of comfort and convenience, are often wholly ignored. For the most
trivial reasons, houses are erected in such locations and of such
shapes as to be forever in discord with their surroundings,--a
perpetual annoyance to beholders and discomfort to their occupants. I
will not at present pursue the subject, but shall assume that the
ground whereon your house will stand is at least firm and dry; if it
isn't, no matter how soon it falls, it won't be fit to live in. Any
preparation for the foundation in the way of puddling or
under-draining will then be quite superfluous.

Unless you are obliged to economize to the uttermost, let your cellar
extend under the whole house, and make it of good depth, not less than
7-1/2 feet,--8-1/2 is better. When this is ready, I suppose you will
start for the nearest ledge, and bring the largest rocks that can be
loosened by powder or dragged by oxen, and set them in solemn array
around the cellar, their most smiling faces turned inward. If you can
find huge flat stones of one or two yards area, and six to twelve
inches thick, you will feel especially fortunate. In either case you
will survey these with admiration, and rejoice in thinking that,
though the rains may fall, and the floods and the winds beat upon it,
your house will rest on its massive support in absolute security,
never showing the ugly cracks and other signs of weakness that spring
from imperfect foundations. Perhaps not, but it will be far more
likely to do so than if the first course of stones in the bed of
gravel or hard pan are no larger than you can easily lift. You cannot
give these huge bowlders such firm resting-place as they have found
for themselves in the ages since they were dropped by the dissolving
glaciers. However you handle them, there will be cavities underneath,
where the stone does not bear upon the solid ground. The smaller ones
you may rub or pound down till every inch of the motherly bosom shall