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cold, it is sufficiently thick, if not, boil it until it becomes thicker; and (while hot) having previously removed the lettuce into the jar in which it is intended to remain, strain the syrup over the lettuce, and let it remain till the next day; then take some silver paper, cut rather larger than the size of the jar, slightly cut the edges round, and lay it in very pure olive oil; place the paper to drain all the oil off, then press it firmly on the preserve. Nothing more is needed to keep it free from mould, if it be placed in a moderately dry situation.

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being clustered together in natural positions, some appearing as if just gathered and thrown down, while the half of the flower is partially concealed by another lying across it, and some appear slightly decayed, and the partially wormeaten leaves giving such a natural appearance to the whole, that not only is the stiffness which usually accompanies embroidery done away with, but the spectator seems deceived into the actual belief that the flowers are real. The stomacher and sleeves are embroidered in gold; the latter being puffed with white satin. There must have been many hundred skeins of silk used in the embroidery alone.

A SOFA MADE OF COAL.-There is one peculiarity of the coal found in the district of Fife, that it can be converted into articles of household furniture; such as looking-glass frames, writingdesks, chairs, and tables. A Mr. Williamson has produced a sofa wholly composed of coal; it is nine feet long, with three compartments or

divisions, and is sufficiently large to contain beautifully carved, displaying three mongrel seven when sitting. The front standards are

animals.

THERE has also been sent from Germany another sofa of sculptured coal. The arms are in the form of the heads of animals, beautifully

executed.

MR. JANCOWSKI, of York, will exhibit an embroidered picture of the Contented Family. boured court dress and frill. MR. RALPH, of Coggeshill, sends a tam

MESSRS. ACKERMANN, of the Strand, the wellknown publishers of engravings and works of fine art, will exhibit, besides other articles of utility and elegance, two pole-screens of chaste design and novel appearance, each having a wreath of sea-weeds, with some lines of poetry in the centre; the beautiful but natural colours of these alge being so vivid as well as delicate in their tints, that they may well stand comparison with the bright flowers of ocean's rival. There is no doubt that when once these have been inspected, the collecting of, and adapting these marine gems to many ornamental purMR. J. BRAYSHAW, of Lancaster, will exhibit poses will become a favourite amusement with some elaborate specimens of needlework, reprenumerous ladies during the autumnal months.senting pictures from George Morland, also a As an exquisite and appropriate companion to these screens, is an alabaster table top, on which is painted a group of flowers, which, for richness of design and beauty of finish, can scarcely be surpassed. The varied tints of the leaves, the delicately graduated depth of colour in the red roses, the soft faint tinting in the white, with the fresh red buds just bursting, and the natural colour of the blue bells, contrast most admirably with the pure white of the table, forming, on the whole, one of the most chaste and elegant appendages to the drawing-room or boudoir that can be imagined.

quilt of mosaic work, each compartment containing an imitation of some well-known picture, worked with the needle on coloured cloth.

FANS.-Mons. Duvelléroy, the most eminent manufacturer of Paris, has a fan which he is making for the Emperor of Morocco, and which will be shown at the Exhibition. This fan is of the most gorgeous and costly description, and, without the paintings and other adornments, will be enriched with diamonds and other jewels costing upwards of £1,000.

MEER ALI MOORAD, the Omra of Scinde, has sent for exhibition, besides enamelled swords, &c., some very beautifully embroidered quilts, and a pearl robe, which is valued at £7,000; also, a gold-mounted saddle, set with precious stones, valued at £6,000.

BESIDES the carpet which has been worked by the ladies of England, there will also be a carpet exhibited by T. C. Appel, and some balls

MRS. TAWTON, of Union Street, Plymouth, has designed and worked an infant's cloak in a very novel manner; it is made of Cashmere, and exquisitely braided in two shades of pink, and between the braidings is a wavy line of open work running round the cloak and cape, formed in the material itself with a large needle, similar to that which is frequently introduced in cam-worked in Berlin Wool. bric collars. The corners of both robe and cape inside this open work is richly embroidered with silk in semi-wreaths of flowers, the centres of the flowers being filled with the open work.

MADEMOISELLE OLSHAUSEN, of Hamburg, contributes a bouquet of flowers formed of various spices. This is indeed a bouquet of rare fragrance, and no doubt will become a fashionable ornament for the drawing-room.

