I think so very much of the appearance of our rooms depends on how we arrange our corners that I have had two large drawings made from corners in my present house, which, at the risk of appearing egotistical, I am going to write about; not because I consider them perfect—no house can really be perfect unless far more money is spent upon it than I am able to spend—but because I consider they will in some measure assist those who, like myself, are very fond of pretty and comfortable things, but are not prepared to ruin themselves in order to obtain this most desirable combination. I wrote so fully in my former book on the arrangement of sitting-rooms that I am only going to touch lightly on the orthodox papering and painting of dining-, drawing-, and morning-rooms, reserving all my new ideas for the billiard-room and library, neither of which rooms were considered likely to be required for the modest young couple starting in life, for whom I more particularly designed that special volume.

As I said before, this book is intended for older folks, or for those who have more of this world’s goods than Edwin and Angelina were supposed to possess; and, therefore, it really supplements—it does not in any measure do away with—‘From Kitchen to Garret;’ and as I am most anxious to impress this upon my readers by not repeating any of the information I gave there, I intend especially in the present chapter to denote how, with a little care, the modest house can be expanded into a more artistic abode, or how a bigger house can be furnished, the while we do not set on one side the furniture with which we began life, and which we possessed ourselves of with so much gladness and with such a sense of importance—at least, I hope all my readers did, for the culture of home and of all that makes a home cannot, in my opinion, be too much developed. Therefore, from their earliest days children should be encouraged to think about their own special rooms, and should be taught to notice and have a voice in the arrangement of all the house. If the house is thoroughly appreciated and cultivated, if, above all, it is the prettiest and happiest place our children know of, we shall not have much difficulty with them when they cease to be children and begin to feel they have a separate existence to ours. They have this separate existence, and we should endeavour that, without in any measure relaxing the ties of duty and politeness, they should be able to feel they are themselves and not our bond-slaves; and this can only be done by consulting and talking with them freely about all we have and do, letting them, if they will, develop their own tastes gradually, but not in a manner that will oust us from our proper place or jar with any of our own pet ideas on the subject of home and its decoration and embellishment; for it is better to endure the ugliest place in the world cheerfully than to live in artistic completeness, if this same artistic completeness means sweeping away all the landmarks of our elders and betters, and leaving them stranded in an unfamiliar world of new tables and chairs, which are nothing to them, and but ill replace the furniture which reminds them of so much that we never knew about or have entirely forgotten. I have known a girl in her zeal for beauty make her mother so abjectly miserable by removing a round table, once the centre of the scattered houseful of boys and girls, and by ruthlessly disposing of clumsy and hideous furniture, made precious by memories of those who have gone into the land of shadows, that I am compelled at times to allow sentiment to sway me and to say, Consider first whether a thing has associations before, in one’s anxiety for beauty, one does away with it. If it have, let it remain, for nothing can ever replace it; but if it have not (and I sternly myself refuse to become sentimental over a chair or footstool), by all means get rid of it, and replace it with something lighter and more modern. As a rule, this will not last long enough for us to cling round it mentally or to deck it with any of the finer sentiment that is inseparable from much of the heavy mahogany and walnut under which so many of my disciples still groan, and which has been handed down from one generation to another, each generation becoming more and more discontented with it, until the present are in open revolt against that which gave our grandmothers and great-grandmothers the greatest possible gratification to possess.

The pretty corners in which we all delight, and the lightness and brightness that now characterise our houses, would have been the source of endless woe and trouble to the dear ladies of old. The corners would have meant dust and ‘gimcracks,’ and as the light colours in which we revel would and do soon become soiled, they, too, would have been deprecated because they showed the dirt, which was present equally in the darker rooms, but not being visible was not taken any notice of until the annual clean, when all was made aggressively shining and absolutely spotless, remaining so for about a week, when dust began to gather again, but it was unnoticed because the dark materials did not show the dirt, which, however, could be felt, did our finger come in contact with the rough moreen or dismal repps in which their souls delighted, and of which specimens still haunt us in the houses of those who are possessors of similar heirlooms with which they dare not part.

Then, too, the dear ladies were so fond of stuffing up their windows and darkening their rooms still more by the drawing down of blinds and the eliminating of every morsel of sunshine, for fear their precious carpets would become faded; and I am sorry to say that this affection for half-dark rooms yet lingers among many who ought to know better. But when I stumble into one of these rooms, where one cannonades against the furniture and falls over footstools in the half-light, I always feel convinced that the blinds are drawn to prevent the sun beating too warmly on the faded complexion of the owner of that house, or to hide the ravages of time, that the liberally applied pearl-powder and rouge and the sticky harsh dye are powerless to remove entirely, but that almost disappear in the rose-tinted chambers I so abhor and despise; and I therefore know what to expect when I am ushered into one of these stuffy, dismal rooms, and am thankful when I get out of it; for the mind that can delight in defying age with paint and dye is not likely to find me of the smallest use. I should say at once, Do away with the blinds and shorten the curtains, and let in some air; and as the owner of that house would sooner dye—I mean die—than accede to my request, I have nothing to say to her, and get away as soon as I can. Any amount of decoration for the house I like and appreciate, but I cannot appreciate or understand the ambition that makes one Aspinall one’s face and pretend to be five-and-twenty when one knows one will never see forty again.

Corners are especially appreciated, unfortunately, by the ladies who draw their blinds down and never face the eye of day save in a carriage, with a spotted veil over their features and a shading parasol, and no doubt some of these individuals will look at the pictures in this book and may see these words of wisdom; if they do, I hope they will consider them, wash their faces, and pull up their blinds. I can assure them they will be far happier and healthier, more especially if they realise that the time they spend in tiring their heads and painting their faces is absolutely wasted—it neither makes them younger nor more ornamental—and that it would be far better employed in working for others, or in making their homes as cheerful as unfailing sunshine and fresh air invariably do. Therefore, down with the curtains and up with the blinds, and let us have as much cheerful sunshine as this rather disappointing climate will allow us to possess, and the first corner I would make is the summer corner, for, that once made, dismal darkness and stuffiness would be an impossibility.

