'We should have gone back to-day, but for Gerard's coming.'

'Remember me to all of them,' said Val lightly. 'I must be off. Good-bye, old man. I shall see you in town shortly, I daresay.' He shook hands with nervous haste, and ran rapidly downstairs. The little man, drumming with his fingers on the top of his hat, looked after him thoughtfully.

'Didn't want to see me,' he mused. 'Walking languidly and apparently without a purpose, when I met him, and in a dreadful hurry now. M-m-m. Hasn't got over it yet. Comes over here to see Con, and finds himself too late. I'm very sorry for him, poor beggar; but if ever I am taken like that, if ever I fall in love, I'll try to hide the symptoms; and if the young woman doesn't want me, I'll try my hardest not to want the young woman.'

Val's persistence in a cause so evidently lost seemed a little disgraceful and unmanly, and even to Val himself it wore that complexion at times. The matter appeared to be growing hopeless enough now, and it seemed that Constance had resolved to hold no communication with him. If she were so resolved, Val was not yet so far gone that he could not see his way to the final cure of love. It was his belief that she had cared for him, which had so dangerously drawn him on all along; and he felt now that if he could but convince himself that he had been mistaken, he could go away and take his punishment like a man. But if he could, he would have a last glimpse of her before going for ever into the desert. So he went to see Toto-chez-Tata, and sitting in a dusky corner of the house, he watched for Constance. Had he looked to the stage and listened, he might have found a reason for her absence; but anyhow she did not come, and the fascinating Chaumont tripped and smiled and warbled, and Val heard nothing and saw nothing but misery and stupidity. Paris laughed and applauded. Val for once thought the Parisian judgment nothing worth. Reginald was there alone, with no eyes for anything but the stage, and Strange got away unnoticed. He saw Mr Jolly and his party leave the hotel next morning, and, himself unseen, watched Gerard and Constance as they drove away. In the evening, he disconsolately followed, and arriving in London, learned that they had all gone down to the Grange. Well, he would go to Brierham, and there might meet with her. Let him only learn that she was happy, and he would be content. The unsophisticated credulity of the human conscience is a thing to wonder at. All life long a man may lie to it, and it will believe him in spite of countless detections. Val's new fraud was harmless and natural enough. So much may be admitted.

mine. I don't think he's happy.-I didn't mean to interrupt you. What about the first time we met?'

'Do you remember a visitor that evening?' 'No.-Ah, yes. The Yankee fellow, who threw back Val's money, because Val supposed that he might have peeped into your letter.

That's the man,' said Gerard. 'Do you know, I shrewdly suspect that Yankee to be one of the finest fellows alive?' And Gerard, with much enthusiasm and some humour, told the story of Hiram's clandestine benefactions. With the honest fervour natural to youth, Reginald declared that Hiram was a brick, and protested loudly that something should be done to reward gratitude.

'I don't think it's a common virtue,' said Reginald; and where you find it, I think the soil is likely to be generally good.' And indeed there are few of the virtues which are less inclined to be solitary. The two agreed to take advantage of their passage through London to call upon Hiram. They had but a few hours to spare; but not being hindered by other business, they drove Strandwards, and alighted at the restaurant. When they entered, Hiram was deftly distributing a pile of plates before a tableful of hungry guests. He recognised Gerard at once, and bowed to him with the waiter's gesture of welcome, and having disposed of the hungry tableful, hurried to the new arrivals.

'Good-day, sir,' he said to Gerard.-'Good-day to you also, mister. I had the pleasure of seein' you, sir, I remember, when Mr Lumby sent me on a message to Valentine Strange, Esquire. You was in the billiard-room in that gentleman's mansion.-What shall I have the pleasure of bringin' you, gentlemen?' They had not eaten a meal since leaving Paris, ten hours before, and they were each ready for a beefsteak. bustled about and brought up the steaks in prime order, tender and juicy, flanked by floury potatoes, crisp little loaves, and the foaming tankard.

