EVERYTHING in reason should be done to make the breakfast a tolerably pleasant meal. Very cheerful or jovial it seldom is. The father is in a hurry to get to his office or business, and usually buries himself in the morning paper; the children are burdened with the thought of approaching school duties; the mother is silently mapping out the line of her day's operations, and is disinclined to conversation. Add to this that all are apt to be more or less dominated by the physical depression of tone and passive discomfort so well known that one judge is fabled to have refused to ordain capital punishment for a man convicted of having committed a murder before breakfast. Until after that meal, even the best-tempered are prone to petulance, while those of a taciturn nature are quiet to the verge of what looks like sullenness.

Here, as everywhere, upon the mother devolves the burden of the family well-being. If her face is cast down and gloomy, its reflection is seen in the countenances of all those about her; while if she is bright and sunny, there is a perceptible rise in the spiritual thermometer. Only by making a positive duty of cheerfulness is it practicable sometimes for the mother to conquer the weariness and languor, the aching head, and the loathing for food, that are so frequently a woman's morning portion. The discomfort the other members of the family know is increased tenfold in her case if a restless child, an ailing baby, or worry over financial or domestic matters has robbed her of part of her night's sleep.

A good deal may be done to create an atmosphere of pleasantness by due attention to the condition of the room. Unless it has been left in spotless order the preceding evening, either the maid or one of the family must bestow some attention upon it beyond putting the breakfast on the table. No crumbs from the last repast should disfigure the carpet; no dust of yesterday's raising should be thick upon the furniture. The windows should have been open long enough to change the air of the room; then, in cold weather, been closed a sufficient length of time before the entrance of the family to allow the atmosphere to become comfortably warmed. The vase of flowers or the growing plant that ought to grace the centre of every table should have a drink of fresh water, and be ready to do its part in brightening the board. The table should be carefully set, the food well cooked, and promptly served. And, above all, there should be a sincere and conscientious endeavor on the part of each member of the household to sink his own disagreeable feelings, and to do all in his power to contribute his share towards the sum total of the family cheerfulness. Conversation on pleasant topics should be encouraged, and the items of morning news distributed to all, not monopolized by the one in possession of the paper.

No amount of accustomedness should ever induce the mistress of the house to condone carelessness on the plea that there is no one present but the family. Just because it is "only home folks," everything should be at its brightest. There is no necessity for urging the parade of pretty china, the preparation of tempting dishes, when an honored guest is to be served. Should not even more pains be taken to have everything attractive and appetizing when those are to be fed who have not the charm of novelty to act as sauce, and to whom the ordinary methods of cookery may seem stale and hackneyed?

The table should always appear at its best at breakfast-time. A colored cloth is economical as well as pretty, for it does not show every spot or splash with the readiness of a white cloth. There is a large variety of these table coverings from which the housekeeper may make her selections, ranging in beauty and price from the plain, comparatively cheap red cloth with light figures to the exquisite pieces of fine damask, gorgeous with embroidery, and with a lace-like border of drawn-work. For common daily use, the judicious choice will probably lie somewhere between these, either in a buff, a buff and scarlet, a buff and blue, or one of the beautiful Holbein cloths that come, with the dozen napkins, at about eight dollars the set. The ground in these is well covered, and they have the advantage of being nearly as pretty on the wrong side as they are on the right. Another recommendation is that they wear admirably, one at least within the writer's knowledge having been in constant use for between four and five years without showing a sign of old age, except in the thinning of the fringe, while the body of the cloth remained without a break. The delicate tints of the worked pattern will fade with frequent washing, so that blue and pink would better be avoided, and the preference given to the scarlets and buffs, which hold their own well.

The cloth is saved by the use of mats under dishes. Those of straw or wicker-work are apt to become soiled and stained, and are not readily cleansed. On the contrary, those which are knitted, netted, or crocheted may be washed every week, if necessary. It is almost impossible to find a waitress so careful that once in a while a dish will not be brought to the table with a black rim on the bottom, or wet or greasy with something spilled where it has been standing on the kitchen-table. Wherever this touches, the cloth beneath is disfigured, and it is better to protect it against such misadventures by the use of mats in the first place than to be forced to conceal the blemishes afterwards by "setting the table to humor the spots."

Worked and fringed doilies are pretty substitutes for mats, and when there is a cover of felt on the table under the damask cloth—as there should always be—they are thick enough to guard the varnished table-top from injury from the hot dishes. A carving-cloth should be spread under the meat-platter, and will generally by the close of the meal bear upon its surface eloquent testimony to the service it has done in saving the table-cloth.

While it is no sign of stinginess not to have one's best and most fragile china for constant use, poor judgment is shown when only plain heavy white ware is employed for the family when they are alone. Decorated porcelain is cheap nowadays, and makes a table look extremely pretty. Each one of the household should have his own especial oatmeal set, either the bowl, plate, and pitcher, or one of the deep saucers that come for this purpose in dark blue and white ware, with a plate to match, while the cream or milk may be held for common use in one good-sized pitcher, to be served by the mother, or passed to each, as may seem best. Every tea or coffee drinker should have his own cup and saucer, and in his imagination his favorite beverage will taste better from that cup than from any other.

There is little chance to make mistakes in setting the breakfast-table. The hostess has the tray before her, and serves the tea, coffee, or chocolate. At the other end of the table is the principal dish, presided over generally by the master of the house, while biscuit, bread, muffins, or griddle-cakes and potatoes have their posts at the sides. An oatmeal set stands at each place, accompanied by the knife, fork, and spoon, tumbler, napkin, butter-plate—unless the oatmeal course is preceded by one of fruit, when fruit plates, with fruit napkins and finger-bowls, should hold the first place.

With the fresh room, the bright cloth, the shining glass and silver, the vase of flowers, the appetizing food, one must be either very dyspeptic or a confirmed pessimist who does not feel a slight rise of spirits as he takes his place at the breakfast-table.