The special corner illustrated here is one of the windows in my present morning-room, which is at the end of the room, in a curious species of square nook to itself; there is an enormous species of bow-window beside, where I have my desk and other belongings, and beyond that again is a third window, below which I have a long book-case full of books; but though this window is to some extent unique, the seat illustrated here, which is an adaptation or rather an enlargement of Giles’ ‘Cosy Corner,’ could be put under any window and of course enlarged immensely; if desired, it could go across one side of the room, and the arm with a curtain could come out straight from the wall of the room, thus making a sheltered place in which to sit and read; and breaking up admirably the long straight look of the wall, which all too often makes an ordinary room the most uninteresting place in the world, and the most difficult to render artistic and pleasant. The right-hand side of the seat should be at least two feet longer than the left-hand side, or else the seat will look too much like a family pew, which cognomen one of my friends is rude enough to give to my present seat, but arranged with the ends of an uneven length, the seat looks like nothing save what it is—a remarkably comfortable lounge, where one can either sit and read or talk, and it forms an extremely pretty addition to any room.

The special seat illustrated here is enamelled Aspinall’s electric turquoise, and is upholstered in Colbourne’s yellow and white Louis XVI. damask, at 2s. 11½d. a yard, but I intend soon to replace this covering by dark yellow stamped

corduroy velveteen, for, pretty as the Louis XVI. damask is, and admirable as it is for curtains and table-cloths, it does not answer for hard wear, and soon becomes soiled and rubbed, a fact Giles warned me about; but I was anxious to experiment myself on the subject; and having done so, and found it does not answer, here solemnly warn my readers from using this charming material for tight coverings or where real hard wear is expected of it. Tightly upholstered furniture should be always covered in something that will really wear, not only because of the expense, but because of the worry of having workmen always in the house replacing the furniture which has become soiled and worn.

But whatever the seat is upholstered in, the fringe round the seat should not be forgotten, and it should almost touch the ground; mine does not, and in consequence the seat always has the appearance of having grown out of its frocks; and the material should be in some measure a contrast to the colour used for enamelling the ends and woodwork; indeed, I much prefer the ends, &c., to be of some polished wood, while the straight piece above the seat and below the shelf could be either plainly painted or polished wood, or else it could be made of brocade or Japanese leather paper. Mr. Giles puts Lincrusta in those he sells to fit into recesses, but I cannot endure this stiff and very ugly material, and always ask him to replace it for me with something preferable, the excellent Japanese leather looking better, in my opinion, than anything else. The straight piece above the seat, if covered in brocade and furnished with tiny hooks, would make an admirable place to display the miniatures and odds and ends of silver that are so fashionable; really old and valuable fans could also be displayed here to advantage, and a thin sheet of talc could be stretched over all. Glass would be too heavy, and the talc would protect the fans, &c., from dust, and yet be sufficiently transparent.

The shelf for china is part of the seat: this is of wood, either enamelled or polished, and should be carefully arranged; the tall jar containing grasses at the end of the shelf in the sketch is really in the corner in my room, and fills up the space between the curtain and the wall, and in the opposite corner from the frieze-rail hangs one of Benson’s admirable copper lamps with a copper shade; this throws the light down on the seat, and enables one to read there, should one wish to do so, the cushioned corner below the lamp being perhaps the most comfortable spot in the whole seat. Just on the other side of the arms, and below the top of them, I had small tea-cup shelves put; they shut down completely, and when not in use are scarcely visible, but they make a great deal of difference to one’s comfort; for one can rest one’s cup there easily, and in consequence this corner makes a favourite spot during the ceremony of afternoon tea, which we always hold in the morning-room, our present drawing-room being only used when lighted up, as it is dark and depressing, because of the numerous trees by which we are surrounded, and that make it unbearable until the lamps are lighted and the yellow and white decoration stands out in the admirable manner in which these two colours always do when once artificial light falls upon them.

The big pillows are in yellow, deep-red, and electric turquoise, and were bought at Maple’s for 16s. 11d. each; but those who really possess numerous pillows, soft and comfortable enough to lean against, but hideous to contemplate, will be glad to hear that Maple sells these frilled silk covers ready to slip on, which would transform in a moment the most frightful pillow ever presented to an unfortunate bride, who yet dare not do away with the kind gift of a relative who may be has not gone with the times or holds the stern opinion that a gift one makes oneself is worth any amount of presents bought in a shop: so it is, if the work be present day work, and really artistic; but the beaded cushion or (the worst development of all) that covered with crazy patchwork, still exists unfortunately, and may exist, blamelessly and usefully, if slipped into one of these covers, which can be whipped off in a moment, should the donor appear unexpectedly, or be even pointed out as our pious endeavour to preserve the ‘beautiful’ work by a cover one does not mind if one spoils: an excellently plausible excuse that spares the feelings of the maker and our own sensitive optics at the same time.

The curtain on my seat is hanging on a brass rod, and is made from a remarkably beautiful pattern of yellow and brown stamped velveteen known as the Graham velveteen, and sold by Graham & Biddle; both sides of the curtain are alike, as I have doubled the material, and I am very fond of this special bit of colour and design; but if the velveteen is objected to, the curtain can be made from the soft artistic silk Shoolbred sells at 2s. a yard; this must be double too, and put on very full, or else it will soon become skimpy and flabby. The table at the end of the seat has a loose cover of dark-red Bokhara plush, a capital species of ribbed plush edged with ball fringe; this costs 6s. 11½d. a yard from Colbourne, and it takes a yard and a quarter to make the square, which is necessary for one of these cloths; a big yellow pot holding a palm stands on the table, the palm giving place whenever possible to a flowering plant, a great white azalea, and a big white rose tree, and also an orange tree with flowers and fruit, and a flowering daphne having all appeared there to the greatest possible advantage. Beyond the curtain, at the extreme end of the seat, I hang a long Japanese bamboo, and have flowers here whenever possible. These bamboos are most decorative, and look nice with comparatively few flowers in them.

On the other side of the seat, at the end, a palm stands on the low, square, velvet-covered stools I prefer to anything else for pot stands; and at the extreme end I always have one of Mrs. M‘Clelland’s admirable newspaper and magazine stands; these are the right height for use and stand on two crossed legs; one side takes papers and the other magazines; a paper-knife is slipped into a bracket at the side, and altogether the stand is a wonderful comfort, and above all makes an excellent present for a man—that most difficult of all creatures to give a present to, unless one half ruin oneself in order to make him an offering.

The walls of this special room are covered with Mr. Smee’s admirable blue paper at 4s. the piece, all the paint is Aspinall’s electric-turquoise enamel, the frieze is plain gold Japanese leather paper, and the ceiling is in squares; the moulding that forms each square is coloured cream, and the squares themselves are filled in with a well-designed yellow and white ceiling paper from Mr. Smee’s at 3s. a piece; the floor is covered with yellow and white matting, and has several rugs lying about, and the curtains are Louis XVI. tapestry, in yellow and white, edged with the usual ball fringe—the smaller windows having this only, the larger one having ‘guipure vitrage’ on it as well. The frieze has been embellished most successfully in three or four places with great branches of Japanese-looking japonica in the natural colours; and this is an immense improvement, as one requires touches of red undoubtedly about the room. The branches do not go all round the room in the orthodox manner, but are scattered in three or four places, and are the work of an artist. A good effect can be obtained by merely outlining with a careful brush the patterns that are on all Japanese leather papers with a little ‘Scinde red.’ Of course this must not be done all over the frieze, but simply here and there, and should be executed with taste, and a great amount of common sense as well.

