the partitions of the large rooms above. Many minor items of detail might be mentioned, all of which are already treated in the general remarks, under their proper heads, in the body of the work, and which cannot here be noticed--such as the mode of warming it, the construction of furnaces, &c. It may, by some builders, be considered a striking defect in the interior accommodation of a house of this character, that the chief entrance hall should not be extended through, from its front to the rear, as is common in many of the large mansions of our country. We object to the large, open hall for more than one reason, except, possibly, in a house for _summer_ occupation only. In the first place it is uncomfortable, in subjecting the house to an unnecessary draught of air when it is not needed, in cold weather. Secondly, it cuts the house into two distinct parts, making them inconvenient of access in crossing its wide surface. Thirdly, it is uneconomical, in taking up valuable room that can be better appropriated. For summer ventilation it is unnecessary; that may be given by simply opening the front door and a chamber window connected with the hall above, through which a current of fresh air will always pass. Another thing, the hall belongs to the front, or _dress_ part of the house, and should be _cut off_ from the more domestic and common apartments by a partition, although accessible to them, and not directly communicating with such apartments, which cannot of necessity, be in keeping with its showy and pretending character. It should contain only the _front_ flight of stairs, as a part of its appointments, besides the doors leading to its best apartments on the ground floor, which should be centrally placed--its rear door being of a less pretending and subordinate character. Thus, the hall, with its open doors, connecting the best rooms of the house on each side, with its ample flight of stairs in the background, gives a distinct expression of superiority in occupation to the other and humbler portions of the dwelling. In winter, too, how much more snug and comfortable is the house, shut in from the prying winds and shivering cold of the outside air, which the opposite outer doors of an open hall cannot, in their continual opening and shutting, altogether exclude! Our own experience, and, we believe, the experience of most housekeepers will readily concede its defects; and after full reflection we have excluded it as both unnecessary and inconvenient. Another objection has been avoided in the better class of houses here presented, which has crept into very many of the designs of modern builders; which is, that of using the living rooms of the family, more or less, as passages from the kitchen apartments in passing to and from the front hall, or chief entrance. Such we consider a decided objection, and hence arose, probably, the older plans of by-gone years, of making the main hall reach back to the kitchen itself. This is here obviated by a cutting up of the rear section of the hall, by which a passage, in all cases of the better kind of dwelling, is preserved, without encroaching upon the occupied rooms in passing out and in. To be sure, the front door is not the usual passage for the laborers or servants of the house, but they are subject, any hour of the day, to be called there to admit those who may come, and the continual opening of a private room for such purposes is most annoying. Therefore, as matter of convenience, and as a decided improvement on the designs above noticed, we have adhered strictly to the separate rear passage. The _garret_, also, as we have arranged our designs, is either altogether left out, or made a quite unimportant part of the dwelling. It is but a _lumber_ room, at best; and should be approached only by a flight of steps from a rear chamber or passage, and used as a receptacle for useless traps, or cast-off furniture, seldom wanted. It is hot in summer, and cold in winter, unfit for decent lodging to any human being in the house, and of little account any way. We much prefer running the chambers partially into the roof, which we think gives them a more comfortable expression, and admits of a better ventilation, by carrying their ceilings higher without the expense of high _body_ walls to the house, which would give them an otherwise naked look. If it be objected that thus running the chambers above the plates of the roof prevents the insertion of proper ties or beams to hold the roof plates together to prevent their spreading, we answer, that he must be a poor mechanic who cannot, in framing the chamber partitions so connect the opposite plates as to insure them against all such difficulty. A _sheltered, comfortable_ aspect is that which should distinguish every farm house, and the _cottage_ chamber is one of its chiefest characteristics; and this can only be had by running such apartments into the roof, as in our design. CONSTRUCTION. A house of this kind must, according to its locality, and the material of which it is built, be liable to wide differences of estimate in its cost; and from our own experience in such matters, any estimate here made we know cannot be reliable as a rule for other localities, where the prices of material and labor are different from our own. Where lumber, stone, and brick abound, and each are to be had at reasonable prices, the cost of an establishment of this kind would not vary much in the application of either one of these materials for the walls, if well and substantially constructed. There should be no _sham_, nor slight, in any part of the building. As already observed, the design shows a high degree of finish, which, if building for ourself, we should not indulge in. A plain style of cornice, and veranda finish, we should certainly adopt. But the roof should not be contracted in its projecting breadth over the walls, in any part of the structure--if anything, it should be more extended. The bay-window is an appendage of luxury, only. Great care should be had, in attaching its roof to the adjoining outer wall, to prevent leakage of any kind. If the walls be of brick, or stone, a beam or lintel of wood should be inserted in the wall over the window-opening, quite two inches--three would be better--back from its outer surface, to receive the casing of the window, that the drip of the wall, and the driving of the storms may fall _over_ the connecting joints of the window roof, beyond its point of junction with it. Such, also, should be the case with the intersection of the veranda or porch roof with the wall of the house, wherever a veranda, or porch is adopted; as, simply joined on to a _flush_ surface, as such appendages usually are--even if ever so well done--leakage and premature decay is inevitable. The style of finish must, of course, influence, in a considerable degree, its cost. It may, with the plainest finish, be done for $4,000, and from that, up to $6,000. Every one desirous to build, should apply to the best mechanics of his neighborhood for information on that point, as, in such matters, they are the best judges, and from experience in their own particular profession, of what the cost of building must be. The rules and customs of housekeeping vary, in different sections of the United States, and the Canadas. These, also, enter into the estimates for certain departments of building, and must be considered in the items of expenditure. The manner in which houses should be warmed, the ventilation, accommodation for servants and laborers, the appropriations to hospitality--all, will have a bearing on the expense, of which we cannot be the proper judge. A sufficient time should be given, to build a house of this character. A house designed and built in a hurry, is never a satisfactory house in its occupation. A year is little enough, and if two years be occupied in its design and construction, the more acceptable will probably be its finish, and the more comfort will be added in its enjoyment. GROUNDS, PLANTATIONS, AND SURROUNDINGS. A house of this kind should never stand in vulgar and familiar contact with the highway, but at a distance from it of one hundred to a thousand yards; or even, if the estate on which it is built be extensive, a much greater distance. Breadth of ground between the highway and the dwelling adds dignity and character to its appearance. An ample lawn, or a spreading park, well shaded with trees, should lay before it, through which a well-kept avenue leads to its front, and most frequented side. The various offices and buildings of the farm itself, should be at a respectable distance from it, so as not to interfere with its proper keeping as a genteel country residence. Its occupant is not to be supposed as under the necessity of toiling with his daily laborers in the fields, and therefore, although he may be strictly a man of business, he has sufficient employment in planning his work, and managing his estate through a foreman, in the various labor-occupations of the estate. His horse may be at his door in the earliest morning hours, that he may inspect his fields, and give timely directions to his laborers, or view his herds, or his flocks, before his breakfast hour; or an early walk may take him to his stables, his barns, or to see that his previous directions are executed. The various accommodation appurtenant to the dwelling, makes ample provision for the household convenience of the family, and the main business of the farm may be at some distance, without inconvenience to the owner's every-day affairs. Consequently, the indulgence of a considerable degree of ornament may be given, in the surroundings of his dwelling, which the occupant of a less extensive estate would neither require, nor his circumstances warrant. A natural forest of stately trees, properly thinned out, is the most appropriate spot on which to build a house of this character. But that not at hand, it should be set off with plantations of forest trees, of the largest growth, as in keeping with its own liberal dimensions. A capacious kitchen garden should lead off from the rear apartments, well stocked with all the family vegetables, and culinary fruits, in their proper seasons. A luxuriant fruit-garden may flank the least frequented side of the house. Neat and tasteful flower beds may lie beneath the windows of the rooms appropriated to the leisure hours of the family, to which the smaller varieties of shrubbery may be added, separated from the chief lawn, or park, only by a wire fence, or a simple railing, such as not to cut up and _checker_ its simple and dignified surface; and all these shut in on the rear from the adjoining fields of the farm by belts of large shrubbery closely planted, or the larger orchards, thus giving it a style of its own, yet showing its connection with the pursuits of the farm and its dependence upon it. These various appointments, however, may be either carried out or restricted, according to the requirements of the family occupying the estate, and the prevailing local taste of the vicinity in which it is situated; but no narrow or stingy spirit should be indicated in the general plan or in its execution. Every appointment connected with it should indicate a liberality of purpose in the founder, without which its effect is painfully marred to the eye of the man of true taste and judgment. Small yards, picketed in for small uses, have no business in sight of the grounds in front, and all minor concerns should be thrown into the rear, beyond observation from the main approach to the dwelling. The trees that shade the entrance park, or lawn, should be chiefly forest trees, as the oak, in its varieties, the elm, the maple, the chestnut, walnut, butternut, hickory, or beech. If the soil be favorable, a few weeping willows may throw their drooping spray around the house; and if exotic, or foreign trees be permitted, they should take their position in closer proximity to it than the natural forest trees, as indicating the higher care and cultivation which attaches to its presence. The Lombardy poplar, albeit a tree of disputed taste with modern planters, we would now and then throw in, not in stiff and formal rows, as guarding an avenue, but occasionally in the midst of a group of others, above which it should rise like a church spire from amidst a block of contiguous houses--a cheerful relief to the monotony of the rounder-headed branches of the more spreading varieties. If a stream of water meander the park, or spread into a little pond, trees which are partial to moisture should shadow it at different points, and low, water shrubs should hang over its border, or even run into its margin. Aquatic herbs, too, may form a part of its ornaments, and a boat-house, if such a thing be necessary, should, under the shade of a hanging tree of some kind, be a conspicuous object in the picture. An overhanging rock, if such a thing be native there, may be an object of great attraction to its features, and its outlet may steal away and be hid in a dense mass of tangled vines and brushwood. The predominating, _natural_ features of the place should be _cultivated_, not rooted out, and metamorphosed into something foreign and unfamiliar. It should, in short, be _nature_ with her _hair combed_ out straight, flowing, and graceful, instead of pinched, puffed, and curling--a thing of luxuriance and beauty under the hand of a master. The great difficulty with many Americans in getting up a new place of any considerable extent is, that they seem to think whatever is common, or natural in the features of the spot must be so changed as to show, above all others, their own ingenuity and love of expense in fashioning it to their peculiar tastes. Rocks must be sunk, or blasted, trees felled, and bushes grubbed, crooked water-courses straightened--the place gibbeted and put into stocks; in fact, that their own boasted handiwork may rise superior to the wisdom of Him who fashioned it in his own good pleasure; forgetting that a thousand points of natural beauty upon the earth on which they breathe are "When unadorned, adorned the most;" and our eye has been frequently shocked at finding the choicest gems of nature sacrificed to a wanton display of expense in perverting, to the indulgence of a mistaken fancy, that, which, with an eye to truth and propriety, and at a trifling expense, might have become a spot of abiding interest and contentment. DESIGN VI. A SOUTHERN OR PLANTATION HOUSE.--The proprietor of a plantation in the South, or South-west, requires altogether a different kind of residence from the farmer of the Northern, or Middle States. He resides in the midst of his own principality, surrounded by a retinue of dependents and laborers, who dwell distant and apart from his own immediate family, although composing a community requiring his daily care and superintendence for a great share of his time. A portion of them are the attachés of his household, yet so disconnected in their domestic relations, as to require a separate accommodation, and yet be in immediate contiguity with it, and of course, an arrangement of living widely different from those who mingle in the same circle, and partake at the same board. [Illustration: FARM HOUSE. Pages 155-156.] The usual plan of house-building at the South, we are aware, is to have _detached_ servants' rooms, and offices, and a space of some yards of uncovered way intervene between the family rooms of the chief dwelling and its immediate dependents. Such arrangement, however, we consider both unnecessary and inconvenient; and we have devised a plan of household accommodation which will bring the family of the planter himself, and their servants, although under different roofs, into convenient proximity with each other. A design of this kind is here given. The style is mainly Italian, plain, substantial, yet, we think, becoming. The broad veranda, stretching around three sides, including the front, gives an air of sheltered repose to what might otherwise appear an ambitious structure; and the connected apartments beyond, show a quiet utility which divests it of an over attempt at display. Nothing has been attempted for appearance, solely, beyond what is necessary and proper in the dwelling of a planter of good estate, who wants his domestic affairs well regulated, and his family, and servants duly provided with convenient accommodation. The form of the main dwelling is nearly square, upright, with two full stories, giving ample area of room and ventilation, together with that appropriate indulgence to ease which the enervating warmth of a southern climate renders necessary. The servants' apartments, and kitchen offices are so disposed, that while connected, to render them easy of access, they are sufficiently remote to shut off the familiarity of association which would render them obnoxious to the most fastidious--all, in fact, under one shelter, and within the readiest call. Such should be the construction of a planter's house in the United States, and such this design is intended to give. A stable and carriage-house, in the same style, is near by, not connected to any part of the dwelling, as in the previous designs--with sufficient accommodation for coachman and grooms, and the number of saddle and carriage horses that may be required for either business or pleasure; and to it may be connected, in the rear, in the same style of building, or plainer, and less expensive, further conveniences for such domestic animals as may be required for family use. The whole stands in open grounds, and may be separated from each other by enclosures, as convenience or fancy may direct. The roofs of all the buildings are broad and sweeping, well protecting the walls from storm and frosts, as well as the glaring influences of the sun, and combining that comfortable idea of shelter and repose so grateful in a well-conditioned country house. It is true, that the dwelling might be more extensive in room, and the purposes of luxury enlarged; but the planter on five hundred, or five thousand acres of land can here be sufficiently accommodated in all the reasonable indulgences of family enjoyment, and a liberal, even an elegant and prolonged hospitality, to which he is so generally inclined. The chimneys of this house, different from those in the previous designs, are placed next the outer walls, thus giving more space to the interior, and not being required, as in the others, to promote additional warmth than their fireplaces will give, to the rooms. A deck on the roof affords a pleasant look-out for the family from its top, guarded by a parapet, and giving a finish to its architectural appearance, and yet making no ambitious attempt at expensive ornament. It is, in fact, a plain, substantial, respectable mansion for a gentleman of good estate, and nothing beyond it. [Illustration: GROUND PLAN.] INTERIOR ARRANGEMENT. This house stands 50�40 feet on the ground. The front door opens from the veranda into a hall, 24�14 feet, in which is a flight of stairs leading to the chambers above. On the left a door leads into a library, or business room, 17�17 feet, lighted by three windows. A fireplace is inserted in the outer wall. Another door leads into a side hall, six feet wide, which separates the library from the dining-room, which is also 17�17 feet in area, lighted and accommodated with a fireplace like the other, with a door leading into it from the side hall, and another door at the further right hand corner leading into the rear hall, or entry. On the right of the chief entrance hall, opposite the library, a door opens into the parlor or drawing-room, 23�19 feet in area, lighted by three windows, and having a fireplace in the side wall. A door leads from the rear side of the parlor into a commodious nursery, or family bedroom, 19�16 feet in size, lighted by a window in each outer wall. A fireplace is also inserted on the same line as in the parlor. From the nursery a door leads into and through a large closet, 9�7 feet, into the rear hall. This closet may also be used as a sleeping-room for the children, or a confidential servant-maid, or nurse, or devoted to the storage of bed-linen for family use. Further on, adjoining, is another closet, 7�6 feet, opening from the rear hall, and lighted by a window. Leading from the outer door of the rear hall is a covered passage six feet wide, 16 feet long, and one and a half stories high, leading to the kitchen offices, and lighted by a window on the left, with a door opening in the same side beyond, on to the side front of the establishment. On the right, opposite, a door leads on to the kitchen porch, which is six feet wide, passing on to the bath-room and water-closet, in the far rear. At the end of the connecting passage from the main dwelling, a door opens into the kitchen, which is 24�18 feet in size, accommodated with two windows looking on to the porch just described. At one end is an open fireplace with a cooking range on one side, and an oven on the other. At the left of the entrance door is a large, commodious store-room and pantry, 12�9 feet, lighted by a window; and adjoining it, (and may be connected with it by a door, if necessary,) a kitchen closet of the same size, also connected by a corresponding door from the opposite corner of the kitchen. Between these doors is a flight of stairs leading to the sleeping-rooms above, and a cellar passage beneath them. In the farther right corner of the kitchen a door leads into a smaller closet, 8�6 feet, lighted by a small window looking on to the rear porch at the end. A door at the rear of the kitchen leads out into the porch of the wash-room beyond, which is six feet wide, and another door into the wash-room itself, which is 20�16 feet, and furnished with a chimney and boilers. A window looks out on the extreme right hand, and two windows on to the porch in front. A door opens from its rear wall into the wood-house, 32�12 feet, which stands open on two sides, supported by posts, and under the extended roof of the wash-room and its porch just mentioned. A servants' water-closet is attached to the extreme right corner of the wood-house, by way of lean-to. The bath-room is 10�6 feet in area, and supplied with water from the kitchen boilers adjoining. The water-closet beyond is 6 feet square, and architecturally, in its roof, may be made a fitting termination to that of the porch leading to it. [Illustration: CHAMBER PLAN.] The main flight of stairs in the entrance hall leads on to a broad landing in the spacious upper hall, from which doors pass into the several chambers, which may be duly accommodated with closets. The passage connecting with the upper story of the servants' offices, opens from the rear section of this upper hall, and by the flight of rear stairs communicates with the kitchen and out-buildings. A garret flight of steps may be made in the rear section of the main upper hall, by which that apartment may be reached, and the upper deck of the roof ascended. The sleeping-rooms of the kitchen may be divided off as convenience may dictate, and the entire structure thus appropriated to every accommodation which a well-regulated family need require. [Illustration: CARRIAGE HOUSE.] The carriage-house is 48�24 feet in size, with a projection of five feet on the entrance front, the door of which leads both into the carriage-room and stables. On the right is a bedroom, 10�8 feet, for the grooms, lighted by a window; and beyond are six stalls for horses, with a window in the rear wall beyond them. A flight of stairs leads to the hayloft above. In the rear of the carriage-room is a harness-room, 12�4 feet, and a granary of the same size, each lighted by a window. If farther attachments be required for the accommodation of out-building conveniences, they may be continued indefinitely in the rear. MISCELLANEOUS. It may strike the reader that the house just described has a lavish appropriation of veranda, and a needless side-front, which latter may detract from the _precise_ architectural keeping that a dwelling of this pretension should maintain. In regard to the first, it may be remarked, that no feature of the house in a southern climate can be more expressive of easy, comfortable enjoyment, than a spacious veranda. The habits of southern life demand it as a place of exercise in wet weather, and the cooler seasons of the year, as well as a place of recreation and social intercourse during the fervid heats of the summer. Indeed, many southern people almost live under the shade of their verandas. It is a delightful place to take their meals, to receive their visitors and friends; and the veranda gives to a dwelling the very expression of hospitality, so far as any one feature of a dwelling can do it. No equal amount of accommodation can be provided for the same cost. It adds infinitely to the _room_ of the house itself, and is, in fact, indispensable to the full enjoyment of a southern house. The side front in this design is simply a matter of convenience to the owner and occupant of the estate, who has usually much office business in its management; and in the almost daily use of his library, where such business may be done, a side door and front is both appropriate and convenient. The _chief_ front entrance belongs to his family and guests, and should be devoted to their exclusive use; and as a light fence may be thrown off from the extreme end of the side porch, separating the front lawn from the rear approach to the house, the veranda on that side may be reached from its rear end, for business purposes, without intruding upon the lawn at all. So we would arrange it. Objections may be made to the _sameness_ of plan, in the arrangement of the lower rooms of the several designs which we have submitted, such as having the nursery, or family sleeping-room, on the main floor of the house, and the uniformity, in location, of the others; and that there are no _new_ and _striking_ features in them. The answer to these may be, that the room appropriated for the nursery, or bedroom, may be used for other purposes, equally as well; that when a mode of accommodation is already as convenient as may be, it is poorly worth while to make it less convenient, merely for the sake of variety; and, that utility and convenience are the main objects to be attained in any well-ordered dwelling. These two requisites, utility and convenience, attained, the third and principal one--comfort--is secured. Cellar kitchens--the most abominable nuisances that ever crept into a country dwelling--might have been adopted, no doubt, to the especial delight of some who know nothing of the experimental duties of housekeeping; but the recommendation of these is an offence which we have no stomach to answer for hereafter. Steep, winding, and complicated staircases might have given a new feature to one or another of the designs; dark closets, intricate passages, unique cubby-holes, and all sorts of inside gimcrackery might have amused our pencil; but we have avoided them, as well as everything which would stand in the way of the simplest, cheapest, and most direct mode of reaching the object in view: a convenient, comfortably-arranged dwelling within, having a respectable, dignified appearance without--and such, we trust, have been thus far presented in our designs. LAWN, AND PARK SURROUNDINGS. The trees and shrubbery which ornament the approach to this house, should be rather of the graceful varieties, than otherwise. The weeping-willow, the horse-chesnut, the mountain-ash, if suitable to the climate; or the china-tree of the south, or the linden, the weeping-elm, and the silver-maple, with its long slender branches and hanging leaves, would add most to the beauty, and comport more closely with the character of this establishment, than the more upright, stiff, and unbending trees of our American forests. The Lombardy-poplar--albeit, an object of fashionable derision with many tree-fanciers in these more _tasty_ days, as it was equally the admiration of our fathers, of forty years ago--would set off and give effect to a mansion of this character, either in a clump at the back-ground, as shown in the design, or occasionally shooting up its spire-like top through a group of the other trees. Yet, if built in a fine natural park or lawn of oaks, with a few other trees, such as we have named, planted immediately around it, this house would still show with fine effect. The style of finish given to this dwelling may appear too ornate and expensive for the position it is supposed to occupy. If so, a plainer mode of finish may be adopted, to the cheapest degree consistent with the manner of its construction. Still, on examination, there will be found little intricate or really expensive work upon it. Strength, substance, durability, should all enter into its composition; and without these elements, a house of this appearance is a mere bauble, not fit to stand upon the premises of any man of substantial estate. If a more extensive accommodation be necessary, than the size of this house can afford, its style will admit of a wing, of any desirable length, on each side, in place of the rear part of the side verandas, without prejudice to its character or effect. Indeed, such wings may add to its dignity, and consequence, as comporting with the standing and influence which its occupant may hold in the community wherein he resides. A man of mark, indeed, should, if he live in the country, occupy a dwelling somewhat indicating the position which he holds, both in society and in public affairs. By this remark, we may be treading on questionable ground, in our democratic country; but, practically, there is a fitness in it which no one can dispute. Not that extravagance, pretension, or any other _assumption_ of superiority should mark the dwelling of the distinguished man, but that his dwelling be of like character with himself: plain, dignified, solid, and, as a matter of course, altogether respectable. It is a happy feature in the composition of our republican institutions, both social and political, that we can afford to let the flashy men of the _day_--not of _time_--flaunter in all their purchased fancy in house-building, without prejudice to the prevailing sober sentiment of their neighbors, in such particulars. The man of money, simply, may build his "villa," and squander his tens of thousands upon it. He may riot within it, and fidget about it for a few brief years; he may even hang his coat of arms upon it, if he can fortunately do so without stumbling over a lapstone, or greasing his coat against the pans of a cook-shop; but it is equally sure that no child of his will occupy it after him, even if his own changeable fancy or circumstances permit him to retain it for his natural life. Such are the episodes of country house-building, and of frequent attempts at agricultural life, by those who affect it as a matter of ostentation or display. For the subjects of these, we do not write. But there is something exceedingly grateful to the feelings of one of stable views in life, to look upon an estate which has been long in an individual family, still maintaining its primitive character and respectability. Some five-and-twenty years ago, when too young to have any established opinions in matters of this sort, as we were driving through one of the old farming towns in Massachusetts, about twenty miles west of Boston, we approached a comfortable, well-conditioned farm, with a tavern-house upon the high road, and several great elms standing about it. The road passed between two of the trees, and from a cross-beam, lodged across their branches, swung a large square sign, with names and dates painted upon it--name and date we have forgotten; it was a good old Puritan name, however--in this wise: "John Endicott, 1652." "John Endicott, 1696." "John Endicott, 1749." "John Endicott, 1784." "John Endicott, 1817." As our eyes read over this list, we were struck with the stability of a family who for many consecutive generations had occupied, by the same name, that venerable spot, and ministered to the comfort of as many generations of travelers, and incontinently took off our hat in respect to the record of so much worth, drove our horse under the shed, had him fed, went in, and took a quiet family dinner with the civil, good-tempered host, and the equally kind-mannered hostess, then in the prime of life, surrounded with a fine family of children, and heard from his own lips the history of his ancestors, from their first emigration from England--not in the Mayflower, to whose immeasurable accommodations our good New England ancestors are so prone to refer--but in one of her early successors. All over the old thirteen states, from Maine to Georgia, can be found agricultural estates now containing families, the descendants of those who founded them--exceptions to the general rule, we admit, of American stability of residence, but none the less gratifying to the contemplation of those who respect a deep love of home, wherever it may be found. For the moral of our episode on this subject, we cannot refrain from a description of a fine old estate which we have frequently seen, minus now the buildings which then existed, and long since supplanted by others equally respectable and commodious, and erected by the successor of the original occupant, the late Dr. Boylston, of Roxbury, who long made the farm his summer residence. The description is from an old work, "The History of the County of Worcester, in the State of Massachusetts, by the Rev. Peter Whitney, 1793:" "Many of the houses (in Princeton,) are large and elegant. This leads to a particular mention, that in this town is the country seat of the Hon. Moses Gill, Esq., ('Honorable' meant something in those days,) who has been from the year 1775 one of the Judges of the Court of Common Pleas for the county of Worcester, and for several years a counsellor of this commonwealth. His noble and elegant seat is about one mile and a quarter from the meeting-house, to the south. The farm contains upwards of three thousand acres. The county road from Princeton to Worcester passes through it, in front of the house, which faces to the west. The buildings stand upon the highest land of the whole farm; but it is level round about them for many rods, and then there is a very gradual descent. The land on which these buildings stand is elevated between twelve hundred and thirteen hundred feet above the level of the sea, as the Hon. James Winthrop, Esq. informs me. The mansion house is large, being 50�50 feet, with four stacks of chimnies. The farm house is 40 feet by 36: In a line with this stand the coach and chaise-house, 50 feet by 36. This is joined to the barn by a shed 70 feet in length--the barn is 200 feet by 32. Very elegant fences are erected around the mansion house, the out-houses, and the garden. "The prospect from this seat is extensive and grand, taking in a horizon to the east, of seventy miles, at least. The blue hills in Milton are discernible with the naked eye, from the windows of this superb edifice, distant not less than sixty miles; as also the waters in the harbor of Boston, at certain seasons of the year. When we view this seat, these buildings, and this farm of so many hundred acres, now under a high degree of profitable cultivation, and are told that in the year 1766 it was a perfect wilderness, we are struck with wonder, admiration, and astonishment. The honorable proprietor thereof must have great satisfaction in contemplating these improvements, so extensive, made under his direction, and, I may add, by his own active industry. Judge Gill is a gentleman of singular vivacity and activity, and indefatigable in his endeavors to bring forward the cultivation of his lands; of great and essential service, by his example, in the employment he finds for so many persons, and in all his attempts to serve the interests of the place where he dwells, and in his acts of private munificence, and public generosity, and deserves great respect and esteem, not only from individuals, but from the town and country he has so greatly benefited, and especially by the ways in which he makes use of that vast estate wherewith a kind Providence has blessed him." Such was the estate, and such the man who founded and enjoyed it sixty years ago; and many an equal estate, founded and occupied by equally valuable men, then existed, and still exist in all our older states; and if our private and public virtues are preserved, will ever exist in every state of our union. Such pictures, too, are forcible illustrations of the _morals_ of correct building on the ample estates of many of our American planters and farmers. The mansion house, which is so graphically described, we saw but a short time before it was pulled down--then old, and hardly worth repairing, being built of wood, and of style something like this design of our own, bating the extent of veranda. The cost of this house may be from $5000 to $8000, depending upon the material of which it is constructed, the degree of finish given to it, and the locality where it is built. All these circumstances are to be considered, and the estimates should be made by practical and experienced builders, who are competent judges in whatever appertains to it. [Illustration: FARM HOUSE. Pages 173-174.] DESIGN VII. A PLANTATION HOUSE.