Linoleum should never be scrubbed with soap and water, for this removes the pattern; but should be rubbed with a wet house-flannel to remove the dirt, and then polished with sour milk and water; plain brown linoleum should be kept in order with linseed oil (boiled) and turpentine mixed. This is specially required at first; for, like all materials which have no pattern on, it shows every footmark, and at first appears as if it were going to wear villainously; but the oil and turpentine soon restore it, and the rugs prevent the usual miserable effect of a plain material, which--I cannot think why--always wears badly if left to itself, and invariably looks untidy and shabby almost before it is down; therefore we may consider it an axiom that, if we are not provided with a good tiled floor, we cannot do better than have either the Staines linoleum to simulate marble, or the plain linoleum and rugs--this for preference. The linoleum should be washed daily with a damp duster, and the rugs shaken, and once a week all should be cleaned with the linseed oil and turpentine; this will double the wear, and insure all marks being quite removed. Another thing which I have most certainly learned is, that, delightful as felt looks and feels, and that beautiful as are the colours in which it is made, it is absolutely worthless for real wear. I had it laid down in the Watford house, when we went there, all over the halls and passages, and on the stairs too, and was quite delighted with the soft, warm feel thereof, and the appearance was equally pleasing; but we had not been there six months before that wretched stuff became the curse of the household; every single drop of water, every thread, or morsel of dust, every footmark showed; and from morning until night something had to be done in the shape of brushing and dusting, and, even then, we were never clean and never tidy. And then, in addition to its other sins, if the abominable material did not begin to go into holes; all along the edges of the stairs tiny white spots showed where the under felt was working through, and before a year was out all the wretched stuff had to be removed, and replaced in the hall with dark brown linoleum and rugs; and on the stairs by Pither’s beautiful dark-blue blossom-patterned Brussels carpet, which after a year’s hard wear looks really better than it did the first day it was put down; and I can never understand how anyone can ever recommend felt, as I am convinced it is absolutely worthless as a floor-covering, and that nothing can make it at all satisfactory; and as I still see it in shops, and notice it pressed on the attention of those about to furnish, I consider it my duty to warn my readers against it, for if they succumb to its fascinating appearance, they will inevitably suffer from its possession in the same way that I did.