CHAPTER X.

CURTAINS, CARPETS, AND LIGHTING.

Of course, in writing on the subject of curtains, we must begin first by saying that a great deal depends upon the shape and size of the windows, for all these particulars have to be carefully considered before we start on any expedition to inspect and buy our material for our draperies; for if a window be small or high up it requires far less management than the large bow-windows that take so much thought, and, alas! so much material too. Then, as there are French windows to be arranged for, and, in fact, square windows as well, we have to spend much time and thought over how we shall arrange, so as to suit all, before we cast our eyes over cretonnes, damasks, plushes, and the thousand and one materials, all more or less suited to the purpose for which they were designed.

The ordinary window, with the two sashes and the square frame, is very easily managed, even supposing that one has to keep out the neighbours’ eyes as well as a certain amount of sunshine. The muslin curtains should be put up on rods like small stair-rods, fastened against the window frame top and bottom in such a way that they do not interfere with the free raising of the sash, which must open top and bottom; this arrangement--illustrated in my chapter on the dining-room--insures the curtains remaining in their place, and prevents them floating in and out on every dust-laden breeze that blows, while it leaves no long tail of draggled muslin to sweep the floor, and get torn and dirty almost before they have been up a week.

The best white curtains are undoubtedly made of soft clear muslin, edged and furthermore embellished by insertions of guipure lace--the insertion is put in a slip close to the edge, and washes beautifully--but those curtains, unless made at home, are undoubtedly expensive. Still, nothing looks like them, and if they are arranged on the rods in such a manner that the edges of the outside lace just touch, they form a complete screen, and yet hide nothing from the owner of the house, who can see from her windows comfortably without being spied over, and, being fixed, last clean really a very long time indeed. And then, if the thicker curtains are placed on a straight brass rod, as narrow as the weight they have to support will allow, no blinds are required, for the warm drapery draws straight over them, and either serves as a blind to keep out the light or a screen to keep out the draughts, and so does away with the expensive blind with its rollers, its cord eternally out of order, and its ugly effect from both inside and outside the house.

A good ‘book’ or Swiss ‘mull’ muslin costs about 10½_d._ a yard, the guipure edging and insertion about 1_s._ 6½_d._; therefore the cost of these curtains is easily calculated by any one who measures her own windows and sees what length and quantity of material is required for them. Bedroom windows look extremely nice if treated in a similar manner in the French checked muslin, such as the _bonnes_ use for their caps and aprons, and of which our Sunday summer frocks used to be made in our young days, and which costs 10½_d._ a yard. If this be used, the curtains must be edged with a two-inch goffered frill, which must invariably edge all the curtains that are not treated with lace edgings, for nothing looks worse than the hard line of a curtain that is neither frilled nor lace-trimmed.

Of the popularity of the soft and beautiful Madras muslins there is scarcely any necessity to speak, as it is now familiar to most of us; but despite its beauty and (in some cases) its cheapness, I must add a word of warning on the subject of Madras, especially addressed to our young friends with limited means, for the cheap sort of Madras does not wash satisfactorily, and should, therefore, be avoided by all those who have to study economy, and have not only to buy things, but to select them in such a manner that they shall last after their first visit to the wash-tub at the very least.

The cheap Madras washes into holes, and all the pretty colours vanish, and a limp rag returns to us instead of the charming curtains that gave such a style to the appearance of the outside of our house; and the expensive ones, too, are apt to ‘run’ in the washing, and are out of the purchasing power of any one whose means are really limited; for these cost from 6_s._ 9_d._ to 8_s._ 9_d._ a yard, and therefore become expensive items in our expenditure at once, although they contrast favourably with the fine lace and embroidered curtains sold ready to put up at 5_l._ or 6_l._ a pair, or at times even more than that. But ready-made curtains designed with large and marvellous patterns must not even enter a really artistic home. They mean nothing, can never be anything save vulgar and pretentious, and are therefore to be avoided; for if we are rich we can have the best Madras, the finest guipure and muslin; and if we are poor we can yet have our white muslin, either frilled or edged with guipure, as rich as our modest means will allow; or the valuable Mysore and artistic muslins at 9¾_d._ and 3¾_d._ a yard, which wash excellently if done at home--in water without soda and with a few drops of vinegar in to ‘set the colours,’ as the washerwomen say.

