posed plan, so that shelter for from eighty to a hundred households would be afforded by the entire building. Thus, instead of housing miserably two hundred and forty people on ten lots. according to the highest average in the Fourth Ward, two or three times that number,-perhaps five times,-might be handsomely and healthfully provided for on the same area. wherein meals might be served to order, at moderate rates. The ground floor contains the grand staircase and entrance hall for the tenants of the upper floors, passenger elevator, etc.; and on each side three distinct and independent residences, having their own front doors, the three pairs of private entrances giving the block the external appearance of a row of ordinary firstclass dwellings. The upper floors are similarly laid out, save that a common hall extends from one end of the building to the other, and the private passage-ways of the several apartments lead off from it. How far space could be economized, and the general wholesomeness of the entire building increased by the abandonment of private kitchens, and the cooking of all the food in one place, is a matter yet untested among people of moderate means. Seeing, Each floor, with the exception of the how well the plan works among the wealthy topmost, which is divided into half suites, however as illustrated by the success of contains six independent residences, comthe Grosvenor, and hotels of similar char- prising a parlor, a dining room,—with butacter, it would be a marvel if it failed ler's pantry, having a small fire-place for among those whose need of good and eco- the simpler sorts of cooking, hot and cold nomical cooking is so much greater. As a water, and other conveniences,-closets, part of the common furniture of the house, bath-room, hall-ways, two or three rooms on the general kitchen would have to be under the common floor for nursery, bedrooms, the control of the owner of the building, etc., and four entre sol chambers, as shown whose interest it would be to furnish his in the accompanying section. The latter tenants with cooked food at cost; or he have no connection with the public hall, might cook the provisions supplied by them since the stairways which lead to them at rates much less than the cost of indi- rise from the inner private halls. vidual cooking, yet with profit enough to make the kitchen self-supporting. So likewise with the laundry. A well developed plan for a block of first-class co-operative residences, made by Mr. H. Hudson Holly, of this city, for Trinity College, Hartford, Conn., is shown in the engravings presented herewith. The sale of the college property to the State for the use of its capitol prevented the carrying out of the plan, without injury, however, to its value as an illustration of a class of buildings called for in New York. The basement, as will be seen by reference to the plan,-which needs no extended description here,-is devoted to the various needs of the complex household. Here the cooking, washing and so on, of all the tenants, can be done at the lowest rates by the general manager of the house. Elevators, tram-ways and steam-tight cars could be used for the quick and cleanly distribution of food to the private diningrooms; and, if desired, trained attendants, employed by the proprietor, might accompany the food to serve it, thus enabling the tenants to reduce their private service to the minimum. For those who might choose to avail themselves of a public diningroom, an ample restaurant is provided This plan,-like all the rest having any architectural pretensions, was manifestly devised for families of more than ordinary wealth and style. The substitution of cheaper materials in the construction of the building, and its erection on lowerpriced land would adapt it, without, other change, to the needs of people of more limited means, largely reducing the average rent of the apartments, without lessening the profitableness of the building as an investment. Or the same end could be attained by giving fewer rooms and smaller ones to a suite, so that a dozen small families could be comfortably lodged on each floor, or upwards of fifty in the entire house,—each family having an abundance of room at relatively little cost, with the advantage of superior surroundings. A characteristic oversight in the planning of most of the respectable flats in New York, is the failure to make provision for just this class of small, first-rate households. The rooms are too large, there are too many of them, everything, in short, is on too grand a scale for comfort and economy, save for families of six or eight members. The popularity of the system, and the aggregate rental of the houses as well, would be immensely increased by dividing the floors or a part of them, into snug little suites of three or four rooms, well lighted and ventilated, thoroughly secluded, and fitted, for modest housekeeping by newly-married couples, or those having but one or two children. The care of such apartments would involve but little labor; while by using gas as fuel, and the adoption of certain simple yet scientific devices for lessening culinary labor, the greatest degree of privacy, independence, comfort and economy would easily be attained. In contrast with boarding even under the most favorable conditions, such a life is,—or may be, something like paradise regained. May be. Of course happiness in this, as in any other style of life, pre-supposes capacity for happiness, and a disposition to make the most of what one has. That the general introduction of apartment houses would straightway inaugurate a domestic and social millennium no one would be so foolish as to imagine. Homes will be infelicitous, neighbors will have their differences, servants will wrangle and set their mistresses by the ears, chimneys will smoke, and waterpipes will burst, whether houses are built flat-wise or on edge. It stands to reason, none the less, that when the fundamental needs of families are regarded in building, and the demonstrated laws of economy are heeded in the construction of our dwellings, we shall get more for our money, be able to live with less labor, to have homes where homes are impossible now, and be allowed to increase