The books 1 love you w ill net fina
On narrow shelves arranged,
Beneath the sky they open lie,
And oft the type is changed.
Oft by the streams, where thrilling words
Are set to music wild,
And space abounds with sylvan sounds
That charmed me when a child.
Within the wood, where song is rife,
‘Mid branches intertwined,
Thro' the blue haze I silent gaze
On pages intertwined
One dreary moor, on mountain side,
And by the lone sea shore; |
Or turn the leaves where
sheaves
Are full of wondrous
intumn's
lore.
i
At eve the page lies open still
In the mysterious night,
The it book on which I look,
Gleams in the star's pale light.
*
ances
In cottage homes, in halls of w ealth,
I'he hooks I love abound,
A hand divine has traced each line
L bove, below, around!
IR RRA RY
ON THE RIVER.
+4, Vane is at his old tricks again.
If 1 were that girl’s father or brother I
shouid be inclined to express my opinion
his tactios pretty strongly.”
¢ 1s that Miss Elliot? T haye noticed
him by side more than half the
evemug—but, if I may judge from the
lady's expression, his attentions are not
otherwise than acceptable.”
“splendidly handsome girl, isn't she?
Alice Hurgreaves, the new beauty, is
« patel npon ber in my opinion.”
Handsome enough—for those who
re that style-—great Eastern eyes
Juno-like figure. For my own
Of
uer
no
ads
1
Hi
{emis
‘So apparently did Vane yesterday
ruil He was sitting in the park
auder Mrs, Fairfax’s parasol for over
an bour and a half. How a proud girl
like Blanche Elliot cap stand such an
open rivalry passes my comprehension,”
4 _ Fairfax? The widow of Jaek
x, of the artillery?”
so— Nina Forrester that was,
member her, Graham-—a
air-haired thing who looks
f wind would bl
is awfully well off
ol care of that, poor oid chap!
Le,
oO Vr
Lud 8.
pretty little
if a putl «
She
ie
i
i
as OW
WWay,
¢ «
VER RH
And i
reaily
pretty as herself, over five years
ir Vane,
YOIl 88Y?
“Furting! She 1 the
flirt in
ham
amusement,
river—boat always ready
and cream-—and a pretty
g 3
Engl
a
fod.
8 kind
paradise for that oi
Sloping lawn down
+
i
your own master. Sse, mamma is beckon-
ing to me. Goot-mght. You will find
it cool avd pleasant on the river to-mor-
row,” And with this parting shot she
is gone; leaving Vane looking decided.
ly foolish, and, what is worse, unpleas-
antly conseious that he is looking so.
“By George!” he solilogquized, as he
“How savage she oan look when she
pleases! Yet I don’t know but that 1
admire ‘her all the more—a flare-up
interest iu my movements, Still, the
widow 18 decidedly pratty-—and I have
been down on my luck lately and sadly
need a windfall. Aud I really
she is fond of me, dear little soul!”
And Sir Reginald vane's reflections
not leading him to any satisfactory con-
Waterloo, taking a return ticket to
Twickenham.
Five minutes
* walk from the railroad
villa, with green lawn sloping down to
ing ash a dainty little figure, emerging
from the depth of a chaise lounge,
comes with hand extended to meet
him,
and with the flickering sunbeams light-
ing up her great childish blue eyes and
waves of pale golden hair, Mrs, Fair.
day as any man's eye could rest upon.
So Reggie Vane thinks, with =a
sigh and murmur of satisfaction,
ns,
nuinvited
vherries
his hat and helps himself
from the fragrant pile of
in the basket near ur hand.
“rightfully hot in London
able
in
1%
here Queenie and I have been
do nothing bat lounge about
strawberries. Wha
tho
sre 18
shade and eat
the child, by-the-by.”
A tiny counterpart of
prom {
isa of even greater
and presents
a tiny
ne i
wien attempt
i vellow
LWay.
Tuy.