A bow-window, the orthodox suburban villa bow-window, is, I own, a very difficult subject to treat, but I have circumvented even that by an arrangement of curtains on rods managed as described above, and in the first-named window have two narrow white curtains meeting at the top of the window, and gradually sloping away until they are about five inches apart at the bottom; the wider centre sash is treated in the same manner with wider curtains, the plain edge of which meets the edge of the curtain that fits the narrow sash on both sides of the broader window; for the usual bow is made of a flat sash in the middle, between two narrow sashes that bow slightly; the muslin is ‘taut’, as sailors would say, and is always tidy, and by using these narrow _very_ cheap rods all expensive fitted and formed poles and valances are done away with, and a most expensive and vexatious item in our expenditure completely swept off our schedule of payments to be made. The muslin curtains neatly up, a thicker rod can be fixed in three portions, each portion separate and distinct, for the heavier curtains. Those in any dining-room can be made of several materials. Shoolbred had a beautiful gold figured damask, double width, at 4_s._ 9_d._, which looks like silk, though naturally it is nothing of the kind; this drapes beautifully and looks charming, as it falls into folds and never fades; it can be edged with a ball fringe to match, which adds a good deal to the expense, but looks better than anything else, or else by a frill, but this is a little heavy, as the material is thick. This material can be had in a beautiful pale blue and a good terra-cotta as well as in the yellow, but I have no experience of the wear of the two former colours, and therefore cannot tell whether they last as well and as satisfactorily as the yellow does. To make the window look really nice, you require one breadth hung down straight at the end of the first slip of window against the wall, edged all round the sides and bottom with ball fringe or the frill; then another breadth on the other side of the slip to pull halfway across the wider window to meet a third curtain hanging straight in the middle of the other division, and being met in its turn by a fourth, which, when undrawn, should hang straight against the wall in the same way that curtain number one does.

The artistic serges sold by Colbourne & Co., 82 Regent Street, at 1_s._ 11½_d._ a yard, and Stephen’s Sicilienne damasks at 7_s._ 9_d._ a yard, are excellent curtain materials also, as are the stamped jutes and corduroy serges sold for this purpose by Mr. Smee.

But, whatever the material, in no case should the curtains be draped, or tied up or chained as if they were wild beasts, with great gold or brass chains (truly the very ‘foolishest’ things that were ever invented for the purpose), and they should never come below the window sill or the dado line, save and except in the case of a French window opening to a garden or conservatory, when the white drapery should be fixed on rods to the frame of the door, and the warmer curtains should be draped so as to keep out the draughts and be drawn readily; and this is done by sewing them to large rings that run easily on a brass pole, which must be as small and unobtrusive as possible; and when not in use the curtains must be drawn close to the wall and tied back, if wished, with Liberty soft silk handkerchiefs--the 3_s._ 6_d._ size makes two of these ties--in a colour to harmonise or contrast with that employed in the new curtains themselves. These curtains must be about an inch longer than the length from the pole to the floor, and must rather more than touch the floor, because a French window means a draught to one’s toes, that can only be circumvented by longish curtains, and a thick mat, so placed as to be easily moved, should the window open into the room itself.

Roman sheetings are also excellent for curtains, and plush is the king of materials, if we could afford it; the shades of colour in the folds are perfect, and the tints in which plush is made are always lovely; but as we cannot afford that, we must turn our eyes away from such enchanting visions, and look out for a nice Mysore chintz for the drawing-room, which must be lined, to make it warmer and more durable, and trimmed with the goffered frill that always looks well in all washing materials; the frill need not be lined. For bedrooms, there is nothing better than the dark blue and white cretonne, the same both sides; or Burnett’s excellent ‘marguerite’ cretonnes, in different colours, at 9½_d._ a yard; the dark blue and white need not be lined unless the bedroom receive the very early sun, when a lining is necessary if blinds be done without; but I should make the curtains double, as the material is as cheap as any lining procurable, and looks far better than any self-colour could possibly look. These cretonnes wash most beautifully, and begin at 9_d._ a yard. The chairs, frill to the mantel-board, eider-down, and any bookcase edges should all be finished with the same style of cretonne, though, of course, any other harmonious colour can be introduced to avoid too much sameness. The chair covers should be loose, and edged with a frill, as also should be the eider-down cover; this spoils any room if kept in its Turkey-patterned material, and should always be put into a cretonne washable cover, as much for beauty as for health. But these details must be kept for another chapter, as they do not enter into the great subject of curtains.

