PAINT as our partner in all the affairs of life may be a new thought, but it is an old established fact nevertheless. In reality paint is so interwoven with every turn of the wheel, that it is forever at our side, like our Siamese Twin.

Suppose we were to wake up some morning to find that paint in every form had been eliminated from the world, from our lives! What consternation, surprise, indignation, and havoc would reign everywhere! Whether for better or worse, for good or evil, it is part of the very warp and woof of our every-day existence, and what a pal and benefactor it really is. Think of our morning train, our motors, our boats, our houses, as paintless ! What a queer jumble life would be. But here stands our partner—paint—ready to jump into any breach, and make [2] life full of comfort and happiness and cheer, from the building of a new house, where the painting of every wall, every bit of trim, has to be carefully planned and decided upon, to the many small things about the house that can be transformed by the “Magic Touch” of paint.

The dear old home that has stood in rain, and wind, and snow, for years, and begins to show its many battles, seems to implore us to brighten up its faithful face. And so we do. We paint it a soft old ivory white with fresh green shutters, and it seems to expand with joy and happiness, and smiles back at us a radiant smile of thanks; and as we regard it with warm affection, we suddenly realize anew how much we love it and owe to it, and a feeling of most tender warmth fills us, and fills our day, and Life takes on a fresh beginning. We return at night with a new glow of well-being in our hearts. It passes on to our friends, to whom our radiant newly dressed house also gives joy. It permeates the very air, and indirectly works its way into unknown channels for good; for nothing we ever do can remain unto us alone. Every act, however [3] small, has its immediate reaction, like the circles made by a pebble, spreading ever wider, far beyond our vision. The whole community is cheered because of our freshly painted house.

Take the practical side. Suppose you have a house you want to sell. It is shabby, down at the heel, forlorn and sad. If you will put it in condition and paint it inside and out (give it the “Magic Touch”), your chances for selling it are ten to one in your favor. You present your house at its best, at its highest possibilities. Everything depends upon the way a thing is presented. A purchaser immediately sees what it really looks like. One out of a hundred prospective purchasers has the imagination to see it in his mind’s eye and realize its possibilities, if he first beholds it in its downtrodden state. Besides, he isn’t buying possibilities, he wants to see what he is buying. He sees it, he likes it, he buys it. The “Magic Touch” has brought it fresh, beautiful, and living to his recognition. In his mind’s eye he sees his family installed, happy and cozy, within its cheerful walls. The deed is done. The house is sold. [4] Then the joy that paint brings into our lives, the radiance, the color. We all love color, color that Nature first taught us to love. How can we bring it into our midst, with its gay vibrant song? By paint, and only by paint. And so again our debt to paint grows greater with our realization of all that it can mean.

Paint is so clean. Almost any condition of grubbiness can be made sanitary and wholesome by paint, and it keeps out and prevents illness and disorders.

The use of paint is as old as history. We find it on the mummy cases of Egypt, on the shores of the leaden, swinging Nile, though the medium used then was wax mixed with the pigment. The medium has changed, but it has gone down the ages, steadily at our sides, varying, growing, developing, never standing still, active, ready for any call of life. It went into the Service, holding off the iron rain of shell on the painted dust-colored helmets of our boys, thus eliminating the target they would otherwise have made; camouflaging our ships, our trains, our tanks, and our trucks. It helped in all [5] the campaigns. What would we have done without the posters, the banners, the inspiration offered by paint on every hand? We couldn’t have done anything without it, without its magic. It is part of life and a very serious part of it. It transforms; it brings joy and gladness in its train. It is sanitary, it is practical, it is most constructive; only good follows in its wake.

Paint is historical, and teaches us much. Take the characteristic painting of the Norse countries. The furniture used in the peasants’ houses is painted in flat, hard, brilliant colors, expressive of the climate. It is a record of what people see and feel, and so translate into their lives and surroundings. The subtle, inscrutable, complicated civilization of the East is expressed in the Oriental painting of every description, meticulous as it is, detailed, and filled with most exquisite color of every possible nuance, the most delicate shades and tones.

Paint is pigment, or color, and a medium, whether it be oil or wax, or something else by which it is applied, but it has its own [6] far reaching psychology. It is inspirational, and really spiritual in its reaction on mankind. We may paint a house for the most practical of reasons, to preserve it from the weather, but we are carried, in spite of ourselves, beyond the point of hard fact, to a certain positive feeling of pleasure and satisfaction and joy it gives us.

Back of all seeming hard, cold facts lies the truth of Life: it is Inspiration. For that reason our debt to Paint mounts higher and higher, as we think about it and realize that it is in very close association with everything about us, a very vital part of our human existence, and that we could not, at the present stage of our development, possibly be comfortable, or clean, or happy without the “Magic Touch,” the Miracle of the wonderful “Partnership of Paint.”

NATURE is unerring in her choice and use of color. She is the mistress of color, always in good taste and the greatest respecter of the fitness of things. In the main, her dress is green and brown and grey in a frame of blue and white. To relieve the monotony, she punctuates her work with spots of brightness that stand out in harmonious contrasts.

