I think that I am more often consulted about how to manage servants, and how to apportion an income, than on any other detail of domestic management, and therefore I am of opinion that a few more words on these subjects may not be out of place here, although, as I have repeatedly stated elsewhere, no real help can be given by a stranger on either matter, and that only a species of general rule can be laid down, either about the management of the maids or how to set apart and divide the income we may have to spend. To begin with the income: I have had two scales drawn up by an accountant, and now present them here for what they are worth. The first is the very smallest income that any two people should marry upon, in my opinion; although I know many folks, especially among the ranks of the clerics, who ought to know much better, who continually do so, and as continually have numerous families, for which they cannot provide in the least, and for which they beg in the most shameless manner, and for whom I have neither sympathy nor patience. As a rule these unfortunates live in the country and have big gardens and houses found them rent free, but I have nothing to say to them here, and, as I cannot conceive how ladies and gentlemen can bring up, clothe, and feed their children, and manage their household respectably on less than 800l. a year, I have no ideas on the subject, and therefore cannot write on what I know nothing about.

Let us therefore take the ordinary young lawyer or young man who is ‘something in the City,’ that unknown City, the occupations of which are so mysterious in my eyes, and let us suppose he has 500l. to spend every year, increasing, let us hope, should he indulge in the luxury of a family; a luxury he has no more right to go in for on a tiny income than he would have to set up a carriage and pair, without being able to pay all the concomitant expenses; and this is how he should parcel out his expenditure:

Leaving: the magnificent sum of 24l. 10s. to cover doctors’ bills and the thousand and one incidental expenses which are always cropping up, to say nothing of amusement. One could hardly rise to the upper boxes on 500l. a year if one must live in town and have appearances to keep up as well.

It is better at first, if the income is very small, to live in the suburbs. There are not so many temptations to spend money, and there would not be much going out. In London of course, the going out is endless; there must be cabs, new gloves, flowers, and the hundred and one extras that carry off one’s money, and two servants are a sine qu non. If the suburbs are selected, cabs and evening gloves, &c., need not be legislated for; one servant could do the work; and the house-rent and taxes would come to 50l. instead of 100l.; but there would be the husband’s season-ticket to consider, and furthermore the intense dulness that is the wife’s portion, for suburban residents are not hospitable; they are, most of them, not very well off, for of course all rich people fly to London; they are mutually suspicious of each other’s bona fides, and are, moreover, engrossed as a rule in their domestic duties, and when the husband returns from town he is not only tired with his work, but with the added railway journey; he usually hankers after his garden in the summer and his arm-chair by the fire in the winter, and does not care to go out, more especially as he judges from his own feelings in the matter, and is quite sure his host wishes him at home in bed quite as much as he wishes himself there.

But, again, here I must show how impossible it is for another person to really advise a friend on this subject of division of income satisfactorily. There are plenty of suburban residents who are absolutely satisfied with their fate, and are equal to the misfortune of a small income. In that case I have told them precisely how they can manage best on the sum of 500l. a year. I can assure them they will have to be most economical and excellent managers to do that; and they can furthermore understand that it costs about 50l. a year to add a child to the establishment, and that 45l. a year is supposed to keep and pay a servant. These two details will be of assistance, maybe, when the income increases and the owners thereof contemplate a little launching out.

An income of 1,000l. a year should be apportioned as follows:

And this larger balance would be drawn, upon for the extra expenses, such as entertaining and amusements, charities, and the thousand and one pleasant ways of spending money that are open to the possessor of the larger income, and are rigorously out of the reach of the owner of 500l. a year.

Then, too, there are all sorts and conditions of things to consider before laying down a law on the subject of apportioning the income; such for example as the consideration if the income dies with the husband, or if it may come from capital safely invested. In the former case the insurance ought to be very largely increased, as that is the only absolutely safe manner of saving one’s money. As a rule it costs about 27l. a year to insure the receipt of 1,000l. at death if the insurer is a young man, and I ask all intending bridegrooms to consider what this would mean if this be all the provision they can make for their brides, supposing they were to die and leave them with two or three little children and no other means. They could not live on 40l. a year, which is about all they would receive, and I therefore do trust all young men will seriously consider the matter before rushing into matrimony. At present a great many folk are like the ostrich, they bury their heads in the sands of present content and never consider the evil days that are before them. If they remain two, no one can blame them, but I do blame unendingly the selfish creatures who burden this overcrowded world with more genteel paupers. If people on small incomes insist on doing this, let them have the courage to bring up their daughters as upper servants and their boys to good honest trades; it is the genteel pauper, the girl who can paint a little, teach a little, and embroider a little, and the boy who, come what may, must wear a black coat or its equivalent in light tweeds, who have no right to be made to exist, and for whom the world has absolutely nothing to offer save a certain amount of snubs and a very large quantity of the unappetising dish known as the cold shoulder.

