[1] The tricolour salad imitates the Italian banner—red, white, and green. Green salad, beetroot, and cream, or white of egg whipped to snow.

THE ENTRANCE-HALL.

The evil of side doors — Difficulties with cooks — Who is to answer the door? — Four classes of applicants — Arrangements for trades-people  — Visitors — Furniture of the hall — Warming the passages — Dirt and door-mats — The door-step — Charwomen.

Many of the most respectable old houses in London and other large cities have only one street door and no area gate; and this is a great advantage, for of all inventions for the demoralization of households, the side or servant's door is the one which does its work most surely. There is no oversight of it; and neither master nor mistress can tell what is going on below-stairs, or at the back of the house, when the shutters are closed and the family are at dinner, or in the drawing-room in the evening.

The side door had its origin in a pride, or false shame, which could not bear to see a vestige of the working of the machinery of the house, and in that tendency to separate the ornamental from the necessary part of the household economy which has worked so disastrously for us all, making us, first, unwilling to take a practical share in the management of our houses, so widening the class division between mistress and servant; and secondly, has thrown us into such a state of dependence upon our subordinates that the boldest of us dare not venture into the kitchen except at stated hours; and then, having received the programme of the proposed arrangements for the day from the cook, we are expected to go away and be no further hindrance to the eleven o'clock luncheon, which is one of the five solid meals daily required to sustain life in the hardships of service. Most ladies know what it is to wince under the sharp tongues of their cooks, who "don't like to have missuses come messing about in their kitchens," and their sarcasms upon "ladies who are not ladies," etc., etc., until many weak-minded victims retire before the enemy, and, giving up the vain pretence of ordering the dinner and examining the kitchen daily, send for the cook after breakfast, and get the interview over as soon as may be. It requires a very strong sense of duty to make one go where one is so palpably unwelcome, where one's most innocent looks are construed into a mean peeping and prying, and the least remonstrance is met by insolence.

I have, as a rule, been fortunate with my servants, and of late years I have successfully employed foreigners, who are generally more tractable than English servants.

I carried my point, when living in a villa near London, and locked the side door, retaining the key. I found great advantage in so doing on comparing notes with my neighbours, who told me their servants had threatened to leave directly there was a question of closing the side doors.

But this is only a recommendation where servants are kept. A responsible supervision of young servants is quite consistent with allowing them due liberty. This should always be granted them, as a dull imprisonment is misery to the young, and then they would not endeavour to take it in a clandestine manner, and surreptitious dealings with dishonest characters outside would be avoided.

To our present argument it matters little whether there be a side door or not, except that it affords greater facility to burglars; so we will treat of the principal door as the only one, because this is most frequently the case in town-houses where there is no area gate, and the use of that does not enter into our plan of proceeding at all.

One of the first difficulties that presents itself to the lady wishing to maintain a small household staff is the opening of the front door. The question meets us on the threshold, who is to answer the door? Who will be the slave of the ring?

A lady-help does not like to undertake this office, and to the mistress it appears still more unsuitable. But let us analyze the subject.

There are four classes of people who knock at our door: the family, tradespeople, visitors, and casuals. The first division of the difficulty may be easily disposed of. The master and mistress, for these titles must be strictly maintained, have each a latch key; the rest of the family may habitually use a particular knock agreed upon between them, and then the person who happens to be nearest to the door will open it.

Schoolboys and girls return at stated hours, and one is prepared for their appeal. For several years past my family has used four single knocks, which is a sign sufficiently unlike other knocks to be recognized immediately.

The postman's knock is well known, and in families where there is no great eagerness to get the letters, they fall naturally into the letter-box, which should be made deep, and the slit large enough to admit the Times newspaper easily.

In Italy it is usual to write the word fuori on a card, and stick it in the door when one is not at home; and in this case visiting-cards would also be left in the letter-box. We might adopt this method, or even the Temple fashion of saying when we are likely to be home again.

The tradesmen are the most difficult to arrange for, and here invention must be called into play. Tradespeople first call for orders, and then with supplies.

Suppose we had our doors fitted with a kind of turnstile door, something like the birdcage gates which used to be at the Zoological Gardens, only with the outside made of wood, closely fitting, so as to admit no draught. This, by a push, would allow the goods to be deposited within the door, on the table upon which the cage turns round. The opening should be of a size to admit a leg of mutton easily. The goods, once deposited, could not be removed from the outside, as the door only works one way.

Through this opening the lady-housekeeper might give her own orders without their interpretation by an underling, and without being exposed to the public gaze, as she would be if the front door were fully opened, while the leg-of-mutton aperture would be sufficient for both parties to see to whom they were speaking. In the case of a single door, instead of the very general folding doors, it would be necessary to have the cage made to fold back, and the table to let down with hinges, to allow of the door being opened back against the wall; the table might be lowered after midday. This arrangement would also dispose of most of the casuals—the beggars, pedlars, and others who haunt our door-steps—to the entire prevention of hall robberies.