our numbers without the destruction of health and morals-gains enough, in all conscience, to give us joy in the progress of the reform. Unfortunately the records of the City Superintendent of Buildings fail to specify the character of the houses for which permits are issued; it is therefore impossible, without a special census, to tell how many flats and apartment houses there are in the city, or what is the ratio of their increase from year to year. About fifteen permits a month was the Superintendent's estimate of the average number of permits issued last season for the reconstruction of old buildings and the erection of new ones for multiple tenancy. A large proportion of these were for buildings of high grade. OVER SEA. "O, where are you going, Lord Lovel?" she cried, "O, where are you going?" cried she. "I'm going," quoth he, "fair Nancy Bell, Strange countrees for to see, see, see, Strange countrees for to see." WE were all on the Pereire, and the Pereire was on the Grand Bank, her helm set for Brest, and reeling off her white wake twelve miles to the hour. The breeze was abeam but easy, and our sofas in the ladies' little saloon kept up a gentle, lopsided rocking with the ship, like a teeter" with the big boys all at one end. There were just four of them-mere têteà-tête-surrounding the saloon, with a vagrant camp-stool or two upon the floor. "I'm going to my state-room," the fat lady soliloquized. Alphonse!" she shouted, as the waiter shot across the open door, along the passage. Alphonse re-appears. "Voulez-vous apportez-moi un autre glace of lemonade? and apportez-moi dans ma chambre." "Tout de suite, madame," with unflinching gravity. "And, Alphonse! le lemonade cette temps ploo stronger!" "Bien, madame!" Whereupon, madame fastens an eye upon the door-knob, makes a lucky lunge for it, hauls herself up and out, and goes staggering and bumping her way to her room. "Well, that's the jolliest French I've heard since the fellow who was told to hurry up for the ride, and snapped his whip with, 'Je suis déjà !' Bah! what do such people go to Europe for?" 66 She told a person in the cabin that she had done up half the towns in France already, and was going to finish 'em this trip, so as to say she'd seen every one of 'em.' "I see I've met her style." Fred and Miss Nelly had opened this little battery of gossip. Our Fred is just twenty, tall and slender from rapid growth, with handsome dark hair, expressive eyes, swift speech and gesture-a New Yorker, of strong Huguenot blood, the only son of a wealthy land-owner. His admiration for the beautiful of every kind was as frank as his contempt for the opposite; and though both were, of course, excessive, this enthusiasm excused him for always knowing more about everything than everybody else in the company, including myself. For my own part, I forgave him, as he was, doubt. less, not yet aware that I am the Author of the Work on the Subject-object as Differentiated from the Object-object, and that I have turned out such articles as Fred,that is, in my Professorial function,-by the dozen. No; that is hardly fair. Fred is one in a hundred. "I have a sensible sort of friend," I said quietly, "who made three journeys through France just to see every town in it. But he had a conceit on 'doing up' one thing well. He was slightly architectural, too.' "And slightly cracked, I should think," said Fred. "When I was sixteen I began my fledgeling trip up at Portland, and meant to go through the Union by college vacations. But you can't hold a boy of that age responsible. My plan is to strike right for the biggest things and let the rest slide." "Well," smiled up a smooth, silvery voice from under the pile of gray furs upon the farther sofa; "I know that I wouldn't forget one or two little by-way mountain towns in Italy-Perugia, for instance, and Lampedusa-for many a sensation in Florence or Paris.' "Who is that, my dear?" I whispered to my wife. "The handsome authoress I told you of." The lady was slowly rallying from seasickness, and spent a few hours every day dozing in the same warm nest of furs and clouds, her face always covered with a blue veil. I had never chanced to see her features. The pleasant play of tone, and her pale but handsome hand resting on the fur, would have kindled the romance of twenty, like an Oriental masque. remained for some days, as she said afterwards, in equal ignorance about myself; for, through all our conversations, the rocking of a foolish mirror opposite kept my forehead dropped upon the little stand before the sofa, with only a ball of grizzled hair presented to the company. She "For my part," I said, "I think you are both right,-as usual when sensible persons get to differing,-both right; but neither is quite right enough." "I not right?" said Fred. "Why, you wouldn't have a fellow go scouring a coun try or a town, like a merchant's drummer or the directory-man, would you?" Whew! young man, isn't there something or somebody in the world between your drummers and the Alpine Club? I suppose the Club furnishes your ideal of a traveler. All I mean to say is, that a person traveling in Europe, and especially a young man or woman going for improvement, should seek something else as well as what you call the biggest things. These have their value. Mont Blancs, Coliseums, Alpine tunnels, as ideals of vastness or power in their kind, raise a man's standards forever, put into him a little of their own dignity and power. But most of these 'big things' give less nourishment than stimulus. They are what you may call the legitimate sensational. What we need to make sound mind and sound character are the averages of things, the general fact, the law; not the exceptional. Then again, many of Mr. Fred's of Mr. Fred's biggest things' are, doubtless, often among the smallest. There's the Big Tun, for instance. Palaces, cathedrals, picture-galleries take a false position with most travelers. So do "But, Professor," pleaded the "what do you leave us then at travel for?" voice, all to "All I What, indeed?" cried Nell. care for is to see the galleries and palaces and ."