The Easiest Way in Housekeeping and Cooking | Page 5

duty in
making a home is to consider earnestly and intelligently certain points.
Four essentials are to be thought of in the choice of any home; and their
neglect, and the ignorance which is the foundation of this neglect, are
the secret of not only the chronic ill-health supposed to be a necessity
of the American organization, but of many of the epidemics and
mysterious diseases classed under the head of "visitations of
Providence."
These essentials are: a wholesome situation, good ventilation, good
drainage, and a dry cellar. Rich or poor, high or low, if one of these be
disregarded, the result will tell, either on your own health or on that of
your family. Whether palace or hut, brown-stone front or simple
wooden cottage, the law is the same. As a rule, the ordinary town or
village is built upon low land, because it is easier to obtain a
water-supply from wells and springs. In such a case, even where the
climate itself may be tolerably healthy, the drainage from the hills at
hand, or the nearness of swamps and marshes produced by the same
cause, makes a dry cellar an impossibility; and this shut-in and
poisonous moisture makes malaria inevitable. The dwellers on low
lands are the pill and patent-medicine takers; and no civilized country
swallows the amount of tonics and bitters consumed by our own.
If possible, let the house be on a hill, or at least a rise of ground, to
secure the thorough draining-away of all sewage and waste water. Even
in a swampy and malarious country, such a location will insure all the
health possible in such a region, if the other conditions mentioned are
faithfully attended to.

Let the living-rooms and bedrooms, as far as may be, have full
sunshine during a part of each day; and reserve the north side of the
house for store-rooms, refrigerator, and the rooms seldom occupied. Do
not allow trees to stand so near as to shut out air or sunlight; but see
that, while near enough for beauty and for shade, they do not constantly
shed moisture, and make twilight in your rooms even at mid-day.
Sunshine is the enemy of disease, which thrives in darkness and
shadow. Consumption or scrofulous disease is almost inevitable in the
house shut in by trees, whose blinds are tightly closed lest some ray of
sunshine fade the carpets; and over and over again it has been proved
that the first conditions of health are, abundant supply of pure air, and
free admission of sunlight to every nook and cranny. Even with
imperfect or improper food, these two allies are strong enough to carry
the day for health; and, when the three work in harmony, the best life is
at once assured.
If the house must be on the lowlands, seek a sandy or gravelly soil; and
avoid those built over clay beds, or even where clay bottom is found
under the sand or loam. In the last case, if drainage is understood, pipes
may be so arranged as to secure against any standing water; but, unless
this is done, the clammy moisture on walls, and the chill in every
closed room, are sufficient indication that the conditions for disease are
ripe or ripening. The only course in such case, after seeking proper
drainage, is, first, abundant sunlight, and, second, open fires, which
will act not only as drying agents, but as ventilators and purifiers. Aim
to have at least one open fire in the house. It is not an extravagance, but
an essential, and economy may better come in at some other place.
Having settled these points as far as possible,--the question of
water-supply and ventilation being left to another chapter,--it is to be
remembered that the house is not merely a place to be made pleasant
for one's friends. They form only a small portion of the daily life; and
the first consideration should be: Is it so planned that the necessary and
inevitable work of the day can be accomplished with the least
expenditure of force? North and South, the kitchen is often the
least-considered room of the house; and, so long as the necessary meals
are served up, the difficulties that may have hedged about such serving

are never counted. At the South it is doubly so, and necessarily; old
conditions having made much consideration of convenience for
servants an unthought-of thing. With a throng of unemployed women
and children, the question could only be, how to secure some small
portion of work for each one; and in such case, the greater the
inconveniences, the more chance for such employment. Water could
well be half a mile distant, when a dozen little darkies had nothing to
do but form a running line between house and spring; and so