Anna Graetz - "Pearl and Periwinkle"

Paul W. Fairman - "Ten From Infinity"

Gotthold Ephraim Lessing - "Abhandlungen ueber die Fabel"

James Parton - "Captains of Industry"

Annual Bibliography of Commonwealth Literature 2007
This paper argues that discourses of love in Ghanaian market literature for youth offer a view into complex negotiations of agency and empowerment. Drawing on Deborah Durham's notion of youth as "social `shifters'" and Francis Nyamnjoh's conception of the "interconnectedness" of agency, I take Ghanaian market literature as one specific case of how African literature for youth foregrounds questions of continuity and change as African societies enter into increasingly complex global relations. In this literature for youth, received notions of love, often constructed out of impressions from American pop and hip hop music, carry new notions of agency that compete with existing "domesticated" forms. Authors like Ike Tandoh and Evelyn Tay employ discourses of love to offer youth alternative avenues for empowerment in a context of socio-economic disenfranchizement. In a creative process of "straddling", this writing both reveals and reproduces the contradictions that obtain in youth configurations of agency.

Rural Architecture

L >> Lewis Falley Allen >> Rural Architecture




A farm with its buildings, or a simple country residence with the
grounds which enclose it, or a cottage with its door-yard and garden,
should be finished sections of the landscape of which it forms a part,
or attractive points within it; and of consequence, complete each within
itself, and not dependent upon distant accessories to support it--an
_imperium in imperio_, in classic phrase. A tower, a monument, a
steeple, or the indistinct outline of a distant town may form a striking
feature in a pictorial design and the associations connected with them,
or, the character in which they are contemplated may allow them to stand
naked and unadorned by other objects, and still permit them to fill up
in perfect harmony the picture. This idea will illustrate the importance
of embellishment, not only in the substitution of trees as necessary
appendages to a complete rural establishment, but in the erection of all
the buildings necessary for occupation in any manner, in form and
position, to give effect from any point of view in which the homestead
may be seen. General appearance should not be confined to one quarter
alone, but the house and its surroundings on every side should show
completeness in design and harmony in execution; and although humble,
and devoted to the meanest purposes, a portion of these erections may
be, yet the character of utility or necessity which they maintain, gives
them an air of dignity, if not of grace. Thus, a house and out-buildings
flanked with orchards, or a wood, on which they apparently fall back for
support, fills the eye at once with not only a beautiful group, in
themselves combined, but associate the idea of repose, of comfort, and
abundance--indispensable requisites to a perfect farm residence. They
also seem to connect the house and out-buildings with the fields beyond,
which are of necessity naked of trees, and gradually spread the view
abroad over the farm until it mingles with, or is lost in the general
landscape.

These remarks may seem too refined, and as out of place here, and
trenching upon the subject of Landscape Gardening, which is not designed
to be a part, or but an incidental one of the present work, yet they are
important in connection with the subject under discussion. The proper
disposition of trees and shrubbery around, or in the vicinity of
buildings is far too little understood, although tree planting about our
dwellings is a practice pretty general throughout our country. Nothing
is more common than to see a man build a house, perhaps in most
elaborate and expensive style, and then plant a row of trees close upon
the front, which when grown will shut it almost entirely out of view;
while he leaves the rear as bald and unprotected as if it were a barn or
a horse-shed--as if in utter ignorance, as he probably is, that his
house is more effectively set off by a _flanking_ and _background_ of
tree and shrubbery, than in front. And this is called good taste! Let us
examine it. Trees near a dwelling are desirable for shade; _shelter_
they do not afford except in masses, which last is always better given
to the house itself by a veranda. Immediately adjoining, or within
touching distance of a house, trees create dampness, more or less
litter, and frequently vermin. They injure the walls and roofs by their
continual shade and dampness. They exclude the rays of the sun, and
prevent a free circulation of air. Therefore, _close_ to the house,
trees are absolutely pernicious, to say nothing of excluding all its
architectural effect from observation; when, if planted at proper
distances, they compose its finest ornaments.

