Home Planning, Decoration, Arrangement and Organization

THERE is all the difference in the world between a house and a home. The former may be very beautifully designed, and the situation such as to encourage a poets muse, and yet remain nothing more than the desirable residence that is part of the verbal stock-in-trade of estate agents. Add that it is exquisitely furnished and everything in the beat possible taste, and you have done nothing more than state artistic attributes. It remains cold and formal, an affair of sticks and stones.

A home is an entirely different affair altogether. It is on a higher plane, as far removed as a mountain from a valley. The house takes unto itself numberless attributes. There is a warmth suggestive of a glowing fire on a wintry day, grateful and appealing. The atmosphere has nothing about it other than of comfort. It has dignity without formality. Formality detracts, because humanity when at ease is never stiff and starchy.

The writer has in mind a house inhabited by two people. They call it a home, but it is nothing of the kind in the real sense of the term. It is a mere courtesy title. The place is a sort of glorified museum. There are clocks in almost every corner, and some of the timepieces are of considerable value. There are cabinets full of costly old china, and tables littered with miniatures and old silver. You sit on a lacquered chair, a rare piece according to the host, and horribly uncomfortable adds the unhappy visitor under his breath. You walk about in fear lest you should be so unfortunate as to stumble and upset any of the precious objects. The owner seldom or never takes a holiday. He is too scared of the possibility of burglars, and too busy looking after things. His possessions possess him, instead of vice versa. It is all very sad, and very wrong.

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