--Another southern house is here presented, quite different in architectural design from the last, plain, unpretending, less ornate in its finish, as well as less expensive in construction. It may occupy a different site, in a hilly, wooded country of rougher surface, but equally becoming it, as the other would more fitly grace the level prairie, or spreading plain in the more showy luxury of its character. This house stands 46�44 feet on the ground, two stories high, with a full length veranda, 10 feet wide in front, and a half length one above it, connecting with the main roof by an open gable, under which is a railed gallery for summer repose or recreation, or to enjoy the scenery upon which it may open. The roof is broad and overhanging, thoroughly sheltering the walls, and giving it a most protected, comfortable look. Covering half the rear is a lean-to, with shed roof, 16 feet wide, communicating with the servants' offices in the wing, the hall of which opens upon a low veranda on its front, and leading to the minor conveniences of the establishment. The main servants' building is 30�20 feet, one and a half stories high, with a roof in keeping with the main dwelling, and a chimney in the center. In rear of this is attached a wood-house, with a shed roof, thus sloping off, and giving it a reposed, quiet air from that point of view. A narrow porch, 23 feet long and 8 feet wide, also shades the remaining rear part of the main dwelling, opening on to the approach in rear. [Illustration: GROUND PLAN.] INTERIOR ARRANGEMENT. The front door opens into a hall 34 feet long and 10 feet wide, with a flight of stairs. On the left of this opens a parlor or dining-room, 22�18 feet, lighted by two windows in front and one on the side, and connecting with the dining-room beyond, which is 18�16 feet, with two small dining closets between. The dining-room has two windows opening on to the rear veranda. Under the cross flight of stairs in the hall, a partition separates it from the rear hall, into which is a door. On the right of the entrance hall is a library, 18�18 feet, lighted by three windows. At the farther end is a closet, and by the side of it a small entry leading into the nursery or family bedroom, 18�15 feet in size, which also has a corresponding closet with the library. On the rear of the nursery is a flight of back stairs opening from it. Under these stairs, at the other end, a door opens to another flight leading into the cellar below. A door also leads out from the nursery into the rear passage, to the offices; another door on the further side of the room opens into the rear hall of the house. The nursery should have two windows, but the drawing, by an error, gives only one. From this rear hall a door opens on the rear veranda, and another into the passage to the rear offices. This passage is six feet wide and 34 feet long, opening at its left end on to the veranda, and on the right, to the servants' porch, and from its rear side into three small rooms, 10 feet square each, the outer one of which may be a business room for the proprietor of the estate; the next, a store-room for family supplies; and the other a kitchen closet. Each of these is lighted by a window on the rear. A door also leads from the rear passage into the kitchen, 20�16 feet in area, with a window looking out in front and two others on the side and rear, and a door into the wood-house. In this is placed a large chimney for the cooking establishment, oven, &c., &c. A flight of stairs and partition divides this from the wash-room, which is 14�14 feet, with two windows in the side, and a door into the wood-house. This wood-house is open on two sides, and a water-closet is in the far corner. The small veranda, which is six feet wide, fronting the kitchen apartments, opens into the bath-room, 9�6 feet, into which the water is drawn from the kitchen boilers in the adjoining chimney. Still beyond this is the entrance to the water-closets, 6�5 feet. [Illustration: CHAMBER PLAN.] The chamber plan is simple, and will be readily comprehended. If more rooms are desirable, they can be cut off from the larger ones. A flight of garret stairs may also be put in the rear chamber hall. The main hall of the chambers, in connection with the upper veranda, may be made a delightful resort for the summer, where the leisure hours of the family may be passed in view of the scenery which the house may command, and thus made one of its most attractive features. MISCELLANEOUS. We have given less veranda to this house than to the last, because its style does not require it, and it is a cheaper and less pains-taking establishment throughout, although, perhaps, quite as convenient in its arrangement as the other. The veranda may, however, be continued round the two ends of the house, if required. A screen, or belt of privet, or low evergreens may be planted in a circular form from the front right-hand corner of the dwelling, to the corresponding corner of the rear offices, enclosing a clothes drying yard, and cutting them off from too sightly an exposure from the lawn in front. The opposite end of the house, which may be termed its _business_ front, may open to the every-day approach to the house, and be treated as convenience may determine. For the _tree_ decoration of this establishment, evergreens may come in for a share of attraction. Their conical, tapering points will correspond well with its general architecture, and add strikingly to its effect; otherwise the remarks already given on the subject of park and lawn plantation will suffice. As, however, in the position where this establishment is supposed to be erected, land is plenty, ample area should be appropriated to its convenience, and no pinched or parsimonious spirit should detract from giving it the fullest effect in an allowance of ground. Nor need the ground devoted to such purposes be at all lost, or unappropriated; various uses can be made of it, yielding both pleasure and profit, to which a future chapter will refer; and it is one of the chief pleasures of retired residence to cultivate, in the right place, such incidental objects of interest as tend to gratify, as well as to instruct, in whatever appertains to the elevation of our thoughts, and the improvement of our condition. All these, in their place, should be drawn about our dwellings, to render them as agreeable and attractive as our ingenuity and labor may command. LAWNS, GROUNDS, PARKS, AND WOODS. Having essayed to instruct our agricultural friends in the proper modes of erecting their houses, and providing for their convenient accommodation within them, a few remarks may be pardoned touching such collateral subjects of embellishment as may be connected with the farm residence in the way of plantations and grounds in their immediate vicinity. We are well aware that small farms do not permit any considerable appropriation of ground to _waste_ purposes, as such spots are usually called which are occupied with wood, or the shade of open trees, near the dwelling. But no dwelling can be complete in all its appointments without trees in its immediate vicinity. This subject has perhaps been sufficiently discussed in preceding chapters; yet, as a closing course of remark upon what a farm house, greater or less in extent, should be in the amount of shade given to it, a further suggestion or two may be permitted. There are, in almost all places, in the vicinity of the dwelling, portions of ground which can be appropriated to forest trees without detriment to other economical uses, if applied in the proper way. Any one who passes along a high road and discovers the farm house, seated on the margin or in the immediate vicinity of a pleasant grove, is immediately struck with the peculiarly rural and picturesque air which it presents, and thinks to himself that he should love such a spot for his own home, without reflecting that he might equally as well create one of the same character. Sites already occupied, where different dispositions are made of contiguous ground, may not admit of like advantages; and such are to be continued in their present arrangement, with such course of improvement as their circumstances will admit. But to such as are about to _select_ the sites of their future homes, it is important to study what can best embellish them in the most effective shade and ornament. In the immediate vicinity of our large towns and cities it is seldom possible to appropriate any considerable breadth of land to ornamental purposes, excepting rough and unsightly waste ground, more or less occupied with rock or swamp; or plainer tracts, so sterile as to be comparatively worthless for cultivation. Such grounds, too, often lie bare of wood, and require planting, and a course of years to cover them with trees, even if the proprietor is willing, or desirous to devote them to such purpose. Still, there are vast sections of our country where to economize land is not important, and a mixed occupation of it to both ornament and profit may be indulged to the extent of the owner's disposition. All over the United States there are grand and beautiful sweeps and belts of cultivated country, interspersed with finely-wooded tracts, which offer the most attractive sites for the erection of dwellings on the farms which embrace them, and that require only the eye and hand of taste to convert them, with slight labor, into the finest-wooded lawns and forested parks imaginable. No country whatever produces finer trees than North America. The evergreens of the north luxuriate in a grandeur scarcely known elsewhere, and shoot their cones into the sky to an extent that the stripling pines and firs, and larches of England in vain may strive to imitate. The elm of New England towers up, and spreads out its sweeping arms with a majesty unwonted in the ancient parks or forests of Europe; while its maples, and birches, and beeches, and ashes, and oaks, and the great white-armed buttonwood, make up a variety of intervening growth, luxuriant in the extreme. Pass on through the Middle States, and into the far west, and there they still flourish with additional kinds--the tulip and poplar--the nut-trees, in all their wide variety, with a host of others equally grand and imposing, interspersed; and shrub-trees innumerable, are seen every where as they sweep along your path. Beyond the Alleghanies, and south of the great lakes, are vast natural parks, many of them enclosed, and dotted with herds of cattle ranging over them, which will show single trees, and clumps of forest that William the Conqueror would have given a whole fiefdom in his Hampshire spoliations to possess; while, stretching away toward the Gulf of Mexico, new varieties of tree are found, equally imposing, grand, and beautiful, throughout the whole vast range, and in almost every locality, susceptible of the finest possible appropriation to ornament and use. Many a one of these noble forests, and open, natural parks have been appropriated already to embellish the comfortable family establishment which has been built either on its margin, or within it; and thousands more are standing, as yet unimproved, but equally inviting the future occupant to their ample protection. The moral influences, too, of lawns and parks around or in the vicinity of our dwellings, are worthy of consideration. Secluded as many a country dweller may be, away from the throng of society, there is a sympathy in trees which invites our thoughts, and draws our presence among them with unwonted interest, and in frequent cases, assist materially in stamping the feelings and courses of our future lives--always with pure and ennobling sentiments-- "The groves were God's first temples." The thoughtful man, as he passes under their sheltering boughs, in the heat of summer, with uncovered brow, silently worships the Hand that formed them there, scarcely conscious that their presence thus elevates his mind to holy aspirations. Among them, the speculative man "Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in stones." Even children, born and educated among groves of trees, drink in early impressions, which follow them for good all their days; and, when the toils of their after life are passed, they love to return to these grateful coverts, and spend their remaining days amid the tranquillity of their presence. Men habituated to the wildest life, too, enjoy the woods, the hills, and the mountains, beyond all the captivation and excitement of society, and are nowhere at rest, but when in their communion. The love of forest scenery is a thing to be cultivated as a high accomplishment, in those whose early associations have not been among them. Indeed, country life is tame, and intolerable, without a taste, either natural or acquired, for fine landscape scenery; and in a land like this, where the country gives occupation to so great a proportion of its people, and a large share of those engaged in the active and exciting pursuits of populous towns, sigh and look forward to its enjoyment, every inducement should be offered to cultivate a taste for those things which make one of its chief attractions. Nor should seclusion from general society, and a residence apart from the bustling activity of the world, present a bar to the due cultivation of the taste in many subjects supposed to belong only to the throng of association. It is one of the advantages of rural life, that it gives us time to think; and the greatest minds of whose labors in the old world we have had the benefit, and of later times, in our own land, have been reared chiefly in the solitude of the country. Patrick Henry loved to range among the woods, admiring the leafy magnificence of nature, and to follow the meandering courses of the brooks, with his hook and line. Washington, when treading the vast solitudes of central Virginia, with his surveyor's instruments on his back, conceived the wonderful resources of the great empire of which he will ever be styled the "father." The dwelling of the late John C. Calhoun, sheltered by noble trees, stands on an elevated swell of a grand range of mountain land, and it was there that his prolific genius ripened for those burning displays of thought which drew to him the affections of admiring thousands. Henry Clay undoubtedly felt the germ of his future greatness while sauntering, in his boyhood days, through the wild and picturesque slashes of Hanover. Webster, born amid the rugged hills of New Hampshire, drew the delightful relish of rural life, for which he is so celebrated, from the landscapes which surrounded his early home, and laid the foundation of his mighty intellect in the midst of lone and striking scenery. Bryant could never have written his "Thanatopsis," his "Rivulet," and his "Green River," but from the inspiration drawn from his secluded youthful home in the mountains of Massachusetts. Nor, to touch a more sacred subject, could Jonathan Edwards ever have composed his masterly "Treatise on the Will," in a pent-up city; but owes his enduring fame to the thought and leisure which he found, while ministering, among the sublime mountains of the Housatonic, to a feeble tribe of Stockbridge Indians. And these random names are but a few of those whose love of nature early imbibed, and in later life enjoyed in their own calm and retired homes, amid the serene beauty of woods and waters, which might be named, as illustrations of the influence which fine scenery may exercise upon the mind, to assist in moulding it to greatness. The following anecdote was told us many years ago, by a venerable man in Connecticut, a friend of the elder Hillhouse, of New Haven, to whom that city is much indebted for the magnificent trees by which it has become renowned as "the City of the Elms:" While a member of the General Assembly of that state, when Hillhouse was in Congress, learning that he had just returned home from the annual session, our informant, with a friend, went to the residence of the statesman, to pay him a visit. He had returned only that morning, and on their way there, they met him near his house, with a stout young tree on his shoulder, just taken from a neighboring piece of forest, which he was about to transplant in the place of one which had died during his absence. After the usual salutations, our friend expressed his surprise that he was so soon engaged in tree-planting, before he had even had time to look to his private and more pressing affairs. "Another day may be too late," replied the senator; "my tree well planted, it will grow at its leisure, and I can then look to my own concerns at my ease. So, gentlemen, if you will just wait till the tree is set, we'll walk into the house, and settle the affairs of state in our own way." Walter Scott, whose deep love of park and forest scenery has stamped with his masterly descriptions, his native land as the home of all things beautiful and useful in trees and plantations, spent a great share of his leisure time in planting, and has written a most instructive essay on its practice and benefits. He puts into the mouth of "the Laird of Dumbiedikes," the advice, "Be aye sticking in a tree, Jock; it will be growing while you are sleeping." But Walter Scott had no American soil to plant his trees upon; nor do the grandest forest parks of Scotland show a tithe of the luxuriance and majesty of our American forests. Could he but have seen the variety, the symmetry, and the vast size of our oaks, and elms, and evergreens, a new element of descriptive power would have grown out of the admiration they had created within him; and he would have envied a people the possession of such exhaustless resources as we enjoy, to embellish their homes in the best imaginable manner, with such enduring monuments of grace and beauty. To the miscellaneous, or casual reader, such course of remark may appear merely sublimated nonsense. No matter; we are not upon stilts, talking _down_ to a class of inferior men, in a condescending tone, on a subject above their comprehension; but we are addressing men, and the sons of men, who are our equals--although, like ourself, upon their farms, taking their share in its daily toils, as well as pleasures--and can perfectly well understand our language, and sympathize with our thoughts. They are the thoughts of rural life everywhere. It was old Sam Johnson, the great lexicographer, who lumbered his unwieldy gait through the streets of cities for a whole life, and with all his vast learning and wisdom, had no appreciation of the charms of the country, that said, "Who feeds fat cattle should himself be fat;" as if the dweller on the farm should not possess an idea above the brutes around him. We wonder if he ever supposed a merchant should have any more brain than the parcel that he handled, or the bale which he rolled, or directed others to roll for him! But, loving the solitude of the farm, and finding a thousand objects of interest and beauty scattered in profusion, where those educated among artificial objects would see nothing beyond things, to them, vulgar and common-place, in conversing with our rural friends upon what concerns their daily comfort, and is to constitute the nursery of those who succeed them, and on the influences which may, in a degree, stamp their future character, we cannot forbear such suggestions, connected with the family Home, as may induce them to cultivate all those accessories around it, which may add to their pleasure and contentment. We believe it was Keats, who said, "A thing of Beauty is a joy for ever." And the thought that such "beauty" has been of our own creation, or that our own hands have assisted in its perpetuation, should certainly be a deep "joy" of our life. We have remarked, that the farm house is the chief nursery on which our broad country must rely for that healthy infusion of stamina and spirit into those men who, under our institutions, guide its destiny and direct its councils. They, in the great majority of their numbers, are natives of the retired homestead. It is, therefore, of high consequence, that good taste, intelligence, and correct judgment, should enter into all that surrounds the birth-place, and early scenes of those who are to be the future actors in the prominent walks of life, either in public or private capacity; and as the love of trees is one of the leading elements of enjoyment amid the outward scenes of country-life, we commend most heartily all who dwell in the pure air and bright sunshine of the open land to their study and cultivation. Every man who lives in the country, be he a practical farmer or not, should _plant_ trees, more or less. The father of a family should plant, for the benefit of his children, as well as for his own. The bachelor and the childless man should plant, if for nothing more than to show that he has left _some_ living thing to perpetuate his memory. Boys should early be made planters. None but those who love trees, and plant them, know the serene pleasure of watching their growth, and anticipating their future beauty and grandeur; and no one can so exquisitely enjoy their grateful shade, as he whose hand has planted and cared for them. Planting, too, is a most agreeable pastime to a reflecting mind. It may be ranked among the pleasures, instead of the toils of life. We have always so found it. There is no pleasanter sight of labor than to see a father, with his young lads about him, planting a tree. It becomes a landmark of their industry and good taste; and no thinking man passes a plantation of fine trees but inwardly blesses the man, or the memory of the man who placed them there. Aside from all this, trees properly distributed, give a value to an estate far beyond the cost of planting, and tending their growth, and which no other equal amount of labor and expense upon it can confer. Innumerable farms and places have been sold at high prices, over those of perhaps greater producing value, merely for the trees which embellished them. Thus, in a pecuniary light, to say nothing of the pleasure and luxury they confer, trees are a source of profitable investment. It is a happy feature in the improving rural character of our country, that tree-planting and tree preservation for some years past have attracted much more attention than formerly; and with this attention a better taste is prevailing in their selection. We have gained but little in the introduction of many of the foreign trees among us, for ornament. Some of them are absolutely barbarous in comparison with our American forest trees, and their cultivation is only a demonstration of the utter want of good taste in those who apply them. For ordinary purposes, but few exotics should be tolerated; and those chiefly in collections, as curiosities, or for arboretums--in which latter the farmer cannot often indulge; and for all the main purposes of shade, and use, and ornament, the trees of no country can equal our own. Varied as our country is, in soils and climates, no particular directions can be given as to the individual varieties of tree which are to be preferred for planting. Each locality has its own most appropriate kinds, and he who is to plant, can best make the selections most fitted to his use. Rapid-growing trees, when of fine symmetry, and free from bad habits in throwing up suckers; not liable to the attacks of insects; of early, dense, and long-continued foliage, are most to be commended; while their opposites in character should be avoided in all well-kept grounds. It requires, indeed, but a little thought and observation to guide every one in the selection which he should make, to produce the best effect of which the tree itself is capable. Giving the importance we have, to trees, and their planting, it may be supposed that we should discuss their position in the grounds to which they should be appropriated. But no specific directions can be given at large. All this branch of the subject must be left to the locality, position, and surface of the ground sought to be improved. A good tree can scarcely stand in a wrong place, when not injurious to a building by its too dense shade, or shutting out its light, or prospect. Still, the proper disposition of trees is a _study_, and should be well considered before they be planted. Bald, unsightly spots should be covered by them, when not devoted to more useful objects of the farm, either in pasturage or cultivation. A partial shading of the soil by trees may add to its value for grazing purposes, like the woodland pastures of Kentucky, where subject to extreme droughts, or a scorching sun. If the planter feels disposed to consult authorities, as to the best disposition of his trees, works on Landscape Gardening may be studied; but these can give only general hints, and the only true course is to strive to make his grounds look as much like nature herself as possible--for nature seldom makes mistakes in her designs. To conclude a course of remark, which the plain farmer, cultivating his land for its yearly profit alone, may consider as foreign to the subject of our work, we would not recommend any one to plant trees who is not willing to spend the necessary time to nurse and tend them afterward, till they are out of harm's way, and well established in a vigorous growth. All this must be taken into the account, for it is better to have even but a few trees, and those what trees should be, than a whole forest of stinted things, writhing and pining through a course of sickly existence. A chapter might also be written upon the proper mode of taking up and planting trees, but as this would lead us to a subject more directly belonging to another department, the proper authorities on that head must be consulted. FRUIT GARDEN--ORCHARDS. As the fruit garden and orchards are usually near appendages to the dwelling and out-buildings, a few remarks as to their locality and distribution may be appropriate. The first should _always_ be near the house, both for convenience in gathering its fruits, and for its due protection from the encroachments of those not entitled to its treasures. It should, if possible, adjoin the kitchen garden, for convenience of access; as fruit is, or should be, an important item in the daily consumption of every family where it can be grown and afforded. A sheltered spot, if to be had, should be devoted to this object; or if not, its margin, on the exposed side, should be set with the hardiest trees to which it is appropriated--as the apple. The fruit garden, proper, may also contain the smaller fruits, as they are termed, as the currant, gooseberry, raspberry, and whatever other shrub-fruits are grown; while the quince, the peach, the apricot, nectarine, plum, cherry, pear, and apple may, in the order they are named, stand in succession behind them, the taller and more hardy growth of each successive variety rising higher, and protecting its less hardy and aspiring neighbor. The soil for all these varieties of tree is supposed to be congenial, and our remarks will only be directed to their proper distribution. The aspect for the fruit garden should, if possible, front the south, south-east, or south-west, in a northerly climate. In the Middle and Southern States the exposure is of less consequence. Currants, gooseberries, raspberries, &c., should, for their most productive bearing, and the highest quality of their fruits, be set at least four feet apart, in the rows, and the rows six feet distant from each other, that there may be abundant room to cultivate them with the plow, and kept clean of weeds and grass. The quince, peach, apricot, nectarine, and plum should be 16 feet apart each way. The pear, if on quince stock, may be 12 feet apart, and if on its own stock, 20 to 24 feet; while the apple should always be 30 to 36 feet apart, to let in the requisite degree of sun and air to ripen as well as give growth, color, and flavor to its fruit. The tendency of almost all planters of fruit trees is to set them too close, and many otherwise fine fruit gardens are utterly ruined by the compact manner in which they are planted. Trees are great consumers of the atmosphere; every leaf is a lung, inhaling and respiring the gases, and if sufficient breathing room be not allowed them, the tree sickens, and pines for the want of it; therefore, every fruit tree, and fruit-bearing shrub should be so placed that the summer sun can shine on every part of its surface at some hour of the day. In such position, the fruit will reach its maximum of flavor, size, and perfection. The ground, too, should be rich; and, to have the greatest benefit of the soil, no crops should be grown among the trees, after they have arrived at their full maturity of bearing. Thus planted, and nursed, with good selections of varieties, both the fruit garden and the orchard become one of the most ornamental, as well as most profitable portions of the farm. In point of position, as affecting the appearance of the homestead, the fruit garden should stand on the _weather-side_ of the dwelling, so as, although protected, in its several varieties, by itself, when not altogether sheltered by some superior natural barrier, it should appear to shelter both the dwelling and kitchen gardens, which adjoin them. As this is a subject intended to be but incidentally touched in these pages, and only then as immediately connected in its general character with the dwelling house and its attachments, we refrain from going into any particulars of detail concerning it. It is also a subject to which we are strongly attached, and gladly would we have a set chat with our readers upon it; but as the discussion for so broad a field as we should have to survey, would be in many points arbitrary, and unfitting to local information as to varieties, and particular cultivation, we refer the reader, with great pleasure, to the several treatises of Downing, and Thomas, and Barry, on this interesting topic, with which the public are fortunately in possession; observing, only, that there is no one item of rural economy to which our attention can be given, which yields more of luxury, health, and true enjoyment, both to the body and the mind, than the cultivation of good fruits. HOW TO LAY OUT A KITCHEN GARDEN. The kitchen garden yields more necessaries and comforts to the family, than any other piece of ground on the premises. It is, of consequence, necessary that it be so located and planned as to be ready of access, and yield the greatest possible quantity of products for the labor bestowed upon it; and as locality and plan have much to do with the labor bestowed upon it and the productions it may yield, both these subjects should be considered. As to locality, the kitchen garden should lie in the _warmest_ and _most sheltered_ spot which may be convenient to the _kitchen_ of the house. It should, in connection with that, be convenient of access to the dung-yards of the stables. The size may be such as your necessities or your convenience may demand. The shape, either a parallelogram or a square; for it will be recollected, that this is a place allotted, not for a _show_ or _pleasure_ ground, but for _profit_. If the garden be large, this shape will better allow the use of the plow to turn up the soil, which, in a large garden, is a much cheaper, and, when properly done, a better mode than to spade it; and if small, and it be worked with the spade, _right_ lines are easier made with the spade than curved ones. One or more walks, at least eight feet wide, should be made, leading from a broad gate, or bars, through which a cart and horse, or oxen, may enter, to draw in manure, or carry out the vegetables; and if such walk, or walks, do not extend around the garden, which, if in a large one, they should do, a sufficient area should be thrown out at the farther extremity, to turn the cart upon. If the soil be free, and stony, the stones should be taken out _clean_, when large--and if small, down to the size of a hen's egg--and the surface made as level as possible, for a loose soil will need no draining. If the soil be a clay, or clayey loam, it should be underdrained two and a half feet, _to be perfect_, and the draining so planned as to lead off to a lower spot outside. This draining _warms_ the soil, opens it for filtration, and makes it friable. Then, properly fenced, thoroughly manured, and plowed deep, and left rough--no matter how rough--in the fall of the year, and as late before the setting in of winter as you dare risk it, that part of the preparation is accomplished. The _permanent_ or wide walks of the garden, after being laid out and graded, should never be plowed nor disturbed, except by the hoe and rake, to keep down the weeds and grass; yet, if a close, and well-shorn grass turf be kept upon them, it is perhaps the cheapest and most cleanly way of keeping the walks. They need only cutting off close with the hand-hook, in summer. We have known a great many people, after laying out a kitchen garden, and preparing it for use, fill it up with fruit trees, supposing that vegetables will grow quite as well with them as without. This is a wide mistake. _No tree larger than a currant or gooseberry bush should ever stand in a vegetable garden._ These fruits being partially used in the cooking department, as much in the way of vegetables, as of fruits, and small in size, may be permitted; and they, contrary to the usual practice, should always stand in _open_ ground, where they can have all the benefits of the sun and rain to ripen the fruit to perfection, as well as to receive the cultivation they need, instead of being placed under fences around the sides of the garden, where they are too frequently neglected, and become the resort of vermin, or make prolific harbors for weeds. Along the main walks, or alleys, the borders for perennial plants, as well as the currant and gooseberry bushes, should be made--for the plow should run parallel to, and not at right angles with them. Here may stand the rhubarbs, the sea kales, the various herbs, or even the asparagus beds, if a particular quarter be not set apart for them; and, if it be important, a portion of these main borders may be appropriated to the more common flowers and small shrubbery, if desired to cultivate them in a plain way; but not a peach, apricot, or any other larger tree than a currant or raspberry, should come within it. They not only shade the small plants, but suck up and rob them of their food and moisture, and keep off the sun, and prevent the circulation of air--than which nothing needs all these more than garden vegetables, to have them in high perfection. If it be necessary, by means of a cold exposure on the one side, to have a close plantation of