H ouse and Garden 
privacy, while the hedged alcove gives a quiet and 
secluded nook. 
The projecting terrace off the dining-room, glazed 
in, serves as a winter conservatory, and the house and 
grounds fulfill, to his satisfaction, the requirements 
of G. 
In a New Jersey village was a lot upon a corner 
Fig. 5. The street, whose trend was east and west, was 
the main street of this community, while the other 
was of minor importance. At their ]unction stands 
the house of Mrs. M. 
The ground slopes sharply toward the south, so 
much so that the basement at the rear stands wholly 
out of ground. 
I he village lies on the southern slope of the moun¬ 
tains, and the view—save that of the village street, 
dusty and tame lies altogether to the south, across 
a valley through which a river Hows to Morristown 
and the Orange Hills. Hence the house was built 
as shown. 
Set almost upon the street, to keep the cellar floor 
at grade and give as large a garden as might he; the 
dining-room with a projecting bay to catch the 
morning sun; the living-room, where lies the pros¬ 
pect; the minor offices, upon the main street front. 
This last, to the consternation of all neighbors, 
critics and general wiseacres. These said the posi¬ 
tion of the living-room was “quite unusual;” the 
poking of the house up in the corner was “absurd,” 
but the pantry on the main street was “the limit.” 
The house was “anathema” until finished, occupied, 
and visited. It is now pronounced “most satis¬ 
factory,” “individual,” and “wise.” 
Perhaps, of these illustrations, a house- -Fig. 6— 
built in a minor city upon the north shore of Long 
Island Sound, by an architect for his own occupancy, 
is the best example of the wisdom of a radical de¬ 
parture from conventional arrangement under quite 
usual and commonplace conditions. 
The plot, about one hundred and fifty feet square, 
with a few fine trees in its southern half, lay upon a 
long, gentle southern slope at the bottom of which, 
and perhaps half a mile away, was the Shore drive 
and the waters of the Sound. What view there was 
lay in that direction, hut this was fugitive, glimpses 
between houses and the foliage of trees. Boldly was 
the house set, its narrow end to the street as near the 
northern boundary as a driveway and space for 
planting a screen of trees would permit. All the 
living-rooms open to the prospect, to the sun and 
the cool southerly breeze of summer and are pro¬ 
tected from the cold north winds of winter. I he 
expanse of lawn,its privacy, and the great trees remain; 
all that the plot could give in inherent advantage has 
been retained. Imagine this in the hands of the 
Philistine. 
The house in the centre of the plot, its front to 
the street, its side to the sun and air, its face to the 
cold; the trees gone, the lawn frittered away by sub¬ 
division; all charm and individuality departed. 
The usual, the commonplace, the wasteful. Waste¬ 
ful because the gifts the gods provided have been 
thrown away. 
In the same city, some little distance away, but 
under very different conditions was built a house 
for Mr. J.—Fig. 7. 
Fhe lot was but fifty-one feet in width by some 
two hundred and sixty in depth, and lay upon a 
slope that dropped from the street to the rear the 
east -some twenty feet. This slope continued to a 
valley, then rose, studded with trees and houses, to 
a ridge. Across this valley was the view; that in 
front being the usual suburban street with a quarter¬ 
ing prospect down its length to the Sound. Note 
the boldness of the entrance on the side, insuring a 
living-room of generous size; how advantage is 
taken of the view across the valley and the garden, 
in the placing of the dining-room with its attendant 
screened loggia and its exposure to the morning 
sun; how this same view is made part of the vista 
through the house and framed in, as a picture, by 
the great window of this room. 
Consider the charm of a breakfast in that vine- 
clad loggia on a June morning, the rose garden at 
one’s feet, the sun filtering through the lattice upon 
white linen and sparkling glass, the distance from 
the street, insuring privacy and quiet; both planning 
and fenestration of the adjoining house so done as 
to guard this loggia, and the entrance, from direct 
observation. This was the way of the building of 
the house of J. upon, that bugbear of the designer, 
the long and narrow lot. 
The experience of the author of these remarks with 
his own clients, and his observation of the results of 
the experience of other architects with theirs, has 
led him to believe that the subject matter of this 
inquiry does not always receive its due consider¬ 
ation. 
If, without adding one jot to the cost, in dollars, 
of the house, something of benefit, comfort and 
beauty may be added to it, the taking pains is well 
worth while; and if these remarks may cause any¬ 
one to consider the wisdom of taking such pains, 
they have accomplished their object. 
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