In a small house a library would be impossible, and therefore I give no directions for a cheaper style of decoration, which, however, could be managed in judiciously chosen shades of green and white, and I will only now speak about the books and the manner of treating such a room. No child or very young person, and no servant, no matter whom, should ever be allowed to read the library books, which should never under any pretext whatever be removed from the library, and should consist of histories, travels, poetry, and all standard works that have survived the fiery trial of a twenty years’ existence; the lighter works of to-day, which one reads when one is tired or wants simply to be amused, should be found in the billiard and morning rooms, and in every spare room in the house (Mudie’s books being also in these rooms), and on no account whatever should a really good book which forms part of a set, or is valuable, be lent; listen to no entreaties, place the book _in the room_ at the disposal of anyone who cares to read it, but lend it and you may and will run the risk of losing your book, or of having to torment for it, until your friend hates you, although in strict justice he ought to hate himself for the trouble he has given you. In every library and, indeed, in every house, there should be a list of the books in each room, and whenever a book is added the name thereof should be written down. I speak feelingly, if a little bitterly, on the subject, for no one has lent more books than I have, and no one has been more ruthlessly robbed; for people who would be absolutely incapable of depriving one of a pin, lose and forget to return my books, and at last I have come to the conclusion that I will never lend another; books are cheap enough, goodness knows, and libraries swarm; let people borrow there, and close your heart to the would-be borrower if you want to keep your books, and not scatter them generously about the world at large.