In presenting to the public a new work on Domestic Architecture, it is our aim to furnish practical designs and plans, adapted to the requirements of such as are about to build, or remodel and improve, their Country Homes.

The rapid progress in rural improvement and domestic embellishment all over the land, during the last quarter of a century, is evident to the observation of every traveler, and, as we have found during several years of professional experience, there has grown up a demand for architectural designs of various grades, from the simple farm cottage to the more elaborate and costly villa, which is not supplied by the several excellent works on this subject which are within the reach of the building and reading public.

Among the permanent dwellers in the country this spirit of improvement, fostered as it is by the diffusion of publications in the various departments of Rural Art, and by a wider and more genial general culture as the means of intercommunication and education are increased, is becoming more manifest every year. But besides these intelligent farmers and tradesmen who make the country their home the year round, there is a large class of persons whose tastes or business avocations compel them to reside a considerable portion of the year in our cities or suburbs—prosperous merchants, bankers, professional men, and wealthy citizens—who have the tastes and means to command such enjoyments and luxuries as the country affords; who need the change in scenes, associations, employments and objects of interest, for themselves and their households, and who enjoy, with a keen relish, the seclusion, the comparative freedom from restraint, the pure, sweet air, the broad, open sunshine, and the numerous other rural advantages which are essentially denied them in their city homes.

In former years this class of people resorted, almost exclusively, to the sea-side, and a few popular mineral springs, taking in, perhaps, Niagara in their transit, and rarely venturing into the wild and unexplored regions of Lake George. They returned to town in the early days of September, with many a backward, longing look at the attractions and delights from which they reluctantly tore themselves away, and settled down again to the weary tread-mill of business. But for some years past this class has largely increased in number, and instead of confining themselves to their former resorts, they now seek the upper country, and prolong their stay into the glorious days of Autumn. Many of them have provided permanent summer homes, among the hills and on the lake or river shores. They have bought, and built, and planted, until they have identified themselves with the chosen spot, and as their trees have taken root in the fertile soil, so have their affections taken root in the beautiful country. They hasten gladly to these rural scenes with the opening Summer, and they leave them with regret when the exigencies of business require their presence in the city,—when the Summer suns have ripened the luscious fruits, and the flowers fade with the frosty kisses of the cold, and the passenger birds fly Southward. This class of our population know where to find all the facilities for the best country enjoyments, and their ample means assure them a free choice of summer resorts, and adequate command of all the appliances of pleasant country living.

But there is another and still larger class of citizens who have neither the means to enable them to keep up both town and country residences, nor such command of their time that they can pass two or three months of every summer away from their business. There are thousands of clerks and subordinate officers in the banking and insurance institutions in our cities and in our large commercial houses; there are many merchants who are making their way slowly and surely to competence and wealth, who would gladly compromise for one-third of such a summer vacation. These are men of intelligence, and sometimes of a good deal of social and intellectual culture and refinement. Many of them were born, and their boyhood nurtured amongst the hills. They love the country with the intensity and purity of a first love, and they long for communion once more with nature in all her moods of loveliness. Their sweetest dreams still, when they forget the hard realities of life, are of green lawns and sloping hill-sides, of waving trees and cool streams. And they would wish that their children should become familiar with the same wholesome associations, and be moved by the same attachments and inspirations. In the city they are constantly exposed to its excitements, and subjected to the restraints of its artificial modes, with few outward influences to counteract upon their development; with very little, indeed, except the discipline and the affections of home to emancipate them from the tendencies to a trivial, artificial, and sordid life. They would gladly supply to them the healthful tone and vigor—the outer and inner bloom and freshness—which are the product of out-door life in the pure air of the country. But they are compelled by considerations of economy, to forego most of these advantages, and allow their children to grow up with city tastes and habits. They long for the country but think they must content themselves with the town, until the time comes when their fortunes will enable them to command the coveted indulgences.

The time may come, sooner than they anticipate, when they will be obliged to choose the country.

Our towns are rapidly overflowing their local boundaries, and spreading out into suburbs, more or less beautiful and desirable. As far as New York city is concerned, it is simply a question of time how soon our middle-class citizens, who desire to live comfortably, with due regard to economical conditions, will be obliged to choose the country for their homes.

