Notwithstanding there are some points in favor of the old reliable kerosene lamp, even when put in the scale with other illuminants, few people of the younger generation regard it as other than something to be endured. In view of the facts that an oil lamp requires a great deal of attention, usually leaves its trail of oil and smoke, is ill-smelling, disagreeably hot in summer, and always somewhat dangerous, it is strange that those who cling to it as to a fetich are usually the ones who have longest struggled with its imperfections. The pretext for this conservatism, whether it be spoken or reserved, is economy. If we are of this class, we may be shocked to discover that, after all, kerosene lighting is really no cheaper than gas or electric light, if sufficient illumination is afforded, and insufficient lighting is surely ill-judged economy.
Few communities of respectable size are now without gas or electricity, and even in the country the latter is almost everywhere obtainable. If not, an individual gas plant, of which there are several makes, may be installed at a moderate cost. Properly placed, such a plant is safe and easily regulated and will furnish light for somewhat less than the usual charge of the gas companies.
Gas has never fully supplanted kerosene, even where it is readily obtained. Why this is true we need not pause to discuss; perhaps a fairly well-founded suspicion of the meter has had something to do with it. But certainly no one building a house in these days would fail to pipe it for gas if the supply were at hand, even if it were to be used only for kitchen fuel. Gas has its virtues as an illuminant also, and is favored by many on account of the softness of the light.
But while gas is preferable to kerosene, electricity is with equal certainty preferable to gas. It is more adaptable, is in many places quite as reasonable in cost, and is cleaner and safer. In numerous country communities where gas is not to be had electricity is available, as frequently a large region embracing several towns is supplied from a single generating plant.
Gas is subject to fluctuations in quality, sometimes becoming quite dangerous in its effect upon the atmosphere. Water gas, which is very generally manufactured, is said to carry four or five times as much carbon monoxide per unit of bulk as retort gas. It has for the hemoglobin of the blood four hundred times the affinity of oxygen, and a proportion of only two tenths of one per cent may produce heart derangement. While we are wondering that we are alive in the face of such dreadful facts, we may note further that gas is rather variable in its qualities as an illuminant. We have mentioned the suspicious gas meter, whose vagaries doubtless have caused more virtuous indignation with less impression upon its object than anything ever devised. An open flame is always a menace; and then there is the burnt match. Most housekeepers, I am sure, would testify to their belief that matches were not made in heaven. Is there anything that so persistently defies the effort for tidiness as the charred remains of a match, invariably ignited elsewhere than on the sandpaper conspicuously provided, and more likely to be tossed upon the floor or laid upon the mahogany table than to find its way into the receptacles that yearn for it?
For cooking, however, gas must still be a main dependence, and for this reason, as well as to provide for remote emergencies, the house should be piped for gas. At least it should be brought into the house, even if the piping is not continued farther than the kitchen.
In seeking to secure sufficient light we often go to the extreme of providing a glare that is trying to the eyes and would test the beauty of the loveliest complexion that ever charmed in the revealing light of day. We go further, mayhap, and concentrate the glare upon the center of the room, with a shade of bright green which gives an unearthly but not a heavenly cast to all the unfortunate humans who come under its belying influence.
Objection is sometimes made to electric light that it is too powerful, and that it is difficult to modify and control. This impression is due to the tendency of which we have spoken—the working out of the thought that proper lighting is a question of quantity. For some persons the ideal arrangement would seem to be a searchlight at each corner of the room, with a few arc lights suspended from a mirrored ceiling.
Electric light, to furnish the most agreeable effects, must be softened and properly diffused. If the light units that so perfectly illumine a room during the day were concentrated they would make a blinding glare, but diffused they are properly tempered to the eye. The common thought seems to be to put all the lights of the living room in the center, and to make them so powerful that they will penetrate every corner of the room and make it "light as day." In consequence the center is overlighted, and instead of a similitude of daylight we have unreality.
For the dining-room and library table some form of drop light is essential. There are arrangements that will transform the banquet or student lamp into an electric drop light, or the special outfits for this use may be had in some very artistic designs. For general lighting, wall sconces, lanterns, or brackets are preferable. Some of these are very beautiful, though there is a tendency to overelaboration. Design, of course, should be in keeping with the general decoration and outfitting of the room. Instead of four sixteen-candle-power lights in a center chandelier, eight of eight-candle power will "spread" the illumination better and add little to the expense, except for fixtures. In beamed ceilings which are not too high, the effect of lights placed upon the beams is pleasing, though the effect upon the monthly bill may not have the same aspect. Electric lamps at the sides should be at a fair height and throw their light downward, instead of wasting it upon the ceiling.
