76 
House & Garden 
HANDKERCHIEFS, Etc. | 
Suitable for Useful Christmas Gifts fed 
HANDKERCHIEFS 
No. SI—Men's Hemstitched Fine Sheer Lawn Tape Bordered Handkerchiefs, 
with Block Letters .$11.50 per dozen 
No. S2—Men’s Pure Linen Hemstitched Tape Bordered Handkerchiefs, with 
monogram .$27.50 per dozen 
No. S3—Men’s Sheer Pure Linen Hemstitched Handkerchiefs, Tape Borders, 
$9.00 per dozen 
No. S4—Men’s Fine French Damasse Handkerchiefs, Plain Band Border, 
Hand Hemmed, with monogram, $36.00 per dozen; or with Plain 
Block Letters .$28.00 per dozen 
No. S5—Men’s Pure Sheer Linen, Tape Bordered Hemstitched Handker¬ 
chiefs .$21.00 per dozen 
No. S6—Ladies' Hemstitched Tape Bordered Shamrock Lawn Handkerchiefs, 
very Sheer, with monogram......$15.00 per dozen 
No. S7—Ladies’ Pure Sheer Linen Tape Bordered Handkerchiefs, Flat Hand 
Hem, with monogram, $15.60 per dozen : Men’s size, $33.00 per dozen 
No. S8—Ladies' Hemstitched Pure Linen Handkerchiefs, with monogram, 
$9.50 per dozen; or with Plain Block Letters, $8.00 per dozen ; 
Men’s size with monogram, $19.80 per dozen; Men’s size with 
Plain Block Letters. $19.00 per dozen 
No. S9—Ladies’ Pure Sheer Linen Tape Bordered Handkerchiefs, Flat Hand 
Hem, with monogram, $20.00 per dozen; Men’s size, $39.60 per dozen 
To prevent disappointment, kindly order at once if delivery is 
required for Xmas. 
No. 57 — Filet Finger 
Bowl Doylies, six in. 
$7.00 a doz. 
No. 21—Pure Linen Hand Hemstitched and Filet Booklet "Gift Sug- 
Lace Edge. Three Piece Breakfast Set. gestions” No. 20. 
Price $12.00 per set. Sent on request 
¥alpole Bros. 
I N C. 
'Jifik 9Wq. cov. 35 $ St.XwDorfc 
Also 587 Boylston St., Boston, Mass. LONDON & DUBLIN 
Factory: Waringstown, Co. Down, Ireland 
Adventures In Quaintness 
(Continued from page 74) 
gleaming pewter, peacock pottery, tall 
candlesticks, stuffs handspun, cases of 
chains, rings, bracelets and pins, the 
product of craft jewelers; copper and 
brass, Spodeware, luster, hand-decorated 
furniture, and color, luscious color, 
everywhere! For years I walked 
through this inspiring spot, where one 
always lingered and bought something, 
to the Italian court beyond, and after 
walking down a path that turned 
through an arch I reached the green 
door beyond which a spiral stairway 
led at last to my studio. This garden 
was only a tiny city backyard under 
its mosaics and stucco, but during any 
long summer it was like stepping into 
a bit of your dream of Italy, with its 
plots of green grass, its pebbled walks, 
its urns of flowers, its pools of golden 
fish, white pigeons winging about or 
cooing in their quaint white house high 
on a wall, mosaic archways and wall 
fountains; its tiny pergola in the 
back ... Just a city backyard, the 
tiniest place you can think of, but an 
artist got hold of it, and after you had 
left the street with its heat waves and 
clanging cars, if you had a moment you 
sank into a reclining chair and the soft 
peace of this garden, and wondered why 
people always have to go away to be 
happy and cool in the summer. 
However, some days the lure of re¬ 
mote places will get into your blood 
willy-nilly, and even white pigeons fail 
to intrigue save as to their wings; and 
you dream of quaint houses perched 
perhaps on the bank of some river, with 
a nearby glade happy with violets, a 
hammock, and the most thrilling book 
the gods may send. Primitively lugging 
vour jugful of water up the winding 
stair from the court fails to satisfy the 
call of the wild, your fireplace is too 
easy a thing to light, with neat rows of 
logs in the wood-box right at your 
elbow; your walls, albeit the misty gray 
of illusion, press close on your spirit, 
and even the orange of your silk cur¬ 
tains fails to arouse: you long for the 
open road. . . . 
