CHAPTER VI.

THE HALL.

Perhaps the most difficult part of a house to really make look nice is the hall, especially in one of the small houses of the period, where that tiresome man, the builder, appears to consider either that an entrance to the house is not necessary at all, or that the smaller it is, and the more the stairs are in evidence, the better and more appropriate it is to Angelina’s lowly station in life; indeed, this idiosyncrasy is not confined to small houses, for I know of more than one good-sized domicile that is entirely spoiled by the manner in which the staircase rises from the front door, scarcely allowing that room enough to open, or which has not space even for the hat-stand and hall-table to which the British matron is as a rule so very fondly attached. However, there is now a distinct advance in the matter of the hall in many of the new houses; and we will take it for granted that we have a small space at all events that we can make the very best of, for nothing adds so much to the appearance of a house as a nicely arranged hall. Indeed, were I now beginning housekeeping, nothing should induce me to take a house where there was not an appreciable distance between the sitting-rooms and the front door, for if this latter opens direct on them it is impossible to avoid draughts and constant catching of cold; a nicely warmed sitting-room becoming well-nigh uninhabitable when the front door is opened on a cold or windy night: a chill and cutting draught enters, and in a moment a bad cold is caught. I know nothing more important, therefore, than to consider the position of a front door in choosing a house, as not only one’s comfort but much of one’s health depends upon this. I have had this ‘borne in upon me,’ as the Shakers would say, often and often, when I have been staying in a house where there is literally not a square yard of hall, where the stairs and the front door seem all one, and where the drawing-room literally opens out into the place where the front door is. Even in not particularly cold weather, nothing keeps such a house even warm, and the sudden changes of temperature caused by this arrangement are so great that I have had to live in a shawl and yet could not rise above freezing point; and, of course, what it must be in the depth of winter I must leave my readers to imagine.

The first thing to look at, then, is what we can do with our hall, when we have it. If the front door is very near us, we must hang over it a good thick curtain. I should advise a double curtain of serge or felt. This could be arranged on one of those delightful rods that are, I believe, only to be purchased of Maple, and that move with the door itself in some mysterious way, with a bracket arrangement, and that prevents the necessity of drawing the curtain itself when the door is opened. Of course this would only be for winter use and for when the delightful east wind was blowing; but over all the doors in my hall I have curtains which remain up all the year round, because they look so nice, and are really of a great deal of use in more ways than one. As the doors open inwards, these are only put up on the ordinary narrow brass poles with rings, and are tied back with Liberty silk handkerchiefs, or in several instances looped high with cords, as in Illustration No. 1. This allows of the curtain being dropped in one moment should more warmth be desired. These cords and tassels are procurable at Smee’s, while the handkerchiefs are Liberty’s. A 3s. 6d. handkerchief, cut in half and hemmed, is the proper size to use for this purpose, should they be preferred to the cords. Some of the curtains are made of stamped velveteen at 2s. 3d. and 2s. 6d. the yard, edged round the bottom and one side with a ball fringe to match, and others are made of serge; but I prefer the velveteen—it wears beautifully, and can be made to look as good as new by being re-dipped by Pullar the dyer, who lives at Perth, who is very well known, and has agents all over the kingdom, so there is no expense, incurred in sending the things to him. The curtains over the doorways of the sitting-rooms are always kept tied back, and I furthermore put in tintacks down the sides nearest the wall to keep them in place, and to keep out the draught. This does not harm the curtains in the least if very small bits of tape are sewn on the material, and the nail inserted in these, not in the curtains themselves. Over the door that leads into the kitchen departments the curtains should be in one piece, capable of being drawn; to keep this in place it is well to put the last ring over the end of the pole, so that it cannot be drawn on more than one side. This saves it from looking like a rag, which it would do could it be drawn with equal ease both sides, and also secures that it shall remain drawn over a door that would be always revealing all sorts of domestic secrets were it not for the friendly shield of the concealing curtain, in the praise of which I feel I cannot really say too much.

