THE PASSING ' I A HERE is something so subtle 
OF THE DEN a ^ out the influence of fashion 
that we oftentimes are swayed by it 
much beyond our better judgment, or even become madly sub¬ 
servient to a single idea which is as persistent and enduring as the 
Rock of Gibraltar. At present the false lights of delusive fashions 
in interior decoration are being rapidly extinguished by calm 
judgment and intelligence. But not all the atrocities are gone. 
Only recently we encountered a real den. Do you recollect the 
den ? It was only a few years ago, or perhaps you still have one. 
That was the one irregular concession to the man of the house. 
It was as though there were a firm belief that there must be some 
irregularity in a house just as there were such sides to each indi¬ 
vidual, and with the house this should be strictly confined to one 
small district. Indeed the man himself soon was wheedled into 
the belief that the room was a sort of East of Suez Bohemia 
where he could smoke and entertain “the boys.” 
The way this atmosphere of minor conviviality was created was 
generally by yards and yards of green, red, and yellow fabric 
draped in involved folds over a curtain pole tipped with a great 
halberd head — from the ancient feudal stronghold of I. Eisenstein 
on the lower reaches of Fourth Avenue. This drapery shaded a 
couch covered either with a prickly, unshaven Bagdad or an 
unnamed material with little pieces of mirrors woven inextricably 
into its texture. From the folds of the lounge depended a lantern 
with more spiked projections than appear on those apoplectic 
fishes that are so often used as a moral decoration — moral because 
they act as a continual warning to be moderate in eating lest you 
be suspended by the nose, wear a very surprised expression and 
belie your apparently well-fed appearance by being full of nothing 
but air and cotton. 
At handy juxtaposition to this comfortable catafalque for 
lying in state, an Indian tabourette was usually placed proudly 
bearing an instrument or machine that looked like a cross be¬ 
tween an octopus and a barber’s bay rum bottle. Inquiry usually 
revealed this to be a nargileh which the friendly aid of the dic¬ 
tionary rendered somewhat dimly comprehensible as something to 
smoke ; though why any one should deliberately fill his pipe with 
water when the liquid tendency of the ordinary pipe is the only 
thing that allows a sale for cigars and cigarettes, is something we 
have never been able completely to understand. 
Besides these inviting attributes an immense collection of vari¬ 
ous bric-a-brac was always present. Civil War muskets leaned 
precariously in corners and continually darted at one's ankles; 
papier mache shields and spears adorned an otherwise peaceful 
mantel; peculiar tin jars, plaster casts of Zouleika, strings of 
Chinese coins, swords and helmets—every corner was occupied 
with some fantastic object. Not to be impartial and to give an 
all-eastern effect most of the States in the Far East were repre¬ 
sented, though one always suspected that it was by proxy with 
deputies from no farther distance than the East Side. 
Such was, perhaps still is, the den. It even stimulated some 
dwellers in apartments to build houses just for the delights of 
this one room. And now it is fast disappearing. Perhaps the 
causes of its decline were natural. Few men could lead an active 
American life in the daytime and attempt to find comfort in a 
place that was uncannily suggestive of the Chamber of Horrors. 
Then too, even the most hardened tobacco devotee found the 
absorptive qualities of so much drapery unpleasant to the olfac¬ 
tories after any amount of smoking. 
Best of all with the den’s decadence has come a sane and ad¬ 
mirable substitute. In the country houses where the living quar¬ 
ters are all on the first floor there is need of a semi-formal and 
an informal living-room, the one for visitors—guests of the 
eldest daughter, perhaps — and the other for the privacy of the 
home circle. With two such rooms it is unnecessary for certain 
members of the family to retire unceremoniously upstairs to the 
bed chambers at the ringing of the front door bell. This present- 
day den is built for comfort, is natural and does not require any 
such false description as “cosy.” It contains those wide easy 
chairs which, though they may not have the distinction of belong¬ 
ing to any period or country, are satisfactory and wear well. A 
broad table, low lights, a fireplace, perhaps a desk, form the rest 
of the furniture. It takes up no more actual room than the den 
but makes the house seem many times more commodious. Since 
the den is dead we hail its successor, for it relies on no fad or 
fashion as an excuse for being, but has its existence simply on 
the one basic fact—utility. 
THE TEST 
OF AUGUST 
T 
phrase directed at the child who, 
seeing the bountiful array of holiday 
goodies on the table, demanded a trooper’s share of everything 
and then failing in ability of consuming them, left the greater 
part on the plate. It was “Your eyes are greater than your 
stomach.” 
The early enthusiasm of the garden-maker possesses a similar 
desire to that of the child. It is not exactly greed; perhaps it is 
merely lack of restraint, for the temptation is great. The cata¬ 
logues with their insidious urgings make it difficult to leave any¬ 
thing unordered. Page after page is read through, leaving the 
reader with the conviction that almost everything is absolutely 
essential for his garden. The seeds cost so little it seems a shame 
not to keep on adding one after another of the enticing items to 
the order blank. 
And planting is not so difficult. A little care and study and the 
arrangement is planned; a little activity and the garden is planted 
and in imagination the enthusiast sees masses of brilliant colors 
blended, and a rich harvest of fruits and vegetables. So it goes; 
some bloom of annuals in the spring, but the greater promise of 
late summer and fall still in anticipation. And then comes the 
heat of August, a test of patience, a test of courage and a test of 
whether you really will have a garden or not. 
As the garden has grown from seedling to plant, the amount of 
attention necessary has increased. The fight against the unnum¬ 
bered pests has begun to wear on one and now at the very time 
when the rewards should be at hand there is more work to do. If 
the garden is left alone now it will become a jungle of tangled, 
straggling weeds and plant skeletons. Previous to, and especially 
during August, there must be constant cultivation to counteract 
the absence of rain and the presence of drought. If one has too 
great an extent planted, it soon becomes so disheartening that the 
whole proposition is given up and finally the garden is cast aside 
much as the bunch of wild flowers picked for the personal gratifi¬ 
cation of having, is cast aside the moment it becomes the slightest 
annoyance to carry. 
The outlook need not be despairing, however. It may require 
ruthless handling, but if you weather August your career is as¬ 
sured. Sacrifice all the plants that you cannot give attention to 
and concentrate all your efforts, in as small a compass as possible, 
on those specimens that you honestly desire most, taking care to 
notice what seems to do best in your'soil. Regular attention this 
month will do much to establish your experience on a sound basis 
and will be a good standard from which to reckon your next 
season’s plans, for you will have learned not to bite off more than 
you can chew with the teeth of the garden rake during August. 
