To my question, “What is of most importance in the dining room?” a man made answer, “the kitchen,” and a woman, “the outlook.” No doubt the provision of wholesome and abundant food for her family is the housewife’s first duty, but while fully endorsing the masculine paradox, we must not ignore the woman’s plea for a cheerful outlook. If possible, the dining room should have as good a view as the house affords. Let it look out on the orchard, the sea shore, or the distant hills, rather than the stable or the clothes line. The view of a terraced, box-bordered garden, of a tulip bed and apple blooms, as seen from an old-fashioned country house dining room is one of the sweet memories which childhood has stored up for the enrichment of my coming years. Three times a day the household gathers here to take the goods the gods provide them, and then, if ever, they should enjoy a little leisure, and be in the mood to appreciate the best of the out-of-door world that surrounds them. A good view is better than pictures or stained glass for a dining room; but when a good view is out of reach and an unsightly one is unavoidable, then stained glass comes to our aid. If that darkens the room too much, ground or cathedral glass panes can transmit the light, surrounded by a border of color. That would be over-leaping the obstacle; but it can be quietly set aside by means of a pretty sash or half-sash curtain of Madras muslin or any pretty, thin, colored curtain material. A curtain is a simpler, franker, and consequently better solution of this difficulty than any of the pasted-on, semi-translucent, paper cheats that simulate stained glass “In faint disguises that could ne’er disguise.” Let honest poverty hold up his head and hang up a width or two of ten penny Turkey-red calico by the aid of button rings and a brass wire, so that it can be drawn across the lower sash, and if the color be in keeping with the room, it will look better than anything more pretentious and less true. Good stained glass, such as Mr. Tiffany or Mr. La Farge devise, is very beautiful, but like Adolphus’s tea-pot, it has to be lived up to throughout the room, and so is more expensive than in its first cost. The fine view, however, involves no extra outlay, and beside adding good cheer to that which the housewife spreads upon her board, it is no inconsiderable factor in the table-talk of the year, helping not a little in the entertainment of guests. The dining room should also be conveniently near the kitchen, either in point of fact, or made practically near in the case of a basement kitchen by a “lift” or dumb waiter. The kitchen should not open directly into the room, or all the kitchen odors will abide there. An intermediate pantry or entry way shuts off many of the smells of cooking, and a small slide through which dishes can be passed serves to the same end, as it obviates the necessity of keeping the door ajar while food is carried back and forth.