ONE of the Parisian jewellers, who has lately supplied the Queen of Spain with jewels to the amount of 1,800,000 francs, has obtained an authorization from her Majesty for exhibiting them.

MISS SOLOMONS, of York Road, Lambeth, has designed and worked a lady's splendid bal costumé dress. The material of the under skirt is of pink satin, most richly embroidered with gold braid, forming a deep and elegant scroll; the over skirt of white satin is exquisitely worked with coloured silks in natural floral COCKERMOUTH.-An elaborate specimen of groups; round the lower part of the skirt runs caligraphy, representing our Saviour being taken an elegant wreath, sprays from which run up from the cross, executed by Mr. Robinson Wilson, each breadth; and from these various flowers | who is an amateur, and who has executed it at

intervals on a shop-counter during the hours of business. This work occupied the artist about ten weeks. The outlines are taken from an old print by Rubens, and have never been touched with a brush, although some parts appear as if they had been so shaded. That operation was performed with a piece of paper when the strokes were damp, which gives it a pleasing effect. On each cheek alone are upwards of 2,000 strokes of the pen, made so as to imitate line engraving. The work has been executed by the aid of steel and crow pens in Indian ink, with the trifling exception of some of the shading.

IMPROVEMENT IN STATUARY.-Mr. Wilbud exhibits in the Fine Arts section a profile bust of Shakspere, cut from a common plaster cast, which, by a simple and inexpensive process, is made to possess the appearance and hardness of ivory, or of the most beautiful white marble, and which, when dusty, can be washed with soap and water. This bust is an experiment, but has been so far successful that it is Mr. Wilbud's intention to prepare the busts of various other poets, statemen, &c., in the same manner.

THE SOMNIFEROUS ELECTRIC BRUSH, invented by the Rev. Wm. Mitchell, M.A., minister of the Scottish Presbyterian Church, Woolwich. This new method to secure "balmy" repose first occurred to the mind of the projector in consequence of certain scientific experiments lately made by testing the electrical results produced by silks of different colours and hues when brought into contact with other objects. The most eminent of philosophers and scientific men will most readily admit that there are innumerable benefits which flow from a variety of objects, while the real cause of these results are in a great measure, or even altogether, unascertained and unknown. Numerous undoubted testimonies have been given of the efficacy of the invention in producing a sound refreshing sleep, lasting from three to four hours, and upon its re-application again inducing sleep. The brush will be shown at the Great Exhibition. The motto on the brush is, "Health, the most precious of earthly blessings; it is essential to every other comfort."

ANECDOTE OF TAFI, THE PAINTER. Andrea Tafi, an Italian painter, born in 1213, was chiefly noted as a mosaic painter, which was about that period held in high estimation on account of its durability. A whimsical story is related of Tafi. It was customary with that painter, and with most of the artists of the time, when the nights were long, to rise before sunrise in the morning, and proceed with their work, after having roused their pupils.

Buonomico Buffalmaco happened to be one of those, and as he was by no means fond of being called out of bed in the middle of his night's rest, he set his wits to work to discover some expedient for putting a stop to this practice. Tafi's character possessed a tolerable portion of the weakness and superstition of the age. Buonomico knew this, and he soon hit upon a stratagem to avail himself of it. He went to the cellar, and raked together thirty enormous black beetles, and attached to the back of each a little taper. Just as Tafi's usual hour for rising had arrived, he lighted the tapers, and

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put the insects, one by one, through a chink of the door of his master's bedroom. Poor Tafi, wakening at the moment, and terrified to death at the sight of these crawling lights, began to recommend himself to the Virgin, and saying his prayers as softly as he could, hid his head under the bed-clothes. In this situation he remained till day-light, never once thinking of his pupils. At length, however, he ventured to rise, and going to Buonomico's bedside, asked him whether he had seen anything of the thousand devils who had paid him a visit during the night. Buonomico replied that he had not, but that he was surprised he had not been called up as usual. "Ah!" said Tafi, "I had something else to think of besides painting, and I am deter mined not to remain in this house much longer." The following night Buonomico repeated his experiment, though on a smaller scale, putting only three beetles into his master's room. This was quite enough, however, added to the fright he had already had, to prevent Tafi from enjoying a wink of sleep; and as soon as it was day, he rose and left the house, with a determination never to enter it again. After some difficulty, however, Buonomico prevailed on him to return, and, in concert with the parish priest, exerted himself to console the afflicted artist. Aided by his spiritual auxiliary, he succeeded in persuading his master that demons must necessarily feel a very great antipathy to painters, not only because these evil spirits were always represented by artists in hideous and deformed shapes, but because they must be continually offended by the innumerable pictures of saints and angels which were painted. So," continued he, "it is very natural they should feel a spite against us; and as they are more powerful in the night than in the day, they will go on playing their pranks; aye, and even worse, if this practice of getting up in the night is not done away with." Tafi was by no means inclined to dispute this point; he lay quietly in his bed for the future, and was never more disturbed by demons.

