the outlines, shading and yellow staining, to become permanently imprinted upon it. The brilliancy of the glass may be injured by a failure to stop the firing at the right moment, or by defects in the construction of the kiln. Great care is taken to allow it to cool very slowly, as by rapid cooling it is liable to crack. One firing, as a general thing, is insufficient, many of the parts requiring further painting, which being done, they are placed again in the kiln and receive a final firing. The "cutting drawing" having been laid on a large board or table, the various pieces are properly placed upon it, and are then joined together by means of leaden bands grooved on each side and bent according to the drawing. These having been soldered together at all their intersections, the parts are all united and the window or panel is made.

Enamelled glass, that in which the surface only is colored, is much more modern, and exceedingly cheaper than the manufactures of pot metal, above described. The origin of enamelled glass was in the futile effort of glass painters to imitate nature more closely than was possible by the mosaic method. They wished to produce on transparent glass the same effect obtained by artists on canvas, and their endeavors were accordingly useless. All attempts at painting pictures true to nature on transparent surfaces are necessarily failures, and though the resemblance to the original may be better than in mosaic glass, the colors do not possess the depth and brilliancy of the pot metal. Painted windows all sooner or later become dingy; and, as a writer has stated, "are not very much superior, as far as coloring is concerned, to the productions of the modern art of diaphanic,' or the transparencies displayed on the streets about election times." The mosaic method, as I have before stated, is the only process worthy of our consideration, and to that art I shall endeavor to confine the remainder of this article.

To the late Mr. Charles Winston, of England, we owe much, if not all, that we know of the different styles of English ancient and mediæval stained glass. As the late Mr. Rickman divided English architecture from the Conquest to the Reformation into three principal styles: the Early English, the Decorated and the Perpendicular, so he classified painted windows. minute was his attention to detail, that we are now able to distinguish by the peculiarities of

drawing and coloring, the period in which any window was painted. In the following brief review of the styles, our principal authority is Mr. Winston's work on this subject:

THE EARLY ENGLISH STYLE may be said to have continued from the first introduction of glass windows until the earlier part of the reign of Edward I., or about the year 1280. The characteristics of this style may be summed up as follows:

The foliage is generally unnatural, resembling the artificial and ornamental scrolls of Norman and early English stonework. The figures have an exceedingly flat appearance, there being no attempt whatever to make them appear as if in relief. There is an utter want of perspective in the canopies, which are generally low and sm.ll in proportion to the figures which they cover The windows of this period are noted for poor drawing and disregard of anatomy in the representations of the human figure. There are also peculiarities in the glass itself, and in the mode of its construction. The glass is not so translucent as that of later periods, and the colors are much richer and softer than those seen in windows made subsequently. The windows of this period are noted for strong dark lines of enamel brown, and a large quantity of lead work. The most common early English examples are white pattern windows, composed of panels of white glass, on each of which is drawn a distinct foliaged pattern.

The windows of the DECORATED STYLE, which followed the early English and flourished for about a century, from 1280 to 1380, are characterized by more natural forms of foliage, the introduction of the before mentioned yellow stain, and higher canopies, exhibiting quite an amount of architectural detail. These have flat fronts, straight side gables, and high spires and pinnacles, which are colored red, blue, or green. The glass of this period is less substantial than formerly, the outlines less thick and less frequent, and the figures are more anatomically correct.

In the PERPENDICULAR STYLE, dating from 1400 to 1530, there is a return to conventional foliage of a peculiarly flat and delicate kind, and a predominance of yellow and white stained gla After the middle of the fifteenth century, te canopies are conspicuous for the first appearance of any attempt at perspective.

The CINQUE CENTO, or sixteenth century style, has for its distinctive characteristic the frequent

use of Renaissance and Italian forms in the place of Gothic; sometimes the styles are mingled, and at others the Gothic is dropped entirely. It embraces larger and more varied subjects than any of its predecessors, and by some is considered the perfection of the art of stained glass manufacture. Aesthetically considered, stained glass windows are productive of the finest effects. In churches and cathedrals they seem to be most appropriate. The bright rays of the glorious sun falling through them, partaking of their rich colors, and withal subdued, seem to impress the beholder with the holiness of the place. Thus must the poet Milton have been impressed when in his beautiful poem, "Il Penseroso," he wrote these lines:

"And storied windows, richly dight,
Casting a dim religious light."

Stained glass, from designs of a domestic character, has a rich appearance in dwellings. Library windows of this material give an exceedingly happy effect, and are by no means uncommon.