If it be necessary to build in good taste at all, it is quite as
necessary that such good taste be kept in view throughout. A country
dwelling should always be a conspicuous object in its full character and
outline, from one or more prominent points of observation; consequently
all plantations of tree or shrubbery in its immediate vicinity should be
considered as aids to show off the house and its appendages, instead of
becoming the principal objects of attraction in themselves. Their
disposition should be such as to create a perfect and agreeable whole,
when seen in connection with the house itself. They should also be so
placed as to open the surrounding landscape to view in its most
attractive features, from the various parts of the dwelling. Much in the
effective disposition of trees around the dwelling will thus depend upon
the character of the country seen from it, and which should control to a
great extent their position. A single tree, of grand and stately
dimensions, will frequently give greater effect than the most studied
plantations. A ledge of rock, in the clefts of which wild vines may
nestle, or around which a mass of shrubbery may cluster, will add a
charm to the dwelling which an elaborate cultivation would fail to
bestow; and the most negligent apparel of nature in a thousand ways may
give a character which we might strive in vain to accomplish by our own
invention. In the efforts to embellish our dwellings or grounds, the
strong natural objects with which they are associated should be
consulted, always keeping in view an _expression_ of the chief character
to which the whole is applied.




MATERIAL FOR FARM BUILDINGS.


In a country like ours, containing within its soils and upon its surface
such an abundance and variety of building material, the composition of
our farm erections must depend in most cases upon the ability or the
choice of the builder himself.

Stone is the most durable, in the long run the cheapest, and as a
consequence, the _best_ material which can be furnished for the walls of
a dwelling. With other farm buildings circumstances may govern
differently; still, in many sections of the United States, even stone
cannot be obtained, except at an expense and inconvenience altogether
forbidding its use. Yet it is a happy relief that where stone is
difficult, or not at all to be obtained, the best of clay for bricks,
is abundant; and in almost all parts of our country, even where building
timber is scarce, its transportation is so comparatively light, and the
facilities of removing it are so cheap, that wood is accessible to every
one. Hence we may indulge in almost every fitting style of architecture
and arrangement, to which either kind of these materials are best
adapted. We shall slightly discuss them as applicable to our purposes.

Stone is found either on the surface, or in quarries under ground.
On the surface they lie chiefly as bowlders of less or greater size,
usually of hard and durable kinds. Large bowlders may be either blasted,
or split with wedges into sufficiently available shapes to lay in walls
with mortar; or if small, they may with a little extra labor, be fitted
by the aid of good mortar into equally substantial wall as the larger
masses. In quarries they are thrown out, either by blasting or splitting
in layers, so as to form regular courses when laid up; and all their
varieties may, _unhammered_, except to strike off projecting points or
angles, be laid up with a sufficiently smooth face to give fine effect
to a building. Thus, when easily obtained, aside from the greater
advantages of their durability, stone is as cheap in the first instance
as lumber, excepting in new districts of country where good building
lumber is the chief article of production, and cheaper than brick in any
event. Stone requires no paint. Its color is a natural, therefore an
agreeable one, be it usually what it may, although some shades are more
grateful to the eye than others; yet it is always in harmony with
natural objects, and particularly so on the farm where everything ought
to wear the most substantial appearance. The outer walls of a stone
house should always be _firred_ off inside for _lathing_ and plastering,
to keep them thoroughly dry. Without that, the rooms are liable to
dampness, which would penetrate through the stone into the inside
plastering unless cut off by an open space of air between.

Bricks, where stone is not found, supply its place tolerably well. When
made of good clay, rightly tempered with sand, and well burned, they
will in a wall remain for centuries, and as far as material is
concerned, answer all purposes. Brick walls may be thinner than stone
walls, but they equally require "firring off" for inside plastering, and
in addition, they need the aid of paint quite as often as wood, to give
them an agreeable color--bricks themselves not usually being in the
category of desirable colors or shades.

Wood, when abundant and easily obtained, is worked with the greatest
facility, and on many accounts, is the cheapest material, _for the
time_, of which a building can be constructed. But it is perishable. It
requires every few years a coat of paint, and is always associated with
the idea of decay. Yet wood may be moulded into an infinite variety of
form to please the eye, in the indulgence of any peculiar taste or
fancy.

