— OVER THE ALBUM. This one is John that's Cousin Josie; I think she's pretty—do not you? The baby all so plump and rosy Is sister's youngest—little Sue. 0'd bald-head! Why, you wretch, that's father ; Ard here is Uncle Jonathan; His ears are long? You need t bother, Your ears are too | r & man. The girl with lovel 2 Thay s Rena; She isn't nice—that hair jred tty a8 a sweet Ver or apn Ao Row dont Sy foolish, Fred. Who is that dried-up-looking creature? Fred Smith, I think you are & brute! You know 'tis 1 by every feature— You know me by that summer suit. 2 ‘Well, then, if you're repentant, sinner, 1'11 pardon you; now, please, please quit. Mise Jones will notice us at dinner And say, “They've had a kissin’ fit.” ——— Mr. Singleton’s Model. —— When Cissy Denzil came of age (she was an orphan), she determined that she would indulge her own caprices to the fullest extent. She sent for her aunt, an inoffensive old lady of sixty, to chaperone her, and rented a house in Bryanston Square, not for the sake of the commanding situation, but because it was a dull neighborhood, respectably fashionable and calculated to exercise a soporific effect on her lively imagination. The agent declared the house to be thor- oughly well-drained and upholstered, and, as it happened to please her, in less than a week she was as much at home there as if she had lived in town all her life. Cissy Denzil undoubtedly possessed a dangerous originality. Without in- tending it, she was a constant thorn in her aunt’s side. No sconer had Miss Webster recovered from one moral shower-bath than she rebeived another. Now, Miss Webster did not like shower- baths ; they gave her cold and inter- rupted her in the pursuit of the whole duty of woman, which was, in her case, to eat, drink and dress well, to go church regularly, and to awaken cof to a sense pf her many shortcomings. But Cissy merrily refused to be roused. She was not at all overwhelmed by her iniquities. “I do like to see things for myself,” she would say. “What is the use of living if I am to be always wrapped up in cotton wool, taken out for an airing, and then brought back again like those impossi- ble dolls which children buy in the Lowther Arcade? How can I live my life if I do not know what existence really is like? Owing fo my ignorance of the world, I shall make some dread- ful mistake, and then it will be all your fault, aunty. Willis not, Mr. Single- ton Mr. Singleton was an artist who readily commanded a high price for his pictures. He was an old man, and had known Cissy Denzil from her childhood. To him she was wont to appeal when Miss Webster became plaintiff. Cissy amused him ; he abetted her vagaries, provided that be saw they were harm- less. I did not know that you had such a taste for realism,” he replied. * Evi- dently Miss Webster will have a bad time of it, unless we can cure you."' +t Poor aunty I’! said the girl, crossing the room and kneeling caressingly at the old lady's feet. *‘I am sure that I shall some day give you a fit.” “If you want to get a little insight into what human nature really is,” said Singleton, jokingly, ‘‘ come to my study any morning and study the models. Put on a plain dress and bon- net, and get there eagly. Ten o'clock will be soon enough. You can easily reach Holland Park Road from here, If you will come, I'll bave some of the litter cleared away, and you can watch me paint, sit, or do what you like. I often see twenty or thirty models in a day. Patient Griselda, Cardinal Wol- sey, Fair Rosamond, Lucrezia Borgia and other well-known characters come to me by the dozen. If I don’t want them, they try the next studio. Artists are clustered as thickly together up there as lawyers are in Bedford Row. That bareheaded, disguised, very much disguised, 50 ~a man with a history=French . nobleman who sold papers in the Strand was a frequent sitter of mine; he’s dead now, poor fellow.” “ [ am to ‘sit’ on the usual terms ?” asked Cissy. '*What are the usual terms, Mr. Singleton ?"’ + A shilling an hour, and luncheon found,” said Singleton. ** In your case, Cissy, the luncheon shall be unexcep- tionable.”’ # Agreed,” gaily cried Cissy, *‘ Do not groan, aunty.” (Miss Webster always made sepulchral noises when she did not rove of anything ) | ¢ Thyté # thing wrong in going fo & y if it be swe Le Singleton went away, and wieelily forgot all about the aber. Cay re- membered, The next xt. wioftifhg Classy taited ok Holand Park Road, intent upon viewing a new phase of ‘She took Rollo with her—an enormous tawny mas- Mfr, whose head was serenely unconsci- ous of the mischief wrought by his tail among Oissy’s dainty bric-a-brac. Rollo was of opinion that all bric-a-brac should be made of tin, cast iron or other solid metals, and testified his joy at being freed from the dangerous vicinity of eggshell china with many a bark and gambol. Without misadventure this modern Una and her lion reached Singleton’s studio, Cissy’s fair face glowing with health and beauty, and Rollo much ex- cited by many a fruitless chase after ca whieh would slip between rail- ings when he had nearly reached them. Cissy and Rollo entered the studio. There was no one there, Singleton’s studio (he shared it in common with Hugh Darrell, a young fellow-artist, though Cissy knew not the fact) waa a lofty room, some thirty feet square, It was hung round with the usual artistic properties ; bits of old oak occupied the corners, a suit of armor peeped from underneath the glowing hues of a Smyrna carpet, and at the urther end of the room was a dais of empty egg-boxes, evidently intended for the models. There was one small picture on an easel, with the face slightly sketched in representing a forlorn- looking damsel going through a wood. “Make yourself at home, Rollo,” said Cissy ; ‘‘some one is sure to come pre- gently.” Rollo did so—on the unarmored part of the Smyrna carpet. “What the deuse is that dog— I beg your pardon,” said Darrell, entering the studio suddenly. “He is my dog,” demurely said Cissy. ‘‘Is not Mr. Singleton coming to-day ?"’ “No; he has to the country. question, may I are ?V “Certainly ; Iam Mr. Singleton’s mo- del.” “Then allow me to point out to you, in the politest possible manner in the world, that it is not usual for the dogs—when they have dogs—of young persons who act as models to repose upon a valuable carpet like that.” ‘Take him off, then,” said Cissy, been called away If it is not a rude ask who you son,” and making a sign to Rollo not to mave, Darrell approached Rollo, measured his length on the floor. “You see, | am afraid that he will not stir,’ said Cissey. Darrell dusted himself in silence. There was a perplexed look on his face, No ordinary model would behave so. *'1 ought to order you out of the studio,” he said, “‘only the fact is, my model has disappointed me, and I was looking for another when you came in.” “Shall I do 7" asked Cissy, very much amused, and picturing to herself Miss Webster's face when she should hear of this adventure. ‘“* What are your terms ?'’ in her most business like man- ner. “Ninepence an hour.” “I think that is rather mean, Mr. Singleton always pays a shilling an hour and luncheon. He told me 50.” “Oh ! Singleton is rich and famous; I am not.” “1 will agree to it if you will give Rollo some lunch.” “Done,” he said, laughing at her coolness. He had hitherto regarded her with anything but professional eyes. If he could only transfer that lovely face to canvas he felt certain of success. She was admirably adapted for (Enone, if she would but look sorrowful enough. ** And now, having arranged the pre- liminaries, what am I to do?" she asked, “Will you kindly mount the dais?” said Darrell. “What | Yen, ” “Are they not rather uncomfort- able 7" “ (Enone ought to look uncomfort- able. You will be of no use unless you deo.” “I never heard that (Enone sat upon egg-boxes. Wasn't she the wife of Paris ?"’ * Yes; he abandoned her. She comes weeping through the wood. Now imagine that she has been deserted by him ; that he has returned to her, wounded by the poisoned arrow of Philoctetes ; and that he has refused to heal the wound, Realize the situation.” “1 am afraid that | cannot realize all that at once,” said Cissy, settling her- self as comfortably as she could; “I never did think Paris worth crying about.” Darrell got rid of the former face, and sketched in the new one. He was a young artist of great genius, and really It as an exceptionul face which he en- deavored to copy. Attheend of two hours Rollo leisurely got off the Smyrna carpet and yawned. ‘He wants bis lunch,” said Cissy. “Oh, very good,” said Darrell, belp- lessly, “That's in the compact, is it not "” { | “Yes” and Those egg-boxes I’ ba “What does he generally have ?’ * Biscuits,’ sententiously. *But I haven't any." “Then you must buy soie."’ “Cool, for a modal,” thought Darrell, but he hastened to get his hat, As he was going out she stopped him, “My eighteenpence,’’ she said, hold- out a small, white hand, “Are you afraid that I shall not pay you ?’ he angrily asked, “You might not come back,’ she answered. He gave her eighteenpence and went round the corner to the baker's for biscuits. When he returned, she had disappeared, dog and all. No token of her presence remained, but one ex- pensive little glove on the egg-boxes, and a lovely, mournful face peeping out from the canvas. He took up the little glove curiously, and put it into his pocket. “Aunty, dear,” said Cissy, gravely, that evening. ‘‘My imagination is quieted at last. Ihave had an adventure which might have proved a very serious one, only the man was a gentleman. My visit to the artistic world has earned me—eighteenpence.’’ Darrell took the sketch home and painted with feverish ardor. For some reason, unaccountable to himself even, he never mentioned the matter to Sin- gleton. (Enone wns worked at from morning until night. He sent it to the Academy, where it was accepted, and hung in a very good place. The young artist received a dozen offers for it in as many days. He declined to part with the picture ; it was not for sale, he said, but he would gladly execute commis- sions, It chanced one day that he took Sin- gleton to see the (Enone, explaining as he did so the reason for his reticence. “Something tells me,”’ he said, earn- estly, * that I shall meet that girl again. She was as sweet and true as my own sisters. It may seem folly and madness to you, Singleton, but her face haunts me. I shall never forget her.” “I cannot think of any model of that sort, but I kuow this face,” sald Single- ton, as they halted before the picture. “[ knew it when the girl was a little creature of four, and am not likely to forget her now, Where did you see her, Darrell? You have caught the like- ness marvelously. “(Enone seeking Paris,” read out a clear sweet voice behind them. *I wonder how I shall look, Aunty ? That escapade seems to have had a more last- ing result than you imagined."’ Singleton turned round. * How do you do, Cissy ? Permit me, Miss Web- ster, to present my friend, Hugh Dar- rel.” - ® * - . “ Time, a year later. Scene, the lake district. Dramatis persone, young ar tist and wife, in whom it is easy to recognize Cissy and Hugh Darrell. “Oh, Hugh,” she says suddenly, taking a locket from her chain, ** here is some money of yours, “Money I” He opens the locket There are the identical shillings and battered, disreputable-looking sixpence which he had given her, “Yes, '' she laughs; the money you paid Mr. Singleton’s model.’ — London Society. sn ——— Going for the Doctor for Him- self . If Shakespeare were alive and living in the United States, he would find scores of queer folks ready to be charac- terized by his dramatic genius. What an amusing character, for instance, he might make of the absentminded man who took out his watch to see if he had time to go home and get it, or of Jub Cadler, the hero of the following inei- dent: Job lived in the little village of Parr, Genesee county, N. Y. His neigh- bors always said, “Job's a lectle queer,” but even they were not prepared for his most eccentric freak. One night Job was startled out of a restless sleep by a severe pain in his stomach. He had been reading, the day before, an article in the paper about the Asiatic cholera, and the pain frightened him. Jump ing out of bed, he pulled on his clothes and hurried to Dr. B——"s8 house, nearly a quarter of a mile distant. The family were all asleep and it was some time before Job could waken the doctor, who finally thurst his mght-capped bead out of an upper window and sharply asked — “Who's there?” *1 am.” “Who ar you #’ “‘Jub Caulder and I want you to come right down to our house, at onve,”’ “Why, what's the matter? Any one sick?” “Yes.” “Who?” “Why, J am. And you'll come just as soon as you can, won't you, doctor?” “You old fool! Can't you come in and let me see you here?” “No, I can’t; I ought to be in bed this minute, and that’s where you'll find me.” And off the obstinate Job trudged, groaning. Back to his house he ran, and there the docter who had learned to put up with the conceits of his country patients, found him half an hour later-—a very sick man, He had, however, the satistaction of seeing him recover from a severe illness, and that, too, in spite of his “going for the doctor himself,” at the dead of the Faust. Sony dealing in the black art. sclences—astrology, magic, care to avoid am interview, indeed, the gentleman gensis. From clearness, in or near Knittlingen, in teenth him as a proficient in theology. soon, however, abandoned the study perfected himself at the University Cracow, great seat of necromantic lore, rants. whose mendicancy, on the public. lawfully earned a night's hospitality, in teaching, choir singing, preaching and other thaumaturgic operations, » Economies of Science. age is done by using a pour article, direct rays of the sun, This, we are told, of testing varnish or quality. Dr. ment was performed repeatedly, in caused by directing a rapid current ‘eatbonie a~id upon the upper part anesthetic effect lasted from two eight minutes. poison in