And now we come to the last and most considerable division of the subject—our visitors; comprising relatives, friends, and strangers. If we lived in Arcadia, or in the Colonies, we should most likely be so glad to see our friends that we should joyfully run to welcome them. Or if we were very great people indeed, we should not mind doing as Queen Victoria does, going to receive them at the moment of their arrival. But as we are middling people, and neither shepherdesses nor queens, we dread being natural for fear of being thought poor.

For people are very much more afraid of being thought poor than of being poor, seeing how often they let themselves be dragged into poverty by idleness and extravagance. The best remedy I know for the fancied difficulty of opening our door to our visitors, is to have no friends but those whom we are glad to see, and to begin every new acquaintance by putting it at once on a footing of actual fact, letting people understand that we try to make the best of our means, and live within them. Then, if they will not take us upon our own terms, we need not regret that they do not wish for our friendship.

We shall find, in actual practice, that it makes very little difference to their opinion of us, if when we are at home we have the courage to tell them so ourselves; or if a dirty maid-servant, after an interval of waiting, receives their cards in the corner of her apron because her hands are black, and says she will go and see if "missis" is at home, or even if a neat parlour-maid fulfils the same office, and ushers visitors into a brown holland-encased room, leaving them to remark the time the lady of the house takes arranging her dress and her smiles previous to appearing.

In whatsoever way the ceremonial may be performed is of importance to none but ourselves. The visitor forgets it immediately, only retaining a general impression, cheery or dismal, as the case may seem; and if we are nice people and our visitors nice people, according to our respective ideas on that subject, we shall cultivate each other's acquaintance all the same.

It is immensely hard work to make five hundred a year look like a thousand. The effort to do so is seen through in an instant by a keen-sighted observer, and then it is ten chances to one if you get credit for what you really possess. It is never worth while to pinch and pare our everyday life for the sake of a few occasions of display.

Let us now go on to consider the best fittings and furniture for the entrance-hall.

Encaustic tiles make very good flooring for a hall, and are very easily cleansed with a mop or a damp cloth wrapped round a broom. A good thick door-mat is a great temptation to people to rub their boots well. This is really better than one of those delightful indoor scrapers all set round with brushes, which are seldom used after the first few weeks of their introduction. Mine is as good as new, and as highly polished, and I have had it for years. A couple of good door-mats are much more useful.

It is necessary to have a stand with a large drip-dish in a corner of the hall, to hang up cloaks and mackintoshes, and hat-pegs of course, but particularly a good-sized cupboard for boots, shoes, and goloshes, so that the family may change them in the hall on entrance. A carved bahut, or Italian linen coffer, is very useful in a hall for children to keep their school and garden hats and bonnets in, the lid serving for a bench; but many halls, which are often merely narrow passages, would be inconveniently crowded by one of these rather ponderous pieces of furniture; besides which, they are costly.

A deep bowl of Oriental china is as nice as anything for a card-dish, and the hall is a more appropriate place for it than the drawing-room.

Where it is thought necessary to warm the house, hot-water pipes laid from the kitchen are as cheap as anything. If the pipes are heated by a separate gas-stove in the hall, they will supply hot water to the bed-rooms also; but it is not a healthy practice to heat the passages of a house: it causes the cold to be so much more felt on going out. Where the influence of the stove is felt in the bed-rooms it often prevents sleep.

In many houses which are kept too close and warm the families are subject to constant headache, and in others to a perpetual succession of colds; according to their temperament requiring more oxygen, or their susceptibility to the sudden change from the heated to the outdoor air.

Unpolished oak is the most usual and the best material for hall furniture; it is cleaned by rubbing with a little oil, which shows the grain and enriches its colour.

One rule which in practice saves more dirt in the house than any other, is that no member of the family be allowed to go upstairs in walking-boots. I have carried out this law for some years, after having long been troubled by my schoolboys rushing up and down stairs with their dirty boots on; and the saving to my stair carpet is very considerable. Boys and girls do not run up and down so often, if compelled to exercise a little attention beforehand.

But little boot blacking or brushing need be done in the house. Gentlemen can easily have their boots cleaned out of doors, and ladies, by the use of goloshes, may reduce this work for themselves to a minimum, many kinds of boots being much better cleaned when sponged over lightly than when they are brushed or blacked. Every member of the family may not unreasonably be expected to take care of his or her own boots.

The door-step, or flight of steps, which is such an affliction to householders and such a joy to servants, may be kept sufficiently clean by being washed by the charwoman who comes one morning a week to do the scrubbing and scouring; which would be too menial—in other words, too public and too laborious—for any lady-help to endure.

Hearthstoning the step seems a very useless practice; the grey stone itself is a nicer colour, and only requires a mop or a broom to keep it free from dirt, according to the weather. Much white dust is brought into the house by the daily use of hearthstone, and precious time is wasted in the operation.