From earliest Spring days she operates a kaleidoscope which brings changes to the eye and keeps it interested and unwearied of the transitions which gain in attractiveness as she touches time with her wand and carries us unwittingly through a maze of hueful glory.

In her scheme of things, she uses gold and pink, lilac and amethyst, crimson and green, blue and purple, yellow and [8] brown, orange, buff and neutral silvers and drab. Go where you will in the flower months and you cannot get away from her combinations of colors.

In March she brings the trailing arbutus into blossom with its delicate pink flowers nestling in a bed of green. April comes with her lap filled with wild honeysuckle, with its red spurs that seem to be a reception committee to balmy days and renewed life. So it goes as the season advances. Nature is never violent in her selections of color. From the departure of snow to the turning of the leaves in Autumn, she teaches us the use of color, and never once going wrong. With May comes the beautiful wild lady’s slipper, followed in June by the grass-pink. The spring season is a pink and green season, and with the warmer days, meadow and roadside, woods and swamps become dotted with stronger colors until in September the golden-rod and Jo Pye weed vie with each other in the carnival of beauty.

So, if we would put harmony in the surroundings which make home, we will do [9] well to follow the order and the skill of this scheme of universal decoration.

Let us consider, if you please, the spirit of home-making as nature herself and the home and the rooms within it as nature and the seasons passing in review. It is the purpose of this book to treat of the home in its entirety and of all the elements that go to make it. For inasmuch as all things are relative, it becomes imperative to consider the details as well as the project of general requirements.

Let us picture and see the home from the outside and the inside points of view. Let us see the physical structure and its uses. Let us not only make walls but a place to live, ready for its owner to walk into, sink into an easy-chair and meet eye rest and mental satisfaction, called comfort.

LET us assume that this home is to be built in the country, or at least in a suburb where there is still enough of nature’s garb to give proper setting. There is nothing so good for a background as nature-made landscape; and if we cannot dwell in a home that is a part of it, we can choose a spot where some of its elements have been spared the axe of over-zealous man.

See to it that your site has trees that may be permitted to remain if this is possible. And see to it too that their roots are not mutilated in the business of building. The next matter of importance is room at the front for a flower garden, however small it may be. For a front garden is like the opening chapter of a book. It gives an idea of what to expect as one proceeds up the path to the presentation of an idea. [11] The more green with which you can surround your home, the prettier it will be; the more inviting from the outside, the more restful within. A man who spent his working hours in the city once said that he wouldn’t take a thousand dollars a morning for the view which he had with his breakfast and the green he saw from his easy-chair on his porch.

The home should be a part of the landscape. It should not be a violent spot either in design or color. It should look as if it grew in its surroundings with the flowers and shrubs and trees. It should be designed by a good architect. It is no part of this little book to create rules. It is rather a suggestion or series of suggestions which may or may not be fully accepted as your taste may prompt.

It may be that you have already built your home, but these suggestions are quite as applicable as to a new home. To meet entirely your specific needs it would be necessary to consult an interior decorator of good repute. These pages are intended to apply in a general way, though details are discussed at some length. [12] To return to the structure: There are no better examples of domestic architecture than many of the simple homes of New England. These are almost invariably white with green trim. Their interiors were designed for comfort. Their gardens are literally festivals of color from early Spring until late Autumn. They are restrained in character, refreshingly free of “ornament,” dignified, restful and pleasant. They come nearer fulfilling the true conception of “Home” than any type of building which has since been evolved.

The one important reason why this character of home is successful in most sections of the country is that it is built from wood—the best medium for artistic expression, in the opinion of many. If you have doubts of the lasting qualities of wood, you have only to remember that the models in question have stood in many instances for more than a century, kept young and useful by an occasional coat of your partner, paint.

Of course, there are other media of architectural expression. The stucco house is [13] favored by many, especially when it is used in conjunction with half timber effect—borrowed from our English cousins who use it structurally and sincerely, while the general run of homes in America in this transplanted style are built from the motif of appearance alone. In some cases, the supposed timbers have been fashioned from galvanized iron, untruthful in purpose and useless as a part of the building. Even when wood is used it is in fanciful patterns created for the eye alone, from ordinary boards.

The wooden home is essentially American in spirit and design. In the early days wood was used because it was the only available material, quarrying not having been introduced and bricks being imported from England and Holland at great expense. Besides, it was only necessary to cut and artifice a material growing on every hand for adequate shelter against all weathers. The material of necessity proved so lasting, so easy to work and so low in cost that the consideration of other materials was superfluous.

[14] Now, as then, bricks and stone are almost prohibitive in cost even to the well-to-do, while wood is not only the cheapest but the most natural elemental building material. It is the easiest worked, costs the least from the standpoint of labor charges, and can be changed in color at will to meet a desire for a new effect.

So let us consider first the wooden home and discuss the details of the exterior from the point of view of beauty, brought about by a wise choice of color.

White is the preferred color for exterior painting; that is, for the broad surfaces. The blinds, window-trim, porch columns and in many cases the cornices may be one of numerous color tones. The picture which we must consider is one which nature would approve, so restraint is in order, whatever our selections may be. Following is a presentation of a variety of combinations, all of which will blend with any landscape and become a part of it.