The flooring of the hall is our next consideration. If we have tiles, and very many houses have tiles nowadays, I think I should be inclined to say, leave the floor just as it is. If you put down a nice rug, dirty boots soon reduce it to a state of dirt and squalor; and nicely washed tiles really look as well as anything. Of course a good thick mat must be placed at the front door. This is best purchased at Treloar’s, in Ludgate Hill, for I really do believe his mats never wear out. I have had one for years with ‘Salve’ on in red letters, and that mat is as good now as the day on which I purchased it, and it has had the wear of boys to contend with, to say nothing of, first, an extremely chalky soil, and then a clay one. Behind the door I should put a brass stand, just to hold the wet umbrellas. Maple has very pretty brass stands indeed for about 25s. 6d.; but when dry each member of the family should be made to take his or her umbrella into their own room, and put them in a corner there not rolled up. The life of an umbrella is quite doubled in length if this simple rule is remembered, and, indeed, if there be a room where the umbrella can be allowed to dry, I should advise its being put there at once open, for umbrella stands wear out one’s umbrella quicker than any amount of wear. Very pretty stands are now made from drain-pipes, which are painted, and in some cases embellished with flowers made from clay in imitation of Barbotine ware; but these are easily broken, and I think a brass one much the best for all purposes.

Now, on no account allow any one to hang up a coat or wrap in the hall. First of all, a collection of coats and hats tempts a thief; and, secondly, I cannot imagine anything more untidy-looking. The men of the household can be easily trained to take their own especial property at once into their own rooms, where there should be accommodation for them; and visitors’ hats and coats can be taken possession of by the maid, and hung up in the passage behind the curtained door that leads to the kitchen, where they are out of sight at all events, and can be given back to their owners quite as easily as if they were making our hall like an old clothes shop, or filling it with water from outside. On no account, therefore, buy a hall stand, brass hooks or a row of pegs in some unobtrusive corner answering every purpose, as far as I can see. Of course if the master comes in wet his garments must go straight to the kitchen fire, anyhow; if he be dry, why should he not take his hat and coat into his own dressing-room? We do not put on our bonnets and jackets in the hall, or keep them there either, and I cannot myself see why he should. But it is all a matter of management and use, and if he be asked to begin properly by taking his property upstairs, I am quite sure there will be no trouble about that detestable piece of furniture, a hat-stand.

Of course, nowadays no one thinks of having imitation marble-paper in the hall—that monstrosity is at last never now to be met with; but the hall paper is rather a difficult business, and must be chosen especially to suit the hall for which it is intended. A soft green paper makes almost any hall and staircase look cheerful, but my pet paper is undoubtedly Pither’s ‘blue blossom,’ at 1s. 6d. a piece, and I especially recommend a dado here, but not a paper one—this soon gets shabby. Children’s little paws, boxes going up and down, a thousand things inseparable from a staircase, in the shape of wear and tear, all have to be considered. Therefore, either a dado of matting, with a real wooden rail, painted the colour of the paper or else a wooden dado, or one of really pretty cretonne, are all to be preferred, because they stand a good many hard knocks, and remain unspoiled to the last. A matting dado, I think myself, is the very best, and, if desired, the stair-carpets can be saved much wear by covering them in their turn with narrow matting too. I really think a blue hall is as pretty as any, and then old-gold curtains over the doors look charming; but a sage-green hall looks extremely well, and I have seen a terra-cotta paper, with a chintz dado, using Liberty’s Mysore chintz, that had a very pretty effect indeed. If the banisters end in a round, a good effect is procured by placing a plant in a pot there. I had one that never got knocked over; but, for fear of a catastrophe, a brass pot with an aspidistra should be selected, as, if this falls, it cannot be utterly and entirely done for, as a china one would be containing a fragile fern or a delicate palm, neither of which, by the way, would stand the draught as the long-suffering aspidistra invariably does. I like pictures up the staircase, and, should there be a staircase window, artistic jugs and pots, more especially the Bournemouth and Rebecca ware, sold by Mr. Elliot (who lives at the top of the Queen’s Road, Bayswater, No. 18), should stand all along the window-ledge; and if the outlook be ugly, the entire window should be covered by a fluted muslin curtain in art colours, using either Madras, which does not wash well, and must always be new here, or Liberty’s artistic muslins at 1s. a yard, with the appearance of which I am delighted, either for window blinds or summer quilts, or material for throwing over sofas, instead of guipure and muslin. It is sold in all colours, and is one of the best things I have seen for some time.

