As I have sketched an ideal parlour, so would I limn a bedroom I have seen. It was a queer-shaped room, with rather high windows set over some panelling in a little, crooked, dome-shaped alcove, a tiny dressing-room opened off it. The paper was yellow; the paint all white. A bed with plain brass spindles and rails stood away from draught and light, headed with creamy chintz sprinkled with Scotch rosebuds and lined with gold. The curtains of shiny chintz hung from half-inch brass rods only to the window-sill. A wide box couch under them formed a restful seat. Crossways stood a dressing-table, its toilet glass flanked with brass candle-holders, and its jewel drawers fitted with old beaten drop handles; it, as well as the wardrobe, was enamelled white. A frame screen of the same purity, its yellow silk curtains dependent by tiny rings from tiny rods, stood before the dressing-room door, and effectually shut away all washing apparatus. The floor of this room was polished all over (kept in order by weekly applications of beeswax and turpentine). On it lay white Kurd and Scinde rugs. The mantelpiece was wooden, and the chimney corner decorated with shelves painted like wainscotting and doors. These little shelves supplied vantage-grounds for lots of blue-and-white china, and though the colour-scheme may sound monotonous, infinite variety was introduced by the etceteras of the toilette. Of course, blue or terra-cotta, carried out as faithfully, would give an equally satisfactory symphony of tint. However we may decorate our bedrooms, we must not forget that space and head-room are the two requisites for health therein. Simplicity, careful keeping, and radiant cleanliness should be the keynotes of every bedroom in the House Beautiful.
In approaching the drawing-room, I feel I am treading on difficult ground—in fact, an impossible one. Abundantly diverse in everything are some of the reception-rooms I should call beautiful. Wide-mouth pickle jars swathed in art muslin are positively wrong. So are painted rolling-pins or banjos. As to cardboard plaques representing china, and paper frills cut out to look like lace—away with them! A plain brown jug full of real daisies is far more beautiful than a glass bottle covered with varnished pictures and filled with paper or silk imitations. One bit of quaint crackle or Venetian ware on our chimney-piece is restful to the eye; highly coloured shams are distressful. "Although we may tolerate insipid prettiness in perishable confectionery, we ought not to do so in objects which become associated with our daily life." Power of design and power of imitation are the two widely divergent qualities of mind required to produce a beautiful drawing-room. Ostentation of money should be avoided here.
In concluding this paper, I should like to remind my readers that all yearnings after the beautiful are legitimate and right. God has placed a love for the lovely in every human heart. He Himself—in all reverence be it spoken—has led the way. When designing furniture for the Tabernacle built for glory and for beauty in the far-away desert, He made it in the most artistic, most serviceable, and most simple of forms. Look at the description of those golden candlesticks, with their golden almond-shaped knops and elegant branches. Think of the curtains of scarlet and blue and purple, and fine twined linen. Think of the snuffers and spoons and ouches, and bolts and rings and staves, all of pure gold. Truth and grace were evermore wedded together in these patterns of the heavenly things. "Go, and do thou likewise."
SCRIPTURE LESSONS
FOR SCHOOL AND HOME
INTERNATIONAL SERIES
With Illustrative Anecdotes and References.
November 20th.—Manasseh's Sin and Repentance.