PARLOURS
Anything less like a parlour than the drawing-room of an ordinary
suburban residence I can hardly imagine; but there is no earthly reason
why it should not be turned into a semblance of one especially in those
more favoured spots where the architect has artistic leanings, and where
the speculative jerry-builder has not had everything his own sweet way.
Here we may often come across quite delightful little picture houses,
bearing the stamp of Mr Ernest Newton’s genius, and if the structure
does not equal the design in merit, we can always circumvent any errors
if we are clever, while the deep, charming windows and really lovely
mantels over-mantels and grates provided for us, make our task of
decoration a comparatively easy one from the first. Generally these
houses are built with gables, and are half-timbered in a most
picturesque manner, and maybe appear at first sight to be over-windowed
and unduly ornate, and open vistas before us of swift ruination in the
matter of blinds and curtains. But, on reflection, we discover that not
only is there not one window too many, but that the very simplicity of
the treatment of them as regards the curtaining as described in the last
chapter, makes them far less expensive to deal with than the ordinary
sash or French window, which one finds awaiting one in the dreadful
houses of the older suburbs, or in those which have not yet advanced
beyond the tastes of the day before yesterday. Let us therefore
contemplate having a pretty room to deal with before we think of the
ordinary chamber with its heavy and fearsomely-decorated cornice, its
gaping grate, its ‘statuary marble’ mantelpiece, and its many other
drawbacks to decorative happiness. For if we have, as I said before, the
task before us is a comparatively easy one, unless of course, we are
handicapped by the possession of a ghastly cheffonnier brother in
fearfulness to the massive sideboard, a grand piano for a room 15 feet
square, or a ‘suite’ of furniture and a round table, which said
possessions really do still exist and have often to be dealt with when a
move from one house to another is contemplated. If they have, there is
only one word for it, and that is sell. The greater encumbrances must go
for whatever they will fetch, and the owners must be contented with a
much simpler style of furnishing. The cheffonnier is impossible, the
round table may be relegated to the dining-room, and the old-style table
there sold: and fortunately these tables are always worth a certain sum
in the market: while the grand piano should be exchanged for either a
cottage grand or an ordinary upright piano, and the suite of furniture
effectively disguised in new cretonne frocks which cover the chairs and
sofas entirely, and so hide faulty lines and construction, turning
heavy, ugly encumbrances into quite charming possessions at once. These
covers, however, must be made very carefully indeed, and must fit
easily. The small chairs are finished off with a 3-inch frill from the
seat of the chair
[Illustration: DRAWING-ROOM AT WAYSIDE.]
not in any case put into a band. A band spoils the look of the frills at
once, and gives them a most comic and inconsequent appearance, and the
frills on the sofa and big arm-chairs must be arranged on the same
lines, though these should of course be very much deeper and should
just, and only just, clear the floor. In any case there must be no
attempt to adapt old curtains from long windows to these small and
artistic ones, for that can never be a success, and materials nowadays
are so cheap there can be no necessity for such economy, especially if
the house-mistress has the smallest idea of sewing, or knows of a good
upholstress, or has daughters who are equal to an emergency. By the way,
the very best upholstress I know is Mrs George Bacon, of West Street,
Wareham, Dorset. It seems a long way off but it really is not, and she
is such an admirable worker and so quick and industrious, that one saves
her fare over and over again, and her keep too, as of course save in
London, where she has married daughters she can stay with, she has to be
put up. But then she has all my patterns, and think of the inestimable
value those must be to my numerous friendly readers! Once more then, if
we proceed on these lines, all we shall have to consider is the carpet,
and we must take the most prominent colour in that, and do our best to
live up to it. But on no account must we attempt either to ignore or
shirk the fact that there is a prominent colour to be considered. We
must make that the key-note, and wall-papers, cretonnes, and curtains
must all be chosen with a remembrance of the one thing that we are bound
to recollect if we wish for any decorative harmony at all.
When, I wonder, will the dreadful muddled browny-blue-yellow carpets
cease to trouble us? When, oh when will the ‘magnificent designs’ and
handsome patterns fade away into the _ewigkeit_? and leave only the
charming unobtrusive designs in the same colour, but a shade or two
lighter than the ground of the carpet, which are all that should be
found in any house in the land? One only wants a warm bit of harmonious
colouring on the floor, after all; one does not want the carpet to arise
and call aloud to the entering visitor, ‘Look at me! See what I cost!