“ The Ark ” 
And one day you find yourself trudg¬ 
ing an unknown path by a river, with 
a silver canal at your right flowing by in 
quiet mystery, blue hills before you, 
field-patched hills at your back, and in 
the distance the tinkle of mule bells, the 
siren-like call of the canal boatman’s 
horn of sea-shell. The moment ap¬ 
proaches when you are to come upon 
the quaint house on the road: you have 
crossed the canal bridge and rounded 
the curve. There it is, a long white 
empty hulk of a thing gazing out at 
you from between three naive lombar- 
dies, a house as wild and free as a city 
body could wish for, and you know the 
minute you see it that it is yours if 
money will rent it. You nod to it 
gaily as you pause at its gate. 
That was the happiest of summers 
spent on the canal and the river, and 
the house was promptly dubbed “The 
Ark”, for not only was its shape almost 
exactly that of the one owned by Noah, 
but as his also, it seemed equally at 
home on water and land. For while 
there was garden to north and to south 
of it, and the road on the east, the re¬ 
maining entire long side of it was built 
on the wall that formed the wall of the 
canal, with nary a blade of grass be¬ 
tween it and the deep moving water. 
Sometimes at twilight we would hear 
the mule bells, and feel the rub of the 
boat on the side of the house as it was 
steered round the curve. In the day¬ 
time the laden boats, floating deep in 
the water, would sidle softly by, the 
sunlight catching the line of drying 
clothes on the deck and the big red and 
yellow umbrella over the blue-garbed 
woman at the tiller. Sometimes a small 
barefoot boy would be steering the boat, 
and a man or a woman would be busy 
in preparing the simple meal over the 
coals in the stove; at night these coals 
glowed red in the dark, and the lantern 
sent beams across the towpath to the 
trees on the river. From every window 
in the house except those in the front 
there were views of wide waters, for 
the canal and the river were nearly one 
save for the narrow path trod by the 
mules and their driver. 
Blue waters, blue hills, lordly trees, 
red earth that was pink in the sun, 
green fields that turned to burnt orange 
as the season advanced, white fields and 
yellow fields, the purple of wild iris that 
fringed the canal; and as a final glory, 
the harvest moon that sailed majesti¬ 
cally from behind the hill over the 
river, making a path of moonlight and 
mystery across the breast of the river 
and across the canal to our very feet 
as we sat in the garden. 
Cool Ouaintness 
Every moment that we did not 
spend in the open we spent in beautify¬ 
ing the inside of "The Ark”. I am 
sure the wives of Shem and Ham did 
the same. From frightful ogee paper in 
sad brown and tan our living room 
walls became satisfyingly ivory, our 
woodwork we painted gray, our floors 
the brown of dark walnut. At sales we 
bought quaint chairs and tables, an old 
corner cupboard, some wooden beds: 
such busy days as we had painting and 
decorating our finds 1 Should we have 
yellow chairs, or should we have green? 
And what kind of curtains? 
One year we had English chintz in a 
small figured design of pink and white 
at our living room windows. Delight¬ 
fully quaint were these curtains, happy 
and cool. The furniture was painted 
soft leaf green, decorated with wide 
bands of gray with bright colored 
posies; we usually found plenty of pink 
flowers for our bowls; and at mealtime 
our table was laid with gray crepe tas- 
seled in green and set with ivory and 
green Japanese china resembling pot¬ 
tery, while a green pot of roses took the 
place of the lamp. The living room 
served for a dining room as well, and 
pleasant and convenient we found it, 
with some built-in cupboards on the 
wall opposite the fireplace, the cool 
color scheme, and the refreshing views 
from the windows. When the pink cur¬ 
tains grew shabby, we replaced them 
with black grounded ones combining 
blue birds and green leaves with the 
shaggy pink peonies; and still later with 
rose, green, black and cream plaid linen. 
Visitors always remarked on the cool 
quaintness of the room. 
At the top of two gray steps in the 
living room there was a gray door with 
an old-fashioned latch that led to the 
low and wide staircase ascending to the 
sleeping floor. The bedrooms were 
large and airy and furnished in the 
simplest sort of way, with attractive 
and colorful cretonnes at the windows. 
The guest room was entirely in white 
with a black floor and black latches, 
the curtains were of rose and blue on a 
white ground. The windows looked 
straight down on the canal and out over 
the width of the river: in fact all the 
windows upstairs gave one the feeling 
of being on shipboard, except for .the 
luscious green of growing things and 
the bright clumps of flowers. 
Such are the things that may only be 
found in quaint places. The beaten 
track is bristling with conveniences, the 
paved way is full of hustling crowds 
that commercialize quaintness until it 
becomes the most blatant sophistication. 
It is oniy in the bypaths of the world 
(Continued on page 78) 
