Page images
PDF
EPUB
[graphic]

USEFUL RECEIPTS.

German Method to Prepare Quills.-Suspend the

quills in a copper over water, sufficiently high Method of cleaning Brass Ornaments. — Brass to touch the nibs; then close it steam-tight, raments, that have not been gilt or lacquered, and apply four hours' hard boiling ; next with nay be cleaned, and a very brilliant colour given draw and dry them, and in twenty-four hours o them, by washing them with alum boiled in cut the nibs and draw out the pith; lastly, rub trong ley, in the proportion of an ounce to a them with a piece of cloth and expose them to int, and afterwards rubbing them with strong a moderate heat. The quills prepared in this ripoli.-J. J.

way are as hard as bone, without being brittle, Varnish for Harness.—Take half a pound of and as transparent as glass.-J. J. adian rubber, one gallon of spirits of turpenne, dissolve enough to make it into a jelly by ings in the usual mauner, to take out the rough

To Clean Silk Stockings.-First wash the stock eeping almost new milk-warm : then take qual quantities of good linseed oil (in a hot

dirt. After rinsing them in clean water, wash

them well in a fresh soap liquor. Then make a ate) and the above mixture, incorporate them

third soap liquor, which colour with a little ell on a slow fire, and it is fit for use.-J. J.

stone-blue; then wash the stockings once more, To Take Impressions from Coins, &c.—Make a take them out, wring them, and particularıy ick solution of isinglass in water, and lay it dry them. Now stove them with brimstone, t on the metal, let it remain for twelve hours and draw on a wooden leg two stockings, one en remoje it,' breathe on it and apply gold upon the other, observing that the two fronts or silver-leaf on the wrong side. Any colour

outsides are face to face. Polish with a glass y be given to the isinglass instead of gold or

bottle. The two first liquors should be only ver, by simple mixture.-J. J.

lukewarm, but the third as hot as you can Shaving Soap.-Good white soap (in thin shav- bear your hand in. Blonds and gauzes may be "s), 3 pounds; palm soap, 1 pound; soft water, whitened in the same manner, but there should ound; soda, 1 ounce. Melt carefully over a be a little gum put in the last liquor before they w fire, in an earthen vessel, then add are stoved.-B. R. Wellingborough. ender, 60 drops; oil of lemon, 40 drops;

Dyes for Ivory.--Black. Immerse tne ivory in a gamot, 50 drops. Mix well, and make it

boiling solution of logwood, take it out and o forms.-ROBERT HUNT.

wash it in a solution of copperas. Blue. Imlo Bleach a Faded Dress.-Wash the dress in

merse the ivory in a mixture of sulphate of suds, and boil it until the colour appears to indigo and water, partly neutralized with potgone; then rinse it and dry it in the sun. ash.Green. Steep blued ivory in a solution of ould it not be rendered white by these means,

nitromuriate of tin, and then in a decoction of the dress in the open air, and bleach it for

fustic; or it may be at once dyed greeu by steeperal days. If_still not quite white, repeating it in a solution of acetate of copper. boiling.-W. D.

Yellow. Steep the ivory in a bath of neutral To Iron Silk.-Silk cannot be ironed smoothly, chromate of potash, and afterwards in a boiling is to press out all the creases, without first solution of acetate of lead. Red. Steep the inkling it with water, and rolling, it up | ivory for a short time in a solution of tin, then atly in a towel, letting it rest for an hour or in a decoction of Brazil or cochineal. Violet.

If the iron is in the least too hot, it will Moisten the ivory with a solution of tin, as beare the colour, and it should first be tried on fore, then immerse it in a decoction of logwood. old piece of the same silk.-C. C.

-T. SIMPSON. Po Take Fresh Paint out of a Coat.-Take imme

To Wash Thread Lace.-Rip off the lace, care tely a piece of cloth, and rub the wrong side it on the paint spot. If no other cloth is at fully pick out the loose bits of thread, and roll

the lace very smoothly and securely round a nd, part of the inside of the coat-skirt will This simple application will generally re

clean black bottle, previously covered with old

white linen, sewed tightly on. Tack each end ve the paint when quite fresh. Otherwise, i some ether on the spot with your finger.

of the lace with a needle and thread, to keep it

smooth; and be careful in wrapping not to Vax for Polishing Furniture.-Melt beeswax in crumple or fold

in any of the scallops or pearlrits of turpentine, with a very small propor. ings. After it is on the bottle, take some of the n of resin. When it is entirely dissolved, dip best sweet oil, and with a clean sponge wet the it a sponge, and wash the mahogany lightly lace thoroughly to the inmost folds. Have I with it. Immediately

afterwards, rub it off ready in a wash-kettle, a strong cold lather of th a clean soft cloth. For carved furniture,

clear water and white Castile soap. Fill the read the mixture on with a small soft brush,

bottle with cold water, to prevent its hursting, I rub it off with another brush, a very little

cork well, and stand it upright in the suds, der.-MARY PHILLIPS.

