One or two millionaires have had upholsterers out from Gillow's and
Jackson and Graham's to furnish their houses in the latest and most
correct fashion, and many colonists who go on a trip to England bring
back with them drawing and dining room suites; but even then there is an
entire want of individuality about the Australian's house--which is the
more remarkable seeing how much his individuality has been brought out by
his career, and shows itself in his general actions and opinions. He may
know how to dogmatize on theology and politics, but when he gets down to
furniture he confesses that his eye is out of focus. The furniture
imported or (in Melbourne) made by the large upholsterers is, with few
exceptions, more gorgeous than pretty; whence one may reasonably infer
that the taste of their customers--when they have any--is better suited
by the grandiose than the artistic. But most of the expensively furnished
houses show plainly that the upholsterer has been given _carte blanche_
to do what he will. Look at his shop-window, and you may make a shrewd
guess at his customer's drawing-room.

Nor is the furniture universal in Australia, as one would naturally
suppose, after the style of that in Italy and the South of France. The
frowsy carpets and heavy solid chairs of England's cold and foggy climate
reign supreme beneath the Austral sun. The Exhibitions have done
something towards reforming our domestic interiors, but it will be a long
time before the renaissance of art as applied to households, which
appears to be taking place in England, makes its way here in any
considerable force.

But instead of generalizing, it is time we should go through Muttonwool's
house room by room. On entering the drawing-room the first thing that
strikes the eye is the carpet, with a stiff set pattern large enough to
knock you down, and of a rich gaudy colour. You raise your eyes--find