STRAY WAIFS.

66

WISDOM.-In what is well begun, let us persevere, and know that none are wise but those

who determine to be wiser still.

CONCEIT. The worst kind of pedants are such as are naturally endowed with a very small share of common sense, and have read a great number of books without taste or distinction.

REAL FRIENDSHIP.-Real friendship is a slow grower, and never thrives unless engrafted upon a stock of known and reciprocal merit.

FALSE FRIENDSHIP.-False friendship, like the ivy, decays and ruins the walls it embraces; but true friendship gives new life to the object it supports, forming the most pleasing remedy against not only melancholy but every grievance and discontent.

ADVICE TO FOLLOW.

"Love all, trust a few, Do wrong to none; be able for thine enemy Rather in power than use; and keep thy friends Under thine own life's key; be checked for silence, But never taxed for speech."-Shakspere.

Chess.

"In artful contest let our warlike train
Move well directed o'er the colour'd plain."

DR. FRANKLIN, in his Morals of Chess, says, "that by playing at Chess we may learn Foresight, Circumspection, and Caution.

"First, Foresight, which looks a little into futurity, considers the consequences that may attend an action; for it is continually occurring to the player-If I move this piece, what will be the advantage or disadvantage of my new situation? What use can my adversary make of it to annoy me? What other moves can I make to support it, and to defend myself from his attacks?'

"Secondly, Circumspection, which surveys the whole Chess-board, or scene of action-the relation of the several pieces and their situations; the dangers they are repeatedly exposed to; the several possibilities of their aiding each other; the probabilities that the

adversary may make this or that move, and attack this or that piece; and what different inoves can be used to avoid his stroke, or turn its consequences against him.

"Thirdly, Caution, not to make our moves too hastily. This habit is best acquired by observing strictly the laws of the game; such as, if you touch a piece you must move it somewhere; if you set it down you must let it stand. By observing these rules the game becomes thereby more the image of human life."

Chess is a game where the victory can solely be ascribed to one's own will, and not to chance; but with equal players, a casual absence of mind alone determines the result.

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L. P.-Stripes for a Bed Quilt will be inserted in forthcoming numbers of TIMETHRIFT, so arranged, that the Toilet Cover in No. 1, shall be the centre of quilt.

A. N. R.-For the best way to wash Fish Serviettes, and all Crochet, refer to 1st Series, Shortway Edgings, by Mrs. Warren.

MARY EDE.-The best method of making moist hair curl is to avoid using pornades or grease of any kind, and to curl it at night in flat curls, in pieces of very soft silk or satin. If this is persevered in, damp weather will have very little effect on it.

light, sun, and water; if this be attended to, they will bloom very freely in June.

OP.-Asbestos is a mineral substance, and is found in all countries, forming veins in mica, slate, and limestone rocks. RUSTICUS.-Asparagus plants should remain three years before they are cut, after which, they will continue to afford a seven years' supply.

ROSA.-Good pastry for tarts is best made with half butter and half lard, rubbing the lard into the flour first. All Letters and Communications for the Editor to be addressed, care of Messrs. PETTER, DUFF, and Co.,

AMY.-The cactus plants should now be given plenty of 3, Crane Court, Fleet Street.

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MARY TREWEEK.

BY THETA.

(Concluded from page 39.)