It may sound ridiculous, but I here state boldly that I can invariably make a more than shrewd guess of the character of the folks who inhabit a house by noticing what sort of ideas they have on the subject of draperies; and I may safely say that I have never been mistaken. The carefully and prettily and tidily arranged curtains tell me at once of the pleasant folk I shall find inside; just as surely as the dirty, untidy muslin or the gorgeously patterned, expensive, and pretentious curtains warn me against the slattern, or the vulgarian with whom I have nothing in common, should I ever have the bad fortune to have to enter behind those warning marks; while the soft Madras or delicate lace indicate an artistic mistress with whom I shall, I know, spend many pleasant hours. This being the case, do not wonder, dear readers, that I lay much stress and write at great length on this momentous subject, for it is one on which almost volumes could be written; for while the inside of your houses only speak to your friends and relations, the outside tells a great deal to strangers, and either repels or attracts, according to the manner in which you arrange your windows.

Unless your windows are very small, as in sketch 16, never be without white curtains of some kind, for if you are the house resembles some one who has forgotten her cuffs and collar or white frillings, but if they are like the sketch, you cannot do better than use Pither’s old-gold-coloured, printed linen edged with ball fringe; this serves all purposes of blinds and curtains alike, and always looks artistic, while the windows are not obscured and stuffed up, as are those in most of our English houses.

And here let me say most emphatically that ordinary blinds are not necessary, and are never useful; if the house has very much sun, _inside_ blinds are no use at all; the heat that makes most town houses unendurable is caused by the sun striking down on the glass of the window, and to obviate this the glass itself must be covered _outside_. Our summer is but a short one at best, but if we cannot bear the sun we must put up _outside_ blinds, or hang grass mats over the glass outside; these are the only really necessary blinds; to say the least the others are unhealthy. The sun is the life-giver, after all, and he had better fade our curtains and our carpets than that the lack of his beams should fade our own and our children’s cheeks! This, too, is another reason why we should never buy very expensive curtains or carpets; fortunately hardly any of the materials I have spoken of cost much, while Kidderminster squares--my favourite matting and rugs--or even stained floors and rugs, are all within the powers of the humblest of us.

I myself prefer matting for a dining-room at 1_s._ 6_d._ a yard, and covered here and there with rugs, put down where the greatest amount of traffic may be expected; but this is expensive, if set against the pretty carpets in art colours, made at Kidderminster, and sold by the yard at about 3_s._ 6_d._ a yard, the colours of which are extremely good. And if we cannot afford matting in the dining-room, a carpet that would go very well with the room would be shades of very faint sage-green, with dashes of terra-cotta in. But I much prefer the matting, and should always advise this for any one who could afford it, and yet could not afford the Oriental carpet that is, of course, the carpet for a dining-room. The rugs range from 7_s._ 6_d._, but these are Scinde rugs, and do not wear very well. Liberty, Maple, and Shoolbred have all an excellent choice, but I think Maple’s rugs are the best for people with a small amount of money to spend; and there is this to consider about rugs, they can be shaken at least once a week and continually turned about, and when too shabby for downstairs they can be taken upstairs, finally dying an honourable death before the kitchen fire or by the bedsides of the maids. Still, much as I like matting, I must confess the total cost is more than three times the cost of a Kidderminster square, which in its turn can be taken up, shaken, and moved about, as, being square, there are no corners to consider, and no back and front and sides to think about either. But we must put carpet felt or paper-felt under our squares if we wish them to wear and to feel soft and pleasant under our feet; and it is as well to put down large sheets of brown paper before even the felt goes down. All this adds considerably to the wear of the carpet.

There is a curious habit in some parts of Canada of making a species of bed of hay under the carpet, and it gives a very pleasant feeling to any one walking thereon; of course soft, fine hay is chosen, and it is most carefully laid down, and evenly and tightly packed; and in a room on the basement floor, as so often rooms are situated in small suburban houses, it is a great comfort; it is very warm in winter and cool in summer, and if the hay-bed is made about twice a year, I believe it requires no further attention.

An old friend of mine who lived in poor circumstances in a stone-floor cottage in Dorsetshire, who had passed some years of her life in Canada, always stretched her carpet over such a bed, and I well remember how delightful her floor felt, and how she never suffered, as so many of her neighbours did, from rheumatism and other evils inseparable from the ordinary covering to a stone or brick floor. I have more than once recommended this in a basement kitchen or servants’ sitting-room, and never without hearing that it was pronounced a great and unfailing success and source of comfort to the domestics.

