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listened with confiding trust. His manner, his tone, his representations of himself and family were such that I could not doubt him; my whole heart became his. Some circumstances discreditable to him becoming known to my family, they interdicted our acquaintance. I was a foolish and self-willed girl, and finding that my family set their faces utterly against our union, I fled from my home, deserted the dear mother and kind friends to whom I ought to have clung,—and in a few days I found myself deluded and deserted by him for whom I had violated all the ties which previously endeared life to me. Maddened at this terrible fate, I determined to seek oblivion in the dark ways of the world. Never from the time I left my home have my friends heard of me or I of them. We have long been dead to each other. I will not tell the horrors of mind, and sufferings of body through which I have passed. God knows how bitterly my heart has repented its sins. My last supplication to you is, that you will find out my aged mother-if the grave has not already claimed her; tell her of my repentance, and miserable end. Tell her that all her predictions were fulfilled, and that I die here in poverty and wretchedness, with no other friend but yourself to receive my last confession. Say that my last prayers are for her forgiveness. I have already, I believe, received mercy from God. And let her employ the history of my fate as a warning to weak creatures like myself, who may hereafter fall under the temptations of such heartless wretches as Charles Langford."

The name struck upon Alfred's ear with the force of thunder. The unhappy invalid had become insensible from exhaustion, and in a few hours afterwards her painful history closed for ever. Alfred left the Hospital, determining upon in

stant action.

(Continued at page 241.)

MOTHERS have an opportunity, both by their instruction and example, of fixing such lasting impressions upon their chil dren's minds, as, by the blessing of God upon their endeavours, neither the iniquity of the age nor the enemy of mankind, shall ever be able to blot out.Bishop Horne.

PAPIER-MACHÉ.

IT was towards the close of the last century that iron tea-trays began to be imitated or superseded by papier-maché, and from these trays has gradually sprung up an important department of Birmingham industry,—a department in which it is pretty generally admitted, we believe, that Birmingham excels all other places.

Although the real papier-maché snaps up all kinds of paper indiscriminately, with most impartial fairness, the tea-tray paper (if we may so term it) is not so easily satisfied; it requires whole sound sheets to work upon, and these sheets must have a certain definite quality to fit them for their destined purpose.

Let us watch, in thought, the making of a papier-maché tea- tray. In the first place we see that the paper employed has a grayish colour, and looks like thick blotting-paper; and in the next we see that a mould or form is employed to give shape to the tray. Artists or designers are constantly at work producing new patterns; but we are here supposing that a tolerably simple tray is to be manufactured. A model of the tray is prepared, giving the exact form and shape; and from this model a mould is cast in iron, brass, or copper; the surface of the mould corresponding, of course, with the interior of the tray to be made. Women. and girls, seated at tables, cut up the rough gray paper into pieces of the requisite size, and these pieces are handed to the pasters, who are also women-for it is worthy of remark that this very pretty art is one which is capable of being exercised in many of its branches by females. These pasters have beside them a plentiful supply of paste, made of flour and glue dissolved and boiled in water. The mould is greased, to prevent the paper from adhering. The first sheet is pasted on both sides, and handed to another woman, who lays it on the mould, pressing and rubbing and adjusting it until it conforms to the shape. Another and another are similarly applied, and the mould, with its threefold garment, is put into a drying-room, heated to a high temperature, where it is brought to a dried state. removed from the stove-room, filed to give it a tolerable smoothness of surface, and

It is

then clothed with three more layers of paper, in the same mode as before. Again is the stove-room employed, again the pasters ply their labour; a third time the stove-room, again the pasters; and so on, until thirty or forty thicknesses of paper have been applied, more or less, of course, according to the substance intended to be produced. For some purposes as many as a hundred and twenty thicknesses are pasted together, involving forty stove dryings, and of course carrying the operations over a considerable number of days. mass of pasteboard, six inches in thickness, which is occasionally produced for certain purposes, is perhaps one of the toughest and strongest materials we can imagine.

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The mould being covered with a sufficient layer, a knife is employed to dexterously loosen the paper at the edges; the greased state of the mould allows the paper to be removed from it. Then are all imperfections removed; the plane, the file, and the knife are applied to bring all "ship-shape " and proper.