Hiram

'And now,' said Gerard, 'when you can spare a moment, I want to speak to you.' In a little while, Hiram found a lull in the demand for edibles and potables, and presented himself before the friends. 'What sort of a berth have you here?'

'Wall, sir,' returned Hiram, with the tone of a man who declines to commit himself, 'it's the bridge that's kerryin' me over a strip of time's tide, and I haven't got anything to say agen it.'

'Nor much for it, eh?' said Reginald. 'Yes, sir,' returned Hiram; 'lots for it. But it ain't the sort of theme to stimulate eloquence, and that's a fact. It's greasier than I like, for one thing.'

'Do you remember the first night we met?' asked Gerard.

'Yes,' said Reginald. 'It was at Val Strange's.' He half sighed 'Poor Val' under his breath; but Gerard, who had ears like a fox, overheard the exclamation.

Why poor Val?' asked unsuspicious Gerard. "What's the matter with him?'

'That's his secret,' said the little man-'not

Would you like to take service?'

'And go about in a pea-green vest and have my head floured?' inquired Hiram with decision. 'No, sir; I should not.' He looked a little offended at the suggestion.

'No; thank you,' said Gerard; 'I don't want a flunkey. If I offer you a post, I shall not ask you to have your head floured. But I want a smart faithful man, whom I can trust; a handy

fellow, who has no objection to travel, and who won't object to do what he's asked to do.' 'Well, sir,' returned Hiram, 'if you're shootin' my way, it's a bull's-eye. I'm all that. But what should I be asked to do?'

'I want a man to attend me personally, to travel with me when I travel, and to act generally as a sort of combination of valet and confidential man. I shall offer you a liberal salary; and if you treat me well, I shall treat you well.'

'Very good,' said Hiram. 'I'm engaged. But if you don't mind, I'll make a stipulation-two stipulations. Number one: If I don't like the berth when I've tried it, I'm not to be regarded as ongrateful if I throw it up.'

'Certainly not,' interjected Gerard.

'And number two,' continued Hiram: "That my own private proceedin's air not curtailed, so long as they don't interfere with my duties.' 'What private proceedings?' inquired Gerard, with some misgiving.

'Wall,' said Hiram slowly, looking from one to the other and stooping to fold a napkin on the table, the Apostle Paul says matrimony's honourable. As soon as ever I can manage itI've got a little gell to take care of, and I'm going to take that way with her. And if you give me a berth that lets me marry, I shall do

it.'

'Oh!' said Reginald, seeing Gerard a little dashed by this intimation. And who's the lady?'

Hiram straightened himself and looked at the little man keenly, insomuch that Reginald felt embarrassed, and took refuge behind his eyeglass. Yes,' said Hiram, as if in answer to an inward inquiry, I'll answer that question. The lady is the daughter of a bitter enemy of your family's, Mr Lumby. Her father isHer father is Well, mister, the long and short of it is, her father's about the biggest thief unhung. His name 's Garling.'At this the two friends glared at him and at each other. That is so, gentlemen,' said Hiram with great gravity. I know something about it, and part of it I guess. Mr Garling married under a false name, and deserted his wife and daughter, when my little gell was a baby.' And in answer to Gerard's amazed inquiries, he told briefly all he knew of Garling, detailing with the rest the scene in the offices of the great firm.

'I think it possible that I may owe you something,' said Gerard enigmatically, when Hiram's narration was closed. The date of Hiram's interview with Garling was that of the elder Lumby's last visit to town. Gerard more than half-guessed the truth. 'I must leave you to arrange your own domestic affairs,' he said after a pause. 'I shall not interfere with them. And now-as a matter of form-though I could scarcely forego it, I must ask to see your employer, and make some inquiries about you.'

'That's only fair to me,' said Hiram drily; and retiring, sent up the master of the restaurant. Gerard made his inquiries.

'Well, gentlemen,' said the restaurateur, 'I should be very unwilling to give him a recommendation.'

'May I ask why?' demanded Gerard. 'Because,' returned Hiram's employer, with

a twinkle of his beady foreign eyes, 'he is the best servant I ever had, and I should be sorry to lose him.'