Recognise these exquisite touches and tints, these fearsome leaves and
flowers, this magnificent and gorgeous pattern which covers me, and
renders me so unduly conspicuous.’ But rather should it never be noticed
at all, thus taking its right place in the harmony of the decorative
design, and becoming merely the floor covering that it is undoubtedly
only meant to be.
If we are rich, we can have pile; if not, let us have either the
three-ply Kidderminster, or the satisfactory ‘Dunelm’ carpets, recently
brought out by Wallace, or one of the carpets kept by Hewetson, Smee &
Cobay and Wallace, at my earnest request, where the pattern only shows
sufficiently to break up the plain surface. No doubt entire absence of
pattern would be the more correct, did that not mean that every atom of
fluff, dirt and dust showed at once, and fidgeted the owner all day
long. For these atoms seem to accumulate mysteriously the moment any
plain-surfaced material is selected, and though I much prefer to see
whatever dirt is present, with an eye to getting it removed at the
earliest possible moment, one cannot have a room swept and dusted more
than once a day, and some rooms cannot be swept as often as that,
although undoubtedly they ought to be. Of course my ideal floor covering
will always be matting and rugs, and from that I shall never depart. I
am devoted to the new ‘Isis’ matting, sold by the Abingdon Carpet
Company, and also to the plain string coloured matting sold by
Shoolbred, Treloar, and Liberty at about 2s. 8d. to 2s. 10d. a yard;
this, of course, has to be supplemented with rugs, and, therefore, is
not as inexpensive as even a good pile carpet: that is to say, if we buy
good rugs, and inexpensive ones cannot please, because of the crudity of
their colouring and the manner in which they wear. Hewetson’s and
Liberty’s rugs are simply perfect, and can be bought by the tyro in
artistic matters without the smallest qualm, for at neither
establishment will he or she be given anything which is not just what it
ought to be. But given the rugs, it must be once more remembered that
there is a certain art in placing them about the floor, which all
house-mistresses do not, it seems to me, recognise. The rugs must not be
put down in straight lines and close together, but given the ordinary
room, should be placed as a rule at right angles to one another. Of
course this is merely a hint, and can be improved upon in any way my
readers prefer. That such a hint is necessary I know, because I have
often gone into a room where there are plenty of beautiful rugs, spoiled
entirely by being placed in long lines close together, in a manner that
would be painful indeed, were it not utterly absurd. As a rule such a
room has one rug straight along in front of the fireplace, another
straight in front of the window or windows, while the rest are placed in
the same painful positions by the door and by the wall opposite the
fire, in a manner which makes me long, no matter where I may be, to oust
the furniture on the instant, and to put those rugs myself in the manner
in which they should most certainly go. If we must have new curtains,
quite the most dainty and charming arrangement can be made from using
the new coloured linens, sold by Walpole Brothers, and by Murphy & Orr
and Harris & Company. These linen curtains should be full and short,
should be double, if there be very much sun, and should have an
insertion of Torchon lace laid on about 2 inches from the edge of the
curtain where should come a softly-falling frill of similar lace, about
3 or 4 inches wide. These frills should go round the bottom and up each
side, and the tops of the curtains should be finished by being slightly
gathered on a narrow tape, on which the hooks should be sewn which
fasten into eyes on the slight brass rods, which are all that are
required in these special windows. The hook-and-eye arrangement is much
to be preferred to the old manner of sewing rings on the curtain itself;
one can unhook a curtain in a minute and shake it out of doors in
another. If one has rings only, it means taking down the rods too and
that means trouble, which a lazy housemaid will most surely shirk, if
she can in any way manage to do so. By the way, the structural faults
dwelt upon in former chapters will most certainly be found in this
room, as in all the others, and must be rigorously treated in a similar
style, while the _portières_ must be placed inside and outside the door,
and a screen must not be forgotten. Unless one has a screen the whole of
the room is exposed to view the moment the door is opened; we can have
no sense of privacy at all while in such a chamber. If the door opens
inside to the left, it should be turned round and opened to the right.
If this is not done no one can sit by the fire without being almost
blown up the chimney, by reason of the draught which will come in at the
opening, and make as a matter of course for the unsheltered and gaping
grate.