Before I say any more about this room, or about the other corner which has been arranged for winter use, I want to draw the attention of my readers especially to the windows. My plan of doing away with blinds was illustrated as regards a bow window, and the tiny squares of the manor house windows before, but no one has ever seemed able to grasp the manner in which an ordinary flat window or a French window can be managed. This window is the ordinary flat window; and can anything be simpler than the white curtains of ‘guipure vitrage’ stretched on two slight rods fastened on the window frame, not on the sash? These curtains remain in place, whether the window is open or shut, and, in consequence, were they used in a bedroom, one could dress comfortably with the window open, the curtains remaining in place and serving as a blind. With the ordinary short blind, which vulgarises any house, and to which English house-mothers cling with a devotion worthy of a better cause, one must keep the windows closed during the process of dressing, as the blind goes up with the window, and leaves the room exposed to the glances of anyone who may be passing by. The thicker curtains hang from a separate brass rod, which is rather larger than those used for the muslin. These curtains are attached to rings which allow them to be drawn easily along the rods at night, and when the sun shines too warmly and brightly, and, therefore, no hideously ugly blinds are required; for even ladies whose dubious complexions forbid the free entrance of the blessed sun can make their rooms as dark as they like by drawing these curtains, which can be lined with a thick sateen, and should be edged with a ball fringe, to break the hard line which always spoils the look of any curtain when left untrimmed. ‘Guipure vitrage,’ which is to be had from Wallace, from 10¾d. a yard, makes admirable under curtains. Of course it is much dearer than Kay’s butter muslin, or his easily-draped Indian muslin at 2¾d. a yard. But then these muslins require making up, and must be edged with softly falling frills, which should be from 3 to 5 inches in width, according to the size of the window. These frills are put on without any heading, and fall in a sort of cascade. The frilled muslins sold now by the yard at any big shop are not nearly so satisfactory, as the frills are goffered, and are very stiff. Making the frilled curtains is a serious consideration: they must be done by hand, as the muslin will not stand the machine, and the hemming required is rather hard work, and therefore ‘guipure vitrage,’ despite its price, should recommend itself to those who are not given to sewing. It merely requires hemming top and bottom, and the rods pass through these hems, which should be loose enough to allow of the curtain being moved to cover the window entirely, should this be necessary, or to part in the centre, so that any view there may be need not be obscured.

In the ordinary London house, where all sorts of endeavours are made to completely hide the doings of the inhabitants of the rooms from the passers-by, these curtains, especially in the Indian muslin from Kay’s, are invaluable. No one can see in, and all can see out, while further protection could be obtained by flower boxes along the window-ledges in the summer, and put inside the rooms in the winter, if desired. A couple of iron brackets could be put out, one each side of the window, Aspinalled to match the rest of the paint, and on this the box could rest, full of flowering plants, when the weather outside would be too cold for them to live and flourish. The whole of the house should be done alike with the curtains, of which a double set should be made. The ‘guipure vitrage’ must not be very much starched, and it must be carefully pulled out and stretched before it is quite dry, or else it will seem to have shrunk; but with care and proper washing these curtains would last three or four years, and, as there is no real trouble in making, should soon be the favourite material for these short curtains. The cost would be about 4s. a window, so that it would be easy for anyone to see what their house would cost them. Naturally the other muslin would come only to about 1s. a window; in this case the sewing must be done by the owner of the house or her maids.

I think from this sketch anyone can see how the ordinary blindless window is managed; while the way to arrange a French window is shown in the frontispiece so plainly that no further description can possibly be needed.

And now we come to the winter corner, the sketch of which requires very little comment from me, as I think it speaks for itself; but my readers may be interested to know that the sofa illustrated here began life as a wretched stiff sofa with a scroll end, and no side whatever, and was bought very cheaply of a country tradesman. When I wanted to make a comfortable seat by the fire, I got another local genius to put the scroll end upright, and to put on the side. This transformed the seat at once, and made a most comfortable lounge, more especially as I had the legs cut down, until it is only fourteen inches high, the seat being about twenty-four inches wide. This is a seat pur et simple; but by putting a couple of pillows on the end of the sofa nearest the wall and stuffing them comfortably down there, one makes an excellent rest for one’s head, and can lie there in warmth and peace. This corner, by the way, is a special favourite of Max, the tabby cat, who much resents being moved therefrom, and retreats in great dudgeon to a chair from Liberty, which stands the other side of the fireplace, which is only just indicated in the sketch, and which is a charming but simple design, from Shuffery in Welbeck Street.

Behind the sofa stands the corner cabinet made for me by Mr. Smee, and which is just what such a cabinet ought to be. I have seen a corner cabinet which looked as if its middle had suddenly collapsed, the two sides going into a miserable point, which was as ugly as it was unsatisfactory, and I could not think what was the matter with it, until I discovered that the point ought to have been behind, and that the front should be comparatively straight, as in our illustration. This cabinet is enamelled electric

turquoise, and has brass handles to the drawers and cupboard, which are made for use, and hold an immense variety of things. The drawers are divided in half inside, which is a great convenience, as it enables one to keep papers and properties of all sorts and conditions separate and distinct; while the cupboard also has a shelf in it, and is the whole length and width of the bottom part, thus holding a good deal. The two little velveteen curtains are to break the monotony which would have been caused had the shelves been left open; and the top and shelves generally hold any quantity of china—the dull yellow and blue jars one buys at Gorringe’s being especially suitable for this room; as is the deep red Kaga and Imari ware imported in such quantities by Shoolbred, Liberty, and Whiteley, and indeed by almost every second shop nowadays.

