One of the most ridiculous things possible, from an artistic point of view, for instance, is a Chippendale overmantel—that is to say, an overmantel constructed in the modern Chippendale style. Nothing of this sort was even made in the eighteenth century, though of course mirrors to go over mantelpieces were, and occasionally the decorative woodwork surrounding them was very elaborate and graceful. Really old work, however, is generally much more simple and dignified in style than the so-called reproductions. A great quantity of good old furniture, especially bureaus and book-cases, has been completely spoilt by additional inlay and superfluous carving, in order to render it more attractive to the unskilled buyer. As a rule, the sole ornamentation originally lavished on such things was a more or less elaborate moulding. It should always be borne in mind that in all really good pieces ornamentation is strictly subordinate to use. Chairs and settees were not made to exhibit eccentricity and flamboyant design, but to be sat upon, though, of course, in many specimen pieces the carving, whilst in no way flimsy or weak, is flowing and elaborate. Chippendale and other great cabinetmakers invariably started with plenty of material to work upon, and a sure sign of a spurious piece is a shallow frame, upon which the carving is cramped and flat. Modern cabinetmakers delight in producing _marqueterie_ furniture embellished with elaborate vases, trophies, scrolls, and bouquets. Sheraton and his contemporaries, on the other hand, produced their effects by relying upon the nice, graduated, and artistic tones of their veneers, rigorously excluding all over-elaboration of design. As for modern painting on furniture, it is as a rule so feeble in execution as hardly to deceive the most unskilled amateur—most of it, indeed, is nothing but a bad caricature compared with beautiful old work. As a matter of fact, it is extremely difficult to come across good old English-painted furniture in first-class condition; as a rule, it has been scratched or otherwise damaged in the course of moving, and the restorations which this has necessitated are generally only too apparent. I suppose that taste, as regards furniture, was absolutely at its lowest point some seventy years ago, during which period much beautiful Queen Anne, Sheraton, and Chippendale was relegated to the attics and the servants’ hall, its place being taken by the hideous and heavy early Victorian furniture, which the upholsterers managed to foist upon a somewhat inartistic generation.