If, once more, the would-be suburban resident enters on her possession
of the house entirely free and unshackled by any encumbrances in the way
of furniture, and can really set about making such a room as we describe
charming; a beautiful parlour can be made by panelling the room for
about 7 feet, and having a soft and very pretty paper above. This sounds
reckless work in a house that is merely rented, but one can buy
panelling sometimes extremely cheaply. Bartholomew & Fletcher have some
oak an inch thick, ready to fix, at 1s. 10d. a square foot, while
Godfrey Giles’s ‘goehring’ material is cheaper much than that, and can,
moreover, be painted any colour preferred. If the oak is chosen, the
fireplace should be finished off with a very light and simple mantel in
the same material. It must not be carved or unduly ornate, but be quite
plain, and distinguished only by its graceful lines. I do not here
advise the regulation overmantel, but I should hang above the fireplace
the small Chippendale mirror sold by Hewetson for about 27s.,
supplementing it each side with ring-sconces to hold three candles. The
real old ones are very expensive, but very good copies can be had from
Oetzmann in the Hampstead Road. Above the oak the paper should be
undoubtedly a really good blue. The right blue which is always pleasant
to live with, and does not go black at night or a dull grey or any other
unpleasant hue, can always be had from Smee & Cobay; and I am also very
fond of their gold and blue Japanese leather paper. Still this is
expensive, and therefore not to be lightly recommended for it cannot be
removed. The panelling can, which is one reason why I speak of what may
seem out of the reach of the ordinary suburban resident, who will make
his house three times as warm and comfortable if he panels his walls,
and will moreover have always something delightful at which to look. The
floor should be covered with matting and rugs, and the curtains should
be the same blue as the paper, in linen and lace, printed damask and
lace, all in plain colours, or else in plain blue linen plush edged fan
edging; and the furniture should be simple, graceful and charming. In
the bow window we could have a low broad seat or else a writing-table,
placed rather across one side of the window. In the centre could be the
flower-table, and on the other side we could put a low, corner
window-seat, which might be a fixture and part of the panellings. The
rest of the room can be furnished as shown in the sketch on page 131,
but great care must be taken to have nothing but comfortable chairs and
one good deep sofa; and the chairs must not be chosen without due
reflection and without being sat in in several attitudes. A really good
chair is a possession which lasts one’s lifetime, and one that is in the
least degree uncomfortable should never be tolerated for one moment. A
good reason that for refusing utterly to buy or countenance the
detestable and out-of-date suite where none of the chairs are even
decent, and where the sofa may be ornate but cannot be a place to rest
upon try how we will. If we have this panelled room, we should try and
find a Sherraton writing-table at Hewetson’s, which has no high back, a
thing, by the way, to remember about all writing-tables, which have to
stand in a window. The flower-table can be bought at Wallace’s, as can
the smaller tables and chairs. A sofa and corner cabinet, can be had of
Smee, while a ‘grandfather’ chair is to be had at Hewetson’s, and
Bartholomew & Fletcher’s ‘Seabright’ armchair must never be forgotten.
These are by far the most comfortable chairs in the whole furniture
world. If we cannot rise to the oak panelling, a charming parlour may be
made from plain ‘goehring,’ painted some soft colour, either sea-green,
electric turquoise or real ivory, and above the panelling should be a
paper in the same shade as the paint; if either green or blue is used;
and with very little pattern, only enough to break the expanse of plain
colour, while if the paint be ivory a dainty floral paper on an ivory
ground should be chosen. In this case we should have cretonne covers to
our chairs to match the paper, and the curtains could be of the same, or
else of my pet invention the plain linen edged with softly falling lace.
If we are able to indulge in the panelling, we should have one of the
really beautiful anaglypta ceilings kept by Smee & Cobay; or if the
ceiling is mapped out into patterns, the moulded parts should be simply
coloured cream, and the panels should be filled in with the
ivory-coloured anaglypta one buys at about 1s. a yard. I myself never
believe in furnishing entirely from one establishment, and think if one
does one can never get a real or individual home. It is also much more
interesting to develop our own tastes and search about until we find
what we want, and not take recklessly whatever Messrs Jones and Smith
choose to sell us. If we do, our house will be the house of Jones and
Smith, not ours. And is there not one special firm, which shall be
nameless, whose taste or want of it rides rough shod over the suburbs,
and makes one house the exact counterpart of the one next door; ay, and
the one next door to that! Of course, there are many good firms which
can rise above the conventional and become individual, and I am thankful
to say that their numbers increase and multiply daily. At the same time,
a house cannot be really enjoyed or be really our own unless we have
ourselves searched and found what we want for it, recollecting all the
time that on no account should we spend all our money until we have
lived through a winter and summer in it. Otherwise we shall repent as in
sackcloth and ashes, because we are sure to discover some terrible need,
which we are powerless to supply because we have not the wherewithal to
purchase what would make us comparatively if not completely happy.