The table shown in this illustration is one that is remarkably useful by reason of its second tray. My own table is covered in dull yellow corduroy velveteen, edged with a ball fringe; but if room were a great object, and there were much to store away, a loose table-cloth, in serge or Bokhara plush, could be thrown over it to conceal anything that was hidden thereunder. I am not fond of these makeshifts myself; but in a small room, where every single inch is of consequence, work that would be perhaps unsightly to leave about can be neatly folded and put on this tray; and another place to put away could be afforded, if we replaced my fireside sofa (which Wallace will supply at 5l. 15s. 6d. complete) by a sofa I saw at Hampton’s just lately. This is an improvement on the very useful box-ottomans I advocate in many bedrooms, and is much like a sofa with a tolerably high side and two ends; the top of the sofa lifts up, and discloses a good deep box, which would hold an immense quantity of things; while the whole affair does not look like a box-ottoman, but resembles a very comfortable and pretty sofa; this costs about 7l. 17s. 6d., and would be of immense use in a room where one had a great deal to put away, and very few convenient places to store one’s property in. This would stand where my sofa is in the sketch, or could be put in a recess one side of the fire; it would look well in either situation. I think this corner, too, gives some idea of how pictures can be hung about in an informal manner; although in every case these are represented in the sketch as being much higher than they really are; there is no formal arrangement, yet all seems to fall into place without trouble, and the whole effect is very good; flowers and plants are again to be found here, and indeed I cannot say too much about the desirability of filling our rooms with both plants and flowers. No house can be pretty without a great many of both; and no one who has not seen the immense difference plenty of plants make can have any idea of the satisfactory effect of these great adjuncts to the real decoration of a house. They cost money, but not one quarter of what they used to; and even in the depth of winter in London one can buy heaps of narcissus and jonquils absurdly cheaply, a shillingsworth making an appreciable difference in any house!

Beyond the chair just indicated in the sketch is a species of square arch, and beyond that a square end to the room itself; I did not at first see what I could do with this most ugly part of an ugly room, but at last the brilliant idea struck me, of which I give a tiny sketch here. I had a series of brackets put up the arch to hold china; the back of these brackets and the panelling above the arch itself was filled in with red and gold Japanese leather paper, and on each bracket I placed one of Elliott’s pots; the sides of the brackets were painted by Mr. M‘Clelland’s clever brush with red, yellow, and pink roses, and I at once found myself in possession of a charming object for contemplation, instead of a yawning gap, preposterous in structure and hideous to look at. By the left-hand side of the arch I place a beautifully embroidered Japanese silk screen in the most delicate shade of pink; I can dwell lovingly on this, as it was not my own selection, but was a Christmas present from someone who knew and studied my tastes, and it gives just the right finish to that corner; behind the last bracket stands a palm in an art-pot, and another little table with a blue cloth is in front of the screen, and completes that side of the room.

Below the last window is the long low book-case mentioned before; it is only about three feet high, and is enamelled electric turquoise like the rest of the room, and each shelf is edged with a frill of yellow printed linen; the top of these shelves makes an excellent rest for photographs, china, and plants, and is thus finished; had the book-case not been placed there I cannot think what I should have done, as no one can sit in that part of the room, which really is a tiny ante-room, or entrance merely, to what is not at the best a large room, but which would have been all the better had the eccentric designer done away with his arch and put all the space at his command into the room itself; but he did not, and so I have made the best use I can of the room as it is, though I really believe in so doing I have shortened my life perceptibly!

At the end of the room, opposite the window under which the book-case is, is a door—and such a door! when we came it was grained maple, and was the centre of a wooden partition, above which was a neat fanlight of starred glass. I shall never forget it—never! I have now put on each side of the door a curtain of Wallace’s ‘daisy brocade,’ and another on the door itself on one of Maple’s rods, which open and shut with the door. Above this there is a shelf to hold china, and the glass is replaced by leaded squares of cathedral glass. I mention all these details to show what a difference a small amount of common sense, a little woodwork, and a little money will make; indeed, in these days of artistic merit, when upholsterers are educated gentlemen, and the shop is no longer a badge of infamy, I think no one who is not utterly obstinate and tasteless need have an ugly house; though I must confess I still have to grieve over the many absolutely hideous houses in the land arranged by those who are not tasteless—I wish they were: then one could do something with them—but are so permeated by vile and vulgar tastes of their own that they will not be taught, and continue to offend our eyes with their belongings, regardless of the fact that in these days it is really easier to have pretty things than to have ugly ones. Before I pass on to other nooks and corners which can be made, I should like once more to impress upon my readers that for a morning-room nothing is so absolutely successful as regards decoration as this arrangement of greeny-blue, yellow and red. I have sat in it and contemplated it for just seven years, and I am more and more convinced that nothing else is so entirely satisfactory in every way; naturally we need not adhere to Mr. Smee’s 4s. paper, or there would be too much monotony about it. Marigold 81 at 5s. 6d. from Morris is just as beautiful, while Pither’s less expensive ‘blossom,’ ‘berry,’ and bay-tree papers, which average 1s. 6d. a piece, can all be used according to the size and shape of the room. And once more I should say most emphatically, Study your room; a dark dull room could not take this scheme of blue, and were such a chamber taken for the morning-room, which I hope and trust would not be the case, I should advocate another scheme of colouring altogether, and would suggest either a really beautiful pink and green floral paper called ‘Amaryllis’ at 10s. 6d. the piece from Wallace, or else Haines’s ‘rose’ paper at 3s. 9d. With either, I should suggest warm ivory paint, a pink and cream ceiling paper, and either cretonne curtains, in a cretonne to harmonise with the paper, or else of soft green Liberty silk, the greens procurable there being the greens to harmonise with pink, Liberty pink and green commingled making a most charming room, but one that should not be attempted cheaply. Green and pink must be in expensive materials to procure the proper shades, a common green and an inferior pink being about the most terrible colours one can have, although a common blue runs it very hard, as sporting individuals would say. A green carpet—either the green ‘lily,’ that always satisfactory, inexpensive carpet from Wallace, sold in blues, greens, and reds, at 3s. 11d. a yard, wide width, or else a dull green pile carpet from Pither’s—should be used in a room decorated in this manner, but the green must be an artistic green, and have no fidgety pattern to distract the eye or attract attention to what we should never see, unless our attention were really called to it.

