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The 'I V \ j I / rn i TAR.
J. W. ANDERSON. Editor and Proprietor.
r-—
SPRING.
■fls the mystery of ages,
’Tis the miracle of birth.
'Tis tho kiss that nature giveth
To tho motherhood of earth.
Ever dying, ayer living,
Through the cycles of tho years,
{Spring, a promise and a portent,
Comos in laughter and In tears.
Kftrk, its voice an echo bringotli
Of the days.we loved and lost;
Hope,” the word It softly whispers,
To the soul that’s tempest tossed.
Vou who weep, and you who labor,
Weary of your work and days,
Listen to the voice of nature
Speaking in its wondrous ways.
“Death! Thero is none,” sings tho robin,
“What was life shall live again.”
This the message, this tho promiso
That the springtime brings to men.
—New York Journal.
OUT OF THE POORHOUSE.
BY HBr.ES FOKKEST GRAVES.
ARY MILLER
came borne from
the factory upon
that April even¬
G |I ing with a light,
quick step.
The sky was all
a jonquil glow;
the frogs were
croaking in the
swamp; the ma¬
ples wer8 crim¬
soned with their
earliest banners of blossom; and as
she tripped along, Alary found a tuft
of violets half hidden under a drift cf
dead leaves—palo purple, scentless
blooms.
“The first violets always bring good
luck with them,” she whispered to
herself, as she pinned them into the
bosom of her blue flannel gown.
Home” was scarcely the ideal re¬
alization of that poetic word to this
factory girl. She and her mother
lived in the upper half of a shabby,
unpainted wooden house, with the
blacksmith’s scolding wife and seven
riotous children down stairs, and one
half of a trampled-down back yard by
way of garden, where nothing ever
grew but burdocks, nettles and Airs.
MuggsU long-legged fowls.
, But Airs. Aliller, who had been a
school-teacher once, and still retained
somewhat of the refinement of her
early education, had tho tea ready,
with a shaded lamp and a bunch of
maple blossoms ou the tablo ready
for Alary to como home.
4 4 Good news, mother!” tho girl
cried, lightly. « < Tho Meadow Form is
to let! Mother, we must take it. tt
Airs. Aliller looked dubiously at
tho bright, eager face, with its blue
gray eyes and fringes of yellow hnir.
( 4 Can we afford it, daughter?” she
said, slowly. “A whole house and a
farm of forty-three acres?”
4 4 It isn’t such a very large house,
mother,” pleaded Mary, as she laid
the hunch of violets in her mother’s
lap—“not so many more rooms than
we have here. And we could keep two
cows, and I could sell milk and but¬
ter, and spring chickens and eggs;
and I am almost sure that Will Da
vidgo would work the farm on shares.
And only think, mother, bow delight¬
ful it would bo to have a borne all to
ourselves, whero wo couldn’t hear
Mrs. Alugs boxing Bobby’s ears or
Helen shrieking with tbo toothache !
Aud a little garden, mother, where we
could have peonies and hollyhocks,
and all those lovely old-fashioned flow
ors that your soul delights iu !”
Airs. Miller’s pale, mild face soft¬
ened.
‘ ‘It is now a mouth since old Airs. Dab¬
ney died,” said Alary. “And they say
that her daughter in the city and her sou
out in California despise the old farm,
with its one-story house and its old
red barn. So it is to let. And so
cheap, too! Only a hundred and fifty
dollars a year ! Alother, we must take
it! I’ll leave tho factory and turn
Hairy maid. I’ve saved enough, you
know, to buy the two cows and some
real Plymouth Book fowls to begin
with, and oh, it will be such a happi¬
ness! Say yes, mother—do say yes!”
When Alary Miller pleaded like
this, the geutle w idow never knew how
to refuse; and tho upshot of it was
that they leased tho old Dabney house,
and became co-sovereigns of tho realm
of Meadow Farm.