During the last forty years this city has increased in population with a rapid and uniform rate. Within the memory of persons now living, it has grown from an inconsiderable commercial town, until it has become one of the great cities of the world. This rapid stride and steady progress furnish us with the elements for calculating the period when the whole island will be covered with buildings, and there will remain no more vacant space for the use of its commerce, or the domestic accommodation of its citizens. The present population of the city is estimated at fully one million. The entire territorial capacity of the city, the density of the population remaining the same as it is at present, cannot much exceed two millions. The ratio of increase during each period of five years, since 1820, is about twenty-eight per cent. It will thus be seen that the utmost limit of the city's capacity will be reached within the next sixteen or seventeen years, and New York will be a solid and compact city from the Battery to Westchester County.

Meanwhile, the expenses of living in the city are increasing every year. Rents are higher now than ever before, and there is no prospect of their coming down for many years.

For it must be remembered that when we renew our building operations, which have been nearly suspended for the last four years, in consequence of the unsettled condition of the country, we shall have to provide not only for the current increase in population, but for the deficiencies which result from the past four years or more, when comparatively few houses were erected. At the present time the rent of a convenient and respectable house, suitable to the requirements of a family having a fair income, and occupying a desirable position in society, is an excessive item of cost.

And the remedy for this is to go into the country. Along the lines of our railroads and navigable waters there are localities where land is comparatively cheap,—beautiful, healthy regions, where the comforts of a rural home may be secured, with all the advantages of society, and of religious and educational establishments and institutions. The facilities for reaching these country homes are already adequate for general purposes, and will be increased every year, as the demand for them grows. Railroads and steamboats are built and run for the purpose of profit on freight and passenger transportation. According to the general law of trade, the supply will equal the demand, and as the population increases along our lines of travel, the facilities and accommodations for transit will be multiplied.

Why, then, should the man who loves the country, and possesses tastes and capacities for its enjoyment, and yet is compelled by circumstances to practice economy in his mode of living, be restrained to the city limits? It is quite a practicable thing for him to realize his wishes,—live in the country and enjoy its best luxuries, without abandoning the city as far as its commercial advantages are concerned. There are localities within an hour of the city hall, where land can be purchased at reasonable rates, and where all the advantages of health and beauty, of retirement, pure air and attractive scenery can be enjoyed for less money than is now expended in the narrow house in the crowded street, where every sense is offended—with no open sky or distant horizon tinged with the glories of the dying day or rising morn—no grassy lawns, or waving trees, or fragrant banks of flowers.

For such accommodations as he has, he pays, we will say, a rent of one thousand or twelve hundred dollars. In the country he might purchase two acres of land and build a cottage, which would afford him all, or more, conveniences than he now has, without the necessity of climbing four or five flights of stairs—at an outlay, at the usual cost of building, not exceeding six thousand dollars. The interest on this sum would be four hundred and twenty dollars. The difference between this amount and his present house rent would in a few years pay the whole cost of the place, and he would have a home—a centre and gathering place for his domestic interests and affections.

And this is no fancy sketch—no exaggerated statement of possibilities. We know of localities which can be reached from Wall Street in as many minutes as would be required to go to 50th Street, where land can be obtained for about five hundred dollars an acre, where there are all the conditions of health, good water, pure air, extensive and attractive views, and whatever else is desirable for a country home. In the direction we have now specially in mind, there are at least twenty railroad trains which daily stop at convenient stations, between the early morning and ten o'clock at night. For the ordinary purposes of business, and social intercourse, this is ample travelling accommodation, and as we said before, these accommodations will be increased in the proportion that the country population in the neighborhood of our cities becomes more dense, and thus creates a larger demand for such facilities.

The necessity and desirableness of country homes being thus easily demonstrable, it is of importance to know how to choose sites for them, and how to build. The Poet-author of "Letters from under a bridge," has given a wise and admirable suggestion in regard to choice of sites, "leaving the climate and productiveness of soil out of the question, the main things to find united, are, shade, water, and inequality of surface. With these three features given by nature, any spot may be made beautiful, and at very little cost: and fortunately for purchasers in this country, most land is valued and sold with little or no reference to these or other capabilities for embellishment." There is an affluence of choice sites all over the country, and what we need most to learn is how to develop their capabilities, and add such fitting embellishments as belong to beautiful and convenient houses. Here it is that the popular taste requires additional cultivation. The impulse already given in this direction should be kept up. There is no deficiency of wealth for the appropriation and culture of these attractive places, and there is often a lavish expenditure upon country homes which ought to make them complete and even magnificent. But unfortunately we see, every year, costly establishments, designed for summer residences, or for permanent homes, built up with as little regard for taste, as for expense. The deficiency is found rather in the culture than in the dispositions and means of our people. And the remedy and supply for this must be provided by the dissemination of works treating upon this and kindred topics of rural art, by means of which the public taste may be refined and elevated to a higher standard.