If the morning-room were in the country, were a very hot room, and only used in summer, it would look very charming in sea-green and white. Morris has a beautiful sea-green paper at 3s. 6d.; and Chappell & Payne have a very pretty sea-green and white-chrysanthemum paper at a little under 2s., the same colour, which could be used were Morris too expensive. Either sea-green or ivory paint could be used. There could be a hand-painted frieze on sea-green ‘tectorium,’ of white lilac and the graceful white broom and their own foliage, and a pale sea-green cretonne should be chosen, with bunches of white lilac on. The floor should be covered with sea-green matting and rugs, which would bring a little colour into the room, and the furniture should be sea-green enamel upholstered in the cretonne. In the pink and green room, by the way, the furniture should be malachite green-stained, to be had from Wallace, and the muslin next the window should be Helbronner’s pink and green lily muslin. This is expensive, but it is by far the prettiest muslin for such a room that could be found. I think low basket-chairs are still the best chairs for a morning-room, but, if they can be afforded, one or two higher chairs should be provided. I find Shoolbred’s corduroy velveteen the best thing possible to cover basket-chairs with, unless one has a maid who is clever enough to unpick the cretonne covers and wash and replace them; then nothing is as nice as cretonne, and this same material, in some appropriate shade, would do for the

larger chairs. The cost of these must depend on the money we have to spend, but a good chair with comfortable springs costs from 5l. to 8l., and, if the money can be managed, I should advise as much as this being given; it will be cheaper in the long run. I think the most difficult matter of all to explain by mere words is the arrangement of a fireplace which is already supplied with one of the ‘handsome statuary’ marble mantel-pieces, which are so much admired by builders and folks who cannot help being impressed with the idea that marble mantel-pieces and a claim to gentility go hand in hand, and I am always imploring people not to drape these imitations with elaborate flutings and flounces of muslin and general awfulnesses. If the morning-room—or, indeed, any other room—is burdened with one of these mantel-pieces, paint it boldly with Aspinall (the paint can always be removed either with Carson’s ‘detergent’ or else by the ‘Eclipse Paint Remover’). See that it matches the rest of the paint in the room; then place along it the simple drapery I have illustrated here. This is quite sufficient. It hides a good piece of the underpart of the structure, and as it can be shaken daily does not collect dust and dirt, as must all more elaborate arrangements inevitably. This drapery is made by taking a straight piece of material about twenty-four inches wider and twenty-four inches longer than the mantel-piece itself; the sides and front are edged with a cord and a tassel, or else a few pompons are hung at the front corners; the drapery is placed straight along the mantel-piece, the uncorded edge against the wall, and drapes itself, being kept stationary by the ornaments and photographs, &c., we usually put on the shelf. Bokhara plush makes the best drapery, but if this is used three or four should be made at the same time, or else the plush cuts to waste. Of course the rest can be used in other ways; it makes admirable flat bell-pulls for bedrooms, with a brass ring at the end, and could be used as toilet covers; but corduroy velveteen is nearly as pretty, and, being the exact width required, would be the best material to use; it is only 2s. 9d. a yard. Whatever is used, the corners of the drapery should be lined with satin, or sateen, either in a paler colour than the drapery itself or in some contrast, as the corners show, and would not look nice at all unless they were lined. This completes the drapery, which is the only one that should be allowed, as it is simple and cleanly, which is more than can be said for any other arrangement. The pattern was given me by a friend, who bought it of a first-rate upholsterer in Paris, and is so simple, I cannot think why no one ever thought of it before in England.

Before we pass away from speaking of the fireplace, I should like to describe one or two ways of filling up the recesses generally found in present-day houses. In a dining-room I should always place the buffets there which I recommend in place of sideboards; then, in the drawing-room or morning-room, Giles’s cosy corner, illustrated in every advertising paper, is to be recommended for one side; this seat goes straight along the recess, and has an end that returns along the end of the recess, giving a corner in which to sit. As a rule these seats will take two people comfortably. Above the padded back is the same straight piece illustrated in the ‘summer corner,’ surmounted by the bracket-rail; but if people do not wish to go to the expense of an elaborately upholstered and spring seat, they can easily make a seat for themselves by having a wooden frame on four legs made to fit the recess; the top should be covered with sacking or webbing, along the front of the seat should be nailed a full flounce of corduroy velveteen lined with holland; a square cushion, made from wool and hair mixed, should be placed along the top of the sacking, and the back should be formed by hanging two square cushions on the wall so arranged that one dovetails with the other in the corner; these should be high enough to allow of using a finish of Giles’s bracket-rail for china, which should be put along the top of the cushions and keep them in their places, and a lamp can be hung over the seat, either from a hook placed in the ceiling itself or hanging out from the frieze-rail from one of the brass arms sold by Benson, on purpose for holding lamps, for about 10s. 6d. each, that would give light to anyone who sat to read by the fire in a room in which gas was banished, as I trust it may soon be banished from every sitting-room in the land, either in favour of the beautiful electric light, for the universal use of which I pine, or in favour of lamps, which may give trouble, but save that trouble over and over again in the manner in which things remain clean and good that would have become both spoiled and soiled had gas been used where they were. Another recess can be filled by using Mrs. Talbot Coke’s design, published in the ‘Queen,’ and which I have her permission for giving here, and which is not only very pretty but decidedly useful. It could be made by any carpenter first, as three simple shelves; the top and bottom shelves should be of equal depth, the centre one should be rather narrower, and the whole arrangement should not be above the line of the mantelshelf; along the edge of the shelves should be glued strips of Japanese leather paper, and the top shelf should be divided as in the sketch, the arches being either simple wooden arches cut out of thin wood, or else of the Moorish fretwork sold by Hindley & Barker; the bottom shelf should have three separate small curtains along it, the division between being strips of wood decorated with Japanese leather. Of course this arrangement should be enamelled to match the rest of the paint, and the silk which is used for the curtains should be a contrast; and great care must be taken to employ someone who does not make his woodwork with a heavy hand (as some cooks make pastry), for I once saw one of these recess arrangements carried out in such a way that the whole effect was dreadful, being entirely marred by the thick wood and heavy arches of which it was composed. Any china can be arranged therein, for the top makes an admirable resting-place for odds and ends and one’s favourite photographs or books. An armchair should be put by the side, and this will suggest at once a comfortable reading-nook for a winter’s afternoon without any more elaborate arrangement.

I am so often asked to advise people, on paper, how to arrange their furniture, and despite my strenuous refusals to contemplate such a waste of time, am so constantly importuned to do so, that I venture to pause here, and give one or two hints on the subject of the general arrangement of sitting-rooms; as although it is naturally quite impossible to tell positively where to place a chair I have never seen in a house I have never entered, it is possible, I trust, to give general hints which shall enable my readers to make their sitting-rooms rather more comfortable than most of them seem able to do at present.

For example, no matter how small a room is, an enormous amount of comfort and a certain idea of unlimited space is always given by placing a screen judiciously by the door; this prevents the whole of the room being on view at once, and gives an opportunity of placing a chair or two behind it, which we could not do were the door to open into the passage and leave a yawning gulf behind one’s back, or were it to open into the room and so leave an exposed place at once where no one could sit, because they would feel they were sitting in the passage; and, again, no chairs should be isolated or put out of humanity’s reach; if they are, they will surely be sought out at once by some shy caller or visitor, and we shall have to spend our time endeavouring to draw him or her into the circle. By this I do not mean that our chairs should be arranged as if we were expecting the assembling together of a prayer-meeting, but that they should be within reach both of ourselves, the fire in winter, the window in summer, and of the light always; then shall we be quite sure our guests are happy, or, if they are not, that it is their own fault and not ours.

