Mr. Morris spoke of the fireplace as such an important thing in our climate; it is so indeed. One of the first essentials is that it should not smoke or be ugly, and another is that it should give out much heat with little consumption of coal. I consider the greatest increase of delight possible in any kind of fireplace, no matter of what size or make, is to have a very broad hearth of tiles, or bricks, or stone, or marble, or anything of that sort that is hard and fireproof, and then do away with every form of fender or raised rim round the hearth. People have an idea that this is not safe; but that is an entire mistake. To be able to stand easily on the hot tiles is an immense joy added to life, and one much appreciated by men. Even for children, instead of tumbling over the low fender, which is a real danger, they soon feel the heat, and that warns them to keep away from the hearth. But it is essential that the hearth should be wider than is usual, both for appearance and safety; and if a finish is thought desirable between the tiles and the floor, a flat band, three or four inches wide, of brass or iron looks very well-but it is not necessary. The fire-irons should be on a stand apart, or put against the chimneypiece on hooks, or in a hoop of iron or brass. Nothing, of course, supersedes the high wire fender for safety in nurseries and schoolrooms. White tiles as a lining for the sides, grates, and hearths of fireplaces are not often used, but to my mind they are far prettier than dark tiles, if the chimneypiece is made of light-coloured marble or white wood, as is so common. The adapting and improving of what we find in builders' houses is one of our modern difficulties.

Mr. Morris is severe on pianos, and it must be admitted they are very ugly, but great attention is now being given to improving them. One simple inexpensive way of doing so is to have the case very plain; the music-desk plain bars, instead of ornamental fret-work; and the whole left absolutely without varnish or polish. The housemaid's rubbing only improves the marking on the grain of the wood.

In London everything ought to be sacrificed to sweetness and light. Let no one put on their walls or their floors that which they cannot afford constantly to renew. In an ordinary London house, merely keeping things clean one year with another, inside and out, adds a considerable sum yearly to the rent.

I have found it very clean and useful to wash the corners and sides of the window-panes with Sanitas, especially in the country in spring. It destroys the eggs of flies and insects of all kinds, and in no way injures the paint. It saves waste to lay on the Sanitas with a brush.

In London nowadays the houses of the young are freshly done up and clean and healthy. Where I find the greatest sanitary neglect is in the homes of the middle-aged, especially those who have lived long in one place. Even in the houses of rich and well-to-do people, in London, the dirt in the upstairs rooms and passages is inconceivable. The mistress of the house is lazy or indifferent; and as we get older, the years run on so quickly it is impossible to realise how long it is since the last cleaning; nothing is ever looked over, replaced, or renewed. A favourite economy, and one to which the best of housekeepers have a tendency, is to put old carpets out of dining-rooms or drawing-rooms into bedrooms of boys and girls, often without even going to the expense of having them cleaned. The painted floor and a small piece of new drugget, clean and sweet, would be infinitely more healthy and more appropriate. Another constantly neglected corner is what is called the housemaid's closet. In houses where servants are not much looked after, and even where they are, this is often the glory-hole of dirt. I recommend the use of the white enamel slop-pails, which are so infinitely easier to keep clean than the old painted tin ones, though they, too, are quite clean if they are only repainted often enough. The whole system of living and housekeeping in England is still sacrificed far too much to show-large sitting-rooms, small bed-rooms, and unclean attics. However, things are infinitely better than they used to be. In the last century one or two footmen used to sleep on mattresses in the front hall of the crowded little houses in Mayfair; and even in my childhood the custom of putting three or four men or women into one room was quite a usual thing.

To those about to furnish I would say, 'Never buy new things when you can get them second-hand.'Procure an ordinary illustrated price list from one of the large furnishing shops, and with that, by which to test prices, go to second-hand shops and sales. If you get a well-made second-hand piece of furniture that you really want for the same price as, or cheaper than, you could buy painted or varnished deal-well, you know you have not done badly. If you buy an old bookcase, or table, or sofa, for even a little more than you would give for the inferior modern ones, you may still congratulate yourself.

The only marked difference that I can see between my house and most others, both in the country and in London, is that I never have a roller blind. They are expensive to put up, expensive to maintain, and very difficult to keep clean in London. I never have them in my own rooms, in bed-rooms or servants' rooms, in the stable or gardener's cottage. What I do have is an inner curtain hung from a small rod on the window. It can be made of any variety of material, to suit the different windows and the requirements of the room-thin silk (the effects of light through silk-orange, red, yellow, or green-are very pretty), chintz, muslin, or the thickest dark blue or green twill lined with calico, to keep out light in the bedrooms in the country (in London I think light blue or green twill unlined is sufficient); and the most useful of all is the common red Turkey twill, lined or unlined, which washes year after year, and always looks fresh, clean, and bright, and practically never wears out. In many modern windows these inner curtains enable you to dispense with heavy outside curtains altogether-to my mind an advantage, as drawn curtains almost always make a room stuffy and nearly as airless as did the shutters of our forefathers. All the same, thick curtains are, of course, required in the country in winter for warmth. For an outside effect in London, it is very pretty if the wood of the window is painted dark or light green, red, or blue, and if the silk curtains inside are of the same colour to match the paint.