As there are so many different shades of each color, we mention the technical trade [15] names, by which the intended color is known.

We must remember that harmonious contrast is in order, and there are greens and [17] greens, greys and greys, browns and browns. In incompetent hands, the best color scheme ever planned may be rendered hideous. Home should not be a paint-maker’s color card, and cannot be successful unless your own taste and individuality are reflected in its dress, inside or out.

Assuming that you live on a street containing representative American homes, we must plan the color treatment of your own so that it will not appear violent in comparison with that of your neighbor’s. You have no doubt seen the deplorable result of a variance of preference when one side of a semi-detached residence has been painted white and the other half done in green. The straight, sharp line of demarcation showed that each neighbor cared nothing about what the other thought of it—and less about the neighborhood spirit.

We have assumed in our seven suggestions that the house is one of board construction. If it be of brick, it must be considered from a somewhat different point of view. Brick and stone are elemental [18] in character and are better unpainted. The little exterior wood trim should generally be done in very light colors, white and buff being in order with shutters white, buff or bright green. Sashes may be dark if one chooses. There is much less choice of colors to use with brick because there is so little variation in the tones of the brick itself. The same is practically true of stucco, save that it may be colored to suit almost any fancy. The general use of grey is prevalent, and inasmuch as grey harmonizes with nearly all other colors, the same treatments of trim as mentioned in our previous suggestions may be applied to stucco buildings.

Shingle houses offer less variety of choice as far as color is concerned, but there are good and substantial reasons why shingles should be painted, rather than left to the weather. In the first place, there never has been a shingle roof which has not required patching at more or less frequent intervals. The patch, usually a fresh, uncolored shingle, becomes startlingly conspicuous when set among its older, weather-stained neighbors. When the shingles are painted, repairs can be [19] made as often as necessary, and a coat of paint on the new pieces preserves the harmony of color and does not flaunt their newness.

Painted shingles have a far greater resistance to fire than unpainted shingles. While it is true that the oil in paint is inflammable, it is equally true that, after drying, the surface is practically metallic and to a high degree fire-resisting. Painted shingles do not warp, with the result that they do not form pockets in which a burning cinder or spark could settle. Furthermore, actual experience proves that painted shingles are rain-proof and remain so as long as the paint endures.

Painted shingles of a color in harmony with the rest of the house, are, first of all, a good investment; second, good protection; and third, pleasing and attractive to look at.

The secret of successful house-painting is in the maintenance of a neutral effect, with enough of color to give relief to the eye. Monotony is as offensive as too [20] much variety. So our task is to establish a medium that shall be happy and tasteful.

Let us not forget that the renewal of paint at stated intervals is quite necessary and should be made at least once every four years. Only a good master painter should be employed—one who believes in the use of good paint and good craftsmen. Given paint of first quality, two workmen may produce entirely different results. From the work of one may follow long wear and weather resistance, and from the other a coating that will prove short-lived and inferior, with peeling and blistering of the surface.

The time to paint depends more upon the weather than upon the season. In many parts of the country the cool clear days of Fall afford as good and sometimes better working conditions than the Spring. The season is inconsequential. Dry weather is the most important consideration.

COLOR and arrangement are the two most important factors in developing a sympathetic and attractive interior. Color —first, last and always. The importance of color is only just beginning to be recognized. The reaction psychologically is very powerful—and very subtle.

How often, on entering a room or a house, one has felt an overpowering sense of gloom and depression—strong enough to make conversation almost impossible, so heavy were one’s spirits! If analyzed, the cause of this could almost invariably be traced to color.

A charming old country house, lovely in line and type, had, when purchased, an [22] entrance hall about 25 feet square, running through the width of the house at that point, with a Dutch door and two windows opening onto a garden at the rear. This hall had a fireplace and a finely proportioned long low mantel. A wonderful possibility! But—the walls were covered with deep red paper of an enormous pattern, with yellow grained varnish on the trim—gloomy, repellent and most hideous.

The paper was removed, likewise the yellow grained varnish; the walls were panelled; and walls, trim and ceiling were all done in soft, creamy, flat-tone paint.

A long box under a group of windows, built in with mouldings and panelling like the walls to the left of the door as one entered, was covered with a cushion of a small patterned velvet in dull gold. This box held golf clubs, tennis rackets and other odds and ends very conveniently. The lighting fixtures were black sconces with raised lacquer in gold. An old black lacquer Chinese chest with raised gold decorations served as a wood box and gave color and character.

[23] Above this hung a black Chinese lacquer mirror of Queen Anne type. An inexpensive Chinese rug of blue with gold figures covered the centre of the floor, which had been properly varnished and waxed. Some Canton willow chairs with a low table of the same, cushions of plain Chinese blue and of brocades in Chinese design of blues, old golds and black carried out the idea of color. The room was made so attractive that it was decided to place the piano there. The windows, being small and many-paned, were hung to the sill with sheer sash curtains against the panes and soft old gold silk at either side of the window, all pulled back so that the vista into the gardens might not be obscured—a vital point in a country house.

