114 
House & 
Garden 
New Free Book on Home Wiring 
The “R” panel board makes 
possible some refinements 
in electric wiring in the 
home not available with 
the old dangerous fuse 
box. In preparing this 
book we have given typi¬ 
cal wiring plans for a 
modern installation and 
suggestions that will 
help you make your 
home easier to care 
for and more com¬ 
fortable to live in. 
Write Dept. G and 
a copy will be sup¬ 
plied free. 
Send for 
it today! 
‘Quality 
Assured’ 
Safe! 
IVh en the Fuse Blows — 
When the Lights Go Out— 
You may be heating the baby’s milk, or ironing, 
or serving coffee, via your electric percolator, to 
vour guests—when the fuse blows. 
If you have a Triumph “R” Residence Safety 
Type Panel Board in your home you safely and 
quickly take out the blown or dead fuse and screw 
in a new one, exactly as you would replace a 
burned out lamp globe. Fuses are protective safe¬ 
ty catches and should blow out in time of trouble. 
The Triumph “R” simply makes it safe for a 
woman or child to replace them. 
Because it is absolutely safe, the Triumph “R’’ 
is not put in the hardest-to-get-at place in the 
cellar, but is located conveniently 
on either the first or second floors. 
As it is installed flush with the 
wall and finely finished, it can 
be made to match any interior 
decoration harmoniously. The 
Triumph “R” costs very little 
more than the ordinary kind. 
Do not decide definitely on your 
wiring plans until you have the 
“R” Bulletin of Better Home 
Wiring. A copy will be gladly 
sent free-write Department G. 
Architects and Contrac¬ 
tors prefer to specify 
and install Type “R” 
Residence Panel Boards 
because the one type 
fits every requirement 
and is an indication of 
quality for the entire 
electric installation. 
Type “R” Panel Boards 
cost very little more than 
the ordinary. 
Srank <Fldam 
ELECTRIC COMPANY 
ST. LOUIS 
“The Triumph Line of Standardized Safety Type Panel Boards” 
Pages From A Decorator’s Diary 
(Continued from page 88) 
many-colored mass of green. Then the 
courtyard. 
Then the vestibule. After such mag¬ 
nificence, an astounding entrance. A 
square box of a place, with shelves three 
feet wide and breast high on two sides, 
the third leading to the great Hall. 
These shelves held a miscellany—tennis 
rackets, and croquet mallets, and golf 
sticks, and canes and umbrellas, whips 
and crops, coats and caps and rugs in¬ 
numerable. Nothing is ever concealed 
in an English house—everything is ex¬ 
posed, and one does not wonder that 
dozens of servants are always busy. 
From the vestibule—which gives one 
the impression of entering the house 
through a very personal closet—one en¬ 
ters the hall, a huge room as large as a 
New York apartment, where many 
groups of people may find sofas and 
chairs. Here are family portraits and 
quaint hunt portraits of the Eighteenth 
century—groups of the many sportsmen 
of their day on their favorite hunters. 
A grand piano seems a small affair in 
this spacious room, where the rugs may 
be rolled away for a country dance. 
Running parallel with the hall is the 
drawing room as delicate and white as 
the hall is sturdy and oaken. There are 
two great portraits by Angelica Kauf¬ 
man, one of the white satin Lady of her 
day and her beautiful daughters, and the 
other of the red-coated Lord, and his 
beautiful sons. There are six sofas in 
this room, and delicious soft chairs, 
huge consoles crowded with pots of 
exaggerated maidenhair ferns, a beguil¬ 
ing spinet, and a collection of shining 
furniture that makes one long to stroke 
it. Of course there is a fireplace at each 
end, and just opposite the door to the 
hall there are French windows opening 
into the gardens. 
To the right, as you enter the hall, is 
the onetime library, now the chamber of 
the Master. That may not be seen till 
later, when its Elizabethan bed is made 
and it becomes again a book-walled 
room, full of lovely oak and walnut 
furniture—a great arm chair and a sofa, 
three big bookcases, a table with an 
orderly array of dozens and dozens of 
cigarette cases, match boxes, etc., and 
a huge jar of tobacco in the middle, all 
the personal things that never seem to 
be hidden. The Master brought his bed 
down because the doors open into the 
garden, and his dogs can come and go 
in the night. 