The pretty lanterns of antique design are expensive, the simplest sort costing $4 or $5 apiece. There are numerous artistic brackets, however, that may be had for smaller amounts. Bulbs are made in all sorts of shapes to fit recesses or for special purposes, and the designs in shades and candelabra are legion.
Electricity's strong card is its adaptability. It can go wherever a wire may be carried, and into many places where gas or oil lights would not be safe or practical. The only thing lacking is to make it wireless, and perhaps invention sooner or later will be equal to that demand. Early installations were rather carelessly made, but municipal and underwriters' rules are now so strict that practically all danger of fire has been eliminated. The householder in the country should make sure that the underwriters' prescriptions are fully observed, as his insurance may be affected. In the city, official inspection usually guarantees correct wiring.
Probably only in the hall, dining room, and living room will we be greatly concerned with the decorative phase of lighting. Elsewhere the question is largely one of practical use, though considerations of taste are not to be neglected. Careful study should be given to the adaptation of lighting to the future uses of the rooms. This will perhaps avoid the use later of unsightly extension cord, though this avoidance can scarcely be made complete.
A very useful light may be provided for the veranda, just outside the door, illuminating the front steps and path to the sidewalk. This light may be turned off and on by a switch key inside the door. It is particularly comforting when some stranger rings the doorbell late at night and one does not feel overpleased to be called upon to open the door to an invisible person. Other switch arrangements make it possible to turn on the upper hall lights from below, or the lower hall lights from above, and the lights in each room from the hall. When there are unseemly noises downstairs in the wee sma' hours it is much more agreeable to gaze over the balustrade into a bright hall than to go prowling about in the darkness for the bulb or gas jet, with the chance of grasping a burglar instead. Some burglars are very sensitive about familiarities on the part of strangers, and it is always better to permit them to depart in a good humor. The basement lighting, too, should be regulated from above, and the dark corners should be well looked after. At best, the basement is a breeder of trouble. If the light is in the center, and must be turned off at the bulb, the return to the stairway from the nocturnal visit to the furnace is likely to be productive of bruised shins and objurgative English; if the light operates from above, one either forgets to turn it off and leaves it to burn all night, or becomes uncertain about it just as he is beginning to doze off, necessitating a scramble downstairs to make sure. Perhaps it would be well to have a choice of systems.
Some houses have been so wired that one can illuminate every room from the hall or from the master's bedroom. This necessitates complicated wiring and will not be found necessary by most of us. Neither will we desire to spend our hardly won cash in wiring our four-poster bed for reading lights, or to put lights under the dining table for use in searching for the lost articles that always by some instinct seek the darkest spots in the room. If there be a barn or shed on the lot, an extension carried there will be found convenient and comparatively inexpensive. In the kitchen and pantries the lights should be considered in detail so that all the various operations may be served. Shadowed sinks and ranges and dark pantries are not necessary where there is electric light.
In halls, closets, and bathroom lower-power lamps, or the "hylo," which may be alternated from one- to sixteen-candle power, will prove an economy. The "hylo" is also useful in bedrooms where children are put to sleep, affording sufficient light to daunt the hobgoblins without discouraging the approach of the sandman. Some persons cannot sleep without a light; for them, and for the sick room, the low-power light is eminently preferable to the best of oil lamps.
There are numerous conveniences to be operated by electricity, such as chafing dishes ($13.50), flat irons ($3.75 up), curling-iron heaters ($2.25 up), electric combs for drying hair ($4), heating pads, in lieu of hot-water bags ($5), and many articles for the kitchen. These are operated from flush receptacles in baseboards or under rugs, or from the ordinary light sockets.
There is only one efficient and healthful method of heating a house, and that is with a hot-air furnace. I have that on the authority of a man who sells hot-air furnaces, and he ought to know.
Substitute "steam or hot water" for "hot-air furnace," and we have the assurance of the man across the way who sells boilers and radiators.
The beauty of it is that each proves his case to one's entire satisfaction—not only that his own system is a marvel of perfection, but that the other systems are dangerous to health and breeders of unhappiness and really ought (though he wouldn't like to say so) to be prohibited by law.