In one corner stood an oleander bush which reached to the ceiling—a distance of only nine feet—but imagine the glow of color, the light streaming through the old gold curtains and bits of gold, blue and black everywhere against the cream-painted background. A standing lamp of wrought iron whose parchment shade was banded with blue and gold, lighted the piano. It all welcomed you most [24] charmingly. An entrance like this must express a happy, cheerful household. One had a sense of pleasure and expansion at once on entering.... Then close your eyes and think of the red paper and yellow varnish. What a comparison!

The living room, opening off directly to the right, had its walls done in a soft Colonial yellow flat tone with cream trim; old mahogany furniture was covered in soft brown and dull old greens; an Oriental rug of great beauty and unusual coloring in golds, browns, tans and blues covered the floor. A piece of old brocade hung flat against the chimney breast, against which was hung a long oblong antique Colonial mirror. A pair of old brass candlesticks stood on the mantel with a bowl of laurel leaves reflected in the mirror in the middle; brass andirons and fender—all gave sparkle and life to the room. A wing chair with a low table at its left, on which stood a reading lamp, was placed beside the fire and gave a very inviting touch. There were no fixtures in this room, but many lamps all with gold colored silk shades. The rooms all opened so closely into one another that it [25] was felt best to employ the same colors, though differently expressed.

The trim, throughout the entire house, which was small, with very low ceilings, was kept in the soft creamy tones. The wainscoted dining room had the same soft creamy paint, with a very quaint old black-backgrounded paper above the wainscoting, which was part of the original old house. Old brass sconces made into fixtures added another quaint touch, with soft yellow silk shades lined with deep rose to give a glow of color when lighted. Old mahogany table, chairs, sideboard and corner wall cupboard fastened high up into the corner. The floor, which was finished in a very dark stain, varnished and waxed, was covered with a dark brown—“tête de negre”—seamless chenille rug. None of it expensive, none of it done in a “scheme,” yet all harmonious, happy and unobtrusive.

The loveliest rooms are those that grow from one thing to another as the suggestion is developed. Of course, if your house is so pure in style or period as intelligently to call for only the period furniture [26] of its type, that is a different proposition. We are dealing here with the ordinary conditions of thousands of our American homes—houses and apartments that have no special architecture or “period” background to work up to.

The guest bedroom contained a motley collection which would have cost much to replace with desirable and attractive furniture. An inexpensive copy of a French chintz paper in lovely soft blues and red pinks was found to cover the walls. The trim was painted creamy white. Then, as an inspiration, it was decided to paint the furniture, and a soft dull blue which was in the paper was decided upon. Everything—brass beds, bureau, chiffonier, desk and chairs, all were painted old blue. The dressing table had a much too ornate cheap mirror which was removed entirely and a small antique mahogany shaving mirror was stood on the dressing table in its place. Copies of old hardware handles, etc., replaced the common commercial variety. A red mulberry carpet rug (also one of the tones in the paper) made a wonderful background for the [27] blue furniture, the floor having been properly done as to finish, varnishing, etc. At the windows were organdie curtains ruffled and looped back—no other hangings. The whole made a most charming room.

The same thing was done with another bedroom, in which a soft green instead of blue was used. The trim was done in the same creamy white; a green and white striped paper covered the walls. Again everything, beginning with the brass beds, was painted. An inexpensive English block print chintz was used in this room for curtains. A chaise longue was upholstered in this same chintz which had pink and soft mauves to offset and balance the green paint. Bed spreads with a full gathered valance covered as much of the ugly brass bed as possible. A dark green carpet rug was used,—and so another room was transformed by a coat of paint, at small expense, using what one had and painting all to bring it together happily. A few pieces of old mahogany or walnut can always be used in a room with painted furniture and they relieve the hardness which sometimes [28] occurs with certain types of this kind.

In another old house in New Jersey, the large living room had an old cupboard with a wonderful green on the panels of the doors. This made the starting point for that room. The color was copied and all the trim, doors and cornices done in this tone. The walls were painted a flat cream. A very simple type of wicker furniture, painted black, was used, with old gold cushions of very inexpensive material. Portieres of this same material were hung. The fireplace was painted black—mantel and all—and black wrought iron lamps with parchment shades of cream with old gold bands and black lines were used. Ruffled curtains of organdie looped back were at the windows.... And, at a very small outlay, simply the application of color and paint, a really delightful room was evolved.

It is always best to keep to the simplest types in furniture, avoiding cheap adaptations and the kind of wicker furniture that is full of scrolls and fancy loops.

[29]

A living room in an apartment had a most distressing look when first beheld by its prospective tenants. The apartment was in an old-fashioned house which had been made over. The doors and trim were of heavy solid oak with a yellow grained varnish finish—very expensive and very ugly. Nothing could look well against such a background.

This was entirely refinished and painted a soft dull green with a gold line on the smaller mouldings. The walls were tinted a greenish grey, the ceiling a soft, dull browny gold. At the windows were hung, only to the sill, filet net curtains, with old gold silk pushed back at the sides, both curtains hanging flat against the window pane to give full value to the deep embrasure of the window and do justice to the panelling and architectural detail.