On the left of the hall there is a door 
leading into another passage way, from 
which open many mysterious rooms, the 
gun-room and the morning room were 
the ones that were open to me. The 
morning room was a small, painted 
room with corner cupboards full of old 
glass and china and an octagonal Chip¬ 
pendale desk in the middle of the room. 
The gun-room was lengthy and enor¬ 
mous, with two deep bays looking over 
the garden. A high oak paneling had 
an old print of a bird in each topmost 
panel, and on the heavy rail at the top 
of the wall were ranged a collection of 
porcelain generals of the Waterloo 
period. Gun cabinets, and heavy tables 
piled with mannish things. On the 
mantel two glass cases of stuffed squir¬ 
rels boxing. Dozens of tables for games, 
a roulette table, and the only skittle 
table I ever saw in the deep bay. Horses’ 
hoofs set in silver. Air maps of the late 
war. Estate maps. A thousand cher¬ 
ished things, all exposed, all requiring 
daily care. From the gun room I again 
entered the long corridor, hung with 
hundreds of prints of guardsmen, which 
my host has willed to his regiment. 
At last the dining room, a great Adam 
room of white pair. wood and pale 
green walls hung wi r family portraits. 
A carpet as green as urf covers it, and 
great yellow damas’.. curtains frame 
serene landscapes. One end is an alcove, 
as big as an ordinary room, and here is 
the lovely oval Chippendale table at 
which we breakfast. The state dining 
table is in the major part of the room, 
covered with a green baize cloth that 
hangs to the floor, but less than twenty- 
four people would be lonely there, so 
the nine of us used the smaller table 
near the fire. There are three great 
buffets and three smaller ones ranged 
around the room in addition to the old 
port table—a horse-shoe shaped affair, 
on which dozens of decanters and 
siphons are crowded. This rare old 
table was built to fit around the fire¬ 
place in the days when port was the un¬ 
rivaled drink. One of the large side¬ 
boards is covered with a white cloth 
with many silver dishes of hot food on 
the long hot metal plate—eggs and 
sausage and kippers and such. Another 
holds a collection of cold meats, cheeses, 
bread, etc. Two smaller ones hold 
grapes, and figs and peaches from the 
hot houses, in a beautiful old Worcester 
server. Another holds hot drinks. The 
last one and the most beautiful of all is 
left undisturbed with its noble array of 
old silver. 
Under each buffet a favorite dog lies. 
No dog would think of taking the place 
of another dog. Alsatian police dogs, 
beagles, Sealyhams, and fox-hounds are 
here on condition of perfect behaviour, 
and they never forget their manners. 
Breakfast is a lengthy and movable 
feast. Every-one walks around and 
serves everyone else, for no servants are 
in evidence. Somehow you eat an in¬ 
credible amount. The table is so tempt¬ 
ing, with its array of old silver bowls of 
roses and boxes of cigarettes, and jugs 
of barley water. There are no napkins 
—one never sees napkins except at din¬ 
ner. Each of these seemingly casual 
delights is a fixed law which no one 
would dream of changing. 
There have been interruptions, short 
visits to the kennels or the stables, and 
returns for more coffee, more food, but 
once breakfast is over the real business 
of the morning is begun. Our host, by 
the way, has reappeared in white flan¬ 
nels and pale blue shirt, socks, and neck¬ 
tie. He is again a picturesque person, 
and one looks forward to dinner when 
he will wear his olive green velvet hunt 
coat with brass buttons copied from his 
father’s or his Guardsman’s coat equally 
elaborate. First we must visit the ken¬ 
nels, attended by all the favorite dogs, 
who have kept so beautifully quiet dur¬ 
ing our leisurely breakfast. Mad yelp¬ 
ing, as we approach the kennels, and the 
one-handed keeper (he has an iron hook 
on the other) shows us the various lit¬ 
ters of beagles, each with its own ken¬ 
nel and run. Several times the alphabet 
