ont hall. My wife can't think of pantry and
store-rooms at the south side, nor do we want kitchen or outer door at
the north. John's sister-in-law, Miss Jane, who appears to have some
sensible notions, thinks a kitchen should always have windows on
opposite sides for light and ventilation. John says I should have a
kitchen large enough for wash-trays and a set kettle, but one of my
neighbors, who has just built a house, advises a laundry in the
cellar. Altogether it's a troublesome problem, and, frankly, I give
it up.

Do you really expect us to dispense with sliding-doors between the
parlors? I'm sure that won't pass. We would almost as soon give up the
bay-windows,--everybody has them nowadays.

Truly,

Fred.

LETTER XXV.

From the Architect.

DOORS AND SLIDING-DOORS, WINDOWS AND BAY-WINDOWS.

DEAR FRED: "Everybody has them!" What a monstrous load of iniquity and
nonsense that scape-goat has to carry! Everybody wears tight boots and
bustles and chignons and stove-pipe hats. Everybody smokes and brags,
and cheats in trade, not to mention a host of other abominations that
can give only this excuse for their being: they are common to a few
millions of people who have not learned to declare a reason for the
faith that is in them or the works that grow out of them.

Let us take time to consider this sliding-door
question,--folding-doors they used to be, and, truly, I'm not sure
that the rollers are any improvement on the hinges,--there is
something dreadfully barny about sliding-doors. Why do you want
either? You have one room which you call the parlor, supposed to be
the best in the house, as to its location, its finish, its furniture,
and its use. Three of its walls are handsomely frescoed, curtained,
and decorated with pictures or other ornaments; the fourth is one huge
barricade of panel-work. When the two parts are closed you have a
constant fancy of rheumatic currents stealing through the cracks, and
an ever-present fear lest they should suddenly fly open with
"impetuous recoil, grating harsh thunder" on their wheels, and not
exactly letting Satan in, but everything in the room fall out; an idle
fear, for they can only be shoved asunder by dint of much pushing and
pulling, especially if they are warped by having one side exposed to
more heat than the other, as usually happens. Being at last opened by
hook or crook, another room is revealed, commonly smaller, more shabby
in appearance, a sort of po