It may be well to understand, at the outset of our description of the work of a house, what parts of it cannot usefully or practicably be undertaken by women who have been gently nurtured, before discussing the portions which their knowledge and skill are best calculated to perform. For although we may by forethought reduce within a small compass the toilsome part of the duties, there will always remain some functions which it would uselessly tax a lady's valuable time and strength to perform. For, after all, the office of the mistress is to raise housekeeping to the level of the fine arts, "where the head, the hand, and the heart work together."

Incidental mention has already been made of the charwoman; she may be employed for the harder work in the following manner:—

The charwoman should not have her meals in the house, but she should be paid by the piece for certain work done; say, door-step, 1d. or 2d., according to size and number of steps; kitchen floor, 4d.; passages, according to size and requirements. Many charwomen would gladly undertake work on this plan, and many poor women or strong girls would rejoice to do a morning's work and get home early to their family with what would pay for their dinner.

It is impossible to lay down fixed prices for piece-work, as this must necessarily vary with the size of houses and the habits of the owners.

The charwoman can shake the heavy door-mats, and sweep out the kitchen flue, if the species of stove used require sweeping—and most of them do. She may also break the large lumps of coal into knobs of the size necessary for the patent ranges needing fuel of a certain size, and she might place the week's supply of coal in the fuel-box.

It would be better in many cases to employ for this hard work a strong boy with a Saturday half-holiday. He could do it all quite as well as a woman, and much more easily; but as we find we shall be taxed for a man-servant if we employ any arms but a woman's, we must make the best use we can of the worse means, consoling ourselves with the idea that the woman will use the money paid better than the boy might do.

BREAKFAST.

Lighting gas-fire — Difficulty of rousing servants — Family breakfast  — Cooking omelet — Hours of work and enjoyment — Duties of mothers and householders — What is included in six hours' daily work — Clearing away the breakfast — Bowl for washing the vaisselles — Ornamented tea-cloths — Muslin cap worn while dusting — Use of feather-brush —  Cleaning windows — Advantages of gas-fire.

The gas-fire is the key-note of my system of domestic economy. The thing most impossible for a lady to contemplate doing, unless compelled thereto by duty, is to get up early, and before the shutters are open or the household stirring, to lay and light a fire, or light one already laid. The thought of going to a coal-cellar, shovel in hand, to bring in a scuttle of coals on a winter's morning is enough to make the bravest shudder. It is work only suited to those who have strength and hard nurture.

But can the most delicate woman think it a hardship to light the gas-stove, or tripod, in the dining-room, whereon stands an enamel-lined kettle ready filled overnight, or else a coffee-pot already full, and only waiting for the match to be struck to make it hot?

This is less trouble than to rouse one's self at seven o'clock to ring the bed-room bell, which often fails to summon a sleepy maid: and few English servants are early risers. Those who keep foreign servants have greatly the advantage in this respect.

Very many of us require our servants to rise and be downstairs before seven, as most gentlemen have to be in the city, or at their offices or chambers, by nine, and all schoolboys and girls at school. In the great majority of families breakfast must be ready punctually at eight.

While the family is assembling and prayers are being read, the kettle is boiling, and the tripod is soon ready for eggs to be boiled upon it, and bacon or kidneys fried.

My experience of another plan for a very comfortable every-day breakfast is, where a spirit lamp (methylated spirit, not petroleum) stands on the breakfast-table at the mistress's right hand, and from a plate containing eggs, butter, and some rashers of bacon, she cooks a savoury omelet, and fries the rashers in a small china fryingpan over the lamp, passing to each person the hot slices as they are done, and serving the omelet fizzling from the pan to all.

This process of cooking only takes five minutes, and the food is ready to be eaten as soon as the tea is made or the coffee poured out; and it is a pretty and cheerful occupation while letters are being read and talked of, or the Saturday Review cut.

A few savoury herbs, such as parsley or chives, are a great addition to the omelet; and it is easy to chop overnight the teaspoonful that is sufficient for the purpose, and put it on the plate with the other preparations. A few slices of cold potato are easily fried when the bacon is taken out of the pan; the bacon fat fries them deliciously. The china frying pans may be bought at many shops, particularly at No. 9, Oxford Street, London.

Toast is not easily managed; but with hot rolls from the baker's, marmalade, honey, and potted meat or ham, on the table, a very substantial breakfast may be had with little trouble, and no delay in its preparation.

We will suppose the gentlemen of the family have left the house for the business of the day, and the boys gone to school, and we will now, before continuing our description of the house and its furniture, give an outline sketch of the proceedings of the ladies during their absence.

For England expects every woman to do her duty, as well as every man, and to prove herself a help-meet for man before pretending to rivalry. The division of our time given in the old lines seems to be a very rational one—

This allows ample time for rest and enjoyment, and sets apart an hour for daily service in the church for all who wish to attend it.