Hitherto I have been dealing with the house which is out of the common
run, and which is pretty to look at, and repays us over and over again
for any outlay we may make, the house wherein we are certain to find
good grates and simple mantelpieces, and where, though we may not find
our special tastes consulted, we may be quite sure that taste and art
exist, though neither need be what we actually consider such ourselves.
Alas! and alas again! that I should have to show a darker side of the
picture, and one that would most certainly paralyse any unfortunate
tenant who has neither money nor an accommodating landlord. But then I
say, let no considerations allow anyone to take such a house, for if it
be hideous, and the owner is really poor as well as the tenant, nothing
can be done for it because there is nothing to spend, and without money
all are powerless. An impecunious landlord should never for one moment
be allowed to exist. He is a danger to the community. He cannot and will
not repair his roof, see to his drains, or keep the outside of his house
in order; and though in some places, notably Brighton, the local
authorities can give him notice to put his house in order, and should
he fail to do so, can proceed to do the work themselves, sending him in
the bill and seeing that it is paid; this power is, I fancy, rather the
rule than the exception, else should we not see the fearfully insanitary
houses we constantly come across, and are as constantly and continually
condemning. I go as far as to say that if a landlord cannot cultivate
his land, or keep his houses in good order, the State should have full
power to buy at once at a regulation price; but I expect that is too
Socialistic a move for most people to endorse. Still, I do most
unhesitatingly implore my readers, first never to take a house on a
repairing lease, and secondly to make sure that the landlord can spend,
if he ought, whatever may be necessary to keep the place in really
proper repair.
I have suffered from an impecunious landlord, who, while willing to do
his utmost, yet really had nothing to spend; therefore I know how
disagreeable this state of things can be; more especially if he is, as
he generally is, a nice man. Then one can’t bear to trouble him, yet
why should we replace his tiles and chimney-pots, and sink our money in
his drains, or why should we replace his hideous grates with our
charming ones, or his worn-out kitchener with our new and superior
‘Eagle’ range? Yet, if we do not have these things done we are wretched
and unhealthy too, and a good landlord is always willing to improve his
property, if we are willing to pay him a proportionate interest on
whatever capital he may lay out. If we not only find an impecunious but
a crusty landlord, all negotiations must be broken off at once and
without delay. It is bad enough to have to pay for improving another
man’s property, it is unbearable to have our improvements called
‘dilapidations,’ and treated with scorn and contumely. Strange as it may
appear, there are men whose ideas of the beautiful include grained
panels, heavy and ornate cornices, and the preservation of the plaster
excrescence in the very middle of the ceiling. If one finds such a man
we can be quite sure he will allow no tamperings with his doors or his
beautiful marble mantelpieces, and that we shall have to keep the house
as we find it, or incur endless expense and litigation when we leave, as
leave we undoubtedly shall,--thus bringing on ourselves the expense and
trouble of a move,--because we are prevented from settling comfortably
into a house, into which we should never for one moment have been weak
enough to have gone. In the suburb where we do not find the pretty
houses I have written of just now, we generally discover the houses to
be high and light, and glaringly vulgar and hideous in every way. They
have the orthodox three rooms on the ground floor, and have above that,
in a couple of stories, from six to eight bedrooms and dressing-rooms
and a bathroom, while all the terrible ingenuity of a vulgar mind has
been taxed to produce striped paint, heavily moulded and odiously-tinted
cornices and vast glaring windows, which drive the artistic woman wild,
because she feels almost powerless to cope with them. But she must do
it, and at once. She must seek out the landlord himself, flatly refusing
to leave matters to the agent; and dealing in these matters direct, must
obtain the landlord’s written permission to deal with the horrors to
the best of her powers. Let us hope that the decorations may not be new
and freshly done. In this case the house must not be taken and I am sure
that houses would let twice as fast as they do, if when one family
leaves, the walls could be stripped and left bare, the woodwork being
either left as it is or merely primed for painting. As a rule, no one
likes another’s taste, and even if the taste be good, it may not suit
the next tenant’s belongings, neither, should she be about to furnish,
may she care to adapt her new possessions to the colours and styles she
finds ready for her in the fresh house. Fancy the anguish of being
forced to make and inhabit a green drawing-room, after one has longed
