Chapter 16

OLD PARLOR MADE BEAUTIFUL (MODERNIZED).

When John Landis came into possession of "Clear Spring" Farm, where his mother had lived during her lifetime, she having inherited it from her father, the rooms of the old farm house were filled with quaint, old-fashioned furniture of every description. "Aunt Sarah," on coming to the farm to live, had given a personal touch and cheery, homelike look to every room in the house, with one exception, the large, gloomy, old-fashioned parlor, which was cold, cheerless and damp. She confessed to Mary she always felt as if John's dead-and-gone ancestors' ghostly presences inhabited the silent room. The windows were seldom opened to allow a ray of sunlight to penetrate the dusk with which the room was always enveloped, except when the regular weekly sweeping day arrived; when, after being carefully swept and dusted, it was promptly closed. A room every one avoided, Aunt Sarah was very particular about always having fresh air and sunlight in every other part of the house but his one room. The old fireplace had been boarded up many years before Aunt Sarah's advent to the farm, so it could not be used. One day Mary noticed, while dusting the room (after it had been given a thorough sweeping by Sibylla, Aunt Sarah's one maid servant), that the small, many-paned windows facing the East, at one end of the parlor, when opened, let in a flood of sunshine; and in the evening those at the opposite end of the long room gave one a lovely view of the setting sun--a finer picture than any painted by the hand of a master. Mary easily persuaded her Aunt to make some changes in the unlivable room. She suggested that they consult her Uncle about repapering and painting the room and surprise him with the result when finished.

Aunt Sarah, who never did things by halves, said: "Mary, I have long intended 'doing over' this room, but thought it such a great undertaking. Now, with your assistance, I shall make a sweep of these old, antiquated heirlooms of a past generation. This green carpet, with its gorgeous bouquets of roses, we shall have combined with one of brown and tan in the attic. Your Uncle shall take them with him when he drives to town and have them woven into pretty, serviceable rugs for the floor."

"And, oh! Aunt Sarah," cried Mary, "do let's have an open fireplace. It makes a room so cheery and 'comfy' when the weather gets colder, on long winter evenings, to have a fire in the grate. I saw some lovely, old brass andirons and fender in the attic, and some brass candlesticks there also, which will do nicely for the mantel shelf over the fireplace. I'll shine 'em up, and instead of this hideously-ugly old wall paper with gay-colored scrawley figures, Aunt Sarah, suppose we get an inexpensive, plain, tan felt paper for drop ceiling and separate it from the paper on the side wall, which should be a warm, yellow-brown, with a narrow chestnut wood molding. Then this dull, dark, gray-blue painted woodwork; could any one imagine anything more hideously ugly? It gives me the 'blues' simply to look at it. Could we not have it painted to imitate chestnut wood? And don't you think we might paint the floor around the edges of the rug to imitate the woodwork? Just think of those centre panels of the door painted a contrasting shade of pale pink. The painter who did this work certainly was an artist. A friend of mine in the city, wishing to use rugs instead of carpets on her floors, and not caring to go to the expense of laying hardwood floors, gave the old floors a couple of coats of light lemon, or straw-colored paint, then stained and grained them a perfect imitation of chestnut, at small expense. The floors were greatly admired when finished, and having been allowed to dry thoroughly after being varnished, proved quite durable. I will write to my friend at once and ask her exactly how her floors were treated."

"Now, Mary, about this old-style furniture. The old grandfather clock standing in the corner, at the upper end of the room, I should like to have remain. It is one hundred and fifty years old and belonged to my folks, and, although old-fashioned, is highly valued by me."

"Of course," said Mary, "we'll certainly leave that in the room."

"Also," said Aunt Sarah, "allow the old cottage organ and large, old-fashioned bookcase belonging to your Uncle to remain. He has frequently spoken of moving his bookcase into the next room, when he was obliged to come in here for books, of which he has quite a valuable collection."

"Oh," said Mary, "no need of that. We will move Uncle John in here, near the bookcase, when we get our room fixed up. Aunt Sarah, we will leave that old-fashioned table, also, with one leaf up against the wall, and this quaint, little, rush-bottomed rocker, which I just dote on."

"Why, dear," exclaimed Aunt Sarah, "there are several chairs to match it in the attic, which you may have when you start housekeeping for your very own. And," laughingly, said her Aunt, "there is another old, oval, marble-topped table in the attic, containing a large glass case covering a basket of wax fruit, which you may have."

"No, Aunt Sarah," said Mary, "I don't believe I want the fruit, but I will accept your offer of the table. Well, Aunt Sarah, I know you won't have this old, black what-not standing in the corner of the room. I do believe it is made of spools, strung on wire, as supports for the shelves; then all painted black, imitation of ebony, I suppose. It must have been made in the Black Age, at the same time the old corner cupboard was painted, as Uncle John told me he scraped off three different layers of paint before doing it over, and one was black. It was originally made of cherry. It certainly looks fine now, with those new brass hinges and pretty, old-fashioned glass knobs."