There should be a place for each member of the household in any room, and attention to these details even causes the furniture to in some measure arrange itself and be so placed that it shows to the greatest advantage, and can at the same time be used by the owners in the best manner possible as well. If more lamps are required in a room than the two or three which are usually quite sufficient for the purposes of general lighting, those who require special lamps should be encouraged to look after them themselves, especially in the case of the daughters of the house, on whom, in most middle-class families, should devolve all the flower-tending and finer parts of housekeeping, of which, by that time, the house-mother will no doubt be weary, and will only be too glad to hand over to those who are full of energy as well as of the very newest ideas on the subject of how to arrange the flowers, on which so much of the appearance of the house depends.

I like the sofa placed out straight from the side of the fire, as in Fig. 7, or straight along in front of it, about seven or eight feet from the front of the fire; and in some rooms the piano, that most undecorative piece of furniture, can be put with one end straight against the wall in the recess, the other straight out into the room with the sofa against the back, or else a comfortable chair, as represented in Fig. 11, which will, I hope, give my readers a good idea how to manage a piano, which can be placed either out from the wall in the recess, across one corner of a room, or out in the room itself, and, indeed, in any way that will not necessitate its back against the wall, a position that is fatal to anything like music, for it is terrible to play with one’s back to one’s audience, or to sing straight into the wall, which throws one’s voice straight back at one all the time one is singing. As will be seen from the sketch, the baize at the back of the piano is first covered with a good Japanese leather paper, and then soft silk is carelessly draped over it, finishing with a long piece at one side; the top of the piano is first covered with the soft silk, which is fastened by tiny tacks inside the lid to keep it in its place, and then by a piece of Japanese embroidery; at one end is a tall palm-stand from Liberty with a big brass pot holding a palm; at the back, where there is no distinct drapery, stands a small screen, and at the other end is a Cairene inlaid stool holding a jar of grasses; but I should prefer myself a much taller arrangement, as the end of the piano is not at all a pretty object. The silk which is found in the front of most pianos should be replaced by Japanese leather paper. If draping is objected to—and it should never be attempted by anyone who cannot pay some artist in drapery to manage it for them, unless, of course, their own fingers are clever at it—a very good substitute is formed by using one of Shoolbred’s piano-rods, from which can be hung a simple full curtain of some good and beautiful brocade, such as is their Nismes brocade. The top should always be arranged as shown in the sketch, for though these things may deaden the sound,

and a good musician would, no doubt, rage about them, they can be removed in three seconds to a side table should music be the order of the day, and could be replaced at once without giving anyone any undue amount of trouble. I have seen a writing-table in a very small room placed against the piano, the back of which, having been, first covered with brocade, served as a species of ‘hold-all’ for all that is usually found on a writing-table; but I cannot seriously recommend this, as it is certainly incongruous to find cards of invitation, balls of string, date-cases and paper-knives, and general dÉbris, fastened about a piano, which must, I am sure, resent tremendously this extraordinary manner of embellishing it. I have never seen a piano arranged in a better manner than the one illustrated here by the kind permission of my successor at my dear Shortlands house, in whose hands the traditions of the house are well kept up, and who has filled my shoes there much better than I filled them myself; one of her improvements being the drapery over the conservatory door, which I have illustrated here, so many people having doors like that one and being quite unable to manage them properly.

The door is composed, as are all similar doors, of glass at the top and two small panels in the wooden frame below; these are filled in with Japanese leather paper, a brass handle and one finger-plate are added (only one finger-plate should ever be put on a door, and that should be put above the door-handle); and on the top of the glass is placed one of the pretty bead blinds; this is a graduated one, and is just indicated in the sketch. On the left-hand side, nearest the fire, hangs a straight full piece of drapery, edged all round with ball fringe, while on the other side is draped a curtain with a drawing string, which lets down in a moment to hide the door entirely at night. A further idea of how this room is now arranged is given by the tall palm-stand, and the end of a deep, low, beautiful sofa from Liberty, which I never see without breaking the tenth commandment. The sides and back are quite straight, the seat is very broad and is heaped with the frilled pillows, which are as popular as they are useful and pretty; the sofa is enamelled white, and is covered with a beautiful yellow brocade, the curtains beyond, by the window, being of a Morris cretonne, which resembles both in colour and design the brown and yellow velveteen from Graham & Biddle mentioned before. This design makes admirable portiÈres,

and is always a pleasure to look at. The tambourine is hung on the dado, which is of a very good yellow and white matting and is headed with bamboo, and despite the favour into which friezes have grown of late years, a favour they quite deserve I must say, I still cling to the dado in the dining-and drawing-rooms; in the former they give solidity to the wall, which they always keep tidy; in the latter they serve admirably as places on which to hang our favourite nicknacks and those small sketches and pictures which we prize, and which would almost be lost to sight were we to hang them above the height of the dado-rail, where we could not have them near us; so I strongly advise a dado whenever we can have one in the drawing-room, and I have been lately confirmed in my opinion by seeing two newly decorated rooms where the dado was useless as far as regarded the hanging of pet possessions, but it was so decorative that I am forced to pause here for a moment and give a description of them both.

In room No. 1 the wall-paper was my favourite yellow and white from Mr. Smee; all the paint was a deep ivory, and the dado-rail was ivory too; for about a yard below the rail the wall was coloured primrose, and over this was hung a full soft curtain of yellow silk closely plaited on tiny rings, which again were hung on nails below the rail, which curved out over them and hid them completely; this curtain could be taken down and shaken and replaced every week if desired, while, of course, during absence from town the silk would be folded up and put away. The loose curtain looks charming round the room, which is a very tiny one, and has been admirably arranged by Mr. Smee with a fitted seat at one side of the wall, with side curtains to give an idea of privacy, and above that is a long bookcase; the curtains are of the beautiful larkspur cretonne which has yellow and blue in it; the carpet is a deep red, to give more colour, as the room is to be used for day, and therefore requires to be made to look warmer than could be done were only blue and yellow used; and the furniture is all ivory, and upholstered in different brocades; albeit these are also covered with loose cretonne covers in the larkspur cretonne, which is 2s. 10d. a yard, but really deserves to cost as much, it is so pretty, although I do own it is rather expensive for a mere cretonne.

