The powder stand has an interesting story; may I tell it to you? It once belonged to the lovely Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire, "the best-bred woman in England," in George the Fourth's opinion. It is beautifully carved, part of a toilet set made from bog oak (thus the legend has been handed down in my family) by the tenants on her Irish estate, - Lismore, I suppose, - and presented to her as a duchesses, and delight only in the society of the beau monde, let me say that the yellow glass perfume bottle was found in a tiny North End shop, and that the old whale-oil lamp was sent me by a collecting acquaintance in the State of Maine. It is most useful; for I had it wired for electricity and bought a little ground-glass shade, an accurate reproduction of what it once must have had. In the evening, by its admirable light, I may bind my hair; at night I can read in bed without danger of burning the curtains, a frequent accident in candlelit times.

I remember, in reading "Crime and Punishment," that Dostoevski said every human being must have a "theory of life." Well - so must a room; the theory of mine is the bed, by which I mean that the square tester-rails decided the type of the rest of the furniture; said emphatically, that the chest and bureau must be straight and not swell-front, that the chairs should be of the slat-back variety (at least until I could find the Cottage Hepplewhite which my soul craved), and my day-bed utterly lacking in curves. The valances, too, must be straight-hanging, the side-curtains merely looped back, but ready to fall in vertical folds, the mirrors "tabernacle framed." I have seen many of these old beds robbed of all their dignified beauty by using too thin a fabric (muslin or net), and draping it in a rather bouffant fashion, a treatment highly suitable, of course, for field bedsteads. I chose unbleached cotton - a dead white would have been ugly and cold - and really the effect is very much that of the old-fashioned fustian, which was a mixture of linen and cotton. And most becoming and appropriate to an ancient bed it is; you must recall how full Judge Samuel Sewalls "Letter Book" is of references to "beds of fustian." Altogether I bought twenty-seven yards; at fifteen cents a yard the cost was almost negligible. It seems a lot of cloth, I know, but I had to allow enough for a deep floor-valance, for the back drapery, for ample side-curtains, for a tester-valance and a canopy-cover.

Did you ever see one of these old beds with just a silly frill finishing the top; with no sheltering curtains or protecting back draperies? Yet there is an excellent reason for their existence, and no square-testered bed can be complete without them. Before the sixteenth century discovered tall pillars, these curtains were suspended from a ciel, all for the protection of our ancestors from draughts - draughts which still existed through the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries - and the reason why our more immediate ancestors often left the head-posts uncarved, knowing that the curtains would conceal the absence of adornment. Draughts may have disappeared in our better-built houses, but the decorative reason for draperies has not vanished with them; and so, if you cannot face the thought of curtains, why, give up all ambitious ideas of a canopy bed, so naked, so purposeless without them, and content yourself with an undemanding "low poster." My tester-valance and side-curtains are bordered with tassel fringe - dangling tassels to match the carvings on the foot-posts. Oh, those adorable posts! No photograph in the world can do justice to their tranquil beauty, to the reeding which tapers so harmoniously, springing from its cup of leaves, to the carven draperies and tassels, bold yet delicate - ah, that craftsman knew how to handle his tools! - to the graceful spade-feet.

But I must moderate my "gladness," for, do you know, my greatest earthly dread is to be called the "Pollyanna of Old Furniture"! Yet I am tempted to be quite as exuberant over my counterpane, because it was fashioned by my great-great-great-aunt Alicia, the eighteenth-century ancestress for whom the Littlest Daughter was named; long, long ago she made it, when she was a young girl in Ireland. My mind reels at the number of persevering pieces in it, well over twenty-five hundred, and "I never at all saw stitches so small." The pattern is very similar to what I have heard called "Job's Patience," a fitting name, I assure you; for seventeen small hexagons make up a nine-inch six-sided figure, and these are banded together by a sash-work of white. In the centre is a lovable piece of copperplate chintz, a quaint bouquet of tulips and roses and sweet, forgotten blue flowers; and the many, many pieces are bits of ancient prints and percales, dimo-thys, callimancoes and sprigged muslins - the tangible testimony of ancient dresses long ago worn out. The dominant colors are yellow and blue, which is why it goes so admirably in my room; but, like all really old and satisfactory counterpanes of this type, it has other colors: greens, pinks, browns, and even reds, all blended into a subtle harmony.

Sometimes I wonder if my great-great-great-aunt knew, as she sat taking her dainty stitches, that I, her admiring descendant, 'way across the ocean and more than a century later, was to have a blue-and-yellow room in which her patchwork counterpane would be the chiefest adornment. For some reason the work was never quite completed, never cut at the corners or quilted; and, at first, I intended to have both things done for me by some local Ladies Aid Society; but when it came actually to putting scissors into that beloved cloth - I could n't do it. And so, instead, I have arranged it as you see; and it is not quilted but lined with the finest blue-sprigged muslin I could buy. My "pillowbiers" are old, too, made from half a homespun sheet presented to me by B------; an excellent way to use old linen, let me tell you; for half a sheet just makes a pair of proper pillowcases, which, edged with handmade linen lace of some antiquated pattern, will give entirely the suggestion of age your canopy bed needs.