are to be divided. They should be double, usually, and a faded gilt gimp
may be used as an outline or as a binding. There are also excellent
fabrics reproducing old brocades and even old tapestries, but it is well
to be careful about using these fabrics. There are machine-made
"tapestries" of foliage designs in soft greens and tans and browns on a
dark blue ground that are very pleasing. Many of these stuffs copy in
color and design the verdure tapestries, and some of them have fine
blues and greens suggestive of Gobelin. These stuffs are very wide and
comparatively inexpensive. I thoroughly advise a stuff of this kind, but
I heartily condemn the imitations of the old tapestries that are covered
with large figures and intricate designs. These old tapestries are as
distinguished for their colors, their textures, and their very crudities
as for their supreme beauty of coloring. It would be foolish to imitate
them.

As for windows and their curtains--I could write a book about them! A
window is such a gay, animate thing. By day it should be full of
sunshine, and if it frames a view worth seeing, the view should be a
part of it. By night the window should be hidden by soft curtains that
have been drawn to the side during the sunshiny hours.

In most houses there is somewhere a group of windows that calls for an
especial kind of curtain. If these windows look out over a pleasant
garden, or upon a vista of fields and trees, or even upon a striking
sky-line of housetops, you will be wise to use a thin, sheer glass
curtain through which you can look out, but which protects you from the
gaze of passers-by. If your group of windows is so placed that there is
no danger of people passing and looking in, then a short sash curtain of
swiss muslin is all that you require, with inside curtains of some
heavier fabric--chintz or linen or silk--that can be drawn at night.