with a string round the neck secured to the "O Mend, Broken Glass.-Get some cloves of ears or handle of the kettle, to prevent its Pic, tie them in a rag, and they place them in | knocking about and breaking while over the n pan, pounding them with a hammer to get fire. Let it boil in the suds for an hour or more, the juice. Next take the broken glass, and till the lace is clean and white all through.

and smear each of the broken edges with Drain off the suds, and dry it on the bottle in garlic-juice. Then stick them firmly to

the sun. When dry, remove the lace from the ner, stand the article on a plate, and let it bottle and roll it round a wide ribbon-block; or ain undisturbed for a fortnight. The broken lay it in long folds, place it within a sheet of

of a pitcher can also be mended in this smooth white paper, and press it in a large aner.-J. WARDLE.

book for a few days.-W. W. c.

MUSICAL MAGNETISM. One of the party is sent out of the room, and some article of furniture in the room is fixed upon, which the person sent out is to guess, on returning to the rest of the party. Another, who knows the secret, then sits down to the piano, and plays loud whenever the person who is to guess approaches the article fixed upon, and softer when he recedes from it; till at last, when the article fixed upon is touched, the music finishes with a burst of triumph as loud as possible. This game, if well managed, is very amusing; as it is very droll, to those who are in the secret, to see the perplexity of the unfortunate guesser, who is rather bewildered than assisted by the music. It also affords considerable scope for ingenuity on the part of the musician, who should vary the strain from a melancholy to a joyous tune, or the reverse, according to circumstances.

2. My first and last are of equal strength,

They are joined by the shortest article ; When I'm complete, I should have strength,

But of active force not a particle.
My first's an equal, my last a passion,
I am a safeguard without compassion,
Placed both for use, and to be in the fashion.

3.
My first possesses power so great,
The strongest bend to it as fate:
My second is by most despised,
And yet sometimes is greatly prized;
My third has such attractive charms,
It wins e'en dulness to its arms.

4.
Four things there are of equal height,
Three straight, the other not upright;
Take three away, and you will find
That there are ten remain behind;
And, if you cut the four in twain,
Instead of two, just eight remain.

5.
Of brothers twin best known am I,
Though both are cold and very shy,
Always at home but never seen,
However courted we have been ;
Nor have we since the world began
Been known to meet, or ever can.
Many have tried and tried again,
To find me out, but tried in vain;
Whole nations have been bent upon it,
With all their mind, but have not done it ;
Yet why so great a stir and rout,
I ne'er was able to make out;
Since all the end of what they try
Is only how to pass me by.

ENIGMAS.

1.
My first your blood in secret draws;
My second chokes you in his paws;
But though you must beware of either
Both may be laugh'd at when together.

2.
My first, my second, and my third,

Mean the same thing, repeated o'er,
And yet, although it seems absurd,
Each of them, too, means something more.

3.
of water born, I upward fly,
Then faint and perish in the sky.
But, though by nature frce as light,
I can be ruled if managed right;
And then I give you powerful aid,
A slave in many labours made,
And still am turned to greatest use
The more I bully and refuse.

shrink, dilate, compress, expand,
Obedient to the master's hand;
Will drive his waggon, turn his mill,
Or weave, or stamp, or what he will:
O'er sea and land will make him speed
Without a sail, without a steed;
And for a thousand toils am fit
Not by himself discover'd yet.

4.
O wretched I, O hapless wight,

Still to be out, and still forsaken!
Who never, never can be right,
And nowhere, nowhere ever taken!

5.
To half your wish join half your fear,
And lo, a partner will appear.

TRANSPOSITIONS. 1. TERORB–The name of a person. 2. TAKE-Ditto. 3. FALOBFU-An animal. 4. IAXREALDAN—The name of a place. 5. FERCAPE--An introduction. 6. FUNERAL-A pantomime.

RIDDLES.

1. My first is wise and foolish, my second the physician's study, and my whole suits every study.

2. My first's a prop, my second a prop, 24 my whole is a prop.

3. My first is always at a wedding; my second is first wherever he goes; and my whole is caugti when he can be.

CHARADES.

1. Half of a bird that chattering flies

Across the wood is half of me; My other half your food supplies,

Though daily cast into the sea. A wondrous power pervades my whole,

And shown to stretch from pole to pole, In which the sailor finds a guide

To lead him through a starless void.