So we shall have to decide the question for ourselves. If we err, we can still abuse the dealer, or the architect, or the contractor, for letting us make a mistake.
The hot-air furnace costs least to install. (We leave stoves out of consideration.) It is also supposed to be easiest to manage. That, in a sense, is true. A good furnace will act pretty well even under indifferent direction; a bad one cannot be made much worse by the greatest of stupidity.
However, the average person can run the average furnace with a fair degree of satisfaction to the household, if not to himself. For a house of six to eight rooms the furnace may be considered an efficient means of heating. It requires more fuel than some other apparatus, but there are compensations.
Since ventilation and heating are inevitably associated, the argument that the furnace provides for ventilation is a strong one. If the air is taken from outdoors, passed over the radiating surface into the rooms, and then sent on its way, something like perfect ventilation is assured. If the air is simply taken from the basement—a poor place to go for air—heated, passed through the rooms, returned, and heated over again, we may well pray to be delivered from such "ventilation." The success of the furnace depends not upon ability to keep up a rousing fire but upon a proper regulation of air currents. Many a first-class furnace, properly installed, fails to work satisfactorily because the principle of heating is not understood. Even with the best of knowledge, the air is hard to regulate, and the very principle that gives the furnace its standing as a ventilator must prevent it from being a perfect heater.
Unless some artificial moisture is provided, not only will the air be too dry for comfort and health, but an excessive degree of heat must be attained in order to warm the rooms, thus increasing the consumption of coal. A water pan is usually provided in the furnace, but too often it is neglected.
If any mistake in selection of size is to be made, it should be in favor of excess. Most authorities urge the choice of at least a size above that indicated by the heating area. A chimney with suitable draught is imperative. The furnace should be placed in a central location and should be set sufficiently low to permit the essential rise of the heat ducts. If the basement is low the furnace should be depressed. While the heat conveyors should not ascend directly from the furnace, they should not be carried any farther than necessary in a horizontal position. The velocity of heat is diminished in carrying it horizontally, increased vertically. Crooks and turns add to the friction and decrease heating power. Therefore the pipes should be as short and direct as possible. It is not necessary to carry the register to a window on the farther side of the room, say some authorities, as the warm air rises to the ceiling anyway, and the greater length of carry involves a loss in warmth.
Pipes for the first floor should he large. Those for the upper rooms, having a longer vertical range, may be smaller. All the pipes should be double, with an inch air space between, as a protection against fire. Asbestos paper on a single pipe is not regarded as a sufficient precaution, as it is easily torn and quickly wears out.
There are arguments in favor of side-wall registers. They save floor space and obviate some dust. On the other hand, they are not quite so effective in heating as the other sort, since the pipes for floor registers may be of larger diameter and as a rule require fewer bends. Each register should have a separate pipe from the furnace. Where direct heat is not desired, a register opening in the ceiling of a downstairs room will sometimes carry enough heat to the upper chamber to make it comfortable for sleeping purposes.
Since furnace efficiency is largely dependent upon air control, a strong wind sometimes makes it difficult to heat portions of the house. To meet this emergency there is a combination hot-air and hot-water heater which supplies radiators on the upper floors, or elsewhere if desired. The additional cost is practically all in the installation, as the same fire furnishes both forms of heat.
For an eight-room house or smaller, a first-class steel-plate furnace, securely sealed against the escape of gas and smoke, costs free on board about $150. Each two rooms additional raises the price about $25. Other furnaces may be had as low as $50. Cost of tin work, brick setting, etc., depends upon locality.
Hot water and steam heat cost more for installation, but have many advantages over the furnace. Their chief drawbacks are the space usurped by radiators, lack of ventilation, and the possibility of an occasional breakdown. The ingenuity of the makers, however, is partly overcoming these difficulties, mainly by the device called the indirect system.
We need not fret ourselves here with a technical elucidation of either form of heating. We may, however, consider some of the claims made for hot water, which is apparently coming to be considered the preferable arrangement for dwelling houses. There is not a great deal of difference between the essential features of steam and hot-water systems.
It is declared that water will absorb more heat than any other substance, hence will take from the boiler practically all the heat produced in the combustion of fuel. As the temperature of the water is automatically controlled, the atmosphere of the rooms may be kept at the desired degree, the presence of radiators in each room, all of the same temperature, giving an even heat over the entire house.