It was their first night there. Over¬
head the young May moon shone
through a veil of purple mist. A soli¬
tary owl hooted iu tho chestnut wood
back of the house, for Aleadow Farm
was situated on a lonely mountain
side whore no one ever came except on
special business.
The Plymouth Rock chickens were
safely shut up whe-o foxes could not
reach them nor miukssteal in to bleed
their young lives away, the cows- -two
fine young Alderneys—were chewin O tf
their cud back of the old red barn,
and Mary Aliller had flung a handful
of cedar sticks on the hearth, where
their scented blaze illuminated tho
old kitchen with a leaping brightness
beautiful to see.
44 Because it’sjust possiblethe houso
may he damp,” she said, “after being
uninhabited so long. There, mother,
isn’t that cheerful? Aud isn’t it rice
that our old rag carpet should chancU
to fit this floor SO exactly?” with a
satisfied downward glance, “And do
you see those tiger-lilies? I found
them down by the garden wall—oh,
such a red wilderness of them? Old
Airs. Dabney set them out herself,
they say. It seems only yesterday,''
she added, thoughtfully, “that I came
past here aud raw old Airs. Dabney
sitting just in tho big chair by tbe fire,
where—”
Airs. Aliller uttered a little shriek,
a ud grasped her daughter’s arm
this moment. Alary stopped
with an ashy psllor overapreoking
shcek,
M «h« .nuke the door opposite
m ",SwiiSaJaSiiuSia'll".
dressed y»j
in a snuff-colored gown which
Mrs. Dabney had always worn and
wearing depended a anuff^ilk nap. w }jile a baff
from her arm
“It’s cold, ladies,” she said, look
ing around with a depreciating air,
“cold for the season of the year-and
si Z&SZ3
4 4 You don t mean- began the mild
widow.
“That Mrs. Daniel Dabney and Mrs.
Everard Elberson let their old aunt
go to the poorhouse?” said Mary Mil¬
ler. “Yes, it is qnfto true. Airs.
Daniel leads society in San Francisco,
I am told, and Airs. Elberson is a
grand lady in Bridgeport, with a ro
ception day and servants in livery.
What could they do with a half crazy
old aunt, who takes snuff and talks
uncertain grammer? Poor Airs. Abbv.
She has wandered back to her old
home. She was eighty last birthday,
aud things are all misty and vague to
her.”
“But what shall we do?” said Mrs.
Aliller in accents of perplexity, “A
crazy woman here 1 It doesn’t seem
just right, Alolly, does it?”
“I’ll tako her back after she has
rested a little and had a cup of tea, ”
said Alary, cheerily.
it But perhaps she won’t go. ft
* i Oh, yes, she will 1” said Alary.
4 4 Poor Alias Abby 1 She is as gentle
an a child.”
Her words proved to be correct.
Aliss Abby Dabney suffered herself to
be led unromonstratingly back to
Tewkstown Poorhouse, where the
matron read her a shrill-voiced lec¬
ture, and declared she should not bo
allowed another grain of snuff if she
couldn’t behave better.
Old Alias Abby smiled deprecat
ingly.
4 4 They are peculiar people here, »>
she said. 4 ( I think, my dear”—to
Mary Aliller—“they forget sometimes
I am a lady. But it takes all sorts,
don’t you see, to make a world. ft
The next night, however, just as
Alary and her mother were sitting
down to tea, Aliss Abby once more ap¬
peared, in tho midstof agentle shower
of rain.
ti I hope I don’t inconvenience any¬
body,” she said, meekly, 4 4 But that
woman at Tewkstown has cut off my
allowance of snuff; and, after all,
no plaoa like home.
And once more Alary Miller pa¬
walked back with the poor old
to the poorhouse.
Tho matron was infuriate this time.
4 . It ain’t human natur’ to stand
she declared. “I’ll put her in
jug 1 n
4 ( The—jug?” repeated Alary, in sur
“It’s a room down cellar where we
up the troublesome cases,” said
matron. “1 can’t stand this run¬
away business, and I won’t!”
The “jug,” perhaps, proved effica¬
for old Aliss Abby Dabney did
appear again for a week.