Stained glass windows to admit light to stairways are frequently used in villas, but for city mansions they are mostly inappropriate, on account of the gloom, as a general rule, caused by surrounding buildings. As fire-screens stained glass in frames of oak, ebony, walnut, or mahogany, is very pleasing. The bright glow of the fire shining through the rich dark colors of the pot-metal glass, gives a cheerful tone to the whole apartment. Stained glass medallions and panels hung in windows, are a very pleasant decoration. There are also numerous other ways in which stained glass may be applied to domestic purposes; and now that Americans are becoming more susceptible to the claims of art in household decoration, some attention to this subject, will, I trust, cause them to see its advantages as a beautifier of the home as well as the church.

The upper panes of windows in houses built in the Queen Anne style, are very generally filled in with stained glass, usually in heraldic designs, adding greatly to the beauty of the apartments.

Perhaps that sounds like a strange story to you, my readers, but voices do and always have done, curious things. There was once an inn-keeper who added to his earnings by letting his guests see him break drinking cups with his voice. In the Talmud, the Jews' ancient book of laws, there is something said about the reparation that should be made when an article is broken by the voice of any domestic animal. We are told that on the wild mountain roads of Switzerland, the muleteers tie up the bells of their mules, lest the tinkling should start an avalanche. A dog can play the pianoforte so far as to make certain strings vibrate by his bark; and, after all, vibration of the strings is what makes all the music of the pianoforte. Vibration is a moving to and fro as we see the pendulum of the clock do. All things have a

some things have a number of vibrations in their different parts. And when two things vibrate in time with each other, and are near each other, though it is only air that connects them, the moving of one is affected by that of the other. The lady's voice broke the shade because they vibrated in time with each other, and the motion of the voice so increased the motion of the glass as to loosen its particles and make it fall apart. When two clocks, with pendulums that have the same range of vibration, are in the same room, and the clock doors are open, if the pendulum of one is set in motion, the pendulum of the other will move too. This is the principle; every time the pendulum of the first clock vibrates, it sends a puff of air in the direction of the pendulum of the second clock; and these puffs, continued regularly, set the pendulum of the second clock a-going. When two pianos are in the same room, if the strings of one are struck, not only will they vibrate, but also the corresponding strings of the other

piano, provided that the forte pedal of the second piano has been depressed. And if you whistle a note into a piano, or violin, the strings of the instrument in unison with that note will audibly take it up.

In London boys carry milk about the streets in pails which hang from a yoke on their shoulders, and are held off from their bodies by hoops just below the waist. If these boys kept up a regular step, the vibration of their bodies would increase the vibration of the milk until that was spilled. The little fellows may not quite understand the philosophy of the matter, but they know they must change their step from time to time to keep their milk in the pails.

A strong gust of wind will uproot a majestic tree when it comes just in time with the tree's own swing, or vibration. Some years ago there was considerable annoyance in one of the mills in Lowell, because the walls and floors of the building were shaken on certain days by the machinery. At these times, a pail of water would be almost emptied of its contents by the motion of the factory. It was finally discovered that on the days of disturbance the machinery went at a rate in keeping with the vibration of the building, and the trouble was readily overcome, by making the machinery work either faster or slower than had been the custoin.

The first iron bridge ever built was that at Colebrooke Dale, in England. While it was building a fiddler came along, and exclaimed, "I can fiddle that bridge down!" The workmen, little alarmed, bade him fiddle away to his heart's content. Whereupon the musician tried one note after another upon his instrument until he hit upon one in tune with the movement of the bridge, and then the structure began to quiver so perceptibly that the laborers begged him to cease and let them alone.

It is usual for a band of soldiers when they come to a bridge to stop music and walk over in broken file. Terrible calamities have occurred in cases where this precaution was not taken, as at Angiers, in France, where a suspension-bridge broke in under a body of soldiers marching over in file, and two hundred and eighty lives were lost. Robert Stephenson said there was not so much danger when a bridge was crowded with men or cattle, or when cavalry were on it, as when soldiers passed over keeping step. Indeed, if it were

possible to make a mouse walk back and forth continuously over a bridge, keeping time with the vibration of the bridge, the mouse would eventually destroy the bridge.

When Galileo discovered, that by blowing with his mouth upon a pendulum each time it moved away from him, he could greatly augment its velocity, he arrived at the important fact that a slight impulse, if regularly repeated, may become of great consequence. On the same principle, a heavy bell that a strong man can scarcely move by one pull with all his might, can be set in violent motion by a mere boy, if the lad gives regular pulls at the rope, because each pull slightly increases the bell's vibration. So in swinging a child, if a push is given every time the child comes back, he will keep going higher and higher until he finally goes over the tree; but break the sameness of the motion by giving a push before the swing has come way back, and you will stop the swing.