"Yes, Mary," replied her Aunt, "and there is an old corner cupboard in the attic which belonged to my father, that you may have, and, with a very little labor and expense, Ralph can make it look as well as mine. It has only one door and mine possesses two."

"Aunt Sarah," exclaimed Mary, "you are a dear! How will I ever repay you for all your kindness to me?"

"By passing it on to some one else when you find some one needing help," said Aunt Sarah.

"Such a collection of odd things, Aunt Sarah, as are on this what-not I never saw. Old ambrotypes and daguerreotypes of gone and forgotten members of the 'freinshoft,' as you sometimes say. I don't believe you know any of them."

"Yes, the red plush frame on the mantel shelf contains a picture of John's Uncle, a fine-looking man, but he possessed 'Wanderlust' and has lived in California for many years.

"Oh, you mean the picture on the mantel standing near those twin gilded china vases, gay with red and blue paint?"

"Yes; and that small china and gilt stand with little bowl and pitcher was given me when a small child."

"Suppose I bring a basket and we will fill it with articles from the mantel and what-not," said Mary, "and carry them all to the attic, until you have a rummage sale some day. We'll burn these 'everlasting' and 'straw' flowers, and pampas grass, and this large apple stuck full of cloves. Here is a small china dog and a little china basket with a plaited china handle decorated with gilt, and tiny, pink-tinted china roses. And these large, glass marbles containing little silver eagles inside; also this small, spun-glass ship and blue-and-pink-striped glass pipe. Aunt Sarah, some of your ancestors must have attended a glass blowers' exhibition in years past."

"This branch of white coral, these large snail shells (when a child I remember holding them to my ear to hear a noise resembling the roar of the ocean), and this small basket, fashioned of twigs and tendrils of grape vine, then dipped in red sealing wax, certainly is a good imitation of coral, and this plate, containing a miniature ship composed of green postage stamps, we will place in your corner cupboard."

"And, Aunt Sarah, I suppose this deep, glass-covered picture frame containing a bouquet of hair flowers, most wonderfully and fearfully made, was considered a work of art in days past and gone, as was also the crescent in a frame on the opposite side of the room, composed of flowers made of various seeds of grain and garden vegetables. Those daisies, made of cucumber seeds with grains of red corn for centres, and those made of tiny grains of popcorn with a watermelon seed in centre, are cute. The latter look like breastpins with a circle of pearls around the edge. And this glass case on the table, containing a white cross, covered with wax tube roses, ivy leaves and fuchsias drooping from the arms of the cross, sparkling with diamond dust! The band of green chenille around its base matches the mat underneath, composed of green zephyr of different shades, knitted, then raveled to imitate moss, I suppose; and, no doubt, this marble-topped table has stood here for fifty years, in this same spot, for the express purpose of holding this beautiful (?) work of art."

"The hair flowers and the seed wreath were made by John's sister," replied Aunt Sarah.

"Aunt Sarah," exclaimed Mary, "I've an original idea. This oval, marble-topped table has such strong, solid legs of black walnut, suppose we remove the marble slab and have a large, circular top made of wood at the planing mill? Wait; I'll get my tape measure. About thirty-two inches in diameter will do. The new top we shall stain to match the walnut frame, and it could be easily fastened to the table with a couple of screws; and, after the marble top has been well scoured, we'll use it in the kitchen as a bake board on which to roll out pie crust."

Her Aunt as usual acquiesced to all Mary's suggestions.

"You're a dear, Aunt Sarah!" exclaimed Mary, as she gave her a hug, "and I'll embroider big, yellow daisies with brown centres of French knots on gray linen for a new table cover. Won't they look just sweet?"

"Yes, Mary, and I'll buy a large, new lamp with a pretty shade, as I feel sure your Uncle will like to sit here evenings to read his papers and farm journals."

"And don't forget the Shriners' little magazine, _The Crescent_, which amuses him so greatly. Aunt Sarah, I do wish those stiff, starchy-looking, blue-white Nottingham lace curtains at the windows had grown yellow with age. They would be ever so much prettier and softer looking, and they are such a pretty, neat design, too."

"Oh!" replied her Aunt, "that may be easily remedied. I'll just dip them into a little weak liquid coffee and that will give them a creamy tint, and take out the stiffness."

"Now," said Mary, "what shall we do with these stiff, ugly, haircloth-covered chairs and sofa?"

"Why," replied Aunt Sarah, "we shall buy cretonne or art cloth, in pretty shades of brown and tan or green, to harmonize with the wall paper, and make slip covers for them all. We could never think of dispensing with the sofa. It is a very important article of furniture in German households. The hostess usually gives the person of greatest distinction among her guests the place of honor beside her on the sofa."

