( 104 ) 
Taste—Domestic Tastes. 
S ET me tell you, by way of one or two instances, what taste is? No 
sooner have you passed the doorstep of your friend's house, than, 
without prying , you can detect whether or not taste presides therein. 
There is an air of neatness , order, arrangement , grace , and refinement, 
that gives a thrill of pleasure, though you can not define it or explain how 
it is. There are flower-pots placed to the light, or pictures hang against 
the walls, which mark a home of taste. A bird sings at the window, books 
lie around in convenient order and place, and the furniture, though not 
costly, is tidy, suitable, and may be even elegant. 
Look into another house, and, perforce, you will see profusion 
enough, without judgment, ingenuity, or order. The expenditure has evi¬ 
dently been larger, and yet you do not feel “at home” there. The atmos¬ 
phere seems to be full of discomfort. Books, hats, shawls, etc., are strewed 
about. Two or three chairs are loaded- w r ith various objects. The rooms 
are. awkwardly arranged, at the best. Taste is wanting there. 
What, then, is taste but those eternal powers, 
Active and strong, and feeling alive 
To each fine impulse? a discerning sense 
Of decent and sublime , with quick disgust 
From things deformed, or disarranged, or gross 
In species ? This, nor gems, nor store of gold, 
Nor purple state, nor culture, can bestow. 
But God alone , when first His sacred hand 
Imprints the secret bias of the soul. 
— Ahenside. 
Now, to subjoin a few words, of encouragement and useful direction, 
let me tell you also: 
The humblest cabin, the most unpretending home, may without any 
considerable outlay, exhibit evidences of good taste. To this, first of all, 
let a little daily industry be exercised in attending to the neatness both of 
what is within and what is outside of the house. 