The other room in which I saw the curtain dado was much more sombre in design and colouring; and I do not for one moment recommend such a distressingly dark arrangement, although I do most heartily commend the clever designer of this original room. The dado was not the straight curtain which goes all round the room, which I have been writing about, but it started from the window at one end five feet above the floor; this continued for halfway along the wall, where it suddenly lowered to within three feet of the floor, leaving a piece of wall about three feet across and two deep; after running along for three feet at this lowered angle, it rose again and continued along the wall to the door. Just on the other side of the door the curtain began at three feet from the wainscoting, and continued for about five feet, when it rose once more, and continued at the first altitude for the rest of the wall, which ended in a corner; the curtain lowered from that to the fireplace, which, with its overmantel, filled one square, the dado beginning once more at the five-foot altitude after the fireplace was passed. The curtain was moss-green serge, and was hung from a pole painted moss-green, with brass rings, which were en Évidence; and above the curtain the wall was covered with a very good Japanese leather paper; the squares made by the dropping of the curtain being filled in one place by a choice picture, in another by an admirably designed bracket for books and china, and in another by a square beaten brass shield holding an elaborate and beautiful clustered candelabra; and had the drapery been of some bright colour, or some really decorative brocade, the house would have been as charming as it was original, but, arranged with the dark Japanese paper and the much darker drapery, the whole effect was so depressing, that I felt, were I obliged to remain in that house, I should have committed suicide, for my spirits would never have borne up under it. But it was a dark day, as the owner pointed out, when I told him, at his request, what I thought of it all. But I maintain that as most of our English days, and more especially our London days, are extremely dark, we are bound to try and make our rooms so beautiful that they, at least, shall not in any way add to the depression that is inseparable from sage-green walls and darkness generally. We cannot have too much cheerfulness I maintain; it is absolutely impossible to be too happy and too lively; and as our climate does not help us to be either the one or the other, we must endeavour to simulate as much sunshine as we can, by making our rooms cheerful and as sunny-looking as we have the power to do. I never go into my own rooms, or the many rooms I have helped to decorate, without feeling that, whatever else may be their faults, they certainly cannot be called gloomy. They are all bright and cheerful; and I defy anyone to be miserable long, unless, of course, some real misfortune has occurred, in one of my rooms in the green serge abode. A misfitting dress would be as dreadful a sorrow as a broken arm, a disappointment about an entertainment as serious as an illness or loss of money! Flowers again should never be forgotten, or allowed to become dead and shabby; and, above all, each room we occupy should be scrupulously clean, and without being aggressively neat should be absolutely tidy. Directly a thing becomes dirty or untidy it should be cleaned or replaced by something else. We should never overlook the soiling of the paint, a crushed antimacassar, a dirty ceiling, and, above all, we should remember that no amount of artistic knowledge and careful decoration can make up for grimy tablecloths and crooked vases, heaped-up papers and crushed chairbacks and damaged cretonnes. A room must not only be made nice, it must be kept so; and if we cannot afford good servants, who will respect our belongings, we must do the finer parts of the housework ourselves. It is no disgrace to wash fine china, and turn and fold our tablecloths and draperies; it is disgraceful to have dirty ornaments, and to be untidy and careless about our rooms.

Indeed, if any of us really want our rooms to look nice we should, no matter how good are our servants, go carefully over them ourselves the moment the housemaid’s work is done, and see that all is as we like it. Servants do not place furniture, they ram it into its place. The tablecloths are usually put on wrong side out, and, somehow or other, all seems to require the lady’s touch, which cannot be explained, but is certainly observable in any house where the mistress is untidy, and so naturally excuses untidiness in those around her.

I maintain that tidiness is quite a gift, and that she who is possessed of that admirable quality makes things go twice as far as does she who never attempts to put a thing straight, who overlooks dust and dirt, and without knowing precisely how it is managed, gets her house into endless muddle and never allows it to look nice, albeit she spends three times as much over it as does she who is gifted with tidiness and a ‘straight eye.’ Therefore, if a house is to be properly kept, the moment a handle comes off a door, replace it; the instant a thing looks in the least degree dirty, have it washed or cleaned; let any carpet be mended before it goes into a hole; have black cleaned off any ceiling the moment it comes on it; and, above all, have the china clean and straight, and never overlook a rent or a dirty mark. If a house is kept nice the expenses are gradual; if all is neglected, the day of reckoning, which must come inevitably, will be such a heavy one that it will cost more than can be afforded by anyone who is not a millionaire; and it must come, for even if the house is our own, we must leave it some time, and our successor will not revere our memory, or remember us even with kindness, when he comes after us and repairs our ravages, which need have been unimportant had we punctually spent the yearly sum for repairs, &c., which should always be set aside by every careful householder.

Every room in every house should be re-painted and papered at least every seventh year. Outside painting should be done every third year. The ceilings should be cleansed the moment they begin to look dirty; and we should never possess curtains or carpets which we cannot afford to replace somehow, or that will not readily wash and darn, and shake when they begin to show signs of having been used.

A pretty house in good order will always let, should we desire to move; while a house in bad repair, and dirty, will never find a tenant, even if the landlord is a model one, and is willing to do all he can in the matter of new decorations, for somehow the squalor and grime that greet the eye first on entering never seem forgotten, and the house is passed over again and again, because it is impossible to believe a house in such a state can ever be made either healthy or beautiful.

Before passing away from the three ordinary sitting-rooms in a house I should like just to speak of some of the new styles of decoration which have come to the fore lately, and which, I am glad to say, are all as cheerful as can be; not that the arrangements I have advocated have been relegated to that mysterious limbo dedicated to the fashions of last week. I have at last, I am delighted to be able to tell my readers, persuaded one or two of the more enterprising tradesmen to recognise the fact that a thing which was good and satisfactory last week is just as good and satisfactory this, and all the schemes of decoration I gave before are still to be had. But tastes change, and it is always well to be prepared with some new ideas, for rooms are all different, and what suits one room will not suit another.