At the expiration of that period,
she walked noiselessly in
at dusk, and seated herself like
silent shadow in tho chimney cor
r.
4 4 It is SO good to Ue n.v Uamo again,”
said she, rubbing lmr wrinkled hands.
4 4 I somehow seem to get lost or law.
Elnathan is gone, and Betsy is gone,
and I’m left hero all alone. Yes, a
of tea, ploase—sugar and no milk.
never remember how I like my
tea at Tewkstown. This is good! don’t And
butter on my bread, too! Wo
get butter at Tewkstown.”
Mary burst into tears.
4 4 Mother,” said she, ( ( Aliss Abby
shall not go back to Tewkstown 1 She
shall stay here ! Alother, how should
I feel if you were wandering, friend¬
less and alone, through the world?”
4< But, my dear—”
1 * She shall sleep in her own old
room .out of the kitchen!” persisted
Mary. “She’ll he no more care than
a canary bird, Oh, mother, do con
sent! She will think then that she is
still in her own home, Oh, if you
knew how dreary it is at that Tewks¬
town Poorhouse, with tho grass all
tramped out, ami piles of clam shells
lying around the door, and not so
much as a dandelion or a daisy to bo
! • >
S601I Mary’s
And Mrs. Aliller yielded to
tearful solicitations.
“Do as you ploase, my child, said
she.
The Tewkstown authorities were but
too glad to be rid of tho poor old in¬
cubus, and Aliss Abby Dabney settled
down into her old homo, as content¬
edly aud unquestioningly as if she had
never left it. She ate and drank but
little; she talked still less, and seemed
to regard Mrs. Miller and Mary ns
guests, who had como to visit the old
farm. Aliller and her darter
44 The Widow undertake to
must be rich folks, to
support old Aliss Abby,” sneered one
neighbor. well enough provided for
“She was said another.
at the poorhouse,” farm succeed
“I never JnAeA vet saw a
.U th 4 bv women-folks,”
jeer 44' rLr?il ui, .......observed be the biggest kind nurn- of a
smash ui 1 ,<^ ‘ auction sale of
everything lul aa hand—for 1
■ aud I’ll be on
‘ WMW that thorn little Alderney
i the cunning creeturs I ever set
8 s milkers into the
eyes on, and a “ 1 8 good
bargain. «„d there was no
But time wore on, „ a
the porch- ,
flutter of any red flag over
j On the contrary, matters th ™ ’
AIul t
Alary er gre
“farming was a thsu working ia
itebl. bu.iu.w
COVINGTON, GEORGIA, MAY 28, 1895.
h“d‘S»5«ontS' „sf'„r 7u “ lsl "
e
.ak“U stiwt h CT i„”.h^ * r n" T’ ,m,,w Qnd f/ found ro ”i
a “ * •?™ nbrowne;1 i mim sitting
P p0SI * e to Mlsa Abby, by the red
gI “^ f fire.
uncertain ai’, j e up, in an odd,
“Laiiips ” -
0 t lubcr
oldsnuff-box ‘‘thk
sr tt b n n t7„7n h : a :
then, my memory ain’t as good as it
used to bo—and after all it don’t mat¬
ter much. Nothing matters much
nowadays! Ami
Miss Abby sat down and fell
into a “daze” again, as if all necessity
for conversational effort were over.
Cyrus Dabney stood up—a bronzed,
bearded giant, with dark eyes aud su
perb stature.
4 4 Ladies, I beg pardon 1” lie
said. “But your
I coming s’posed when I came here,
was home. I knew nothing
of all these changes. I never could
have dreamed that my cousin would
let this old creature go to—the towu
poorhouse. I don’t know who VOT1
nre, ladies, ’ with ft husky rattle in hia
throat, “but I thank you from the
very bottom of ray heart for giving
her a shelter in her old age. And if
money will pay you for it—”
“It will not!” said Alary, sharply,
as if the words conveyed a slur.
