Before I end this chapter I may just give some few hints as to what to do with our fireplaces when a fire is not necessary though, in my own case, an open Japanese umbrella suffices, because the temperature in England changes so quickly and so often that I scarcely can feel fires are an impossibility; but quite a pretty change in the room can be made by placing the sofa or the grand piano straight across the fireplace, of course removing fender, &c., and so making it appear as if it had vanished; while another nice effect is made with putting a fender made of virgin cork instead of the ordinary one, and filling up the grate with great ferns and flowering plants or cut flowers, frequently changed, for nothing save the ubiquitous aspidistra lives comfortably in this lowly and draughty situation. The cork fender should be filled with moss, and then jam pots sunk in it full of water; in these arrange your flowers: put a hand-basin in the grate itself, and bend large leaves of the Filix mas. fern over the edges; these completely cover the bars of the grate; then large peonies can be arranged in the basin, and the whole looks like a bank of flowers. This can only be managed in a country room, where flowers are plentiful; but not a bad fire-screen is made from a wire frame with a deep flower trough in front; ivy should be trained all over the frame, and then flowers and ferns can be arranged in the trough at it small cost. Let this, however, be done only in one room in the house. Never put it out of your power to have a fire whenever you feel cold. No one knows how much illness is saved by this small precaution.
One or two things must also be remembered before we leave the dining-room altogether. Footstools must be provided, and by the side of the grate should hang a bass brush to keep the hearth tidy, a pair of bellows to coax a lazy fire, and a fan to screen any one who should dislike the blaze in their eyes; and the wall-paper will last all the longer if a Japanese paper fan is nailed in such a manner that the bristles of the brush rest on it and not on the wall; just as the carpet will last longer if the coalscuttle stands on its own small linoleum mat, which can be painted any colour with Aspinall’s paint, and will always wash clean, cheerfully every day.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE MORNING-ROOM.
Even in a small house I very strongly advise the third room to be set aside emphatically for the mistress’s own room—sacred to her own pursuits, and far too sacred to be smoked in on any occasion whatever. And this room can hardly be made too pretty in my eyes, for undoubtedly here will be struck the key-note of the house, for the chamber set aside for the mistress of the house is unconsciously a great revealer of secrets. Is she dreamy, lazy, and untidy?—her room tells of her. Is she careful, neat, energetic?—her room brightens up and bears witness to her own character. Does she write?—these are her pens, and her dirty little inkstand, looking like business; or work, or paint? Well, ask the room sacred to her use; it will tell you of her much better than I can, and if she be only an honest English girl, anxious to rule her house well, and to really make it ‘home,’ her room will disclose all this, and will be always ready for her, and for any one else who will come to her there for the help, pleasure, or counsel she in her turn will be so happy to give once she has bought her own little experience.
Or should it happen that Angelina has no pronounced tastes, and does not intend to plunge head-first among the bread-winners with pen or pencil, she will have all the easier task in arranging her tiny room. On the walls we may hang a pretty sage-green paper, taking great care there is no arsenic in it. In the recesses of the walls beside the fireplace I should put shelves, painted sage-green, the colour of the paint, and edged with narrow frills of cretonne similar to that used on the mantel-board; these are sewn on tapes, and the tapes nailed to the shelves, and hidden by a moulding similar to the one on the board. And should Angelina desire a cheap, useful species of cupboard, one of these shelf-fitted recesses can be draped by a cretonne curtain, which would look pretty, the while it hid any baskets or boxes or odds and ends wished out of sight yet close at hand at the same time. These shelves are put in to the height of the mantelpiece, and, the tops being wide, hold a nice quantity of decorative china, and, being backed by fans or large blue and white plates, bought very cheaply at almost any glass and china warehouse, add immensely to the artistic appearance of the room, the walls of which will, I hope, be hung with pretty photographs or engravings, or sketches of home friends, or places, done by friends or even by our bride herself.