Therefore, if the income dies with the husband and there are children, a certain amount of money must be put aside annually for insurance; it ought to be enough to bring in 100l. a year to insure the wife from starvation when she is too old, too worn with all she has had to do to attempt to keep herself; and there should also be no false pride about the manner in which the children are educated; they should go to Board schools, where the teaching is excellent and far better than one can procure at ordinary small schools, which may be much more ‘genteel’ but will not be half as useful; for the Board schools are far and away better than anything that could be obtained from the wretchedly underpaid teachers who would be the girls’ portion. The necessary companionship with wretchedly poor and dirty children, which is the great drawback to a Board school education, could be mitigated if all those who are really worthy of the Board school education were to share it; and surely a good mother could tell her boys exactly what to avoid, and the lads could come straight home and simply be taught in the school. The girls would not need so much looking after, for they are far more conservative naturally than boys: boys will play with and talk to anyone; a girl very soon discriminates for herself, and will not play with another if she suspects her to be in the very smallest degree below her in the social scale.

It will be observed that I do not in the least take a sentimental view of life, for I feel that when one contemplates the terrible army of martyrs, the girls who have been ‘genteelly’ brought up and are ‘genteelly’ starving or living on their most unwilling and hard-working relations, one cannot say too much or write too much on this subject, and I cannot also but think that when there is the cry in the land that there undoubtedly is for more servants, more good and trustworthy lassies to help us with our domestic duties, and that when ladies in Australia are so pressed by their troubles and by the fact that they cannot get ‘help’ for love or money that they are actually driven to write to their papers to suggest that men may marry more wives than one, because no one but a wife is found to do house work, and that one wife is not sufficient for the purpose, it is quite time that the surplus maidens should consider whether it is quite as impossible to become a servant as it appears to be now. As decorators, governesses, and spoilers of canvas, they are undoubtedly not wanted, but they are required badly for simple domestic work, which is, none of it, half as hard as unlimited tennis, dancing all night, or rowing: not any of it half as unpleasant as is living on the begrudged charity of some relation, who wants all his hard-earned savings for his own children, or as degrading as is marrying the first man who asks them, and who can give them some sort of a home, for whom they have not the smallest respect—the very smallest amount of affection.

Now, of course there are disagreeable details about house work, and scrubbing cannot be pleasant, but surely the ‘scrubber’ could come in daily and do up the worst of the ‘chores,’ as the Yankees say; and what is the rest? Waiting at table, not half as unpleasant as selling at fancy fairs; opening and answering the door, not half as hateful as bringing one’s wretched little painted match-boxes and tambourines to an overstocked guild, or a most unsympathising and equally overstocked shopman, who is often far more impertinent than any caller ever could be to the lowest maid in the establishment; and I personally should prefer to make beds, wash china, dust rooms, and clean silver to hanging about listlessly in a shabby frock, knowing quite well that I could never have another unless some reluctant relation gave me one she would much rather have given to her own children; and I cannot recollect any duties which would be expected from the girls which I have not enumerated above, or that they could not honestly undertake in a sheltered home and under proper matronly care.

And if all servants were ladies—and I see no reason why every servant should not be a lady if she tries—think how much more our houses would be our own than they are at present! Even with the best of maids there are always places in it and corners where we feel we cannot go exactly when and where we like, and where, try as we will, we cannot be absolutely sure that thorough cleanliness prevails and where, moreover, we cannot be ‘decorative’ because all our efforts are frustrated by those who cannot shake off their early training and can no more refrain from smashing china and scraping paper off the walls than they can learn to trust us implicitly and in their turn allow us to trust them.

Remember, I personally never can nor will join in the fearful outcry against the maids which I hear on all sides of me. I have related my own experiences in Vol. I. of this book, ‘From Kitchen to Garret’ and I have not one word to add or take from what I have said there. I still maintain, if you take your servants young and train them yourself, and if you don’t expect perfection and show that you mean to be obeyed, you will have no trouble; but you will never have perfect service until you can have ladies in your house, whose ladyhood will ensure the perfect trustworthiness, the honesty, the cleanliness that no cottage-bred girl can ever give, because she can never be taught to really comprehend the necessity of all these particulars.