“No, I s’posed not,” said Cyrus,
with a eigb. “But I’ve plenty of
money now. The de«v nia aitutj rjlmll
Jive like a queen all the rest of hex
days, for she was good to mo when
all the rest set me down for a black
sheep. I’ve made my fortune out in
Panama, and I’ve come home to re¬
deem myself.”
C 4 I havo beard of Cyrus Dabney, >#
said Airs. Aliller, gently.
t 4 And I’ll venture, ma’am you
heard no good of me,” said tho young
giant, with a short laugh, 4 ( I’ll not
deny that I was a wild boy enough,
but there wasn’t any actual evil iu
me, let folks say what they would.
And now I’ve come back a rich man,
and there’s nobody to bid me welcome
home except old Aunt Abby, out oi
the poorhouse. i>
Ho could not long have made this
statement, however.
All tho town was up to bid the rich
Government contractor welcome to
Tewkstown within twenty-four hours.
Human nature is human nature every- '
where. But Cyrus Dabney cared
little for the friendly overtures ol the
neighbors.
Aunt Abby was the only person foi
he seemed to care, and his great¬
grief was that the old woman re¬
to leave the old Dabney farm
to live in the stately brick man¬
which he built on Prospect Hill.
And then he asked permission tc
her little bedroom with the
he had brought her from ths
and in tacking up draperies
arranging shells and old silver
he and Alary became friends.
Friends 1 She never knew that ii
anything else, until one day old
Abby took a strange idea into
head. And Alary, holding a rich
cord for Cyrus Dabney tc
into knots for picture frames,
her introduce Airs. Aliller to a
as “My guest, Airs. Aliller,
mother of the young lady that
Cyrus is going to marry.”
Cyrus looked at Alary. Alary
— u-t» ~ e 1 " n.<1 fi7 r 11 aJ
4 4 Alary,” he said, “say that it shall
so. For I love you—yes, I love
And I can’t live without your
ove. And—and you wero good to old
Abby when all the world turned
her. I sometimes think, Alary,
you must bo like one of heaven’s
1”
And this was how they became en¬
They still live in the old farmhouse,
happiest of married lovers, and
Abbey firmly believes that they
all her guests, for to her the world
eternally still—the world that
so full of bloom and beauty to Cy
and Mary. —Saturday Night.
The World’s Greatest Forest.
It appears that Siberia, from the
plaln of the Obi River on tho west to
the vallev of the Indighirka on the
east, embracing the great plains, or
river valleys, of tho Yenisei, Olenek,
Lena and Yana Rivers, is one great
timber belt, averaging more than 1000
miles in breadth from north to south,
bein'* fully 1700 miles wide in the
Yenisei district, and having a length
from oast to west of not less than
4G00 versts, about 3000 miles. Unlike
equatorial forests, the trees of the Si
berian taigas are mainly conifers,
comprising ind lnr.-Lo. pines of several varied,
firs in the Yenisei, Lena
and Olenek regions there are thou
sands of seraare miles where no human
being has ever been. The long
st emined conifers rise to a height of
150 feet or more, aud stahd so closely
together that walking among them is
difficult. exclude tho
The dense, lofty tops straight,
paie Arctio sunshine, and the
pft L l e trunks, all looking exactly alike,
bewilder the eye in the obscurity
tha t all sense of direction is lost.
Even the most experienced into trappers tho
of 8ft ble dare not venture
dense taigas without taking the pre
nation of “blazing” the trees con-
8 tantly with hatchets as they walk for
ward. If lost there the hunter r arely
starvation finds his way or out, cold- b “J The P et na *|. ^ ^.'oid
the taigas, aud have a name or them ,
which signifies “pieces where the mind
1 is ,s lo*t lo-t. Youth’s Companion.
— -
-, territory
French Africa comprises a
®* *“• v
f A STRIKINGlCENE.
now madagasca RS QUEEN DE¬
CLARED AGA1NS S’® RANGE.