The two friends laughed at this; and the restaurateur, pleased at the success of his little jest, laughed also.

"He is honest?' said Gerard.

'As I have found him,' said his employer, 'as the day.' 'Sober?'

'Remarkably. He is good fellow,' declared the restaurateur, returning to his joke; and I am sorry to say it, if it is to lose me my Hiram Search.'

'You don't object to his bettering his position?' asked Gerard.

'No, sir,' the foreigner answered heartily. 'He is good fellow. He will get on.'

On the strength of this, Hiram was recalled, preliminaries were completed; and the waiter formally gave his employer a week's notice. It was agreed that he should present himself at Lumby Hall in complete readiness to enter upon his duties.

'You will have a good servant, sir,' said the little foreigner.

'And I shall have a good master,' said Hiram. 'I thought you had no masters,' said Gerard, you Americans?'

'If you call beef mutton, it don't alter the flavour much,' responded Hiram; and when I'm in a country, I reckon to try to speak the language.'

"Oh,' said Gerard, and how many languages do you speak?'

"I sha'n't take the cheer for languages at nary one of your universities yet awhile,' returned Hiram; but I've spent five years in the Lee-vant, and I've picked up a bit o' five or six-French, Italian, Spanish, Greek, German, and a smatterin' of Turkish. I can talk any one of 'em fit to be smiled at; but I can't read one, wuss luck.'

'Gerard,' said Reginald when the two were outside, 'it's my opinion that Mr Search is a jewel.'

'I think so too,' said Gerard; 'but we shall

see.'

The week sped by rapidly; and Hiram at the appointed hour appeared at Lumby Hall. In less than a week after the date of his appearance, the cook and the upper-housemaid, who were both comely young women, and had hitherto been close companions, quarrelled over him. Ladies,' said Hiram, having observed this, and desiring to live at peace, 'I feel myself kind of shaking down in this charmin' society of yourn. After a rovin' life, how sweet is do-mestic felicity! The view of the feminine character which you have afforded me sence I first entered the present abode of bliss, has sort of crystallised the notions of matrimony which up to that time were floatin' in my soul. I'll ask you to excuse the poetry; but that's the fact. And in consequence of the impression prodooced upon my mind by you two charmin' angels, I am goin' to get married.'

'Indeed, Mr Search," said the upper-housemaid. She was a courageous woman, and bore the blow steadily. The cook was hors de combat. 'May we hask,' said the upper-housemaid, 'who is the 'appy bride?'

The happy bride, as you air so flatterin' as to

call her,' returned Hiram, 'will next week assoom a position in the household of Mr Jolly.'

This was true. Hiram had already interested Gerard in his sweetheart's fortunes, and little Mary was elected as Constance's maid.

DR SALVIATI'S GLASS-WORKS.

THE last of the grand palaces having been built, and the Republic of Venice having touched the zenith of her glory and greatness, she thenceforth began to decline. The arts and art-industries for which she had hitherto been famous, shared her fall, and gradually sank into decay; while the old masters of Venetian mosaic, whose works survive to this day, finding that the world had no longer any work for them, died out and became extinct. Nor was this all; for their secrets died with them, and the art of mixing and colouring glass after the manner of the old masters was entirely lost to their posterity.

The glass-blowers of the neighbouring island of Murano did not fare much better than those of Venice; for their once extensive workshops dwindled down into a few poor huts, and that which had once ranked as an art, sank down into a common handicraft, dragging out a miserable existence; while the glass-makers of England and Bohemia easily drove them from the market

even in their own land.

It was when things were at this very low ebb, that Dr Salviati, a native of Vicenza, who had studied the law in Padua, and had had a good practice in Venice for twenty years, chanced one day to come across 'George Sand's' novel, Les Maîtres Mosaïstes, in which she describes the brilliant period of the Venetian picture-mosaics.

