So much of preliminary statement must be pardoned me, because in the refined paganism of these days there seems to be a mania for magnifying the house we live in, and the highest religion of many a family is simply to make their home beautiful and attractive. It is better than no religion at all—but a higher religion teaches us to make the homes of the poor comfortable before—we make our own beautiful, shall I say? Not at all; but before we spend freely to gain this end. For the external beauty of home does not depend on the amount of money spent in its adornment. Money buys a great deal of clutter that had far better be left in the shops; money buys a vast amount of superfluous stuck-on ornaments, that were better left off, but money does not and can not buy good taste—an eye for color, thoughtful care for the general comfort, a quick wit, and common sense. Yet these are the safest and surest helps to the woman who aims to make her home attractive to the eye and restful to the body. Let us enter the door of this woman’s house and see what she allows and what she disallows. First, we notice that her entry and stairways are planned upon as liberal a scale as possible. That is but common sense, for furniture and trunks must go in and out, up and down, to say nothing of household and visitors, and the broader the entry way, the more hospitable and inviting it can be made with chairs, table and sofa. Modern builders have at last learned this, and they are giving us the old-fashioned hall again, with a corner or side fireplace, and, if possible, an outlook on the back garden. This hall is not kept too dark in winter, nor too light in summer. In cold weather we need cheerfulness, warmth, and light on entering the house. In summer we should step from the glare of a vertical sun and heat of the nineties, into a cool, refreshing shade, kept, of a purpose, darker than sitting-room, dining-room and kitchen, to prevent flies from swarming into the hall and up the stairway and becoming the pest of the morning sleeper. The back stairs also are closed, either above or below, so that premonitory hints of meals to come may not ascend to the bedrooms and go down the front stairs to guests in the parlor, thus proclaiming on the housetop what you whisper to your cook in the kitchen.