"These chairs have such strong, well-made, mahogany frames it would be a pity not to use them. Now," continued Mary, "about the pictures on the wall. Can't we consign them all to the attic? We might use some of the frames. I'll contribute unframed copies of 'The Angelus' and 'The Gleaners,' by Millet; and I think they would fit into these plain mahogany frames which contain the very old-fashioned set of pictures named respectively 'The Lovers,' 'The Declaration,' 'The Lovers' Quarrel' and 'The Marriage.' They constitute a regular art gallery. I'll use a couple of the frames for some small Colonial and apple blossom pictures I have, that I just love, by Wallace Nutting. Mine are all unframed; 'Maiden Reveries,' 'A Canopied Roof' and a 'Ton of Bloom,' I think are sweet. Those branches of apple trees, covered with a mass of natural-looking pink blossoms, are exquisite."

"Yes," remarked Aunt Sarah, "they look exactly like our old Baldwin, Winesap and Cider apple trees in the old, south meadow in the Spring. And, Mary, we'll discard those two chromos, popular a half century ago, of two beautiful cherubs called respectively, 'Wide Awake' and 'Fast Asleep,' given as premiums to a popular magazine. I don't remember if the magazine was 'Godey's,' 'Peterson's' or 'Home Queen'; they have good, plain, mahogany frames which we can use."

"And, Aunt Sarah," said Mary, "we can cut out the partition in this large, black-walnut frame, containing lithograph pictures of General George Washington, 'the Father of his Country' (we are informed in small letters at the bottom of the picture), and of General Andrew Jackson, 'the hero of New Orleans.' Both men are pictured on horseback, on gayly-caparisoned, prancing white steeds, with scarlet saddle cloth, edged with gold bullion fringe. The Generals are pictured clad in blue velvet coats with white facings of cloth or satin vest and tight-fitting knee breeches, also white and long boots reaching to the knee. Gold epaulettes are on their shoulders, and both are in the act of lifting their old-fashioned Continental hats, the advancing army showing faintly in the background. How gorgeously they are arrayed! We will use this frame for the excellent, large copy you have of 'The Doctor' and the pictured faces of the German composers--Beethoven, Wagner, Mendelssohn, Haydn, Schubert and Mozart, which I have on a card with a shaded brown background, will exactly fit into this plain frame of narrow molding, from which I have just removed the old cardboard motto, 'No place like home,' done with green-shaded zephyr in cross-stitch."

"Now, Mary, with the couple of comfortable rockers which I intend purchasing, I think we have about finished planning our room."

"If you are willing, Aunt Sarah, I should like to make some pretty green and brown cretonne slips to cover those square sofa pillows in place of the ones made of small pieces of puffed silk and the one of colored pieces of cashmere in log cabin design, I do admire big, fat, plain, comfortable pillows, for use instead of show. And we must have a waste paper basket near the table beside Uncle John's chair. I shall contribute green satin ribbon for an immense bow on the side of the basket. Oh! Aunt Sarah! You've forgotten all about this odd, woven basket, beside the what-not, filled with sea shells. I don't care for the shells, but the basket would make a lovely sewing basket."

"You may have the basket, Mary, if you like it. It came from Panama, or perhaps it was bought at Aspinwall by John's Uncle, many years ago, when he came home on a visit from California, by way of the Isthmus, to visit old friends and relatives. John's Mother always kept it standing on the floor in one corner of the room beside the what-not."

"Aunt Sarah, why was straw ever put under this carpet?"

"The straw was put there, my dear, to save the carpet, should the boards on the floor be uneven. My Mother was always particular about having _cut rye straw_, because it was softer and finer than any other. It was always used in those days instead of the carpet linings we now have. I remember sometimes, when the carpet had been newly laid, in our home, immediately after house cleaning time, the surface of the floor looked very odd; full of bumps and raised places in spots, until frequent walking over it flattened down the straw. This room happens to have a particularly good, even floor, as this part of the house was built many years later than the original, old farm house, else it would not do to have it painted."

"Aunt Sarah, may I have the old spinning wheel in the attic? I'd love to furnish an old Colonial bedroom when I have a home of my very own. I'll use the rag carpet you made me for the floor, the old-fashioned, high-post bed Uncle John said I might have, and the 'New Colonial' rugs you taught me to make.

"Yes, my dear, and there is another old grandfather's clock in the attic which you may have; and a high-boy also, for which I have no particular use."

"Aunt Sarah, we shall not put away this really beautiful old sampler worked in silk by Uncle John's grandmother when a girl of nine years. It is beautifully done, and is wonderful, I think. And what is this small frame containing a yellowed piece of paper cut in intricate designs, presumably with scissors?"

"Look on the back of the picture and see what is written there, my dear," said her Aunt.

Mary slowly read: "'This is the only picture I owned before my marriage. I earned the money to buy it by gathering wheat heads.'"

"It belonged to my grandmother," said Aunt Sarah. "In old times, after the reapers had left the field, the children were allowed to gather up the wheat remaining, and, I suppose, grandmother bought this picture with the money she earned herself, and considered it quite a work of art in her day. It is over one hundred years old."