We cannot, in the consideration of material for house-building
therefore, urge upon the farmer the adoption of either of the above
named materials to the preference of another, in any particular
structure he may require; but leave him to consult his own circumstances
in regard to them, as best he may. But this we will say: _If it be
possible_, never lay a _cellar_ or underground wall of perishable
material, such as wood or soft bricks; nor build with soft or _unburnt_
bricks in a wall exposed to the weather _anywhere;_ nor with stone which
is liable to crumble or disintegrate by the action of frost or water
upon it. We are aware that unburnt bricks have been strongly recommended
for house-building in America; but from observation, we are fully
persuaded that they are worthless for any _permanent_ structure, and if
used, will in the end prove a dead loss in their application. Cottages,
out-buildings, and other cheap erections on the farm, for the
accommodation of laborers, stock, or crops, may be made of wood, where
wood is the cheapest and most easily obtained; and, even taking its
perishable nature into account, it may be the most economical. In their
construction, it may be simply a matter of calculation with him who
needs them, to calculate the first cost of any material he has at hand,
or may obtain, and to that add the interest upon it, the annual wear and
tear, the insurance, and the period it may last, to determine this
matter to his entire satisfaction--always provided he have the means at
hand to do either. But other considerations generally control the
American farmer. His pocket is apt more often to be pinched, than his
choice is to be at fault; and this weighty argument compels him into the
"make shift" system, which perhaps in its results, provided the main
chance be attained, is quite as advantageous to his interests as the
other.

As a general remark, all buildings should show for themselves, what they
are built of. Let stone be stone; bricks show on their own account; and
of all things, put no counterfeit by way of plaster, stucco, or other
false pretence other than paint, or a durable wash upon wood: it is a
miserable affectation always, and of no possible use whatever. All
counterfeit of any kind as little becomes the buildings of the farmer,
as the gilded _pinchbeck_ watch would fit the finished attire of a
gentleman.

Before submitting the several designs proposed for this work, it may be
remarked, that in addressing them to a climate strictly American, we
have in every instance adopted the wide, steeply-pitched roof, with
broad eaves, gables and cornices, as giving protection, shade, and
shelter to the walls; thus keeping them dry and in good preservation,
and giving that well housed, and comfortable expression, so different
from the stiff, pinched, and tucked-up look in which so many of the
haberdasher-built houses of the present day exult.

We give some examples of the hipped roof, because they are convenient
and cheap in their construction; and we also throw into the designs a
lateral direction to the roofs of the wings, or connecting parts of the
building. This is sometimes done for effect in architectural appearance,
and sometimes for the economy and advantage of the building itself.
Where roofs thus intersect or connect with a side wall, the connecting
gutters should be made of copper, zinc, lead, galvanized iron, or tin,
into which the shingles, if they be covered with that material, should
be laid so as to effectually prevent leakage. The _eave gutters_ should
be of copper, zinc, lead, galvanized iron or tin, also, and placed _at
least_ one foot back from the edge of the roof, and lead the water into
conductors down the wall into the cistern or elsewhere, as may be
required. If the water be not needed, and the roof be wide over the
walls, there is no objection to let it pass off naturally, if it be no
inconvenience to the ground below, and can run off, or be absorbed into
the ground without detriment to the cellar walls. All this must be
subject to the judgment of the proprietor himself.




OUTSIDE COLOR.


We are not among those who cast off, and on a sudden condemn, as out of
all good taste, the time-honored white house with its green blinds,
often so tastefully gleaming out from beneath the shade of summer trees;
nor do we doggedly adhere to it, except when in keeping, by contrast or
otherwise, with everything around it. For a century past white has been
the chief color of our wooden houses, and often so of brick ones, in the
United States. This color has been supposed to be strong and durable,
being composed chiefly of white lead; and as it _reflected_ the rays of
the sun instead of _absorbing_ them, as some of the darker colors do, it
was thus considered a better preserver of the weather-boarding from the
cracks which the fervid heat of the sun is apt to make upon it, than the
darker colors. White, consequently, has always been considered, until
within a few years past, as a fitting and _tasteful_ color for
dwellings, both in town and country. A new school of _taste_ in colors
has risen, however, within a few years past, among us; about the same
time, too, that the recent gingerbread and beadwork style of country
building was introduced. And these were both, as all _new_ things are
apt to be, carried to extremes. Instead of _toning_ down the glare of
the white into some quiet, neutral shade, as a straw color; a drab of
different hues--always an agreeable and appropriate color for a
dwelling, particularly when the door and window casings are dressed with
a deeper or lighter shade, as those shades predominate in the main body
of the house; or a natural and soft _wood_ color, which also may be of
various shades; or even the warm russet hue of some of our rich
stones--quite appropriate, too, as applied to wood, or bricks--the
_fashion_ must be followed without either rhyme or reason, and hundreds
of our otherwise pretty and imposing country houses have been daubed
over with the dirtiest, gloomiest pigment imaginable, making every
habitation which it touched look more like a funeral appendage than a
cheerful, life-enjoying home. We candidly say that we have no sort of
affection for such sooty daubs. The fashion which dictates them is a
barbarous, false, and arbitrary fashion; void of all natural taste in
its inception; and to one who has a cheerful, life-loving spirit about
him, such colors have no more fitness on his dwelling or out-buildings,
than a tomb would have in his lawn or dooryard.