In constructing country houses there are several prime conditions to be observed, such as adaptation, accommodation, and expression. By adaptation is meant not only the arrangement of the main structure, as to form and material, to suit the locality and character of the grounds, but a fitness as respects the real wants—the habits and condition—of the occupants and the purposes of a country home. Nobody wants a modern city house planted down in the open country, nor should any sensible man seek a refuge from the bare streets of the city in the little less bare streets of a country village. There is no congruity between the classical forms of Grecian Architecture and the varying climate of our land.

The material used in the construction of our country houses has not been sufficiently considered by us. Timber is abundant in almost all parts of the country, and the facility with which an establishment—mansion-house, office, and outbuildings—can be built up in a few weeks, of this material, has been the main reason, we suppose, why we have so many abortions, in the shape of Grecian temples, and miniature Gothic cathedrals and castles, scattered over the land. Let it be considered, that in building our country houses, we are not simply providing for ourselves, but for our children—we are constructing a homestead. It is for the want of this consideration that we have so few homes in our country, so few home associations, around and among which our deepest and purest affections are entwined. Our thin lath and plaster constructions, which rattle and tremble in every wind and leak in every rain, do not afford very good or permanent centers for these associations and affections.

We have some native woods that are durable, out of which we may build houses that will last for several generations; but with these, even, the cost of frequent repairs and painting is so great, to say nothing of the annoyances thereby entailed, that, in point of economy, wood is by no means the most desirable material. Nor is it, in any way, the most desirable. The prevailing taste in country dwellings, before Mr. Downing's time, was defective enough. A large, square, wooden house, painted intensely white, garnished with bright green Venetian blinds—standing in a contracted yard—inclosed with a red or white wooden fence, was the very beau ideal of a gentleman's country dwelling. We are thankful that this dispensation has passed away; and we revere the memory of Downing, and of others like him, who were instrumental in bringing in a better taste in such matters.

The first cost of a stone or brick dwelling somewhat exceeds that of wood, even in places where these materials are readily obtained. But if they are properly constructed, such buildings will need very few repairs for many years. It is often objected, on the other hand, that such buildings are damp and unwholesome. This is, undoubtedly, true of many of the old stone houses which we find scattered about the country. And it is true, because they were not properly built. When properly built, they preserve the most equal temperature at all seasons. They are warm in winter and cool in summer, and the sudden changes which affect the weather without, need scarcely be felt by the delicate invalid within the walls of the stone mansion, if suitable attention is given to the simple matter of ventilation.

But let us return to the subject of adaptation. The illustrations which occur to us may serve to furnish a somewhat clear idea of what we mean by the prime conditions necessary to be observed in building.

By the term adaptation, we mean such choice of style, material, size and arrangement as shall fit the structure: 1st, to the site; 2d, to the climate; and 3d, to the uses for which it is built.

And, first, as to the site: It would be obviously incongruous to erect the same house on these two different sites, with their different characteristic features and surroundings; for example, the one a nearly level plane gently rising, perhaps, as you approach from the road the position where the house shall stand, and sloping away again towards other broad green fields and the fertile meadows beyond—with no background of hills or mountains, no irregularly formed lake, but with a placid, lazy stream, half-sleeping, half-gliding by the weeping elms, and among the scattered groups of stately, old trees:—the other, a romantic hillside in the native forest, with its neighboring mountain range, where in the bright summer-time, the noisy, laughing brook keeps time to your thoughts and fancies as you wander among the hills, and in the bleak winter the winds sigh mournfully through the pines or utter their clarion calls to the spirit of the storm.

The one situation would be appropriate to the Italian villa, with its flat roof, and overhanging cornices, its spacious verandahs and balconies, all having that depth and boldness and variety of outline necessary to secure the proper effects of light and shadow which, the absence of all variety of form in the landscape, would render indispensable. But no man with an artist's eye would think, for a moment, of building such a house as this on our wooded hillside. He would construct there his English cottage in good solid stone, whose steep roofs would shed with facility the summer rain and the winter snow, whose irregularities of form and outline would harmonize with nature's Gothic work in precipice and rock, in trees and climbing vines. Or else, he would place there his Swiss chalÉt, which would be in harmony with the scene, and a pleasing object to the eye of the observer. On the broad, open plane the villa should be made, or seem, to cover a considerable space, while the nice cottage might be built more compactly.