There can be no sudden drop in temperature, as the water in the pipes continues to distribute warmth even after the fire has been checked or has been allowed to go out. The fuel required for an ordinary stove, it is asserted, will warm an entire house with hot water. An engineer is not required. Inexperienced persons have no difficulty in operating the ordinary boiler, and there is no danger whatever, because, the makers adduce, for steam heat the maximum pressure is about five pounds, while with hot water there is practically no pressure at all. Very little water is used, and a connection with the street water system is not imperative, though convenient.
Indirect heating is provided by passing air over radiators attached to the ceiling of the basement, thence to the upper rooms. In the "direct-indirect" system the radiators are placed in the partition walls of the rooms they are to heat, the cold air being brought through a duct and, being heated, passing into the rooms. These two systems are economical of space and afford provision for excellent ventilation. They are considerably more expensive, however, than the direct system, which involves exposed radiators.
Radiators are now constructed in many different forms, to fit under windows, in corners, in fireplaces, under cabinets, and so on. Much effort has been directed also toward relieving their painful ugliness, and if of a neat design appropriately colored they need not be a serious blot upon the decorative scheme of a room.
Radiators, in the direct system, should be placed far enough from the walls to permit free circulation over the heating surfaces, and should not be directly covered at the top. Ordinarily there are good reasons for putting them near the more exposed places, such as windows and outer doors. As both steam and hot water furnish a dry heat, provision should be made in every room for evaporation of water.
With no prejudice against good furnaces, it may be said that hot water apparently affords the greatest possibilities for comfort and regularity of heating, and that there are usually no reasons why it cannot be utilized in country houses. A hot-water installation is likely to cost twice as much as a furnace, but if we are to live in the house it is better to make our estimates cover ten or twenty years rather than to bear too strongly on first costs.
The following table, while it must not be taken as fully conclusive, gives at least a basis of consideration:
* Makers' statement.
These comparisons are probably, on the whole, somewhat unfair to the high-grade furnace.
Much of good sense and more that is nonsensical has been written about furniture. Observation tends to justify belief that in general effect the nonsense has proved more potent than its antithesis.
Originality has been preached, and we have seen the result in abnormalities that conform to no conception of artistic or practical quality ever recognized. Antique models have been glorified, with a sequence of puny, spiritless imitations. Simplicity has been extolled, and we find the word interpreted in clumsiness and crudity. Delicacy of outline has been urged, and we triumph in the further accomplishments of flimsiness and hopeless triviality.
And yet through all that has been preached, through all that has been executed, there runs a vein of truth. Each age should express itself, not merely the thought of centuries past; still, it can expect to do little more than take from antecedent cycles those features that will best serve the present, adding an original touch here and there. So far, then, as we find in the furniture of the Georgian period, or of Louis Quinze, or even of the ancient Greeks, such suggestions as will help us to live this twentieth-century life more comfortably and agreeably, we may with good conscience borrow or imitate.
Some "very eminent authorities" assure us that many of the objects of our admiration in museums and in private collections are remnants of the furnishings of the common households of the olden times. If the breadth of knowledge of the "eminent authorities" is indicated by this assertion, they must have touched only the high places in history, so far as it records social conditions. The truth is that the household appurtenances which have survived to our time are mostly those of the few and not of the many, of the palace and mansion and not of the cot. These articles were costly then and they would be costly now, and very often quite as useless as costly. They were not found in the cottage of the older days, and they do not belong in the cottages of the present.
Nevertheless, many of these old designs exemplify the elementary essentials of furniture—good materials, gracefulness, and thorough workmanship. These are qualities that are to be sought for the cottage as well as for the mansion; and while they may add to the purchase cost of the separate articles, it is possible to secure them at no great increase for the whole over the cheaper goods, provided we guard against the common error in housefurnishing—overpurchasing.
Good examples of Chippendale and old walnut.[Illustration: Good examples of Chippendale and old walnut.]
Good examples of Chippendale and old walnut.[Illustration: Good examples of Chippendale and old walnut.]
