Gas is subject to fluctuations in quality, sometimes becoming quite dangerous in its effect upon the atmosphere.  Water gas, which is very generally manufactured, is said to carry four or five times as much carbon monoxide per unit of bulk as retort gas.  It has for the hemoglobin of the blood four hundred times the affinity of oxygen, and a proportion of only two tenths of one per cent may produce heart derangement.  While we are wondering that we are alive in the face of such dreadful facts, we may note further that gas is rather variable in its qualities as an illuminant.  We have mentioned the suspicious gas meter, whose vagaries doubtless have caused more virtuous indignation with less impression upon its object than anything ever devised.  An open flame is always a menace; and then there is the burnt match.  Most housekeepers, I am sure, would testify to their belief that matches were not made in heaven.  Is there anything that so persistently defies the effort for tidiness as the charred remains of a match, invariably ignited elsewhere than on the sandpaper conspicuously provided, and more likely to be tossed upon the floor or laid upon the mahogany table than to find its way into the receptacles that yearn for it?

For cooking, however, gas must still be a main dependence, and for this reason, as well as to provide for remote emergencies, the house should be piped for gas.  At least it should be brought into the house, even if the piping is not continued farther than the kitchen.

ELECTRIC LIGHT

In seeking to secure sufficient light we often go to the extreme of providing a glare that is trying to the eyes and would test the beauty of the loveliest complexion that ever charmed in the revealing light of day.  We go further, mayhap, and concentrate the glare upon the center of the room, with a shade of bright green which gives an unearthly but not a heavenly cast to all the unfortunate humans who come under its belying influence.

Objection is sometimes made to electric light that it is too powerful, and that it is difficult to modify and control.  This impression is due to the tendency of which we have spoken—­the working out of the thought that proper lighting is a question of quantity.  For some persons the ideal arrangement would seem to be a searchlight at each corner of the room, with a few arc lights suspended from a mirrored ceiling.

Electric light, to furnish the most agreeable effects, must be softened and properly diffused.  If the light units that so perfectly illumine a room during the day were concentrated they would make a blinding glare, but diffused they are properly tempered to the eye.  The common thought seems to be to put all the lights of the living room in the center, and to make them so powerful that they will penetrate every corner of the room and make it “light as day.”  In consequence the center is overlighted, and instead of a similitude of daylight we have unreality.