But here let us remark, that many of our attempts at the English cottage, generally known as the Gothic, have been failures, and some of them sad abortions.

This comes from defective models and plans, and these defects arise mainly from these sources—the lack of boldness and variety in the main outlines, and in the construction of the roofs and chimneys. Such a cottage, to be pleasing and satisfactory, must have irregularities in form, variety in ornament, and boldness in treatment. A square house with additions of gables, and dormers and pinnacles, and ridge crests, will not give us an English cottage. It is a work of art, like a poem or a picture, and not a mechanical aggregation of Gothic features and ornaments. We were about to say that it should never be attempted in any other material than stone, but as many of us cannot command the means for such permanent buildings, we will concede that it may be allowable for us to put our wooden buildings into the cottage form, using the best taste and the most beautiful and picturesque styles, even if the material is objectionable.

One other observation, before we return to our main topic, may be indulged. It is simply the suggestion that too little attention has been paid to the sky-outlines of our country houses. Roofs and chimney-tops have been treated as necessary evils, instead of being made, as they may be, highly ornamental. The unity of the plan, as a work of art, is lost as you ascend above the eaves, all the rest seeming like excrescences growing out of structures otherwise commendable and satisfactory. The superior horizontal lines of the roof will depend somewhat upon the background of the house. When a building is placed upon the crest of a hill, or upon a slope descending from the main point of view, so that its outlines are seen against the sky, the treatment of the plan will be obviously different from that required where the background is solid, as a hill or a forest. In any case, however, the horizontal lines should be broken, as far as practicable, by making the roofs of the several parts of the house of unequal height.

It will be apparent, without special argument, that our choice of style in our country houses should be controlled essentially by the climate. In our northern climate, the flat roof is objectionable, and we are obliged to modify the Italian styles somewhat in this respect, to obviate inconveniences. The hot summer sun, when, as on an August day, in the city,

And so in the interior arrangements of the house, the provisions for heating and ventilation, for summer freedom and winter coziness, for domestic comfort and the exercise of the commendable grace of country hospitality, due regard must be had to the conditions of climate. There must be a proper adaptation to them, if we would secure satisfactory country homes.

And this brings us to our last topic, the uses for which our country seats are built. The place designed simply for a summer residence for the citizen, who is obliged to be at his office or counting room daily, bating the few weeks of summer vacation, need not be so complete in its appointments and arrangements, as the permanent country residence. One essential condition, however, in this case is, that there shall be room enough, with ample verandahs, and shaded gravel walks, which will afford opportunities for open air exercise in all states of the weather. There is nothing, perhaps, that interferes so essentially with the citizen's enjoyment of the country, as the want of facilities for out door exercise. It is too hot or too dusty to ride or walk, before the shower, and after its refreshment has come, it is too wet and muddy. Spacious verandahs, shaded with vines, and well-made walks, always firm and dry, bordered with shrubbery, or overhung with trees, will give us "ample scope and verge enough."

But the uses of country seats depend mainly upon the tastes and habitudes of the occupants; and their adaptation in style size and arrangement should be accordingly. We believe there is no law against a man's building an elegant library and picture gallery, though he may have no taste for literature or art, but having plenty of money, chooses to make this display of it. There are a great many absurdities to which poor, frail humanity is liable, against which the legislature, in its wisdom, has not thought it worth while to make solemn and positive enactments; it is better for the general moral condition of society, perhaps, that the vulgar rich man's ambition for display should manifest itself in books and pictures, rather than in fast horses. Might not the cultivation of the garden—vegetables, fruits and flowers,—take the place of both, as simple means of display? These are wholesome and agreeable employments even for those who have passed that time of life when a taste for books and art may be acquired.

A country seat should combine and express the real uses which are required by the intellectual and social condition of its occupants, and not attract attention as blazoning the wealth and money importance of the owner. If he is rich, let him make it as complete and simply elegant as he will, and this he may do without proclaiming to every passer-by his miserable pride of wealth.

With these preliminary observations, we submit our work to the judgment of those who are interested in these subjects. We have not included in our present volume any considerable number of designs for the more spacious and costly Villa, the work being designed for popular use and to meet a demand which is unprovided for by previous publications.