In Utopia, Sir Thomas More allots six hours a day for work to all men and women, and no longer; as he holds it to be important that we should have more time available for enjoying the living we work for, than for working to sustain it.

We give ourselves so little enjoyment in our play, that a great man once said, "Life would be very tolerable if it were not for its pleasures." We have come to treat our play as if it were our work—and no wonder, since we have made it so very troublesome—and having thrown our appointed work upon the shoulders of other people, we now complain how badly they do it.

We mothers have a certain work given us to do, not by man, but by our Maker, whose servants we are. This is to take care of our children. Instead of doing this, we leave them almost entirely in the hands of strangers, and during great part of the day we know nothing of their doings, nor of what they are learning or thinking.

What should we say to a nurse or a governess who neglected them as we do, and how shall we answer for our lack of care?

We householders have laid upon us the care of our houses. Yet it has come to be a recognized thing that we are to touch nothing in them with our own hands—at the utmost, we are to give our orders; and the wealthy among us do not even do that, but are waited upon with every luxury, and then sent ready-dressed into society.

We are not our own, and we have little to do with the making of our position in life. We must accept the status quo and make the best of it; so we may as well acquiesce cheerfully in our circumstances, doing as much as we can, and see if regular occupation will not make our hearts lighter, and help to bring back the days of Merry England again.

But we have no time for preaching now, and I would not willingly give a sermon in any case. I only threw out that suggestion of six hours' work for fear you might think I meant you to be busily employed all day, and then you would drop the book in disgust. But go on a little longer, and you will find that I am less hard than the Ladies' Art-Needlework Society, which insists upon eight hours of close application, and far less hard than the Cambridge Board of Examiners, which drives you on night and day, leaving no time for household duties; much less for dancing, or picking flowers in country lanes.

No; my six hours' work will include your music-practising, and your attentive reading for purposes of study. For unless yours be the only pair of feminine hands in the family, you will not find more than three hours occupied with household work, and part of that time will comprise a daily walk, a constitutional with an object, and the remaining part will not be disagreeable; at least, I hope not, but it will be work and not play.

After this explanation let us return to our subject. We will take it for granted that there are at least two ladies at home. One, the lady-help or eldest daughter, for example, will dust and set in order the drawing-room, whilst the mistress of the house proceeds to clear away the breakfast somewhat after the following manner.

When the coffee-pot was taken from the gas tripod to be placed on the breakfast-table, the kettle was refilled from a tap fixed on one side of the dining-room fire-place, and the water will be by this time hot enough to wash the cups and plates in.

Immediately under the tap stands a large bowl of Delft, or other ware sufficiently strong for daily use, and yet ornamental or picturesque enough to remain always in the dining-room. Terra-cotta is a good material for this purpose, as the colour is always decorative to a room. One might have a bowl of very elegant design made at the Watcombe terra-cotta works. Better still, in the case of its being required to be movable, would be a wooden bowl of the Norwegian carved work manufactured by peasant artists of Thelemarken, under the direction of M. de Coninck, of Christiania. Some one of Minton's vases or jardinières would answer the purpose very well; but unless it had a plug and a pipe for letting off the water, like many washstands have, it would be heavy to lift with water in it. But a bowl with these fittings, placed on a fixed stand near the fire-place, would be well worth while taking some trouble to procure for the dining-room. It would be quite as ornamental, and no more expensive, than the china flower-pots on unsteady pedestals which are so universally popular; indeed, it might balance one of these on the window-side of the fire-place, if it were thought proper. A piece of oilcloth might be spread under the pedestal, if it does not stand on the varnished floor.

From the sideboard-drawer will be taken a neatly folded tea-cloth, ornamented most probably with open work at each end, or adorned with colour in the style of the Russian household linen in the collection of the Duchess of Edinburgh, and the lady will proceed to rinse and wipe the breakfast cups and saucers, together with the teaspoons, milk-jug, and the cleaner plates, and will then lay the plates that have grease upon them to soak in the hot water, to which some additional hot water has been added.

Before taking out the plates, the china which has been used at breakfast should be neatly arranged on, or in, the sideboard. This saves the trouble of carrying about trays of crockery, and the consequent breakage. I will describe the china cabinet as I go more particularly into the details of the dining-room.

The remaining plates may now be wiped, and the etceteras replaced, the cloth brushed, neatly folded, and laid in a drawer with the table napkins, and the fryingpan cleansed by relighting the spirit-lamp for a minute while some hot water bubbles in it to clean it; the towel itself taken away to dry, and the tea-leaves, and a small basin of eggshells and scraps carried into the kitchen; the raw eggshells to be used to wash decanters and glass, and the tea-leaves reserved for dusting purposes.

The windows are opened and the gas fire turned out, and this important ceremonial of the day is at an end.

By this time the drawing-room will have been dusted by the second lady, the week's duster being kept in a convenient drawer. The feather-brush is wielded as a wand by the graceful mistress of the instrument, whom I should recommend to wear a muslin cap to keep the dust from falling on her hair.