Mrs. Crawshay’s scheme of lady helps has, I believe, quite collapsed; at all events, one hears nothing about it now; but I see no reason why an earnest effort should not be made to try sending our superfluous girls to Australia as lady helps, and then, if that succeeds, trying them in England, where there seems to me to be a real and crying want of good domestic servants. I am only judging from other people’s woes; for, although I dare say I have mine before me, I have not experienced them yet, and have always been able to find what I wanted without any undue exertion on my part. Of course the house would have to be reorganised to some extent. The bedrooms would have to be as fresh and pretty as one could make them; and, above all, we must reform our kitchens, which are at present the most unhealthy, disagreeable, and odious rooms in the whole house, as they are undoubtedly the ugliest, and where, in ordinary households, the unfortunate maids have winter and summer to sit while the cooking is done, and in heat that I wonder allows them to live at all, and that must exasperate their tempers as much as it must try their constitutions.

Now let us consider the ideal house and the ideal kitchen, and I cannot see myself why both should not exist; let us build our washing-stands so that hot and cold water are able to be turned into the basin which can overtip and empty itself; smaller conveniences could be managed in the same manner, and all the housemaid would have to do would be to wipe out the basins daily, to sweep up the pieces with the ‘Ewbank’ carpet-sweeper, which makes no dust and picks up every morsel off the floor, to make the beds and dust, the very making of the beds being simplified by the chain and hair mattresses now general. All that has to be done is to turn the mattress daily, to spread the under blanket and sheet absolutely smoothly over it and tuck them in, to replace the bolster and pillows, and the over supply of blankets, &c., carefully straightened and tucked in. Is that harder than tennis, more menial, forsooth, than living on one’s relations, or husband-hunting genteelly under the greatest of all difficulties, the difficulty of looking nice and merry, and being good-tempered, on absolutely no means at all?

Now let us take the ideal kitchen, the kitchen as made and designed by Mr. G. Faulkner Armitage, of Stamford House, Altrincham, Cheshire, who has most kindly drawn for me the different pieces of furniture with which he decorates this charming room of his, and which, in the Manchester Exhibition, were stained green and decorated with brass hinges and locks, and see how we could adapt this to our present style of house, the house with the tiny kitchen, the smaller laundry, pantry, and scullery, and where there is not an atom of sitting-room apart from where all the work is going forward. In that case is it worth while to make a pretty room, and if we do can it be possibly kept so? I think it can, even with our present maids, whose taste for the beautiful is not largely developed; it most certainly could if we are given the maid of the future, the real lady-maid, who may come forward to the rescue of those unhappy beings who at present haunt the precincts of registry offices and spend small fortunes on advertisements which can have only the most barren results.

But before I go on to speak of the ideal kitchen and the cook of the future; who will hardly concern my readers, as she is not born at present, or if she be is certainly not ready for engagement, I should like to say a few words about the best manner to obtain servants, repeating continually that if we require good ones we must take them ourselves and train them ourselves. I am always met, when I state this fact, by the unanswerable argument, ‘I have neither time nor patience to teach my servants; I can pay good wages. I want to engage skilled labour.’ Skilled labour may be had for money, there is no doubt, but the person who engages her maids on these lines will never have good or affectionate servants. She will be waited on, dressed, cooked for admirably, no doubt, but she will obtain nothing beyond her mere bargain. For better wages, a more aristocratic place, her cook will leave her in the lurch, despite the fact that she may expect to be laid up or to have most particular and important visitors at the very period when the old maid departs and the new one comes in. Her nurse will extract her pound of flesh in the shape of holidays and outings, whether the baby is teething or not, or whether the children are all miserable with colds, or she herself long to lie down with a bad headache. The housemaid will go to her ‘church or chapel,’ to her promenade with her ever-changing young man, whether she has unexpected guests or not; and she will never know the extreme bliss and comfort of possessing friends in the kitchen, who give up their own holidays because they are sure their mistress is not fit to be left, who regard the children as if they were as much theirs as they are the mistress’s, and who finally think of her and hers, and her comfort, as she does herself. No mere hired help will do all this. You must have maidens whom you have carefully trained; you must take trouble—aye, and never-ending trouble—about them, unless you wish to join the ranks of those who are always abusing their maids and yet would not lift their fingers to assist themselves. And then, again, you must undoubtedly train yourself at the same time not to expect perfection.

