How _few_ people understand what may be done with a simple pair of brass candlesticks! Does not one weary of seeing them eternally upon a mantel? Upon a top bookshelf? Upon the gate-leg table? Upon a set-in window-sill? There we find them invariably, driving us mad with their monotony, when only a slight exertion of the imagination would give them the touch that is different, the charm that is permanent. I have found that it is only necessary to place one such candlestick in the front yard and the other in the back yard to give them a setting that is in keeping. Thus they can be seen from the windows, their sheen rich against the out-of-doors, except at night; and then, if it seems desirable, they may be lighted. It is not necessary to bring them in when it rains. A light water-proof canopy, easily removable, may be placed over them and will be found to give complete protection, and even to add a note of color, if glazed with silver-gilt, the right shade of apricot and just touched with cerise. Now a word of confession: it is not always the easiest thing in the world to go into a house and give it the _right_ decorative note. The owners may have their own ideas and one must move tactfully. Let me give an instance, though the gentleman in question shall be nameless and designated merely as General X. He was a delightful man, elderly, a retired army officer, a manly and gallant widower, notwithstanding the fact that he possessed strong convictions that his own taste was excellent. He had gathered about him from all parts of the world a valuable assembly of antiques, bibelots, paintings, stuffed animals, sculptures, seashells, wood-carvings, miniatures, and _petiteries_, but had so misplaced them in his halls and living-room and even in his master’s rooms that one saw nothing but a heterogeneity of clutter. I began with his master’s rooms. I went through one after another of these, ordering everything—absolutely everything—removed to the garrets and cellars. Then, when all was clear, I had my assistants place one old Tutu Japanese print in each of his master’s rooms—nothing more—and awaited the General’s return, for he was out at the time. He was not at first able to comprehend that the new arrangement was intended to be permanent. “Well,” he remarked, smiling pleasantly, “I see you have made a beginning, Madame Thomas.” “No,” I smiled. “I have made a conclusion. Your master’s rooms are finished. They now have that restfulness, that air _intime_ which your master’s rooms lacked until I retouched them. This is how they are to remain, General.”