shrubbery to screen the garden, let it be _outside_ the fence, rather than within it; but if within, let there be a _broad_ walk between such shrubbery and the garden beds, as their roots will extend under the vegetables, and rob them of their food. A walk, alley, or cartway, on the sides of the garden, is always better _next to the fence_, than to fill that space with anything else, as it is usually shaded for a portion of the day, and may be better afforded for such _waste_ purposes than the open, sunny ground within. It will be observed that _market gardeners_, men who always strive to make the most profit from their land and labor, and obtain the _best_ vegetables, cultivate them in open fields. Not a tree, nor even a bush is permitted to stand near the growing crop, if they can prevent it; and where one is not stinted in the area of his domain, their example should be followed. A word upon _plowing_ gardens. Clays, or clayey loams, should always be manured and plowed in the fall, just before the setting in of the winter frosts. A world of pounding and hammering of lumps, to make them fine, in spring, is saved by fall plowing, besides incorporating the manure more thoroughly with the soil, as well as freezing out and destroying the eggs of worms and insects which infest it. Thrown up deeply and roughly with the plow or spade, the frosts act mechanically upon the soil, and slack and pulverise it so thoroughly that a heavy raking in early spring, is all that becomes necessary to put it in the finest condition for seeds, and make it perhaps the very best and most productive of all garden soils whatever. A light sandy loam is better to lie compact in winter, and manured and turned up in early spring. Its friable nature leaves it always open and light, and at all times in the absence of frost, accessible to the spade or the hoe. On these accounts, it is usually the most desirable and convenient soil for the kitchen garden, and on the whole, generally preferred where either kind may be a matter simply of choice. FLOWERS. Start not, gentle reader! We are not about to inflict upon you a dissertation on Pelargoniums, Calla-Ethiopias, Japonicas, and such like unmentionable terms, that bring to your mind the green-house, and forcing-house, and all the train of expense and vexation attending them; but we desire to have a short familiar conversation about what is all around you, or if not around you, should be, and kept there, with very little pains or labor on your part. Still, if you dislike the subject, just hand this part of our book over to your excellent wife, or daughters, or sisters, as the case may be, and we will talk to them about this matter. Flowers have their objects, and were made for our use and pleasure; otherwise, God would never have strewed them, as he has, so bountifully along our paths, and filled the world with their fragrance and beauty. Like all else beautiful, which He made, and pronounced "good," flowers have been objects of admiration and love since man's creation; and their cultivation has ever been a type of civilization and refinement among all people who have left written records behind them. Flowers equally become the cottage and the palace, in their decoration. The humblest cottager, and the mightiest monarch, have equally admired their beauty and their odor; and the whole train of mortals between, have devoted a portion of their time and thoughts to the development of their peculiar properties. But let that pass. Plain country people as we are, there are enough of sufficient variety all around us, to engage our attention, and give us all that we desire to embellish our homes, and engage the time which we have to devote to them. Among the wild flowers, in the mountains and hills of the farthest North, on the margin of their hidden brooks, where "Floats the scarce-rooted watercress;" and on their barren sides, the tiny violet and the laurel bloom, each in their season, with unwonted beauty; and, sloping down on to the plains beneath, blush out in all their summer garniture, the wild rose and the honeysuckle. On, through the Middle States, the lesser flowers of early spring throw out a thousand brilliant dyes, and are surrounded by a host of summer plants, vieing with each other in the exuberance of their tints. On the Alleghanies, through all their vast range, grow up the magnificent dogwood, kalmia, and rhododendron, spangling mile upon mile of their huge sides and tops with white, and covering crags and precipices of untold space with their blushing splendor. Further west, on the prairies, and oak openings, and in the deep woods, too, of the great lakes, and of the Mississippi valley, with the earliest grass, shoot up, all over the land, a succession of flowers, which in variety and profusion of shape, and color, and odor, outvie all the lilies of the gardens of Solomon; and so they continue till the autumnal frosts cut down both grass and flower alike. Further south, along the piney coast, back through the hills and over the vast reach of cotton and sugar lands, another class of flowers burst out from their natural coverts in equal glory; and the magnolia, and the tulip-tree, and the wild orange throw a perfume along the air, like the odors of Palestine. In the deep lagoons of the southern rivers, too, float immense water-lilies, laying their great broad leaves, and expanded white and yellow flowers, upon the surface, which the waters of the Nile in the days of Cleopatra never equaled. And these are nature's wild productions only. Flowers being cultivated, not for profit, but for show and amusement, need not intrude upon the time which is required to the more important labors of the farm. A little time, given at such hours when it can be best spared, will set all the little flower-beds in order, and keep the required shrubbery of the place in trim--and should not be denied in any family who enjoy a taste for them. Even the simplest of their kind, when carefully disposed, produce a fine effect; and the hardy bulbous, and tuberous-rooted plants require but slight aid in producing the highest perfection of their bloom; while the fibrous-rooted perennials, and the flowering shrubs, bloom on from year to year, almost uncared for and untouched. The annuals require the most attention. Their seeds must be planted and gathered every year; they must be weeded and nursed with more care than the others; yet they richly repay all this trouble in their fresh bloom when the others are gone, and will carry their rich flowers far into the frosts of autumn, when their hardier companions have composed themselves for a winter's rest. The position of the flower-bed, or borders, may be various. As a matter of taste, however, they should be near the house, and in view of the windows of the most frequented rooms. They thus give more enjoyment in their sight, than when but occasionally seen in special visits; and such spots can usually be set apart for them. If not in the way of more important things, they should always be thus placed, where they are ever objects of interest and attraction. The ground which flowering plants occupy should be devoted to them alone, and the soil be made deep and rich. They should not be huddled up, nor crowded, but stand well apart, and have plenty of breathing-room for their branches and leaves, and space for the spread of their roots. They are consumers of the fertilizing gases, and require, equally with other plants, their due supply of manures--which also adds to the brilliance and size of their bloom, as well as to the growth of their stems. Their roots should be protected in winter by coarse litter thrown over them, particularly the earlier flowering plants, as it gives them an early and rapid start in the spring. In variety, we need scarcely recommend what may be most desirable. The crocus, and snowdrop are among (if not quite) the earliest in bloom; and to these follow the hyacinth, and daffodil, the jonquil, and many-varied family of Narcissus, the low-headed hearts-ease, or pansy; with them, too, comes the flowering-almond, the lilac, and another or two flowering shrubs. Then follow the tulips, in all their gorgeous and splendid variety of single, double, and fringed. To these follow the great peonies, in their full, dashing colors of crimson, white and pink, and the tree-like snow-ball, or guelder-rose. By the side of these hangs out the monthly-trumpet-honeysuckle, gracing the columns of your veranda, porch, or window, and the large Siberian honeysuckle, with its white and pink flowers; and along with them, the various Iris family, or fleur-de-lis, reminding one of France and the Bourbons, the Prussian lilac, and the early phloxes. Then blush out, in all their endless variety of shade and tint, from the purest white to the deepest purple, the whole vast family of roses; and in stature, from the humblest twig that leans its frail stem upon the ground, up to the hardy climber, whose delicious clusters hang over your chamber window; and a month of fragrance and beauty of these completes the succession of bulbs, and tubers, and perennial plants and shrubs--scores of which have not been noticed. Now commence the annuals, which may carry you a month further into the season, when the flaunting dahlia of every hue, and budding from its plant of every size, from the height of little Tommy, who is just toddling out with his mother to watch the first opening flower, up to the top of his father's hat, as he stands quite six feet, to hold the little fellow up to try to smell of another, which, like all the rest, has no sign of odor. Then come, after a long retinue of different things--among which we always count the morning-glory, or convolvulus, running up the kitchen windows,--the great sun-flower, which throws his broad disk high over the garden fence, always cheerful, and always glowing--the brilliant tribe of asters, rich, varied, and beautiful, running far into the autumnal frosts; and, to close our floral season, the chrysanthemum, which, well cared-for, blooms out in the open air, and, carefully taken up and boxed, will stay with us, in the house, till Christmas. Thus ends the blooming year. Now, if you would enjoy a pleasure perfectly pure, which has no alloy, save an occasional disappointment by casualty, and make home interesting beyond all other places, learn first to love, then to get, and next to cultivate flowers. FARM COTTAGES. Altogether too little attention has been paid in our country to these most useful appendages to the farm, both in their construction and appearance. Nothing adds more to the feeling of comfort, convenience, and _home_ expression in the farm, than the snug-built laborers' cottage upon it. The cottage also gives the farm an air of respectability and dignity. The laborer should, if not so sumptuously, be as comfortably housed and sheltered as his employer. This is quite as much to the interest of such employer as it is beneficial to the health and happiness of the laborer. Building is so cheap in America, that the difference in cost between a snugly-finished cottage, and a rickety, open tenement, is hardly to be taken into consideration, as compared with the higher health, and increased enjoyment of the laborer and his family; while every considerate employer knows that cheerfulness and contentment of disposition, which are perhaps more promoted by good home accommodations for the workingman than by any other influence, are strong incentives to increased labor on his part, and more fidelity in its application. A landed estate, of whatever extent, with its respectable farm house, in its own expressive style of construction, relieved and set off by its attendant cottages, either contiguous, or remote, and built in their proper character, leaves nothing wanting to fill the picture upon which one loves to gaze in the contemplation of country life; and without these last in due keeping with the chief structures of the estate, a blank is left in its completeness and finish. The little embellishments which may be given, by way of architectural arrangement, or the conveniences in accommodation, are, in almost all cases, appreciated by those who occupy them, and have an influence upon their character and conduct; while the trifling decorations which may be added in the way of shrubbery, trees, and flowering plants, costing little or nothing in their planting and keeping, give a charm to the humblest abode. The position of cottages on a farm should be controlled by considerations of convenience to the place of labor, and a proper economy in their construction; and hardly a site can be inappropriate which ensures these requirements. In the plans which are submitted, due attention has been paid to the comfort of those who inhabit them, as well as to picturesque effect in the cottage itself. Decency, order, and respectability are thus given to the estate, and to those who inhabit the cottages upon it, as well as to those whose more fortunate position in life has given the enjoyment of a higher luxury in the occupancy of its chief mansion. On all estates where the principal dwelling is located at any considerable distance from the public road, or where approached by a side road shut off from the highway by a gate, a small cottage, by way of lodge, or laborer's tenement, should be located at or near the entrance. Such appendage is not only ornamental in itself, but gives character to the place, and security to the enclosure; in guarding it from improper intrusion, as well as to receive and conduct into the premises those who either reside upon, or have business within it. It is thus a sort of sentry-box, as well as a laborer's residence. [Illustration: COTTAGE. Pages 211-212.] DESIGN I. This cottage is 10 feet high, from the sill to the plates, and may be built of wood, with a slight frame composed of sills and plates only, and planked up and down (vertically) and battened; or grooved and tongued, and matched close together; or it may be framed throughout with posts and studs, and covered with rough boards, and over these clapboards, and lathed and plastered inside. The first mode would be the cheapest, although not so warm and durable as the other, yet quite comfortable when warmed by a stove. On the second plan of building, it will cost near or quite double the amount of the first, if neatly painted. A small brick chimney should rest upon the floor overhead, in the side of which, at least a foot above the chamber floor, should be inserted an earthen or iron thimble, to receive the stovepipe and guard against fire; unless a flat stone, 14 to 16 inches square, and 2 to 4 inches thick, with a pipe-hole--which is the better plan--should rest on the floor immediately over the pipe. This stone should be, also, the foundation of the chimney, which should pass immediately up through the ridge of the roof, and, for effect, in the center longitudinally, of the house. Such position will not interfere with the location of the stove, which may be placed in any part of the room, the pipe reaching the chimney by one or more elbows. INTERIOR ARRANGEMENT. The main body of this cottage is 18�12 feet, with a lean-to, 8 feet wide, running its whole length in rear. This lean-to may be 8 or 9 inches lower, on the floor, than the main room, and divided into a passage, (leading to an open wood-house in rear, 10�12 feet, with a shed roof,) a large closet, and a bedroom, as may be required; or, the passage end may be left open at the side, for a wood shelter, or other useful purpose. The roof, which is raftered, boarded, and shingled in the usual mode, is well spread over the gables, as well as over the front and rear--say 18 inches. The porch in front will give additional convenience in summer, as a place to sit, or eat under, and its posts so fitted with grooves as to let in rough planks for winter enclosure in front and at one end, leaving the entrance only, at the least windy, or stormy side. The extra cost of such preparation, with the planks, which should be 1¼ or 1½ inches thick, and jointed, would not exceed ten or fifteen dollars. This would make an admirable wood-house for the winter, and a perfect snuggery for a small family. While in its summer dress, with the porch opened--the planks taken out and laid overhead, across the beams connecting the porch with the house--it would present an object of quiet comfort and beauty. A hop vine or honeysuckle might be trained outside the posts, and give it all the shade required. In a stony country, where the adjoining enclosures are of stone, this cottage may be built of stone, also, at about double the cost of wood. This would save the expense of paint, or wash of any kind, besides the greater character of durability and substance it would add to the establishment. Trees, of course, should shelter it; and any little out-buildings that may be required should be nestled under a screen of vines and shrubbery near by. This being designed as the humblest and cheapest kind of cottage, where the family occupy only a single room, the cost would be small. On the plan first named, stained with a coarse wash, it could be built for $100. On the second plan, well-framed of sills, plates, posts, studs, &c. &c., covered with vertical boarding and battens, or clapboarded, and well painted in oil, it might cost $150 to $200. Stone, or brick, without paint, would add but little, if anything in cost over the last sum. The ceiling of the main floor is 8 feet high, and a low chamber or garret is afforded above it, into which a swing-step ladder ascends; and when not in use, it may be hung to the ceiling overhead by a common hook and staples. DESIGN II. This cottage is a grade beyond the one just described, both in appearance and accommodation. It is 20�16 feet on the ground, with a rear wing 26�8 feet in area. The main body is 10 feet high, to the roof, vertically boarded and battened. A snug, half-open (or it may be closed, as convenience may require,) porch shelters the front door, 5�4 feet in area. The cottage has a square or hipped roof, of a 30° pitch from a horizontal line, which spreads full two feet over the walls and bracketed beneath. The rear wing retreats two feet from the wall line of the main building, and has also a hipped roof of the same pitch as the main one, with eight-feet posts. The open end of the wing advances 6 feet toward the front of the main part for wood-house and storage. The construction of this is in the same style as Design I. The windows are plain, two-sashed, of six lights each, 8�12 glass in front, and 8�10 in the rear. [Illustration: COTTAGE. Pages 217-218.] INTERIOR ARRANGEMENT. The front door opens into a common living room, 16�12 feet, with two windows, in which is a stove-chimney running up from the main floor next the partition, or placed over it in the chamber, and running up through the center of the roof. On one side of the living room is a bedroom, 10�8 feet, with two windows. Next to this bedroom is a large closet, 8�6 feet, with one window, and shelves, and tight cupboard within. These rooms are 9 feet high, and over them is a chamber, or garret, 20�16 feet, entered by a swing step ladder, as in Design No. I. This garret is lighted by a small dormer window in the rear roof, over the shed or lean-to. A bed may be located in this chamber, or it may serve as a storage and lumber-room. The wing contains a small kitchen, in case the living room be not occupied for that purpose, 10�8 feet, lighted by a side-window, and having a small chimney in the rear wall. It may contain, also, a small closet, 3 feet square. A door passes from this small kitchen into the wood-house, which is 16�8 feet, or with its advance L, 14 feet, in the extreme outer corner of which is a water-closet, 5�3 feet; thus, altogether, giving accommodation to a family of five or six persons. The construction of this cottage is shown as of wood. Other material, either brick or stone, may be used, as most convenient, at a not much increased cost. The expense of this building may be, say fifty per cent. higher than that of No. I, according to the finish, and may be sufficiently well done and painted complete for $300; which may be reduced or increased, according to the style of finish and the taste of the builder. A cellar may be made under this cottage, which can be reached by a trap-door from the living room, opening to a flight of steps below. DESIGN III. This cottage is still in advance of No. II, in style and arrangement, and may accommodate not only the farm laborer or gardener, but will serve for a small farmer himself, or a village mechanic. It is in the French style of roof, and allied to the Italian in its brackets, and gables, and half-terraced front. The body of the cottage is 22�20 feet, with twelve-feet posts; the roof has a pitch of 50° from a horizontal line, in its straight dimensions, curving horizontally toward the eaves, which, together with the gables, project 3 feet over the walls. The terrace in front is 5 feet wide. On the rear is a wood-house, 18�16 feet in area, open at the house end, and in front, with a roof in same style as the main house, and posts, 8 feet high, standing on the ground, 2 feet below the surface of the cellar wall, which supports the main building. [Illustration: COTTAGE. Pages 221-222.] INTERIOR ARRANGEMENT. The front door opens, in the center of the front wall, into a hall, 12�8 feet, with a flight of stairs on one side, leading to the chamber above; under the stairs, at the upper end, is a passage leading beneath them into the cellar. On one side of this hall is a bedroom 8�10 feet, lighted by a window in front, and part of the hooded double window on the side. On the inner side, a door leads from the hall into the living room or kitchen, 18�12 feet. On one side of this is a bedroom, or pantry, as may be most desirable, 9�6 feet, from which leads a close closet, 3 feet square. This bedroom has a window on one side, next the hall. A door from the kitchen leads into a closet, 3 feet wide, which may contain a sink, and cupboard for kitchen wares. The living room is lighted by a part of the double hooded window on one side, and another on the rear. A door leads into the wood-house, which is 12�16 feet, in the extreme corner of which is the water-closet, 5�3 feet. The rooms in this cottage are 9 feet high. A chimney leads up from the floor of the living room, which may receive, in addition to its own fireplace, or stove, a pipe from the stove in the hall, if one is placed there. The chamber has two feet of perpendicular wall, and the sharp roof gives opportunity for two good lodging rooms, which may be partitioned off as convenience may require, each lighted by a window in the gables, and a dormer one in the roof, for the passage leading into them. The hall may serve as a pleasant sitting or dining-room, in pleasant weather, opening, as it does, on to the terrace, which is mostly sheltered by the overhanging roof. The construction of this cottage may be of either stone, brick, or wood, and produce a fine effect. Although it has neither porch, nor veranda, the broad eaves and gables give it a well-sheltered appearance, and the hooded windows on the sides throw an air of protection over them, quite agreeable to the eye. The framing of this roof is no way different, in the rafters, from those made on straight lines, but the curve and projection is given by planks cut into proper shape, and spiked into the rafters, and apparently supported by the brackets below, which should be cut from two to three-inch plank, to give them a heavy and substantial appearance. The windows are in casement form, as shown in the design, but may be changed into the ordinary sash form, if preferred, which is, in this country, usually the better way. It will be observed, that we have in all cases adopted the usual square-sided form of glass for windows, as altogether more convenient and economical in building, simple in repairing, and, we think, quite as agreeable in appearance, as those out-of-the-way shapes frequently adopted to give a more picturesque effect. In a hilly, mountainous, and evergreen country, this style of cottage is peculiarly appropriate. It takes additional character from bold and picturesque scenery, with which it is in harmony. The pine, spruce, cedar, or hemlock, or the evergreen laurel, planted around or near it, will give it increased effect, while among deciduous trees and shrubs, an occasional Lombardy poplar, and larch, will harmonize with the boldness of its outline. Even where hill or mountain scenery is wanting, plantations such as have been named, would render it a pleasing style of cottage, and give agreeable effect to its bold, sharp roof and projecting eaves. In a snowy country, the plan of roof here presented is well adapted to the shedding of heavy snows, on which it can find no protracted lodgment. Where massive stone walls enclose the estate, this style of cottage will be in character, as comporting with that strong and solid air which the rustic appearance of stone alone can give. It may, too, receive the same amount of outer decoration, in its shrubbery and plantations, given to any other style of building of like accommodation, and with an equally agreeable effect. DESIGN IV. This cottage is still in advance of the last, in its accommodation, and is suitable for the small farmer, or the more liberal cottager, who requires wider room, and ampler conveniences than are allowed by the hitherto described structures. It is a first class dwelling, of its kind, and, in its details and finish, may be adapted to a variety of occupation, while it will afford a sufficient amount of expenditure to gratify a liberal outlay, to him who chooses to indulge his taste in a moderate extent of decoration and embellishment. The ground plan of this cottage is 30�22 feet, in light rural-Gothic style, one and a half stories high, the posts 14 feet in elevation. It has two chimneys, passing out through the roof on each side of the ridge, uniformly, each with the other. The roof has a pitch of 45° from a horizontal line, giving it a bold and rather dashing appearance, and deeply sheltering the walls. The side gables give variety to the roof, and light to the chambers, and add to the finish of its appearance; while the sharp arched double window in the front gable adds character to the design. [Illustration: COTTAGE. Pages 227-228.] The deep veranda in front covers three-quarters of its surface in length, and in the symmetry of its roof, and airiness of its columns, with their light braces, give it a style of completeness; and if creeping vines or climbing shrubs be trained upon them, will produce an effect altogether rural and beautiful. Or, if a rustic style of finish be adopted, to render it cheaper in construction, the effect may still be imposing, and in harmony with the purposes to which it is designed. In fact, this model will admit of a variety of choice in finish, from the plainest to a high degree of embellishment, as the ability or fancy of the builder may suggest. INTERIOR ARRANGEMENT. From the veranda in the center of the front, a door opens into a hall, 17�7 feet, with a flight of stairs leading, in three different angles, to the chambers above. Opposite the front door is the passage into the living room, or parlor, 17�15 feet, lighted by three windows, two of which present an agreeable view of an adjacent stream and its opposite shores. At the line of partition from the hall, stands a chimney, with a fireplace, if desirable, or for a stove, to accommodate both this room and the hall with a like convenience; and under the flight of stairs adjoining opens a china closet, with spacious shelves, for the safe-keeping of household comforts. From this room, a door leads into a bedroom, 10�13 feet, lighted by a window opening into the veranda, also accommodated by a stove, which leads into a chimney at its inner partition. Next to this bedroom is the kitchen, 12�13 feet, accommodated with a chimney, where may be inserted an open fireplace, or a stove, as required. In this is a flight of back chamber and cellar stairs. This room is lighted by two windows--one in the side, another in the rear. A door leads from its rear into a large, roomy pantry, 8 feet square, situated in the wing, and lighted by a window. Next to this is a passage, 3 feet in width, leading to the wood-house, (in which the pantry just named is included,) 16�12 feet, with nine-feet posts, and roof pitched like the house, in the extreme corner of which is a water-closet, 5�3 feet. Cornering upon the wood-house beyond, is a small building, 15�12 feet, with ten-feet posts, and a roof in same style as the others--with convenience for a cow and a pig, with each a separate entrance. A flight of stairs leads to the hay-loft above the stables, in the gable of which is the hay-door; and under the stairs is the granary; and to these may be added, inside, a small accommodation for a choice stock of poultry. The chamber plan is the same as the lower floor, mainly, giving three good sleeping-rooms; that over the kitchen, being a _back_ chamber, need not have a separate passage into the upper hall, but may have a door passage into the principal chamber. The door to the front bedroom leads direct from the upper hall. Thus, accommodation is given to quite a numerous family. Closets may be placed in each of these chambers, if wanted; and the entire establishment made a most snug and compact, as well as commodious arrangement. COTTAGE OUTSIDE DECORATION. Nothing so perfectly sets off a cottage, in external appearance, as the presence of plants and shrubbery around it. A large tree or two, by giving an air of protection, is always in place; and creeping vines, and climbing shrubs about the windows and porch, are in true character; while a few low-headed trees, of various kinds, together with some simple and hardy annual and other flowers--to which should always be added, near by, a small, well-tended kitchen garden--fill up the picture. In the choice of what varieties should compose these ornaments, one can hardly be at a loss. Flanking the cottage, and near the kitchen garden, should be the fruit trees. The elm, maples, oak, and hickory, in all their varieties, black-walnut, butternut--the last all the better for its rich kernel--are every one appropriate for shade, as _large_ trees. The hop, morning-glory, running beans--all useful and ornamental as summer climbers; the clematis, bitter-sweet, ivy, any of the _climbing_ roses; the lilac, syringa, snow-ball, and the _standard_ roses; while marigolds, asters, pinks, the phloxes, peonies, and a few other of the thousand-and-one simple and charming annuals, biennials, and perennials, with now and then a gorgeous sunflower, flaunting in its broad glory, will fill up the catalogue. Rare and costly plants are not required, and indeed, are hardly in place in the grounds of an ordinary cottage, unless occupied by the professional gardener. They denote expense, which the laboring cottager cannot afford; and besides that, they detract from the simplicity of the life and purpose which not only the cottage itself, but everything around it, should express. There is an affectation of _cottage_ building, with some people who, with a seeming humility, really aim at higher flights of style in living within them, than truth of either design or purpose will admit. But as such cases are more among villagers, and those temporarily retiring from the city for summer residence, the farm cottage has little to do with it. Still, such fancies are contagious, and we have occasionally seen the ambitious cottage, with its covert expression of humility, insinuating itself on to the farm, and for the farmer's own family occupation, too, which at once spoiled, to the eye, the _substantial reality_ of the whole establishment. A farmer should discard all such things as _ornamental_ cottages. They do not belong to the farm. If he live in a cottage himself, it should be a _plain_ one; yet it may be very substantial and well finished--something showing that he means either to be content in it, in its character of plainness, or that he intends, at a future day, to build something better--when this may serve for the habitation of one of his laborers. The cottage should never occupy a principal, or prominent site on the farm. It should take a subordinate position of ground. This adds to its expression as subordinate in rank, among the lesser farm buildings. A cottage cannot, and should not aspire to be _chief_ in either position or character. Such should be the farm house proper; although unpretending, still, in style, above the cottage; and if the latter, in addition, be required on the farm, it should so appear, both in construction and finish; just what it is intended for--a tenement for economical purposes. There is another kind of cottage, the dwellers in which, these pages will probably never reach, that expresses, in its wild structure, and rude locality, the idea of Moore's pretty song-- "I knew by the smoke that so gracefully curled Above the green elms, that a cottage was near." Yet, in some parts of our country, landlords may build such, for the accommodation of tenants, which they may make useful on the outskirts of their estates, and add indirectly to their own convenience and interest in so doing. This may be indulged in, _poetically_ too--for almost any thinking man has a spice of poetry in his composition--vagabondism, a strict, economizing utilitarian would call it. The name matters not. One may as well indulge his taste in this cheap sort of charitable expenditure, as another may indulge, in his dogs, and guns, his horses and equipages--and the first is far the cheapest. They, at the west and south, understand this, whose recreations are occasionally with their hounds, in chase of the deer, and the fox, and in their pursuit spend weeks of the fall and winter months, in which they are accompanied, and assisted, as boon companions for the time, by the rude tenants of the cottages we have described: "A cheerful, simple, honest people." Another class of cottage may come within the farm enclosures, half poetical, and half economical, such as Milton describes: "Hard by a cottage chimney smokes, From betwixt two aged oaks;" and occupied by a family pensioner and his infirm old wife--we don't think _all_ "poor old folks" ought to go to the alms-house, because they cannot work _every_ day of the year--of which all long-settled families of good estate have, now and then, one near to, or upon their premises. Thousands of kind and liberal hearts among our farming and planting brethren, whose impulses are-- "Open as the day to melting charity," are familiar with the wants of those who are thus made their dependents; and in their accommodation, an eye may be kept to the producing of an agreeable effect in locating their habitations, and to rudely embellish, rather than to mar the domain on which they may be lodged. In short, cottage architecture, in its proper character, may be made as effective, in all the ornament which it should give to the farm, as that of any other structure; and if those who have occasion for the cottage will only be content to build and maintain it as it should be, and leave off that perpetual aspiration after something unnatural, and foreign to its purpose, which so many cottage builders of the day attempt, and let it stand in its own humble, secluded character, they will save themselves a world of trouble, and pass for--what they now do not--men possessing a taste for truth and propriety in their endeavors. HOUSE AND COTTAGE FURNITURE. This is a subject so thoroughly discussed in the books, of late, that anything which may here be said, would avail but little, inasmuch as our opinions might be looked upon as "old-fashioned," "out of date," and "of no account whatever,"--for wonderfully modern notions in room-furnishing have crept into the farm house, as well as into town houses. Indeed, we confess to altogether ancient