Think of the many lines in which the collector may work! The postage stamp craze was by no means to be despised; it was a good geography lesson for the children, and well up to the times, throwing in a little history as well. Coin collecting is yet more profitable in the same lines, and when confined to the coins of one’s own land, gives a wide enough range for the average collector. For the out-of-door student there are shells, sea mosses and birds’ eggs, flowers to press, and minerals to secure. One boy hunts up Indian relics, another collects weapons of various sorts, from
“The old queen’s arm which Gran’ther Young
Fetched back from Concord, busted,”
to an Australian boomerang or a South Sea Island club brought by the sailor uncle from some voyage of long ago. One dear, old lady has a choice collection of bits of lace all dated and named; another of pieces of brocade, an admirable commentary on silk manufactory. Here we find a treasurer of fans, and there of snuff-boxes; here of children’s photographs, and there of photographs or autographs of famous men; and everywhere, all over our land, will be found the covetous collector of rare, old china and pottery. Let the children be encouraged to interest themselves in some such lines as these, not so as to make nuisances of themselves and museums of their homes—there will be little danger of that—but enough to give them a wholesome enthusiasm in some particular line of study. A vast deal of general information is disseminated through a household, unconsciously absorbed, as it were, when each one has a hobby of his own, and gives out of his choicest discoveries for the common good.
As to the sitting room furniture, there are a few essentials that must be emphasized. There should be a table large enough for half a dozen people to sit around of an evening—a round one is best—strong, solid, and covered with a serviceable cloth. There are handsome woolen table covers that grow yet handsomer with age as their colors mellow together, but the best is expensive. A square of plain felt does very well, and is in better taste than the scarlet and green felt cloths stamped with black figures that were so prevalent twenty years ago. A figured cloth shows spots less than a plain one. If a mat of some sort, or even a newspaper, is always laid down under any lamp that burns kerosene, and if a blotter is always used where writing or painting is going on, a plain cloth ought to last for years. Light should abound where the family sit together, sunlight by day and good gas or lamp light by night should be generously supplied. A good duplex burner or a double student lamp uses no more oil than several small lamps dotted down here and there, about the room, and it brings the family together about the central table. So with the drop light, which is an essential where gas is used. The wise woman discards gas in her sitting room, however, and uses good oil, which is far better for the eyes. There should be a writing desk in the room. The old-fashioned secretary was a valuable piece of sitting room furniture, and many a good one has been recalled from the attic within the last few years, and, by a judicious use of soda water, has been freed from old paint, and when scrubbed and rubbed, it has shone as good as new, and much more useful than the modern Davenport. There should be large, easy chairs, not too low, for the use of the men of the house, and for elderly people who find it hard to rise gracefully and with ease from soft, low chairs. There should also be low chairs with broad seats, and short arms, or none at all, for those who must busy themselves with sewing, knitting, and embroidery, and comfortable camp chairs that can be lightly lifted by the children and carried here and there about the room. Let the chairs, in fact let everything be strong and comfortable in this room. A heavy man is often put to great inconvenience because the chairs at his disposal are too flimsy to bear his weight. There are countless stories told of the Rev. Phillips Brooks, and men of his build, who dare not laugh at a dinner party lest their chairs resolve themselves into kindling wood at the first mirthful shake. In my own parlor there is one chair deep, broad, and of marvelous strength, bought with an eye to the needs of a friendly neighbor of grand dimensions. “This is a chair that Mr. B. can’t break,” said the kindly donor who had witnessed the collapsing of ordinary parlor chairs under his ponderous weight. Remember that no chair should be expected to do service that has not connecting rungs between the legs.
There should be, also, a lounge or sofa in this room, with ample pillow, not a round horse-hair cylinder, but something useful, restful, and not too fine. Let the color be as perfect as may be, but if the material of which it is made be really too splendid for daily use, its glories should be veiled behind a strong, washable tidy. I have seen a gray linen square or towel, with drawn work at the ends, such as costs fifty cents, perhaps, at the linen shops, with a few long-stemmed poppies bending together in a row at one end, wrought in outline, with the familiar legend, “We are all nodding, nid, nid, nodding,” running sleepily down the center. That had just sentiment enough, and art enough for its place and use. Tidies are mere clutter if not intended to be brushed against and used. Paintings on blue satin, decked out with lace, are out of taste in any room, however fine, and out of place on any chair. No chair should be too daintily dressed out to be sat upon; and no painting should so hang as to invite shoulders clad in black broadcloth to rub themselves against it. “Tidies” or “chair backs,” if used at all, should be of a firm material, not easily crumpled, should be firmly attached, should give off little or no lint, and should be washed when they are soiled, or thrown away. They are better when off the white.
There should be a wrap of some sort, afghan, Mexican or army blanket, railway rug or shawl thrown over the foot of the sofa, with which to cover up the invalid of the household, or any one who is tempted to lounge awhile.
Other sitting room comforts, though not essentials, are a sewing table, stand or basket with drawers or pockets attached, for the convenience of needlewomen, a portable screen, two-leaved and not too large, that can shut off draughts from rheumatic shoulders, and an occasional hassock or footstool—“crickets” our grandmothers called them in New England.
The covering of tables, chairs, etc., affords an opportunity to introduce color into the room, but it is not at all necessary that the chairs should all be covered with stuffs of the same quality or color. Unless very well chosen, plain colors are apt to stare, like the sharp green “rep” that was so long popular, and whose good wearing qualities made it so hard to displace. If the manufacturers had only kept pace with the times, and produced the stuff in good, plain shades that would keep their colors, or figured in good designs, it would still hold its own against all the so-called tapestry goods that the upholsterers offer us. “Rep,” however, was utterly unsuitable for curtains; it was stiff and wiry, and hung in ungainly folds.
For our sitting room some light drapery at the windows is advisable. If the room has no blinds, there should be some sort of thick shades or venetian blinds. There is a yellowish brown holland that is admirable for the purpose; but with outside or inside blinds, a thin curtain like Madras muslin is all that is necessary to shade the blackness of the windows at night, or to temper the brightness of the sunlight by day. The advantage of Madras muslin or Cretan cloth over lace, muslin, or cheese cloth curtains lies in the color and figure; colored and figured curtains showing to better advantage against the light than plain white, and looking fresher much longer; they “furnish” a room more.