Think of our own girls. Are they always to be trusted at tennis and at balls to maintain that serene and demure deportment which of course we always did, and which we naturally expect from our daughters, especially where young men are concerned?

Do they never flirt? Are they never found missing at critical moments, for example, when the carriage is at the door, and Paterfamilias is divided between anxiety for his horses and wrath at being kept waiting? Do foolish little notes never pass? Are flowers never given to the most detrimental youths of one’s acquaintance? And finally, do our own daughters always keep men at arm’s length? Are they always truthful, always obliging, always careful about their own rooms and the things which are committed to their charge?

I leave each mother to answer for her own daughters. I should not like to answer for all the girls I know, and I seem to remember episodes in my own past (was it mine, or did it belong to some one I once knew very well indeed, I wonder?) which I should rather not confide to my daughter, and indeed which I should not care to hold up to her as an example of what all girls should do, and which often make me very kind to the maids when I meet them promenading with the youth who calls for orders or the man whom I scarcely recognise out of his livery; and it is far better to know such things will happen, and to keep a kindly eye over these affairs, than to scold vigorously and declare that whatever happens no followers of any sort or kind shall enter your chaste abode. Neither should they until the engagement is a bonÂ-fide one, and one that you know is allowed and smiled upon by the girl’s parents. This you should ascertain for yourself—another reason for taking your maids young and from a family of whose antecedents you know something from your own observation. And I never think much harm can happen from these promenades if great stress is laid upon the fact that all must be at home after dark, and that in winter no one must stay out after 8.30. Then the house door should be locked and the key brought upstairs, either in town or country; there is always the front door to come to, and there is no reason why everyone should not come to that.

I am no advocate either of very hard and fast rules, and I maintain that it is very difficult to make, and still more difficult to keep, set regulations which circumstances may alter at any given moment. The only thing that must be insisted on is punctuality; without punctuality no household can go on, no establishment can be in the very least degree managed or carried on. The servants become slovenly; and it is impossible to get through the work, because no one knows when the meals are to be, or when the beds can be made. Therefore, the first rule, and indeed the only really important rule, is that which makes the meals regular, and the attendance thereat compulsory on all members of the family, children and temporary members, such as visitors, alike. After that, and when we have demonstrated how the work is to be done, we should stand aside and not interfere unless it is absolutely necessary; then a few quiet words are enough. Whatever you do, do not ‘nag;’ a servant that requires acrimonious scolding and continual ‘telling’ had better go, and another should be had at once.

The best way to find a servant (if your ‘place’ has a good name) is to inquire among the tradesmen. If a good servant is leaving her place, she always tells the butcher and baker; she never goes to a registry office. If she is leaving to better herself, her mistress can soon find her a place among her own friends; there would be no need for her to go elsewhere, and I do not think a really first-rate maid ever goes anywhere except to her mistress or to the tradespeople, who are all delighted to help her to find what she wants. An advertisement in the ‘Guardian’ or ‘Morning Post’ is another excellent means of obtaining a recommended servant, and I hope some day to find that the clergyman’s wife in each country parish will turn herself into an amateur registry office for all the young girls under her husband’s charge. She should teach them in the kitchen and nursery and train them in nice ways, and be always possessed of some maiden she can send out into a better place. Of course the Girls’ Friendly Society does something of the kind, but the good that it does is largely discounted by the evil ways of many of the ‘associates,’ who cannot help interfering egregiously and stupidly, and so bringing what ought to be an absolutely perfect organisation into contempt.

In London there is only one way of finding good servants, and that is by advertising in either of the papers I have suggested, saying ‘Apply by letter only,’ or else the advertiser will be inundated with a class of persons who apply on the chance of picking up something in the hall, or of getting their ‘expenses’ paid. No unknown person should ever be left alone for a moment in the hall, and on no consideration should anyone pay the ‘expenses,’ which often exist in the imagination only, and would be amply recouped were twopence handed over to the applicant to cover her omnibus fare; that even should be given with caution, for, absurd as it may sound, there are people who exist on applying for situations, which they accept and give excellent references to empty houses, and promise to come in at once, to commence the duties required immediately. The mistress, overjoyed at the idea of securing such a treasure, gladly pays the fare to some country station, to be refunded, of course, out of the first quarter’s salary, and goes off for the treasure’s character, when she promptly discovers she has been done, and that if such a house does exist at all it is either closed entirely or lived in by someone who has never heard of the treasure, who naturally is also not to be found at the home address, that was given so glibly and written down so very carefully.