How we furnish our hall must of course entirely depend on the room we have. Liberty has some charming bamboo settees in black, and arm-chairs to match. These are especially suitable for a hall, while an oak chest with an oaken back is a most valuable possession; the chest holds comfortably the year’s accumulation of papers and magazines until it is time for them to go to the binder, and the top and back are charming with heavy jugs on, made too heavy to be blown over by filling them with sand, in which, when flowers are plentiful, blossoms can be put, and when they are scarce, leaves and berries and pampas grasses show to great advantage. If any small tables are about, have plants and books on them, and above all avoid any appearance of a passage or hall—nothing makes a house look so miserable. A good thing to bang in the hall is a nicely illuminated card saying when the post goes out, with a box underneath for the letters, and the time-table and a hat-brush should be in some unobtrusive corner, whence they should never be moved on any pretext whatever; a fixed matchbox, that should always be full, is another institution, and a candlestick in good order should be put on one of the tables when the hall gas is lighted. The painted artistic-looking candlesticks sold by Liberty at 2s. 9d. are very pretty, but a brass candlestick does not get shabby quite so soon, and is not much if any dearer. One more axiom: never have loose mats at the room doors outside; they only turn over with the ladies’ dresses, and get untidy, while a piece of indiarubber tubing at the bottom of the door keeps out far more draught than any mat possibly can. If the hall be not tiled, I recommend it to be covered with Pither’s capital hard-wearing drugget over felt, with one or two dhurries about, put down carelessly, for sake of the colour; these wash beautifully and wear excellently, and begin at 1s. 6d. each, rising in price according to size, while one or two of the Kurd or Scinde rugs would be even better than these, as they stand a very great deal of wear and tear.

Before passing away from the hall, I will just mention two or three schemes of decoration that are absolutely certain to be a success, and therefore can be adopted without any chance of a failure: No. 1 is Pither’s invaluable red and white ‘berry’ paper at 1s. 6d. a piece; a dado of red and white matting—Treloar, Ludgate Hill, has a capital one at about 1s. a yard, and varnished paint the exact colour of the red on the flower; blue hard wearing drugget on the floor, and red, white, and blue striped dhurries for portières. No. 2.—Paper of a good sage-green, with dado of Japanese leather paper in sage-green, and gold all the paint varnished sage-green and Pither’s terra-cotta hard-wearing drugget on the floor and stairs; terra-cotta and grey-blue serge curtains would be safe here, and if there be a back staircase and no boys in the house, the dado may be replaced by a frieze of Maple’s grey-gold Japanese leather paper; this resembles a flight of birds among palm branches, and this arrangement is simply a perfect hall, but not suitable for one where there is much traffic. All the paint, on doors, wainscot, and frieze or picture-rail alike, must be one shade of green only, and I most strongly deprecate for any place the odious habit of picking out styles and wainscoting with another shade of paint; this is never needed, only adds to the work, and draws attention to the paint, at which we do not want to look, and which would only serve as a pleasant background to oneself and one’s belongings. The sides of the stairs and the balustrading should all be painted to match, though the mahogany handrail should be left alone.

Scheme No. 3 would only do where expense was no object, but would undoubtedly make a most lovely hall. This would be in cream-coloured varnished paint, with a high wooden dado painted cream colour, and then embellished with sketches of birds and flowers by Mrs. McClelland’s clever fingers; the paper could be a good gold-coloured Japanese leather paper, and the carpets could be Oriental rugs sewn together, while the hall should have a handsome Oriental square of carpet, and one or two divans placed about it; the draperies could be Liberty’s beautiful chenille material in Oriental colours too, and great care should be taken with their arrangement. In all cases I strongly advise the ceilings to be papered, no one who has once indulged in a coloured or decorated ceiling ever going back to the cold, ugly whitewash, with which we have all been so contented so long. It is generally safe to put a blue and white ceiling paper with a yellow or red wall paper, a terra-cotta and white with green walls, and a yellow and white with blue walls, taking care to carry out this combination of colouring in the carpets, draperies, &c.

