THE visitors to the recent convention of Canadian Authors at Calgary were much disappointed to find that the condition of the roads, due to heavy rainfall, made the proposed trip to the E. P. Ranch at High River absolutely impossible. But the delightful entertainment offered by many private citizens made the delegates consider that the Prince of Wales himself could have been no more hospitable, even if he had been at his Canadian home to welcome guests!

An interesting afternoon was spent at the pleasant home of that lady whom many Calgary people call simply and affectionately, “Nellie” McClung. There was a dart through the rain (Vancouver apparently has no monopoly over Calgary in the matter of rain this year!) and we were on a broad vine-sheltered porch, where the front door stood invitingly open. I decided to use my eyes particularly well, knowing that a great many young folks of my acquaintance would be deeply thrilled to hear of a peep into the home of the author of Sowing Seeds in Danny, The Second Chance, Purple Springs, and other chronicles of their beloved heroine, “Pearlie Watson.”

The large square entrance hall was well-filled, as people gathered in, and the feminine part of the assembly passed up and down the wide stairs in the corner, for the purpose of laying off coats of wool from their shoulders, and putting coats of pow-('er on their noses, as is the usual custom. In the midst of this human surge Mrs. McClung and her husband stood welcoming all comers heartily. Mrs. McClung has a remarkable faculty of remembering everybody’s name, where each comes from, and, without any “palaver,” giving one the immediate impression that she really is especially pleased that you— (just unimportant you!) managed to come.

To the right of the hall was the door of the library, where a large, swinging couch opposite the fireplace suggested that many of the humorous sayings and sudden revelations of children’s ways of thinking found in her books, may have been put into clear expression by this story-teller while swaying to the pleasant vibration of this indoor hammock, and seeing pictures in the firelight. Books and a vine-shaded window seemed to mal.® up the rest of the furnishings of the study, which opened into one end of the large living-room.

Some houses still have parlors and drawing-rooms, where best things are kept for best occasions, and an air of genteel reserve broods over the. surroundings. But far more have adopted the principle of the living-room, which is intended as the heart of all the household doings. Emphatically, this is the atmosphere of Mrs. Mc-Clnng’s home. Library, dining-room, sun-porch, hall, all converge upon this large central room, which has all the light upon the side opening towards the garden that many wide windows can give; and, opposite, the hearthfire and its broad chimney-piece, without which, any place of social gathering seems like a face without eyes. Over the mantel is placed a single large painting, sent to Mrs. McClung from the government of Finland, denoting their appreciation of her sympathetic study of the struggles of “Helmi,” the Finnish immigrant girl in Manitoba, given in her novel Painted Fires. It pictures a stretch of the coast of Finland upon the Baltic Sea, and is the work of a native artist of considerable distinction.

A roomy chesterfield fronts the fireplace at a little distance, and the various comfortable chairs seemed to be placed in such a way that any casual visitor, dropping into one, would be apt to discover that the intended brief call had unaccountably lengthened to unfashionable duration. There were plenty of books and pictures that one would have liked the opportunity to examine, .as well as flowers on some small tables.

On the tea table there were quantities of pansies of magnificent size and depth of coloring. It was also so bountifully spread with good things that as we shnnk hands with our host and hostess in bidding goodbye, she said, in humorous despair: “Oh, can’t you people eat a few more sandwiches? I believe I’ll have to have another party tonight! ’ ’ Indeed, since nobody wanted to leave, if pressing evening engagements had not been recalled, there was apparent likelihood that the guests for the tea-hour would prolong their visitation until midnight supper!

The “color schemes” and the “period furniture" have not been described, because I cannot remember anything about them. There was nothing jarring in tints or combinations; but the impression received was not of a fine sample of interior decoration, but of a place of light, space, warmth, and homelike hospitality.