opinions in regard to household furniture, and contend, that, with a few exceptions, "modern degeneracy" has reached the utmost stretch of absurdity, in house-furnishing, to which the ingenuity of man can arrive. Fashions in furniture change about as often as the cut of a lady's dress, or the shape of her bonnet, and pretty much from the same source, too--the fancy shops of Paré, once, in good old English, Paris, the capital city of France. A farmer, rich or poor, may spend half his annual income, every year of his life, in taking down old, and putting up new furniture, and be kept uncomfortable all the time; when, if he will, after a quiet, good-tempered talk with his better-half, agree with her upon the list of _necessary_ articles to make them _really comfortable_; and then a catalogue of what shall comprise the _luxurious_ part of their furnishings, which, when provided, they will fixedly make up their mind to keep, and be content with, they will remain entirely free from one great source of "the ills which flesh is heir to." It is pleasant to see a young couple setting out in their housekeeping life, well provided with convenient and properly-selected furniture, appropriate to all the uses of the family; and then to keep, and use it, and enjoy it, like contented, sensible people; adding to it, now and then, as its wear, or the increasing wants of their family may require. Old, familiar things, to which we have long been accustomed, and habituated, make up a round share of our actual enjoyment. A family addicted to constant change in their household furniture, attached to nothing, content with nothing, and looking with anxiety to the next change of fashion which shall introduce something _new_ into the house, can take no sort of comfort, let their circumstances be ever so affluent. It is a kind of dissipation in which some otherwise worthy people are prone to indulge, but altogether pernicious in the indulgence. It detracts, also, from the apparent respectability of a family to find nothing _old_ about them--as if they themselves were of yesterday, and newly dusted out of a modern shop-keeper's stock in trade. The furniture of a house ought to look as though the family within it once had a grandfather--and as if old things had some veneration from those who had long enjoyed their service. We are not about to dictate, of what fashion household furniture should be, when selected, any further than that of a plain, substantial, and commodious fashion, and that it should comport, so far as those requirements in it will admit, with the approved modes of the day. But we are free to say, that in these times the extreme of absurdity, and unfitness for _use_, is more the fashion than anything else. What so useless as the modern French chairs, standing on legs like pipe-stems, _garote_-ing your back like a rheumatism, and frail as the legs of a spider beneath you, as you sit in it; and a tribe of equally worthless incumbrances, which absorb your money in their cost, and detract from your comfort, instead of adding to it, when you have got them; or a bedstead so high that you must have a ladder to climb into it, or so low as to scarcely keep you above the level of the floor, when lying on it. No; give us the substantial, the easy, the free, and enjoyable articles, and the rest may go to tickle the fancy of those who have a taste for them. Nor do these flashy furnishings add to one's rank in society, or to the good opinion of those whose consideration is most valuable. Look into the houses of those people who are the _really_ substantial, and worthy of the land. There will be found little of such frippery with them. Old furniture, well-preserved, useful in everything, mark the well-ordered arrangement of their rooms, and give an air of quietude, of comfort, and of hospitality to their apartments. Children cling to such objects in after life, as heir-looms of affection and parental regard. Although we decline to give specific directions about what varieties of furniture should constitute the furnishings of a house, or to illustrate its style or fashion by drawings, and content ourself with the single remark, that it should, in all cases, be strong, plain, and durable--no sham, nor ostentation about it--and such as is _made for use_: mere trinkets stuck about the room, on center tables, in corners, or on the mantel-piece, are the foolishest things imaginable. They are costly; they require a world of care, to keep them in condition; and then, with all this care, they are good for nothing, in any sensible use. We have frequently been into a country house, where we anticipated better things, and, on being introduced into the "parlor," actually found everything in the furniture line so dainty and "prinked up," that we were afraid to sit down on the frail things stuck around by way of seats, for fear of breaking them; and everything about it looked so gingerly and inhospitable, that we felt an absolute relief when we could fairly get out of it, and take a place by the wide old fireplace, in the common living room, comfortably ensconced in a good old easy, high-backed, split-bottomed chair--there was positive comfort in that, when in the "parlor" there was nothing but restraint and _dis_comfort. No; leave all this vanity to town-folk, who have nothing better--or who, at least, think they have--to amuse themselves with; it has no fitness for a country dwelling, whatever. All this kind of frippery smacks of the boarding school, the pirouette, and the dancing master, and is out of character for the farm, or the sensible retirement of the country. In connection with the subject of furniture, a remark may be made on the _room_ arrangement of the house, which might, perhaps, have been more fittingly made when discussing that subject, in the designs of our houses. Some people have a marvellous propensity for introducing into their houses a _suite_ of rooms, connected by wide folding-doors, which must always be opened into each other, furnished just alike, and devoted to extraordinary occasions; thus absolutely sinking the best rooms in the house, for display half a dozen times in the year, and at the sacrifice of the every-day comfort of the family. This is nothing but a bastard taste, of the most worthless kind, introduced from the city--the propriety of which, for city life, need not here be discussed. The presence of such arrangement, in a country house, is fatal to everything like domestic enjoyment, and always followed by great expense and inconvenience. No room, in any house, should be too good for occupation by the family themselves--not every-day, and common-place--but occupation at any and all times, when convenience or pleasure demand it. If a large room be required, let the single room itself be large; not sacrifice an extra room to the occasional extension of the choicer one, as in the use of folding-doors must be done. This "parlor" may be better furnished--and so it should be--than any other room in the house. Its carpet should be not too good to tread, or stand upon, or for the children to roll and tumble upon, provided their shoes and clothes be clean. Let the happy little fellows roll and tumble on it, to their heart's content, when their mother or elder sisters are with them--for it may be, perhaps, the most joyous, and most innocent pleasure of their lives, poor things! The hearth-rug should be in keeping with the carpet, also, and no floor-cloth should be necessary to cover it, for fear of soiling; but everything free and easy, with a comfortable, inviting, hospitable look about it. Go into the houses of our great men--such as live in the country--whom God made great, not money--and see how _they_ live. We speak not of statesmen and politicians alone, but great merchants, great scholars, great divines, great mechanics, and all men who, in mind and attainments, are head and shoulder above their class in any of the walks of life, and you find no starch, or flummery about them. We once went out to the country house--he lived there all the time, for that matter--of a distinguished banker of one of our great cities, to dine, and spend the day with him. He had a small farm attached to his dwelling, where he kept his horses and cows, his pigs, and his poultry. He had a large, plain two-story cottage house, with a piazza running on three sides of it, from which a beautiful view of the neighboring city, and water, and land, was seen in nearly all directions. He was an educated man. His father had been a statesman of distinguished ability and station at home, and a diplomatist abroad, and himself educated in the highest circles of business, and of society. His wife, too, was the daughter of a distinguished city merchant, quite his equal in all the accomplishments of life. His own wealth was competent; he was the manager of millions of the wealth of others; and his station in society was of the highest. Yet, with all this claim to pretension, his house did not cost him eight thousand dollars--and he built it by "days-work," too, so as to have it faithfully done; and the furniture in it, aside from library, paintings, and statuary, never cost him three thousand. Every room in it was a plain one, not more highly finished than many a farmer's house can afford. The furniture of every kind was plain, saving, perhaps, the old family plate, and such as he had added to it, which was all substantial, and made for use. The younger children--and of these, younger and older, he had several--we found happy, healthy, cheerful, and frolicking on the carpets; and their worthy mother, in the plainest, yet altogether appropriate garb, was sitting among them, at her family sewing, and kindly welcomed us as we took our seats in front of the open, glowing fireplace. "Why, sir," we exclaimed, rubbing our hands in the comfortable glow of warmth which the fire had given--for it was a cold December day--"you are quite plain, as well as wonderfully comfortable, in your country house--quite different from your former city residence!" "To be sure we are," was the reply; "we stood it as long as we could, amid the starch and the gimcracks of ---- street, where we rarely had a day to ourselves, and the children could never _go_ into the streets but they must be tagged and tasselled, in their dress, into all sorts of discomfort, merely for the sake of appearance. So, after standing it as long as we could, my wife and I determined we would try the country, for a while, and see what we could make of it. We kept our town-house, into which we returned for a winter or two; but gave it up for a permanent residence here, with which we are perfectly content. We see here all the friends we want to see; we all enjoy ourselves, and the children are healthy and happy." And this is but a specimen of thousands of families in the enjoyment of country life, including the families of men in the highest station, and possessed of sufficient wealth. Why, then, should the farmer ape the fashion, and the frivolity of the butterflies of town life, or permit his family to do it? It is the sheerest possible folly in him to do so. Yet, it is a folly into which many are imperceptibly gliding, and which, if not reformed, will ultimately lead to great discomfort to themselves, and ruin to their families. Let thoughtless people do as they choose. Pay no attention to their extravagance; but watch them for a dozen years, and see how they come out in their fashionable career; and observe the fate of their families, as they get "established" in the like kind of life. He who keeps aloof from such temptation, will then have no cause to regret that he has maintained his own steady course of living, and taught his sons and daughters that a due attention to their own comfort, with economical habits in everything relating to housekeeping, will be to their lasting benefit in future. But, we have said enough to convey the ideas in house-furnishing we would wish to impart; and the reader will do as he, or she, no doubt, would have done, had we not written a word about it--go and select such as may strike their own fancy. We received, a day or two since, a letter from a person at the west, entirely unknown to us, whose ideas so entirely correspond with our own, that we give it a place, as showing that a proper taste _does_ prevail among many people in this country, in regard to buildings, and house-furnishings; and which we trust he will pardon us for publishing, as according entirely with our own views, in conclusion: ----, ----, Ill., Dec. 18, 1851. DEAR SIR,--I received, a few days since, a copy of the first number of a periodical called the "Plough," into which is copied the elevation of a design for a farm house, purporting to be from a forthcoming work of yours, entitled "Rural Architecture." Although a perfect stranger to you, you will perhaps allow me to make one or two suggestions. I have seen no work yet, which seems fully to meet the wants of our country people in the matter of furniture. After having built their houses, they need showing how to furnish them in the cheapest, most neat, comfortable, convenient, and substantial manner. The furniture should be designed for use, not merely for show. I would have it plain, but not coarse--just enough for the utmost convenience, but nothing superfluous. The articles of furniture figured, and partially described in the late works on those subjects, are mostly of too elaborate and expensive a cast to be generally introduced into our country houses. There is too much _nabobery_ about them to meet the wants, or suit the taste of the plain American farmer. As to out-houses--the barn, stable, carriage and wagon-house, tool-house, piggery, poultry-house, corn-crib, and granary, (to say nothing of the "rabbit-warren" and "dovecote,")--are necessary appendages of the farm house. Now, as cheapness is one great desideratum with nearly all our new beginners in this western region, it seems to me, that such plans as will conveniently include the greatest number of these under the same roof, will be best suited to their necessities. I do not mean to be understood that, for the sake of the first cost, we should pay no regard to the appearance, or that we should slight our work, or suffer it to be constructed of flimsy or perishable materials: we should not only have an eye to taste and durability, but put in practice the most strict economy. I hope, in the above matters, you may be able to furnish something better suited to the necessities and means of our plain farmers, than has been done by any of your predecessors. I remain, &c., most respectfully yours, ----, ----. Having completed the series of Designs for dwelling houses, which we had proposed for this work, and followed them out with such remarks as were thought fitting to attend them, we now pass on to the second part of our subject: the out-buildings of the farm, in which are to be accommodated the domestic animals which make up a large item of its economy and management; together with other buildings which are necessary to complete its requirements. We trust that they will be found to be such as the occasion, and the wants of the farmer may demand; and in economy, accommodation, and extent, be serviceable to those for whose benefit they are designed. AN APIARY, OR BEE-HOUSE. Every farmer should keep bees--provided he have pasturage for them, on his own land, or if a proper range for their food and stores lie in his immediate vicinity. Bees are, beyond any other domestic _stock_, economical in their keeping, to their owners. Still they require care, and that of no inconsiderable kind, and skill, in their management, not understood by every one who attempts to rear them. They ask no food, they require no assistance, in gathering their daily stores, beyond that of proper housing in the cheapest description of tenement, and with that they are entirely content. Yet, without these, they are a contingent, and sometimes a troublesome appendage to the domestic stock of the farm. We call them _domestic_. In one sense they are so; in another, they are as wild and untamed as when buzzing and collecting their sweets in the vineyard of Timnath, where the mighty Sampson took their honey from the carcass of the dead lion; or, as when John the Baptist, clothed with camel's hair, ate "locusts and wild honey" in the arid wastes of Palestine. Although kept in partial bondage for six thousand years, the ruling propensity of the bee is to seek a home and shelter in the forest, when it emerges in a swarm from the parent hive; and no amount of domestic accommodation, or kindness of treatment, will induce it willingly to migrate from its nursery habitation to another by its side, although provided with the choicest comforts to invite its entrance. It will soon fly to the woods, enter a hollow and dilapidated tree, and carve out for itself its future fortunes, amid a world of labor and apparent discomfort. The bee, too, barring its industry, patience, and sweetened labors, is an arrant thief--robbing its nearest neighbors, with impunity, when the strongest, and mercilessly slaughtering its weaker brethren, when standing in the way of its rapacity. It has been extolled for its ingenuity, its patience, its industry, its perseverance, and its virtue. Patience, industry, and perseverance it has, beyond a doubt, and in a wonderful degree; but ingenuity, and virtue, it has none, more than the spider, who spins his worthless web, or the wasp, who stings you when disturbing his labors. Instinct, the bee has, like all animals; but of kind feeling, and gratitude, it has nothing; and with all our vivid nursery remembrance of good Doctor Watts' charming little hymn-- "How doth the little busy bee," &c. &c., we have long ago set it down as incorrigible to kind treatment, or charitable sympathy, and looked upon it simply as a thing to be treated kindly for the sake of its labors, and as composing one of that delightful family of domestic objects which make our homes attractive, pleasant, and profitable. The active labors of the bee, in a bright May or June morning, as they fly, in their busy order, back and forth from their hives, or the soothing hum of their playful hours, in a summer's afternoon, are among the most delightful associations of rural life; and as a luxury to the sight, and the ear, they should be associated with every farmer's home, and with every laborer's cottage, when practicable. And as their due accommodation is to be the object of our present writing, a plan is presented for that object. In many of the modern structures held out for imitation, the bee-house, or apiary, is an expensive, pretentious affair, got up in an ambitious way, with efforts at style, in the semblance of a temple, a pagoda, or other absurdity, the very appearance of which frightens the simple bee from its propriety, and in which we never yet knew a colony of them to become, and remain successful. The insect is, as we have observed, wild and untamable--a savage in its habits, and rude in its temper. It rejects all cultivated appearances, and seeks only its own temporary convenience, together with comfortable room for its stores, and the increase of its kind; and therefore, the more rustic and simple its habitation, the better is it pleased with its position. [Illustration: APIARY.] The bee-house should front upon a sheltered and sunny aspect. It should be near the ground, in a clean and quiet spot, free from the intrusion of other creatures, either human or profane, and undisturbed by noisome smells, and uncouth sounds--for it loathes all these instinctively, and loves nothing so much as the wild beauty of nature itself. The plan here presented is of the plainest and least expensive kind. Nine posts, or crutches, are set into the ground sufficiently deep to hold them firm, and to secure them from heaving out by the frost. The distance of these posts apart may be according to the size of the building, and to give it strength enough to resist the action of the wind. The front posts should be 9 feet high, above the ground; the rear posts should be 7 feet--that a man, with his hat on, may stand upright under them--and 6 feet from the front line. The two end posts directly in the rear of the front corner posts, should be 3 feet back from them, and on a line to accommodate the pitch of the roof from the front to the rear. A light plate is to be fitted on the top line of the front posts; a plate at each end should run back to the posts in rear, and then another cross-plate, or girt, from each one of these middle posts, to the post in rear of all, to meet the plate which surmounts this rear line of posts; and a parallel plate, or rafter, should be laid from the two intermediate posts at the ends, to connect them, and for a central support to the roof. Intermediate central posts should also be placed opposite those in front, to support the central plate, and not exceeding 12 feet apart. A shed roof, of boards, or shingles, tightly laid, should cover the whole, sufficiently projecting over the front, rear, and sides, to give the house abundant shelter, and make it architecturally agreeable to the eye--say 12 to 18 inches, according to its extent. A corner board should drop two feet below the plate, with such finish, by way of ornament, as may be desirable. The ends should be tightly boarded up against the weather, from bottom to top. The rear should also be tightly boarded, from the bottom up to a level with the stand inside, for the hives, and from 15 to 18 inches above that to the roof. Fitted into the space thus left in the rear, should be a light, though substantial, swing door, hung from the upper boarding, made in sections, extending from one post to the other, as the size of the house may determine, and secured with hooks, or buttons, as may be convenient. The outside of the structure is thus completed. The inside arrangement for the hives, may be made in two different ways, as the choice of the apiarian may govern in the mode in which his hives are secured. The most usual is the _stand_ method, which may be made thus: At each angle, equidistant, say 18 to 24 inches, inside, from the rear side and ends of the building--as shown in the ground plan--and opposite to each rear and end post, suspend perpendicularly a line of stout pieces of two-inch plank, 4 inches wide, well spiked on to the rafters above, reaching down within two feet of the ground--which is to hold up the bottom of the stand on which the hives are to rest. From each bottom end of these suspended strips, secure another piece of like thickness and width, horizontally back to the post in rear of it, at the side and ends. Then, lengthwise the building, and turning the angles at the ends, and resting on these horizontal pieces just described, lay other strips, 3�2 inches, set edgewise--one in front, and another in rear, inside each post and suspended strip, and close to it, and secured by heavy nails, so that there shall be a double line of these strips on a level, extending entirely around the interior, from the front at each end. This forms the hanging frame-work for the planks or boards on which the hives are to rest. Now for the hives. First, let as many pieces of sound one and a half, or two-inch plank as you have hives to set upon them, be cut long enough to reach from the boarding on the rear and ends of the building, to one inch beyond, and projecting over the front of the outer strip last described. Let these pieces of plank be well and smoothly planed, and laid lengthwise across the aforesaid strips, not less than four inches apart from each other--if a less number of hives be in the building than it will accommodate at four inches apart, no matter how far apart they may be--these pieces of plank are the _ferms_ for the hives, on which they are to sit. And, as we have for many years adopted the plan now described, with entire success, a brief description is given of our mode of hive, and the process for obtaining the surplus honey. We say surplus, for destroying the bees to obtain their honey, is a mode not at all according to our notions of economy, or mercy; and we prefer to take that honey only which the swarm may make, after supplying their own wants, and the stores for their increasing family. This process is given in the report of a committee of gentlemen appointed by the New York State Agricultural Society, on a hive which we exhibited on that occasion, with the following note attached, at their show at Buffalo, in 1848: "I have seen, examined, and used several different plans of _patent_ hive, of which there are probably thirty invented, and used, more or less. I have found all which I have ever seen, unsatisfactory, not carrying out in full, the benefits claimed for them. "The bee works, and lives, I believe, solely by instinct. I do not consider it an inventive, or very ingenious insect. To succeed well, its accommodations should be of the _simplest_ and _securest_ form. Therefore, instead of adopting the complicated plans of many of the patent hives, I have made, and used a simple box, like that now before you, containing a cube of one foot square _inside_--made of one and a quarter inch sound pine plank, well jointed and planed on all sides, and put together perfectly tight at the joints, with white lead ground in oil, and the inside of the hive at the bottom champered off to three-eighths of an inch thick, with a door for the bees in front, of four inches long by three-eighths of an inch high. I do this, that there may be a thin surface to come in contact with the shelf on which they rest, thus preventing a harbor for the bee-moth. (I have never used a patent hive which would exclude the bee-moth, nor any one which would so well do it as this, having never been troubled with that scourge since I used this tight hive.) On the top of the hive, an inch or two from the front, is made a passage for the bees, of an inch wide, and six to eight inches long, to admit the bees into an upper hive for surplus honey, (which passage is covered, when no vessel for that purpose is on the top.) For obtaining the honey, I use a common ten or twelve-quart water pail, inverted, with the bail turned over, in which the bees deposit their surplus, like the sample before you. The pail will hold about twenty pounds of honey. This is simple, cheap, and expeditious; the pail costing not exceeding twenty-five cents, is taken off in a moment, the bail replaced, and the honey ready for transportation, or market, and _always in place_. If there is time for more honey to be made, (my bees made two pails-full in succession this year,) another pail can be put on at once. "Such, gentlemen, in short, is my method. I have kept bees about twenty years. I succeed better on this plan than with any other." In addition to this, our hives are painted white, or other light color, on the outside, to protect them from warping, and as a further security against the bee-moth, or miller, which infests and destroys so many carelessly-made hives, as to discourage the efforts of equally careless people in keeping them. Inside the hive, on each end, we fasten, by shingle nails, about half-way between the bottom and top, a small piece of half-inch board, about the size of a common window button, and with a like notch in it, set upward, but stationary, on which, when the hive is to receive the swarm, a stick is laid across, to support the comb as it is built, from falling in hot weather. At such time, also, when new, and used for the first time, the under-side of the top is scratched with the tines of a table fork, or a nail, so as to make a rough surface, to which the new comb can be fastened. In addition to the pails on the top of the hives, to receive the surplus honey, we sometimes use a flat box, the size of the hive in diameter, and six or seven inches high _inside_, which will hold twenty-five to thirty pounds of honey. The pails we adopted as an article of greater convenience for transporting the honey. The other plan of arranging the hives alluded to, is suspending them between the strips before described, by means of _cleats_ secured on to the front and rear sides of the hive, say two-thirds the way up from the bottom. In such case, the strips running lengthwise the house must be brought near enough together to receive the hives as hung by the _cleats_, and the bottom boards, or forms, must be much smaller than those already described, and hung with wire hooks and staples to the sides, with a button on the rear, to close up, or let them down a sufficient distance to admit the air to pass freely across them, and up into the hive--Weeks' plan, in fact, for which he has a patent, together with some other fancied improvements, such as chambers to receive the boxes for the deposit of surplus honey. This, by the way, is the best "patent" we have seen; and Mr. Weeks having written an ingenious and excellent treatise on the treatment of the bee, we freely recommend his book to the attention of every apiarian who wishes to succeed in their management. As a rule, we have no confidence in _patent_ hives. We have seen scores of them, of different kinds, have tried several of great pretension to sundry virtues--such as excluding moths, and other marvelous benefits--and, after becoming the victim of bee empirics to the tune of many a dollar, have thrown aside the gimcracks, and taken again to a common-sense method of keeping our bees, as here described. The bees themselves, we feel bound to say, seem to hold these patent-right habitations in quite as sovereign contempt as ourself, reluctantly going into them, and getting out of them at the first safe opportunity. But, as a treatise on bee-keeping is not a part of this present work, we must, for further information, commend the inquirer on that subject to some of the valuable treatises extant, on so prolific a subject, among which we name those of Bevan, Weeks, and Miner. The bee-house should be thoroughly whitewashed _inside_ every spring, and kept clean of cobwebs, wasp's nests, and vermin; and it may be painted outside, a soft and agreeable color, in keeping with the other buildings of the farm. Its premises should be clean, and sweet. The grass around should be kept mowed close. Low trees, or shrubbery, should stand within a few yards of it, that the new swarms may light upon them when coming out, and not, for want of such settling places, be liable to loss from flying away. It should, also, be within sight and hearing, and at no great distance from a continually-frequented room in the dwelling--perhaps the kitchen, if convenient, that, in their swarming season, they may be secured as they leave the parent hive. The apiary is a beautiful object, with its busy tenantry; and to the invalid, or one who loves to look upon God's tiny creatures, it may while away many an agreeable hour, in watching their labors--thus adding pleasure to profit. The cost of a bee-house, on the plan given, may be from ten to fifty dollars, according to the price of material, and the amount of labor expended upon it. It should not be an expensive structure, in any event, as its purpose does not warrant it. If a gimcrack affair be wanted, for the purposes of ornament, or expense, any sum of money may be squandered upon it which the fancy of its builder may choose to spare. AN ICE-HOUSE. Among the useful and convenient appendages to the farm and country family establishment, is the ice-house. Different from the general opinion which prevailed in our country before ice became so important an article of commerce, and of home consumption, the building which contains it should stand above-ground, instead of below it. And the plainer and more simple it can be constructed, the better. The position of the ice-house may be that which is most convenient to the dwelling, or to the wants of those who use it. If it can be placed beneath the shade of trees, it will so far be relieved from the influence of the sun; but it should be so constructed that sunshine will not affect the ice within it, even if it stand unsheltered; and as it has, by the ice-merchants of our eastern cities, who put up large quantities for exportation abroad, and others in the interior, who furnish ice in quantity for home consumption, been proved to be altogether the better plan to build the ice-house entirely above ground, we shall present no other mode of construction than this. It may be added, that five years' experience with one of our own building, has confirmed our opinion of the superiority of this over any other plan which may be adopted. The design here presented is of the most economical kind, yet sufficiently ornamental to make it an agreeable appendage to any family establishment. The size may be 12 feet square--less than that would be too small for keeping ice well--and from that up to any required extent. The idea here given is simply the _principle_ of construction. The posts should be full eight feet high above the ground, to where the plate of the roof is attached, and built thus: [Illustration: ICE-HOUSE.] Mark out your ground the size you require for the house; then, commencing at one corner, dig, opposite each other, a double set of holes, one foot deep, and two and a half feet apart, on each side of the intended building, say three feet equidistant, so that when the posts stand up they will present a double set, one and a half feet apart. Then set in your posts, which should be of oak, chestnut, or some lasting wood, and pack the earth firmly around them. If the posts are sawed, they may be 4�6 inches in size, set edgeways toward each other. If not sawed, they may be round sticks cut from the woods, or split from the body of a tree, quartered--but sizable, so as to appear decent--and the insides facing each other as they stand up, lined to a surface to receive the planking. Of course, when the posts are set in the ground, they are to show a square form, or skeleton of what the building is to be when completed. When this is done, square off the top of each post to a level, all round; then frame, or spike on to each line of posts a plate, say six inches wide, and four to six inches deep, and stay the two plates together strongly, so as to form a double frame. Now, plank, or board up closely the _inside_ of each line of posts, that the space between them shall be a fair surface. Cut out, or leave out a space for a door in the center of the side where you want it, two and a half or three feet wide, and six and a half feet high, and board up the inner partition sides of this opening, so as to form a door-casing on each side, that the space between the two lines of posts may be a continuous box all around. Then fill up this space between the posts with moist tan-bark, or saw-dust, well packed from the ground up to the plates; and the body of the house is inclosed, sun-proof, and air-proof, to guard the ice. Now lay down, inside the building, some sticks--not much matter what, so that they be level--and on them lay loose planks or boards, for a floor. Cover this floor with a coating of straw, a foot thick, and it is ready to receive the ice. For the roof, take common 3�4 joists, as rafters; or, in place of them, poles from the woods, long enough, in a pitch of full 35° from a horizontal line, to carry the roof at least four feet over the outside of the plates, and secure the rafters well, by pins or spikes, to them. Then board over and shingle it, leaving a small aperture at the top, through which run a small pipe, say eight inches in diameter--a stove-crock will do--for a ventilator. Then set in, 4 little posts, say two feet high--as in the design--throw a little four-sided, pointed cap on to the top of these posts, and the roof is done. If you want to ornament the under side of the roof, in a rude way--and we would advise it--take some pieces of 3�4 scantling, such as were used for the roof, if the posts are of sawed stuff--if not, rough limbs of trees from the woods, to match the rough posts of the same kind, and fasten