These caps, when made of Swiss muslin and trimmed with a frill border edged with Valenciennes lace, are most becoming. They are best and prettiest when made in the shape of a large hair-net. A pretty bride used to come down to breakfast at Interlaken wearing this kind of cap, and other ladies at once adopted the style for wearing at their morning work or sketching. This was some years ago, but a good shape is always good.

To any one unused to the mysteries of dusting, it is surprising to find how easily the ornaments of a drawing-room may be kept in order, and how well the gilt frames of pictures preserved, by a light play of the feather-brush every morning. The French use the plumeau in nearly all cases where we rub with a hard duster, and with great advantage, especially in the case of gilding.

A man or woman hired once a month will keep the windows bright; they are all the brighter if cleaned with newspaper dipped in cold water—some mordant in the printer's ink has the property of rendering them so—and they are the more easily wiped, having less fluff about them than if cloths are used.

A light rub with a leather makes bright stove bars more brilliant, and in summer the fire-place will give very little trouble; though for ladies managing their own work, andirons and a wood fire will be found easier to keep in order, as well as being more picturesque.

A gas fire, built with pumice and asbestos, lasts without needing a touch for three years, and though less delightful than wood or coal, is infinitely cleaner, and gives no trouble at all. A gas apparatus with four jets can be laid in any ordinary fire-place, and fitted with pumice and asbestos complete for seven and twenty shillings, perhaps for less; but that is what I have paid. And when one considers the saving of labour in carrying upstairs heavy scuttles of coal, besides the original cost of the scuttles, with the ludicrous inappropriateness of the ornamental varieties, the total abolition of fire-irons, including that absurdity seen in many houses, the supplementary or deputy poker, besides requiring no chimneysweep in the drawing-room at all, it may be thought well worth while to have a gas fire laid at first. The superior cleanliness and security against smoke are great arguments for its general use, besides the ease with which it can be lighted, or turned out when not wanted for use. Being in the fire-place, the gas finds vent in the chimney, so there is no feeling of closeness in the room. The disadvantage of a gas fire, in some people's opinion, is that it may not be poked or touched; but this is soon forgotten. Its appearance is like a clear fire of cinders, except when the sun is shining, and then it burns with a greenish tint not at all pretty.

Breakfast cleared away, and the drawing-room neatly arranged, the beds have next to be made. This is done with little exertion, as modern beds have spring mattresses, and French wool mattresses above these which require no shaking; so that bed-making gives only a little exercise with a minimum of fatigue. Two people can make a bed with great ease, but as a rule I should advocate every person making his or her own bed.

I must not here go into the detail of setting the bed-rooms in order, as this will come more properly into the description of the upper part of the house. So I will only suggest that if one room be cleaned each day, and the staircase on one day, the housework is not so heavy a task as it appears.

THE KITCHEN.

Parisian markets — No refuse food brought into a house — Catering in London — Cooking-stoves — Pretty kitchen — Underground kitchens objectionable — Kitchen level with the street door — Larder and store-room — The dresser — Kitchen in the Swiss style — Herbs in the window — Hygienic value of aromatic plants — Polished sink — Earthenware scrap-dish — Nothing but ashes in dust-bin — Soap-dish — Plate-rack —  Kitchen cloths — Few cleaning materials necessary — Hand work better than machine work — Washing at home — Knife-cleaning — Fuel-box — No work in the kitchen unfit for a lady to do.

Time works many changes; but will it ever bring into our English markets the various and neatly arranged vegetables, the bouquets of salad, pleasant to the eye as to the taste, the neat little joints and divisions of meat, the temptingly prepared poultry and game, and the many kinds of appetizing comestibles, which are to be found in the markets of Paris? There a housekeeper may amuse herself by varying her dinners for every day, having an embarrassment of choice between countless delicacies. There the fillet of beef (the undercut of the sirloin) is already larded for the roast; the pigeons are boned and prepared for the compôte; the veal is cut in shape and beaten for the cutlets; the pigs'-feet are boned, stuffed, and truffled; slices of galantine are ready to be laid on a dish for luncheon; crayfish woo the mayonnaise; parsley and butter are waiting to be poured over potatoes à la maître-d'hôtel. There the spinach may be bought ready boiled and finely chopped, only needing to be warmed with its poached eggs; the sorrel is already picked over and cooked; the carrots are cleanly grown, and evenly selected, and sold with just the quantity of feathered green tops useful for a garnish. In fact, all is so contrived that the least possible refuse matter shall be brought into any house, so saving the labour that this entails.

Nor does this trimming and spoke-shaving add to the price of the articles, as the surplus vegetable remains go into the ground at once, but little of what is uneatable being taken to the market at all; thus saving the cost of carriage, and paying for the little time expended in its removal; while in the case of meat, the purchaser finds it more profitable to cook only such parts as are entirely eatable, without letting time and fire be consumed in preparing what is always wasted.