THIRD PART.

that led to her home. His eyes, so large, so full of light, so mournfully sad, seemed to look upon her as she sat opposite her motheras she tried to sleep in a restless bed. Arnold Lyne seemed to haunt her. She could think of little else. Why was he so sad? why in HER new duties were a pleasure to Mary, mourning? why at Loaveen at all? were because she was fully equal to them, and very questions that she asked herself with secret soon she had gained both the love of her satisfaction. Yet his conduct puzzled her. blooming charge, and the regard of those on He came not near the cottage; he was rarely whom it was her privilege to depend. She seen in the town; and yet every fine morning, had the training of three most lovely and soon after sunrise, he went down the sloping elegant girls, endowed with sufficient good street, and thence into the broad shady woods, sense to appreciate her value, and to gain where of old he had so much delighted to much from her never tiring wish to inculcate wander; and might be seen coming up the good manners, and freely develop their moral same street, just before the grey shades of and intellectual powers. They looked up to evening drew their darkling curtains over her with cheerful respect. She loved them the magnificent scene of hanging woods, reft tenderly. And her noble employers, highly by the winding river, and broken by the pleased to witness the mutual satisfaction of picturesque villas upon which Florence's little the teacher and the pupils, neglected nothing window looked down. She heard of him that could add to her comfort in any way. from Martha-she caught a glimpse of his So far, Mary was happy. But it was tall commanding figure as he crossed the otherwise with Florence. For a while she bridge; but he made no effort to see her. felt the force of the reasons by which Mary Yet the sight of him brought back to her had urged her to cultivate her mind, and faithful memory the vivid recollection of increase her skill in music and art; and she many a pleasant stroll with Mary, or, it made desultory efforts to be all her sister had, might be, with other young friends, alike with the eloquence of a fond heart, urged her buoyant with health and hope, over the to become; but the effort, unsustained by breezy common, and up the heathy hill; of Mary's presence, was too much, her weak many a quiet lingering at the little bridge, traits of character prevailed, and she fell under whose tiny arch the rivulet gurgled in back into dreamy musings, during which she its serpentine course along the hollow between would recline, hour after hour, without the the hills. And then she wondered why least attempt to do anything that might add Arnold did not seek her, made no attempt to to her usefulness. Unhappily for her, their see her? Why he should fancy that a mother was even more listless. Relieved momentary fit of passion could make her cast from household cares by kind old Martha's quiet activity, the two might be said to have dreamed away life. And thus many, many months passed, during which Mary Treweek, by exercise, daily added somewhat to her powers of beneficence, and Florence lost a little of that sense of desolation which had at first so cast down her heart. But she was listless still, when the sudden apparition of Mr. Lyne, in deep black, at the old Gothic church of Loaveen, startled her once more into mental and bodily activity. There was an end of dreamy loitering. A change came over her being. Again she longed to feel the delicious breeze that swept from the sea along the slopes of the hill, on the steep crest of which she had often watched with Mary and Arnold the sun go down in glory behind the dark leafy woods, and where she had hunted for the bee-orchis among golden furze and purple heath, till Mary had refused any longer to stay from home, with its sterner calls upon her time and thought.

For many days after his sudden appearance at Loaveen Church, Florence Treweek did not see Mr. Lyne again; but she thought much of the sadness of his look, as he lifted his craped hat with an air of respectful deference, and stepped back from the narrow pathway

him at once from a heart that he knew was his own? why he should be so forgetful of the regard her mother had felt, did still feel, despite of all that had occurred, for him? Was this chilling conduct kind to her mother, just to herself? Had he any reason to think them harsh and unforgiving?

These reflections passed rapidly through her mind at the same time. She knew that her mother had the most exalted opinion of Arnold's abilities, and a firm persuasion that he could not fail to win a name. "I do not see," said Mrs. Treweek one day, "why Mr. Lyne should shrink from us. We could not help his sudden quarrel with Walter, and why does he resent it on us? It is most unkind of him; but," she added, with a bitterness very strange in her, "I forget we are in a cottage. We must not wonder if many who used to find our house a second home, have now only a faint idea of having once known us. But I did not look for this from him. As to Martha's tales, I do not believe a word of them. People always speak ill of the fallen, and such they then fancied Arnold Lyne; though at present he seems to be much at his ease. I wonder what friend he has lost?"

