been if I had left the painter
to his own devices. It seems very clear to say you'll have the outside
painted a sort of a kind of subdued gray, with trimmings a little
darker, bordering on a brown; but unless you stand over the paint-tub
with a loaded revolver, you'll get anything but what you expect. It
may be a great deal better, but it won't be what you wanted. By the
way, there's a great responsibility resting on the painters,--I don't
mean the old masters, nor the young ones either, who seem to have
forgotten that outside decoration was once considered quite worthy the
tallest genius,--but the more modest artisans, who call themselves
house and sign painters. Their broad brush often makes the beauty or
the ugliness of a whole village. I'm ready for any suggestions on the
subject. Hanging the doors is another point that needs watching.
They'll be sure to open the wrong way. I've had three changed already,
and I'll never hang another door with less than three butts, whatever
its size. I suppose they always settle more or less. Why don't the
workmen make allowance for it in fixing the catches? I tremble when I
think of the painters, but I rejoice at my watchfulness when I reflect
on the plumbing. The chances for leaking and freezing and bursting;
the hidden pipes and secret crooks that were possible and only
avoided by constant oversight! Now I can put my hand on every foot of
pipe in the house, know where it goes to, what it's for, and that it
won't burst or spring a leak with fair usage. I don't call it just the
thing to drive a tenpenny nail square through a lead pipe, pull it
out, and say nothing about it. You want to be on hand, too, when the
trimmings are put on, and see that they are not too high or low, or
fixed so you will bruise your knuckles every time you pull out the
drawers or open the cupboard doors. Speaking of cupboards, there's no
end to the bother if you don't just camp down in the pantry and stay
there till the top shelf is up and the bottom drawer slides in its
groove. In spite of our efforts, Mrs. John says there's no place for
her tallest covered dish except the top shelf, which she can't reach
without a step-ladder. You'll never know whether you are specially
bright or the joiners extra stupid, but it's certain your way won't
be their way, whichever is right. I say the man who pays his money
should take his choice. But I haven't time to tell the whole story.
It's the same thing from first to la