Much as I dislike gas, it is a necessity in any hall, and I here produce two sketches of beaten iron gas-lamps that would be suitable for almost any style of decoration; these are from the designs of Messrs. Strode, 48 Osnaburgh Street, Regent’s Park, and cost respectively 5l. 15s. and 1l. 4s. each; quite simple hanging lamps are to be had from Mr. Smee at 35s., in beaten iron, but these are not quite large enough by themselves to light a hall, and two at least would be required.

On no account, by the way, allow your front door to be disfigured with the terrible ‘graining,’ against which I am always waging war. Painters always beg to be allowed to ‘embellish’ at least the front door with the hideous but orthodox arrangement of yellows and browns, scraped mysteriously and agonisedly with a comb, or some such instrument, in a faint and feeble attempt to deceive callers into believing that the door is made of some highly polished wood, veined by nature, in a way that could not deceive the veriest ignoramus; but I stoutly set my face against such an idea, and denounce graining as the hideous and palpable sham it undoubtedly is, advising all who come to me to have some good deep self-colour for their front door, and generally suggesting a very dark peacock-blue door for a ‘blue blossom’ hall, a very dark Indian red for the red berry, and a dark sage-green for the sage-green hall, adding brass handles and furniture; this stamps the house at once as an artistic one, and one in which ‘graining’ will not be allowed at any price.

And here I will pause for a moment to beg any one who may need these words of mine to refuse to allow any graining whatever in their houses; it is a barbarism that should be allowed to die out as quickly as may be; it is always ugly, always inartistic, and, being an undoubted attempt to seem what it is not, I set my face against it always. I would rather have deal, rubbed over with boiled oil, than the most ‘artistically’ imitated piece of walnut or mahogany ever produced by the grainer’s tools; the one is neat, the other a vulgar sham—vulgar because it is always vulgar to seem to be what one is not, and to pretend to be what can be contradicted by the tiniest scratch, rather than to be confessedly of a cheap material, and therefore graining cannot be too strongly condemned.

Many people cling to it who dislike it as much as I do, because they are told nothing can be done to it, unless all the paint is burned off; there never was a greater fallacy! To paint over graining all one has to do is to have the paint washed thoroughly with strong soda and water, and then rubbed down with glass-paper, then apply one coat of Aspinall’s water-paint and one coat of his enamel, and you can possess at once all the colour you require, without any trouble at all. Of course a perfect ‘job’ is only made by burning off the paint, but no one could ever tell this had not been done, and very particular people can themselves apply first of all Carson’s ‘detergent,’ sold at Carson’s paint works, La Belle Sauvage Yard, for 5s. a tin; this brings off the old paint in flakes, and leaves the bare wood ready for the painter’s brush. Still this is not necessary, and people who have kept to graining because they dread the burning-off process need do so no longer, unless they positively cannot afford the new paint required to cover it over.

A stone hall in the country looks much better if the stones are painted a good red or blue, instead of being whitened daily, and Treloar’s scarlet cocoanut matting is invaluable in back passages and on kitchen stairs; and above all we must recollect that the hall gives the first welcome to our guests, and that therefore the more it resembles a cosy, comfortable, artistic room, the more likely is the rest of the house to be a charming and successfully designed and furnished home.

CHAPTER VII.

THE DINING-ROOM.

How often a well-managed house, an income carefully (not meanly, not lavishly, but carefully) administered, or a pretty idea pleasantly carried out, has shone like a bright light in this naughty world—other people have seen our strivings, may be have noted our cheerful bright house, and seen our small but comfortable ménage, and have gone on their way cheered and refreshed by our example, and in copying it have influenced some one else in quite another part of London or the suburbs; and, alas! how many may we not have helped on the downward path of extravagance and foolish lavishness by our foolishness or our needless display, which we have repented of, most likely, long before all the bills were paid.

Taking into consideration the fact that no one can live to themselves, even in the purchase of chairs and tables, we may, perhaps, be forgiven our sermon; but lest Angelina tires of our prating, and shrinks appalled from the serious manner in which we cannot help regarding the starting of any new home, we will leave off preaching on unsuitability, and proceed on our journey in search of nice and suitable furniture for our small dining-room.