‘You forgo
YOu
mind (aes
§
h
Owl
after-
this
fresh a
She has been
staying with
0 go home yesterday.
for a breath of
noon,
Weeks,
was 1
ir on a
up in
her brother,
¢
L
i
i
3
“‘And won't
token of pardon?” as the rosebud mouth
iis half reinectantly. : 1
tes, but finally conquered b
wand smile, goe Vin
desired gift,
youl bring me anotuer i
meets Jaecanie
8 a y that
Lh
winnin
quest of t
g voice
!
ue
“And now. Monsieur,” says the little
woman, leant
ug back on her cushions,
hame's attention had
stowed upon Miss Etliot « the
al
ly bending over her.
is a very good-looking face
loving friends has so
to a Gordon setter, hh dark, lustrous
and if there
bh and
by the black
He
+i
Le
weak hoes marr ut
chin they are
are thie
COLCea d
silky mustache which covers both,
is a popular man, especially with
women, who casiy eall
‘Regme,"”’
frec-aud-easy compiiman
a charm of thelr when
that low musical murmur, 1 .
drawing room pet of thie uineteenth
century, such as one with here
snd there 1a the course of every season.
OU! a very differeut type is Leslie Gra-
hame, the man who, standing iu
Fotos
AEA
ald smile ON
t 2 ich
ba
ittered in
5 Ww i vo
own
n Iaci &
$
meels
the
less reearks of a goseiping anquaint-
ance, Of Scottish descent and with a
ruggid cast of features common to that
uatior, he might, exeept for his com-
wandiug height, pass nunoticed in the
crowd assembled at Lady Hethering-
{ons ‘At Home,” Bat probably, ou
Aldershot fieid-day, a spectator would
pick cat the cavalry oflicer who sits his
norse so gallantly (though three fingers
of his bridle hand are gone, and Le 1s
fain to wind the chargers reins areund
his wrist) as au object of curiosity.
For do not other medals besides those
so lately won in Egypt decorate his
breast, sud is there uot some tale of
danger and heroism, almost unparalled
in the modern aanals, connected with
the cross earned at Ulundi?
Blanche Eiliot, keen-witted in read-
ing counienances, has mngled him out
this evening, and appeals to Vane with
a half conscious laugh.
‘Pray, who is that stero-looking man
jenning sgeinst the door? He appears
to take au interest in me-—this is the
second time I have caught him gazing
this way,”
“fs that so remarkable? 1 should
have thought the oceurrence too fre-
quent and natural to attract your at-
1ention-—although 1t is rather wonder.
ful for Colonel Ureshame to condescend
to notice any one. His head is usually
in the clouds,’
“He looks out of place here, and he
feels it. See he is ‘sloping off,” as you
AY.
» V, C., is he uct?”
Just so, A great hero iu his way,
put not 6 very amusing companion in
ordinary life. | only know him by
sight, however. Bat tell me once more,
when and where am I to see you again?’
Miss Eiliot was playing with her fan,
and contrives with it to hide the eolor
that for » moment overspreads her lace
at this question,
As she remains silent he repeats it
more eagerly,
“Yon know my hours—I always ride
in the evening during this hot weather
5 to 8-1 shall probably do so to-
morrow,”
“To-morrow?’ Vane's handsome face
petrays evident disturbance. ‘I am
sfrma 1 shall be out of town, Very
provoking —an old cugagement with «
te'ation,”
“Why stoop to prevarioatio, Sir
eginaid? Blanche has risen fiow, snd
Or wats een wre Hasultg “You wre
i
large innocent blue eyes, ‘how has tae
world been usi
give al
Where were you last
Ihe
ner
9 a i wink?
ng vou since last we met
po | f
acooun 4
YOuUrse!
Tn
ont
Hie
«Miss E'liot was not
careless little tone of
“No, I took it
house, wh
say for he reel
“Aud wh
thea
Lal
i.
left
yA
) the i
eloguen
{
cross: take some more strawbe
ABTS
here, Where dia
“Toacouplcols
go allerwards?”
id erushes——really
in this weather,
toler.
vou
tap
institutio
1
OTIS Were
“And you en} it
oyed yourseil tere!
unless
tempted you."
: when you
some special attractiou
“And how could that
0
“Well meant. my friend, but hardly
expected from you.
rua in to ask why
tea,"
“Here it comes—and confound it!-—
nother visitor. Why cannot that
butler of yours learn (iscretion?”
“Because 1 prefer to exercise my
own,” replies Mrs, Fairfax. Aad the
little figure is drawn up, and the baby
face takes au expression for a
which warns Vane he has gone too far,
“Who would have thought,” he mur-
murs into his beard, ‘that the little
pussy cat could show such claws?”
Meanwhile Mrs, Fairfax has nsen
they don’t bring
The servant mumbles name which
she does not catch, and she lifts her
pretty appealing eyes in some per.
plexity to the stranger's face.