In this room a lovely English glazed chintz was used to cover the large davenport and large winged chair. Pleated valances were used on these pieces. The chintz had a very soft pinky tan background with flowers in red pink and blue [30] and yellow, producing a very old mellow effect. The other odd pieces of furniture were covered in a dull dark old blue. Built-in sunken book-cases flush with the wall were filled with books whose bindings reflected again the colors in the chintz. A fireplace of Italian design in dull green and gold composition with a pair of very quaint andirons of Italian reproduction and fixtures of the same style made another note in the room.

A very beautiful old Sheraton table was pulled up to the left of the guest as he sat on the davenport, which was placed at right angles to the fireplace, and held magazines, books and a large reading lamp with a gold colored shade. A room which was a mixture of English, Italian and Colonial, yet the effect of which was warm, soft and most sympathetic—all of which would have been impossible with the yellow varnished oak background originally in the room.

In every one of the rooms described, extraordinary results were produced by paint and color at small expense.

[31] Arrangement is most important and furniture should be shifted and changed about until, by the very sense of balance you get, suddenly you know you have hit it.

It is right. The light falls in just the right way over your shoulder as you read, write or sew. The chairs are grouped in the living room in such a way that friends dropping in for tea find a cozy spot at once. It is not a question of vast expense. With the right touch and the right color it can be done with most satisfactory results and really marvellous things can be done with paint. Every room herein described has actually been done.

In furnishing the Hostess Houses at the Camps throughout the country, wonderful effects were produced almost entirely with color and paint. The men craved color. They were weary of khaki, tans and dust color, and their joy in and appreciation of the Hostess Houses was a delight to see. Expensive fabrics were out of the question. How, then, to get color? By paint! Perfectly ordinary kitchen [32] chairs and tables in the cafeterias were painted soft light cheerful greens. Body color coats of brilliant warm orange and deep royal blue were given to a very simple type of wicker chair in the huge living rooms. The effect of these masses of color offset by the khaki of the men was gay and cheerful beyond words. Large paper shades of orange color shaded the lamps. The rooms glowed with a joy and welcome that none of the men failed to appreciate.

Make your homes as gay and cheerful as you possibly can, not “jumpy” with hard, unlovely color, but as full of warm soft tones as you can get them, remembering always that Home must be a place of peace and rest as well as joy.

We feel like echoing the sentiment of the old Gloucester fisherman who gave his schooner a new coat of paint in the spring, and, gazing with pride and admiration at his work, remarked, “Ain’t it wonderful what a lick o’ paint’ll do!”

IN these servantless days, the bungalow type of house grows more and more popular. It is compact, convenient; it only asks for a simple type of furniture. A mixture of good willow, painted or left in its natural color, in the body, and with the braided edge painted or stained; some old mahogany or walnut pieces, if you are fortunate enough to own them, mix in well, or good simple reproductions. By walnut furniture I do not mean the hideous black walnut “Eastlake” types. These, with their scrolls and marble tops and glooms, are, I hope, forever relegated to oblivion.

I shudder now in remembrance of a set of black walnut furniture in my grandmother’s bedroom, particularly an enormous bureau, with its marble top, huge great mirror supported by carved columns that wiggled upward, and topped [34] over all by massive carved grapes. How I gazed in awe while a terrible stillness always filled me as I planted my small person in front of it!

And oh! the terrible “best rooms” of the past! I remember a friend telling me that in her father’s house the “best room” door was never left open. That closed door, at the foot of the stairs—how it filled her with absolute horror! And she had a trick of throwing herself around the newel post with a tremendous swing—with enough “way” to land her up two or three steps of the stairs if she was going up, or ’way round, well past that awful door, if she was coming down stairs. Imagine the effect on that little mind. And the shrinking terror with which she grew up. The awful something behind those doors! What was it? What an opportunity for an inhibition! The “best room,” thank Fate, has forever left us, and in its place we are putting the living room where the family draws magnetically together. Wonderful if it has an open fire, and most bungalows now have. The open fire is the soul of a room. We gravitate toward it instinctively. We [35] group our furniture round it. We draw up chairs, stools, anything to get within its cheerful glow.

Arrange your furniture with some meaning, in groups if it is a large room. There is the group around the fire; the group around the tea table; the group around the reading table, with its glow of light, centred to draw the family together in peace and concord.

Above all things avoid “small junk.” The sins that are committed in the name of “bric-à-brac” can never be atoned for. There is no Hades big enough! And the amount of money that is spent is appalling. If you can’t have a few fine bits, preferably antique, there are many modern Chinese porcelains that are lively and full of color. Don’t be afraid of empty spaces—books, flowers, a work box, all have meaning and purpose. There never was a drawing room too fine for a lady’s work box; and what a sense of cozy human sympathy it always has—the chair beside a low table with a work box, a vase of flowers, a book. That brings us to another point. Have low tables—as many [36] as your room will hold—without crowding, of course, and instead of cheap, utterly meaningless junk—cheap though it may have cost much actual money—have flowers, or green branches of laurel leaves or a small growing plant; and a book or magazine on a low table placed beside the chair where your family or guest may take comfort and pleasure.

