ted. 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