« ElőzőTovább »
Death—from Thine unerring shot,
He carv'd them-first, upon one :oast,
And then, upon one stone !”
With the exception of a tail-piece of • The life the sportsman-artist took,
pheasants by Chantrey and a medallion of The artist-sportsman could restore ;
him, the illustrations turn upon the woodAs true and warm in every look,
cocks; their monument, the place where they And far more lasting than before !'
fell, and the place where they might have LXXXVII.
lived. « The sculptor kill'd them at one shot.
And, when the deed was done,
PARCHMENT-PAPER.–Paper is one of those ple of cohesion : we are not disposed to think substances of which it is scarcely possible to that any chemical change takes place. exaggerate the value and importance. How
It is asserted that a ring of this kind of paper wonderful is it to reflect that, as the material has actually sustained a greater weight than productions of the soil, and the sustentation of being so, it is clear that a great economy may
one of the same size of thin parchment. This life, depend mainly on the agency of animal take place in the preparation of legal docuand vegetable refuse, so one of our greatest ments, and in the books and other requisites excomforts and conveniences, one of the most posed to rough handling; for the process of powerful agents in the advance of intellectual, membranization is so simple, and the material social, and moral improvement, derives its used in it so cheap, that if done on the grand origin from a no more dignified source than a scale at the paper-mills, the extra cost will bo pulp composed of old rags !
quite a minimum. Perhaps this may occupy & The merits of paper are known to all; but it place in the cheap-literature questions of our still has its defects. It is not strong enough or day. At present, a
cover for an durable enough for important legal documents; octavo volume costs a shilling. One of parchand its fragility renders it incapable of bearing ment-paper may probably be sold for half tho the wear and tear of the school-room or lending money. library in the shape of books, maps, &c. To While on this subject, we shall dwell for a
the former of these deficiencies, recourse moment on certain other modes of effecting is had to the skin of the sheep in the form of changes in paper, which may be useful in many parchment; but for the latter there has been ways, and are, to say the least interesting in a as yet no resource; at least none before the dis- scientific point of view. covery which it is our purpose to introduce to If a bit of good white soap be boiled in soft our readers.
water until an oily fluid is produced, and two We are so accustomed to wonderful things coats of this fluid are laid with a brush Dow-a-days, that we seem almost to expect them upon any sort of paper and when dry, coated in regular succession from month to month; again with a strong solution of alum, the paper still, our admiration is excited when we are told so prepared will be converted into leather, withthat a very cheap and simple process will give out losing the appearance of paper. By this to paper the tenacity and toughness hitherto process, we have rendered even blotting-paper sought in parchment alone. The assertion rests waterproof. upon authority to which we feel bound to defer
The same may be done by using an albumin. as fully competent in such matters.
ous substance, as the white of eggs, which the The only thing necessary for this purpose is, alum will also convert into leather. Other to provide a bath, in the form of some wide ideas of the same kind are actively working in ; shallow dish, composed of dilute sulphuric acid, those busy heads which have done so much to : in the proportion.of two parts of acid to one of advance the material comforts of our species : soft water. The paper is drawn rapidly through within the last quarter of a century; and it is
this liquid, and immediately washed in fresh quite possiblo that in this, as in many other ? Water, to remove the superfluous acid.
things, we may be still only on the verge of imThis, when dry, is called “parchment-pa- provements to which no limit can be forseen at per; " and if science will accept a term from present.-Chambers' Journal. us, the process might be called “membranization,” It appears that, under the influence of
COAL USED BY THE ROMANS-Did the Rothe acid, the fibres of the paper suffer some sort mans discover and make use of coal prior to of contraction, so that they lay hold of one their invasion of Britain ?-Notes and Queries. another, and cling together on some new princi
MY SISTER'S SLEEP.
Anxious, with softly stepping haste,
Our mother weut where Margaret lay,
Fearing the sounds o'erhead-should they counted among its contributors an extraordinary amount of real genius. This beautiful She stoop'd an instant, calm, and turn'd; pocin appeared anonymously :-Transcript. But suddenly turn'd back again ;
And all her features seem'd in pain She fell asleep on Christmas eve.
With woe, and her eyes gazed and yearn'd. · Upon her eyes most patient calms;
The lids were shut; her uplaid arms For my part, I but hid my face, Cover'd her bosom, I believe.
And held my breath, and spake no word:
There was none spoken; but I heard
The silence for a little space.
Our mother bow'd herself and wept.
And both my arms fell, and I said :
“ God knows I knew that she was dead.” Her little work-table was spread
And there, all white, my sister slept. With work to finish. For the glare
Then kneeling, upon Christmas morn, Made by her candle, she had care
A little after twelve o'clock, To work some distance from the bed.