Something she reads in that grave,
bronzed conntenance brings back
ola memories—recalling » tims long
passed away, before poor Jack Fairfax
won her with his hasty, impetaous tale
of love-~before she had, as it were,
leaped suddenly from childhood into
the glare and excitement of a spoiled
beguty’s life, Nor is the dream dis
pelled when the visitor speaks, uncon-
ih
the gentleness he would have used
addressing a child
“You Lave not forgotten me, Mrs,
1 do not wonder-~it is years
since we met—and—
“No, no,” she suddenly cried, with a
“Yon are
Captain CGirahsme-—my playlellow of
long ago, 1 remember you quite well;
ut so mach has happened mince those
days"
“1 know,” he answered, gently,
wondering whether the shadow io her
blue eyes ic caused by Jack's memory,
or—-as he looks at the handsome young
fellow so evidently a: howe in this
garden-~by Jack's chosen suodessor.
And then the two mon glare al oue
another, after the fashion common to
Englshmen whon they meet for the
first time, and are unceriain whether to
be on Iriendly terms or to fly at each
other's throats,
“8ir Regoald Vene—Uaptain no, it
ws Colonel now, surely? I thought so
~Colonel Grahame,” And while a stiff
pow is exchanged sho proceeds to poar
ont the tea
Vine renews his attentions to Queenie,
but spe LCL sutue perverse justinet wl
| coquetry bestows all her favors upon
| the colonel, whose grave aspeot would
| hardly prove attractive to children in
| general, Xet it melts into a kindly
| smile as, lifting the little one npon his
| knee, he glances from her face to that
{ of her mother, older only by some
| eighteen years, and recalls the days
when Nina Forrester had sat as con-
| fidingly on the knee of the shy young
i cornet,
| **You will let me seull you up the
river, Mrs, Fairfax?” says Vane, as he
puts down his tea-cup. “I have not
| forgotten” (here his voice takes un more
| tender flection) *‘our last experience
to Hampton Court.”
| “Mrs, Fairfax looks doubtfully to-
| ward her other guest, who somewhat
sti fly observes: ‘Don't let me bo any
| hinderance to your plans, Or perhaps
you will allow me to take au oar in
| your service?”
Vane's face darkens, bat ths widow
{claps ber hands and answers gaily;
| “Capital! It would really have been
| hard work for ono alone in this boat.”
So Qnesnie runs to fetch her mother’s
| hat, but at the last moment finds the
| charms of a favorite kittens society
| irresistible, and selects to remain on
terra firma herself,
| Vane pulls stroke, and the boat glides |
smoothly away from the emerald bank
and out into the glassy expanss of
| water, amil scores of others gayly
laden with a similar freight, and look-
ling as if playing their part in some
holiday scene,
““This has been very
murmurs Vane, bending forward so
that his words are audible to the fair
steerer only, “My pleasant afternoon
all spoiled because
‘‘Boacanse you a foolish, sell
| willed boy,” answers the little woman,
who albeit some tour years his junior,
sometimes likes to play at maternal
airs, “Coma, shake oft your fit of the
hard on me,”
ate
1
have blurted out the words, but it
too late to recall them. She flashes a
glance at him, and he meets it steadily,
expecting to be assailed with a torrent
of feminine wrath, but is takne back nt
meeting instead a sudden burst of
tears.
“Mrs, Fairfax--what a brute I am
forgive me, I have lived so much alone
that I nave fallen into-a dreadful habit
of speaking my thoughts aloud.”
“But how came you to have
thoughts?”
“Could I help it? Only last night 1
heard your names coupled together by
the voice of common gossip, and to-day
have I not seen somes confirmation
the report? And I would not presume
to find fault, though 1 was once not
only Jack's friend, but almost a rough
elder brother to you in the forgotten
such
of
“Not forgotten,” murmurs a stifled
came to see me.”
“It was best not, 1.
and trusted me--his mentor
to call me, poor boy! But now- now,
Nina, I cannot but think of the old days
when I see you about to take an irre-
trievable step with one whom I can-
not think worthy —"
‘‘You are jealousl Our grave colonel
actually condescending to such weak-
sess!
you think Sir R:giuald Vane unworthy
“His dishonorable conduct towards
another woman, Forgive me, Nina
Heaven knows I would sooner bite my
tongue ont than say it—but he is play
ing a double part in this, making up to
you for fortune, while his hear!
he has to give—belongs to Miss Elliot,
I saw him by hor side last night, I
watched the looks and signs that passed
between them, and I speak solemn truth
what
t
acs
blues! Be agre and stay and dine
with ns” :
“With us? Are you going"
low) *““to iuvite that fellow too?”