for years for a yellow one; or pining for a blue hall to find a
terra-cotta one one’s portion! That it is not ugly is its worst fault,
it is only ‘inoffensive,’ ‘unnoticeable,’ too clean to touch. A thousand
times better had it been hideous, or so black, that questions of hygiene
could be raised at once, and the way opened to secure, what everyone
should have, an artistic and beautiful home. If the drawing-room cannot
be made into a charming parlour, if we must keep the heavy cornice and
the frightful mantelpiece, we must e’en do the best we can for the
wretched thing. Anyhow we must secure a simple, tiled hearth and
surround, and a slow-combustion stove, and we must disguise the
mantelpiece by painting it, if we can, to match the rest of the paint in
the room, and putting on it the simplest drapery in the world, which is
known as the ‘Gentlewoman,’ after the paper of that name, and which is
made by taking a plain strip of material 24 inches wide, and 24 inches
longer than the mantelpiece itself. This is trimmed round the sides and
front with ball fringe or cord. If cord is used, a bunch of pom-poms
should hang from each of the front corners, and the corners are lined on
the cross with thin silk or sateen the same colour as the material, and
this is simply put on the shelf and drapes itself. It is so simple that
people cannot understand its virtues until they have seen it, then they
understand at once what a valuable help it is to circumventing the
ordinary marble mantelpiece of badly-designed houses. Mind, I am not
saying one word against the beautiful old mantelpieces one finds in
really splendid and venerable houses; these are often lovely and rightly
placed enough. But the usual monstrosity is not like these or to be
spoken of in the same book, and can only be treated as I have just
described. The tiles of the grate should never be anything save severely
plain and of one colour, for anything else is out of place and generally
most expensive, and also more frightful than I can say. If the room is
glaringly light it must be toned down, and much as I dislike green, it
is the only colour one can have. The ‘green ash’ paper always kept by
Smee & Cobay is a delightful colour to live with, and should have paint
the same shade of green as the palest in the paper; and one should
moreover have some kind of floral frieze with pink in it. I like the
‘Magnolia’ bought of the same firm, but both Knowles & Haines always
keep beautiful floral friezes, and should both be asked to supply or
show designs if the ‘Magnolia’ were not liked, or were out of stock, as
might be the case. The frieze-rail from which the pictures should hang
from hooks on copper wires, should be coloured the same as the rest of
the paint, and should come in an ordinary room about a couple of inches
below the top of the door. Now, just one word of explanation in _re_ the
matter of a frieze, for strange as it may appear, everyone is not yet
acquainted with what is meant when the word frieze is used. First of all
it is not a border and should never be treated as such; it should never
be less than 16 inches wide, and can be as much wider as circumstances
will permit, and it should never, under any circumstances whatever, be
put on in strips like ordinary wall-paper is, but should be run round
the room the length of the roll, not the width. Most floral friezes are
so designed that one would imagine such treatment to be impossible, but
I have actually known of cases where a ‘festoon’ frieze, which one would
have thought no one ever could possibly make a mistake about, was cut in
lengths and hung sideways in snippets, and even then the owner only
thought the design ‘queer:’ She could not see how absolutely idiotic had
been the treatment of the unfortunate thing. Then there is another thing
to mention: all too often the wry prettiest friezes designed as such,
are disfigured with two or three straight lines which suggest to some
vague, chaotic and inartistic minds that they replace the most necessary
frieze-rail. They do nothing of the kind; a frieze-rail must be had if a
frieze is used at all, and I trust that paper-stainers and makers may
some day eliminate those lines altogether, and so no longer give a hint
that it is possible to do without the real wooden rail. Even on the
score of economy those lines are a mistake. One must hang one’s pictures
from something, and the frieze-rail is cheaper and far more effective
than the usual brass picture-rod provided for this purpose. If we have
pink in our frieze, we can have a pink or green carpet, or else a dull
green one, just flecked with pink, which I think Morris has, or yet
again can we have the entirely satisfactory green ‘Isis’ matting and
rugs. I advise the ‘Isis’ most strongly, for not only is it beautiful
and cleanly in itself but it is a home manufacture, and being made from
the rushes in the higher Thames, should certainly claim our patronage.
If we want a pink carpet, nothing surpasses Wallace’s pink ‘Iris,’ while
Smee’s soft green carpet, made on purpose to match the ‘green ash’
paper, is a great success. If the room is very light it is well to keep
to the same shade of green as the carpet for curtains and coverings.