We said, ere the first quarter struck, Without there was a good moon up,
“Christ's blessing on the newly-born." Which left its shadows far within ; The depth of light that it was in
THE DARK HOUR ERE THE DAWNSeem'd hollow like an altar-cup.
ING. Through the small room, with subtle sound
Sue rocks her baby to and fro, Of flame, by vents the fireshine drove
Crying aloud in anguish wild : And redden'd. In its dim alcove
“I cannot bear that deadlier wo, The mirror shed a clearness round.
So, God of mercy, take my child."
Poor soul ! her act belies the prayer
She breathes into the midnight air,
For while she speaks, her arms enfold
The babe with a still tighter clasp; Silence was speaking at my side
As fearing death so stern and cold, With an exceedingly clear voice :
Should hear and rend it from her grasp. I knew the calm as of a choice
She knows not-were that dark hour pasta Made in God for me to abide.
Of hers, 'tis doomed to be the last, I said, “Full knowledge does not grieve :
The one before the dawning. This which upon my spirit dwells
You had not wondered at the prayer, Perhaps would have been sorrow else :
If you had seen that hovel poor, But I am glad 'tis Christmas Eve.”
And known what she had suffered there, Twelve struck. That sound, which all the Since first the grim'wolf'forced the door : years
But the prayer sped; the widow's pride, Hear in each hour, crept off; and then
Of sickness—not of hunger-died, The ruffled silence spread again,
An hour before the dawning. Like water that a pebble stirs.
Half thankful, half remorseful, now Our mother rose from where she sat.
This only treasure, hers no moreHer needles, as she laid them down,
Tears raining on its marble brow, Met lightly and her silken gown
She lays upon her pallet poor, Settled: no other noise than that.
Then whispers, “Would I too might dia,
And so together we should fly "Glory unto the Newly-Born ! ”
To seek a brighter dawning."
The dawning came, and with it brought Though it would still be long till dawn.
Tidings of friends, and wealth restored ;
They fell scarce heeded, as sho sought She stood a moment with her hands
The little corpse, and o'er it poured Kept in each other, praying much;
Her wild lament, her ceaseless moan A moment that the soul may touch,
That such had found hier all aloneBut the heart only understands.
No child to share the dawning. Almost unwittingly, my mind
And now sho murmurs day by day : Repeated her words after her ;
“ O God, that I had learned to wait; Perhaps though my lips did not stir ;
'Tis so much harder than to pray, It was scarce thought, or cause assign'd.
As I have found, alas ! too late, Just then in the room over us,
I might have deemed the worst was past, There was a pushing back of chairs,
And that dark hour must be the last, As some who had sat unawares
The one before the dawning." So late, now heard the hour, and roso.
my babe ? One little fat fist is doubled, as ONLY A WOMAN'S STORY.
though she already heard the fight of life : June 3.-Once again I look upon green, but did ever soldier wear so sweet a smile, or growing, ever-fresh and sweet trees and breathe so calmly? flowers. The wind, too-how softly yet Here come my two merry boys. I know cheerily it blows in at this window—even the it by the banging of doors and the shouting: wind has been a forbidden visitor, and I am it is like a rush of sea-breeze. Now they thankful to feel its hand once more.
hushing” one another. “Dear little like a little child ; everything seems new to sister is asleep.” Such loud hushing! And me, and bright, as though a mist of worldly each rosy face comes for a peep at baby. cares had been wiped away since last I looked July 1.-Robert and I had a long delighton Nature.
ful walk last evening up our glen." I When first thought of, it seems hard that found it rather steep; but then I had his women have so much necessary suffering ; arm to help me, and the breeze on that sweet that it is part of their daily life; not, as with green hill at the end of the glen was so men, an accidental circumstance.
But, in refreshing.