ANSWERS TO FAMILY PASTIME.)

PAGE 299. ENIGMAS-1. Day. 2. The letter I.

CHARADE-1, Button-the insect, Butterfisthe weapon, Tongue.

ARITHMETICAL QUESTIONS 1. 37 feet 6 inches 2. 90 yards.

TRANSPOSITIONS-1. Tar, 2. Part. 3. Madan.

[graphic][ocr errors][ocr errors]

CHAPTER XII.

THE MOTHER'S MISTAKE. such a height, that she would in all proba.

bility have forbidden her to pursue an occupation which exposed her to annoy

ance of the kind from which she had There was something in Robert Clif-, lately suffered. The mother knew, of ton's look and manner, so calculated to course, that a change was about to be » inspire confidence; there was also in his made-Mary had told her so much; and

conversation so entire an absence of allshe understood, also, that if her daughter flattery, or personal compliment, that Miss could meet the wishes of the gentleman Maitland found it quite as easy to trans- with whom she was now in treaty, her act business with him, as with her mother's circumstances would be improved ;. but banker. He was, as he said, almost an | beyond this, she had not been made acold man in care and in experience, and quainted with her daughter's trials and this premature gravity, and directness of perplexities. Indeed it was but seldom manner, gave him the air of one who that Mary ventured to communicate with thinks intently upon the matter in hand, her mother, on subjects of this kind ; and upon nothing else.

when she did so, there followed such an Mary wished her mother had been outburst of feeling, not unfrequently of present at the interview, and could have violent and bitter complaining about the seen what a correct, as well as friendly hardness of their lot, and the injustice kind of gentleman their lodger was. She and cruelty of the treatment they had met felt sure there would have been no objec- with from the world, that in addition to tion then to the proposal he had made all which she had really to bear, Mary of giving the young governess a few felt these vain and fruitless lamentations lessons in the art of drawing, as well as of her mother's an insupportable calamity, lending her a variety of subjects to prac- as weakening to her better resolutions tise upon by herself; but Mrs. Maitland as they were agonising to her heart. In did not know all ; if she had, her anxieties fact, her part in life, and the duty which for her daughter would have increased to she endeavoured to keep steadily before her, VOL.IX.-NO. CX,

2 A

too.

I am

was simply to make the best of things : Yes, honestly. But it will take a confor this she struggled; for this she prayed ; siderable time, and a good deal of patience and if sometimes she was entirely over- How long were you in learning come by an accession of girlish or womanly music?weakness, she had her own room far dis. “Why I am learning still.” tant from her mother's, where she could “So you will be with drawing.” weep alone, and where also she recovered “ Ah! but to teach it,—that is the strength to meet the pressing duties of each difficulty upon which I stumble. day.

afraid it is dishonest-mean-nay, absoThe feelings which Mary took with her lutely wrong-to attempt to teach what into this solitary room, the looks, the we do not understand.” attitude, the general deportment which “ So it would be, unquestionably, if her character involuntarily assumed when you ventured to go beyond your knowthere, were not more different from those ledge : but where can be the dishonesty which she habitually resumed when having of teaching others what you do know, to descend and meet her mother, or to go though it may be but little." out and mix with strangers—these were “I hope there is no harm in the present not more different than was the apartment ease. For instance, I do know that the itself from the well furnished, comfortable outline of this castle wall should be perroom which Mrs. Maitland occupied fectly straight, and yet I have not made below.

it so." “ The fact is,” said Mary, on the occa- “ Such difficulties you will conquer in sion of receiving her first lesson from a week. Robert Clifton, and during her mother's “I have only three weeks beyond the accidental absence from the room," the present; no doubt there will be plenty fact is, we are very poor, so poor, you

of fresh difficulties for each.” would hardly believe; my mother knows Yes, there will be the arch after the this, and feels it bitterly; but I do not straight line. The arch is rather difficult; want her to be reminded of it by what but you seem to have a very correct and she sees and feels immediately around discriminating eye, and that is half the her."

matter." “ Mrs. Maitland has a great deal of Ah! if I thought I really should suctaste, I dare say,” observed Robert. ceed! You don't know how much I wish “Oh!