This is not a cookery-book, though when I think of how much we have to learn before we can make good use of our fine provisions, I feel tempted to branch off on this line; but the lady amateur will learn more by giving careful attention at the cooking-school than by reading many books.

In London we can buy peas ready shelled, fowls ready trussed, fish prepared for the pot or pan, and sometimes our beans ready slit; but carrots must be scraped, greens washed, and turnips peeled, and apples also, though potatoes need not; tongues and hams may be bought boiled, and cakes ready baked. Still, with us much more food has to be prepared at home than in France, though we have this convenience—that the provisions are brought by the tradesmen to our doors, which is seldom the practice there.

For general cooking, the gas tripod like that used at breakfast will not serve our turn, except on cold-collation days in the heat of summer, when cold lamb or salmon, salads and fruit, are more grateful than anything else.

Many people dislike to have their cooking done by gas, and it is objectionable for roasting or broiling; still, there are such numerous inventions in cooking-stoves, each simpler, cleaner, and more perfect than the rest, that only the embarrassment of selection can cause hesitation in making a choice.

Near a nice bright stove, placed in a recess glittering with Dutch tiles or Minton's artistic plaques, surrounded by burnished pans and pots of well-lined copper or brass and neat enamelled saucepans, the genius of the hearth presides over the mysteries of Hestia.

The window, made with diamond panes mingled with a few lozenges of bright colour, is mostly open in summer, and wreathed with climbing plants—as vines, and ornamental gourds, with their curious black or scarlet fruit, the rich foliage intercepting the sunshine—or closed if it be winter, and draped in pleasant muslin. I would take great pains to make my kitchen the most picturesque and cheerful room in the house, as it is one of the most important.

On no account would I use the great black beetle-trap cellar downstairs and underground, which strikes with dismay the greater number of young girls who have rushed from school into marriage, and who instantly become the prey of the tyrant imprisoned in that dungeon, which is too often also a den of iniquity.

No; if obliged to have a house with one of these dismal caverns, I would invent some useful purpose for it; but I would not willingly select such a dwelling. These underground kitchens must eventually die out, and our children will wonder why we used such airless, lightless places.

In a house arranged on my plan we aim upwards, not downwards. We might, perhaps, on wet days, let the children go to these basement rooms to skip or romp, as there they could not shake down the ceiling beneath them, as sometimes happens in upstairs play-rooms; only the rooms must be kept carefully whitewashed, and, as far as possible, well aired.

Or the old kitchen might be fitted up with racks for guns and fishing-rods, and used as a smoking-room, when cosily papered, and carpeted with matting; and the back kitchen converted into a carpenter's shop with lathe and tool-chest.

But our kitchen, the pride of our house, will be level with the dining-room and front door. It is a foolish practice to have all vegetables, meat, coal, etc., taken downstairs for the purpose of bringing them all up again.

When it is impossible to spare two rooms on the ground floor for household use, let both kitchen and dining-room be upstairs, while the drawing-room might be on the ground floor. This would give no more work than does our present custom. But where it is possible, it is better, for obvious reasons, that the kitchen should be on a level with the street door.

When the room used as kitchen is large and has two windows, one side of it may be partitioned off for a larder, or store closet; or if there is a small third room near, it may be used for these purposes. But much depends upon the aspect of the room and its means of ventilation. A town larder need not be large, as the butcher, fishmonger, etc., can keep the provisions far better than we can do in the best of larders. A pantry and scullery will be quite unnecessary in a house arranged in this way. Wine will be kept in the usual wine-cellar, but beer, in bottles or in a small cask, may be kept in the cupboard under the stairs which is so universal in town houses.

The kitchen floor should not be carpeted; but one or two undyed sheepskins make comfortable mats, and are easily cleaned.

The kitchen dresser may be made of the usual shape, though the cornice seems superfluous, as it is too high for anything but dust to rest upon it.

Where it is thought better to do so, the old kitchen dresser may be brought bodily upstairs. If it is varnished and its back painted red, and the edges of its shelves very dark brown, with bright brass hooks in them, it may have bright brass handles put on its drawers, and it will do very well; and white or blue-and-white ware will look extremely well upon it.

A kitchen may be very prettily fitted up in the Swiss style, with unpainted deal employed decoratively whenever there is a fit occasion for it. The back of the dresser may be made of narrow boards, each lath cut out uniformly in a pattern at the top, forming a band of ornament. The shelves will look very nice with a border of fretwork, in sycamore, placed either above or below their edges. They are more easily cleaned if the ornamental border is fastened on like barge-boarding, but this plan is not so well adapted for hooks.

Mottoes in old English character, which is similar to the German Gothic type used in Switzerland, form an appropriate decoration to the cornice of the room.