What is known in America as the arts and crafts movement has, in its sincere developments, sought to adapt the better qualities of the old designs of furniture to the demands of modern conditions, artistic and practical. Not always, however, has it been possible to distinguish between the honest effort to enforce a better standard and the various forms of charlatanry under which clumsy and unsightly creations have been and are being worked off upon an ingenuous public at prices proportioned to their degrees of ugliness. In colonial times many an humble carpenter vainly scratched his noggin as he puzzled over the hopeless problem of duplicating with rude tools and scant skill the handiwork that graced the lordly mansions of merrie England; to-day some wight who can scarcely distinguish a jackplane from a saw-buck essays to "express himself" (at our expense) in furniture, repeating all the gaucheries that the colonial carpenter could not avoid making.
Others have set themselves to reproducing the so-called mission furniture which the good priests of early California would have rejoiced to exchange for the convenient modern furniture at which the faddist sniffs. But most of us who stop to think, realize that there is no magic virtue in antiquity of itself. The average man, at least, cannot delude himself into the belief that there is comfort to be found in a great deal of the harsh-angled stuff paraded as artistic.
Let us not be understood, however, as hinting that artistic qualities must be disregarded. Though furniture should not be chosen for its beauty or associations alone, it must not be considered at all if beauty is absent.
The first consideration of the home is comfort. Let no one dispute that fact. But there is such a thing as being aesthetically as well as physically comfortable. Conceptions of physical comfort differ with individuals, but are usually well defined; some of us actually have no conception whatever of aesthetic comfort. That is no reason why we should not seek it. Probably we had a very faint idea of what good music or good painting was like until we came to an acquaintance with the masters; but we are surely not sorry to have progressed in experience and feeling. And so it is that though we may not feel specially urged to insist upon tasteful surroundings, the higher instincts within us that persuade us to make the most of ourselves demand that we shall not be content with mere physical comfort. Therefore we may need to look a bit beyond our definite inward aspirations, and we should not disdain to follow others so far as they adhere to certain well-authenticated canons of good taste.
Study of the older models of furniture is bound to prove suggestive, and it is better to secure from the library or bookseller a book by some authority than to depend upon dealers' catalogues, which are not always edifying. English models affecting present-day outfitting date back as far as the Elizabethan period, approximately 1558-1603. Following there came the Early Jacobean, the Early Queen Anne, and the Georgian. The last includes the work of Chippendale, Heppelwhite, Sheraton, and the Adams, all of whom executed some beautiful designs. The so-called colonial furniture belongs also to the Georgian period, as does the "Debased Empire," corresponding to or following the Empire styles in France. In the latter country the periods of vogue are known as Francis Premier, Henri Deux, Henri Quatre, Louis Treize, Louis Quatorze, Louis Quinze, and Louis Seize. Under the designation of the "Quaint style" W. Davis Benn groups the "Liberty," Morris, and arts and crafts designs. Mr. Benn's "Styles in Furniture" will be found helpful in both text and illustration to those who would learn to distinguish between the products of the various periods.
A Chippendale secretary.[Illustration: A Chippendale secretary.]
A Chippendale secretary.[Illustration: A Chippendale secretary.]
Mahogany and oak are the best materials for furniture. The former is cleverly imitated in a mahoganized birch, which presents a pleasing appearance and sometimes deceives those who are not familiar with the beautiful rich tones of the genuine article. Mahogany adapts itself to almost any sensible style of interior decoration, is likely to be of careful manufacture, and is almost invariably cherished for its beauty. Like other highly finished woods it takes on a bluish tint in damp weather, and if not well protected, will demand attention more frequently than other materials. But if its purchase can be afforded the care given it will scarcely be begrudged. The eggshell (dull) finish requires less attention than the higher polish.
Next in degree to mahogany, oak in the golden, weathered, or fumed effect is handsome and durable, while it is somewhat less expensive. The moment one drops below genuine mahogany, however, a wary eye must be kept upon construction. There are shifts innumerable to make cheap furniture that has an alluring appearance, and the variety of design in the moderate-priced materials will lead to confusion for those who do not exert a Spartan discrimination.
To insure satisfaction there must first of all be substantiality—a quality which affects both comfort and appearance. A chair may be beautiful, it may be comfortable, at the time of purchase, but if it be not substantial its glories will soon depart. A superficial view cannot be conclusive. The carefully made article built upon slender lines is often quite as strong as a more rugged creation hastily put together. The chair that is properly constructed may be almost as solid as if it were of one piece, and still not require a block and tackle to move it. The strongest article is made entirely of wood, and we find some of the old models so sturdily built that no rounds were required between the legs. In chiffoniers, dressers, or side-boards a handsome exterior should not blind us to cheaply constructed drawers. The latter should be of strong material, properly fitted, and well sealed. There need be no sagging, jamming, or accumulation of dust in drawers that are well constructed.