This does not go black at night, but keeps its colour well. All drawing
and dining-room papers and materials should be chosen at night as well
as by day, for great may be the disappointment that awaits the woman who
only makes her selections in the upholsterer’s shop, and by daylight
alone. I have seen two materials which are absolutely the same by day
become quite contrasts at night; notably in some shades of green, which
turn brown in some materials, while in others they retain their colour,
and the result can be imagined if this mischance occurs when two
materials, such as plush and serge are used together: or when a fringe
is used which turns brown at night, on a material which does nothing of
the kind! Of course, the windows all through the house should be treated
alike, and in all should be the double or single sets of frilled muslin
curtains, according to the amount of sunshine which the special window
in question admits. Every care must be taken too in all the rooms to
keep out draughts, and to let in a certain amount of fresh air, and the
rooms must be ventilated in some manner at the top of the wall. In some
cases a brick can be removed and the opening covered within
wire-netting, the space between being filled with cotton-wool, which is
supposed to filter the incoming air; while if possible there should be a
moveable ventilator in the windows. Then Tobin’s tubes should not be
forgotten, albeit the expense of this patent is an item one should not
lightly incur. The drawing-room must be lighted by one good duplex lamp
in beaten iron or copper, from Benson in New Bond Street, or from
Strode, and the wise will have a transparent globe or shade, and will
refuse to grope about in the semi-darkness of silken-shaded light. But
the amount of further light must be determined by the owners of the room
and their pursuits, and may consist of properly weighted Standard lamps:
procurable at Benson’s, or at Bartholomew & Fletcher’s: or by one or two
movable lamps placed on steady tables. In any case great care must be
taken to ensure perfect safety; a very small table, or one that has no
double tray, should never be selected as a lamp-carrier, for if it is,
an accident is almost certain to occur. Great care should be taken in
selecting the small table-cloths which should be on all tables, and
these can be procured at Colbourne’s, Godfrey Giles, and the Cavendish
House Company Cheltenham, ready to use; and equal care should also be
taken to secure proper pictures and ornaments, which must not be
overdone in any way; while it is well to recollect that the dreadful
‘chair back’ is no longer with us, and has been completely ousted by the
Liberty frilled pillow, which is as useful as it is undoubtedly
beautiful and comfortable.
If we cannot have a new mantelpiece, let nothing induce us to have a
regulation overmantel, for never can we procure one which shall in any
way harmonise with a marble mantel; so there is no good trying to get
one, for we can’t. It is best to repeat instead the Chippendale mirrors
spoken of before, and equally good to possess oneself of the round
glasses with the eagle and ball at the top, which one often is able to
pick up in the shops in Great Portland Street along with charming bits
of real blue china, if one understands the craft of bargain-hunting, not
unless. Under any circumstances nothing but severe simplicity is
permissible. A real overmantel, which may be beautiful in itself, will
only emphasise the misery below it, in the shape of the mantelpiece, by
displaying its evident contrast to what should be a component part
thereof; while either the ‘Eagle’ or the ‘Chippendale’ has frankly ‘no
connection with the party next door,’ and is existent on its own merits
alone, and is therefore all it should be. Now one last word only, and
that is about the position of the piano. If it be a cottage grand, it
can be placed like the one in the room illustrated. A piece of brocade
should be put carelessly on the end of the piano, and kept in place by a
few books, and a tall palm should be placed on the table in the bend. No
other decoration must be allowed at all. If we have a cottage piano, it
is well to put it in one of the recesses by the fire, straight out into
the room, and to conceal its hideous back by a simple curtain on a rod,
sold by Shoolbred. We should have in a small room a piano stool to hold
music, as well as to sit upon, and in the other recess we could place
either the grandfather chair or one of the charming courting settees
sold by Hewetson. But let me implore my suburban readers, when placing
their pianos to do so with a kindly remembrance of their possible
neighbours, to select an inside wall in preference to an outside one,
and to practise whenever they can with the windows closed and carefully
fastened. I have once been near enough to other folks to suffer the
tortures of the lost from my neighbour’s piano. I cannot, therefore,
impress too much upon my readers that a good deal of real pain may be
inflicted on one’s neighbour simply because the question of the piano
has never been duly and properly weighed and considered. I suppose it
_is_ too much to suggest that no one should play and sing who has
neither taste, nor voice, nor knowledge, so I will only content myself
with remarking that the farther the piano is placed from one’s neighbour
the better, and that some consideration on this subject is due from
everyone who may possess and will manipulate that which in some hands
may be as much an instrument of torture as the wretched barrel-organ
itself!