The tables and chairs must be of unpainted wood, plain, but of good form. All hooks and bars, or whatever cannot conveniently be made of wood, should be of wrought iron. This gives a good opportunity for having window-bars and fastenings, or even a balcony, made in ornamental iron work. The window-curtains will be of Swiss muslin.

Oval wooden pails, with a board on one side left tall and cut out for a handle, made in various sizes for water, milk, etc., are as useful as they are suitable to the style adopted; and baskets may be made like those carried by the Swiss mountaineers at their backs. A cuckoo clock and a few hooks of chamois horn carry out the effect. Characteristic ornaments, such as paintings of Swiss scenery, and flowers in wooden frames, wood carvings on brackets, wooden bears as matchboxes, wooden screw nutcrackers, should be collected during visits to Switzerland; and a Swiss costume will be found as practically useful as any dress the young cook can wear, and will add a great charm and liveliness to the scene.

But be the style adopted what it may, and it is well to exercise individual tastes, it need not be made expensive, or not more so than an ugly kitchen. Thought and care should combine to make it cheerful and attractive, in order that the real work to be done in it may not have a depressing influence: that the lady, or her assistant, may not pine for the greater excitement of the Row or the rink. The kitchen window should be well furnished with scented plants; and in case of having no garden, pots of parsley, mint, and thyme may be grown successfully on a balcony. Every house might possess its sweet basil plant, and every Isabella might rear it in as elegant a pot as that in Holman Hunt's picture. Plentiful use should be made of it in cookery; it is one of the best of herbs. Indeed, we too much neglect all these aromatic plants, the hygienic value of their fragrance alone being very great. Some girls might save the small fortune they now spend in opopanax and patchouly, by cultivating lavender and thyme for their wardrobes; while balm and bergamot are sweet enough to make the kitchen smell like Araby the Blest.

China ginger-jars will be found good for preserving dried herbs for winter use.

The sink is a very important part of the kitchen furniture. This, in our model kitchen, should be a shallow bath of Marezzo marble, which is a strong, durable composition, finely coloured. We should select it of a colour harmonizing with the general style of the kitchen. The sink must rest upon two columns, or short shafts, of the Marezzo marble, hollowed down the centre, to allow of the water running freely away at both ends of the sink, each tube being stopped by a bell-trap. It must stand on one side of the kitchen fire-place, so that a pipe and tap may readily communicate with the self-supplying boiler. There must also be the usual pipe to conduct cold water from the cistern.

The best possible sink would be of real marble, highly polished; but the cost of this would preclude its use in our economical household. Enamelled slate would be cheaper and very good, and it would retain its polish better than the Marezzo marble, or japanned metal might answer the purpose pretty well. But doubtless a demand for such articles would cause Messrs. Minton's factory to produce a sink in strong glazed earthenware which should be finely coloured as well as elegant in form, making, indeed, an object as beautiful as a Roman porphyry bath. Many of the public washing fountains in Italy, or the south of France, would serve as models for this purpose. One of the most important points to be attended to is that it should be highly polished, as grease would be more easily removed from it, and it would be cleaner.

Beneath the sink is the pot for scraps and refuse, of which a small quantity is inevitable, unless there is a garden, or poultry are kept; in which cases all rubbish may be turned to account, the only exception being fish-bones and scraps, which, under all circumstances, must be burned.

The refuse dish should be of earthenware to match the sink, or of terra-cotta, glazed inside. It must be made in two compartments, one for usable scraps and one for waste. Each division should have a cover with a small air-hole in it, both covers made sufficiently heavy not to be upset or opened by the cat; and there must be a handle to lift it out once a week, or oftener, when its contents are disposed of, either as gift, or to some person calling for it regularly. In all economical families the dripping is consumed either for frying, or else clarified for cakes, etc. Cinders, of course, are to be sifted in the covered cinder-sieve, and the ashes only allowed in the dust-bin. By care on this point, seven-tenths of all fevers might be prevented.

By the side of the sink should stand a neat towel-horse for drying the damp cloths; and a pretty dish made in two divisions, with a strainer for soap and soda, should be hung in a convenient place. This dish would be best made in earthenware, but it might be of carved wood in a kitchen fitted up in the Swiss style.

A plate-rack must be above the sink, and here is great scope for tasteful decoration without interfering with its lightness or strength. A rack like those in general use would, however, be perfectly inoffensive, and so would our ordinary buckets and dish-tubs; but souvenirs of travel, such as the quaint wooden pails seen at Antwerp, or the brass fryingpan-shaped candlesticks at Ghent, should be eagerly sought, as they add much to the picturesqueness and piquant liveliness which are so desirable.

A round towel, on a roller with nicely carved brackets, is indispensable. This should be of finer holland than it is generally made of, being for ladies' use; or it might preferably be of soft Turkish towelling, with coloured stripes and a fringed end, and so be pleasanter to the eye and touch than the ordinary jack-towel.

