The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 14, No. 85, November, 1864: A Magazine of Literature, Art, and PoliticsVarious
History
The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 14, No. 85, November, 1864: A Magazine of Literature, Art, and Politics
Various
American periodicals
So goes the discussion till the trio agree to sleep over it. The next
morning an inspiration visits my wife's pillow. She is up and seizes
plans and paper, and before six o'clock has enlarged the parlor very
cleverly, by throwing out a bow-window. So waxes and wanes the
prospective house, innocently battered down and rebuilt with
India-rubber and black-lead. Doors are cut out to-night, and walled up
to-morrow,--windows knocked out here and put in there, as some observer
suggests possibilities of too much or too little draught. Now all seems
finished, when, lo, a discovery! There is no fireplace nor stove-flue in
my lady's bed-room, and can be none without moving the bathing-room.
Pencil and India-rubber are busy again, and for a while the whole house
seems to threaten to fall to pieces with the confusion of the moving;
the bath-room wanders like a ghost, now invading a closet, now
threatening the tranquillity of the parlor, till at last it is laid by
some unheard-of calculations of my wife's, and sinks to rest in a place
so much better that everybody wonders it never was thought of before.
"Papa," said Jennie, "it appears to me people don't exactly know what
they want when they build; why don't you write a paper on
house-building?"
"I have thought of it," said I, with the air of a man called to settle
some great reform. "It must be entirely because Christopher has not
written that our young people and mamma are tangling themselves daily in
webs which are untangled the next day."
"You see," said Jennie, "they have only just so much money, and they
want everything they can think of under the sun. There's Bob been
studying architectural antiquities, and nobody knows what, and sketching
all sorts of curly-whorlies; and Marianne has her notions about a parlor
and boudoir and china-closets and bedroom-closets; and Bob wants a
baronial hall; and mamma stands out for linen-closets and bathing-rooms
and all that; and so among them all it will just end in getting them
head over ears in debt."
The thing struck me as not improbable.
"I don't know, Jennie, whether my writing an article is going to prevent
all this; but as my time in the 'Atlantic' is coming round, I may as
well write on what I am obliged to think of, and so I will give a paper
on the subject to enliven our next evening's session."
So that evening, when Bob and Marianne had dropped in as usual, and
while the customary work of drawing and rubbing-out was going on at Mrs.
Crowfield's sofa, I produced my paper and read as follows:--
OUR HOUSE.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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