My little pet milk-wort, the reality, how wonderfully wise and beautiful a harebells, and mountain-flax, that grow so dispensation it is ! Pure and youthful feel- luxuriantly there, seemed to give me a wel ing is indispensable to a woman. Yet, with come to our favorite seat under the old her many wearing cares-small, it may be, blown-about thorn. but constant, and most difficult to remain
We had a long talk about our children, noble under, because there is little that is and tried to settle how we were to educate great or glorious in the trials themselves, but them. When I see so many fail in that most only in the bearing them - how shall we difficult of all the tasks that God has set us, keep this woman true to her own higher the making good men and women-I feel, oh, nature ? Could we devise a better discipline so fearful for our dear ones—so pure, and than every fresh child brings to the busy sweet, and guileless now! I have one great mother? Death-awful, mysterious death, comfort: I have noticed that want of unity seems to stand waiting for her for many days between the parents is the greatest cause of before the child is born. She sees all things want of success in training up children. through his shadow. “It may be there is Children are very close observers (I have no to-morrow for me,” is ar. ever-recurring seen that in mine), and are more influenced thought. “On whom can I lean for comfort? by example than precept. Besides, when the To whom can I leave all these dear ones?" heads of a household are at variance, there
What woman is a sceptic then ? The can be no consistent plan pursued. darker and nearer comes the shadow of death, How thankful I am that we have not that the brighter shines the Light of lights, till misery to contend with! I could scarcely the darkness becomes glorified, and death is keep back the tears of joy and gratitude, swallowed up in victory. None know the when I thonght of all that, last evening. true rest in God so well as those who have Robert was busy groping among the soft moss spent days and nights in searching after and wild thyme for little shells for the chilwhat is best for the future happiness of the dren. I wonder what were his thoughts ? beloved, and have sought in vain. Plan after and I wonder, too, why I did not ask him ! plan is laid aside, because it has some flaw in and why, when he said I had been silent so it; and then comes the thought, what chance long, he feared I was tired. I let him think is there that anything will happen as I have that, and not great love and joy, made me imagined ? Look back, foolish soul, and see silent and pale. That is the way I always how different was the actual from the im- do when I feel deeply. I wish I could show agined or wished for! So struggles the him my whole heart more easily; but he spirit, and beats itself against the bars of does not mind my not doing so, and it therefate, till, torn and weary, it drags itself to fore does not matter. the feet of the All-wise, and there finds rest July 29.—Annie Malitus is coming to
spend a few weeks with us. I wonder if she My little baby sleeps softly in her cradle is like her mother-sweet, unselfish, gentle by my side. How seems the world to thee, Mary Malitus. I well remember her visits
to our home. How happy she made us all, \" And what have I got here for my little pet ? with her cheery ways. “She is so thought- A biscuit, I declare ! I wonder if little ful of others' feelings," my mother used to Robby could sit on that stool and eat it, and say.
look at this funny pocket-book of mine. August 14.-Annie Malitus and Robert And now for baby !” have gone for a long walk, so I have time to And so she managed to amuse them all, write a little in my diary. She is not at all her tongue going fast to me between her like her mother ; but is a lively, pleasant girl. chatter to them.
neema She is very pretty ; I cannot keep from look- “I have not seen you these many days, my ing at her. It is a pleasure to watch her dear," she said ; " and I feel as though all slight, graceful figure moving about the room, were not right if I have not had a peep at or to see the sun shine on her bright brown you. I don't know what I should do without hair.
you, Gertryde.” Baby has been ailing lately, and kept me It is very sweet to be over-appreciatedmore than ever at home. Do I sacrifice too makes me feel very amiable, and very humble. much to my children? He said so yester- I told her so, and how she seemed to fill the day. O, children, children—there is the place of mother-in-law to me. crack in too many households that lets dis- “Do I indeed, my dear?” she said ; "and cord in! Yet, if husband and wife are one, yet I over-appreciate you, you say; and I'm that can never be. But is it possible for a sure you do the same to me. That is man to fully sympathize with an anxious strange. Well! it only shows my theory is mother's feelings.? Or can a woman, daily right. And now I remember what I came tried by small cares as she is, ever learn of for. I bring an invitation to your visitor (I him not to feel or fret about little troubles ? hear she is so charming) from your father-in0, what constant seeking to enter into the law and his daughters to spend a week with theart's bitterness, on each side--what tender- them." ness for each other's special frailties—it must I thanked her for Annie, and then asked need. God give us such abundant love and what she meant by her theory. compassion toward each other. Often my Why, my dear, I've come to the concluhusband is grieved or anxious about things sion—now don't be shocked-looking round that seem to me of no importance; and I among my friends, and seeing that if you often feel inclined to smile at his anxiety want a favorable idea of a woman, don't go (have done so, I fear); but often the thought to her moiher-in-law, and vice versa.-Well, comes and stops me, that he feels it a trial- my dear, I've come to the conclusion, that the is troubled by it; my not feeling it does it can't be either mother or daughter-innot make him feel it less, but adds vexation law's fault." to vexation, or may make him hide his feel- “ Indeed!” I said. " What is the cause, ings from me next time, and so lay the first then ? " brick in that wall of partition which so many “It is, my dear, the putting mothers and I now pity have built in that same heedless daughters-in-law down one another's throats way. Often and often I think this--but, I -that's it!” she said, laughing merrily at fear, not often enough.