Barefooted, and Clofliedn a Second
Hand White Satin,,'.'ll Dress
Made by Worth.AkoK.x
-irixrvsr TierP'Apie,
F DANCE’S car, avolona the the III., enem dusk; Frentk igainst in Queen invaders Aladagas- whose Ean
advancing, army occasions are
on state appears
wearing dress a seeond-ha longf Worth ball
of fashion gone by, aud
with a barbaric crown on her bead
and nothing on her blac^ feet, She
appears in the great square of
Audalho, at Tananarive, the capital,
where ehs issues stirring proclama¬
tions to her people.
The ’ Scene iB a picturesque one.
With one hand she gras)’* a sword and
with vehement g-cctures emphasizes
her exhortations, and with all the pas¬
sionate eloquence of her race threat¬
ens, commands and prays her hearers
to take up arms against and exter-
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IV 7**
MADAGASCAR’S QUEEN IN A WORTH GOWN AND BARE FEET, DECLARING WAR AGAINST THE FRENCH
(From a sketch made by a French resident in Madagascar.)
minate the hated white men who for
ten years have held the Nation in
thrall.
and The 41 1 will%e war i is • the a b £^o51tfgs'of the here
aftci. reward of those who
fall. She also promises substantial
rewards to the victors who survive.
The Prime Alinister’s dross is no
less striking. Its principal features
are a sort of dolman of purple satin of
spangled with gold, short trousers
white silk and long boots. About
Lia waist he wears a belt of yellow which
leather studded with gems, from
bangs a swortl in ft golden scabbard.
The aunt and sister of the Queen wear
the native dress, with bare arms, their
long black hair streaming over their
shoulders. profession has been
The military an
unpopulur one in Madagascar of late
years, because tbe amount of booty
an q pillage to be obtained has been
small, and it has therefore been diffi
cult to keep the ranks Rhea. In time
of peace recruiting goes an for three
months each year, but * aS ‘, a
sufficient complement hns been ob
tained and drilling be g 1D > desertions
commence, and in a short time the
ranks are badly thinned. Desertions
are rarely punished_ unless they fail to
bribe they their shot. superior Under the officers; fresent then cir
are Qi^en burn
oumstances, despite the harlngues s
ing proclamations and the
volunteers have been few, for the na
lives fear the French aid do not
Jove their tyrannical ruler,
The real monarch of Madagascar,
however, is not Queen Ranavolona
III., or as she prefers tobicalle.l, La¬
navolomanjaky HI., butut is the
Prime Minister, Rainlaianvony,
whom the curious law H the land
obliges to be the husbakd of the
Queen, lie is now past sexmty years
of than age thirty and has years, ^hl dimng^bich^time his p e
he has been the husband ^
ferent queens. He it is Mio oeciues
i M questions of state, and flie-Queen s
j part is merely to indorsf his judg
ment6, which shejinvarm H
| The French rrotectortte, which
was established after ®
j has been bltt a c u r £ b £ ( Lstre^f tbe
! Whites has brought French, about however, the present have
conflict, . , The mj ^ ^ o{
more fever8
country t .... havo frt , m the un
• being gath
trainedI trooi s which , are^ 0 being gam
c red with so much d, , - •
thj t
draughts and chewing betel. Her
private expenses are paid from a fund
to which all who enter her presence
are required to contribute a tive-frano
piece (one dollar). Tho youngest
member of the royal household pre¬
sents a hat in which the money is
placed.—New York World.
QUEEN ANNE HOUSES.
They are Popular, Although the
Name Is Misleading.
(Copyright 1895.)
Queen Anne will have much to an
swer for if she is held accountable
for all the architectural abominations
that have been erected in her name.
During the earlier days of this coun¬
try, the major part of the dwellings
were simple and plain and could give
but little direct offence to aesthetic
taste, even if lacking in some of the
prime requisites of beauty. The
larger and more expensive houses
were, happily, almost without excep¬
tion, of the Colonial style, ami were
dignified, stately, comfortable and
substantial. But as wealth became
more widely diffused and the tastes of
the peoplo grew more pretentious, lines
architecture developed along
that were ugly almost to the vercre of
the gro tesque, __without rhyme
reason. Instead of utility adorned,
-.'hich is, or should be, the eud aud
aim of architecture, ornateness was
sought even at the expense of utility.
rft.