“Certainly I am, He is one my
oldest friends”-—(*‘old enough!”
grumbles Vane)—*‘and { have not seen |
him for years, We have heaps of things
to say to oue
cable
{ Yery
§
Ui
very
another,”
‘*I'hen vou
better
wginald, io
will certainly get through
uninterrupted,” says
spiteful sotio
Nit
HA YOIOK
Tt
Fairfax, but
that 1 to dine out
afraid I shall have to
at
#
[ have jnst remembered
to-night, I
ASK fo
y that 1 can ge
more t
Lil
am |
Yana land
Sarbiton,
Steer
Tr £
i raiu,
fase: you
Bit
48 ¥ EF
MC.
“*What are
again that sweet,
and
rather
YOu
Vane grads hs
than
spreads
preadit
HOO |
surbiton 1s
Teaco
¢ ’ * ¥ 3 ve
sarcely attempts to disg
Co befor¢han i.
the
HK,
GY
11}
3 LAREN
stained sundry pt
loquy, and his face 1
than usual a steps wut)
d possesses him
d with a vigorous str
more in motion, the
seat ar ©.
A ke the
at
widow's eye
the first time lights upon the maimed
ad, and abe in
3 happen’
xolsims
3: 1 «4
isa 5
£
: 3 HW
Honth Africa—long
be afraid, My scenlling may
what clumsy, but I will promise {0
you home in due course of time.
“On, [ was not thanking of mysalf.
| But does it hurt you? 1 am so
sores I did not kuow before Sir Regin-
ald left us, could I help you, |
i wonder?”
“With those tiny hands of yours? |
No, no, I am getting on perfectly well; |
mt give that steam launch more space, |
or we shall get a tossing after she has |
passed.”
A silence follows, during which both
are busy with their own reflections,
| When Mrs, Fairfax lifts her eyes 10 her
| companion’s face it is so grave that she
{ exclaims in wonder:
“] was going to say, ‘A penny [Or]
| your thoughts,’ but from the expres-
| ston of your countenance yours must ;
| be weighty enough to be worth more
! Won't you be generous and impar
| them gratis?”
A long pause, during which she leans
| over the side of the boat and 1dly dab-
bles one hand in the water.
‘Puke care,” he says,
“yon will lose your rings."
“{ have none on that hand exiep
| She takes the little wile dungers val |
| of the water and gazes hail sadiy on the |
thick gold band Jack's wedding-ring
| placed there six years ago, and only
| eaghiteen months belore Jack's own |
| honest heart was still and cold.
Leslie Grabame is Jooking at it also,
nim to
Poa’t
80m te
got
So
ago.
il
Im
14
Hel
not
Or stay
warningly,
! and somehow the might nerves t
the aext words he has 10 say.
It 1s a long time sinse we met, is it
{ wot? | was riding witu poor Jack when
| ne bought that ring, sud a fow days
later I had orders for India, and so 1 |
missed the wedding, But [ did not
forget my oid friend or uis bride—nor,”
he adds more gently, “did 1 forget you
when sadder news reached me, Poor
Jack,” he says, dreamily, his thougnts
busy with the boy friend of his youth,
and in a manner forgeiting that he 1s
speaking to that friend's widow; *‘s0
yonug, so open-hearted and generous,”
«All that sud more,” she says, quick.
ly; “*he was too good for ims cold,
nard world, Ah me, fo think thas
Jack, wito was so strong, should have
been taken sod hitsle me left to lace
lite alone,”
“You have your child.” Uncoa-
seriously bis tose bas grown a little
sleru nial,
Daring Queenie! Yes, Dat it is
dali sometiues, aud vue Wauls HO ne
Ole WW Sous jess vi,’
when I say that 1 believe he has w
that poor girl's affections, and ths
he .
that 1 have
brought a cloud over
always connected
shine, I wil! go my
Cares
Ww
% the boat into tae
resting on his oars waits
ng ashore and give hin
dismissal, Dr Nina does
Her head is bent down
d 4
for
his
108 |
i
$ 3
i i
sprin 1
sb
AN
move,
overshadowed by her hat that
ne ¢an-
read the
ifaze
in a burst
yr
i
insulta
and you have borae it like an
jut as yon used to in the old
days when I was a ug unmaaly boy,
aud tyranized over you like the ruflian i
Was,
“And I liked you through
Thais was spoken very softly.