,” said Mary “she likes to to take the situation which I have in prosee beautiful things about her, and I am spect. It seems like a fortune to me; and determined she shall have them while she yet, I dare say you would think it a very

So far as her own rooms extend, little fortune, so much do we measure our you'see she is pretty comfortable; and possessions by our wants. happily, she never ascends the stairs so All the while that Mary was talking, her high as to reach my habitation, where fingers were very busily employed; and I live like an owl, only that I want the her mind, notwithstanding these intervals picturesque embellishment of ivy round of cheerful chat, was still thrown into her my tower."

employment with all the energy she was "I have heard your hootings,” said accustomed to bring to bear upon what she Robert, " but I thought them rather had to do. musical. It may be owing to my want Robert watched the long thin fingers of of taste."

a hand which scarcely seemed as if it could “Oh! look here, look here !” exclaimed | belong to youth; and had it not been for Mary, whose castle was rapidly giving the cheerful tones of the voice which spoke way on one side, “what a dreadful business to him, the look of hope, the smile of I am making of this wall! And my time pleased excitement, and all those indicais so short, I must be gone in ten minutes. tions which belong to the undertaking of a Do you really believe that I ever shall new project fraught with future good, Rosucceed ?"

bert would have felt dispirited and sad at “I do," said Robert.

the contemplation of youth, and especially Honestly? "

1 of woman's youth, consigned to a state of

yes,”

can.

such privation as to render a hope-so i ness, even while she could enjoy, with all humble and so slender in itself—so rich in the buoyancy of a youthful mind, whatever satisfaction. But so it often is; and thus was amusing or agreeable. In her character mercifully has a kind Providence provided there was no morbid distaste for the pleafor us, that out of the very scantiness of sures of the present moment, none of that our resources grows the comparative rich- sickly sentimentality which so often turns ness of our means.

away with diseased imagination to picture So the lesson was ended. Mary laughed as most desirable the things which cannot at her own beginning ; but she did not be. And yet, with all the spring of mental quite despair. With the look of a happy life which fired her eye and animated her child she showed it to her mother, begging movements, there was the tall and slender her to try to admire it, and not to criticise form, the gentle bending figure, and all its faults too much. Robert stood by, the other indications of feminine delicacy, wondering at what he saw, and at the requiring, and demanding, under happier cheerful tones of the voice which had just circumstances, the tenderest care. been telling him of poverty, and trial, and Yet this gentle creature, so young too, of that poor little hope which he was en had to walk the streets of London alone in deavouring to strengthen into certainty. all kinds of weather, braving alike the

He stood by, wondering, and forgetting winter's storm and summer's heat. This 1

that his part in the matter was over with gentle creature, so young too, had to go the folding up of the papers, and that he out early, often faint and languid, to return had nothing more to do than to go away. late, more often weary and exhausted,

But though Robert had been giving a having laboured both with hand and head, lesson, he had also been receiving one ; yes, and with heart too, incessantly during and so also a kind Providence not unfre- the intervening time. This gentle creature, quently arranges for us. He had been so pressed with hard necessity--so overlearning a lesson in self-government, and wrought in all her youthful faculties in the right appreciation of those natural (scarcely as yet mature), had had to suffer gifts for which, but a few days before, he that worst of woman's trials-to be the sport had secretly complained that he was not of man's inherent selfishness-and to have permitted to find a use. As if we could' to feel that her character, her only earthly possess any gift upon which this impossi- possession, and consequently a vast posbility need necessarily be stamped. session to her, could at any time be injured,

" And this young creature," said Robert if not wholly sacrificed for his amusement, to himself, as he watched the daughter, and that without leaving her the common with one arm round her mother's neck, as right and power of self-defence. she playfully pointed out the merits of her Mary Maitland had had to feel all this, first performance, which she held in the and her spirit was naturally keenly alive to other," this young creature can make everything which could even remotely touch herself happy upon such scraps and shreds the purity and delicacy of her character ; as these! Well, I have more left than but her feelings were not embittered even she has, at any rate. My means of enjoy- by this humiliating passage in her young ment are rich in comparison with hers. | life. She rather thanked God, who had Why should I murmur or despond, when given her so early the ability and the she can rejoice so sincerely in this poor strength which were necessary for taking and pitiful hope ?”

care of herself. She had felt the circumWith Mary Maitland all was genuine. stances of her late experience very painfully She would have been impulsive, and she at times. She had acutely felt the want might have been too ardent, had not cir- of a father and protector, to whom she cumstances schooled her into habits of calm might appeal. She had felt a thousand and serious calculation ; and especially, agonising sensations in connection with had she not been early initiated into that her own lonely and isolated position ; but most valuable of all kinds of discipline, the they were for the most part confined to her necessity of caring for others even more own solitary apartment, where they somethan for herself. Hence the gravity with times found vent in a passionate burst of which she undertook any affairs of busi- | tears, so suddenly indulged, and so quickly

[ocr errors]
« PreviousContinue »