—and that handsome prince you were going to capture in one of them!" said my wife, laughing; which rally made Nell laugh a little and blush a little more. "Let's have a game of Character," cried Fred, looking teasingly at Miss Nelly, "and find out what we're all going for. I'll begin. I want to see the Alps first; after that, Rome and Paris. I don't care for Germany or England. There! who next? Mrs. Johns, tell us your choice." "Italy, German home-life and dear old England, for me!" 66 "And Miss Nelly," said our authoress, at what shrine will your pilgrim staff be laid down?" We must here present Miss Nelly as a blonde of eighteen, lively, sensible, exceedingly well-read in the best literature, brimful of Ruskin, adoring Tennyson. She is under the matronage of Mrs. Johns for the voyage. "Oh!" said Nelly, "I want to see all the great pictures, and I want to see where Madame de Stael lived, and I want to go to England to see Wordsworth's home and Tennyson and Ruskin, and ever so many other things. But, Madam," she modestly urged, "you haven't told us what you are going' for to see, see, see.' "Well, I am going first to Paris, only to see my little girl, whom I left, I fear unwisely, in a school there. Then I hope to improve my health by travel, and to gain what ideas and pleasure I can, along the way. Now, what is your quest, Professor?" Well, I expect to look into the Universities and Academies, and especially the Jesuit education at its high-water mark in the Collegio Romano. At the same time, like yourself, Madam. I hope to get profit and pleasure in general." "Profit and pleasure in general!" echoed Fred; "that's it!" 66 And suppose the Professor tells us now how best to get it?" "Splendid!" cried Nell and Fred together; and Fred drew out his note-book for its first entry. you'll enjoy the best all the better. I suggest what is pleasanter in the long run than either one definite object or none at all— that is, several definite objects. With most of us the chance for enjoying Europe is short and not certain to occur again; and while we should keep wide-open eyes to see all that offers itself anywhere and everywhere, there are certain things in every country which we must not only see but observe; and the best of these are just the ones that most travelers never even see." "What in the world can they be?" said Nell, impatiently. "Well, as for one of them, what is the most important object of study anywhere, abroad or at home, but men and women, their character and condition?" "Ah, but then you have to know the languages so well for that." 66 Only for getting some few of the details of character, and those often the less important. In this direction, often the eyes are more learned than the ears.' Why, a Dutchman's back will tell you more of his character than an hour's talk with him. My dear, won't you bring from the stateroom those sketches? And bring along Brown, Jones and Robinson.'' "Let me get it, Professor." 6 (6 No indeed, Mr. Fred! Not since your bright exploit yesterday, of bringing me the seidlitz powder instead of the soda." 66 But you in dismay. didn't take it?" cried Fred, "Well-no matter-now." Here my little lady trips in with the book. "Fred, just please show this sketch to the ladies.' "And here's another, of an Italian peasant. Pass this around. Who couldn't tell just what those two men like best, and what they can do best? And that is nearly all one needs to know of a man or woman. And there are forty other ways to this sort of knowledge, without the help of the native language. Motions, intonations and quality of voice, sometimes the dress, give many points of national and private character to a person who is looking out for them. Then, the interior of one dwelling, to which you may get access, sometimes the nobleman's seat or palace, always the home of the laborer, tells a long story of the character or the taste and comfort of entire classes. See what an analysis of national character Taine draws from the furniture of an English bedroom. I And then every young person from America brings a little of French or German with him from the school; and three months or less of lively intercourse with the people makes it a ready key to their ways. If his French is thoroughly well grounded at school, and he gets to thinking in its idioms, the Italian, in Italy, will tumble in upon him of itself. Then the road grows as certain as it is easy." "It seems to me," objected the authoress again, "that people's ways are very much the same, all the world over." "And if that's so," added Nelly eagerly, "why not leave them for study at home and just enjoy the pictures and cathedrals and landscapes?" "Well, to that double-barreled shot, I send a double-barreled return-yes and no. Doubtless, the people of the several enlightened nations have more points of resemblance than of difference. But isn't it much for a person to discover even that, with his own eyes?Nobody starts with such a view of the character of foreigners. To find them but like ourselves, and especially ourselves but like them, cures us of one more contempt or one more foolish admiration and thereby teaches us two more truths. But I think the differences that do exist between foreigners and ourselves, are pretty lively and are deeper than the mere form. Emulation and Love of Admiration, for instance, cannot be studied anywhere completely in the world, except in France. Only England presents the strongest specimen of Self-esteem; only Germany, the most complete type of the scientific Curiosity; and both of them illustrate the Domestic Affections. Surely, we cannot lose the chance, while we are on the spot, for enlarging our knowledge of these human elements and raising our standard of conscience and of the inner taste." "But I don't see," said Fred, “how you are to get enough of this, with all the necessary sight-seeing, to make the pursuit worth while." "Then you think that sights are 'bigger things' than souls, do you? Well, sir, the knowledge and still more the kindly interest, the widened sympathies, the new appreciations, gained by one hour's talk with your donkey-driver, about the privations, toils, poor little pleasures, fears and hopes for earth and heaven, of himself and his class, outweigh all that fifty poets fused into one ever felt before the Coliseum or the Cathedral of Cologne. But all I ask |