“Nina, Nina, do not drive me mad
You can do it—you always ocould--I
went away years ago because I knew
you cared for Jack.”
“You did?
“Was I not right? You would mever |
have ohosen me—the grave, stern |
Scotchman, fifteen years your ssnior— |
tid
144
this u
ngel
all.’
lad. And now don't think, |
you. I would not have seen you to-
yon unwarned of the gossip afloat. Dat |
and your own brave little heart
your best defense. Good-bye,
Say once that yon forg ive me-
as you used to long ago.”
© Lisalie!”
a se
iown to moor the boat, does not arrive
« minute sooner, or his astonished eyes
what Queenie after-
wards mysteriously reports: “My
mammie crying, and Colonel Grahame
comforting her, as mammie does when
mand on
nis shoulder and stroking her hair.’
For Leslic Grahame's long-repreased
the little piayfellow of early days--ihe
prizo which he gave ap ia bitter self.
to him the *‘ves,” which, had he been
more far-sighted, might
years of seltunficted exile.
LAA SAA WY WI 50
In Prussia the sale o! poisonous and
arsenical fly papers is only permitted to
ehemists and those who are authorized
to deal in poisons, Such persons even
are only permitted to sell them under
the samo regulations as must be
ved In the sale of all poisons,
regulations require that a poison
floate be given with them, and also that
the word *‘poisonous” be stamped upon
them. Io this conutry children have
more than onoe besu seriously injured
Ly the poison upon fly -papers,« 4
sold without caution.
These
#onpeh corn shoul 0: vat for ent.
ing jast as the tasset blooms, If eut
of ad You bios pwd Hud that wae
» ¥ ‘
Olt an Boo bib ain Vand
iss wae §¥ of 90 Late vie quality is in.
jae: ls
1
songs and song Writing
Justice Charles 1’, Daly read an in-
| teresting article on “Songs and Song
| Writing’ before the New York ilistor-
| jeal Society recently. He said at the
| outset that there was a great difference
| between things that were written for
songs and songs that were really songs.
The troubadours knew what a song was
| when they defined it as a piece of verse
{ that is fit to be sung. It was what
| Milton happily called tiie marriage of
| music and words, To be a successful
song writer one must be both a line
[poet and possessed of a fine ear for
music. It was this that made the
brilliant lyric successes of Burns and
Moore.
The Chief Justice considered musical
instruments at length, Egyptian hier.
| oglyphics proved, he said, that the old-
| est nations on the globe had these in-
siraments and used them, Illow they
used them was a mystery to modern
people. Ancient mural paintings show-
ed beyond a doubt, however, that the
Egyptians had music for religious cere-
monies and social entertainments, They
| were a lively, cheerful and gay people.
who liked social enjoyment. Their in-
struments of music were prototypes of
| modern implements of melody.
mausoleum in Thebes some time ago
| there was found a harp, with catgut
strings, that had lain silent for 3,000
years, The moment a human hand
swe)! trings they gave forth the
1 il harmony. In their hier-
oglyphics the Egyptians also preserved
their songs. Ope in particular was
| translated, and found the song of
4
i
Ol
i
i
Lis
{ threshera who beat the wheat, Two |
1 po : i
Babylonian were recent dis {
W tbhylonias
th
Li
Wh
BONIS
ly
covered h plowimnen |
BAN
hie
iit
ari ¥
o wi vin
vin
5
5 wi g
1]
He next ¢
They 1
msidered
fourished for 250
wh ]
taught
1860,
‘Why,
the moves
whea 1 was elg
Hege studyir
Nowit t
teen years old i
natural
I went to the Uni-
where there was a |
chess and where 1 was beaten
nine out of every ten games I played,
This was in June 1861. Then 1 began
in fact, I became infat-
uated with the game, 1 played in the
day time and read chess books at night.
By the following February there was no
man living who could give me the odds
of a knight, The great Anderson was
in Breslau and we played together a |
greal deal, na series of twenty-four
Was
al the SC en.