them to the posts and the under side of the roof, by way of brackets, as shown in the design. When the ice is put into the house, a close floor of boards should be laid on joists, which rest on the plates, loosely, so that this floor can be removed when putting in ice, and that covered five or six inches deep with tan, or saw-dust--straw will do, if the other can not be had--and the inside arrangement is complete. Two doors should be attached to the opening, where the ice is put in and taken out; one on the inner side of the lining, and the other on the outer side, both opening out. Tan, saw-dust, or straw should also be placed on the top of the ice, when put in, so as to keep the air from it as much as possible; and as the ice is removed, it will settle down upon, and still preserve it. Care must be taken to have a drain under the floor of the house, to pass off the water which melts from the ice, as it would, if standing there, injure its keeping. It will be seen, that, by an error in the cut of the ground plan, the inside line of posts does not show, as in the outer line, which they should do; nor is the outside door inserted, as is shown in the elevation. These defects, however, will be rectified by the builder. We have given considerable thought to this subject, and can devise no shape to the building more appropriate than this, nor one cheaper in construction. It may be built for fifty to a hundred dollars, according to the cost of material and labor, and the degree of finish given to it. It is hardly worth while to expatiate upon the convenience and economy of an ice-house, to an American. Those who love well-kept meats, fruits, butter, milk, and various etceteras for the table, understand its utility well; to say nothing of the cooling draughts, in the way of drinks, in hot weather, to which it adds--when not taken to extremes--such positive luxury. We commend the ice-house, _well-filled_, most heartily, to every good country housekeeper, as a matter of convenience, economy, and luxury, adding next to nothing to the living expenses, and, as an appendage to the main buildings, an item of little cost, and a considerable degree of ornament. If an under-ground ice-house be preferred to the plan here shown, a side hill, or bank, with a northerly exposure, is the best location for it; and the manner of building should be mainly like this, for the body of the house. The roof, however, should be only two-sided, and the door for putting in and taking out the ice may be in the gable, on the ground level. The drainage under the floor, and precautions for keeping the ice, should be quite as thorough as we have described; as, otherwise, the earth surrounding it on three sides, at least, of the house, will be a ready conductor of warmth, and melt the ice with great rapidity. If the under-ground plan is adopted, but little more than the roof will show, and of course, be of little ornament in the way of appearance. THE ASH-HOUSE AND SMOKE-HOUSE. These two objects may, both for convenience and economy, be well combined under one roof; and we have thus placed them in connection. The building is an exceedingly simple structure, made of stone, or brick; the body 10 feet high, and of such size as may be desirable, with a simple roof, and a plain, hooded chimney. [Illustration: ASH HOUSE AND SMOKE HOUSE.] In the ground plan will be seen a brick, or stone partition--which may extend to such height as may be necessary to contain the bulk of ashes required for storage within it--on one side of the building, to which a door gives access. The opposite side, and overhead, is devoted to the smoke-house, in which the various girts and hooks may be placed, for sustaining the meats to be smoked. The building should be tied together by joists at the plates, properly anchored into the walls, to prevent their spreading. A stove, or pans, or neither, as the method of keeping the smoke alive may govern, can be placed inside, to which the chimney in the roof may serve as a partial escape, or not, as required. The whole process is so simple, and so easily understood, that further explanation is unnecessary. A great advantage that a house of this construction has, is the convenience of storing the smoked meats for an indefinite time, even through the whole season, keeping them dark, dry, and cool; and permitting, at any time, a smoke to be made, to drive out the flies, if they find their way into it. The ashes can, of course, be removed at any time, by the door at which they are thrown in. THE POULTRY-HOUSE. As poultry is an indispensable appendage to the farm, in all cases, the poultry-house is equally indispensable, for their accommodation, and for the most profitable management of the fowls themselves, and most convenient for the production of their eggs and young. Indeed, without well-arranged quarters for the fowls of the farm, they are exceedingly troublesome, and of doubtful profit; but with the proper buildings devoted to them exclusively, they become one of the most interesting and agreeable objects with which either the farm or the country house is associated. It is hardly worth while to eulogize poultry. Their merits and virtues are written in the hearts of all provident housekeepers; and their beauty and goodness are familiar to every son and daughter of the rural homestead. We shall, then, proceed at once to discuss their proper accommodation, in the cheapest and most familiar method with which we are acquainted. The hen-house--for hens (barn-door fowls, we mean) are the first and chief stock, of the kind, to be provided for, and with them most of the other varieties can be associated--should be located in a warm, sheltered, and sunny place, with abundant grounds about it, where they can graze--hens eat grass--and scratch, and enjoy themselves to their heart's content, in all seasons, when the ground is open and they _can_ scratch into, or range over its surface. Some people--indeed, a good many people--picket in their gardens, to keep hens _out_; but we prefer an enclosure to keep the hens _in_, at all seasons when they are troublesome, which, after all, is only during short seasons of the year, when seeds are planted, or sown, and grain and vegetables are ripening. Otherwise, they may range at will, on the farm, doing good in their destruction of insects, and deriving much enjoyment to themselves; for hens, on the whole, are happy things. [Illustration: POULTRY LAWN.] We here present the elevation of a poultry-house in perspective, to show the _principle_ which we would adopt in its construction, and which may be extended to any required length, and to which may be added any given area of ground, or yard-room, which the circumstances of the proprietor may devote to it. It is, as will be seen, of a most rustic appearance, and built as cheaply, yet thoroughly, as the subject may require. Its length, we will say, is 20 feet, its breadth 16, and its height 10 feet, made of posts set into the ground--for we do not like sills, and floors of wood, because rats are apt to burrow under them, which are their worst enemies--and boarded up, either inside or outside, as in the case of the ice-house previously described, though not double. Plates are laid on these posts, to connect them firmly together; and the rafters rest on the plates, as usual. The chamber floor is 9 feet high, above the ground, and may be used either for laying purposes by the fowls, or reserved as a storage-room for their feed. The roof is broadly drawn over the body of the building, to shelter it, and through the point of the roof, in the center, is a ventilator, with a covered top, and a vane significant of its purpose. It is also sufficiently lighted, with glass windows, into which our draughtsman has put the diamond-paned glass, contrary to our notions; but, as he had, no doubt, an eye to the "picturesque," we let it pass, only remarking, that if we were building the house on our own account, there should be no such nonsense about it. The front windows are large, to attract the warmth of the winter's sun. A section of picket fence is also attached, and trees in the rear--both of which are necessary to a complete establishment; the first, to secure the poultry in the contiguous yards, and the trees to give them shade, and even roosting-places, if they prefer such lodgings in warm weather--for which we consider them eminently wholesome. The wooden floor is dispensed with, as was remarked, to keep rid of the vermin. If the ground be gravelly, or sandy, it will be sufficiently dry. If a heavy or damp soil be used, it should be under-drained, which will effectually dry it, and be better for the fowls than a floor of either wood, brick, or stone. Doors of sufficient size can be made on the yard sides of the house, near the ground, for the poultry to enter either the living or roosting apartments, at pleasure, and hung with butts on the upper side, to be closed when necessary. INTERIOR ARRANGEMENT. The front door opens into the main living room. At each end, and in the rear, are tiers of boxes, one foot wide, one and a half feet long, and one and a half feet high--the lowest tier elevated two feet above the ground--and built one tier above the other, and snugly partitioned between, with a hole at one corner of each, ten inches high, and eight inches wide, for passing in to them; and a shelf, or passage-board, nine inches wide, in front. These are the nesting boxes, and should be kept supplied with short, soft straw, or hay orts, for that purpose. Hens love secrecy in their domestic economy, and are wonderfully pleased with the opportunity to hide away, and conceal themselves while laying. Indeed, such concealment, or the supposition of it, we have no doubt promotes fecundity, as it is well known that a hen _can_ stop laying, almost at pleasure, when disturbed in her regular habits and settled plans of life. Burns says-- "The best laid schemes of _mice_ and _men_ Gang aft agley;" and why not hen's? We think so. If turkeys be kept in the premises, the females can also be accommodated in these boxes, as they are fond of laying in company with the hens, and frequently in the same nests, only that they require larger entrances into them; or, a tier of boxes may be made on the ground, for their convenience. A door leads from the rear of this room into the roosting apartment, through which is a passage to the back side of the building, and a door opposite, leading out into the yard. On each side of this passage are roosts, rising, each behind and above the other, 18 inches apart. The lowest roosts may be three feet from the ground, and the highest six feet, that they may easily fly from one to the other; and in this way they may all be approached, to catch the fowls, when required. For the roosts, slender poles, two to three inches in diameter--small trees, cut from the woods, with the bark on, are the best--may be used; and they should be secured through augur holes in board slats suspended from the floor joists overhead. This apartment should be cleaned out as often as once a fortnight, both for cleanliness and health--for fowls like to be clean, and to have pure air. A flight of stairs may be made in one corner of the front room, to go into the chamber, if preferred; but a swing ladder, hung by one end, with hinges, to the joists above, is, for such purpose, a more cleanly mode of access; which, when not in use, may be hooked up to the under side of the floor above; and a trap door, shutting into the chamber floor, and also hung on hinges, will accommodate the entrance. For feeding troughs, we have seen many ingenious contrivances, and among them, possibly, a Yankee patent, or two; but all these we put aside, as of little account. A common segar box, or any other cast-off thing, that will hold their food, is just as good as the most complicated invention; and, in common feeding, there is no better mode than to scatter abroad their corn, and let them pick it up at their pleasure--when spread on a clean surface. We think, also, that, except for fattening poultry, stated hours of feeding are best for the birds themselves, and that they be fed only such quantity as they will pick up clean. Water should, if possible, be kept constantly by them; and if a small running stream could pass through the yard, all the better. If it be desirable to have fresh eggs during winter--and that is certainly a convenience--a box stove may be set in the living room, and properly protected by a grating around it, for warming the living apartment. It may be remarked, however, that this winter-laying of hens is usually a _forcing_ business. A hen will lay but about a given number of eggs in a year; say a hundred--we believe this is about the number which the most observant of poultry-keepers allow them--and what she lays in winter must be subtracted from the number she would otherwise lay in the spring, summer, or autumn. Yet a warm house will, laying, aside, keep the fowls with less food, and in greater comfort, than if cold, and left to their own natural warmth. There is usually little difficulty in keeping hens, turkies, ducks, and geese together, in the same inclosure, during winter and early spring, before the grass grows. But geese and turkies require greater range during the warm season than the others, and should have it, both for convenience to themselves and profit to their owners. For winter quarters, low shelters may be made for the water-fowls in the yards, and the turkies will frequently prefer to share the shelter of the hens, on the roosts in the house. Guinea-hens--cruel, vindictive things, as they are--should never be allowed within a common poultry yard. Always quarrelsome, and never quiet, they should take to the farmyard, with the cattle, where they may range at will, and take their amusement in fisticuffs with each other, at pleasure. Neither should peacocks be allowed to come into the poultry inclosures, during the breeding season; they are anything but amiable in their manners to other birds. With the care and management of the poultry department, after thus providing for their accommodation, it is not our province to interfere; that is a subject too generally understood, to require further remark. Nor need we discuss the many varieties of poultry which, at the present time, so arrest the attention of many of our good country people; and we will leave so important a subject to the meditations of the "New England Poultry Society," who have taken the gallinaceous, and other tribes under their special cognizance, and will, doubtless, in due time, illumine the world with various knowledge in this department of rural economy, not yet "dreamt of in our philosophy." The recently published poultry books, too, with an amplitude and particularity in the discussion of the different breeds and varieties, which shuts all suspicions of _self-interest_ into the corner, have given such a fund of information on the subject, that any further inquiry may, with entire good will, be turned over to their pages. THE DOVECOTE. This is a department, in itself, not common among the farm buildings, in the United States; and for the reason, probably, that the domestic pigeon, or house-dove, is usually kept more for amusement than for profit--there being little actual profit about them--and is readily accommodated in the spare lofts of sheds and out-buildings devoted to other purposes. Pigeons, however, add to the variety and interest of the poultry department; and as there are many different breeds of them, they are general favorites with the juveniles of the family. Our present object is, not to propose any distinct building for pigeon accommodation; but to give them a location in other buildings, where they will be conveniently provided with room, and least annoying by their presence--for, be it known, they are oft-times a most serious annoyance to many crops of the farm, when kept in any considerable numbers, as well as in the waste and havoc they make in the stores of the barns and granaries. Although graceful and beautiful birds, generally clean and tidy in their personal habits out of doors, they are the filthiest housekeepers imaginable, and no building can be especially devoted to their use, if not often swept and cleaned, but what will soon become an intolerable nuisance within, and not much better without, and the ground immediately around the premises a dirty place. The common pigeon is a pugnacious cavalier, warring apparently upon mere punctilio, as we have often seen, in the distant strut-and-coo of a stranger bird to his mate, even if she be the very incarnation of "rejected addresses." On all these accounts, we would locate--unless a small and select family of fancy birds, perhaps--the pigeon stock at the principal farm-yard, and in the lofts of the cattle sheds, or the chambers of the stable. Wherever the pigeon accommodations are designed to be, a close partition should separate their quarters from the room occupied for other purposes, with doors for admission to those who have to do with them, in cleaning their premises, or to take the birds, when needed. A line of holes, five inches high, and four inches wide--the top of the hole slightly arched--should be made, say 18 inches apart, for the distance of room they are to occupy in the building. A foot above the top of these, another line may be made; and so on, tiering them up to the height intended to devote to them. A line of shelves, or lighting-boards, six to eight inches wide, should then be placed one inch below the bottom of these holes, and firmly braced beneath, and nailed to the weather-boarding of the house. Inside, a range of box should be made, of corresponding length with the line of holes, to embrace every entrance from the outside, 18 inches wide, and partitioned equidistant between each entrance, so as to give a square box of 18 inches to each pair of birds. The bottom board of each ascending tier of boxes will, of course, be the top of the boxes below, and these must be made _perfectly tight_, to prevent the offal of the upper ones from falling through, to the annoyance of their neighbors below. The back of these boxes should have a line of swing doors, hung with butts, or hinges, from the top, and fastened with buttons, or hooks, at the bottom, to allow admission, or examination, at any time, to those who have the care of them. This plan of door is indispensable, to clean them out--which should be done as often as once a week, or fortnight, at farthest--and to secure the birds as they may be wanted for the table, or other purposes--for it will be recollected that squabs, just feathered out, are considered a delicious dish, at the most sumptuous tables. It will be understood, that these boxes above described, are within a partitioned room, with a floor, in their rear, with sufficient space for the person in charge of them to pass along, and to hold the baskets, or whatever is to receive the offal of their boxes, as it is taken out. This offal is valuable, as a highly stimulating manure, and is sought for by the morocco tanners, at a high price--frequently at twenty-five cents a bushel. As pigeons are prolific breeders, laying and hatching six or seven times a year, and in warm climates oftener, they require a good supply of litter--short cut, soft straw is the best--which should be freely supplied at every new incubation, and the old litter removed. The boxes, too, should be in a warm place, snugly made, and well sheltered from the wind and driving storms; for pigeons, although hardy birds when grown, should be well protected while young. The common food of the pigeon is grain, of almost any kind, and worms, and other insects, which they pick up in the field. On the whole, they are a pleasant bird, when they can be conveniently kept, and are worth the trifling cost that their proper housing may demand. If our opinion were asked, as to the best, and least troublesome kind of pigeon to be kept, we should say, the finest and most hardy of the common kind, which are usually found in the collections throughout the country. But there are many _fancy_ breeds--such as the fan-tail, the powter, the tumbler, the ruffler, and perhaps another variety or two--all pretty birds, and each distinct in their appearance, and in some of their domestic habits. The most beautiful of the pigeon kind, however, is the Carrier. They are the very perfection of grace, and symmetry, and beauty. Their colors are always brilliant and changing, and in their flight they cleave the air with a rapidity which no other variety--indeed, which scarce any other bird, of any kind, can equal. History is full of examples of their usefulness, in carrying tidings from one country to another, in letters, or tokens, fastened to their necks or legs, for which they are trained by those who have thus used them; but which, now, the well known telegraph wire has nearly superseded. All these fancy breeds require great care in their management, to keep them pure in blood, as they will all mix, more or less, with the common pigeon, as they come in contact with them; and the selection of whatever kind is wanted to be kept, must be left to those who are willing to bestow the pains which their necessary care may demand. A PIGGERY. The hog is an animal for which we have no especial liking, be he either a tender suckling, nosing and tugging at the well-filled udder of his dam, or a well-proportioned porker, basking in all the plenitude of swinish luxury; albeit, in the use of his flesh, we affect not the Jew, but liking it moderately well, in its various preparations, as a substantial and savory article of diet. Still, the hog is an important item of our agricultural economy, and his production and proper treatment is a valuable study to all who rear him as a creature either of profit or convenience. In the western and southern states, a mild climate permits him to be easily reared and fed off for market, with little heed to shelter or protection; while in the north, he requires care and covering during winter. Not only this; in all places the hog is an unruly, mischievous creature, and has no business really in any other place than where he can he controlled, and kept at a moment's call. But, as tastes and customs differ essentially, with regard to his training and destiny, to such as agree with us in opinion, that his proper place is in the sty, particularly when feeding for pork, a plan of piggery is given, such as may be economical in construction, and convenient in its arrangement, both for the swine itself, and him who has charge of him. The design here given, is for a building, 36 feet long, and 24 feet wide, with twelve-feet posts; the lower, or living room for the swine, 9 feet high, and a storage chamber above, for the grain and other food required for his keeping. The roof has a pitch of 40° from a horizontal line, spreading over the sides and gables at least 20 inches, and coarsely bracketed. The entrance front projects 6 feet from the main building, by 12 feet in length. Over its main door, in the gable, is a door with a hoisting beam and tackle above it, to take in the grain, and a floor over the whole area receives it. A window is in each gable end. A ventilator passes up through this chamber and the roof, to let off the steam from the cooking vats below, and the foul air emitted by the swine, by the side of which is the furnace-chimney, giving it, on the whole, as respectable an appearance as a pigsty need pretend to. [Illustration: PIGGERY.] INTERIOR ARRANGEMENT. At the left of the entrance is a flight of stairs, (_b_,) leading to the chamber above. On the right is a small area, (_a_,) with a window to light it. A door from this leads into the main room, (_c_,) where stands a chimney, (_d_,) with a furnace to receive the fuel for cooking the food, for which are two kettles, or boilers, with wooden vats, on the top, if the extent of food demands them; these are secured with broad wooden covers, to keep in the steam when cooking. An iron valve is placed in the back flue of the furnace, which may fall upon either side, to shut off the fire from either of the kettles, around which the fire may revolve; or, the valve may stand in a perpendicular position, at will, if both kettles be heated at the same time. But, as the most economical mode is to cook one kettle while the other is in process of feeding out, and _vice versa_, scarcely more than one at a time will be required in use. Over each kettle is a sliding door, with a short spout to slide the food into them, when wanted. If necessary, and it can be conveniently done, a well may be sunk under this room, and a pump inserted at a convenient place; or if equally convenient, a pipe may bring the water in from a neighboring stream, or spring. On three sides of this room are feeding pens, (_e_,) and sleeping partitions, (_f_,) for the swine. These several apartments are accommodated with doors, which open into separate yards on the sides and in rear, or a large one for the entire family, as may be desired. CONSTRUCTION. The frame of this building is of strong timber, and stout for its size. The sills should be 8 inches square, the corner posts of the same size, and the intermediate posts 8�6 inches in diameter. In the center of these posts, grooves should be made, 2 inches wide, and deep, to receive the _plank_ sides, which should be 2 inches thick, and let in from the level of the chamber by a flush cutting for that purpose, out of the grooves inside, thus using no nails or spikes, and holding the planks tight in their place, that they may not be rooted out, or rubbed off by the hogs, and the inner projection of the main posts left to serve as rubbing posts for them--for no creature so loves to rub his sides, when fatting, as a hog, and this very natural and praiseworthy propensity should be indulged. These planks, like the posts, should, particularly the lower ones, be of _hard_ wood, that they may not be eaten off. Above the chamber floor, thinner planks may be used, but all should be well jointed, that they may lie snug, and shut out the weather. The center post in the floor plan of the engraving is omitted, by mistake, but it should stand there, like the others. Inside posts at the corners, and in the sides of the partitions, like the outside ones, should be also placed and grooved to receive the planking, four and a half feet high, and their upper ends be secured by tenons into mortices in the beams overhead. The troughs should then, if possible, be made of _cast iron_, or, in default of that, the hardest of white oak plank, strongly spiked on to the floor and sides; and the apartment may then be called hog-proof--for a more unquiet, destructive creature, to a building in which he is confined, does not live, than the hog. The slide, or spout to conduct the swill and other feed from the feeding-room into the trough, should be inserted through the partition planks, with a steep _slant_ the whole length of the trough, that the feed may be readily thrown into any or all parts of it. This slide should be of two-inch white-oak plank, and bound along the bottom by a strip of hoop-iron, to prevent the pigs from eating it off--a habit they are prone to; then, firmly spiked down to the partition planks, and through the ends, to the adjoining studs, and the affair is complete. With what experience we have had with the hog, and that by no means an agreeable one, we can devise no better method of accommodation than this here described, and it certainly is the cheapest. But the timber and lumber used must be sound and strong; and then, properly put together, it may defy their most destructive ingenuity. Of the separate uses to which the various apartments may be put, nothing need be said, as the circumstances of every farmer will best govern them. One, to three hundred dollars, according to price of material and labor, will build this piggery, besides fitting it up with furnace and boilers. It may be contracted, or enlarged in size, as necessity may direct; but no one, with six to twenty porkers in his fatting pens, a year, will regret the expense of building a convenient appurtenance of this kind to his establishment. A word may be pardoned, in relation to the too universal practice of permitting swine to prowl along the highways, and in the yards and lawns of the farm house. There is nothing so slovenly, wasteful, and destructive to one's thrift, and so demoralizing, in a small way, as is this practice. What so revolting to one, of the least tidy nature whatever, as a villainous brute, with a litter of filthy pigs at her heels, and the slimy ooze of a mud-puddle reeking and dripping from their sides? See the daubs of mud marking every fence-post, far and near, along the highway, or where-ever they run! A burrow is rooted up at every shady point, a nuisance at every corner you turn, and their abominable snouts into everything that is filthy, or obscene--a living curse to all that is decent about them. An Ishmaelite among the farm stock, they are shunned and hated by every living thing, when at large. But, put the creature in his pen, with a ring in his nose, if permitted to go into the adjoining yard, and comfortably fed, your pig, if of a civilized breed, is a quiet, inoffensive--indeed, gentlemanly sort of animal; and as such, he is entitled to our toleration--regard, we cannot say; for in all the pages of our reading, we learn, by no creditable history, of any virtuous sympathies in a hog. FARM BARNS. The farm barn, next to the farm house, is the most important structure of the farm itself, in the Northern and Middle States; and even at the south and southwest, where less used, they are of more importance in the economy of farm management than is generally supposed. Indeed, to our own eyes, a farm, or a plantation appears incomplete, without a good barn accommodation, as much as without good household appointments--and without them, no agricultural establishment can be complete in all its proper economy. The most _thorough_ barn structures, perhaps, to be seen in the United States, are those of the state of Pennsylvania, built by the German farmers of the lower and central counties. They are large, and expensive in their construction; and, in a strictly economical view, perhaps more costly than required. Yet, there is a substance and durability in them, that is exceedingly satisfactory, and, where the pecuniary ability of the farmer will permit, may well be an example for imitation. In the structure of the barn, and in its interior accommodation, much will depend upon the branches of agriculture to which the farm is devoted. A farm cultivated in grain chiefly, requires but little room for stabling purposes. Storage for grain in the sheaf, and granaries, will require its room; while a stock farm requires a barn with extensive hay storage, and stables for its cattle, horses, and sheep, in all climates not admitting such stock to live through the winter in the field, like the great grazing states west of the Alleghanies. Again, there are wide districts of country where a mixed husbandry of grain and stock is pursued, which require barns and out-buildings accommodating both; and to supply the exigencies of each, we shall present such plans as may be appropriate, and that may, possibly, by a slight variation, be equally adapted to either, or all of their requirements. It may not be out of place here, to remark, that many _designers_ of barns, sheds, and other out-buildings for the accommodation of farm stock, have indulged in fanciful arrangements for the convenience and comfort of animals, which are so complicated that when constructed, as they sometimes are, the practical, common-sense farmer will not use them; and, in the _learning_ required in their use, are altogether unfit for the use and treatment they usually get from those who have the daily care of the stock which they are intended for, and for the rough usage they receive from the animals themselves. A very pretty, and a very plausible arrangement of stabling, and feeding, and all the etceteras of a barn establishment, may be thus got up by an ingenious theorist at the fireside, which will work to a charm, as he dilates upon its good qualities, untried; but, when subjected to experiment will be utterly worthless for practical use. All this we, in our practice, have gone through; and after many years experience, have come to the conclusion that the simplest plan of construction, consistent with an economical expenditure of the material of food for the consumption of stock, is by far the most preferable. Another item to be considered in this connection, is the comparative value of the stock, the forage fed to them, and the _labor_ expended in feeding and taking care of them. We will illustrate: Suppose a farm to lie in the vicinity of a large town, or city. Its value is, perhaps, a hundred dollars an acre. The hay cut upon it is worth fifteen dollars a ton, at the barn, and straw, and coarse grains in proportion, and hired labor ten or twelve dollars a month. Consequently, the manager of this farm should use all the economy in his power, by the aid of cutting-boxes, and other machinery, to make the least amount of forage supply the wants of his stock; and the internal economy of his barn arranged accordingly; because labor is his cheapest item, and food the dearest. Then, for any contrivance to work up his forage the closest--by way of machinery, or manual labor--by which it will serve the purposes of keeping his stock, is true economy; and the making, and saving of manures is an item of the first importance. His buildings, and their arrangements throughout, should, on these accounts, be constructed in accordance with his practice. If, on the other hand, lands are cheap and productive, and labor comparatively dear, a different practice will prevail. He will feed his hay from the mow, without cutting. The straw will be either stacked out, and the cattle turned to it, to pick what they like of it, and make their beds on the remainder; or, if it is housed, he will throw it into racks, and the stock may eat what they choose. It is but one-third, or one-half the labor to do this, that the other mode requires, and the saving in this makes up, and perhaps more than makes up for the increased quantity of forage consumed. Again, climate may equally affect the mode of winter feeding the stock. The winters may be mild. The hay may be stacked in the fields, when gathered, or put into small barns built for hay storage alone; and the manure, scattered over the fields by the cattle, as they are fed from either of them, may be knocked to pieces with the dung-beetle, in the spring, or harrowed and bushed over the ground; and with the very small quantity of labor required in all this, such practice will be more economical than any other which can be adopted. It is, therefore, a subject of deliberate study with the farmer, in the construction of his out-buildings, what plans he shall adopt in regard to them, and their fitting up and arrangement. With these considerations before us, we shall submit such plans of barn structures as may be adapted for general use, where shelters for the farm crops, and farm stock, are required; and which may, in their interior arrangement, be fitted for almost any locality of our country, as the judgment and the wants of the builder may require. DESIGN I. This is a design of barn partially on the Pennsylvania plan, with under-ground stables, and a stone-walled basement on three sides, with a line of posts standing open on the yard front, and a wall, pierced by doors and windows, retreating 12 feet under the building, giving, in front, a shelter for stock. Two sheds, by way of wings, are run out to any desired length, on each side. The body of this barn, which is built of wood, above the basement, is 60�46 feet; the posts 18 feet high, above the sills; the roof is elevated at an angle of 40° from a horizontal line, and the gables hooded, or truncated, 14 