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