64 Home 



after dark the only light comes from the small 

 lamp inside a big swinging wrought-iron bell 

 which hangs in the centre of the room, a piece 

 which I picked up years ago in a junk-shop ; 

 it may have been intended for a hanging lamp, 

 but I am inclined to think that it was originally 

 part of the balcony railing of an old-fashioned 

 house in lower Broadway. At all events, it 

 serves its present purpose admirably. The 

 opalescent glass with which it is now fitted casts 

 a subdued light throughout even so big a room 

 as ours. If it is pleasant in summer, it is bet- 

 ter in winter. Upon one of our cold blowy 

 days in November I know nothing so inspirit- 

 ing as to get home from my oystering or fishing 

 or hunting, to find the big room a blaze of 

 light from a royal fire of logs, the candles or 

 the lamps giving the right points of color 

 throughout, the warmth and the brightness 

 making a strong contrast with the cold wind 

 outside and the coming darkness. 



The effect of such a room is due largely to 

 size, and next, to color. Its size would give it 

 a certain air even if the walls and ceiling were 

 of unpainted pine. But color may be called 