feet wide at the verge, so as to cover the large doors at the ends. The main roof spreads 3 to 4 feet over the body of the barn, and runs from the side eaves in a _straight_ line, different from what is shown in the engraving, which appears of a gambrel or hipped fashion. The sides are covered with boards laid vertically, and battened with narrow strips, 3 inches wide. The large doors in the ends are 14 feet wide, and 14 feet high. A slatted blind window is in each gable, for ventilation, and a door, 9�6 feet, on the yard side. [Illustration] INTERIOR ARRANGEMENT. A main floor, _A_, 12 feet wide, runs the whole length through the center of the barn. _S, S_, are the large doors. _H, H,_ are trap doors, to let hay or straw down to the alleys of the stables beneath. _B_, is the principal bay for hay storage, 16 feet wide, and runs up to the roof. _C_, is the bay, 26�16 feet, for the grain mow, if required for that purpose. D, is a granary, 13�16 feet, and 8 feet high. _E_, a storage room for fanning mill, cutting-box, or other machinery, or implements, of same size and height as the granary. _F_, is a passage, 8 feet wide, leading from the main floor to the yard door, through which to throw out litter. Over this passage, and the granary, and store-room, may be stored grain in the sheaf, or hay. The main floor will accommodate the thrashing-machine, horse-power, cutting box, &c., &c., when at work. A line of movable sleepers, or poles, may be laid across the floor, 10 feet above it, on a line of girts framed into the main posts, for that purpose, over which, when the sides of the barn are full, either hay or grain may be deposited, up to the ridge of the roof, and thus afford large storage. And if the demands of the crops require it, after the sides and over the floor is thus filled, the floor itself may, a part of it, be used for packing away either hay or grain, by taking off the team after the load is in, and passing them out by a retreating process, on the side of the cart or wagon; and the vehicle, when unloaded, backed out by hand. We have occasionally adopted this method, when crowded for room for increased crops, to great advantage. It requires somewhat more labor, to be sure, but it is much better than stacking out; and a well-filled barn is a good sight to look upon. [Illustration: MAIN FLOOR PLAN.] Underneath the body of the barn are the stables, root cellar, calf houses, or any other accommodation which the farm stock may require; but, for the most economical objects, is here cut up into stables. At the ends, _l, l_, are passages for the stock to go into their stalls; and also, on the sides, for the men who attend to them. The main passage through the center double line of stalls is 8 feet wide; and on each side are double stalls, 6½ feet wide. From the two end walls, the cattle passages are 5 feet wide, the partition between the stalls running back in a _slant_, from 5 feet high at the mangers to the floor, at that distance from the walls. The mangers, _j, j_, are 2 feet wide, or may be 2½ feet, by taking an additional six inches out of the rear passage. The passage is, between the mangers, 3 feet wide, to receive the hay from the trap doors in the floor above. [Illustration: UNDER-GROUND PLAN AND YARD.] The most economical plan, for room in tying cattle in their stalls, is to fasten the rope, or chain, whichever is used, (the wooden stanchion, or _stanchel_, as it is called, to open and shut, enclosing the animal by the neck, we do not like,) into a ring, which is secured by a strong staple into the post which sustains the partition, just at the top of the manger, on each side of the stall. This prevents the cattle in the same stall from interfering with each other, while the partition effectually prevents any contact from the animals on each side of it, in the separate stalls. The bottom of the mangers, for grown cattle, should be a foot above the floor, and the top two and a half feet, which makes it deep enough to hold their food; and the whole, both sides and bottom, should be made of two-inch, sound, strong plank, that they may not be broken down. The back sides of the stalls, next the feeding alleys, should be full 3½ feet high; and if the cattle are large, and disposed to climb into their mangers with their fore-feet, as they sometimes do, a pole, of 2½ or 3 inches in diameter, should be secured across the front of the stall, next the cattle, and over the mangers--say 4½ feet above the floor, to keep them out of the manger, and still give them sufficient room for putting their heads between that and the top of the manger, to get their food. Cattle thus secured in double stalls, take up less room, and lie much warmer, than when in single stalls; besides, the expense of fitting them up being much less--an experience of many years has convinced us on this point. The doors for the passage of the cattle in and out of the stables, should be five feet wide, that they may have plenty of room. In front of these stables, on the outside, is a line of posts, the feet of which rest on large flat stones, and support the outer sill of the barn, and form a recess, before named, of 12 feet in width, under which may be placed a line of racks, or mangers for outside cattle, to consume the orts, or leavings of hay rejected by the in-door stock; or, the manure may be housed under it, which is removed from the stables by wheel-barrows. The low line of sheds which extend from the barn on each side of the yard, may be used for the carts, and wagons of the place; or, racks and mangers may be fitted up in them, for outside cattle to consume the straw and coarse forage; or, they may be carried higher than in our plan, and floored overhead, and hay, or other food stored in them for the stock. They are so placed merely to give the idea. There may be no more fitting occasion than this, perhaps, to make a remark or two on the subject of managing stock in stables of any kind, when kept in any considerable numbers; and a word may not be impertinent to the subject in hand, as connected with the construction of stables. There is no greater benefit to cattle, after coming into winter quarters, than a straight-forward regularity in everything appertaining to them. Every animal should have its own particular stall in the stable, where it should _always be kept, and in no other_. The cattle should be fed and watered at certain hours of the day, as near as may be. When let out of the stables for water, unless the weather is very pleasant, when they may be permitted to lie out an hour or two, they should be immediately put back, and not allowed to range about with the outside cattle. They are more quiet and contented in their stables than elsewhere, and eat less food, than if permitted to run out; and are every way more comfortable, if properly bedded and attended to, as every one will find, on trying it. The habit of many people, in turning their cattle out of the stables in the morning, in all weathers--letting them range about in a cold yard, hooking and thorning each other--is of no possible benefit, unless to rid themselves of the trouble of cleaning the stables, which pays twice its cost in the saving of manure. The outside cattle, which occupy the yard, are all the better, that the stabled ones do not interfere with them. They become habituated to their own quarters, as the others do to their's, and all are better for being each in their own proper place. It may appear a small matter to notice this; but it is a subject of importance, which every one may know who tries it. It will be seen that a driving way is built up to the barn doors at the ends; this need not be expensive, and will add greatly to the ease and convenience of its approach. It is needless to remark, that this barn is designed to stand on a shelving piece of ground, or on a slope, which will admit of its cellar stables without much excavation of the earth; and in such a position it may be economically built. No estimate is given of its cost, which must depend upon the price of materials, and the convenience of stone on the farm. The size is not arbitrary, but may be either contracted or extended, according to the requirements of the builder. [Illustration] DESIGN II. Here is presented the design of a barn built by ourself, about sixteen years since, and standing on the farm we own and occupy; and which has proved so satisfactory in its use, that, save in one or two small particulars, which are here amended, we would not, for a stock barn, alter it in any degree, nor exchange it for one of any description whatever. For the farmer who needs one of but half the size, or greater, or less, it may be remarked that the extent of this need be no hindrance to the building of one of any size--as the general _design_ may be adopted, and carried out, either in whole or in part, according to his wants, and the economy of its accommodation preserved throughout. The _principle_ of the structure is what is intended to be shown. The _main_ body of this barn stands on the ground, 100�50 feet, with eighteen-feet posts, and a broad, sheltering roof, of 40° pitch from a horizontal line, and truncated at the gables to the width of the main doors below. The sills stand 4 feet above the ground, and a raised driving way to the doors admits the loads of grain and forage into it. The manner of building the whole structure would be, to frame and put up the main building as if it was to have no attachment whatever, and put on the roof, and board up the gable ends. Then frame, and raise adjoining it, on the long sides, and on the rear end--for the opposite gable end to that, is the entrance front to the barn--a continuous lean-to, 16 feet wide, attaching it to the posts of the barn, strongly, by girts. These ranges of lean-to stand on the ground level, nearly--high enough, however, to let a terrier dog under the floors, to keep out the rats--but quite 3 feet below the sills of the barn. The outer posts of the lean-to's should be 12 feet high, and 12½ feet apart, from center to center, except at the extreme corners, which would be 16 feet. One foot below the roof-plates of the main building, and across the rear gable end, a line of girts should be framed into the posts, as a _rest_ for the upper ends of the lean-to rafters, that they may pass under, and a foot below the lower ends of the main roof rafters, to make a break in the roof of one foot, and allow a line of eave gutters under it, if needed, and to show the lean-to line of roof as distinct from the other. The stables are 7 feet high, from the lower floor to the girts overhead, which connect them with the main line of barn posts; thus giving a loft of 4 feet in height at the eaves, and of 12 feet at the junction with the barn. In this loft is large storage for hay, and coarse forage, and bedding for the cattle, which is put in by side windows, level with the loft floor--as seen in the plate. In the center of the rear, _end_ lean-to, is a large door, corresponding with the front entrance to the barn, as shown in the design, 12 feet high, and 14 feet wide, to pass out the wagons and carts which have discharged their loads in the barn, having entered at the main front door. A line of board, one foot wide, between the line of the main and lean-to roofs, is then nailed on, to shut up the space; and the rear gable end boarded down to the roof of the lean-to attached to it. The front end, and the stables on them vertically boarded, and battened, as directed in the last design; the proper doors and windows inserted, and the outside is finished. [Illustration: FLOOR PLAN.] INTERIOR ARRANGEMENT. Entering the large door, (_a_,) at the front end, 14 feet wide, and 14 feet high, the main floor (_g_,) passes through the entire length of the barn, and rear lean-to, 116 feet--the last 16 feet through the lean-to--and sloping 3 feet to the outer sill, and door, (_a_,) of that appendage. On the left of the entrance is a recess, (_e_,) of 20�18 feet, to be used as a thrashing floor, and for machinery, cutting feed, &c., &c.--5 feet next the end being cut off for a passage to the stable. Beyond this is a bay, (_b_,) 18�70 feet, for the storage of hay, or grain, leaving a passage at the further end, of 5 feet wide, to go into the further stables. This bay is bounded on the extreme left, by the line of outside posts of the barn. On the right of the main door is a granary, (_d_,) 10�18 feet, two stories high, and a flight of steps leading from the lower into the upper room. Beyond this is another bay, (_b_,) corresponding with the one just described on the opposite side. The passages at the ends of the bays, (_e_, _e_,) have steps of 3 feet descent, to bring them down on to a level with the stable floors of the lean-to. A passage in each of the two long side lean-to's, (_e_, _e_,) 3 feet wide, receives the hay forage for cattle, or other stock, thrown into them from the bays, and the lofts over the stables; and from them is thrown into the mangers, (_h_, _h_.) The two apartments in the extreme end lean-to, (_f_, _f_,) 34�16 feet each, may be occupied as a hospital for invalid cattle, or partitioned off for calves, or any other purpose. A calving house for the cows which come in during the winter, is always convenient, and one of these may be used for such purpose. The stalls, (_i_, _i_,) are the same as described in Design I, and back of them is the passage for the cattle, as they pass in and out of their stalls. The stable doors, (_j_, _j_,) are six in number. Small windows, for ventilation, should be cut in the rear of the stalls, as marked, and for throwing out the manure, with sliding board shutters. This completes the barn accommodation--giving twenty-eight double stalls, where fifty-six grown cattle may be tied up, with rooms for twenty to thirty calves in the end stables. If a larger stock is kept, young cattle may be tied up, with their heads to the bays, on the main floor, beyond the thrashing floor, which we practice. This will hold forty young cattle. The manure is taken out on a wheel-barrow, and no injury done to the floor. They will soon eat out a place where their forage can be put, and do no injury beyond that to the hay in the bays, as it is too closely packed for them to draw it out any farther. In this way we can accommodate more than a hundred head of cattle, of assorted ages. The hay in the bays may drop three feet below the level of the main floor, by placing a tier of rough timbers and poles across them, to keep it from the ground, and many tons of additional storage be thus provided. We have often stored one hundred and fifty tons of hay in this barn; and it will hold even more, if thoroughly packed, and the movable girts over the main floor be used, as described in Design I. The chief advantages in a barn of this plan are, the exceeding convenience of getting the forage to the stock. When the barn is full, and feeding is first commenced, with a hay knife, we commence on each side next the stables, on the top of the bays, cut a _well_ down to the alley way in front of the mangers, which is left open up to the stable roof. This opens a passage for the hay to be thrown into the alleys, and in a short time it is so fed out on each side, that, the sides of the main barn being open to them, the hay can be thrown along their whole distance, and fed to the cattle as wanted; and so at the rear end stables, in the five-foot alley adjoining them. If a root cellar be required, it may be made under the front part of the main floor, and a trap-door lead to it. For a milk dairy, this arrangement is an admirable one--we so used it for four years; or for stall-feeding, it is equally convenient. One man will do more work, so far as feeding is concerned, in this barn, than two can do in one of almost any other arrangement; and the yards outside may be divided into five separate inclosures, with but little expense, and still be large enough for the cattle that may want to use them. It matters not what kind of stock may be kept in this barn; it is convenient for all alike. Even sheep may be accommodated in it with convenience. But low, open sheds, inclosed by a yard, are better for them; with storage for hay overhead, and racks and troughs beneath. This barn is built of wood. It may be well constructed, with stone underpinning, without mortar, for $1,000 to $1,500, as the price of materials may govern. And if the collection of the water from the roofs be an object, cheap gutters to carry it into one or more cisterns may be added, at an expense of $200 to $300. As before observed, a barn may be built on this principle, of any size, and the stables, or lean-to's may only attach to one side or end; or they may be built as mere sheds, with no storage room over the cattle. The chief objection to stabling cattle in the _body_ of the barn is, the continual decay of the most important timbers, such as sills, sleepers, &c., &c., by the leakage of the stale, and manure of the cattle on to them, and the loss of so much valuable storage as they would occupy, for hay and grain. By the plan described, the stables have no attachment to the sills, and other durable barn timbers below; and if the stable sills and sleepers decay, they are easily and cheaply replaced with others. Taking it altogether, we can recommend no better, nor, as we think, so good, and so cheap a plan for a _stock_ barn, as this. We deem it unnecessary to discuss the subject of water to cattle yards, as every farm has its own particular accommodations, or inconveniences in that regard; and the subject of leading water by pipes into different premises, is too well understood to require remark. Where these can not be had, and springs or streams are not at hand, wells and pumps must be provided, in as much convenience as the circumstances of the case will admit. Water is absolutely necessary, and that in quantity, for stock uses; and every good manager will exercise his best judgment to obtain it. BARN ATTACHMENTS. It may be expected, perhaps, that in treating so fully as we have of the several kinds of farm building, a full cluster of out-buildings should be drawn and exhibited, showing their relative positions and accommodation. This can not be done, however, except as a matter of "fancy;" and if attempted, might not be suited to the purposes of a single individual, by reason of the particular location where they would be situated, and the accommodation which the buildings might require. Convenience of access to the barns, from the fields where the crops are grown, a like convenience to get out manures upon those fields, and a ready communication with the dwelling house, are a part of the considerations which are to govern their position, or locality. Economy in labor, in the various avocations at the barn, and its necessary attachments; and the greatest convenience in storage, and the housing of the various stock, grains, implements, and whatever else may demand accommodation, are other considerations to be taken into the account, all to have a bearing upon them. Compactness is always an object in such buildings, when not obtained at a sacrifice of some greater advantage, and should be one of the items considered in placing them; and in their construction, next to the arrangement of them in the most convenient possible manner for their various objects, a due regard to their architectural appearance should be studied. Such appearance, where their objects are apparent, can easily be secured. _Utility_ should be their chief point of expression; and no style of architecture, or finish, can be really _bad_, where this expression is duly consulted, and carried out, even in the humblest way of cheapness, or rusticity. We have heretofore sufficiently remarked on the folly of unnecessary pretension in the farm buildings, of any kind; and nothing can appear, and really be more out of place, than ambitious structures intended only for the stock, and crops. Extravagant expenditure on these, any more than an extravagant expenditure on the dwelling and its attachments, does not add to the _selling_ value of the farm, nor to its economical management, in a productive capacity; and he who is about to build, should make his proposed buildings a study for months, in all their different requirements and conveniences, before he commences their erection. Mistakes in their design, and location, have cost men a whole after life of wear-and-tear of temper, patience, and labor, to themselves, and to all who were about them; and it is better to wait even two or three years, to fully mature the best plans of building, than by hurrying, to mis-locate, mis-arrange, and miss, in fact, the very best application in their structure of which such buildings are capable. A word might also be added about barn-_yards_. The planning and management of these, also, depends much upon the course the farmer has to pursue in the keeping of his stock, the amount of waste litter, such as straw, &c., which he has to dispose of, and the demands of the farm for animal and composted manures. There are different methods of constructing barn-yards, in different parts of the country, according to climate and soils, and the farmer must best consult his own experience, the most successful examples about him, and the publications which treat of that subject, in its connection with farm husbandry, to which last subject this item more properly belongs. RABBITS. It may appear that we are extending our "Rural Architecture" to an undue length, in noticing a subject so little attended to in this country as Rabbit accommodations. But, as with other small matters which we have noticed, this may create a new source of interest and attachment to country life, we conclude to give it a place. It is a matter of surprise to an American first visiting England, to see the quantities of game which abound at certain seasons of the year in the London and other markets of that country, in contrast with the scanty supply, or rather no supply at all, existing in the markets of American cities. The reason for such difference is, that in England, Scotland, Wales, and Ireland, every acre of the soil is appropriated to some profitable use, while we, from the abundance of land in America, select only the best for agricultural purposes, and let the remainder go barren and uncared for. Lands appropriated to the rearing of game, when fit for farm pasturage or tillage, is unprofitable, generally, with us; but there are thousands of acres barren for other purposes, that might be devoted to the breeding and pasturage of rabbits, and which, by thus appropriating them, might be turned to profitable account. All the preparation required is, to enclose the ground with a high and nearly close paling fence, and the erection of a few rude hutches inside, for winter shelter and the storage of their food. They will burrow into the ground, and breed with great rapidity; and in the fall and winter seasons, they will be fat for market with the food they gather from the otherwise worthless soil over which they run. Rocky, bushy, and evergreen grounds, either hill, dale, or plain, are good for them, wherever the soils are dry and friable. The rabbit is a gross feeder, living well on what many grazing animals reject, and gnawing down all kinds of bushes, briars, and noxious weeds. The common domestic rabbits are probably the best for market purposes, and were they to be made an object of attention, immense tracts of mountain land in New Jersey, Pennsylvania, and the New York and New England highlands could be made available for this object. Some may think this a small business. So is making pins, and rearing chickens, and bees. But there are an abundance of people, whose age and capacity are just fitted for it, and for want of other employment are a charge upon their friends or the public; and now, when our cities and large towns are so readily reached by railroads from all parts of the country, our farmers should study to apply their land to the production of everything that will find a profitable market. Things unthought of, a few years ago, now find a large consumption in our large cities and towns, by the aid of railroads; and we know of no good reason, why this production and traffic should not continue to an indefinite extent. When the breeding of rabbits is commenced, get a good treatise on the breeding and rearing of them, which may be found at many of the bookstores. As the rearing of rabbits, and their necessary accommodation, is not a subject to which we have given much personal attention, we applied to Francis Rotch, Esq., of Morris, Otsego county, New York, who is probably the most accomplished rabbit "fancier" in the United States, for information, with which he has kindly furnished us. His beautiful and high-bred animals have won the highest premiums, at the shows of the New York State Agricultural Society. He thus answers: "I now forward you the promised plan from Mr. Alfred Rodman, of Dedham, Massachusetts, which, I think, will give you the information you wish upon these subjects. "Rabbits kept for profit in the vicinity of a city, and where there are mills, may be raised at a very small cost; and when once known as an article of food, will be liberally paid for by the epicure, for their meat is as delicate as a chicken's, and their fat mild, and very rich. "I am surprised they are not more generally kept, as a source of amusement, and for the purposes of experiment. "There is, I think, in many, a natural fondness for animals, but not easily indulged without more room than is often to be found in city residences. Fowls, and pigeons, trespass on our neighbors, and are a frequent cause of trouble. This objection does not hold good against the rabbit, which occupies so small a space, that where there is an outhouse there may be a rabbitry. _English_ children are encouraged in their fondness for animals, as tending to good morals and good feelings, and as offering a _home_ amusement, in contradistinction to _street_ associations." [Illustration: Drawn from life, by Mr. FRANCIS ROTCH.] Mr. Rotch continues: "I have just finished the enclosed drawing of a 'fancy rabbit,' which I hope will answer your purpose, as an illustration of what the little animal should be in form, color, marking, and carriage, according to the decisions of the various societies in and out of London, who are its greatest admirers and patrons. These amateurs hold frequent meetings for its exhibition, at which premiums are awarded, and large prizes paid for such specimens as come up to their standard of excellence. This standard is, of course, conventional; and, as might be expected, is a combination of form and color very difficult to obtain--based, it is true, on the most correct principles of general breeding; but much of _fancy_ and beauty is added to complete the requisites of a prize rabbit. For instance, the head must be small and clean; the shoulders wide and full; the chest broad and deep; the back wide, and the loin large. Thus far, these are the characteristics of all really _good_ and _improved_ animals; to which are to be added, on the score of 'fancy,' an eye round, full, and bright; an ear _long_, broad, and pendant, of a soft, delicate texture, dropping nearly perpendicularly by the side of the head--this is termed its 'carriage.' The color must be in rich, unmixed _masses_ on the body, spreading itself over the back, side, and haunch, but breaking into spots and patches on the shoulder, called the 'chain;' while that on the back is known as the 'saddle.' The head must be full of color, broken with white on the forehead and cheeks; the marking over the bridge of the nose and down on both sides into the lips, should be dark, and in shape somewhat resembling a butterfly, from which this mark takes its name; the ear, however, must be uniform in color. Add to all this, a large, full dewlap, and you will have a rabbit fit to '_go in and win_.' "The most esteemed colors are black and white; yellow and white; tortoise-shell and white; blue and white, and gray and white. These are called 'broken colors,' while those of _one_ uniform color are called 'selfs.'" It will be observed that Mr. Rotch here describes a beautiful "fancy" variety of "lop-eared" rabbits, which he brought from England a few years since. They were, originally, natives of Madagascar. He continues: "The domestic rabbit, in all its varieties, has always been, and still is, a great favorite, in many parts of the European continent: "In Holland, it is bred with reference to color only, which must be a pure white, with dark ears, feet, legs, and tail; this distribution has a singular effect, but, withal, it is a pretty little creature. The French breed a long, rangy animal, of great _apparent_ size, but deficient in depth and breadth, and of course, wanting in constitution; no attention is paid to color, and its marking is matter of accident. The White Angola, with its beautiful long fur and red eyes, is also a great favorite in France. "In England, the rabbit formerly held the rank of 'farm stock!' and thousands of acres were exclusively devoted to its production; families were supported, and rents, rates, and taxes were paid from its increase and sale. The '_gray-skins_' went to the hatter, the '_silver-skins_' were shipped to China, and were dressed as furs; while the flesh was a favorite dish at home. This was the course pursued in Yorkshire, Lincolnshire, and many other counties, with their light sandy soils, before the more general introduction of root culture, and the rotation of crops, gave an increased value to such land. Since then, however, I remember visiting a farm of Lord Onslow's, in Surrey, containing about 1,400 acres. It was in the occupation of an eminent flock-master and agriculturist, who kept some hundreds of hutched rabbits for the sake of their manure, which he applied to his turnep crop; added to this, their skins and carcasses were quite an item of profit, notwithstanding the care of them required an old man and boy, with a donkey and cart. The food used was chiefly brewer's grains, miller's waste, bran and hay, with clover and roots, the cost of keeping not exceeding two pence a week. The hutches stood under a long shed, open on all sides, for the greater convenience of cleaning and feeding. I was told that the manure was much valued by the market gardeners round London, who readily paid 2s. 6d. a bushel at the rabbitries. These rabbitries are very numerous in all the towns and cities of England, and form a source of amusement or profit to all classes, from the man of fortune to the day laborer. Nor is it unfrequent that this latter produces a rabbit from an old tea-chest, or dry-goods box, that wins the prize from its competitor of the mahogany hutch or ornamental rabbitry. "The food of the rabbit embraces great variety, including grain of all kinds, bran, pea-chaff, miller's waste, brewer's grains, clover and other hay, and the various weeds known as plantain, dock, mallow, dandelion, purslain, thistles, &c., &c. "The rabbit thus easily conforms itself to the means, condition, and circumstances of its owner; occupies but little space, breeds often, comes early to maturity, and is withal, a healthy animal, requiring however, to be kept clean, and to be _cautiously_ fed with _succulent_ food, which must always be free from dew or rain--water is unnecessary to them when fed with 'greens.' My own course of feeding is, one gill of oats in the morning, with a medium-sized cabbage leaf, or what I may consider its _equivalent_ in any other vegetable food, for the rabbit in confinement must be, as already stated, cautiously fed with what is succulent. At noon, I feed a handfull of cut hay or clover chaff, and in the evening the same as in the morning. To does, when suckling, I give what they will eat of both green and dry food. The cost to me is about three cents per week, per head. "I by no means recommend this as the best, or the most economical mode of feeding, but it happens to suit my convenience. Were I in a town, or near mills, I should make use of other and cheaper substitutes. My young rabbits, when taken from the doe, say at eight, ten, or twelve weeks old, are turned out together till about six months old, when it becomes necessary to take them up, and put them in separate hutches, to prevent their fighting and destroying each other. The doe at that age is ready to breed; her period of gestation is about thirty-one or two days, and she produces from three or four to a dozen young at a 'litter'. It is not well to let her raise more than six, or even four at once--the fewer, the larger and finer the produce. "Young rabbits are killed for the table at any age, from twelve weeks to twelve months old, and are a very acceptable addition to the country larder. The male is not allowed to remain with the doe, lest he should destroy the young ones. "Hutches are made singly, or in stacks, to suit the apartment, which should be capable of thorough ventilation. The best size is about three feet long, two feet deep, and fourteen inches high, with a small apartment partitioned off from one end, nearly a foot wide, as a breeding place for the doe. A wire door forms the front, and an opening is left behind for cleaning; the floor should have a descent to the back of the hutch of two inches. All edges should be tinned, to save them from being gnawed. "Having now given the leading characteristics and qualities which constitute a good 'fancy lop-eared rabbit,' and its general management, allow me to remark on the striking difference observable between Americans and the people of many other countries, as to a fondness for animals, or what are termed 'fancy pets,' of and for which we, as a people, know and care very little. Indeed, we scarcely admit more than a selfish fellowship with the dog, and but too seldom does our attachment even for this faithful companion, place him beyond the reach of the _omnipotent dollar_. "The operatives, mechanics, and laborers, in other countries, seem to have a perfect passion for such pursuits, and take the greatest interest and pride in breeding and perfecting the lesser animals, though often obliged to toil for the very food they feed to them. Here, too, home influences are perceived to be good, and are encouraged by the employer, as supplying the place of other and much more questionable pursuits and tastes." We here present the elevation, and floor plan of Mr. Rodman's rabbitry, together with the front and rear views of the hutches within them: [Illustration: ELEVATION. MAIN FLOOR PLAN.] No. 1 is the gable end elevation of the building, with a door and window. No. 2 is the main-floor plan, or living room for the rabbits. EXPLANATION. A, the doe's hutches, with nest boxes attached. B, hutches three feet long, with movable partitions for the young rabbits; the two lower hutches are used for the stock bucks. C, a tier of grain boxes on the floor for feeding the rabbits--the covers sloping out toward the room. D, small trapdoor, leading into the manure cellar beneath. E, large trapdoor leading into root cellar. F, troughs for leading off urine from rear of hutches into the manure cellar at K, K. G, wooden trunk leading from chamber above No. 3, through this into manure cellar. H, trap opening into manure cellar. I, stairs leading into loft No. 3, with hinged trapdoor overhead; when open, it will turn up against the wall, and leave a passage to clear out the hutches. NOTE.