If she can paint, or has any girl friend who can do so, she should now embellish her door panels with graceful pale pink flowers, remembering never to fall into that fatal and ugly mistake of drawing or representing flowers in the colours that nature herself never uses for them. There is my favourite pink flower, the flowering rush, to be remembered, and this pictured among its own surroundings, marguerite daisies and long grasses, would be admirable on the sage-green paint, and doing this will occupy Angelina nicely during those long hours that are hers when the honeymoon is over, and Edwin has once more to put his neck into the collar and set to work to keep the little house going.
I should also like Angelina to keep round her in this her own room as many reminiscences as she can procure of her old home. If she have a prudent, loving mother, I think many a little imprudence may be avoided, if a photograph of the dear face is always looking down upon her; and if she have an honoured father, his precepts will be recalled in a similar manner, and insensibly she will be helped on her way, as she was in her girlhood, by the loving counsel she can never be too old to require, live as long as ever she may.
Then there should always be something here in the shape of a desk, for Angelina will have to write letters, if only to answer invitations, though I trust sincerely she may have something better to do with her time than that. And if she can copy Edwin’s writing table, she will find it a great comfort to her, for the deep drawers will hold paper, envelopes, and the thousand and one things she should never be without; such as string, untied, not cut off parcels, and neatly rolled up in lengths, half-sheets of letters to be used for notes to familiar friends or for tradesmen’s orders, paid bills—no unpaid ones, please—and brown papers also saved from parcels, elastic bands, and answered and unanswered letters; which, if important or private, should never be left on a desk in a letter-rack, for ‘maidens’ are but mortals, and an open epistle is too tempting a thing for most servants to leave untouched and unread. Be sure and have a wastepaper basket, and somewhere in a cupboard the sack I mentioned before, in which to put the contents of the basket at once, as soon as it is full; and do not keep any letters about in your possession once they are replied to, especially if they are chatty letters about people and their sayings and doings, but destroy them at once. They are safe in the wastepaper bag; but a letter is like a ghost, and turns up when least expected, often working irreparable mischief; in fact, in these days of penny postage, a letter is only written for the moment, and should be put beyond the power of doing harm by any honourable person the moment it has answered its purpose. Remember how often one’s opinion changes. One makes friends or quarrels with an acquaintance, and writes to one’s intimates about these tiny circumstances, and no harm is done if the letter be immediately destroyed, besides which there is always the chance that death may pounce upon one, and leave one’s hoards defenceless, and our friend’s confidences at the mercy of our successors. Who re-reads old letters? Life is too rapid now for this. Once answered, tear up these amusing, compromising epistles, and beg your correspondents to do the same, and then not very much harm will be done by them after all.
In Angelina’s room there should always be some sort of a sofa. Maple has beautiful deep sofas, I think for 8l. 8s.; these can be covered with serge, or else velveteen or corduroy velvet, in a good sage-green colour or peacock blue, and finished at either end with a square pillow or cushion covered with the same; the velveteen is 2s. 6d. a yard, and wears beautifully; it is preserved too, when not in use, by throwing over it a large cover made of either guipure and muslin, costing 30s.—rather a large item—or by two or three of the striped curtains, joined. These cost 1s. 6d. each at Liberty’s, but I personally prefer the guipure, or else a large square of Madras muslin, edged with a goffered frill, or else a cheap lace. This should be folded back, should you require to lie down much on the sofa, as otherwise it soon crushes and becomes dirty and untidy. Remember, young people, I am no advocate for lying about on sofas, and I abhor idleness, but a proper amount of rest and care often saves a long illness, and there will be times in all your lives when a sofa is not a luxury but a positive necessity. A book can always be read, or work be done, for, properly pushed down at the back, the cushions support the shoulders, the while the legs are supported too, and so proper rest is obtained; and if the sofa be in Angelina’s own room, she will use it when she would think twice before going solemnly into the drawing-room, where she may be disturbed by visitors, or be, perhaps, fireless, to take the repose she may possibly have been ordered.