The tub may be of enameled iron or of porcelain. The former costs very much less and is almost as satisfactory as the latter, though in the cheaper sorts at least the enamel will eventually crack. Of course it can be reŽnameled, but in most things for the home there will be enough of repairing without counting too much upon the ease with which it may be done. That which will go longest without any repairs is usually best. Still, as between the two kinds of tubs, one can scarcely make a mistake either way, and the difference in price will govern the decision of most of us.

To be consistent in our thought of keeping the floor clear, we should have a bathtub that rests upon legs. It should not, if avoidable, be placed under the window, and if it can be several inches from the wall, it is more easily cleaned on the outside, and the space next to the wall need not accumulate - or at least retain - soap, towels, and sponges that elude the grasp of the bather. Tubs come in lengths from four to six feet, and cost accordingly. The comfort of a six-foot bath to persons of any considerable elongation is always manifest, while a four-foot tub is merely better than a footbath. Where hot water is not on tap in unlimited quantities, five feet is a fair compromise. In porcelain enameled ware a tub of this size costs from $27 to $60, without fittings. The better-class goods, included in this range, are warranted not to crack or "craze." Porcelain prices are almost double those mentioned. If we want stripings or pretty flowers or highly ornamented legs for the tub, we will be permitted to pay for them, but they are scarcely requisites in the bathroom economy.

Waste and overflow arrangements for the tub must be well looked after. When the master of the household is likely at any time to turn on the water for a dip and then become absorbed in studying the latest automobile catalogue, one feels safer to know that the superfluous water will find a ready outlet through the pipes, rather than the floors and halls. The same precautions are to be observed with the lavatory, where young America may choose to devote himself to original experiments in hydrostatics instead of performing the simple process of expeditiously removing the grime from his digits.