If, however, a Kidderminster square is chosen, the boards for about two feet from the wainscot must be stained a good brown shade: if the boards are pretty good, and do not require stopping with putty to keep out the draughts, as so many of our suburban houses require ‘stopping,’ owing to the shrinking of the green wood used, alas! for the purposes of floors, doors, and windows, Edwin or Angelina can well manage this themselves. Whiteley keeps Ryland’s stain ready prepared in a big tin jar, and with the right sort of brush this is soon put on; when dry it should be well and thoroughly polished with beeswax and turpentine, and if this is done weekly I am sure the floor will never require staining for many years; but if ‘stopping’ is necessary, the workmen employed can stain the floors too; for the extra charge will be but small, and it will save a back-ache, and insure the work being thoroughly and properly done.

These hints about carpets are perhaps a trifle prolix, but they will do for the whole of the house--of course varying the colours to suit the rooms, and being very careful in the selection of patterns. Mr. Morris has some of his very best designs manufactured in Kidderminster, so the cheap make of the mere carpet need not be sneered at; but we cannot afford Morris, much as we should like to do so, for his Kidderminsters are as costly as most people’s Brussels; and if we are careful, we can get nearly as pretty patterns elsewhere at one fourth the cost, but we must be _very_ careful, for there are some red carpets, some blue, and some a fearful nondescript hue, suggestive of the workhouse--I know not why--that would irretrievably and utterly spoil any room in which they were put; but there is a royal blue with paler blue flowers, or rather ‘fan-like things,’ that is perfect; this is, however, sold by the yard, and has to be made into a square, without a border, and just trimmed with a woollen fringe, which is procurable at Colbourne’s, 82 Regent Street, and which wears magnificently: I have had one down now for three years in a room that experiences a great deal of traffic, and it is at the moment of writing as good as ever it was, and is admired by every one who comes in; and the sage-green carpet mentioned before is also quite safe to suit almost any room. This is also sold by the yard, and has to have a woollen fringe too.

If the house have bow-windows, an extra square of carpet, or else a Scinde rug at 7_s._ 6_d._, can be laid down there; there is not much ‘traffic’ in a bow-window, and the rugs look nicer than anything, and wear quite a reasonable time in such a locality, and these can be easily replaced. A piece of the carpet itself always looks out of place somehow, and spoils any room.

For a really good carpet, I like a fine Oriental carpet, with a good deal of white in it, or a Wilton, or velvet pile; but I always like something cheaper myself, as I do not like _old_ carpets or old curtains. They must retain a certain amount of dust and dirt, and I therefore infinitely prefer either a good Kidderminster, or else the matting and rugs spoken of at first, which can be replaced when shabby without too great an effort for a moderate income. There are just one or two trifles that I should like to speak of here. Matting should be swept _one way_ regularly, and by a proper matting brush. It can be washed with soap and a little water, and it has a wonderful way of never collecting dust that is marvellous. Oriental rugs and carpets should be swept _one_ way only also; and the Kidderminster squares should be shaken often, but not continually swept; the shaking gets rid of the dirt, while sweeping wears them out much quicker than need be.

In connection with the carpets and curtains, we may just as well speak of the lighting of the sitting-rooms before passing away from them to the bedchambers. And here I must impress upon my readers never to have gas anywhere where they can avoid using it, and to pray heartily for that bright day to dawn when the electric light shall be within the reach of all, and when Mr. Swan tells us how to light our houses as perfectly as he has done his own; and I confess that when I recollect that charming abode, where fairies seem to superintend the lighting, so wonderfully is it managed, I feel consumed with rage and anger, to think that I was not born in a time when the electric light will be as much a matter of course as the present odious system of lighting by gas is; but as we are still unemancipated from the thraldom of gas, we must try to make the best of a bad job, and confine the enemy to where it can do least harm, and be of the most good at the same time.