A written character should also never be taken. The most exquisite handwriting, the best of all note-paper, duly embellished with a crest, address, and monogram complete, are no safeguard, for servants have been known to steal note-paper, and in these days of universal education a good hand is not to be trusted in the least. Even if the family with whom the servant lived has gone abroad—and this is the favourite reason always given when a written character is produced—there must be some relation or friend of the last employer still left in England who would not object to speak for a maid, who if worth anything at all must be known to someone outside the mere inner circle of the house itself; and this should be insisted on, especially in London, where an unknown servant is often the friend of the gentle burglar, and can do an immense amount of mischief. Indeed, when I thoroughly sift the numerous complaints which reach me about servants, I invariably find them caused by the fact that the maid has either been procured by a registry office or taken with only a written character in the most careless way, and with not half the precautions we should take before we engaged ourselves to call on a new comer to our especial district. We demand very strict credentials from anyone we admit to our house as a mere acquaintance; we let anyone into the house to live as a servant who can produce any scrap of writing, or procure any registry-office keeper to speak for her capabilities and character.

I am not speaking without due thought on the matter. Of course there are absolutely trustworthy registry offices, and some written characters may be genuine; but as a rule neither is to be trusted, and it is far better to do one’s household work oneself than to engage someone of whom we know no more than can be told us by an individual eager for the hiring fee, or from a bit of paper probably written on by the applicant herself.

I actually know a case where the mistress had to go into the neighbouring town to search for a cook who had been missing for twenty-four hours, and who found her locked up in the police court for drunkenness and riotous behaviour, and who discharging her on the spot was surprised to find the woman a few weeks after in a friend’s house. The registry-office people had answered for her character; although the first mistress had taken the trouble to place the report of the case in the local papers in the registrar’s hands, and the cook was in possession, needless to remark that she broke out again and is no doubt carrying on her practices in another confiding mistress’s house at this very moment.

A written character introduced a butler into a friend’s house, which he promptly burned to the ground in a fit of blind drunkenness, while another servant in another house was found in the act of carefully concealing a burglarious parent in a convenient cupboard; and indeed I do not think I am exaggerating when I say that every case of ‘bad servant’ that is brought under my notice originates in either of these two particulars, and that if due care, aye, and even what may appear as undue care, is taken about the manner in which a servant is engaged we shall soon hear far fewer complaints than we do at present; while by raising the tone of our maids and ensuring that only really good-charactered servants will be employed, we shall get a better class of girl to take to service, and we shall thin the ranks of unemployed dressmakers, telegraph clerks, and shop-girls, and shall bring them back to the sheltered, safe, untempted lives that are the portions of all those who are in good places, under the care of conscientious and thoughtful mistresses.

I think many writers—Mr. Besant, for example—have done great harm by the manner in which domestic service has been run down; and when I am called on to pity and weep over the case of the ‘sweated’ sempstress, the underpaid, unsettled governess, the miserable shop-girl, who cannot sit down and to whom all sorts of unpleasant internal miseries happen because of her hard work, I absolutely refuse to do so. There are plenty of good sheltered homes waiting for these girls, either here or in Australia, where they can be fed and well looked after, where they have every comfort, and where they are as absolutely safe as if they were in a palace, indeed, much safer, as maids in palaces are left much to their own devices and can get into as much mischief as they please, and there is therefore no reason for their unhappiness save and except the absurd one of wishing to be their own mistresses.

