From Kitchen to Garret: Hints for young householders

by J. E. Panton

The spare room should be a cheerful, flowery-looking room, as, indeed, should all bedrooms if possible, and, if a sofa cannot be squeezed in, one of Maple’s charming sofa-ottomans should be put there, and also an arm-chair and small table for books &c., for one’s guests sometimes have headaches, and, especially if we live in town and have up our country cousins, require occasionally half an hour’s rest after a long day’s sight-seeing; or after the drive in the sleepy country air, if the cases are reversed, and we, in our turn, are country cousins entertaining our London friends with our own special sights and sounds.

No matter where the house is situated, every bedroom window should open at the top. This in London obviates a great many blacks flying in, as they do when the sash is thrown wide open at the bottom; an inch at the top seems to do more good than a yard anywhere else, and in the country prevents the deluges and spoiled paint and carpets caused by a sudden storm in the night, or, indeed, in the daytime, when the open window allows the tempest to enter bodily, as it were—unrecognised in the night, of course, unless one is awakened by any specially violent gust; and unseen by the housemaid in the day, who, whoever she may be, never seems to remember that such weather means that the windows should be immediately closed.

Every single thing belonging to the spare room should be religiously kept for its own use: the brass can for hot water, the palm-leaf soiled-linen basket, the little black cupboard for boots, which also serves as a table, the pin-trays, and the pincushion—all should never be allowed to stray away, and matches in a box nailed to the wall should also never be forgotten any more than the candles in their fixed stands, and the various little ornaments upon the mantelpiece, which should include a very regularly wound and most trustworthy clock.

If possible, I should have some pretty framed photographs on the wall, and, above all, a small bookcase, with a cupboard below for medicine and toilet bottles. I cannot bear the look of bottles standing about, and, besides that, medicine bottles are apt to be put down after the medicine is poured out, and sundry drops run down, and a sticky ring is left on the new toilet-cover as a reminder of one’s guest, which is not as nice as one could wish. The medicine cupboard conveys a hint the most obtuse must take, and, as they only cost about 6s. 9d., are within the reach of almost every one. A few judiciously chosen amusing novels and good poetry can well be spared for the spare room, and often are of considerable service to guests who may not go about provided with their own literature. Reading often will lure back sleep, or pass away an hour profitably; and should we breakfast later or go to bed earlier than our guest is accustomed to at home, he takes a book and forgets he is waiting, and blesses instead of ‘cusses’ the difference in our household routine.

It seems to me even now that I have not said half as much on the mere relation of guest to host and hostess as I could have done, though I have hardly yet mentioned the word ‘furniture,’ so a few more hints may be dropped here. Never should any one be allowed to come to stay without the hostess herself seeing that a new nice square of soap is in the newly-washed soap-dish; that the towels are folded right, the water fresh and pure in the ewer, and also in the artistic jug, bought, if she be wise, at Douglas’s, in Piccadilly, in tints to match the ewer; and making sure all is perfectly clean and in order. A small glass of flowers should stand on the toilet-table as a special greeting to one’s friend, and all should suggest that personal thought and care has been given to the special shrine set apart for his or her reception.

I wonder who ever forgets their first visit from home, or who can cease to remember the sense of importance given to us, who once were brides, when our first guest arrived to stay with us, and inspect our new home, which we were then perfectly convinced was far prettier, neater, brighter, and more redolent of love and perfection than any place had ever been before, or could possibly be in the future. Ah! thank Heaven for memory! Tout lasse, tout passe, tout casse, but memory never dies; and if we in our first start in life have charming surroundings and pleasant homes, even if they only are of the simplest nature, as long as we live they are ours, and none can ever take them away from us.

Then another thing in the spare room to be particularly looked to is the arrangement for lighting it. Here gas is a sine quâ non. Candles are most dangerous; a careless guest drops the grease about, or maids cannot resist taking them about too, and more harm is done by candles in a house than almost anything else. At the same time, if gas be not laid on anywhere, the useful brass fixed brackets for candles are necessary; but they should be fixed one or two above the looking-glass, one above the bed, and one above the washing-stand, all the candles guarded by glass shields, and none loose, able to be carried about in a careless or heedless way. If there be no gas, a nightlight should always be provided, with a bracket for its reception, for there are some people who cannot sleep without a light, and nothing is so disagreeable as to have to ask for these little things, and to find that by making such a request we have upset the whole house; though, if a guest be thoughtful, and has these little fads, she should take nightlights &c. about with her. A quite model guest of mine the other day arrived with her own hot-water bottle. Could thoughtfulness go further than this?

If gas be in the house, there should always be a bracket as near the bed as possible. It cannot hurt any one to read in bed if there be no danger of setting the house on fire; and I am so fond of this pernicious habit, and feel so unhappy myself if I cannot indulge in it, that I always, if possible, make provision for my guests to read too, if they are ‘so minded,’ as the people in Dorsetshire always say.

So, before I describe one or two other arrangements of colours that might be tried in the spare room, I may mention two things that should never be lacking there. One is a clock; the other a list of the hours of the household and the postal arrangements—two things that will go some way to insure punctuality.

I could at once sit down and write a chapter all to itself on the inestimable blessings of punctuality, and the extreme rudeness of being unpunctual in the house of a friend.