Next come the adornments. The pasteboard itself is not beautiful, so beauty is sought in other ways. Shell-lac-varnish of very fine quality, coloured according to circumstances, is applied coat after coat, until a thickness is obtained sufficient for the purpose. The black polished surface of ordinary papier-maché trays is produced by black japan varnish, applied by women with a brush. But whether the varnish be black or coloured, it usually undergoes a rubbing and polishing to such a degree as to equal in brilliancy anything produced in the arts. It is said that the finest polishing instrument used to give the last finishing touch, after all the "rotten stones " and "emeries" have done their best, is the soft palm of a woman's hand; and that those females employed in this art, who are gifted by Nature with the much-coveted charm of a soft and delicate hand, find it commercially advantageous to preserve this softness and delicacy by a degree of gloved carefulness, not usual in their rank in life.

Then ensue the painting and the gilding, the bedizenment with gaudy show, or the adornment with graceful device, according as the goods are low or high-priced, or the manufacturer a man of taste or no taste.

A kind of stencilling is employed in cheap work, but in better specimens the real artist's pencil is brought into requisition.

The true papier-maché, that which was introduced about twenty-five years ago, and from which Mr. Bielefeld produces such a wondrous variety of decorative ornaments, is almost entirely paper; there may be a small precentage of other material to impart certain minor qualities, but it is essentially paper. And if we inquire what kind of paper is thus used, we find that it is any and every kind,-all will be welcome to the maché vat.

The kind of papier-maché which is now under notice is a paste-like mass formed of paper-pulp, and pressed in moulds to any desired form. Mr. Bielefeld, the leading manufacturer in this branch, has an establishment in the country where water-power can be commanded, and where machines, moved by this power, bring the paper to the required state. The paper, be it of what kind it may, or of as many different kinds as it may, is moistened, and chopped, and minced, and routed about until it becomes a perfectly homogenous pasty mass, or rather a mass having a consistency like that of dough or of putty. A trifling portion of other substances is, as we have said, introduced, but not sufficient to change the general character of the mass as a paper substance. Then comes the moulding or pressing. The material is too thick to be poured into a mould like plaster of Paris, or like molten metal; it is pressed into flattish moulds, like clay, or composition, or gutta-percha. A piece is cut off, about enough for the article to be made, it is pressed well into the mould, a counter-mould is placed upon it, and the force of a powerful press is brought to bear upon it, so as to drive the material into every minute crevice of the mould.

And here we come to the artistic department of such a manufacture as this. To command anything like a leading position in decorative art, there must be an untiring attention to new designs, new artistic ideas, new combinations of form, and colour, and material. Hence, in such au establishment as the one now under notice, the moulds are constantly increasing in number and value; not merely by hundred-weights, but by tons.

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WITH a certain anxious doubt, the children looked forward the next day to the continuation of the history of the unfortunates. These poor people had become of importance to them, on account of the

sorrowful lot that had befallen them.

They had expected that their fate would be changed, that, united as true friends, they would brave all the inconveniences of the long winter in this rough country, and thus would overcome all the circumstances and dangers which were to befall them. They had hoped that a ship coming to their deliverance would carry back the forsaken ones to their native country, and that Ivan, especially, would be received by his father with joy.

And all these beautiful hopes, had that single word "but" of their father destroyed!

"How will it be with those unfortunate

men?" asked Julia. "I have actually dreamed of them, how they died on the desolate island, were found, and-"

Gus. Strange! I, too, dreamed something like it. They must have had to fight with bears and wolves.

MAX. It is no worse, however, than if they were under the torrid zone, and been killed by lions and tigers, or were swallowed up by gigantic serpents.

MARIA. Very true. But what fine fruits they would have found, too, under the torrid zone! They could have laid out gardens and fields, have built themselves houses, as the colonists did on Robinson Crusoe's island. And what did they find on Spitzbergen ?-nothing but ice and

snow.

Gus. And they might also be poorly enough provided with the means of living. MAX. We will not trouble ourselves on this account. I hope it will be better than we feared. One can endure much, and

seamen especially can do so.

So the children talked it over among themselves, until, after supper, their father

*

seated himself in his chair, collected around him the young listeners, and, in the midst of their most longing expectation inquired, "How far had we gone yesterday evening?"

JULIA. Up to that horrible "but," by which you destroyed our rejoicing, dear father.