‘Freedom! I want my freedom. I would rather starve than be obliged to brush my hair neatly, to give up my drowned ostrich feather, my screams of unbridled laughter in the streets, the delicious joy of trailing up and down a gas-lighted road, and, in fact, of being my own mistress.’ That is the argument put into the mouth of the factory girl, only, of course, in not quite such plain language, and much applauded. Now, if so, don’t ask me to weep over the girl who talks like this, because I shall not do it. Freedom is about the worst thing in the world for a young girl. She requires a guiding hand, as, indeed, in my opinion, all women require one, all through their lives; and, after all, who is freer and less trammelled than a good servant in a good place? She has no anxieties, no troubles. Whatever happens, her wages are paid to the day, and her food is unfailing. Indeed, when troubles are disporting themselves in the drawing-room the maids seem to think ‘more food and oftener’ an excellent panacea. And she can have her holidays and her walks too whenever they can be managed; while for the large class of girl who becomes, or rather wants to become, a nursery governess, are there not endless other situations crying out for them, where as upper nurses, ladies’ maids, or good cooks they could be sure of occupation and of ending their days in comfort, having been able to save, which they could never have done on the 15l. a year of the ordinary nursery governess, who does all the mending and bathing, and, indeed, in some cases, much more of it than falls to the share of an upper nurse, who yet ranks below the governess, because she is a servant.

Now, I think that, if the young people who marry on about 300l. a year, and can only afford one maid, would try this plan of engaging some girl who cannot get a situation as nursery governess, and work together with her, they would be far more comfortable than they otherwise would be. All their things are new and pretty, the bedroom nice, the kitchen fresh and comfortable. A young bride on a small income must help with the cooking and bed-making. Surely this would be much more pleasantly carried out if the maid were in some measure a friend. I can assure you that old-fashioned servants I know have far better claims to be considered of a good family than dozens of girls who pitchfork themselves into the governess ranks, and consider themselves members of the aristocracy from that date.

To sum up, then, our case: if we require a comfortable house we must take our servants young and train them ourselves, or we must be very sure that the servant is what she claims to be, and that the character she is provided with is a good one; and, finally, we must endeavour to refill the ranks of upper and better-class servants from the overstocked ones of nursery governesses and unoccupied girls, whose parents have not provided for them, and who are unable to do a single thing by which they can in any measure help themselves.

There are stupid, careless, and even unkind mistresses in the world, but as a rule servants are considered and very kindly dealt with, and there can be no reason why a girl should refuse a sheltered home and work that is not as hard as many other kinds of labour, and that should be amusing and pleasant, in a small household, or even in a large one, where the housekeeper is a lady and the upper servants are distinct and separate; a nurse of course having her own rooms and being waited on far more than is the governess, who after all in the eyes of the domestics is neither one thing nor another, and has often enough to go without or see after her own comforts.

But until that halcyon day arrives we must, as I remarked just now, be very particular about the maid’s references, and we ought then, if possible, to make the acquaintance of her mother, and also, if we can manage it, of the clergyman who prepared her for confirmation. Of course this means trouble. Yes, it does, but not half as much trouble as is caused in the endless procession of new servants which passes through so many houses, leaving behind it traces of its progress in the shape of ruined brooms and brushes, burned-out saucepans, smashed crockery, and bladeless knives, all of which must be replaced as one goes out and another comes in, in a manner which almost ruins the unfortunate master and enrages the mistress proportionally.

And now to turn to the question of how to make the kitchen a little pleasanter than it is at present, especially in those houses where there is no servants’ hall. The best of cooks only succeeds in making her room look spotlessly clean and absolutely uninteresting; there is nothing pretty about it, and there is, as a rule, nothing save the ordinary hard Windsor chair on which to sit. This is quite right and what it should be; but besides that there could be an easier chair for the tired servant, who presumably can get quite as fatigued as we can, and for whom we could provide a low-backed chair with cushions (easily taken out and washed) once we have come to the conclusion that she is

likely to stay with us and that she is to be trusted not to make hay with it.

Our artist has made a sketch of ‘an ideal kitchen’ from Mr. Faulkner Armitage’s designs, which I hope will some day be the kitchen of the future. Here the dresser and mantel-piece arrangement provide for all the necessary pots and pans, while the furniture is as simple as it is pretty, and in consequence has an artistic effect which is really charming.