I still like the Japanese plain paper, red and gold leather dado, and red paint better than anything else for a dining-room, just as I cling to my blue morning-room; but as it would not do for us all to have this same decoration, I often advise an admirable tapestry paper, sold by Pither at 4s. 6d. a piece. This can either have ‘holly-green’ or ‘imperial red’ paint, and a dado of Japanese leather paper, carefully chosen to harmonise with the paper, and which should have dull red and green and gold in its design, in very dark and unobtrusive shades. The ceiling paper should be pale yellow and white, the cornice cream. The doors should be panelled with the Japanese paper, and the curtains should either be of Colbourne’s Gobelin tapestry, at 6s. 11d. a yard, wide width, or else of self-coloured velveteen or serge, the colour of the paint (whichever is chosen), and the carpet should be an Oriental one if possible, with a dark red matting surround, or else of Wallace’s dark red ‘anemone,’ either in pile, Brussels, or Kidderminster, according to the price one wishes to give. This style of decoration would suit almost any furniture, though I should prefer the chairs to be covered with the Gobelin tapestry, which wears admirably, and which should always be used to re-cover old or shabby chairs, instead of a cheap leather. This covering could be done at home by an upholsteress if necessary; but I should advise the chairs being taken in hand by someone who can re-make the stuffing, if the expense can be afforded; if it cannot, the leather should be left as it is, all unevennesses and excrescences should be made even by judicious use of cotton-wool on the leather, then a tight cover of holland should be first put on, finally the cover of Gobelin tapestry, which should not be buttoned down, but should be stretched over and secured in its place with a gimp. Each chair would cost about 4s. or 5s., certainly not more.

Where the old-furniture mania exists, an artistic dining-room can be made by using all nut-brown paint, Essex & Co.’s ‘Kenesaw’ design, stamped on real brown paper, a gold and brown leather dado, all yellow serge or velveteen curtains, and a golden-brown square carpet; and great care should be taken in both rooms to have the proper tablecloths, which Burnett makes from a design I gave him, and which have been largely used (and recommended by the several imitators of mine which have sprung up in divers papers since I first began my own notion of giving advice on the matter of house decoration and arrangement through the columns of a newspaper, now some six long years ago), and which are far better and more artistic than any others I have ever seen. The cloth is plain serge or felt, with a contrasting border united to the cloth itself by a gimp in which both colours are mingled, and finished off with a ball fringe. These cloths cost about 25s. for an ordinary table, and, as they will clean and dye, would last some years if properly looked after.

I have already spoken about the morning-room decoration, and therefore I will only add a few words on the subject of the drawing-room, where the yellow-and-white scheme I so often recommend cannot be improved upon by those who can afford a reasonably expensive scheme of decoration. Of course the very greatest care must be taken to avoid anything like the gold-and-white paper of our ancestors, but this usually was accompanied by grained maple paint, which gave the last touch of horror to the scene, and therefore could never resemble the delicate ivory paint which Aspinall has made so easy for us; and I still admire Mr. Smee’s beautiful yellow-and-white paper at 11s. a piece better than anything else, and with this I advise a dado of Collinson & Lock’s ‘47’ cretonne. This should be secured with a screwed-on dado-rail, as then the cretonne could be removed to be washed; all the chairs should be put into frilled cretonne covers of the same cretonne, made like those in Fig. 13; the curtains should be of Pither’s printed linen at 1s. a yard, edged with ball

fringe at 6d. a yard, and the carpet should be dark blue pile, with a pattern that resembles tiny daisies powdered all over the surface in a paler shade of blue.

Great exception has been taken to Pither’s printed linen because it fades. So it does; but then it is very cheap, it lasts two years in a sunny window, four in one that is not sunny, and, finally, dyes beautifully, fringe and all, coming back from the immortal Pullar as good as on the day it was first bought. I don’t think one can complain very much about a material which behaves like that, can one? But, of course, the printed linen as curtains can be replaced by silk, damask, or by ‘47’ cretonne itself, should the first-named material be objected to.

No colour lights up so well as yellow—I am quite sure of that; and another decoration could be made from the yellow ‘Othmar’ paper sold by Essex, all cream paint, and a frieze of chrysanthemums, either painted by hand, or else of the excellent printed design sold by Haines at 3s. 6d. the yard. With this the carpet should be red, and the curtains should either be of a brocade which introduces the shades in the flowers, or else of a cretonne: all would depend on how much money there was to spend; but whether cretonne or brocade is used, it must match the frieze in some measure. Though great cornices and vast pier-glasses over mantel-pieces are entirely out of date, and will never, I trust, return into fashion, there are still some unfortunates who labour under these possessions, and who dare not rid themselves of them, much as they would like to do so, and who may be glad to learn how these horrors may in some measure be mitigated. All cornices become less repulsive directly they are Aspinalled ivory. I cannot tell why, but this seems to metamorphose them at once, and makes them quite ornamental, while the frame of the glass can be treated in the same manner, unless the frames are quite flat, in which case they should be covered with brocade, in the same manner in which the fashionable frames for photographs are now managed. In any case, all the heavy flourishes and ‘ornaments’ should be removed, and the glass made in every way as plain and unobtrusive as possible. Draping with muslin, or even with Liberty silk, is never successful, and only makes the object draped like one of the lodging-house possessions, carefully guarded in a similar manner by the careful landlady from the encroachments of the flies, and is therefore much to be avoided.

Never, no matter what the time of year, put it out of your power to have a fire, should you so desire it. I still cling to the Japanese umbrella, and have never found a substitute for it which is so absolutely satisfactory. If its stick is properly cut it hides the wood and coal and grate entirely, and gives a bright spot of colour, and can be removed at once. A curtain hung straight down from a slight rod just under the top of the grate itself looks very neat, as does a series of rings to hold flower-pots, just brought out by Hamilton, of the Quentin Matsys Forge, York Street, Westminster. This holds twelve pots of flowers, and can be lifted out in a moment altogether should a fire be required, and would always look well put down in a corner of the room. One of the Guild brocade screens with miniatures answers well too, and Giles has invented from my description a fireplace cabinet, which, put under the wooden mantel-piece—which is de rigueur in an artistic house—continues the mantel and overmantel decorations, and makes the whole appear like a good cabinet for books, china, and flowers. This can also be removed in a few minutes, and either hung on the wall or placed in a corner of the room.

The perfect cÂche-feu has yet to be invented, but until some clever genius has done this, either of the above ideas answers quite well; but I do solemnly warn my readers against fashionable trellis-work with paper ivy and grapes wandering over it, fans outstretched in plush with senseless photographs let in—as if photographs could be in place on the hearth!—and all the thousand and one freaks of fashion that are brought out by those who ought to know better, and who have filled many houses to overflowing with terrible plush frames, soiled satin bags, useless odds and ends, and ghastly painted tables, brackets, and stands, which are costly to begin with, and so we do not like to dispose of them too hastily, and which should never be seen in the houses of those who really want to have an artistic and pretty home; with which solemn warning we will pass on to sterner subjects, and will consider in another chapter how to treat the more ‘manly’ portion of the house, where work or pleasure may be gone in for.