Locality, amplitude of the buildings, the purpose to which they are
applied--every consideration connected with them, in fact, should be
consulted, as to color. Stone will give its own color; which, by the
way, some prodigiously smart folks _paint_--quite as decorous or
essential, as to "paint the lily." Brick sometimes must be painted, but
it should be of a color in keeping with its character,--of substance and
dignity; not a counterfeit of stone, or to cheat him who looks upon it
into a belief that it may be marble, or other unfounded pretension.
A _warm_ russet is most appropriate for brick-work of any kind of
color--the color of a russet apple, or undressed leather--shades that
comport with Milton's beautiful idea of

"_Russet_ lawns and fallows _gray_."

Red and yellow are both too glaring, and slate, or lead colors too
somber and cold. It is, in fact, a strong argument in favor of bricks in
building, where they can be had as cheap as stone or wood, that any
color can be given to them which the good taste of the builder may
require, in addition to their durability, which, when made of good
material, and properly burned, is quite equal to stone. In a wooden
structure one may play with his fancy in the way of color, minding in
the operation, that he does not play the mountebank, and like the clown
in the circus, make his tattooed tenement the derision of men of correct
taste, as the other does his burlesque visage the ridicule of his
auditors.

A _wooden_ country house, together with its out-buildings, should always
be of a cheerful and softly-toned color--a color giving a feeling of
warmth and comfort; nothing glaring or flashy about it. And yet, such
buildings should not, in their color, any more than in their
architecture, appear as if _imitating_ either stone or brick. Wood, of
itself, is light. One cannot build a _heavy_ house of wood, as compared
with brick or stone. Therefore all imitation or device which may lead to
a belief that it may be other than what it really is, is nothing less
than a fraud--not criminal, we admit, but none the less a fraud upon
good taste and architectural truth.

It is true that in this country we cannot afford to place in stone and
brick buildings those ornate trimmings and appendages which, perhaps, if
economy were not to be consulted, might be more durably constructed of
stone, but at an expense too great to be borne by those of moderate
means. Yet it is not essential that such appendages should be of so
expensive material. The very purposes to which they are applied, as a
parapet, a railing, a balustrade, a portico, piazza, or porch; all these
may be of wood, even when the material of the house _proper_ is of the
most durable kind; and by being painted in keeping with the building
itself, produce a fine effect, and do no violence to good taste or the
most fastidious propriety. They may be even sanded to a color, and
grained, stained, or otherwise brought to an identity, almost, with the
material of the house, and be quite proper, because they simply are
_appendages_ of convenience, necessity, or luxury, to the building
itself, and may be taken away without injuring or without defacing the
main structure. They are not a _material_ part of the building itself,
but reared for purposes which may be dispensed with. It is a matter of
taste or preference, that they were either built there, or that they
remain permanently afterward, and of consequence, proper that they be of
wood. Yet they should not _imitate_ stone or brick. They should still
show that they _are_ of wood, but in color and outside preservation
denote that they are appendages to a _stone_ or _brick_ house, by
complying with the proper shades in color which predominate in the
building itself, and become their own subordinate character.

Not being a professional painter, or compounder of colors, we shall
offer no receipts or specifics for painting or washing buildings.
Climate affects the composition of both paints and washes, and those who
are competent in this line, are the proper persons to dictate their
various compositions; and we do but common justice to the skill and
intelligence of our numerous mechanics, when we recommend to those who
contemplate building, to apply forthwith to such as are masters of their
trade for all the information they require on the various subjects
connected with it. One who sets out to be his own architect, builder,
and painter, is akin to the lawyer in the proverb, who has a fool for
his client, when pleading his own case, and quite as apt to have quack
in them all. Hints, general outlines, and oftentimes matters of detail
in interior convenience, and many other minor affairs may be given by
the proprietor, when he is neither a professional architect, mechanic,
or even an amateur; but in all things affecting the _substantial_ and
important parts of his buildings, he should consult those who are
proficient and experienced in the department on which he consults them.
And it may perhaps be added that none _professing_ to be such, are
competent, unless well instructed, and whose labors have met the
approbation of those competent to judge.

