sleepy driver suddenly started into life, and,
with a terrible outburst of wrath, gave us, by
motions, to understand that we had gone
beyond his destination. We paid very little
heed to him; but, leaping from the cart,
felt grateful for the blessing of whole bones.
There remained still one zwanziger unpaid;
but, to our astonishment, the Bohemian
relapsed into his old rage when this was tendered
to him, and, by a complication of finger-
reckoning, explained to us that he had never
received more than two. In fact, he ignored
all that had passed during his drunken fit.
Argument being on each side useless, we also
betook ourselves to abuse, and a terrible
conflict of strong language, in which neither
party understood the other, was the result.
We entered the chief inn of the village,
followed by the implacable Bohemian, who,
though ejected several times, never failed to
re-appear, repeating his finger calculations
every time, and concluding each assault with
the mystical words, "Sacramentum hallaluyah!"
The landlord came at length to our
assistance; and, by a few emphatic words in
his own language, exorcised this evil spirit.

MOIRÉ ANTIQUE.

THE Lady Blanche steps from her carriage,
and treads the carpeted floor of Messrs. Barège
and Mitt's, silk mercers in Regent Street.
She requests to be shown a moiré antique
dress; and forthwith there are spread out
before her a goodly assemblage of rich silks,
not stiffened with gum or adulterated with
cotton, but good solid genuine silk, worthy
of the best days of Spitalfields or of Lyons.
She selects one, and pays for it a certain
number of guineas, the exact amount of
which we cannot tell the reader because we
do not know.

Does Lady Blanche know what moiré
antique really means? She knows what it
is: viz., a rich kind of silk which happens
to be in fashion just at present. But what is
moiré, and why is it antique, and why do
the ladies prefer the antique to the modern,
supposing these to be both obtainable? Lady
Blanche of course speaks French. She knows
that moiré is a fabric to which a watered
or wavy appearance has been imparted; that
moirage or moiré is the appearance so given;
that moirer denotes the act of imparting it;
and that moireur is the person who
performs the work. Still Lady Blanche is at a
loss to account for two things—how is it all
produced, and why is it called antique?
Besides Lady Blanche learns that there is
such a thing as moiré metallique.

Any one who is old enough to remember
the time when kaleidoscopes were all the
rage, will call to mind that the tubes were
frequently covered externally with a
crystalline appearance, exhibiting a rich play of
reflected light. This enveloping substance
was moiré metallique. If we look at the
window on the morning of a frosty day, and
see the capricious forms which the delicate
little filaments of frozen moisture present, and
if we imagine an effect far more brilliant and
diversified, then shall we be able to form
something like an intelligible notion of the
appearance of the white varieties; if, further,
we suppose this frozen moisture to be
delicately tinted with transparent pigments, then
will it more nearly resemble the coloured
varieties of moiré metallique, which is nothing
more than a watered or clouded appearance
produced on metals by the action of acids.
We owe the coloured foils thus produced to
the French.

Thin leaves of coloured metal, receiving
their colour after the rolling of the metal
into the form of leaves, are used for many
ornamental purposes; but these are not
moiré metallique. They are employed on
metallic foils to some kinds of jewellery, to
brighten the richness of tint, especially if the
gem be of a factitious or imitative character.
The metal for such purposes is hammered and
rolled, and rolled and rolled again, until its
thickness does not exceed that of very thin
paper. It may be copper, or copper with a
very delicate clothing of silver, or tin, or a
mixed metal; it may be of various colours,
provided the sheet or leaf have the
requisite degree of tenuity. The colouring
substance may be Prussian blue, or sulphate
of indigo, or acetate of copper, or cochineal,
or sandal-wood, or litmus, or carmine; and
the resulting tint may be blue, green, yellow,
red, violet, ruby, or anything else which the
artist may wish to produce. But the metal
requires to be coaxed and humoured before
it will adapt itself to the wants of its owner—
before it will, in fact, become a mere creature
of circumstances. It requires a gentle cold
bath of the weakest possible solution of aqua-
fortis, to bring it to a proper state of purity
and cleanliness; and then it requires a
comfortable neat garment of isinglass gum, fitted
to it by means of a camel-hair pencil.
Prepared now for the ordeal of colour, the pigment
is applied in a liquid state to the surface of
the metal; and when this is dry, the last
stage of adornment, the last process of
beautification, is arrived at: the metal receives a
coating of transparent varnish, which at once
secures the pigment and increases its brilliancy
of tint.

All this, however, is not moiré metallique;
it is simply coloured foil. Nevertheless, it is
valuable to us, since the coloured foil really
does illustrate in some degree the mode in
which the moiré metallique is produced.
We owe this singular ornamental material, as
we do so many other articles of ornament and
graceful beauty, to the French. M. Allard
invented it thirty or forty years ago when
Sir David Brewster produced the kaleidoscope;
and it thus happened that the one
invention became employed as a decorative
covering to the other. This moiré metallique