The dresser-drawers must have their piles of kitchen cloths neatly folded, and separated for their different services. These should be the pride of the young housewife's heart, all of them having their ends tastefully ornamented, either ravelled out or knotted into fringe for the commonest, or open worked, or edged with Greek lace and guipure-d'art, according to their quality; the dusters only being plain, and these of two sorts, one stout for furniture, and the other kind of soft muslin for ornaments. Housemaid's gloves, wash-leather, and any favourite cleaning materials, should be kept in a drawer by themselves; but in my experience I have found very few of these things necessary. As is the case with all the arts, the more complete the paraphernalia, the less is the work done. It takes so long to set in order one's apparatus, and to play with it a little, that as soon as something is begun to be done, it is time to put all away again. How often we see this with amateur painters; they set out too heavily equipped.

The black-lead and brush, and broken saucer full of something pulpy, the powder that is always falling out of its packet or bit of newspaper, and the other odds and ends which crowd our house-maids' dirty buckets, and the scrubbing brushes and hearthstone which encumber our sinks, are only barbarisms trying to conceal the slovenliness they pretend to correct. A house regularly and neatly attended to needs few or none of these things, while sandpaper, rotten-stone, and whiting may be almost entirely dispensed with. The homely old proverb should be remembered, when tempted by advertisements of these things, "Elbow-grease is the best furniture polish."

Mincing-machines, apple-paring-machines, and toys of this kind, are all very well when ladies use them themselves; but they represent so much idleness, waste, and destruction in the hands of careless cooks, who like to sit over their letter writing, or their weekly paper, while the kitchen-maid does the work. And when a fragile machine breaks or gets out of order under her heavy hand, she only "drats the nasty thing" and throws away the broken part, pushing the rest aside to become a portion of the dreadful accumulation of lumber to be seen in every house.

My own practice as a wood-carver teaches me to prefer using that perfect tool, the hand, in its ever adaptable way, to using it servilely to grind out sausages. By the time one has prepared the meat to feed the machine, set it in working order, and taken it to pieces again to clean it, one might as soon have used a sharp knife, and the meat would have tasted better than it does when its juice is squeezed out and its fibre torn to rags, so that the insipid rissoles made from it need half a bottle of Harvey's sauce to make them eatable. It may be a matter of taste, but the difference seems to me as great as between music played on a piano and noise ground out of a barrel-organ.

Washing-machines, I have found to my cost, are a failure also, at least in hired hands. I bought one of the best, but as I had also a washing-tray, the machine, warranted to do everything, was neglected, and its lid employed as a table; as we too often see with our pianos, telling thereby a tale of forgetfulness. The mangling part of the machine, which was sometimes used by semi-compulsion, always had its screw left turned on at full pressure, so that the spring would have been powerless in a week, had I not loosened it myself. Washing at home had better not be attempted in the case of ladies doing their own work. We want to lighten the labour of the house; since, if we endeavour to do too much, we shall either become household drudges, or else decline the work altogether.

But supposing a family has time and opportunity to do the laundry work at home, a tablespoonful of liquid ammonia and a dessertspoonful of turpentine used in the washing water, where a quarter of a pound of soap has been finely sliced, will be found to remove dirt from the clothes without rubbing, saving labour, much soap, and the wear and tear of the things.

In the case of large families, besides the greater economy of washing at home, which is, however, doubtful when extra labour is hired, the immunity from infectious diseases being brought home in the linen is a powerful motive for undertaking the work, and doubly so where there is a garden, as it is so much better for our health to wear linen dried in the fresh air, rather than in the small courts of the neighbourhood where our laundresses usually dwell, or in the close passages of their houses.

Kent's patent knife-cleaner is as much used, and as useful, as any of these domestic machines, though I prefer the leather-covered board. Pyro-silver knives seem to save labour, as they are cleaned like any spoon; wiped first, as all greasy knives should be, with paper, then washed in warm water and wiped with a cloth. My own pyro-silver knives keep very well and remain bright, but as they have valuable handles of elaborate Burmese ivory-carving they are carefully used. I have heard people say that the pyro-silver does not wear well, being easily scratched and otherwise injured.

Balancing the sink on one side of the stove is the fuel-box, containing a quarter of ton of coal. This, in most of the new stoves, will last several weeks, and it may be bought in this small quantity at a time, or replenished from the usual coal-cellar. This consideration would be determined by the season, by whether the other stoves in the house burn gas or coal, and by the number of rooms requiring daily fires.

The fuel-box should have a lid, forming a table for any temporary uses, or any of the less cleanly sorts of work—I will not say dirtier work, because in this system there should be no dirty work, nothing but what a lady may do without loss of dignity, and without injury to hands which in the afternoon will handle delicate needlework, and in the evening recreate themselves over the piano.

And this leads us to speak of the systematic employment of lady-helps, in such cases as they may be a real comfort and assistance in a family, and not where they are expected to be perfect servants, who for small wages will relieve idle ladies from the difficulty of first obtaining and then enduring a few ignorant domestics.