It is well known that the five domes of St Mark's were once adorned inside with glorious pictures in glass-mosaic on a gold ground. The pictures themselves were well-nigh indestructible; but, most unfortunately, the building which contained them rested on a very unstable foundation; the vaulted domes were the first to sink, and parts of the mosaic cracked and fell out. There had already been some talk of repairing these pictures; but no one was bold enough to make the attempt; and in 1859 fresh lamentations were raised over the continued decay of such valuable works of art. It was just at this time that Dr Salviati's interest had been awakened in the subject; and being firmly convinced that the art-genius is hereditary, he first looked through the 'golden books' of the old Republic, in which the names of the best masters were formerly entered, and then made inquiries in Venice and Murano, where at length he had the pleasure of discovering certain descendants of the two famous families of Radi and Bonvico, who were still connected with glass-making. They were induced to join Dr Salviati; and a series of experiments was instituted with the object of re-discovering the old lost secret of colouring and mixing; the result being that one is now simply amazed at

The gold paste which almost always formed the background of the old mosaics, was said by technical workmen to be especially difficult to imitate; but the Doctor solved the enigma in a very simple manner by placing a very thin plate of gold on a sheet of glass, covering it with a thinner sheet of the same, and then fusing found to answer with silver, and the silver the three together. This process has not been paste, so far as we are aware, has yet to be discovered. A few years after the work had been taken in hand, the Academy of Fine Arts

in Venice announced that Dr Salviati's colours

equalled and in some instances even surpassed those of the ancients, while he had doubled

the number of tints. The raw material was therefore now ready; but unexpected difficulties The old arose as to the method of using it. masters worked from cartoons, which they copied bit by bit, putting each cube of glass at once into its place in the wall; but they were not mere real artists, the only difference being that they servile copyists; quite the contrary; they were painted with glass instead of with the brush. Men such as these with their skill and experience, as well as their ability, were not to be conjured up out of the ground even in Italy, where art is said to be indigenous; but necessity is ever the mother of invention, and Dr Salviati contrived has an immense advantage over the old one, and a method of producing the mosaic pictures, which insures the most faithful reproduction of the original design, as the work does not need to be done on the spot or on an unsteady scaffolding, as was previously the case; and it is no longer necessary for the copyist to be an almost greater As only artist than he who makes the design. technical skill is required, the work can be done at a much cheaper rate, and may be more extensively employed.

working-drawing on a table, face upwards. By The modern mosaic-worker lays his cartoon or means of a sharp hammer and anvil, he divides his pancakes of coloured glass into small dice, measuring a centimètre-a little over one-third of an inch-each way, and then places them on the picture, matching each tint and shade with the utmost exactness. When the design is entirely covered, he pours over it a fine cement, which penetrates every crack, and unites the whole into

one solid mass.

zinc tray; the design is washed off, and the picture It is then placed in a shallow appears, a true copy of the original, but with greater warmth of colour. The effect is so lifelike and artistic, as Herr Gampe says, and the

Journal

work is of such a lasting nature, that its value was soon generally recognised. Scarcely twenty years have passed since the revival of the art, and already specimens of Salviati's glass mosaics are to be seen throughout the civilised world; for example, in the new Opera-house in Paris; Parliament Buildings, Washington; Kensington Museum; Windsor Chapel; the Cathedrals of Aix-la-Chapelle and Torcello; the Rotunda of the Vienna Universal Exhibition, &c.; to say nothing of the private mansions and palaces which may be seen thus adorned throughout Europe, in Cairo and Alexandria, and even in the giant cities of the West.