»
-• 1 ms
lill
f.: •* :>
oSpcK^nv cffEEa'i (
ARCHITCC
-- N.y;
A QUEEN ANNE VILLA.
The hideous structures of the “00’s
aud 70’s,” which line every street of
the older cities and dot every suburb,
were the result. Gradually these
abominations grew to have a certain
similarity and a name was needed for
the style.
Among the different architectural
styles the Queen Anne seemed to
have the least strongly marked pecu
Rarities. It was a sounding title, and
the public, when it could not place a
dwelling as Gothic, classic, Renais
K.fch.o
i H -IJ
i->— A-41
I »'*»<*■ 12 X
f /A rt/j
Kh I
oV ft -H
{lot
--------
v ^
!*===«== ------
f lgs J7—f T
---- .. -
j sance, Colonial, or what not, gravely
dubbed it Queen Anne. So it has come
ftW ^ &e ugftge tf ^informed peo
pie that the Queen Anne style of arch
| itecture has been widely perverted
techmcM and original signih
VOL. XXI. NO. 9.
~r~
The Nestor ol the Stage.
No living mau, says the New York
Advertiser, is better qualified to speak
on 4 < Dramatic Art” than the veteran
_ portrait
actor, Joseph Jefferson, whose
is given herewith. He lectured ou
iliat subject recently before the col
legians of Yale. Mr. Jefferson cou
^as*.
<1
i J,5*
* i •^0
A
ii A
■ »
• w
* C*
JOSKPn JBFFEKSON.
demned in strong terms the practice
of Yale and many colleges giving no
attention to pure dramatic art, and of
giving farco comedies, such as “Air.
Napoleon,” the play now in prepara¬
tion by the Yale secret societies. Air.
Jefferson looked on the custom as »
sign of degeneracy.
How Brick Tea is Made.
Great quantities of tea are exported
to Russia and Mongolia every year in
the shape of bricks, writes Frank G.
Carpenter. These are made of tko
lower grades of tea and of tea dust.
Tho loaves are ground up and steamed
and cooked until they are soft and
mushy. They are then put into
molds about the size of an ordinary
brick and are pressed into shape, so
that they become as hard as chocolate
cakes. The finer varieties are molded
into small cakes, in fact, of just about
the size of the small cakes of sweet
chocolate which you buy in the candy
stores. I visited several of the fac¬
tories in Hankow, which make this
kind of tea, and the process was even
less appetizing than that which I de¬
scribed as to the ordinary tea. The
factories, in the first place, are very
warm . The steaming tea is handled
by dirty coolies, and is sweetened by
perspiration. After the bricks oro
finished they are carried by boats up
the rivers aud canals to Tientsin, and
from thence go on camels into Mon¬
golia and on to Russia. There are
about sixty bricks in one package, and
fhey are so arranged that they can be
carried on camels. This brick tea
takes the place of money in many
parts of Asia, and in Alongolia it
passes as currency, each brick being
worth from fifteen to twenty cents.
The Alongols divide a brick into
thirty equal parts. They boil it with
milk, butter, sheep fat and salt, using
camel dung for fuel. I visited one of
the largest of the brick tea factories
in Hankow, and I met Russians there
who were making fortunes out of
shipping brick tea to Russia. Some
of the factories employ more than a
thousand hands, and the business is
almost as great as that of shipping
tea to Europe,
New IlniynWiiatettrt picture of the
new cap for the United Statos Array, a
cap that seems to be a much more sensi
hie piece of headgear than the one which
it will displace after July 1, as to of¬
ficers, and after January 1, 1890, for
enlisted men. Those among army
officers who sec no necessity for a
i
o e
\
: X;
WBgto
cuange criticise tlie new cap 1M ucmg
devoid of what they term “military
smartness,” but none of them lias as
yet attempted to assail the cap as a
practical piece of wearing apparel. the
Among the advantages it has over
present headgear the most conspicu¬
ous one is that it will stay on the head
without being held; auother advan¬
tage is the sloping visor, which affords
grateful protection to tho eyes.—
Washington Star.