3
Ces, 3
versity o
club,
©
knight, I won twenty anid drew two,
“In reading the chess books so much
i discovered my capacity for carrying
a game as { read it, without looking
at a board, in much the same way as a
I culli-
vated the faculty, and finding that I
could play one game blindfolded, I tried
to play two games, and was suc easful,
| In January, 1868, I gave my first public
exhibition blindfold playing. 1
played seven games at that time, and
afterwards nine games. 1 never played
| eight that 1 can remember, Gradually
I run number up from nine Ww
twelve, and finally to sixteen. That is
{ as many games as 1 have ever attempted
| blindfold, and no other player has ever
{ done as much. I played the sixteen in
the West End Chess Club of London,
| December 11, 18068, against sixteen of
| the strongest amateur players of the SG
| George's and and West End Clubs. i
! won twelve, drew three, and lost but
one. The single winner was an Ameri-
can gentleman living in London, Mr.
LW, Baliard, The games that 1 played
| recently at the Manhattan Coess Club
| were not « fair test ol my skill, because
{ of the noise and interruptions to which
| I was subjected.”
! “Can you play nore
| games, do you think?"
“[ have no doubt of it. 1 think
there is no mental limit to the number
of games I might play, but there is a
physical Jimit; it is very wearying
work.”
“Do you play simply from memory.”
“1 have un way ot photographing «
board in my mind, and-—the boards
being numbered--when one is
called, the photograph of the position of
the men on that comes Instantly
before my mind while the last board as
On
0
the
than sixteen
i
1
quickly disappears. 1 never see two
boards before ine even
My mind at such tines
upon which a magic janie rn
shadow. amd just as the
changed in the magic
photographs of the ches
before my eyes.”
“Do yon adopt a certain
inks when you undertake
number of blindfold games
that
style of opening was
ular board?”’
“No, 1 go entirely by
the poards. Each game
tified in my mind with ac
call that number and
The most diffic part
playing is not, INAny BUppos
wards the conclusions of
but in the
the pieces
On LWo or
the games progress i
recall them, A board
into Gy mind precisely as
the last move, 1 never
over the moves to find oul
stand, I can at any time
moves in the regular order.
rames in Glasgow bl
and the play
is
for
itive
pict
nlern
board cha
ol
hie series yOu
Ty
741
lt
it
an
beginning of
are apt Lo be
more boards,
Fie
Ai WAYS
£
i
A CAN
bees area 4
have to g
buosw tH
DOW Li
“ry
but oi
wel ves
twelve ¢
nner g
'
I eYery mal,
twels
{ the ve
asked
many good chess pi
blindfolded
d how a
piay
mprene
dy dS WE
iW Doara’s
reader
¥
Sais
rested in
and Germar
window They relals
iv US
diseases and the benel
There
ei
Li
Ty
ud written
ior
AR
with the driver for
one, many times repeated, a
over the fare-box by the door, requested
the passengers to
x.” This legend
sg
‘put the exact
the Ix
ne DN
tion
bound
ATTOWHOSS
Often 1 do not
Dy
ke
the exact five «
the rule,
fo put
iron
wens ¢ .
wou in nore,
less, than
allowance is made {om
1
1
ana i
{ie
Olas
varyl 1%
1
ur
11 WOnGer ii
real justice
pany,
anxious
4
wi
'
and sther 3 wouk
0oN ery 1%
{
he
{travele:
by and restore
the excess, as it ig to follow him when
If this is not
then the company
should
he puts in too little. the
meaning of “exact,”
i more anxious to make money than to
do justice. I do not suppose this 18 so,
but there is one SUSPICIOUS thing about
a horse<car. The floor Is somelimues a
grating, amd straw 18 spre ad on this, so
that if the passenger, who is often
nervous and obliged to pass his fare from
hand to hand to the box, lets it drop
into {he straw, he never can nd
cmc ——
Ntatroncrs AlWAYS RAVE mMOre (Oss
gilt goods and it 1s no easy matter tw
keep these gilt goods bright and clean.
The following is a good recipe: Gill
articles, if of metal, may be cleaned by
rubbing them gently with a sponge or
soft brush moistened with » solution ol
hall an ounce of potash, or an ounce of
sods, or, perhaps best, an ounce of bo
rax. ina pint of water; then rinsiog
them in clean water and drying with a
soft linen rag. ‘Their luster may be
improved, in certain cases, Ly geully
heatiog them, and then applying gentle
friction with a soft rag. A very dilute
solution of evanide of potassium will an-
gwer the same purpose, by applying i
in the same manner as above, washing
in water and finally drying Ly gentle
friction with a Hour wag; out as this
substance is very poisonous, it is not to
be recommended for household uses,
Gilt frames of mirrors, pictures, eto,
should never be tonehed with saything
but clean water, gently applied with a
goft sponge or brush