I have written so much in my previous book, the 'Art of Beauty,' upon the qualities of colours, and their effect on human faces, that I may well refer my readers to it for hints; for the colours which are fit for dress are fit for furniture, which is a kind of detached dress, influencing appearance in somewhat the same way. Certain combinations occur to every thoughtful student of natural effects, in flowers, insects, minerals, etc., which are eminently suitable for our walls and our garments. A few strike the mind at once, whether orthodox or not: -

1. Cream white and Turkey red.

2. Crimson velvet, pale blue, and salmon-colour - of course I am asked, what is salmon-colour? Look at a piece of salmon.

3. Brown and crimson, making bronze or flame-colour; palest blue.

4. Cream and violet (the colour of a violet, not aniline). The two should be carried into each other, by slender arabesque designs of each colour upon the other; or by the dull murrey-colour formed by their mixture.

5. Blue and green; care is required what blue and what green.

6. Salmon-colour and chocolate, with sage-green.

7. Maroon and pallid sea-green.

8. Blue and pink with brown, sea-weed-like.

9. Turkey red and slate-colour shot.

10. Silver grey, mixed salmon and primrose - a combination I have repeatedly tried with pleasant results.

11. Amber, orange, crimson, sage-green.

12. Pure white and carnation - very violent, requires craft to combine well.

13. Primrose and dark green.

14. Cowslip colours - observe one.

15. Pale yellow and chocolate - see common butter-fly.

16. Dull lilac, rose-colour, and Tussore colour.

1 could go on for ever, for the combinations are endless, and a room coloured after this or that natural object would be many degrees more beautiful and 'original' - much abused word! - than the commonplace mockeries of mud and mildew.

Everybody who knows a little about painting is aware that warm and cold colours should alternate, generally speaking; that all good colour is gradated. People are sure now, as they were not when I first said so in print, that dark walls increase the apparent size of rooms, while light walls contract it; that a white or overbright ceiling seems close to your head, and a well coloured dark one retreats upward, because we all know that as we see things better the nearer they are, so the less we see them the farther off they seem. But the garden and its inhabitants, the changing sky, the creeping sunbeam, or even the half-empty decanter on the luncheon table, will be better teachers as to where light should soften into dark, or dark gradually explain itself in colour or form, than a score of chapters written at the instigation of a dozen firms.