Great care must be taken in selecting our dining-room chairs, and we earnestly advise all intending purchasers of these necessary articles of furniture to look not so much at the appearance as to their capabilities for affording a resting-place to a weary back; for I have often endured a silent martyrdom at many a dinner-party, in the houses of those amiable but mistaken people who go in for Chippendale chairs, embellished by carvings just where one leans back, or for those other still more agonising seats which have a round gap or space, and through which one almost falls should one try to lean against them and so obtain rest; and I am naturally anxious to save others from the sufferings I have endured, either on the chairs just spoken of, or seated on one the seat of which was so high from the ground that my legs have refused to reach it, and I have hung suspended in mid-air, until I have hardly known how to sit out the long and elaborate meal I was enduring, certainly not enjoying.

Now here are five chairs illustrated, any one of which would be quite safe to have. No. 5 is the most expensive of all, and would cost about 3l. 10s. each. These are ebonised New Zealand pine, and are upholstered in a dull brown morocco, which has worn splendidly. Nos. 6, 7, and 8 are Mr. Smee’s designs, and are made with a peculiar curve in the backs, which just takes one’s shoulders, and gives one a comfortable resting-place without appearing to be in the least a lounge. These chairs can be had for about 32s. and 42s. respectively, No. 6 being upholstered in a species of woollen tapestry, which wears well, and would be singularly suitable for a small ménage, and is, therefore, not out of the reach of most of us; while for folks who require something much less expensive than even the cheapest chairs just spoken of, there are the 3s. 6d. rush-seated black-framed chairs, sold by Messrs. Harding Bros., Beaconsfield, Bucks, which are strong, artistic in appearance, and infinitely to be preferred to the chairs in the terrible ‘suites,’ that are such a temptation to the unwary, and to those who make that most fatal of all mistakes, and do their shopping in a hurry—than which there cannot be a greater error.

In a small room I am much inclined to a round table; these are much more cosy, and much more easily arranged to look nice; but, in any case, the table need only be stained deal, with fairly good legs, for in these days the table is always kept covered by a tablecloth, and is never shown as it used to be in the old times, when half the occupation of the servants, and often enough of the unfortunate mistress too, was to polish the mahogany incubus, and bring it up to a state of perfection. We have other and better occupations now than this constant ‘furniture tending,’ I am glad to say; and, oh! how much prettier our houses are, to be sure, than they used to be.

There are two of these species of tablecloths especially to be recommended, both for their artistic and their inexpensive merits, and are far to be preferred to the tapestry cloths kept ready made in most shops. Self-coloured felt or serge makes an admirable cover, especially if a border is added of some contrasting colour. Peacock-blue serge looks well with an old-gold border, about six inches wide; each side of the border has a gimp combining the two colours, and the cloth itself is edged with a tufted fringe. Two shades of red look well too; but, of course, the cloth must be chosen to harmonise with the room in which it is to be used, and not bought, as Englishmen all too often make their purchases, because the thing is pretty in itself, forgetting that it ceases to have even a claim on the score of beauty when placed among incongruous surroundings. I may mention, now I am on the subject of tablecloths, that I much dislike the custom of leaving the white tablecloth on all day long; this invariably makes the room look like an eating-house, and causes the cloth to appear messed, for dust from the fire settles upon it; and I always insist on the white cloth being brushed, folded in its folds on the table by the two maids, and then placed at once in the press, a cloth managed like that lasting twice as long and looking much better than the one that is left on for two or three days at a time; for few if any of us can now afford a clean tablecloth every day, not only on the score of the washing, but because the washing process too often applied ruins our cloths, and results in nothing save a series of holes, worn by chemicals and careless mangling; therefore the white cloth must be removed, and replaced by a good art serge or felt, made up, as suggested above, with a band of some contrasting hue. This cloth careful people remove during meals, for no one can be sure whether gravy or wine will not be upset; and teacups and saucers have been known to be turned over bodily even in the best-regulated families. These accidents do no positive damage if the good cloth is removed; and, after all, this is a small thing to recollect, and may save expenditure both of money and temper too.

These tiny hints are of course meant for people who are not well off, but may not be out of place even to those richer people who are lucky enough not to be obliged to worry after every trifle. A penny saved is a penny gained; and even the richest among us has need to be careful. What he saves can after all be given to some poor brother.