Mexico is, says Dr, Croft Chemical News, a8 strong solution indine in potassium iodide, with this solution, and finds light brown amorphous precipitate the plaing dide, vids, the zine previously fd « 1 connect his house and office, he can easily do so at an expense of less than fifty cents. If the distance is 200 yards, | buy some five pounds of common iron | stove-pipe wire, make a loop in each end | and put them through holes one-half an inch in diameter in the bottom of two cigar boxes and fasten them with nails. The wire isthen drawn tight and support~ ed by cords if necessary, The wire can be run into the house by boring a hole through the window-glass. Such a home-made telephone will transmit music, even when piano is thirty-feet away and in another room, The use of sea or river sand is injurious in the cleansing of glass or laboratory vessels, as the sharp fragments of quartz scratch the surface of the glass. Lead shot, which is an excellent mechanical cleanser, iscondemned, because it leaves part of its substance on the glass, which has to be removed by dilute nitric acid. Clean wood-ash is recommended by Dr, A. Muller for domestic use, as it acts both mechanically and chemically by its potash, Powdered rock salt is also used. For glass vessels used in the laboratory, he also recommends a piece of india rubber, cut into the form of a tongue or other convenient shape, and fastened to a flexible wire as a handle, A good lubricant for the preservation of belts is said to be obtained by mix- ing rosin oil with ten per cent. mica. In the case of a new belt several coat- ings of this grease are applied with a brush until jt absorbs no more, After this the belt may be used without any fear of part of the lu- bricant emerging from it under pressure or tension, since the pores of the leather hold the grease very firmly and only allow a few small drops to ap- pear on the surface. After a few weeks the operation may be repeated on a smaller scale. Some months may then be allowed to elapse without greasing the belt, to which by that time the lu- bricant has imparted a good deal of tenacity and power of resistance, The belt thus lubrified adheres very well to the pulleys, and is not affected either by the changes in the moisture of the atmosphere or by corrosion. of of Lead dioxide is usually prepared in the laboratory by treating minium (red jead) with nitric acid, or precipitating lead acetate with carbonate of soda, and passing chlorise into the liGuid. According to A. Fehrmann in the Berichte, the best and cheapest method, however, is to precipitate a concentrated solution of lead chloride with a solution of bleacking powder, which is added until a portion of the filtrate is no longer colored brown by some more bleaching powder solution, The dioxide is then collected on a filter and well washed, being protecied from air during the operation. The dioxide thus obtained is perfectly pure, and forms an almost black powder, which is best kept in the moist state. The ab ve-mentioned prep- aration of PbO: from lead acetate, on the other hand, besides being more ex- pensive, generally yields an impure pro- duct, which partly decomposes on keeping. or or yo Bran-New Antiques. i There are thousands of persons abroad in the land looking for avenues of es- cape for their money, and an army of handy workmen with wares to sell will do what they can to make such outlets numerous and easy. It is an old story, that antique furniture, two or three hundred years old, dated from any de sired landmark in history, is turned out every year in great abundance by those who are skilled in the business. Old clocks, old dressers, old bedsteads and old everything, even if made yesterday have a great value in the eyes of many persons satisfied with antiquity in ap- pearance, . Worm-eatem furniture is now one of the rages. This furniture is easily produced with the aid of bird shot which is fired into it. Old houses torn down furnish worm-eaten timbers of which this set of furniture used by Philip of Spain was made. * France pro- duces 0'd Roden and Sevres ware by the carload. Limoges enamels are plenty. The new ones—nearly all are new-—are buried in moist earth for a month and | tien dated back 300 of 400 years accords ing tothe wants of the customer. He can be suited as to age. The famous ware ‘of Henry IL'S time is produced the year round. Treated with flourhydric | neid, it becomes painfully old ina short time. A vase worth $5 has been known to advance to $1,500 with the aid of ten cents worth of acid, In Berlin pottery used by the Romans-~all the Cmsars- ‘can be had by the crate. ‘At home we atl of of to in of | ‘and other kinds of furniture old as