European & American antiques, hunted by Tim & Sue Roush.

A mahogany ship's wheel turned into a light — brass sockets standing up between the spokes, brass stars set around the rim, and a pair of cast dolphins curling around the stem. It hangs low over a table and does all the talking in the room.

A black frame with gilt scrollwork piled into every corner, and the glass beveled with an etched border running around the inside. Tall enough to lean against the wall and brighten up a dark corner.

Three cellar-monk prints, each in its own quartersawn oak frame, with a little carved shelf and applied brass on the middle one. They hang as a set and want a long wall.

Solid oak with draw leaves at each end and legs turned thick as fence posts. It came with six carved chairs and enough seats for the whole holiday.

Someone painted flowers straight onto the frame and edged it with a border of tiny inlaid diamonds. Big enough to check your whole outfit and pretty enough to keep for the frame alone.

A shaped crest with a spray of flowers hand-painted across the golden satinwood, gilt leaves tucked in the corners. The kind of mirror that dresses up a plain wall in a hurry.

Reeded walnut with a little dentil cornice up top and rosettes at the corners — quiet and correct. It leans anywhere and behaves itself.

Figured walnut with those rounded waterfall edges the 1930s loved. That's the hand-painted “Endeavour” campaign chest keeping it company — a story for another day.

Open shelves over three little drawers, up on cabriole legs so it never feels heavy. Made to hold books and show them off at the same time.

A matched pair, gilt brass with black tole shades that tilt down to keep the glare off. Two of them, which is the hard part — pairs almost never stay together this long.

A long window bench on a scrolled cast-iron frame, dressed in red damask. Heavy, elegant, and built to sit under a window and get used.

An 18th-century knife box with the key still in the lock. Beauty is in the details on this one — the figure in the mahogany runs like water.

Bowed front, flowers laid in wood, a slab of veined marble across the top. It anchors a room and makes everything near it look better.

Figured walnut with fine inlaid banding on every drawer. We bought it for the handles — pierced brass, cut by hand, no two quite alike.

A big, honest chest with a mirrored figure to the wood and its original pressed-glass pulls. It held one family's table linens for the better part of a century.

Carved apron, acanthus knees, ball-and-claw feet that grip the floor. Built back when a table was meant to outlive the family that bought it.

Drop the front and the whole interior opens up — pigeonholes, little drawers, a secret or two. Someone wrote a lot of letters at this desk.

Slender legs, brass casters, a tooled leather top gone the perfect shade of oxblood. It rolled out of an estate library and straight onto our floor.

One long drawer, turned legs, a rouge-marble top with real cold weight to it. Set a lamp and a stack of books on it and you're done.

Black-lacquered and ruled with fine gilt lines. Long enough to run under a window and hold every book you've been meaning to shelve.

Nearly floor to ceiling in a dark mahogany frame. It leaned in the hall of an old Hyde Park house for decades — you can tell by how kind the glass is.

A collapsible tailor's form, stamped 1966. She stays by the door in whatever beads came in that week, greeting everyone who walks the aisle.

A big central medallion on a deep red field, wool with real luster underfoot. Worn soft in all the right places — this one was walked on and loved.

A rouge-marble column on a stepped brass base with a Corinthian capital up top. Warm light and good bones.

Carved to read like a great fluted plume, finished in deep mahogany with a gilt tip. One of a pair we found flanking an old mantel.

A little mystery — beveled panels, wheel-cut ferns, a silvered gallery crowned with an urn. We think it's a Victorian dresser casket. Come argue with us about it.