30 JANUARY 1869, Page 13

HOUSE-BUILDING.

ITO TIIE EDITOR OF THE ••SPECTATOIL-1 Sin,—A few years ago it was considered advisable for the sake of my health that I should live a little way out of London. 1 spent a good deal of time in looking out for a house, some weeks perhaps, but could see nothing that suited me. At last I found one that I thought would do. It seemed substantially built, something better than suburban houses are generally, and the rent was low. I took it for a term of three years, miserable mile! and before I had been in it six mouths would have given the rent for all the remainder of the term, if I had Ind the money, to have got rid of the bargain. In summer time it was tolerably pleasant; but in winter it was dreadful. The wind came through the thin walls and the tall windows without any let or hindrance whatsoever, and the chimneys smoked so intolerably that it was with great difficulty we could keep a fire alight. We have sat in one of those sitting-rooms cowering under a fence of railway rugs, propped up by walking-sticks on the sofa, and with the thermometer down to 38'. I should exceed the space at your disposal if I were to tell all that happened to us while we were there, or what happened to us after we left. We got into a house where the water came in, and during every shower the hand-buins and sponging-baths had to be arranged all over the bedrooms and staircases. We got into another where the partition walls between us and the next " villa " were half-a-brick thick, and we heard a piano all day long as distinctly as if it were in our own room. That was the worst infliction of all, worse tInsn rain or wind. There was no escape from it. The noise travelled over the whole place like electricity over wires, and almost drove Us to desperation. All sorts of expedients were tried, such as stuffing cotton is our ears when we went to bed and thumping at the wall with pokers. It was of no use, and that twelvemonth was perhaps the most wretched of all my existence. At last, weary of failure after failure to find even a decent house at a moderate rent, I scraped together what little money I Intel, borrowed 801118 more, and determined to build. I knew every inch of all the country within fifteen miles of Loudon in the direction in which I wished to go, and was consequently enabled at once to pitch upon a small piece of freehold land at a low price in a good mituatiou. The next thing to be done was to get an architect. How 1 got mine I shall not tell, because I don't want to make my letter au advertisement. Suffice to say, I did get one who thoroughly understood what I wanted, and we set to work.

The problem we had to solve was this : to build a detached house, with two sitting-rooms, study, four bedrooms, and offices, in the most solid manner, and to provide for warmth all over it, for £800. In due time I was furnished with a plan. It was one of the most ingenious for economizing space and providing all aorta of conveniences I ever saw. The principal sitting-rooms were sixteen feet by fourteen, and one of them had a pleasant hay window. The two principal bedrooms were a little larger awl lofty, while the other two bedrooms were yet big enough to put in each of them a couple of children or two servants. 'cliere was no lath and plaster, all the rooms being divided one from the other by nine-inch brick walls; and in the passage a corner was found for a fireplace, whereby to heat in frosty weather the stairs and bedrooms adjoining. In order to bring our estimates within the necessary limits, we had to economize in a good many ways, and this is how we did it,. The outside walls up to the top of the ground floor were of fourteeninch brickwork. In order to avoid stucco we had timber above, covered with three courses of common red tiles, after the fashion of numberless old cottages which you may see any day in the more remote parts of Sussex and Surrey. Above the tiles, in the gables which front the road, we put plaster, with the woodwork showing through. These tiles are the abhorrence and scandal of all my neighbours, who are utterly unable to comprehend a building near London which is not "in the Gothic," nor yet stucco. They come up the road on purpose to stand opposite, stare, grin, and murmur. With what unanimity they all hit upon the same observation is wonderful—" That man must have been his own architect." however, I have had my reward. I have not had to endure the stucco which I hate, and yet during all these tremendous gales, with almost horizontal rain, not a drop has penetrated through my tiles, while it has driven through many of the neighbours' " villas" as if they were tissue-paper, even where the brickwork was unusually • good. But it was in the fittings that we saved the most. We have no expensive grates. The fireplaces are in the form of a prism standing on end. The sides of the prism are of fire-brick, and across the base are three firebars. Down the sides nearest the roma are two rows of glazed tiles. These fire-places, again, to all who came to see were the subject of immense mirth, but they arc incomparably the best and cheapest fireplaces I ever saw. The bricks give out great heat, the fire draws wonderfully, and never once in any wind whatsoever have we had a puff of smoke in any of the rooms. Besides, they look just what they are intended to be, black receptacles for coals, and they make no pretence to be works of art. The mantelpieces are all wood. They ought, of course, to have been of marble with the regulation scroll ; but it appeared to me that we could be just as happy with wood, and so we put up with them. The shutters are plain outside shutters, like those which are used in labourers' cottages. These, again, are an utter abomination to villadom. But my shutters cost about a third of the ordinary shutter inside with pulleys and boxes, and they have this merit, that on a cold night they intercept the wind before it gets on the glass, and consequently keep the room much warmer. Moreover, they are a real protection against thieves, and if I chose to line them with iron and put on an extra bolt or two would be impregnable. All finery of every kind, mouldings around the ceilings and doors, graining, &c., was cut out. In order to save our carpets, the floors are stained for two feet from the wall, and a square piece of Kidderminster carpet put in the middle. After a few days it lies perfectly flat without. any nails, and once a month it is just rolled up, shaken, and the floor washed. Consequently, we not only save money, but get rid of that reservoir of dust and dirt a Brussels carpet fitted to the room, and we have the pleasant consciousness that there is no mass of filth hidden under our feet, to remain there till the annual clean-up comes. On the other hand, as a set-off against these economies, we have been, as I said, extravagant in thick brick partitions between all the rooms, even between the bedrooms. We have a large itudergrounl tank of soft water, three months' supply of it. We have a central artery of warm air permeating the whole building. We have a massive solid staircase, broad and firm. We have a little wine cellar deep underground, of an even temperature in all weathers. We have cupboards and store closets just where they are wanted. We haveventilation in all the bedrooms independently of the windows. We have perfect drainage, and we have, above all things, peace and quietude, and a certain happy consciousness that we are surrounded by honest work which will last. But I have not written to you to.praise my house. What I have written to you, Sir, is to prove by my own example how stupid is the maxim about fools building houses. 'rile fool, I should say, is the man who buys one, unless he himself has seen almost every brick laid. I have now paid my last bill, and I find my "extras" will be /20. The interest on the outlay equivalent to rent, will be about .£50. This of coarse includes the interest on the purchase of the freehold site and a good garden. Let those who, like myself, have had enough of the " villa " do as I have done. I have only three words of advice to give. Above all things, be careful about the architect. Absolutely everything depends on him. Secondly, don't take up with a "style," but study the inside of the house, and let the outside fit itself to the inside as best it may. I don't for an instant pretend to say my cottage is handsome. Rather the reverse. Thirdly, avoid building societies. I was very near applying to one, but the secretary happened to be my intimate friend. I asked him how much dividend he paid. "Twelve per cent." was the reply, whereupon I put two and two together, and went

elsewhere.—I am, Sir, &c., W. II. W.