To go back to our starting point—the bungalow. Arrange any rooms on the first floor so that they do not clash, not necessarily using the same tones but as far as possible letting the colors in one room lead into another or carry on a suggestion from one to another. In other words, keep your vista so that the effect, while not being monotonous, avoids the chopped-up restless result we have when we break up our space by too many colors. Have your house restful and keep away from the temptation to put too many things about. Rather do as the Japanese—keep a lot in the closet and change them around. Have a large table with a large lamp whose shade permits a wide radius of light, so that several persons may sit within its circle. Put books [37] and magazines and papers on the table or in little racks, for your bungalow living room is an informal room. Parchment lamp-shades are lovely in a bungalow and can be made plain with bands of color or with a design, depending on the material used for cushions, etc. Have one or two large divans with loose cushions, depending on the size of your living room. Over-stuffed pieces look much smarter and most intimate if upholstered in chintzes. If your chintz is delicate in color and design, have fitted slip covers well made with corded seams and pleated valances. Very tailored these must be—not at all the loose baggy things we put on as dust-covers in summer. The finest drawing rooms in England have these fitted slip covers, and the delicate chintzes can thus be easily cleansed.

In the niches or corners between your rooms put large Spanish or Moorish jars, which come in a very inexpensive pottery vivid in color; and one can always get a bough of green to put in them.

Of course there are many types of bungalows, from the very simple ones with pine [38] sheathed varnished walls to the permanent type with plastered and tinted walls, which permit of a more elaborate and permanent kind of furnishings.

For the primitive bungalow, grass rugs or those made of fiber, of which there are many charming and very smart ones to choose from, are very effective, if your furnishings are very simple and you haven’t much color about. But in the permanent type of house almost any kind of carpet rug, Oriental or Chinese rug can be used.

Have only lamps in your living room, lots of them; no side lights, though these in simple appropriate design are most attractive and necessary in the dining room, as you have no overhead light and no other light except your table candles. Painted furniture is most charming in a bungalow dining room, or you can use painted chairs and a mahogany table. The color in your rooms should be determined by the exposure of your house.

Personally I like paper in country bedrooms. There are so many very pretty [39] papers that are reproductions of fine old chintz designs, that give a deliciously crisp fresh look, and it is so easy to take one of the colors in the paper as your color scheme for the room. Paint up a lot of old furniture if you have it; body color it some tone in your paper and put lines of another color; or if you can paint, take some motive in your paper or chintz and reproduce it on your furniture. Don’t be in a hurry to do it all at once. It will grow—one thing will suggest another and it becomes a perfectly fascinating sort of game.

If your wall has a flowered paper, it is well to use some plain material for curtains—or something with very inconspicuous pattern. If your windows are very small and your house is where no one can see in, have your sash window curtains pushed well back to give you all the beauty of your view. Let in all the sunshine and air you possibly can.

For country bedrooms nothing is prettier than dotted swiss—or organdie or ordinary book muslin, made with little ruffles on the inside. They dress up a room at [40] once; and remember this—that if your windows are properly handled, your curtains well chosen and well made, your room is half—more than half—done, for immediately on entering a room our gaze goes toward the window. Really enchanting curtains can be made of ginghams and voiles and many materials that one sees in the day’s shopping. For bedrooms a valance of chintz over the muslin window curtain will give up color—if we don’t want chintz curtains at the sides of our window.

Be very careful that you get the right shade of your color. There are blues that are warm and blues that are very cold. Pink can be one of the hardest tones I know, if it is in a room with the wrong exposure. Some yellows are sunny, others very dull. You have to try them in your rooms—each with its own angle of exposure and light and reflection.

In your verandah furnishings you have room for no end of color. You can let yourself go to your heart’s content—not freakish color but good strong ringing tones. The out of doors absorbs them in [41] such a way that they are never garish or hard. Avoid heavy stuffy coverings and portieres, avoid “schemes” of decoration. Plan for comfort, for a suitable background that expresses the life of the family living within the walls of your house. Keep your floors low in tone—a well finished floor has much to do as a background with all the furniture we place upon it. See that it is well stained and polished and your wall tones soft and neutral. Be sincere—don’t do things for effect, but let your home express your life and in return it will give you joy and comfort.

WE all know the kind of narrow house with the black hole of a middle room to be found all over New York City. How people endured the gloom of it all is a mystery. I once was asked to do over a house of this kind. The walls and woodwork were tinted a dark brown. The middle room was practically useless. My client said rather pathetically: “Can’t this be made a place where the men would like to linger and smoke?”—it adjoined the dining room. “They now run through it as fast as they can to the library above, which is cheerful.” I didn’t wonder. Even a piano and a “canned music” cabinet couldn’t hold them.

I immediately had all the woodwork scraped and panelled and painted a soft old ivory. I found an English chintz [43] with large flowers in the gayest of rose and blue and mauve tones on a cream background. It was some time before I could convince my client that the chintz was what she wanted—but I have since had the satisfaction of having her tell me she loves it more each year. I knew she would!

