ABSTRACT
There are imposing mansions, replete with magnificence and luxury, which if realised would provide the outward trappings of many modest domiciles, but which offer shelter and nothing more to their possessors. Home-making, like the other arts, is with some an inborn gift, – the secret of making others happy, of conferring blessings, of scattering the sunny largesse of love everywhere, is as natural to some as to breathe. Every home is bound to bear the impress of the individuality which guides it. If it be a weak and colourless individuality, then so much the worse for the home, which must be its reflex. The contemplation is bound to astonish the reader, and if it does not awaken in a higher sense of responsibility regarding those who are under the direct sway of influence, then there is something amiss with ideal of life and its purpose.