MOTHER. And such a "but" will you often enough experience in your life. Hopes often deceive, and not all the good which is anticipated takes place.

FATHER. You are quite right, good mother. But to go on with our story. With the best wishes of those left behind, the pilot, Ivan, and Gregory, quitted the wreck. The cold was severe, the air harsh and piercing. Only by quick walking, by means of warm clothing, and from the fact that they had much to bear, could they resist the penetrating and sensible chill.

Gus. Why, then, did they burden themselves with a large pack?

FATHER. Because they needed many things, and knew not what they might find there. They had each a gun, a sword, a cartouch-box filled with powder and ball, a bag with provisions, bread, bacon, a bottle of brandy, tobacco, and, besides, an axe, and every one of them a blanket. It was still dark when they left the wreck. On their left hand, they saw on the horizon a faint glimmer, which announced the near approach of the short day, lasting scarcely a few hours. In the twilight of this glimmer, the friends went forth in the direction they had once taken; and at last, in four hours' travel, reached the island, so greatly had the mirror-like surface of the ice, and the single-coloured snow, deceiyed them in respect to the distance.

JULIA. They must have been thankful, when they felt the dry ground under their

feet.

MAX. Just as did Robinson Crusoe, when he rose on land out of his sea-bath.

FATHER. Whether they were as well satisfied as he was, is a question. Robinson Crusoe saw himself saved from certain death"; he found, under a mild climate, an island, from the fruitfulness of which he might expect a sufficiency of articles of food. Our three friends saw before them a desolate land, a mass of rocks thrown

From the German of C. Hildebrandt, by together. There was no tree, no shrub

E. G. Smith.

was green, no bird sung in the tops of the

trees. No brook murmured there, over fields and meadows; they saw nothing but those vast barren heaps of rocks, which lay before them like the natumore height ened by the snow. The whole creation appeared as if petrified. A stillness, as of the grave, reigned in the desolation, in which not even the dissonant cry and illomened screech of a single raven broke in on the horrible silence. There' was no place for repose there; no cleft or cavern was to be found, not a splinter of wood, with which they could Kindle a fire to warm themselves."

ral colour of which wass,

10

Cautiously and timidly, our unfortunate wanderers trod over the rough icy ground, covered with rock. Caution was the more needful here, as neither of them were ignorant that the high i northern regions of the earth are inhabited by certain kinds of wild beasts, especially bears and wolves. Now the poor nien went forward beneath a rocky ledge, in which some hollows were to be seen, which appeared to become lost in the clefts within. The first and nearest one was chosen for their path. The surface was slippery, and appeared to be ice; a fact which led the pilot to the conclusion that they were going on the top of a frozen brook. The short day, hardly lasting for an hour, had broken, but of the sun our travellers saw nothing in the valley; only the highest points of the tocks were brightened by it. In the valley tself, there lay a twilight that made them shudder. The travellers saw nothing but #barren wild wall of rock, which took some other form at every step, according Is the windings of the valley gave them different views.

Ivan and Gregory advised a return : they believed they would thus find a better path. The pilot thought differently. Useless search aids us nothing," said he. "It robs us of our time and strength. According to my view, that hut must lie near a brook. If we do not find it, we shall probably discover some cavern, or a sheltering cleft, and, what is as needful, a way up on the rocky wall itself." This latter discovery was necessary, in order to place upon it the pitch torch agreed on as a signal.

JULIA. And did they find what they sought?

of

FATHER. Not indeed the hut. After half an walk, the rocky wall no longer appeared; the cliffs were more compact, and formed on both sides a smooth wall, which gradually rose up from the valley, that continually became wider. Suddenly, Ivan espied above, on the rock, a cavern or opening in the cliff, similar to the entrance of a cellar. It was as if they had found a treasure, or the house of a hospitable friend, so welcome was this discovery, MARIA. But what partieular use would this discovery be to them?

་་

FATHER. Do you imagine that it was a small one

Gus. No, Maria. It was already important that they had come to a shelter, so that they were not obliged to lie under the open sky.

