Ingrain and three-ply carpets must be lifted every year, and that is the first thing to be done. Brussels and velvet do not need to be taken up oftener than every two years; while heavy Wiltons, Axminster, and Moquettes should not be removed oftener than every three years. The texture is so firm, no dust works through to the carpet lining beneath, and faithful sweeping and thorough use of the “carpet-sweeper” will remove the dust and moth’s eggs. Extra care will be required to clean and brush in corners, and wherever the carpets are turned in and nailed; and they must also be protected, while the walls, ceiling, and wood-work are being cleaned, by a heavy drugget spread over them, and moved from place to place as the cleaning progresses. When washing painted walls and ceilings, take care in drying them that they are wiped in straight lines, from top to bottom, and not unevenly, or in circles; for however clean you may wash the paint, careless wiping will give it a streaked and untidy appearance. Brush wall-paper carefully with a feather duster, and then pin a large towel tightly to a clean soft broom, and placing it up to the ceiling, bring it, with an even pressure, in a straight line down to the mop-board or casing. Proceed in this way until you have gone over the entire paper. It will be necessary to change the towel when it looks soiled. If this work is well done, the paper will look almost as fresh as new. In cleaning door-knobs, bell-pulls, or speaking-trumpets, cut a hole in a piece of oil-silk or soft oil-cloth, and put it round the knob or bell-pull, etc., to protect the paper or paint from being soiled. We have no room to carry these suggestions further at present, and leave your good, earnest, common-sense to practice and improve upon them. VI. WASHING-DAY. “IF it were not for the washing, housekeeping would lose half its terror. But I rise every Monday morning in a troubled and unhappy state of mind, for it is _washing-day_! The breakfast will surely be a failure, coffee muddy, meat or hash uncooked or burnt to a coal, everything untidy on the table, and the servants on the verge of rebellion. With a meek and subdued countenance, with fear and trembling, lest some unlucky word of mine may infringe upon their dignity and cause them to leave before the washing is finished, I go softly about the house.” This ought not so to be. In the first place, if you allow yourself to be kept thus in bondage to your servants, you destroy all hope of comfort. Let them once see that you fear to give them offence, and from that hour they are your tyrants.