The astonishing success which had attended his efforts, induced Salviati in 1862 to consider the possibility of reviving the glass-manufacture of Murano, which had fallen into a state of such dismal decay; and to this end he ransacked old churches, castles, and museums, to find some of the ancient Venetian models; his idea being that the first thing necessary was to accustom the eye of the glass-blower once more to beauty of form, and that then his artistic skill and feeling would revive spontaneously. It was quite certain that glass itself had not altered during the lapse of centuries, and was just as ductile, just as plastic in its red-hot state, as ever it had been in the days of the Doges. And here let it be noted that glass-making in Venice is a very different thing from glass-making in England and Bohemia. Glass-cutting, which is so extensively practised in both these countries, is quite unknown in Murano, as are also painting and gilding. The Venetian glass-blower models his article entirely while the glass is in a state of fusion, and has nothing more to do with it when it has cooled. He never puts the colour on afterwards, but mixes it in the liquid paste; and he has to complete the most elaborate articles in a few minutes every second being valuable, as the glass would become brittle if allowed to cool rapidly, and if kept too long out of the annealing oven. It is therefore essential that the eye and hand of the workman be trained to the utmost precision; for though he may find no great difficulty in making a dozen wine-glasses of exactly the same height and size, with nothing but his eye to guide him, it requires a very high degree of skill as well as artistic feeling to enable him to bring out all the delicate lines and curves equally, considering the rapidity with which he is obliged to work.

The Bohemians and the English, again, make their crystal glass of very decided colours, such as the Venetian glass could not stand, its paperlike delicacy and elegance requiring much more aerial tints, if form and colour are to be harmonised as they should be. Every furnace in Murano is accordingly surrounded by a regular laboratory, where the aesthetics of colour are carried to such a wonderful degree of perfection, that a visit to Dr Salviati's extensive premises in the Palazzo Swift sends one home amazed at the beauty and variety of the flower-like tints employed. All is brilliant, but nothing is glaring, and even the ruby-glass, which owes its peculiar brilliancy to an admixture of gold, shimmers with subdued radiance. Endless experiments have been necessary before certain shades of colour could be obtained, and there has been considerable diffi

culty in reproducing among others the opal glass of the old Venetians, which has no value at all unless it has a tinge or rather suspicion of red playing through it. The play of light, which is often surprisingly beautiful, depends in great measure upon the thickness of the glass, which requires the most careful regulation.

With regard to form, it must be admitted that Salviati sometimes overshoots his mark; there is a certain hyper-delicacy about some of his drinking-glasses, which look not merely fragile but weak, and one feels uncomfortable in the presence of such super-sensitive articles. Some of the showy glass chandeliers, too, are as much overloaded with leaves, flowers, and ornamentation as a German inn on a fête-day.

Another highly decorated article, which must disturb the peace of mind of its owner, is the Venetian mirror, which is actually made in Belgium, and only sent to Murano to be adorned with its wreath of flowers. It is impossible to help thinking of the unfortunate housemaid whose duty it will be to keep it clean, and one foresees that some fine day her duster will catch in the prickly leaves and blossoms, and then down the whole thing will go with a crash.

It is hardly possible to describe the process of modelling, any more than that of painting and carving. The visitor sees a workman dip his blowpipe into the molten glass, and take thence a shapeless lump, which a few dexterous touches and a little breath convert into an exquisite little sea-horse, a vase, or a filigree glass, which looks exactly as if it had been woven ; but how all this is done he cannot say, for it looks like the result of magic. Larger articles require re-heating, and this has to be done with extreme caution, lest their shape should be spoilt.

We may mention by the way, that most of the precious and semi-precious stones are imitated at Murano, and are bought by the Arab merchants, who sell them to the negroes. A handful of common glass mixed with certain earths and colours will produce what are to all appearance splendid specimens of agate and malachite.

But to return to Dr Salviati. The most difficult part of his enterprise has been, not the re-discovery of the secrets of the old masters, but the prosaic business matters inevitably connected with the establishment of his young art-industry. There is nothing of the tradesman about him; if there had been, if he had begun by calculating his chances of success from a commercial point of view, he would probably soon have given up the whole thing. Instead of calculating, however, he experimented, and so it happened that in 1866, he found that the whole of his very respectable fortune had been turned into glass. Thereupon, John Bull came to the rescue, and an English Company was formed, with Dr Salviati as its technical director; but though no doubt this was a great blessing for poor helpless Murano, it was hardly likely that the inventor would look on with equanimity while the large profits won by his own talents and great personal sacrifices flowed steadily into England. After a while, therefore, he resigned his post, and in 1877 founded a business of his own, and opened depôts in all the chief capitals of Europe. A number of his old workmen gladly returned to him, while others set up