hotels, lodging-houses, double-barrelled tenements, and other public and semi-public buildings from which a short cut to the street is essential?  Don’t tell me you wish them to be ornamental as well as useful.  I know that; but remember the stairs are built for the house, not the house for the stairs.  You had better lose them wholly as an ornamental feature, than destroy the charm of what should be the most prepossessing portion of the interior.  Moreover, they can have no pleasure-giving beauty if manifestly out of place,—­a safe rule for general application.  Build them where they will be most useful, that is, as near the centre of the house as possible; make them grand and gorgeous as the steps to an Oriental palace,—­so broad and easy of ascent that the upward and onward way will be as tempting as were the Alps to Mr. Longfellow’s aspiring youth.  But keep them away from the front door,—­out of the principal hall, which should be open, airy, and free, suggesting something besides an everlasting getting up stairs.  If the staircase hall cannot be arranged at right angles to the main hall, an arch or ornamental screen may be introduced, partially separating the two and giving character to both.

Have you been living in a city of late?  It must be, else why so complacent with a narrow hall, steep, obtrusive stairs, and, O, why, tell me why, do you not fix the location of your windows with some regard to views, not only out of the house but through it.  I remember one country dwelling built by a retired civilian in the inevitable city style; windows at the end giving a narrow view of the road in front, while the entire side walls were absolutely blank and bare, never so much as a knot-hole through which the occupants could get a glimpse of the field and forest that stretched broadly away at either side.  I’ve no doubt the owner hung oil-paintings on his parlor walls, and thought them more lovely than all out-doors,—­especially when he remembered their cost.  The old Roman who declared his soldiers made a bigger racket with their arms than Jupiter with his thunderbolts, was modest beyond comparison with such a man.  Your arrangement is not quite so bad as that of the aforesaid civilian, but, like hosts of others, you fail to make the most of your opportunities.  Suppose you were able to secure for a small sum a landscape painted by one of the masters and esteemed of great value.  You would think it folly to let the chance pass unimproved.  By simply cutting a hole in the wall you may have a picture infinitely grander than human artist ever painted; grander in its teaching, in its actual beauty, its variety, and its permanency; grander in everything except its market value.  I am not sure but your children’s children will find some one window in the old homestead that commands a view of the everlasting hills, an heirloom even of greater pecuniary value than the rarest work of art.  Do not forget, either, the views through the house.  If your windows