FATHER. Very true, my son. In this region, encamping out, on the bare ground under the open sky, would not answer. Now they had found what they sought, a sheltering abode. The cavern lay at the height of a house above them. With some difficulty, they climbed up on the rock. One helped the other; and thus they reached the entrance of the cavern, which indeed did not enter very deep into the rock, but was quite clean, and large and roomy enough for them to take up their quarters in. The floor consisted of whitish gray sand, and the walls were smooth and even. "Thank God!" said the pilot, "who has thus far helped us, and He will yet help us more. We have, at least, a shelter from the wind and weather.""Now must our comrades come, and furnish up our quarters," added Ivan." We will give them the signal," answered the pilot. It so happened that the cavern discovered lay under an abrupt, but pretty high ledge of rocks. It was not yet quite dark, and dangerous as the climbing up was to them, yet they all three ventured on it. The ledge was surmounted while the setting sun yet shone a little. But what a prospect!

JULIA. A beautiful one?

FATHER. In a certain sense, yes. The friends stood on one of the highest points. Around them lay the rocks, strewed about like the ruins of a palace that, had fallen, only slightly illuminated by the fast disappearing sun. Over these masses, they

now saw the great field of ice through which they had wandered, and a fire, shining at a distance, showed them the region in which their companions still remained. By means of a spy-glass which they had taken with them, they clearly saw the pile of wood burning on the ice, and also the wreck, projecting above the icy mirror, illuminated by the flame. Now they fastened the torch between some stones, and the next moment set it on fire. Moreover, Gregory sent up three fire-rockets, which mounted into the pure, thin air, higher than usual, and diffused a beautiful light.

MARIA. Fire-rockets?

Sorrowfully sat the three friends there, eating their supper, in which they were obliged to go without a refreshing drink and a warming fire. A pile of wood now would have been comfortable to them. With it they might have warmed the cave, as well as lighted it, and could also have secured themselves against the attack of wild beasts. Little was said. Every one in silence wished only that the morning would come; for they imagined that then their friends would leave the wreck, and bring with them everything that was now wanting for them.

But yet a glance into the future showed them nothing but what was frightful; and even the conviction that in a few hours they should be joined to their friends, did little in affording them composure.

Oh, the unfortunates! They could not know that on this last-this only hopeJULIA. Now, father-it would not fail them?

FATHER. Yes, as they send them up in fireworks. They go quite high, move some minutes shining and bright in the air, and then burst. They can be seen in a dark night for many miles off, and they are used in war for signals, and to give notice of an attack, or any such thing. But to proceed. "Well," said the pilot, "that idea was a good one. We have now nothing to do but to wait whether our brethren will observe the signal." And truly, there rose in a moment from that direction three rockets. "Grand!" said Ivan. "Our friends have understood the sign. Now let us go back to our quar- FATHER. And still-but only listen ters.' Carefully they descended; the con- further. Exhausted by the difficult jourtinually burning torch shone on their toil-ney over the ice and the rocks, worn out some return, and they came back safely to their cavern.

As long as they were in the valley, they had experienced a piercing, moist, penetrating chill; on the cliff they found the reverse. A remarkably milder air blew around them, like that which is perceived in a thaw after cold weather. A distant muttering noise was heard, and the pilot concluded that there was going to be a change of the weather.

MAX. But the winter was near?

FATHER. Yes, indeed! In these northern regions, it is often the case that the summer ends partly with unusual storms, and partly these storms set in at the beginning of the winter, when the ice and snow have everywhere made their appearance. Then the sky is overcast with black clouds, and the rocks are upheaved by the violence of the tempest; but on the first clearing up of the air, suddenly comes in the most dreadful cold.

FATHER. Alas! it did fail them-an experience which you will often enough undergo in your life. The only hope often deludes. Well is it for him who never, never counts on blind chance!

MARIA. But yet those on the wreck had seen and answered the signal!

by cold, and enfeebled by their anxiety for the future, our three friends slept, covered up in their blankets, and with their loaded guns on their arms, until at last the pilot was roused by a dreadful howling and noise. He got up; the noise became more frightful continually, and the howling more horrible. He at once awaked the others, who sprung up affrighted, and in imagination already beheld a troop of wild bears before them. The darkness was awful; not a star shone. They stepped to the entrance of the cave-and what a meeting! The tempest broke howling on the rocks, and roared horribly through the valley. Snow and rain drove in at the entrance of the cavern in the face of these distressed men. All Nature was in the most dreadful uproar, and it often seemed to our unfortunates as if they heard the heavy roll of thunder.

Disturbed also as was the pilot, yet he constrained himself to appear calm. He

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