ine and
sincere copies of such furniture, and selling them as copies. There is
no deception here, we must respect these men as we respect the workers
of the Eighteenth Century: we give them respect for their masterly
workmanship, their appreciation of the best things, and their fidelity
to the masterpieces they reproduce.

Not so long ago the New York papers published the experience of a
gentleman who bought a very beautiful divan in a European furniture
shop. He paid for it--you may be sure of that!--and he could hardly wait
for its arrival to show it to his less fortunate neighbors. Within a few
months something happened to the lining of the divan, and he discovered
on the inside of the frame the maker's name and address. Imagine his
chagrin when he found that the divan had been made at a furniture
factory in his own country. You can't be sorry for him, you feel that it
served him right.

[Illustration: A BANQUETTE OF THE LOUIS XV. PERIOD COVERED WITH
NEEDLEWORK]

[Illustration: A CHINESE CHIPPENDALE SOFA COVERED WITH CHINTZ]

This is an excellent example of the vain collector who cannot judge
for himself, but will not admit it. He has not developed his sense of
beauty, his instinct for excellence of workmanship. He thinks that
because he has the money to pay for the treasure, the treasure must be
genuine--hasn't _he_ chosen it?

I can quite understand the pleasure that goes with furnishing a really
old house with objects of the period in which the house was built. A New
England farmhouse, for instance, may be an inspiration to the owner, and
you can understand her quest of old fashioned rush bottomed chairs and
painted settles and quaint mirrors and blue homespun coverlets. You can
understand the man who falls heir to a good, square old Colonial house
who wishes to keep his furnishings true to the period, but you cannot
understand the crying need for Eighteenth Century furniture in a modern
shingle house, or the desire for old spinning wheels and battered
kitchen utensils in a Spanish stucco house, or Chippendale furniture in
a forest bungalow.

I wish people generally would study the oak and walnut furniture of old
England, and use more reproductions of these honest, solid pieces of
furniture in their houses. Its beauty is that it is "at home" in simple
American houses, and yet by virtue of its very usefulness and sturdiness
it is not out of place in a room where beautiful objects of other
periods are used.