--The grain boxes are one foot high in front, and fifteen inches at the back, with sloping bottoms, and sloping covers. The floors of the hutches have a slope of two inches back. The hutches are furnished, at the back of the floor, with pieces of zinc, to keep them free from the drippings from above. The hutches are 16 inches high, 3 feet long, and 2 feet deep. The foregoing plans and explanations might perhaps be sufficient for the guidance of such as wish to construct a rabbitry for their own use; but as a complete arrangement of all the rooms which may be conveniently appropriated to this object, to make it a complete thing, may be acceptable to the reader, we conclude, even at the risk of prolixity, to insert the upper loft, and cellar apartments, with which we have been furnished; hoping that our youthful friends will set themselves about the construction of a branch of rural employment so home-attaching in its associations. [Illustration: LOFT OR GARRET.] No. 3 is the loft or chamber story, next above the main floor. EXPLANATION. A, place for storing hay. B, stairs leading from below. C, room for young rabbits. D, trapdoor into trunk leading to manure cellar. E, partition four feet high. This allows of ventilation between the two windows, in summer, which would be cut off, were the partition carried all the way up. [Illustration: CELLAR.] No. 4 is the cellar under the rabbitry. EXPLANATION. A, manure cellar. B, root cellar. C, stairs leading to first, or main floor. D, stairs leading outside. E, window--lighting both rooms of cellar. No. 5 is a front section of rabbit hutches, eight in number, two in a line, four tiers high, one above another, with wire-screened doors, hinges, and buttons for fastening. A, the grain trough, is at the bottom. No. 6 is the floor section of the hutches, falling, as before mentioned, two inches from front to rear. [Illustration: FRONT OF HUTCH. REAR OF HUTCH.] A, is the door to lift up, for cleaning out the floors. B, is the zinc plate, to carry off the urine and _running_ wash of the floors. C, is the trough for carrying off this offal into the manure cellars, through the trunk, as seen in No. 2. No. 7 is a rear section of hutches, same as in No. 5, with the waste trough at the bottom leading into the trench before described, with the cross section, No. 8, before described in No. 6. A, a grated door at the back of the hutch, for ventilation in summer, and covered with a thin board in winter. B, a flap-door, four inches wide, which is raised for cleaning out the floor; under this door is a space of one inch, for passing out the urine of the rabbits. C, are buttons for fastening the doors. D, the backs of the bedrooms, without any passage out on back side. This matter of the rabbitry, and its various explanations, may be considered by the plain, matter-of-fact man, as below the dignity of people pursuing the _useful_ and _money-making_ business of life. Very possible. But many boys--for whose benefit they are chiefly introduced--and _men_, even, may do worse than to spend their time in such apparent trifles. It is better than going to a horse-race. It is better even than going to a trotting match, where _fast men_, as well as _fast_ horses congregate. It is better, too, than a thousand other places where boys _want_ to go, when they have nothing to interest them at home. One half of the farmer's boys, who, discontented at home, leave it for something more congenial to their feelings and tastes, do so simply because of the excessive dullness, and want of interest in objects to attract them there, and keep them contented. Boys, in America at least, are apt to be _smart_. So their parents think, at all events; and too smart they prove, to stay at home, and follow the beaten track of their fathers, as their continual migration from the paternal roof too plainly testifies. This, in many cases, is the fault of the parents themselves, because they neglect those little objects of interest to which the minds and tastes of their sons are inclined, and for want of which they _imagine_ more attractive objects abroad, although in the search they often fail in finding them. We are a progressive people. Our children are not always content to be what their fathers are; and parents must yield a little to "the spirit of the age" in which they live. And boys _pay_ too, as they go along, if properly treated. They should be made companions, not servants. Many a joyous, hearty spirit, who, when properly encouraged, comes out a whole man at one-and-twenty, if kept in curb, and harnessed down by a hard parent, leaves the homestead, with a curse and a kick, determined, whether in weal or in woe, never to return. Under a different course of treatment, he would have fixed his home either at his birthplace, or in its immediate vicinity, and in a life of frugality, usefulness, and comparative ease, blessed his parents, his neighborhood, and possibly the world, with a useful example--all, perhaps, grown out of his youthful indulgence in the possession of a rabbit-warren, or some like trifling matter. This may appear to be small morals, as well as small business. We admit it. But those who have been well, and indulgently, as well as methodically trained, may look back and see the influence which all such little things had upon their early thoughts and inclinations; and thus realize the importance of providing for the amusements and pleasures of children in their early years. The dovecote, the rabbitry, the poultry-yard, the sheep-fold, the calf-pen, the piggery, the young colt of a favorite mare, the yoke of yearling steers, or a fruit tree which they have planted, and nursed, and called it, or the fruit it bears, _their own_,--anything, in fact, which they can call _theirs_--are so many objects to bind boys to their homes, and hallow it with a thousand nameless blessings and associations, known only to those who have been its recipients. Heaven's blessings be on the family homestead! "Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home!" sung the imaginary maid of Milan, the beautiful creation of John Howard Payne, when returning from the glare and pomp of the world, to her native cottage in the mountains of Switzerland. And, although all out of date, and conventionally vulgar this sentiment may be _now_ considered, such is, or should be the subdued, unsophisticated feeling of all natives of the farm house, and the country cottage. We may leave the quiet roof of our childhood; we may mix in the bustling contentions of the open world; we may gain its treasures; we may enjoy its greatness, its honors, and its applause; but there are times when they will all fade into nothing, in comparison with the peace, and quietude, and tranquil happiness of a few acres of land, a comfortable roof, and contentment therewith! DAIRY BUILDINGS. Wherever the dairy is made an important branch of farm production, buildings for its distinct accommodation are indispensable. The dairy is as much a _manufactory_ as a cotton mill, and requires as much conveniences in its own peculiar line. We therefore set apart a building, on purpose for its objects; and either for cheese, or butter, separate conveniences are alike required. We commence with the [Illustration: CHEESE DAIRY HOUSE.] CHEESE DAIRY HOUSE. This building is one and a half stories high, with a broad, spreading roof of 45° pitch; the ground plan is 10 feet between joists, and the posts 16 feet high. An ice-house, made on the plan already described, is at one end, and a wood-shed at the opposite end, of the same size. This building is supposed to be erected near the milking sheds of the farm, and in contiguity to the feeding troughs of the cows, or the piggery, and adapted to the convenience of feeding the whey to whichever of these animals the dairyman may select, as both, or either are required to consume it; and to which it may be conveyed in spouts from the dairy-room. INTERIOR ARRANGEMENT. The front door is protected by a light porch, (_a_,) entering by a door, (_b_,) the main dairy room. The cheese presses, (_c_, _c_,) occupy the left end of the room, between which a passage leads through a door, (_l_,) into the wood-shed, (_h_,) open on all sides, with its roof resting on four posts set in the ground. The large cheese-table, (_d_,) stands on the opposite end, and is 3 feet wide. In the center of the room is a chimney, (_e_,) with a whey and water boiler, and vats on each side. A flight of stairs, (_f_,) leading into the storage room above, is in the rear. A door, (_b_,) on the extreme right, leads into the ice-house, (_g_.) There are four windows to the room--two on each side, front and rear. In the loft are placed the shelves for storing the cheese, as soon as sufficiently prepared on the temporary table below. This loft is thoroughly ventilated by windows, and the heat of the sun upon it ripens the cheese rapidly for market. A trapdoor, through the floors, over which is hung a tackle, admits the cheese from below, or passes it down, when prepared for market. The cheese house should, if possible, be placed on a sloping bank, when it is designed to feed the whey to pigs; and even when it is fed to cows, it is more convenient to pass it to them on a lower level, than to carry it out in buckets. It may, however, if on level ground, be discharged into vats, in a cellar below, and pumped out as wanted. A cellar is convenient--indeed, almost indispensable--under the cheese dairy; and water should be so near as to be easily pumped, or drawn, into the vats and kettles used in running up the curd, or for washing the utensils used in the work. When the milk is kept over night, for the next morning's curd, temporary tables may be placed near the ice-room, to hold the pans or tubs in which it may be set, and the ice used to temper the milk to the proper degree for raising the cream. If the dairy be of such extent as to require larger accommodation than the plan here suggested, a room or two may be partitioned off from the main milk and pressing-room, for washing the vessels and other articles employed, and for setting the milk. Every facility should be made for neatness in all the operations connected with the work. Different accommodations are required, for making the different kinds of cheese which our varied markets demand, and in the fitting up of the dairy-house, no _positive_ plan of arrangement can be laid down, suited alike to all the work which may be demanded. The dairyman, therefore, will best arrange all these for the particular convenience which he requires. The main plan, and style of building however, we think will be generally approved, as being in an agreeable architectural style, and of convenient construction and shape for the objects intended. THE BUTTER DAIRY. This, if pursued on the same farm with the cheese dairy, and at different seasons of the year, may be carried on in the lower parts of the same building. But as it is usually a distinct branch of business, when prosecuted as the chief object on a farm, it should have accommodations of its own kind, which should be fitted up specially for that purpose. We cannot, perhaps, suggest a better model of a building for the butter dairy, than the one just submitted for the cheese-house, only that there is no necessity for the upper story; and the posts of the main building should not stand more than nine feet above the sills. A good, walled cellar, well lighted, as a room for setting the milk, is indispensable, with a broad, open flight of steps, from the main floor above, into it. Here, too, should stand the stone slabs, where the butter is worked, and the churns, to be driven by hand, or water, or animal power, as the two latter may be provided, and introduced into the building by belt, shaft, or crank. If running water can be brought on to the milk-shelves, from a higher level, which, for this purpose, should have curbs two or three inches high on their sides, it can flow in a constant gentle current over them, among the pans, from a receiving vat, in which ice is deposited, to keep the milk at the proper temperature--about 55° Fahrenheit--for raising the cream; and if the quantity of milk be large, the shelves can be so arranged, by placing each tier of shelf lower than the last, like steps, that the water may pass among them all before it escapes from the room. Such a mode of applying water and ice, renders the entire process of cream-rising almost certain in all weathers, and is highly approved wherever it has been practiced. The low temperature of the room, by the aid of water and ice, is also beneficial to the butter packed in kegs, keeping it cool and sweet--as much like a spring-house as possible, in its operation. The washing and drying of pans, buckets, churns, and the heating of water, should all be done in the room above, where the necessary kettles are set, and kept from contact with the cool atmosphere of the lower room. The latter apartment should have a well-laid stone or brick floor, filled and covered with a strong cement of water lime, and sloping gradually to the outer side, where all the water may pass off by a drain, and everything kept sweet and clean. The buttermilk may, as in the case of the whey, in the cheese dairy, be passed off in spouts to the pigsty, which should not be far distant. As all this process of arrangement, however, must conform somewhat to the shape of the ground, the locality, and the facilities at hand where it may be constructed; it is hardly possible to give any one system of detail which is applicable to an uniform mode of structure; and much will be left to the demands and the skill of the dairyman himself, in the plan he may finally adopt. THE WATER RAM. As water, and that of a good quality, and in abundant quantity, is indispensable to the various demands of the farm, it is worth some pains to provide it in the most economical manner, and at the most convenient points for use. In level grounds, wells are generally dug, and the water drawn up by buckets or pumps. In a hilly country, springs, and streams from higher grounds, may be brought in by the aid of pipes, the water flowing naturally, under its own head, wherever it may be wanted, away from its natural stream. [Illustration: WATER RAM.] But, of all contrivances to elevate water from a _lower_ fountain, or current, to a _higher_ level, by its _own action_, the Water Ram is the most complete in its operation, and perfect in its construction, of anything within our knowledge. And as it may not be generally known to our readers, at our request, Messrs. A. B. ALLEN & CO., of New York--who keep them of all sizes for sale, at their agricultural warehouse, No's. 189 and 191, Water-street--have kindly furnished us with the following description of the machine, given by W. & B. Douglass, of Middletown, Connecticut, manufacturers of the article: "H, spring or brook. C, drive, or supply-pipe, from brook to ram. G, discharge pipe, conveying water to house or other point required for use. B, D, A, E, I, the Ram. J, the plank or other foundation to which the machine is secured for use. "The various uses of the ram are at once obvious, viz., for the purposes of irrigating lands, and supplying dwellings, barnyards, gardens, factories, villages, engines, railroad stations, &c., with running water. "The simplicity of the operation of this machine, together with its effectiveness, and very apparent durability, renders it decidedly the most important and valuable apparatus yet developed in hydraulics, for forcing a portion of a running stream of water to any elevation, proportionate to the fall obtained. It is perfectly applicable where no more than eighteen inches fall can be had; yet, the greater the fall applied, the more powerful the operation of the machine, and the higher the water may be conveyed. The relative proportions between the water raised, and wasted, is dependent entirely upon the relative height of the spring or source of supply above the ram, and the elevation to which it is required to be raised. The quantity raised varying in proportion to the height to which it is conveyed, with a given fall; also, the distance which the water has to be conveyed, and consequent length of pipe, has some bearing on the quantity of water raised and discharged by the ram; as, the longer the pipe through which the water has to be forced by the machine, the greater the friction to be overcome, and the more the power consumed in the operation; yet, it is common to apply the ram for conveying the water distances of one and two hundred rods, and up elevations of one and two hundred feet. Ten feet fall from the spring, or brook, to the ram, is abundantly sufficient for forcing up the water to any elevation under say one hundred and fifty feet in height, above the level of the point where the ram is located; and the same ten feet fall will raise the water to a much higher point than above last named, although in a _diminished_ quantity, in proportion as the height is increased. When a sufficient quantity of water is raised with a given fall, it is not advisable to increase said fall, as in so doing the force with which the ram works is increased, and the amount of labor which it has to perform greatly augmented, the wear and tear of the machine proportionably increased, and the durability of the same lessened; so that economy, in the expense of keeping the ram in repair, would dictate that no greater fall should be applied, for propelling the ram, than is sufficient to raise a requisite supply of water to the place of use. To enable any person to make the calculation, as to what fall would be sufficient to apply to the ram, to raise a sufficient supply of water to his premises, we would say, that in conveying it any ordinary distance, of say fifty or sixty rods, it may be safely calculated that about one-seventh part of the water can be raised and discharged at an elevation above the ram five times as high as the fall which is applied to the ram, or one-fourteenth part can be raised and discharged, say ten times as high as the fall applied; and so in that proportion, as the fall or rise is varied. Thus, if the ram be placed under a head or fall of five feet, of every seven gallons drawn from the spring, one may be raised twenty-five feet, or half a gallon fifty feet. Or with ten feet fall applied to the machine, of every fourteen gallons drawn from the spring, one gallon may be raised to the height of one hundred feet above the machine; and so in like proportion, as the fall or rise is increased or diminished. "It is presumed that the above illustrations of what the machine will do under certain heads and rise, will be sufficient for all practical purposes, to enable purchasers of the article to determine, with a sufficient degree of nicety, as to the head or fall to apply to the ram for a given rise and distance, which they may wish to overcome in raising water from springs or brooks to their premises, or other places where water is required. Yet, we have the pleasure of copying the following article, which we find in the 'American Agriculturist,' a very valuable journal published by C. M. Saxton, 152 Fulton-street, New York, which may serve to corroborate our statements as to what our ram will accomplish under given circumstances: "'The following is a correct statement of a water ram I have had in successful operation for the last six months: "'1. The fall from the surface of the water in the spring is four feet. 2. The quantity of water delivered per ten minutes, at my house, is three and a quarter gallons, and that discharged at the ram twenty-five gallons. Thus, nearly one-seventh part of the water is saved. 3. The perpendicular height of the place of delivery above the ram is nineteen feet--say fifteen feet above the surface of the spring. 4. The length of the pipe leading from the ram to the house is one hundred and ninety feet. 5. The pipe leading from the ram to the house has three right angles, rounded by curves. 6. The ram is of Douglass' make, of a small size. 7. The length of the drive or supply-pipe is sixty feet. Its inner diameter one inch. 8. The depth of water in the spring, over the drive pipe, is six inches. 9. The inner diameter of the pipe, conducting the water from the ram to the house, is three-eighths of an inch. "'I consider it very essential that the drive or supply-pipe should be laid as straight as possible, as in the motion of the water in this pipe consists the power of the ram. V. H. HALLOCK. North-East Center, N.Y., April 2d, 1849.'" We have seen several of these rams at work; and in any place where the required amount of fall can be had, with sufficient water to supply the demand, we are entirely satisfied that no plan so cheap and efficient can be adopted, by which to throw it to a higher level, and at a distance from the point of its flow. We heartily commend it to all who need a thing of the kind, and have at hand the facilities in the way of a stream for its use. It is hardly worth while to add, that by the aid of the ram, water can be thrown into every room in the dwelling house, as well as into the various buildings, and yards, and fields of the farm, wherever it may be required. RAT-PROOF GRANARY. This plan, and description, we take from an agricultural periodical published in New York--"The Plow." We can recommend no plan of a better kind for the objects required. It is an old-fashioned structure, which many of our readers will recognize--only, that it is improved in some of its details. [Illustration: GRANARY] The illustration above needs but little description. The posts should be stone, if procurable, one foot square, and four feet long, set one-third in the ground, and capped with smooth flat stones, four to six inches thick, and two feet, at least, across. If wooden posts are used, make them sixteen inches square, and set them in a hole previously filled, six inches deep, with charcoal, or rubble stone and lime grouting, and fill around the posts with the same. Four inches from the top, nail on a flange of tin or sheet iron, six inches wide, the projecting edge of which may be serrated, as a further preventive against the depredating rascals creeping around. The steps are hinged to the door-sill, and should have a cord and weight attached to the door, so that whenever it is shut, the steps should be up also; this would prevent the possibility of carelessness in leaving them down for the rats to walk up. The sides should be made of slats, with large cracks between, and the floor under the corn-crib, with numerous open joints; no matter if shattered corn falls through, let the pigs and chickens have it; the circulation of the air through the pile of corn, will more than pay for all you will lose through the floor. If you intend to have sweet grain, be sure to have a ventilator in the roof, and you may see by the vane on the top of it, how the wind will always blow favorably for you. IMPROVED DOMESTIC ANIMALS. Having completed the series of subjects which we had designed for this work, we are hardly content to send it out to the public, without inviting the attention of our farmers, and others who dwell in the country and occupy land, to the importance of surrounding themselves with the best breeds of domestic animals, as an item of increased profit in their farm management, and as a subject of interest and satisfaction to themselves in the embellishment of their grounds. We have addressed ourselves through these pages to the good sense of men who, in their general character and pursuits, comprise the most stable class of our population. We have endeavored to impress upon them the importance of providing all the conveniences and comforts to themselves, in their dwellings, as well as the due provision for their animals and crops, in the rougher farm buildings, which their circumstances will admit; and we trust they have been shown that it is proper economy so to do. We have, in addition to these, somewhat dilated upon objects of embellishment, in the way of grounds to surround them, and trees to beautify them, which will in no way interfere with a just economy, and add greatly to the pleasure and interest of their occupation. We now want them to introduce into those grounds such domestic animals as shall add to their ornament, and be far more profitable to themselves, than the inferior things which are called the common, or native stock of the country. Without this last lesson, half our object would be lost. Of what avail will be the best provision for the conveniences of a family, and the labors of the farm, if the farm be badly cultivated, and a worthless or inferior stock be kept upon it? The work is but half done at best; and the inferiority of the last will only become more conspicuous and contemptible, in contrast with the superior condition of the first. It is not intended to go into an examination of the farm-stock of our country at large, nor into their modes of treatment; but, to recommend such varieties of animals as are profitable in their breeding and keeping, both to the professional farmer in his vocation, and to such as, beyond this, find them an object of convenience, or of pleasure. We, in America, are comparatively a young people. Yet, we have surmounted _necessity_. We have arrived at the period when we enjoy the fruits of competence--some of us, the luxuries of wealth. A taste for superior domestic animals has been increasing, and spreading over the United States for many years past; so that now, a portion of our farmers and country people understand somewhat of the subject. It has been thoroughly demonstrated, that good farm stock is better, and more profitable than poor stock. Still, a taste for good stock, and the advantages of keeping them, over the common stock of the country, is not _generally_ understood; and that taste has to be cultivated. It is not altogether a thing of nature, any more than other faculties which require the aid of education to develope. We have known many people who had a fine perception in many things: an eye for a fine house, pleasant grounds, beautiful trees, and all the surroundings which such a place might command; and when these were complete, would place about it the veriest brutes, in the way of domestic animals, imaginable. The resident of the city, who lives at his country-house in summer, and selects a picture of mean or inferior quality, to hang up in his house by way of ornament, would be laughed at by his friends; yet he may drive into his grounds the meanest possible creature, in the shape of a cow, a pig, or a sheep, and it is all very well--for neither he nor they know any better; yet, the one is quite as much out of place as the other. The man, too, who, in good circumstances, will keep and drive a miserable horse, is the ridicule of his neighbors, because everybody knows what a good horse is, and that he should be well kept. Yet, the other stock on his farm may be the meanest trash in existence, and it creates no remark. On the contrary, one who at any _extra_ cost has supplied himself with stock of the choicer kinds, let their superiority be ever so apparent, has often been the subject of ribaldry, by his unthinking associates. And such, we are sorry to say, is still the case in too many sections of our country. But, on the whole, both our public spirit, and our intelligence, is increasing, in such things. Now, we hold it to be a _practical_ fact, that no farm, or country place, can be complete in its appointments, without good stock upon it; and it is useless for any one to suppose that his farm, or his place, is _finished_, without it. The man who has a fine lawn, of any extent, about his house, or a park adjoining, should have something to graze it--for he cannot afford to let it lie idle; nor is it worth while, even if he can afford it, to be mowing the grass in it every fortnight during the summer, to make it sightly. Besides this, grass will grow under the trees, and that too thin, and short, for cutting. This ground must, of course, be pastured. Now, will he go and get a parcel of mean scrubs of cattle, or sheep, to graze it, surrounding his very door, and disgracing him by their vulgar, plebeian looks, and yielding him no return, in either milk, beef, mutton, or wool? Of course not, if he be a wise, or a provident man, or one who has any true taste in such matters. He will rather go and obtain the best stock he can get, of breeds suited to the climate, and soil, which will give him a profitable return, either in milk, or flesh, or their increase, for his outlay; and which will also embellish his grounds, and create an interest in his family for their care, and arrest the attention of those who visit him, or pass by his grounds. Of the proper selection of this branch of his stock, we shall now discourse. [Illustration] In cattle, if your grounds be rich, and your grass abundant, the short-horns are the stock for them. They are "the head and front," in appearance, size, and combination of good qualities--the very aristocracy of all neat cattle. A well-bred, and well developed short-horn cow, full in the qualities which belong to her character, is the very perfection of her kind. Her large, square form; fine orange, russet, or nut-colored muzzle; bright, prominent, yet mild, expressive eye; small, light horn; thin ears; clean neck; projecting brisket; deep, and broad chest; level back, and loin; broad hips; large, and well-spread udder, with its silky covering of hair, and clean, taper, wide-standing teats, giving twenty to thirty quarts of rich milk in a day; deep thigh, and twist; light tail; small, short legs; and, added to this, her brilliant and ever-varying colors of all, and every-intermingling shades of red, and white, or either of them alone; such, singly, or in groups, standing quietly under the shade of trees, grazing in the open field, or quietly resting upon the grass, are the very perfection of a cattle picture, and give a grace and beauty to the grounds which no living thing can equal. Here stands a short-horn cow, in all the majesty of her style and character! We add, also, a short-horn bull, which exhibits, in a high degree, the vigor, stamina, and excellence of his kind. Nor, in this laudation of the short-horns, are we at all mistaken. Go into the luxuriant blue-grass pastures of Kentucky; the rich, and wide-spread grazing regions of central, and lower Ohio; the prairies of Indiana, and Illinois, just now beginning to receive them; the sweet, and succulent pastures of central and western New York, or on the Hudson river; and now and then, a finely-cultivated farm in other sections of the United States, where their worth has become established; and they present pictures of thrift, of excellence, of beauty, and of profit, that no other neat cattle can pretend to equal. As a family cow, nothing can excel the short-horn, in the abundance and richness of her milk, and in the profit she will yield to her owner; and, on every place where she can be supplied with abundance of food, she stands without a rival. From the short-horns, spring those magnificent fat oxen and steers, which attract so much admiration, and carry off the prizes, at our great cattle shows. Thousands of them, of less or higher grade in blood, are fed every year, in the Scioto, the Miami, and the other great feeding valleys of the west, and in the fertile corn regions of Kentucky, and taken to the New York and Philadelphia markets. As a profitable beast to the grazier, and the feeder, nothing can equal them in early maturity and excellence. For this purpose, the short-horns are steadily working their way all over the vast cattle-breeding regions of the west; and, for the richness and abundance of her milk, the cow is eagerly introduced into the dairy, and milk-producing sections of the other states, where she will finally take rank, and maintain her superiority over all others, on rich and productive soils. [Illustration: DEVON COW. DEVON BULL.] On lighter soils, with shorter pastures; or on hilly and stony grounds, another race of cattle may be kept, better adapted to such localities, than those just described. They are the Devons--also an English breed, and claimed there as an aboriginal race in England; and if any variety of cattle, exhibiting the blood-like beauty, and fineness of limb, the deep, uniformity of color, and the gazelle-like brilliancy of their eye, can claim a remote ancestry, and a pure descent, the Devons can make such claim, beyond almost any other. They were introduced--save now and then an isolated animal at an earlier day--into the United States some thirty-two or three years ago, about the same time with the short-horns; and like them, have been added to, and improved by frequent importations since; until now, probably our country will show some specimens equal in quality to their high general character in the land of their nativity. Unlike the short-horn, the Devon is a much lighter animal, with a like fine expression of countenance; an elevated horn; more agile in form; yet finer in limb, and bone; a deep mahogany-red in color; and of a grace, and beauty in figure excelled by no other breed whatever. The Devon cow is usually a good milker, for her size; of quiet temper; docile in her habits; a quick feeder; and a most satisfactory animal in all particulars. From the Devons, spring those beautifully matched red working-oxen, so much admired in our eastern states; the superiors to which, in kindness, docility, endurance, quickness, and honesty of labor, no country can produce. In the _quality_ of their beef, they are unrivaled by any breed of cattle in the United States; but in their early maturity for that purpose, are not equal to the short-horns. We here present a cut of a Devon cow; but with the remark, that she presents a deficiency of bag, and stands higher on the leg, than she ought to do; and her leanness in flesh gives her a less graceful appearance than is her wont, when in good condition. We present, also, the cut of a Devon bull. This figure does not do him full justice, the head being drawn in, to give the cut room on the page. Several beautiful herds of Devons are to be found in New York, in Maryland, in Connecticut, and in Massachusetts; and some few in other states, where they can be obtained by those who wish to purchase. And it is a gratifying incident, to learn that both the breeds we have named are increasing in demand, which has created a corresponding spirit in those who breed them, to bestow their best attention in perfecting their good qualities. Another branch of domestic stock should also excite the attention of those who wish to embellish their grounds, as well as to improve the quality of their mutton--obtaining, withal, a fleece of valuable wool. These are the Southdown, and the Cotswold, Leicester, or other improved breeds of long-wooled sheep. There is no more peaceful, or beautiful small animal to be seen, in an open park, or pleasure ground, or in the paddock of a farm, than these; and as they have been of late much sought after, they will be briefly noticed. [Illustration: SOUTHDOWN RAM. SOUTHDOWN EWE.] [Illustration: LONG-WOOLED RAM. LONG-WOOLED EWE.] The Southdown, a cut of which we present, is a fine, compact, and solid sheep, with dark face and legs; quiet in its habits, mild in disposition, of a medium quality, and medium weight of fleece; and yielding a kind of mutton unsurpassed in flavor and delicacy--equal, in the estimation of many, to the finest venison. The carcass of a Southdown wether, when well fatted, is large, weighing, at two to three years old, a hundred to a hundred and twenty pounds. The ewe is a prolific breeder, and a good nurse. They are exceedingly hardy, and will thrive equally well in all climates, and on all our soils, where they can live. There is no other variety of sheep which has been bred to that high degree of perfection, in England. The great Southdown breeder, Mr. Webb, of Batraham, has often received as high as fifty, to one hundred guineas, in a season, for the _use_ of a single ram. Such prices show the estimation in which the best Southdowns are held there, as well as their great popularity among the English farmers. They are extensively kept in the parks, and pleasure grounds of the wealthy people, where things of profit are usually connected with those devoted to luxury. For this cut of the Southdown ewe, we are indebted to the kindness of Luther Tucker, Esq., of the Albany "Cultivator." The Cotswold, New Oxford, and Leicester sheep, of the long-wooled