The curtains and portieres between the dark middle room and the dining room—the darkest spot in the room—were made of this beautiful chintz, so full of color and life. A large arm-chair was covered with it and placed where you couldn’t resist it as you came out of the dining room; a low table with a lamp was placed beside the chair, the only light in the room previously having come from remote wall fixtures. Small low tables for coffee cups also had lamps. Several pieces of furniture were covered in the rose red—a wonderful shade—in the chintz, and warm old rose rugs deep in tone were used. The room was transformed. And my client laughingly said she couldn’t get the men away from it. The moment they began to use it the charm began to work; the evening papers [44] with their various items of interest placed on a table as a lure made a topic for conversation and the ice was broken. Conversations begun at the table were easily continued over the coffee cups and cigarettes. The room still had a distinct dignity and formality as well, but it had the charm that only color can give.

We applied the same treatment to the library on the second floor, where golden oak trim and green walls flaunted their ugliness. The oak was rubbed down, stained and waxed, hand rubbed to make a soft velvety English oak finish. A putty colored wall was used, a wonderful tone where subdued yellow and green blended marvellously; beautiful Chinese rugs of exquisite golden brown backgrounds—a rare color in Chinese rugs—all made the setting, the frame for all else that was used in the room. Book-cases built awkwardly out into the room were removed and placed in a heaven-sent niche which we acquired by ripping out two closets full of junk that were placed between the library and bedroom adjoining. These niches were large enough to hold a desk on one side and a [45] table with a reading light on the other, the walls being lined with shelves and filled with books. The space made by removing the shelves from the room allowed us to place very comfortably in just the right light a baby grand piano.

This room had two great points of architectural background: a very well proportioned semi-circular window seat commanding a heavenly view of the river and Palisades, with casement windows of small leaded panes and a deep window seat; and a large fireplace framed in the most villainous shade of green glazed tile and a wildly ornate “over-mantel” with endless jig-saw wreaths and mirrors galore in panels. The ornamentation was most carefully planed off—the over-mantel and its mirrors entirely removed, leaving a very nicely proportioned low mantel, absolutely simple. The hearth was re-tiled in old English clay tiles and wrought iron fire-irons and andirons supplanted the modern brass of hideous and much ornamented design. The same furniture recovered was unrecognizable in its new background.

[46] The only light came from the large bay window which took up practically the entire width of the room. Only very thin curtains of grenadine covered the windows, with a hanging at either end of the arch to give color and soften the frame. It is marvellous, once our eyes are opened to the possibilities of the changes we can bring about in our surroundings. And if only people can be made to realize the extraordinary reaction on their lives—in their spirits, in their very health itself. Wasn’t it Whistler who said, after a visit to Walt Whitman: “The room was furnished by a large earthen jar filled with golden-rod and sunshine”?

It requires thought and judgment and it results in a gain to us of perception and observation. You can gain some sort of a result out of almost any collection of furniture if you will place it with a view to producing a livable arrangement, just as, on the other hand, you can “queer” very beautiful things by a poor arrangement.

Bear in mind that the home your children will remember is the home they are [47] growing up in now, today, and its effect is now reacting on all their future lives. I honestly believe that much illness would be spared if we tried to make our homes more happy in color and furnishings. It is not possible to be gloomy in a room full of sunshine and color and life.

You can get a gloomy result with very beautiful furniture. Men decorators (I am sorry to have to say it) generally do get this result. Their interiors are handsome, expensive, but heavy, and never by any chance intimate or charming. You can make a home with a red geranium, a muslin curtained window, a few unpainted chairs, a freshly scrubbed floor and a clear kerosene lamp. It’s all in the touch; and once we are awakened to it, and begin to see that, we can do wonders.

A last word is about kitchens—in New England, last summer, I was taken with great pride by my hostess into her kitchen, which was a revelation. The floor was tiled in dark red, the walls were lined with shelves on which stood all the pots and jars (containing ingredients of every kind) with bands of old blue decorations. [48] A large table, with a double frame going up horizontally from the sides, made two racks, on which to hang the spotless shining utensils. Gingham curtains with valances hung at the grouped windows on either side, as the room occupied the width of the wing drawn out to build this model kitchen. Flowers in pots stood in a row on the window sill. No wonder we were served delicious food. The cook’s face and that of her assistant shone like their pots. Work in such surroundings became a pleasant task. And my last plea is to make your home happy by the right furnishings and your lives will be filled with the joy of them. It isn’t a question of money alone. Much can be done with little. It is just giving it the right touch.

PAINT is a good business partner. It has helped make fortunes. When Frank Woolworth started his chain of five and ten cent stores he made them easy to identify. He had the fronts of them painted red. And a brilliant red it is. It has become so much a part of the Woolworth enterprises that you need no sign to tell you that a certain kind of merchandise is sold within.

What town hasn’t a “blue-front” hardware store or grocery? And what town hasn’t a “red front” tea and coffee store? These color signals are often the only guides needed by a child, no matter how young, in finding the desired mart when sent on an errand. Paint becomes truly a beacon when intelligently used for the purpose.

