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