the dressing-table, and so on.

Then I consider the heating of the room. We Americans are slaves to
steam heat. We ruin our furniture, our complexions, and our dispositions
by this enervating atmosphere of too much heat. In my own houses I have
a fireplace in each room, and I burn wood in it. There is a
heating-system in the basement of my house, but it is under perfect
control. I prefer the normal heat of sunshine and open fires. But,
granted that open fires are impossible in all your rooms, do arrange in
the beginning that the small rooms of your house may not be overheated.
It is a distinct irritation to a person who loves clean air to go into a
room where a flood of steam heat pours out of every corner. There is
usually no way to control it unless you turn it off altogether. I once
had the temerity to do this in a certain hotel room where there was a
cold and cheerless empty fireplace. I summoned a reluctant chambermaid,
only to be told that the chimney had never had a fire in it and the
proprietor would rather not take such a risk!

[Illustration: A PORTRAIT BY NATTIER INSET ABOVE A FINE OLD MANTEL]

Perhaps the guest in your house would not be so troublesome, but don't
tempt her! If you have a fireplace, see that it is in working order.
We are sure to judge a woman in whose house we find ourselves for the
first time, by her surroundings. We judge her temperament, her habits,
her inclinations, by the interior of her home. We may talk of the
weather, but we are looking at the furniture. We attribute vulgar
qualities to those who are content to live in ugly surroundings. We
endow with refinement and charm the person who welcomes us in a
delightful room, where the colors blend and the proportions are as
perfect as in a picture. After all, what surer guarantee can there be of