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picked out in pink and white, which lays rather unkind stress on the general wedding-cakeism of various embellishments. 

Crossing the adjoining room, which is comparatively unexciting, you are admitted to the staircase hall through a noble little portico of real veined  marble. The distinct shock that you experience on tapping one of the columns to find that it actually is what it appears to be - genuine undeniable marble - throws a lurid light upon the sublime depths to which 1800 so engagingly descended.  The staircase is itself another surprise.  Instead of a fantastic coiling thing precariously supported on nothing, with (probably) brazen serpents writhing intricately by ways of balusters, you have a solid workaday wooden stair - positively stodgy in its plain common-sense.   A most humdrum, conscientious staircase.  So ordinary and unassuming it is indeed that it is probably that it was only put in pending the production of something more festive and amusing and more in keeping with the gala atmosphere of the rest of this frolicsome house.  Unfortunately, however, the "star" staircase for some reason or other never appears, and its plain though painstaking understudy still carries ploddingly on. 

But before ascending by it the traveller should get a glimpse of the long saloon with its bowed far end - a room of flat pilasters and long mirros with an odd ceiling coffered in large point-ended lozenges.  The general tone of the room is ash-grey, the tympanum has reliefs over the doors and such like being picked out in white; and very charming they are, these bas-reliefs and features which are scattered through the house with a liberal though usually discerning hand. There are spandrils and panels and friezes and pilaster and plaques and so forth wherever a reasonable pretext for existing seems to offer, and a generous overplus of the same that simply scorn excuses.  A whole mythology of goddesses, leopards, griffins, sphinxes, amorini, lion-heads, eagles, and whatnot just compla-cently smiles down on you a propos of nothing at all.  But they do it very engagingly, and their frank and fearless attitude is quite disarming.  They seem to say: "yes we know we needn't be here, but we like to do our bit - we volunteered without being asked.  Not at all; we find being lovely very enjoyable, and we are glad you admire us."

Upstairs things are exactly as they should be, particularly the great attic - the nursery - where beautiful little minature beds of glossy scrolling mahogany stand in teh bays between the meagre wooden pillars that bear the vaulted ceiling.  The bulk of the furniture clearly survives from the first furnishing of the house by the gallant General's lady, and very charming much of it is.  A good array of prints and picturs portrays for us the several battles that have given Cassel its place and fame in history, whilst the General's refined and pleasant face looking frankly and genially down from a twilit corner makes one wonder whether the tales of his course brutality can be true.  Either the historian or the artist must have lied, one feels; probably the historian. 

But the concierge has become devitalized; the galvanic effect has worn off; he yawns audibly and jingles his keys of office, bored with our foolish enthusiasm. So let us depart, and let him shutter up the house once moreand leave it basking with closed eyes in the evening sun. And as we go we may picture Mr. Ruskin bing conducted round this most heretical house by a really appreciative showman - a latter-day post-decadent architect for preference.  One fancies him eventually being carried out to the open air with foam at his lips, there, with loosened collar and watered brow, to be slowly restored to conciousness and denunciation. Every mortal one of his "seven lamps" are here exultingly snuffed out with the utmost cheerfulness and good humour- architectural practical joking that is hard to discountenance when practised with such with and ingenuity. But then, he would very properly observe: "One does not romp with a Muse." Perhaps one shouldnt - but it is such fun. 
C.W.E

CORRESPONDENCE
THE LIBERATION OF THE CZECHO-SLOVAKS, 
(To the Editor of the Spectator)

Sir - an interesting feature of the Allied Note is the special place granted by the Entent Governments to the Czechs and Slovaks of Austria-Hungary, which is a sign that the Allies realize their importance in the future reconstruction of Europe.  
The Czecho-Slovaks are the Western vangard of the Slav race in Europe, inhabiting Bohemia, Moravia, Silesia, and Slovakia (northern part of Hungary), an area four times as large as Belgium, which would occupy eighth place among the European States (after the Kingdom of Poland) in the reconstructed Europe.  The economic independence of these countries would be assured owing to their natural resources supplying almost everything except salt.  They are called "the pearl of Austria," being the richest countries in the Monarchy, and are paying the greater part of the Austrian expenses. Their population is about thirteen.