There is one kind of color, prevailing to a great extent in many parts
of our country, particularly the northern and eastern, which, in its
effect upon any one having an eye to a fitness of things in country
buildings, is a monstrous perversion of good taste. That is the glaring
red, made up of Venetian red, ochre, or Spanish brown, with doors and
windows touched off with white. The only apology we have ever heard
given for such a barbarism was, that it is a good, strong, and lasting
color. We shall not go into an examination as to that fact, but simply
answer, that if it be so, there are other colors, not more expensive,
which are equally strong and durable, and infinitely more tasteful and
fitting. There can be nothing less comporting with the simplicity of
rural scenery, than a glaring red color on a building. It _connects_
with nothing natural about it; it neither _fades_ into any surrounding
shade of soil or vegetation, and must of necessity, stand out in its own
bold and unshrouded impudence, a perfect Ishmaelite in color, and a
perversion of every thing harmonious in the design. We eschew _red_,
therefore, from every thing in rural architecture.




A SHORT CHAPTER ON TASTE.


The compound words, or terms _good-taste_ and _bad-taste_ have been used
in the preceding pages without, perhaps, sufficiently explaining what is
meant by the word _taste_, other than as giving vague and unsatisfactory
terms to the reader in measuring the subject in hand. _Taste_ is a term
universally applied in criticism of the fine-arts, such as painting,
sculpture, architecture, &c., &c., of which there are many schools--of
_taste_, we mean--some of them, perhaps natural, but chiefly
conventional, and all more or less arbitrary. The proverb, "there is no
accounting for taste," is as old as the aforesaid schools themselves,
and defines perfectly our own estimate of the common usage of the term.

As we have intended to use it, Webster defines the word _taste_ to be
"the faculty of discerning beauty, order, congruity, proportion,
symmetry, or whatever constitutes excellence; style; manner with respect
to what is pleasing." With this understanding, therefore; a fitness to
the purpose for which a thing is intended--got up in a manner agreeable
to the eye and the mind--preserving also a harmony between its various
parts and uses; pleasing to the eye, as addressed to the sense, and
satisfactory to the mind, as appropriate to the object for which it is
required;--these constitute _good-taste_, as the term is here
understood.

The term _style_, also, is "the _manner_ or _form_ of a thing."
When we say, "that is a stylish house," it should mean that it is in,
or approaches some particular style of building recognized by the
schools. It may or may not be in accordance with good taste, and is,
consequently, subject to the same capricious test in its government. Yet
_styles_ are subject to arrangement, and are classified in the several
schools of architecture, either as distinct specimens of acknowledged
orders, as the Doric, the Ionic, the Corinthian, in Grecian
architecture, or, the Tuscan and Composite, which are, more distinctly,
styles of Roman architecture. To these may be added the Egyptian, the
most massive of all; and either of them, in their proper character,
grand and imposing when applied to public buildings or extensive
structures, but altogether inapplicable, from their want of lightness
and convenience, to country or even city dwellings. Other styles--not
exactly orders--of architecture, such as the Italian, the Romanesque,
the Gothic, the Swiss, with their modifications--all of which admit of a
variety of departures from fixed rules, not allowed in the more rigid
orders--may be adapted in a variety of ways, to the most agreeable and
harmonious arrangement in architectural effect, for dwellings and
structures appurtenant to them.

The Italian style of architecture, modified somewhat in pretension and
extent, is admirably adapted to most parts of the United States. Its
general lightness, openness, and freedom gives a wide range of choice;
and its wings, verandas, and terraces, stretching off in any and almost
every direction desired, from the main building, make it exceedingly
appropriate for general use. The modern, or rural Gothic, branching off
sometimes into what is termed the English cottage style, and in many
instances blending so intimately with the Italian, as hardly to mark the
line of division, is also a beautiful _arrangement_ of building for
country dwellings. These, in ruder structures, may also be carried into
the Rustic--not a style proper, in itself--but so termed as
approximating in execution or pretension to either of the above; while
the Swiss, with its hanging roofs, and sheltering eaves may be
frequently brought in aid to show out the rustic form in more
completeness, and in greater harmony with surrounding objects, than
either of the others.

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