But however rich you are do not be persuaded to buy that ugly, expensive, and tremendous thing a sideboard; neither waste your substance on dinner-wagons, they spoil the appearance of everything; but get some obliging and clever upholsterer to make you a cabinet or two, one for each side of the fireplace, if you have recesses there, and take care they are pretty, for much of the look of your home depends upon what you have in the shape of armoires. I have two made in ebonised wood from a design given me by a Royal Academician, which are illustrated here. They have three shelves, then a broad space where are deep cupboards, and then again an empty space, where books can be kept, or great jars put to decorate it. On the three shelves I arrange china, which is also arranged on the top of the part that has three cupboards. These have brass hinges and good locks, and hold wine, dessert, dinner napkins, and trifles, such as string, nails, and other necessary articles, and answer every purpose of a sideboard, and, instead of being ordinary, ugly things, are so

decorative that no one ever enters my room without noticing them and asking me where they are to be procured. I have had mine some years now, but extremely nice ones are made by Mr. Smee, the prices beginning at 6l. 6s. in plain deal ready for painting any special hue to suit any room, to 10l. 10s. each in oak or walnut; and I very strongly recommend them to people who really wish their home to be artistic, and not a mere warehouse for necessary furniture, for while they answer the same purpose as a sideboard, they are pretty to look at, and would not be out of place in an ordinary sitting-room.

Up to this present moment I have said nothing about the colour or arrangement of the walls of the dining-room, and so, before proceeding to dilate on the rest of the furniture, I will here give my readers a few hints on this subject. In the first place, then, let all people about to furnish determine that their dining-room shall be cheerful somehow, and let them eschew anything like dark colours or dingy papers, refusing to listen to the voice of the charmer, who has his ‘appropriate’ designs to sell, and does not care in the least for your ideas on the subject; and, having mentally selected the colour that appeals to their taste, let them refuse manfully to be talked out of their purpose by a man who has no ideas beyond the conventional ones of dark colours for a dining and light ones for a drawing-room.

For those people who can afford it, I advise invariably a plain gold Japanese leather paper, with a bold red and gold leather paper as a dado. The plain paper is 4s. 6d. a piece of nine yards, French or narrow width; the dado paper is 1s. 6d. a yard. All the paint in the room should be the exact shade of the red of the ground of the paper, and the painter should be instructed to keep entirely to one shade of paint, to do no ‘picking out’ or embellishments at all, but to paint wainscot, shutters, dado rail, and doors alike in one uniform shade of a good red, mixing the last coat with varnish, or else giving one coat of Mr. Aspinall’s invaluable enamel paint, which gives a smooth and polished appearance, particularly suitable for this special tint of red. The dado rail is sold by Maple ready to put up at 2¼d. a foot; thus it would be easy for any one to calculate exactly how much such a scheme of decoration would cost. Then the ceiling should be papered in pale yellow and white. The cornice should in no case be outlined or ‘picked out’ with colours, but should be a uniform shade of cream, thus just shading into the paper without calling attention to itself.

Here let me pause for one moment to impress emphatically on my readers the great necessity of recollecting that paint and paper are after all only a background to oneself and one’s belongings, and therefore are not to be brought unduly forward. The paint must always be kept one shade of one colour; the cornice must always be coloured a deep cream, and the necessary

relief in doors and shutters is obtained by filling the panels thereof with a good Japanese leather paper, which at once causes the proper decorative effect with the expenditure of a very little money, the effect being heightened by the addition of brass locks and handles, which cost very little, and yet just add the finishing touches to the room.

Should the Japanese paper be too expensive, the red effect could be obtained by one of Pither’s papers with a bold frieze in a good floral design. This is united to the paper by a frieze or picture rail, sold by Maple at 2¼d. a foot unpainted, and from this frieze the pictures hang on brass hooks made on purpose; these are about 2s. 6d. a dozen; and the pictures are suspended from them on copper wires; this, however, only answers where there is no gas, as gas corrodes the wire rather quickly, and then cords must be used; but where there is no gas the copper answers perfectly, and looks far better than anything else can possibly do.