her idea, and giving baby a toss so high, she August 21.—My dear friend Mrs. Elliot looked almost frightened. was here this morning. It is always a pleas- “Let a child see some jam, you know, my ure to see her bright face. I never feel dear, and want it, and ask for it-perhaps afraid of her; never am uncomfortable if the steal it—and he thinks it very good. But room is ever so untidy. or the children cram that same sweet down his throat, and ever so noisy-which fortunate; for our tell him he must eat it, it is his duty to like boys are so fond of her, I cannot keep them it—and how the child hates that same jam away.
all his life! Don't you see the sense of it, “There, my dear,” she said to Herbert, my dear ? " this morning, " is my best gold pencil-case; I was laughing too much to answer-partly and here," feeling in her pocket, “is such a at my boys' looks of astonishment. clean piece of paper. Pray, draw me a pic- “So you see, my dear," she continued, lure?” And so he was quietly set to work without waiting for my reply," my first way
of reforming the world in that matter would planning for this evening. She thought I be, to make every one understand that should go, too; but he will enjoy himself mothers and daughters-in-law need not love quite as well without me. And it was not one another unless they like. Shouldn't I convenient to me to go. raise a storm? Why, all the novels ever August 27.–Annie has gone to spend a written would be thrown at me. But what week at Robert's old home: the dear girls a reformed world I should have ! for you see, want a little change. How cross and unreamy dear, it is much pleasanter and happier sonable I have been lately; but Robert has for all concerned to love one another; and not noticed it. I will turn over a new leaf. feeling this, each party would set about try- I must make every thing very bright and ing to be lovable to one another, just as they comfortable this evening, that he may not would to any one else they wished to please. feel it dull. I think I shall put on my And so, if they suited one another, and new dress; he said it became me. How could love one another--for you can't love foolish I am! I never felt afraid his home some people, except as your neighbor, you was dull . before. There, I will put away know, my dear-why, they would be very those fancies, for fancies they are. What happy and grateful to one another; and if would Robert say, if he knew? I seem to they couldn't, then neither party would feel have hardly seen him lately. There again! it a grievance. While now, you know, or I won't write any more, but fetch baby: all rather I do," she continued, not leaving me bad thoughts fly away when I look into her a moment's time to speak in-"you are too innocent eyes, or feel her soft face pressed young to have seen so much-each party, or to mine, in her pretty, loving way. at least one side or the other, makes herself August 28.—Last night I waited and as disagreeable as she can and says, ' Why waited, but no Robert came. The boys went don't you love me? How wicked you are to bed crying, for I had promised them a and unnatural! It is your duty to love me, game with “papa.” It grew dark, and I sat and
waiting, imagining all kinds of accidents. I was going to try and get in a word of I saw him lying, thrown from his horse, on objection to her odd theory, which I put the ground. " This moment,”I thought," he down here because, like most of her ideas, may be dying for want of help, and I sit it has some truth in it, and I may be a quietly here!”. I went out, and listened, mother-in-law some day; but, just as I but could hear nothing but my heart going began to speak, came a ring at the bell, and thump_thump.. I was just thinking I could in ceme Miss Annie, laughing, and in high bear it no longer, but must start off in search glee, from a ride with Robert, her face glow- of him, when a messenger came to say he ing with the fresh wind, her bright brown had gone to his father's on business, and I hair parted so smoothly on her pretty white was not to wait up. And this morning, forehead, her eyes dancing with delight, when I asked him what urgent business it she was a bit of beaming youthfulness, pleas-was, he said, hurriedly, “Oh, only some ant to look upon; and so more eyes than thing he wanted to see his father and Tom mine seemed to think.
about; and I must not be surprised if he Robert said he could not stay, he had no were late to-night, as he might have to see his more time to spare, and was gone almost father again.” without a word, only running back to tell me I am writing, for I cannot settle to anythat Annie was tired and hungry, and I had thing else. I have worked till the tears better send the children away; and, throw- dimmed ny eyes too much; needlework ing a pair of gloves into Annie's lap, with is bad for a troubled mind—allows it to * Please mend these before this evening, and dwell on sorrows it had better forget; over be sure and be in time," was gone. Well, and over again the same song goes in time when I write it down, there seems nothing to to the needle. I have read, but I read my be vexed about; I must have been in a cross own thoughts instead of the book. Oh, it is humor, for I even sent my little darlings bitter, bitter! but it is a lesson that must away angrily.
come, sooner or later. It is sweet—it is the Annie soon told me what they had been greatest joy this world can give-to know