[50] A jeweler in a large American city was concerned because the light in his store was poor even under artificial illumination. In talking the matter over, a friend suggested that he change his color scheme and make his woodwork white. He had strong objections, because his fixtures were of mahogany, which had cost a great deal of money; but after carefully considering the matter, he took his friend’s advice. The result was amazing. His place of business became the best lighted shop in town. His wares were displayed to better advantage and his trade grew because that interior was cheerful, inviting and practical with its ivory-like cases and trim. He made a transformation with two coats of white enamel over three coats of flat white.

A scale manufacturer wondered why his market didn’t grow as he thought it should. He made good scales—accurate and thoroughly finished. But they were painted black. Scales had always been painted black. But one day someone told him that white would be better. He hadn’t thought of it, but he determined to try it. He tried two colors—white and [51] light blue. And his sales increased faster than he had previously thought they should.

A small town implement dealer was stuck with a yellow-wheeled wagon. No one liked yellow wheels. So he repainted them a brilliant red and the wagon was sold the following week.

Color determines the value of many commodities. You could sell a black buggy with red wheels, but few would buy a red body and black wheels. Folks aren’t accustomed to things in reverse from the usual in most cases, though in other cases reverse is the magnet which produces results—as did the light colored scales.

Gas ranges used to be all black. Now they are made with enamelled parts of white or light blue, and many of them are done in all white and light blue. A hardware man made the statement that he sold three oil heaters with a light blue cylinder to one with a black cylinder.

Women demand white kitchens with white enamel sinks. They want white [52] refrigerators and white bread and cake boxes. Prospective mothers will insist upon a light blue or light pink basinette for the expected babe.

So many things sold broadcast are painted black—black handles on dust brushes and wire potato mashers, on tack claws, on vacuum cleaners. Why? Color makes sales. Why not use it?

To be sure, there are many elemental materials of characteristic color. Ebony is deep brown, almost black. Painting it in most cases would be as sensible as gilding the pump handle; but there are many things spoiled in appearance by black paint, only because we haven’t courage to violate custom, and exchange a sad color for a glad one.

Who could sell all black toys? What boy wants a black wagon or wheelbarrow? What girl wants a black parasol? And she prefers light blue shoes, for dolly, to black ones. Just try it and see. Boys accept black toy locomotives because real ones are black and for no other reason.

[53] What do you make? Is it something made more enduring or more practical by a coat of paint? Just try bright colors. Paint will help you toward bigger sales, if you will. There is a washing machine—on the market only a short time. It is blue. And it is named after a bird. It is selling like wild-fire, so it is said. Its name makes it easy to remember and women are asking for it all over the country.

Think of paint as an advertising medium. In an eastern city a florist operates delivery cars that are painted a beautiful green. Everybody in town knows him—and it seems as if everybody in town who buys flowers, buys them at his shop. A wholesale grocery concern in another city has its fleet of trucks painted a brilliant crimson in key with their advertising campaign for Crimson Band Coffee. Every one of these trucks always looks as if it had just left the paint shop. Their owners believe in the partnership of paint. Paint is a loyal friend to your balance in bank, for it protects and beautifies everything of yours which it covers. In your office, paint makes cheerful surroundings. [54] It makes an agreeable atmosphere. In your store, it makes an effectual background for your goods. If you operate a factory, it will make better light and better work. It will save wood and metal from rust and decay. It gives the exterior of your plant an air of prosperity and creates a pride of connection in the minds of employes. Paint makes cheer inside and outside, in home or business home. It costs little and does a great deal. The renewal of paint is common sense, whether it is made on walls, woodwork, metal cornice, roof or motor truck.

Paint is economy. It gives more real service for the cash outlay than any other protective element. It is insurance against ugliness of buildings, against the bad effects of snow, rain, hot sun. It plays a strong and constant part in down-keep and makes wood and metal stay youthful. It keeps doors and windows from warping and buckling, because it keeps out dampness.

The partnership of paint is many sided, from the standpoint of utility and good looks. Its good offices are illustrated on [55] every hand. If a man wants to keep a piece of property, he paints it. If he wants to sell it, he paints it. If he wants a good rental for it, he keeps his paint and varnish renewed.

Paint is powerful. It influences us all, all of our lives. It is as personal in its relation to industry as you are. It has a way of sticking to business and growing more useful every day. Those who believe in paint and use it, are known for their thrifty ways. The tumble-down citizen always lives in the unpainted weather-grey house on the edge of town—the same chap who borrows coal from his neighbor and change from his wife.

Paint is always good. The colored stuff which peels, checks and blisters in a few months, isn’t paint at all. It is poor stuff to buy. You can generally tell what it is, before you use it, because it doesn’t cost enough to be good. Good paint pays because it lasts three times as long as color in disguise.

Buy and use good paint and varnish. It pays to pay the little difference in first [56] cost. It is the same as buying an all-wool garment in preference to a cotton one. Good paint is an asset in business. The other kind is worse than a liability. It is an attachment against your operating costs.