Should red be objected to altogether—and I hope it may not be—here is another scheme of decoration; a dark sage-green paper, with a very little gold in it; a gold and green Japanese leather dado; all the paint one shade of sage-green, and a terra-cotta and white ceiling paper; terra-cotta serge or damask curtains edged with ball fringe, and a sage-green tablecloth with pale terra-cotta border. With the red decoration the curtains &c. can be a rather faint pinky terra-cotta; this produces an excellent effect, while in some rooms a dull blue would harmonise most excellently with the red. Let me mention one other trifle: always insist on that ghastly round in the centre of the ceiling, above the gaselier, being removed. Workmen always say this is impossible, just as they generally declare they cannot paint over graining; but it is quite an easy business, and makes an immense difference in the appearance of any room, and is another ‘little-thing’ the forgetting of which always annoys one, and spoils what might otherwise be a perfect whole.

I generally advise a dado in the dining-room, because of the rubbing the paper always receives from the backs of the chairs; but this said rubbing can be obviated by putting all round the room on the floor against the wainscot a two-inch border of wood. This does not show if painted to match the wainscot, and always keeps off a great deal of the wear and tear the wall receives. Yet sometimes, when the paper is a really handsome one, a dado can be dispensed with for some time; the placing of one when the paper itself has been up a few years having the effect often of making a new room of it, and doing away with the re-papering process; which is always such a terror by reason of the dilatoriness and utter worthlessness of many of the British workmen we are forced to employ, painters, as a rule, being the most unsatisfactory of all; and I am quite sure many young men who now starve genteelly as clerks, either in or out of place, could earn much more money, and be constantly employed too, if they would take to honest papering and painting, and carry out our ideas in our houses for us, giving us honest, sober work in return for honest pay. However, we must not sermonise more than we can help; and having suggested a few ideas for covering the walls and buying the most necessary articles of furniture, I now proceed to dwell upon those small extras which will make the room comfortable, should Edwin have to sit in it when he is at home and has letters to write; or should the bride-elect be obliged sometimes to make it her morning room, to save the fire, or the extra work caused by a third room to a servant. A simple window-seat, as in sketch 11, can often be placed in a suburban bow-windowed villa, and at once makes a cosy seat. This frame costs 7s., and can be made by a local carpenter.

The top is made of sacking, and takes four yards at about 1s. a yard; the front is made from a deep frill of cretonne lined with unbleached calico, and is sewn on rings (fig. 12). These are suspended on nails, and the whole of the top is cushioned with cretonne, cretonne cushions being sewn on rings and hung on the wall to make a back for these seats. The description of arrangement of curtains suitable for this will be found in the chapter on curtains; and I maintain that no girl or woman either need consider it a hardship if she have to spend her morning sewing or reading here, while she could write her necessary letters at the desk prepared for her husband, and which is a necessity in any house for a man who has accounts to keep and letters to write. Still, if Edwin is not a very much better specimen of a husband than the ordinary smoker of the period makes, Angelina will have to sit in her third room sometimes, for there is nothing more trying than an atmosphere of stale smoke, and I look forward to a time when men of the rising generation will be a little less selfish than they are at present in their indulgence in a habit that, so far as I can perceive, has not one merit to recommend it.

How often am I asked by girls how they can get rid of the disagreeable effects of smoke after dinner! They say—and very rightly too—that they really dread breakfast-time, and that their morning is poisoned for them by the indescribable odour that greets them when they come down refreshed from their night’s rest to take up their day’s work cheerfully; that it would be worse if Edwin smoked in the drawing-room, and they have no small room where they could allow him and his friends to work their wicked will, and that therefore they feel hopeless. And I cannot keep from wondering why men should smoke as they do; and thinking over this, and remembering how terrible it has been to me to come down to stale smoke, I should like to beg Edwin seriously to consider whether he need indulge in this habit in his own domicile, and whether the save of his after-dinner cigar would not conduce to his happiness as well as to Angelina’s comfort; and really I have small heart to describe how Edwin can have a comfortable corner in his dining-room when I feel convinced the more comfortable he is made the worse effect it will have on everything in any pretty room.

I often wonder if men ever reflect on what their smoke costs them—how many delightful books, pleasant journeys, pretty engravings and photographs, and, in fact, all sorts of pleasant and permanent belongings, fly off into thin air by means of those pipes and cigars that really seem part of a man at present, and, in fact, are far too often their first thoughts.