Govern w Marvil’s Foreboling.
That Governor Alarvi! did not ex¬
pect to live long is shown by his own
words. On the day of bis inaugura¬
tion, as ho rode to the Court House
to take the oath of office, he remarked
to Governor Reynolds, who was the
occupant of the carriage with him :
“Governor this is a great day to
me. It is the proudest moment of my
life, but I will not live long. Air.
Watson will bo Governor.
Governor Reynolds tokl a few inti¬
I mate friends of the new Governor's
remarks, but they never were made
public until now. —Wilmington (Del.)
News.
Cupiil on 1he Occam
Alichael Albrecht, a well-known and
highly respected German, died Tues¬
day eveuing of heart disease. ThCrc
is a flavor of romance connected with
the marriage of Air. Albrecht, He
met the lady who subsequently became which
his wife ou the steamship ou
they were both passengers for America.
It was a genuine case of love at first
sight, and after a short and vigorous
courtship tbe young couple decided
to get married at once, So iu mid
ocean tho ceremony that made them
one was performed * 8=1 Portsmouth
Xioiest
Ire founded on tho class of designs
that were used to a largo extent at the
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beginning of the eighteenth erected century. dur¬
Tlie buildings that were
ing the reign of Queen Anne were
simple and plain, with classic cornices
and details, and frequently divided bad large br
windows that were often
mnJlbuao-. oiu DuUdiugs are util¬
ized to the best advantage in tho
modern revised styles, and au interest¬
ing example accompanies this article.
The perspective view is shown and
the principal rooms and their size3,
closets, etc., will be found by refer¬
ence to the floor plans. veranda,
Extreme width, including
35 feet 6 inches; depth, including
veranda, 49 feet. feet
Heights of stories: Cellar, 6
6 inches; first story, 8 feet 10 iuches;
second story, 8 feet 4 inches.
Exterior materials: Foundation,
brick ; first story, clapboards; second
story, gables, dormers aud roofs,
shingles. Outside blinds to all win¬
dows except those of the cellar.
Interior finish: Hard white plaster,
soft wood flooring aud trim, ash
—
staircase, kitchen wainscoted, panels
under windows in parlor; interior
woodwork finished in hard oil.
Colors: Clapboards, dark green;
trim, outside doors, blinds and ram
conductors, bronze green; sashes,
dark red; veranda floor, dark olive
drab; veranda ceiling varnished;
brickwork, Indian red ; wall shingles
dipped and brush coated venetiau red
stain ; roof shingles dipped and brush
coated with a darker red stain.
Accommodations: Cellar under
kitchen, with concrete floor, but the
cellar may extend under tho whole
bouse or be omitted entirely. Open
fireplaces in parlor, sitting and dining
rooms, with mnnVA« ovur same. Vesti¬
bule door is made to slide to avoid
interference with passage to stairway.
Sliding doors connect dining and sit-
1 ting rooms; back stairway to second
j stairway. mantels, Sliding and part doors, of the fireplaces veranda
and
may be omitted. Bathroom with
partial or full set of plumbing may be
introduced.
Cost: $2687. This includes man¬
tels but not the range and heater;
the estimate based ou New York
prices for materials aud labor, but iu
mftny sections 5f tho country the cost
ehoul J be less.
The name “Queen Anne” is qu.te
misleading, for the stylo buildings partakes
more of the nature of the
of tho earlier Renaissance or of the
j Elizabethan period than of those of
Qtwen Anne’s reign. It has also bor
rowed from the Renaissance of Ger-
1 many and France, as well as some of
1 its best features from the classic and
the lata Gothic styles. The Queen
1 A. n o stylo is bast fitted to villas «ad