variety, are also highly esteemed, in the same capacity as the Southdowns. They are large; not so compactly built as the Southdowns; producing a heavy fleece of long wool, mostly used for combing, and making into worsted stuffs. They are scarcely so hardy, either, as the Southdowns; nor are they so prolific. Still, they have many excellent qualities; and although their mutton has not the fine grain, nor delicacy, of the other, it is of enormous weight, when well fattened, and a most profitable carcass. It has sometimes reached a weight of two hundred pounds, when dressed. They are gentle, and quiet in their habits; white in the face and legs; and show a fine and stately contrast to the Southdowns, in their increased size, and breadth of figure. They require, also, a somewhat richer pasture; but will thrive on any good soil, yielding sweet grasses. For the cut of the Cotswold ewe, we are also indebted to Mr. Tucker, of "The Cultivator." To show the contrast between the _common_ native sheep, and the improved breeds, of which we have spoken, a true portrait of the former is inserted, which will be readily recognized as the creature which embellishes, in so high a degree, many of the wild nooks, and rugged farms of the country! [Illustration: A COMMON SHEEP.] That the keeping of choice breeds of animals, and the cultivation of a high taste for them, is no _vulgar_ matter, with even the most exalted intellects, and of men occupying the most honorable stations in the state, and in society; and that they concern the retired gentleman, as well as the practical farmer, it is only necessary to refer to the many prominent examples in Great Britain, and our own country, within the last fifty years. The most distinguished noblemen of England, and Scotland, have long bred the finest of cattle, and embellished their home parks with them. The late Earl Spencer, one of the great patrons of agricultural improvement in England, at his death owned a herd of two hundred of the highest bred short-horns, which he kept on his home farm, at Wiseton. The Dukes of Bedford, for the last century and a half, have made extraordinary exertions to improve their several breeds of cattle. The late Earl of Leicester, better known, perhaps, as Mr. Coke, of Holkham, and the most celebrated farmer of his time, has been long identified with his large and select herds of Devons, and his flocks of Southdowns. The Duke of Richmond has his great park at Goodwood stocked with the finest Southdowns, Short-horns, and Devons. Prince Albert, even, has caught the infection of such liberal and useful example, and the royal park at Windsor is tenanted with the finest farm stock, of many kinds; and he is a constant competitor at the great Smithfield cattle shows, annually held in London. Besides these, hundreds of the nobility, and wealthy country gentlemen of Great Britain, every year compete with the intelligent farmers, in their exhibitions of cattle, at the royal and provincial shows, in England, Scotland, and Ireland. In the United States, Washington was a great promoter of improvement in farm stock, and introduced on to his broad estate, at Mount Vernon, many foreign animals, which he had sent out to him at great expense; and it was his pride to show his numerous and distinguished guests, his horses, cattle, sheep, and pigs. Henry Clay, of Kentucky, was among the first promoters of the improvement of domestic animals in the fertile region, of which his own favorite Ashland is the center; and to his continued efforts in the breeding of the finest short-horns, and mules, is the state of Kentucky greatly indebted for its reputation in these descriptions of stock. Daniel Webster has introduced on to his estate, at Marshfield, the finest cattle, and sheep suited to its soil and climate, and takes much pride in showing their good qualities. Indeed, we have never heard either of these two last remarkable men more eloquent, than when discoursing of their cattle, and of their pleasure in ranging over their pastures, and examining their herds and flocks. They have both been importers of stock, and liberal in their dissemination among their agricultural friends and neighbors. Public-spirited, patriotic men, in almost every one of our states, have either imported from Europe, or drawn from a distance in their own country, choice animals, to stock their own estates, and bred them for the improvement of their several neighborhoods. Merchants, and generous men of other professions, have shown great liberality, and the finest taste, in importing, rearing, and distributing over the country the best breeds of horses, cattle, sheep, and pigs. Their own beautiful home grounds are embellished with them, in a style that all the dumb statuary in existence can not equal in interest--models of grace, and beauty, and utility, which are in vain sought among the sculpture, or paintings of ancient time. And many a plain and unpretending farmer of our country, emulating such laudable examples, now shows in his luxuriant pastures, and well-filled barns and stables, the choicest specimens of imported stock; and their prizes, won at the cattle shows, are the laudable pride of themselves, and their families. Nor is this laudable taste, confined to _men_ alone. Females of the highest worth, and domestic example, both abroad and at home, cultivate a love for such objects, and take much interest in the welfare of their farm stock. We were at the annual state cattle show, in one of our large states, but a short time since, and in loitering about the cattle quarter of the grounds, met a lady of our acquaintance, with a party of her female friends, on a tour of inspection among the beautiful short-horns, and Devons, and the select varieties of sheep. She was the daughter of a distinguished statesman, who was also a large farmer, and a patron of great liberality, in the promotion of fine stock in his own state. She was bred upon the farm, and, to rare accomplishments in education, was possessed of a deep love for all rural objects; and in the stock of the farm she took a peculiar interest. Her husband was an extensive farmer, and a noted breeder of fine animals. She had her own farm, too, and cattle upon it, equally as choice as his, in her own right; and they were both competitors at the annual exhibitions. Introduced to her friends, at her request, we accompanied them in their round of inspection. There were the beautiful cows, and the younger cattle, and the sheep--all noticed, criticised, and remarked upon; and with a judgment, too, in their various properties, which convinced us of her sound knowledge of their physiology, and good qualities, which she explained to her associates with all the familiarity that she would a tambouring frame, or a piece of embroidery. There was no squeamish fastidiousness; no affectation of prudery, in this; but all natural as the pure flow of admiration in a well-bred lady could be. At her most comfortable, and hospitable residence, afterward, she showed us, with pride, the several cups, and other articles of plate, which her family had won as prizes, at the agricultural exhibitions; and which she intended to preserve, as heir-looms to her children. This is not a solitary example; yet, a too rare one, among our fair countrywomen. Such a spirit is contagious, and we witness with real satisfaction, their growing taste in such laudable sources of enjoyment: contrary to the _parvenue_ affectation of a vast many otherwise sensible and accomplished females of our cities and towns--comprising even the wives and daughters of farmers, too--who can saunter among the not over select, and equivocal representations, among the paintings and statuary of our public galleries; and descant with entire freedom, on the various attitudes, and artistical merits of the works before them; or gaze with apparent admiration upon the brazen pirouettes of a public dancing girl, amid all the equivoque of a crowded theater; and yet, whose delicacy is shocked at the exhibitions of a cattle show! Such females as we have noticed, can admire the living, moving beauty of animal life, with the natural and easy grace of purity itself, and without the slightest suspicion of a stain of vulgarity. From the bottom of our heart, we trust that a reformation is at work among our American women, in the promotion of a taste, and not only a taste, but a genuine _love_ of things connected with country life. It was not so, with the mothers, and the wives, of the stern and earnest men, who laid the foundations of their country's freedom and greatness. They were women of soul, character, and stamina; who grappled with the _realities_ of life, in their labors; and enjoyed its pleasures with truth and honesty. This over-nice, mincing delicacy, and sentimentality, in which their grand-daughters indulge, is but the off-throw of the boarding-school, the novelist, and the prude--mere "leather and prunella." Such remarks may be thought to lie beyond the line of our immediate labor. But in the discussion of the collateral subjects which have a bearing upon country life and residence, we incline to make a clean breast of it, and drop such incidental remark as may tend to promote the enjoyment, as well as instruction, of those whose sphere of action, and whose choice in life is amid the pure atmosphere, and the pure pleasures of the country. WATER-FOWLS. If a stream flow through the grounds, in the vicinity of the house; or a pond, or a small lake be near, a few varieties of choice water-fowls may be kept, adding much to the interest and amusement of the family. Many of the English nobility, and gentry, keep swans for such purpose. They are esteemed a bird of much grace and beauty, although silent, and of shy, unsocial habits, and not prolific in the production of their young. For such purposes as they are kept in England, the great African goose, resembling the China, but nearly double in size, is a preferable substitute in this country. It is a more beautiful bird in its plumage; equally graceful in the water; social, and gentle in its habits; breeding with facility, and agreeable in its voice, particularly at a little distance. The African goose will attain a weight of twenty to twenty-five pounds. Its body is finely formed, heavily feathered, and its flesh is of delicate flavor. The top of the head, and the back of its neck, which is long, high, and beautifully arched, is a dark brown; its bill black, with a high protuberance, or knob, at its junction with the head; a dark hazel eye, with a golden ring around it; the under part of the head and neck, a soft ash-color; and a heavy dewlap at the throat. Its legs and feet are orange-colored; and its belly white. Taken altogether, a noble and majestic bird. [Illustration: CHINA GOOSE.] The small brown China goose is another variety which may be introduced. She is nearly the color of the African, but darker; has the same black bill, and high protuberance on it, but without the dewlap under the throat; and has black legs and feet. She is only half the size of the other; is a more prolific layer,--frequently laying three or four clutches of eggs in a year; has the same character of voice; an equally high, arched neck, and is quite as graceful in the water. The neck of the goose in the cut should be one-third longer, to be an accurate likeness. The White China is another variety, in size and shape like the last, but perfectly white, with an orange colored bill and legs. Indeed, no swan can be more beautiful than this, which is of the same pure, clean plumage, and, in its habits and docility, equally a favorite with the others we have described. The Bremen goose is still another variety, of about the same size as the African, but in shape and appearance, not unlike the common goose, except in color, which is pure white. Young geese of this breed, at nine months old, frequently weigh twenty pounds, alive. We have had them of that weight, and for the table, none can be finer. They are equally prolific as the common goose, but, as a thing of ornament, are far behind the African and the China. Still, they are a stately bird, and an acquisition to any grounds where water-fowls are a subject of interest, convenience, or profit. All these birds are more domestic, if possible, than the common goose, and we have found them less troublesome, not inclined to wander abroad, and, in all the qualities of such a bird, far more agreeable. We have long kept them, and without their presence, should consider our grounds as incomplete, in one of the most attractive features of animated life. It is too much a fault of our farming population, that they do not pay sufficient attention to many little things which would render their homes more interesting, both to themselves, if they would only think so, and to their families, most certainly. If parents have no taste for such objects as we have recommended, or even others more common, they should encourage their children in the love of them, and furnish them for their amusement. The very soul of a farmer's home is to cluster every thing about it which shall make it attractive, and speak out the character of the country, and of his occupation, in its full extent. Herds and flocks upon the farm are a matter of course; and so are the horses, and the pigs. But there are other things, quite as indicative of household abundance, and domestic enjoyment. The pigeons, and the poultry of all kinds, and perhaps the rabbit warren, which are chiefly in charge of the good housewife, and her daughters, and the younger boys, show out the domestic feeling and benevolence of character in the family, not to be mistaken. It is a sign of enjoyment, of domestic contentment, and of mental cultivation, even, that will lead to something higher, and more valuable in after life; and it is in such light that it becomes an absolute _duty_ of the farmer who seeks the improvement and education of his children, to provide them with all these little objects, to engage their leisure hours and promote their happiness. How different a home like this from one--which is, really, not a home--where no attention is paid to such minor attractions; where a few starveling things, by way of geese, perhaps, picked half a dozen times a year, to within an inch of their lives, mope about the dirty premises, making their nightly sittings in the door yard, if the house has one; a stray turkey, or two, running, from fear of the untutored dogs, into the nearest wood, in the spring, to make their rude nests, and bring out half a clutch of young, and creeping about the fields through the summer with a chicken or two, which the foxes, or other vermin, have spared, and then dogged down in the winter, to provide a half got-up Christmas-dinner; and the hens about the open buildings all the year, committing their nuisances in every possible way! There need be no surer indication than this, of the utter hopelessness of progress for good, in such a family. A WORD ABOUT DOGS. We always loved a dog; and it almost broke our little heart, when but a trudging schoolboy, in our first jacket-and-trowsers, our kind mother made us take back the young puppy that had hardly got its eyes open, which we one day brought home, to be kept until it was fit to be taken from its natural nurse. We are now among the boys, John, Tom, and Harry; and intend to give them the benefit of our own experience in this line, as well as to say a few words to the elder brothers,--and fathers, even,--if they do not turn up their noses in contempt of our instruction, on a subject so much beneath their notice. We say that we love dogs: not _all_ dogs, however. But we love some dogs--of the right breeds. There is probably no other civilized country so dog-ridden as this, both in "Mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound, And curs of _low_ degree." Goldsmith, kind man that he was, must have been a capital judge of dogs, like many other poetical gentlemen. Still, other men than poets are sometimes good judges, and great lovers of dogs; but the mass of people are quite as well satisfied with one kind of dog as with another, so that it be a dog; and they too often indulge in their companionship, much to the annoyance of good neighborhood, good morals, and, indeed, of propriety, thrift, and common justice. Of all these we have nothing to say--here, at least. Ours is a "free country"--for dogs, if for nothing else. Nor shall we discuss the various qualities, or the different breeds of dogs for sporting purposes. We never go out shooting; nor do we take a hunt--having no taste that way. Perhaps in this we are to be pitied; but we are content as it is. Therefore we shall let the hounds, and pointers, and setters, the springers, and the land and the water spaniels, all alone. The mastiffs, and the bull dogs, too, we shall leave to those who like them. The poodle, and the little lap-dog of other kinds, also, we shall turn over to the kindness of those who--we are sorry for them, in having nothing better to interest themselves about--take a pleasure in keeping and tending them. We want to mix in a little _usefulness_, as well as amusement, in the way of a dog; and after a whole life, thus far, of dog companionship, and the trial of pretty much every thing in the line of a dog--from the great Newfoundland, of a hundred pounds weight, down to the squeaking little whiffet, of six--we have, for many years past, settled down into the practical belief that the small ratting terrier is the only one, except the shepherd dog, we care to keep; and of these, chiefly, we shall speak. There are many varieties of the Terrier. Some are large, weighing forty or fifty pounds, rough-haired, and savage looking. There is the bull-terrier, of less size, not a kindly, well-disposed creature to strangers; but irascibly inclined, and unamiable in his deportment; still useful as a watch-dog, and a determined enemy to all vermin, whatever. Then, again, are the small rat-terriers, as they are termed, weighing from a dozen to twenty pounds; some with rough, long, wiry hair; a fierce, whiskered muzzle; of prodigious strength for their size; wonderful instinct and sagacity; kind in temper; and possessing valuable qualities, bating a lack of beauty in appearance. They are of all colors, but are generally uniform in their color, whatever it be. Another kind, still, is the smooth terrier, of the same sizes as the last; a very pretty dog indeed; with a kinder disposition to mankind; yet equally destructive to vermin, and watchful to the premises which they inhabit, or of whatever else is put under their charge. The fidelity of the terrier to his master is wonderful; equal, if not superior to any other dog whatever. In courage and perseverance, in hardihood, and feats of daring, he has hardly an equal; and in general _usefulness,_ no dog can compare with him. [Illustration: THE SMOOTH TERRIER.] Sir Walter Scott, who was a great friend to dogs, as well as a nice and critical judge of their qualities, used to tell this story:--When a young man, first attending, as an advocate, the Jedburgh assizes, a notorious burglar engaged Sir Walter to defend him on his trial for housebreaking in the neighborhood. The case was a hard one; the proof direct and conclusive; and no ingenuity of the defence could avoid the conviction of the culprit. The matter was settled beyond redemption; and before he left for his imprisonment, or transportation, the thief requested Sir Walter to come into his cell. On meeting, the fellow frankly told his counsel that he felt very grateful to him for his efforts to clear him; that he had done the best he could; but the proof was too palpable against him. He would gladly reward Sir Walter for his services; but he had no money, and could only give him a piece of advice, which might, perhaps, be serviceable hereafter. Sir Walter heard him, no doubt, with some regret at losing his fee; but concluding to hear what he had to say. "You are a housekeeper, Mr. Scott. For security to your doors, use nothing but a common lock--if rusty and old, no matter; they are quite as hard to pick as any others. (Neither Chubbs' nor Hobbs' _non-pickable_ locks were then invented.) Then provide yourself with a small rat terrier, and keep him in your house at night. There is no safety in a mastiff, or bull-dog, or in a large dog of any breed. They can always be appeased and quieted, and burglars understand them; but a terrier can neither be terrified nor silenced; nor do we attempt to break in where one is known to be kept." Sir Walter heeded the advice, and, in his housekeeping experience, afterward, confirmed the good qualities of the terrier, as related to him by the burglar. He also commemorated the conversation by the following not exceedingly poetical couplet: "A terrier dog and a rusty key, Was Walter Scott's first Jedburgh fee." The terrier has a perfect, thorough, unappeasable instinct for, and hatred to all kinds of vermin. He takes to rats and mice as naturally as a cat. He will scent out their haunts and burrows. He will lie for hours by their places of passage, and point them with the sagacity of a pointer at a bird. He is as quick as lightning, in pouncing upon them, when in sight, and rarely misses them when he springs. A single bite settles the matter; and where there are several rats found together, a dog will frequently dispatch half a dozen of them, before they can get twenty feet from him. A dog of our own has killed that number, before they could get across the stable floor. In the grain field, with the harvesters, a terrier will catch hundreds of field-mice in a day; or, in the hay field, he is equally destructive. With a woodchuck, a raccoon, or anything of their size--even a skunk, which many dogs avoid--he engages, with the same readiness that he will a rat. The night is no bar to his vigils. He has the sight of an owl, in the dark. Minks, and weasels, are his aversion, as much as other vermin. He will follow the first into the water, till he exhausts him with diving, and overtakes him in swimming. He is a hunter, too. He will tree a squirrel, or a raccoon, as readily as the best of sporting dogs. He will catch, and hold a pig, or anything not too large or heavy for him. He will lie down on your garment, and watch it for hours; or by anything else left in his charge. He will play with the children, and share their sports as joyfully as a dumb creature can do; and nothing can be more affectionate, kind, and gentle among them. He is cleanly, honest, and seldom addicted to tricks of any kind. We prefer the high-bred, smooth, English terrier, to any other variety. They are rather more gentle in temper, and very much handsomer in appearance, than the rough-haired kind; but perhaps no better in their useful qualities. We have kept them for years; we keep them now; and no reasonable inducement would let us part with them. A year or two ago, having accidentally lost our farm terrier, and nothing remaining on the place but our shepherd dog, the buildings soon swarmed with rats. They were in, and about everything. During the winter, the men who tended the horses, and cattle, at their nightly rounds of inspection, before going to bed, would kill, with their clubs, three or four, in the barns and stables, every evening. But still the rats increased, and they became unendurable. They got into the grain-mows, where they burrowed, and brought forth with a fecundity second only to the frogs of Egypt. They gnawed into the granaries. They dug into the dairy. They entered the meat barrels. They carried off the eggs from the hen-nests. They stole away, and devoured, the young ducks, and chickens. They literally came into the "kneading troughs" of the kitchen. Oh! the rats were intolerable! Traps were no use. Arsenic was innocuous--they wouldn't touch it. Opportunity favored us, and we got two high-bred, smooth, English terriers--a dog, and a slut. Then commenced such a slaughter as we seldom see. The rats had got bold. The dogs caught them daily by dozens, as they came out from their haunts, fearless of evil, as before. As they grew more shy, their holes were watched, and every morning dead rats were found about the premises. The dogs, during the day, pointed out their holes. Planks were removed, nests were found, and the rats, young and old, killed, _instanter_. Hundreds on hundreds were slaughtered, in the first few weeks; and in a short time, the place was mostly rid of them, until enough only are left to keep the dogs "in play," and to show that in spite of all precaution, they will harbor wherever there is a thing to eat, and a possible place of covert for them to burrow. To have the terrier in full perfection, it is important that the breed be _pure_. We are so prone to mix up everything we get, in this country, that it is sometimes difficult to get anything exactly as it should be; but a little care will provide us, in this particular. He should be properly trained, too, when young. That is, to mind what is said to him. His intelligence will be equal to all your wants in the _dog_-line; but he should not be _fooled_ with. His instincts are _sure_. And, with a good education, the terrier will prove all you need in a farm, and a watch-dog. We speak from long experience, and observation. [Illustration: THE SHEPHERD DOG.] The shepherd dog is another useful--almost indispensable--creature, on the sheep, or dairy farm. This cut is an accurate representation of the finest of the breed. To the flock-master, he saves a world of labor, in driving and gathering the flocks together, or from one field, or place, to another. To the sheep-drover, also, he is worth a man, at least; and in many cases, can do with a flock what a man can not do. But for this labor, he requires training, and a strict, thorough education, by those who know how to do it. He is a peaceable, quiet creature; good for little else than driving, and on a stock farm will save fifty times his cost and keeping, every year. He is a reasonably good watch-dog, also; but he has neither the instinct, nor sagacity of the terrier, in that duty. To keep him in his best estate, for his own peculiar work, he should not be troubled with other labors, as it distracts his attention from his peculiar duties. We had a remarkably good dog, of this kind, a few years since. He was worth the services of a stout boy, in bringing up the cattle, and sheep, until an idle boy or two, in the neighborhood, decoyed him out in "_cooning_," a few nights during one autumn--in which he proved a most capital hunter; and after that, he became worthless, as a cattle dog. He was always rummaging around among the trees, barking at birds, squirrels, or any live thing that he could find; and no man could coax him back to the dull routine of his duty. A shepherd dog should never go a-hunting. We would not be understood as condemning everything else, excepting the dogs we have named, for farm use. The Newfoundland, and the mastiff, are enormously large dogs, and possessed of some noble qualities. They have performed feats of sagacity and fidelity which have attracted universal admiration; but, three to one, if you have them on your farm, they will kill every sheep upon it; and their watchfulness is no greater than that of the shepherd dog, or the terrier. We have spoken of such as we have entire confidence in, and such as we consider the best for useful service. There are some kinds of cur dog that are useful. They are of no _breed_ at all, to be sure; but have, now and then, good qualities; and when nothing better can be got, they will do for a make-shift. But as a rule, we would be equally particular in the _breed_ of our dog, as we would in the breed of our cattle, or sheep. There are altogether too many dogs kept, in the country, and most usually by a class of people who have no need of them, and which prove only a nuisance to the neighborhood, and a destruction to the goods of others. Thousands of useful sheep are annually destroyed by them; and in some regions of the country, they can not be kept, by reason of their destruction by worthless dogs, which are owned by the disorderly people about them. In a western state, some time ago, in conversing with a large farmer, who had a flock of perhaps a hundred sheep running in one of his pastures, and who also kept a dozen hounds, for hunting, we asked him whether the dogs did not kill his sheep? "To be sure they do," was his reply; "but the dogs are worth more than the sheep, for they give us great sport in hunting deer, and foxes; and the sheep only give us a little mutton, now and then, and some wool for the women to make into stockings!" This is a mere matter of taste, thought we, and the conversation on that subject dropped. Yet, this man had a thousand acres of the richest land in the world; raised three or four hundred acres of corn, a year; fed off a hundred head of cattle, annually; and sold three hundred hogs every year, for slaughtering! * * * * * Books Published by C. M. SAXTON, 152 Fulton Street, New York, Suitable for School, Town, Agricultural, and Private Libraries. The American Farm Book; The American Farm Book; or, a Compend of American Agriculture, being a Practical Treatise on Soils, Manures, Draining, Irrigation, Grasses, Grain, Roots, Fruits, Cotton, Tobacco, Sugar-Cane, Rice, and every staple product of the United States; with the best methods of Planting, Cultivating, and Preparation for Market. Illustrated by more than 100 engravings. By R. L. Allen. Cloth, $1; mail edition, paper, 75 cts. 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Journal of Agriculture. Edited by John S. Skinner. 3 vols. $6. Downing's Horticulturist. Half morocco. Per Vol. yearly Vols. $3.75. Do. do. half yearly " 2.00. The Complete Produce Reckoner, Showing the Value by Pound or Bushel. By R. Robbins. 75 cts. The American Shepherd. By L. A. Morrill. $1. The Principles of Agriculture. By Albert D. Thaer. $2.50. Lectures to Farmers on Agricultural Chemistry. By Alexander Petzholdts. 75 cts. The Complete Farrier. By John C. Knowlson. 25 cts. The Complete Cow Doctor. By J. C. Knowlson. 25 cts. Milch Cows. By Guenon. 38 cts. A Home for All; Or a New, Cheap, and Superior mode of Building. By O. S. Fowler. 50 cts. The Poultry Breeder. By George P. Burnham. 25 cts. The American Fowl Breeder. 25 cts. The Farmer's Companion. By Judge Buel. 75 cts. The Farmer's Instructor. By Judge Buel. $1. European Agriculture, From Personal Observation. By Henry Coleman. 2 vols. $5.00. Do. do. do. 1 vol. $4.50. The Gardener and Florist. 25 cts. The Honey Bee. By Bevan. 31 cts. Elements of Practical Agriculture. By John P. Norton. 50 cts. Rogers' Scientific Agriculture. 75 cts. Mills' Sportsman's Library. $1. Stable Talk and Table Talk. $1. Hawker and Porter on Shooting. $2.75. Field Sports. By Frank Forrester. 2 vols. $4 Fish and Fishing. By Frank Forrester. $2.50. The American Angler's Guide. By J. J. Brown. $1.50. Johnson's Farmer's Encyclopedia. Edited by G. Emerson, M.D. $4. Scientific and Practical Agriculture. By Alonzo Gray. 75 cts. Theory and Practice of Agriculture. By A. Partridge. 12 cts. Armstrong on Agriculture. 50 cts. Hovey's Magazine of Horticulture. Published monthly. Per annum $2. Downing' Horticulturist. Published monthly. Per annum $3. Gilpin's Landscape Gardening. English edition. $2.50. The Gardener's Calendar. By M. Mahon. $3.50. Agriculture for Schools. By Rev. J. L. Blake, D.D. $1. Text Book of Agriculture. By Davis. 50 cts. The American Agriculturist and Farmer's Cabinet. Published monthly. Per annum $1. Weeks on the Honey Bee. Cottages and Cottage Life. By Elliott. $2.25. Chemical Analysis. By Fresinus and Bullock. $1. Applied Chemistry. By A. Parnell. $1. The Vegetable Kingdom, Or Handbook of Plants. By L. D. Chapin. $1.25. The Muck Manual. A new edition. By Samuel L. Dana. 75 cts. Youatt on the Horse. Edited by J. S Skinner. $1.50. Clater's Farrier. 50 cts. The Dog and Sportsman. By J. S. Skinner. cts. The Bird Keeper's Manual. 50 cts. The American Herd Book. By Lewis F. Allen. $_ The American Orchardist. By J. Kenrick. 75 cts. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Invisible punctuation has been silently supplied. The spellings "chesnut" and "chestnut", "turkeys" and "turkies" are used interchangeably; the forms "mantle piece" and "mantle-piece" occur one time each. The spelling "Alleghanies" is used consistently. Other errors are individually noted. _Table of Contents_ Indentation of the Contents does not always correspond to chapters and subchapters of the body text, and many entries have different names. All secondary indentations were added by the transcriber, representing text sections that have no distinct header. There is no separate list of illustrations. PREFATORY ... 9 _in body text, "Prefatory" covers pgs. ix-xv_ Miscellaneous Details _indented in printed Contents, as if a subsection of "Design II"_ Tree Planting in the Highway _indented in printed Contents, as if a subsection of "Design IV"_ Design VII ... Miscellaneous ... Lawns, Grounds, Parks, and Woods _printed Contents shows Miscellaneous as a chapter heading, with Lawns... indented as a subsection_ Fruit Garden ... Kitchen Garden ... Flowers _all shown in body text as separate chapters_ Explanations (under Rabbits) _not indented in printed Contents_ The Butter Dairy _shown in body text as a separate chapter_ The Water Ram ... 337 _text reads "237"_ Short Horn Bull ... 349 Short Horn Cow ... 352 _pages reversed: bull is on 352, cow on 349_ _Body Text_ [frontispiece] _illustration is shown again on page 85_ its huge chimneys, its wide fire-places the huge, deep fire-places _hyphens in original: normal for text is "fireplaces"_ The Swiss chalêt _error for "châlet"?_ their good farming neighbors didn't call on them _text reads "did'nt"_ an entrance door near the wood house _form "wood house" unchanged: normal for text is "wood-house" (but note title page)_ Within doors it is a work-shop too. _hyphen in original: normal for text is "workshop"_ so perfectly in keeping was it with propriety. _text has final comma_ In the front and rear roofs of this wing is a dormer window _text reads "dormar"_ small-tool-house _hyphens in original_ The Lombardy-poplar--albeit, an object of fashionable derision _hyphen in original: normal for text is "Lombardy poplar"_ four stacks of chimnies _spelling unchanged_ dogwood, kalmia, and rhododendron _text reads "rhodendendron"_ while the fibrous-rooted perennials _text reads "perenials"_ a seeming humility _text reads "humilty"_ tool-house, piggery, poultry-house, corn-crib _text reads "con-crib"_ about the size of a common window button _text unchanged: error for "batten"?_ to support the comb as it is built _text reads "as t is" with blank space_ and why not hen's? _apostrophe in original_ what she lays in winter must be subtracted _text reads "substracted"_ should then be placed one inch below _text reads "theu"_ the collections throughout the country _text reads "throughout the the"_ he applied to his turnep crop _spelling unchanged_ require the aid of education to develope. _spelling unchanged_ the finest Southdowns, Short-horns, and Devons _capitalization as in original: normal for text is "short-horns"_ but irascibly inclined _text reads "irrascibly"_ He will tree a squirrel _text reads "sqirrel"_ _Advertising Pages_ Punctuation of book titles is unchanged. The Complete Farmer and American Gardener ... 2 vols. _numeral "2" unclear_ Rural Architecture ... Piggeries ... _text reads "Pigeries"_ Experimental Researches on the Food of Animals ... Thompson ... _name usually found as "Thomson"_ The Fruits and Fruit Trees of America ... colored, 15.00. _no $ sign_ The Plants of Boston and Vicinity. _text reads "o Boston" with empty space_ Downing' Horticulturist. _missing "s" in "Downing's"_ The Muck Manual ... By Samuel L. Dana ... _text reads "Da a" with empty space_ The Dog and Sportsman ... cts. _price missing, with no extra space_ The American Herd Book ... $_. _number illegible, possibly "2"_