California, with its pretty little bungalows, not only has pointed out to us the possibility of living satisfactorily in a small number of rooms, but has shown us something in the way of simple furnishings. Not until we see what may be "done without" do we realize how much that is superfluous crowds our floors.
A pretty good rule is to test everything first by its usefulness; if it is not useful, we may dispense with its purchase. Even at that, it may be necessary to demand that the article shall be not only useful but absolutely indispensable, for between the beguiling advertisement and the crafty salesman, almost anything that is manufactured may be proved necessary. At the best we shall probably purchase a-plenty, and the question of when a house reaches the point of overfurnishing is a difficult one to settle. Let one of us, for instance, venture at midnight into a dark room—be the apartment ever so large—with nothing but a rocker in it, and the impression may be gained that the place has been turned into a furniture warehouse. And some persons—none of us, to be sure!—are never happy while any of the floor or wall space is unoccupied. So the world goes. But if nine out of ten persons bought only what they could not do without, what they did purchase could be of a great deal better quality.
No bit of furniture should be purchased for which there is not a suitable place in the house. A piece may be very attractive in the salesroom, and its practical qualities may appear irresistible, while on our own floors it may be perfectly incongruous and perhaps, on account of its enforced location, almost useless.
If for no other reason, we should go slow with our purchases because we cannot know the real needs of our home until we have lived in it. Experience will make some articles superfluous and substitute what we had not thought to want. There should be a regular saving fund or appropriation for keeping up the house fittings, and usually it is found that this fund grows more steadily if we have some definite purchases in view. Leave some things to be "saved up for"; there will be less likelihood then of your being included in that large class to which the newspaper "small ads" appeal—"those who wish to trade what they don't want for what they do want."
In a hall of the simpler sort the only requirements are a high-backed chair or settee, a table forcartes de visite, an umbrella receptacle, and a mirror wall hanger with hooks for the use of guests. The time-honored halltree is no more, and long may it rest in peace. If there had been no other reasons for its passing, its abuse in the average household made it an eyesore. Intended only for the convenience of the transient guest, its hooks were usually preëmpted by the entire outer wardrobe of the family. A good plan is to have a coat closet built in, under the stairway or elsewhere near the place of egress, leaving the few inconspicuous hooks in the hall to afford ample provision for visitors. An appropriation of $50 to $100 will fit up a small hall very satisfactorily. A pretty hanging lantern of hammered copper, with open bottom and globe of opalescent glass, will add more than its cost of $12.50 to the good impression the hall is to make upon those it receives.
Some good folk would banish the rocker unceremoniously from the living room, and we might not miss it so much as we think. It is the adaptability of the rocker to comforting positions, rather than a love of rocking, that endears the chair to the majority, and when the same qualities are found in the reclining or easy chair we can well spare the projections that menace skirts and polished furniture, not to speak of the space they take up.
As a general thing it is the man of the house whose comfort is most sedulously looked after. For him the easy chair, the slippers, the reading lamp, the smoking outfit, the house jacket, the evening paper. This fact is mentioned in no carping spirit. Far be it from one of the less worthy sex to quarrel with the fate that has been ordained for us by our helpmeets; the latter should not be deprived of a whit of the joy that comes from viewing the lord of the household agreeably situated, and in that blissful state which breeds a kindly spirit toward all human kind, including milliners and ladies' tailors.
But too frequently the mistress of the household is supposed to pick up her comfort at odd times, or more likely there isn't any supposition at all. For her, for the master, and for the other members of the family, there must be a personal interest in the living room, and this is best represented by the most comfortable chair to be had. As persons are built of different heights and breadths, so the chairs should be. While the slender chap can snuggle down in the most capacious easy chair, the stout lady may be embarrassed when she finds the one single seat at hand proffering only a scanty breadth. One may well provide for these contingencies, for of course it is not always possible to select our acquaintances in accordance with the capacity of our furniture. Heights, too, should be varied somewhat, though it must be confessed that the joy of life (for others) is much increased by the sight of a six-foot (tall) gentleman of dignity gradually unfolding himself from the chair that was purchased for the particular use of Gwendolyn Ermyntrude, aged six.