Put a tuning-fork in connection with another tuning-fork of the same pitch, and its strength is increased. The same effect is produced by holding a tuning-fork over the mouth of a bottle, if you apply one that vibrates in time with the air in the bottle. The sound, called the song of the sea, that is heard when a shell is held to the ear, is the vibration of air in the shell. The music of the mighty organ is caused by the vibration of air on the pipes. Sound is the sensation we experience from vibrations that reach the ear. These vibrations are constantly passing through the air, but other matter may convey them. When a tree is felled, if a person slightly scratches with a pen knife on one end of the tree, another person with his ear pressed at the other end can distinctly hear the sound, which in this instance is conveyed through the tree itself.

But what of the statement, that two sounds can create silence? At first thought, as some ore has suggested, it seems as absurd as to say that two loaves can make no bread. But when we reflect that sound comes from vibration of the air, we can believe that when two vibrations of opposite systems unite, they sometimes increase sound, and, sometimes, just destroy each other, so making silence. It is with sounds, or vibrations of the air, exactly as in the case of the waves of the sea One wave may join another in such manner as t ride triumphantly on its crest; or it may just t

up the other's trough, and so stop the motion of both. At one point on the coast of Ireland there is no tide, because the waves of the Irish Sea and the Atlantic Ocean unite in the latter

way.

It has been found that the Davy Lamp, invented for colliers to take into the mines, is not always a safety-lamp, for a very loud noise, like that of a blast in a coal mine, may cause such an increase of vibration that the flame and the outside gas will meet. The effect of firing a pistol near a Davy Lamp was tried, and it was found that the report caused the flame and outside gas to meet.

At Manchester, in Massachusetts, there is a wonderful singing beach; for, owing to some peculiarity of form, the vibration of the sand on this beach is keenly musical.

There is also on the peninsula of Mount Sinai a hill called Gibel Nakus, or Mountain of the Bell, where musical tones are distinctly heard, and have excited much curiosity and given rise to various speculations concerning their origin. Some years ago a Lieutenant Newbold, of the Madras army, visited this curious hill. Setting off from Wadi Tor, "after two hours' riding and a short walk of half an hour, he reached the place, which he described as a belt-shaped hill, from three hundred and fifty to four hundred feet in height. On its western side, which faces the Red Sea, is a slope of about eighty feet, covered with a very fine quartzose sand, varying in depth from five or six inches to as many feet, according to the form of the sandstone rock which it covers. This is the spot from which the mysterious sounds issue. Not the slightest noise was heard; but their Arab guide, desiring them to wait still at the bottom of the slope, began to ascend the slope, sinking

to his knees at every step. The travellers soon heard a faint sound resembling the lower string of a violoncello slightly touched; and being disappointed at the result, determined to ascend themselves, in spite of the intense heat of the sun. and extreme fineness of the sand. On reaching the summit they sat down to observe the effect. The particles of sand set in motion agitated not only those below them, but, though in a less degree, those all around them, like the surface of water disturbed by a stone. In about two minutes they heard a rustling sound, and then the musical tone above alluded to, which gradually increased to that of a deep mellow church bell, so loud that it recalled the rumbling of distant thunder. This occurred when the whole surface was in motion, and the effect upon themselves, the travellers compared to what they supposed might be felt by persons seated upon some enormous stringed instrument, while a bow was slowly drawn over the chords. They descended while the sound was at its height; and soon after it began to lessen with the motion of the sand, until, at the end of a quarter of an hour, all was perfectly still again."

There are also what are called "singing flames;" for two or more flames burning within tubes will vibrate in unison as long as they are kept apart, and by means of them music can be produced that sounds surprisingly like that of the human voice.

If a tuning-fork, while vibrating, is held near a certain kind of flame its vibrations will be caught up by the flames, and by the aid of a special contrivance can be seen. This brings us to visible music, a real art now, and a highly interesting and enjoyable one, but we must not enter upon it in this paper.

OH, say not life is dark!
There's brightness for us all;
For you and me and every one
The warming sun rays fall;

The moon and stars at night thy path
Illume as well as mine,

For you and me and every one

The beams of pleasure shine.

Oh, say not life is dark,

Though fortune be not fair!

The cottage of the toiling man

May have a jewel there!

Though wealth has never round its hearth
Its golden circle bent,

Perhaps the gem of love is there
That hearth to ornament.

Oh, say not life is dark,
Though poverty be there!
Thou hast a heart within thy breast,
A soul which is divine.

Strive on, plod on thy humble way,

And peace thy lot shall bless,

The fountain-head whence issues all Of human blessedness.

Oh, say not life is dark!

There's brightness all around; How oft beneath a homely garb A noble heart is found;

The laborer in his lowly cot,

The beggar on the road, The miser and the millionaire, All have one common God.