An oil lamp in the hall is apt to give a gloomy impression to guests, and also is rather a difficult matter to manage. It is expensive, and is apt to get out of order at a critical moment; so I think gas must be adhered to here. A cathedral glass hanging lamp, square shape, and framed in brass, and fitted with an Argand burner, is as good a thing as one can possibly procure for gas, unless we select the more artistic beaten iron lamps sold by Strode and Co., of 48 Osnaburgh Street, W. The prices are about equal, I think, and quite a beautiful one can be bought for about 4_l._ It requires no cleaning beyond the ordinary cleaning, and gives a strong, steady light, the glass sides of the lantern or lamp presenting any flickering when the hall door is opened suddenly. I have occasionally seen a hall lighted from the sides, but I do not care for this, as it does not have the genial effect of the lighting from the top; but should this be preferred, a man at Whitechapel makes very charming side lanterns, of cathedral glass, that go round and almost cover in the gas bracket, thus preventing any danger of fire, and keeping away a very great deal of the heat and burnt atmosphere that make gas always so trying to any sensitive person. I think these lanterns are from 5_s._ to 10_s._ each, and they are, at all events, very artistic to look at.

Then there are beaten shields of brass, with the owner’s initials on, from whence protrude the gas bracket, also in brass, and there are, furthermore, those delightful revivals of the old hammered iron trade that were to be seen in the Old London street at the Inventions, and the use of which would almost reconcile me to burning gas. These iron brackets and lamps are expensive, quite small brackets costing 1_l._ 12_s._; but they are well worth the money if we have it to spend, because they are so nice to look at. In our sitting-rooms we should never for one moment allow ourselves to have gas. I always burn in a very large drawing-room two of Mortlock’s blue and white china lamps fitted with duplex burners. At first, when the fiat went forth that gas was tabooed, those lamps were the bane of my life. I had a most excellent housemaid in those days, who did her work most beautifully, but only in her own way and in none other. True to my principles of non-interference, I had allowed her this way of hers, because it was as good a one as could be wished for; but when it came to suddenly cutting off her precious privilege of lighting up the gas and drawing the curtains, I soon saw that war was before me, and felt that now or never was I to maintain my right to my lamps, did I prefer them to what the gas company of the tiny town I then lived in facetiously called gas; but that was an awful smelling compound, which burned with a feeble and ghastly blue flame on weekdays, and which generally failed us altogether when Sunday meant gas in the church. Of course then we had comparatively to go without, as _that_ gas would not be in church and our houses at the same time, and our lives bid fair to be & misery to us in the long December afternoons and evenings; when my good genius said ‘Lamps,’ and I then invested in those I still have, rejoiced to think we could see to read now, whether the gracious gas company deigned to allow us any gas (?) or no.

I had received full directions with the lamps, and knew exactly what to do with them. They were guaranteed not to smell, my one dread, and I was accordingly armed at every point to meet Emily’s objections. She had work enough. Well, beyond cutting the wicks and refilling the brass cups, there was no addition; so she took them off with a flounce and a bang into her own particular sanctum, and looked like a walking volcano for the rest of the day. However, to make a long story short, those lamps were made to behave as if they were possessed by the very spirit of mischief. They smelt, they flared, they smoked, they sang a blood-curdling little song I feared meant explosions; but insisting on their being taken out of the room night after night and brought back until they did burn finally conquered Emily, and as she saw I meant to have my lamps she gave in, and they now never smell, and never give me a moment’s trouble.

I mention all this to guide those young people who are apt to be treated as I was, and who, knowing paraffin _does smell_, may perhaps be inclined to give in and return to gas, because their servant declares she cannot manage the ‘dratted thing.’ The smell comes from some of the oil having been dropped on the brass part of the lamp, which gets heated, and, of course, smells abominably, and if the lamp be dull it is because the poor thing is clogged with oil and literally cannot manage to breathe; then drop the brass parts of the lamp, minus the wick, of course, into some clean water, and boil them as you would an egg over the fire. This loosens and gets away all the stale oil, which need never be there if the housemaid is really careful, and your lamp once more burns as brightly as ever it did. I use no screens over my lamps, as I put them behind me in such a manner that the light falls only on my book, and, of course, on the books and work of those who may also be in the room; but charming screens can be made by taking a sheet of tissue paper in such a manner in the centre that you can pass it rapidly up and down through your hands until it is a mass of crinkles and waves; then tear off the piece you have been holding and you have a pale pink wavy-looking screen that is charming, and costs the fraction of a farthing. The Germans also make beautiful lamp screens by cutting out scalloped pieces of tissue paper, on which are placed real leaves and coloured grasses. These are covered by another piece of tissue paper gummed lightly round the edges, and the effect of these when nicely arranged is really positively beautiful. About five of these scalloped pieces of tissue paper make one shade, and they are tied together with very narrow ribbon bows at the top, which allows of their being regulated to the size of the lamp. And yet another still more beautiful shade can be made by buying a wire frame made on purpose at Whiteley’s, and covering all the divisions with thin blue silk, the palest shade possible. Each division should be covered in such a way that the stitches do not show. Round the edge sew a two-inch silk fringe, and arrange fluffy ruches of the silk down each rib and round the edge of the lamp-shade. This is not very expensive, and is the best shade possible. By the way, red and yellow shades should always be avoided; the first makes every one look like apoplectic fits, and the second as if jaundice were imminent; and don’t ever buy the abominations of shades that are meant for owls’ heads; they are monstrosities to be classed with the Mahdi notepaper and other vulgarisms of the day. Other nice occasional lamps are the very cheap brass lamps sold at 7_s._ 6_d._ and 10_s._ 6_d._ each. I do not think these good enough to read by, but they are most useful for ordinary use at dinner or to write a note by, and are also useful to put back on the buffets that do duty for sideboards in my dining-room, to give a little more light when we have extra folk to dinner, and I use my candelabra for lighting the larger table, but for all everyday use at table those brass lamps are quite enough, and, being easily lighted and kept clean, are really invaluable.