This furniture is stained malachite green or russet brown, whichever is preferred; with the green furniture, the tiled paper on the wall, which is much nicer to live with than mere colour-wash and is quite as clean, as it can be wiped over with a damp duster quite easily, should be red and white, and the paint a dark shade of red; with the brown, the paper should be blue and white, and the paint a good blue, and all along the wall on the floor should be a two-inch band of wood; this keeps the chairs away from the wall; but if the base of the wall becomes shabby a dado of oilcloth can always be added with a real dado rail; this keeps a wall tidy for years, and can always be washed, and finally painted over should the pattern crack or become in any measure worn and untidy. The ordinary boarded kitchen should be covered entirely with a good, well-seasoned linoleum, and a square of carpet lined with a thin American cloth should be given to the cook to place down on Sundays, or after the worst of the work is over; this gives a finished and furnished look to the room, and adds a great deal to the comfort of the maids. A stone floor should be painted with Hoskyn’s Ben Trovato red, and some rugs laid down at all times, as this is very bad to stand upon. I had linoleum laid all over the only stone floor I ever possessed, and that answered excellently; it was put down so that it adhered to the stone in some manner, and lasted a very great many years in excellent condition; but should anyone object to this I can also recommend a square of Treloar’s cocoa-nut matting, bound all round with a wide binding; but this should be rolled back for cooking, as grease adheres to it dreadfully and soon makes it shabby.

The kitchen windows are always rather a trouble to arrange, as generally they are basement windows, and muslin so soon gets out of order with the steam and general mess; but if the cook takes pride in her windows and likes to wash her curtains herself there is no reason why she should not have the same kind of white curtains that there are in the bedrooms; but let all come from the top of the window, half-blinds being dreadful, and looking worse, in my opinion, than no blinds at all. In windows on a level with the garden or street one must have obscured glass, either cathedral or ribbed glass. This, of course, is rather hard on the maids, who are not thus able to look out, but it cannot be helped: it is impossible for the kitchen to be so much in evidence as it otherwise would be, and no muslin is as effective a screen as the obscured glass is.

There should always be inside bars and shutters to any basement or ground-floor windows, and nothing should be kept downstairs which can possibly or in any way tempt the prowling burglar. All silver should be taken upstairs to the master’s room, and there should be a small dog loose downstairs; a dog frightens a thief dreadfully, as he is quite as much afraid of his bark as ever he is of his bite.

The basement in a London house is often a dreadful possession, as there are so many places where a thief could conceal himself in the daytime. No doors, then, should ever be left unbolted; and the master should, furthermore, make a practice of going round the very last thing at night to see that all is safe, or else there can be no security at all. Sometimes the servants may descend again and hold unholy revels; sometimes an open or unguarded door leaves access to the place; and an unexpected visit from a tramp may alarm us as much as would a professional visit from a burglar. We cannot impress this on our servants too often, and we impress it on them a thousand times more forcibly than we otherwise should when they see our nightly patrol, and know we have supplemented their bolts with a visit of inspection. Then the door at the top of the stairs should be bolted, barred, and locked, and the key removed. This should be given into the care of the butler if there be one, or into the safe keeping of the cook; and we may retire to rest feeling safe that even if the tramp comes, or the thief is in hiding below, he will remain in the lower regions, and can do nothing worse than have a feast in the larder or break a few panes of glass in his efforts to escape.

It will seem to my readers that one has to take endless trouble, to see perpetually about endless trifles, as long as we are householders, and have the management of a family on our hands. Yet once started on good lines, and matters are not so difficult as they appear; still, of course, no life of great responsibility—indeed, no life at all—can ever be entirely happy and entirely easy. Those who have least to do become bored and tired by mere inactivity; those who have most, wearing out instead of rusting out.

All comes to an end some day; there is no doubt about that. Strive as we may, death waits for us all, and our carefully trained household falls apart and drifts away; our furniture wears out, our carefully amassed hoards are turned over and parted among our successors; some one else takes our house, and obliterates with his personality the last traces of ours; and if we have refused to do our work, or let things slide, we shall speedily be forgotten; but if we have honestly done our work, what of it? Our maids carry on our good lessons elsewhere; our hoards make someone else happy, and the example we have set bears fruit a hundredfold, and someone is always happier, some household better for the work we have done. No matter, then, if we have fallen out of the ranks, tired out; we have done our work, and so can retire gracefully, being quite sure that none of our trouble is wasted, and that not one of us has toiled in vain.

And I maintain that we cannot ever take too much trouble about our homes, that we cannot have them too pretty or too well managed, and that, moreover, once they are started, they are easy to keep going, always supposing that we have regular ways and rules, that we do not muddle, and that we pass over nothing that requires attention, let it be a braid off a chair, or the misdemeanour or disobedience of a servant or child; the one should be mended, the other spoken to at once, then things will go on like clockwork, and we shall be fairly astonished to find how well things progress and how admirably they manage themselves.

Start well, start carefully, and then all one has to do is to steer straight; after all, steering is not very hard work, and that is all one has to do once the ship is fairly loaded and under way.