The Livable House 



It seems hardly necessary to write admonitions against the need- 

 lessly serpentine walk. The path which winds its way across 

 thirty unobstructed feet of front lawn is an error we like to think 

 of as Victorian, for almost every one has come to realize that' a 

 path, in order to curve pleasingly, must have some excuse, either 

 natural or artificial, for curving. The average dooryard path 

 performs its duty best and is therefore most attractive in running 

 a straightforward course from gate to door. The inevitable ex- 

 ceptions to this rule bring their own solutions. 



The two points which remain unconsidered in a choice of the 

 house site — drainage and grading — are more or less interdepend- 

 ent. When the question of good drainage arises the prospective 

 house builder naturally looks about for a hill on which to place 

 his house. And in this connection a popular fallacy has grown 

 up about the location of the house which is as firmly adhered to, 

 as is the idea that stripes make fat people look thin. If a piece 

 of property offers a choice of sites, one of which is a hilltop, the 

 owner invariably chooses the highest point, telling himself that 

 high ground is healthful and that low ground is the haunt of 

 mosquitoes, dampness, and disease; and that, moreover, the view 

 from his hilltop is unexcelled and affords a complete panorama 

 of the countryside. What he overlooks in such a choice is that 

 his view probably includes all of his neighbor's houses and barns, 

 whereas if he were just under the brow of the hill he would escape 

 these, along with the racking winter winds of the hilltop, and 

 at the same time have the feeling of greater space and breadth 

 which comes with privacy. Almost always his own place will 



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