One is obliged to have gas in rooms where there are children, because candles and lamps are so easily knocked over, and it is useful, too, in bedrooms where a sudden light may be required, but it is a most unhealthy, destructive thing, and, as I said before, I look forward to Mr. Swan doing as much for us as he has done for himself.

If my readers--any of them--should doubt for one moment the truth of what I have said about the relative values of lamps and gas, let them for the next six months give the two things a fair trial in two separate rooms in the same house; let them look at the ceilings in those rooms, examine the picture-cords, and the relative cleanliness of the blinds and draperies, and let them--no; they, poor things, will need no examination. I was going to add, let them examine, too, their plants; but in one of those rooms there will be none left to examine, for they will be dead as surely as ever they were plants at all. Half the weary headaches and lassitude we have all felt at times come from this pernicious enemy; and there are few doctors whose first directions to an invalid’s nurse do not contain emphatic orders to lower the gas and, in fact, to substitute candles for it as soon as possible; but if bedroom candles are used, they should never be allowed without a glass shield--sold, I think, by Messrs. Field and Co., the nightlight people. This insures that the carpets are free from being dropped upon by the wax or composite, and furthermore insures a certain amount of safety from fire, which is a vast consideration, for a draught, a floating curtain, and a bare unguarded candle may often result in a serious calamity, for, even if much damage by fire is not done, a serious fright may be given to some who are ill able to bear anything of the kind. Gas should never be in servants’ bedrooms--the best of them cannot help burning it to waste; neither should they be allowed candles--they are careless, the very best of them; and I always provide my maidens with tiny paraffin lamps, costing 6_d._, which I can only buy in a Dorsetshire town (Messrs. A. and A. Drew, Wareham, Dorset, is the correct address)--even Whiteley doesn’t keep them. These have a tiny brass cap that puts out the light, and are not in any way dangerous, because there is nothing to spill, the sponge and wick inside absorbing all the oil, and if they are knocked over they are so small the light pops out at once; yet there is light enough to dress by, if not to read novels in bed by, and the maids themselves prefer these small lamps to anything else.

In conclusion, remember that crystal A 1 oil, at 10_d._ the gallon, is the best, most economical oil to burn. It should be had in in a five-gallon tin, which fills up the small tins from whence the lamps are filled in their turn, which _must be filled by daylight_, and recollect also that china lamps are much the cleanest, and least likely to smell with the most careless housemaid, who must always be made to take her lamps out of the room over and over again; the mistress never _once_ overlooking a smoking, dirty, or odoriferous lamp, until perfection is attained. That this is possible--ay, and easy--to obtain I have, I hope, demonstrated to all of my readers by the before-mentioned anecdote. If, however, the housemaid is really a good one, I should prefer to use Strode’s beautiful copper and beaten iron lamps, with tinted glasses for shades; or else with pale blue silk shades, stretched between copper ribs that give a wonderfully artistic look to any room. Benson, who sells his wares at Smee’s and Liberty’s, designs perfect lamps also, and all these should be seen by the intending purchaser before finally deciding which to buy. Again I say, never do your shopping in a hurry: if you do, you are sure to see something you like better--in the next street may be, and, oh! agony, at half the price!