Florence wondered too, but she did not interrupt her mother's most unusual flow of

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thoughts, she only sewed on as fast as she could sew, with a colour that came and went, and an aching void in her young heart. At last, rousing herself, she found courage to say, "I cannot tell you, dear mother, how sad he looked,-how very sad." Then the conversation ceased; but having once touched on the subject, Arnold Lyne became a theme of great interest to both mother and daughter. It was not, however, until many weeks had passed, and summer had mellowed into autumn; not until the glorious sun had imprinted on many a leaf a tinge scarcely less beautiful than that of the soft curls which clustered in rich profusion on the delicate cheek of Florence, that Arnold Lyne took any steps to regain the favour of the lovely girl whose heart was so wholly devoted to him. At last, his gloomy fit subsiding, he resolved to do what his better judgment had long prompted should be done.

As Florence and a young companion were threading their way by a narrow path between the wood and the river, they were startled by a quick, firm tread on the crisped leaves, that could not be mistaken, and the heart of Florence fluttered; she clung to the arm of her friend, when a minute later Arnold Lyne was at her side. As if no cloud had ever come upon their happiness, he coolly pointed out a lovely vista among the trees to Florence's admiration. For some time the poor girl scarcely knew where she was, or what she was doing. His strong will overpowered her, whilst he spoke so fluently, and with such absence of all constraint, that the current of former feelings came flooding back upon her, and she, too, began to talk cheerfully, until, venturing to meet the full glow of his eyes, the blood mounted instantly to her temples, and her spirit was troubled as if she were conscious of wrong. She read deep, mournful reproach in those expressive organs. To her they seemed to say, Can you speak to me thus carelessly of matters light as air, when you cannot but see that my whole heart's desire is to be as we have been?

Florence became very silent, and he spoke chiefly to her companion of their walk, till they had ascended the path that led up into the town. Then, turning abruptly, Arnold said, "Miss Treweek, do you think I may intrude on Mrs. Treweek at so late an hour? I have an irrepressible wish to see her again; and to hear how one of whom I cannot think without shame, is prospering." "I am sure mamma will be glad to see you, Mr. Lyne," was the soft reply, given in so tremulous a tone as to make it a command for him to call. And on they went, to the pretty little cottage for which the taste and ceaseless activity of Mary had done so much.

Mrs. Treweek received Arnold in such a way as to show she had forgiven if not forgotten his outrageous conduct to her son, and in less than an hour they were freely

talking together as if no cloud had ever come upon the sunshine of their happiness. He did not try to palliate his conduct in any way, he only said that he was a strange man. He seemed to think that Florence was already bound to him,-to take it for granted that in her own mind she was not released from the promise she had once given him. He spoke to her and of her as if there had never been any interruption to their intercourse, and from that evening he knew that he had regained his full ascendancy, and had nothing to fear from Florence or her mother. But, from Mary? that was quite another matter. He felt very uneasy whenever he thought of her, and made up his mind to make Florence his own beyond the power of change, before she came home for her Christmas holidays. Her influence over Florence he dreaded. shrunk, too, from the close and searching questions he had reason to expect from her. With a hawk's eye, he watched for a seasonable opportunity, and it speedily came.

He

A remittance, with a letter from Walter, full of hope, had given Mrs. Treweek as much pleasure as she could possibly feel, when Arnold came in from a long walk with Florence and her friend, during which he had perfectly delighted them. Never before had he been so amusing. Never had he poured out his stores of observation more freely, or exercised his sarcastic humour more playfully. As they entered, smiling, Mrs. Treweek met their pleased look with one of unusual excitement. "I am sure," she said, "Mr. Lyne, you will be pleased to hear that Walter is doing better than he had hoped, and has every reason to look for an early permanent engagement.' "I am very glad to hear it," said Arnold, in an earnest tone of sincerity, that melted at once the faint trace of displeasure which yet remained at his outrage on her son. She had never looked upon him with more kindness. Florence was called away soon afterwards by Martha, and at once seizing the favourable opportunity, in a respectful, but very earnest manner, he urged his wishes for an early, and, if possible, immediate marriage. He was losing time sadly, he said, and it was his determination to fling every energy into the art which, of all others, he loved the best, and from which he entertained strong hopes of success; but at the worst, there would be enough, from the bequest of his lately deceased relative, to secure for Florence the comforts of life. He would not insult the kind heart of his old friend Walter by doubting that he had long since forgiven him. Why, then, should there be any delay? Why might not Florence marry at once? Why should not he at once devote himself to her and to his art? But all must rest with her. His fate was in her hands. She must decide.

Mrs. Treweek had, in her own mind, already decided in his favour. She only asked time

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