To sum up this chapter briefly, then: let no move be made, unless such a course is absolutely imperative; let it be done in order and with regularity; and make no rushes into friendship in your new neighbourhood until you have discovered who is who, and made due inquiries on this subject; and, above all, under all circumstances, if fate has absolutely obliged you to make that particular move, make the best of it, and don’t always either mentally or openly contrast your present abode unfavourably and bad-temperedly with your last location. You have to live where you have pitched your tent: therefore, bad as the place may appear to you, try and smother your feelings until use has made you reconciled to your new surroundings, even if ‘home’ has not asserted its charm and caused you to become fond of the place, because your best and dearest are there with you. It will be an effort, I can assure you, to do so, but if you are strong-minded enough to suffer in silence, you will be repaid for so doing a thousand-fold. CHAPTER II. HALLS AND PASSAGES. The first part of the new house that should be attacked by the decorator’s art is undoubtedly the hall: and as undoubtedly it is here that the ordinary speculative builder surpasses himself; for, as a rule, the moment one opens the front door one falls up the staircase, or else one is confronted by a long, hopeless passage, which strikes a chill into the stoutest heart, especially if the owner of that heart has not had much experience in the art of ‘how to make the best’ of a very bad state of affairs.