the ; the New York — The Old Creek Coldsmith. Tho skill in beating out and inlaying | gold and other metals to which Homer so often alludes is attested by the re- | mains found in the tombs at Mycens, ' of which perhaps the most Homeric are the designs on the scabbards of swords, which at the time when Dr. BSchlie- mann's book appeared were too much incrusted with the rust to be made out, but which have been recently engraved and described by Mr. Koumanouder, The subjects represented on the seab- bards are a lion hunt, a lion attack... a herd of deer winged monsters, fish and plants, The manes of the lion are of red gold, their bodies of paler gold, probably electrum., So with the flowers —the stalk, leaves and branches are of gold, the calyxes of electrum., The same distinction of color is observed between the sea and the fish swimming in #, and also in representing the birds —fin which the color of the blood flowing from their wounds is discrimi- nated from color of their feathers, Further variety is obtained by the use of enamel in portions of the back- ground. In the description of the plow- ing on the shield of Achilles the poet says that the furrow behind the plow- man was black, as plowed land is although being of gold. Probably to produce a change of color, a dark ena- mel, such as that found in the scab- bards, was combined with the gold. Homer therefore, so far from inventing the shield of Archilles out of his imagination, as was formerly contend- ed, derived many details both of sub ject and technical execution from words of art which he had actually seen, and which inspired him with the conception of what a work by the god Hephsstos himself might have been. So, again, in regard to the choice of subjects on these scabbards, and throughout the Mycensan antiquities, they proved that when Hesiod describes the crown of Pandora as ornament- ed with “all manner of creatures such as the sea and land breed,” he borrow- ed these ornaments from the art of his ewn time, a Veuillot's Idea of Heine. Louis Veuillot, the distingished jour- nalist, who died recently in Paris, left among his writings this striking tirade against Heinrich Heine, the German foe to Catholicism: Heine spent his whole life in blaspheming. He wus a great poet and gifted with nearly all bad moral qualities, He never strove to conceal them ; piquing himself on hia frankness in erder to give himself the advantage of being cynical, by which his sort of talent gained in biting force. He blaspbemed in the pride of life, commenced his damnation while alive, and continued to blaspheme up to the very moment when he descended into the regions of eternal blasphemy. If he ever once glanced up to God, ever uttered one sincere sigh, there is nothing in al! that remains of him to show it, Stricken with a species of repentance juto which be was equally forced by physical pain and mental pride-pre- tending to have returned to ideas of religion—he still continued to blas- pheme, Perhaps he thought he was only laughing. He possessed that stu- pidity especially characteristic of Vol taireans—more particularly of those who shine in the literary house-of-ill« fame-—not to be able to help joking. He would have sold his soul—supposing that be ever believed he had one—in order to utter what they call a piece of wit. Nevertheless, people have talked about his “return to religious ideas’'— indeed, he talked about it himself. The simple truth was that he had read the Bible, and bad become seized with ad- miration for Moses—because Moses had invented God better than anyboby else ! He proclaims this fact-—admiring him- self simultaneously—in a chapter of avowels annexed to his impious book on Germany, which was written for the Revue des Deux Mondes when he was young and strong and so denied the ex- istence of God. Such was the retrac- tion he made | He was the German Voltaire. Fol- lowing the example of the French Vol- taire who hated France, the German Voltaire hated Germany. His true fatherland was the Subterranean coun- try--the country of negation and deri- sion--the Empire of Satan, Like the other Voltaire, furthermore, he had much presumption-—he had done 8 great deal of frivolous reading, and made great pretentions to profundity and at the same time countless hideous grimaces—his ignorance was immense, ‘his insolence immense, but lighted with mighty lightning flashes. To those who can listen without danger to the presch- ing of the devil he is, after Prudhon, one of the best demonstrators of God's being. In spite of all he was during resounding poet of Germany, and the last who really sung In that huge manufactory of ped-
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