I am not speaking for myself, gentle reader. The atmosphere of smoke is absent from my own especial domicile, and is reserved for my atom of a conservatory, should an occasional spoiled friend come down and look miserable without his pipe or cigarette—for cigars I cannot have even there; but I am writing for all the young people who are beginning life, and who think they make their husbands happy by giving them carte blanche to do just ‘as they like in their own house.’

My dear girls, you cannot make a greater mistake with your husbands, and later on with your sons, than to wait upon them and give in to all their little lazinesses and selfishnesses at home. It may sound ridiculous, but it is a fact that old coats and slippers in the home circle mean manners to correspond; that bad manners often show a bad heart; and that a man is far more likely to care for the wife who exacts the small attentions that would have been lavished on the bride, than for her who opens the door for herself, rings the bell when he is in the room, and fetches things for him to save him steps that ought to be taken for her and not by her; and that boys who are allowed to bully and ‘fag’ their sisters and their mother are sure to make the selfish, inconsiderate husbands of which we hear so much nowadays.

And this great smoke question means a great deal too. It is a selfish, disagreeable habit, verily; and I can but hope that Edwin will think of this when in his pretty dining-room, and confine himself to the garden or conservatory with the door shut, even if he does not seriously consider how many pleasures for both vanish into smoke with the fumes of his post-prandial cigar; while the odours in which he condemns Angelina to begin her day would be done away with, and cheerfulness reign instead of dulness and a sense of nausea that are most trying to any one who does not like cigars.

Hoping that these words may have due effect, we will contemplate allowing our bridegroom to have a comfortable armchair in one corner of the room, and a big desk in another. The armchair, of course, is rather a serious item, and should really be made for the person who intends to sit in it. This naturally means an expenditure of from 8l. to 10l., according to the covering; so this may be done without until Edwin is older, if he cannot afford it. Now, in that case, I should recommend his buying one of those delightful low wicker-work chairs, which can be bought anywhere for 5s. or 6s. This can be painted to match the room, or ebonised with Aspinall’s lovely and invaluable enamel paints—paints that have a glaze upon them and wear beautifully, and can be applied at home, and it can be cushioned by any local upholsterer, or even by Angelina herself, if she be clever with her fingers. The best material for covering these chairs is undoubtedly a strong tapestry at about 5s. 6d. a yard. Maple has the best-designed tapestries for the money in London, and one should be carefully chosen to harmonise with the room; the cushion should be tied in its place, or sewn in its place, with very strong tapes or thread, and should be buttoned down. It takes two and a quarter yards double width material and four and a half single width to make a cushion for the sides and seat, and the seat cushion should be finished off with a frill two inches wide. The comfort of these chairs is much enhanced by the addition of a small square soft cushion to fill up the hollow in the centre and stuff into one’s back. These can be easily made either out of paper torn up and rolled into strips and then put into a piece of twilled cotton for a case, and a second case made from the material saved out of the chair covering itself, or small down cushions can be bought at Whiteley’s in Turkey-pattern materials which can be hidden in a covering like the chair, as suggested above, or—whisper this, please—the hair-cushions placed in the back of ladies’ skirts now can be utilised for stuffing these cushions to far more advantage than if they were retained in the position suggested by the dressmaker; and then the appearance of the chair is complete, with the addition of a Turkish embroidered antimacassar at 2s., which always makes any chair look nice, and even expensive (see Illustration 13). These chairs can be bought, enamelled any colour and cushioned complete, for 31s. 9d. at Colbourne’s, 82 Regent Street, W., made to my pattern.

If you have a more expensive chair, do not buy one with a straight back; comfortable as they look, they are no use in practice, and every chair should be rounded for comfort, even if our grandmothers would shake their heads over the decadence of a generation that requires round backs to their chairs. Then there should be solid square arms on which books can be placed, if we like to put one down for a few moments, or even a cup of tea allowed to stand there, should it be necessary. Mr. Smee made me such a chair—it was 8l. 18s. 6d., I think—and I would not part with it on any consideration. It is covered with a very beautifully designed tapestry, and is trimmed with a deep woollen fringe, knotted and headed with broad gimp, and is simply perfect; but he took an immense amount of trouble about it, and made it to suit me, going on the same plan as that on which the wicker chairs are formed, only making mine higher from the ground, the lowness of the wicker chairs being their only failing; and even this, of course, is no failing in the eyes of a great many of our younger brothers and sisters.