these curious preparations of gelatine are
sold in Paris. The gelatineur tells us that
the sheets generally measure about fifty
centimètres by thirty-four (equivalent to about
twenty inches by thirteen). There are the
thin sheets for cards, about fifty francs per
hundred; there is the crystal-paper for
perfumers and fleuristes, about twenty-five
francs per hundred sheets; there is the
papier glâcé, for designers and engravers,
forty francs per hundred; there is the
crystal-paper, with printed adornments in
gold, or silver, or colours, about a hundred
and twenty francs per hundred; there is the
varnish film, twenty francs; there is the
impermeable quality given to any of the
varieties, at twenty francs per hundred
additional. Lastly, our gelatineur gives a specimen
of the kind of productions which may
serve as shop-bills or address-cards; he
gives one of his own, about six inches by four,
printed in gold on thin crimson-coloured
gelatine sheets; and states that such productions
he can supply at five francs per hundred.

We are quite prepared to learn that these
prettinesses are made in London as prettily
as in Paris; but the great fat Post Office
Directory does not throw any light on this
matter. There is, it appears, another Frenchman
to whom precedence is given in this
interesting art. This is M. Grenet of Rouen.
Professor Owen, in the lecture before
adverted to, speaks of " the different kinds of
gelatine, in thin layers, adapted for the
dressing of stuffs, and for gelatinous baths,
in the clarification of wines which contain a
sufficient quantity of tannin to precipitate
the gelatine; pure and white gelatines cut
into threads for the use of the confectioner;
very thin white and transparent sheets of
papier glâcé, or ice-paper, for copying drawings;
and a quantity of objects of luxury or
ornament, formed of dyed, silvered, or gilt
gelatines, adapted to a variety of purposes,
and to the fabrication of artificial and fancy
flowers; " and he spoke of M. Grenet as
having been the first to fabricate largely,
out of various residues of animal bodies, of
little value, these beautiful and diversified
products, many of which previously were
derived from the more costly substance,
isinglass.

What is this isinglass here spoken of, and
one of the two sources or groups of gelatinous
substance mentioned in an earlier
paragraph ? There are many kinds of
isinglass, good and bad, but all are fishy—
whether " ancient and fishlike " we will not
say—but fishy certainly. The best isinglass,
it is said, is prepared in Russia, from the
membranes of the sturgeon, especially from
its air-bladder and sounds. These
membranes, when removed from the fish, are
washed with cold water, and exposed to dry
and stiffen in the open air. The outer skin
is removed, and the remainder is cut out and
loosely twisted into rolls. The rolls, called
staples, are of different sizes, according to the
purposes to which they are to be appropriated.
The substance is also brought to
market in two other forms—scrapings, called
leaf-isinglass, and packages, called book-
isinglass. We are more familiar with isinglass
in the state of slender filaments. These are
prepared through the intervention of cutting
machines. The purposes to which this
isinglass is applied are numerous—jellies, ices,
creams, blancmange are made with its aid;
beer is fined or refined with it; isinglass
glue, and diamond cement, are two
preparations of isinglass employed as adhesive
compositions. As man is naturally prone to
cheapness, and as isinglass is not always cheap,
a substitute is not unfrequently sought for; one
substitute is the cod-sound, which is brought
from Scotland in a dried state, and melted
into an inferior kind of isinglass. The
nutritive as well as the adhesive quality
of isinglass, of cod-sounds, of bones, of skins,
of tendons, of ligaments, of membranes, of
hoofs, of horns, of feet, result from the simple
fact that these substances can be done to a
jelly.

EXILED.

MY brighter hours, like pleasant dreams, have fled,
   And left me here an exile, and alone;
I hear no welcome sound of human tread,
   No voice except the echo of my own.
My life has pass'd its noon of sunny light,
   And entered twilight shades; my hopes are gone;
I watch'd them till they vanish'd from my sight,
   Like stars that fade, and mingle with the tints of dawn.

And this I know, that when on wood and wold
   The setting sun his bright embroidery weaves,
And when the latest of his darts of gold
   Is shivered on the brazen shield of leaves,
And, like kind visions at the step of night,
   Upon the thankless world the star-beams fall,
I know that all those mingled hues of light
   Are only Nature's paintings on my prison wall.

I roam at will on wooded hill and plain,
   Their leafy folds by gentlest breezes stirr'd;
But I would gladly give this wide domain
   To hear a single kindly-spoken word.
I count the waves,—they are my only friends;
   All day I watch them perish on the shore:
But I would lose the charm their music lends
   To see a form again that I have seen before.

Or in the wood I wait, when, with soft tread,
   The shades of twilight glide among the trees,
Stirring no leaf, like spirits of the dead.
   Whose only voice is in the midnight breeze;
When all the pomp and glory of the day,
   Like a bright palace, not composed of stone,
But built by spirits, has long sunk away,
   And darkness, its sole ruin, stays on earth alone.

A melancholy joy my bosom fills
   When the bright moon, with perfect calm endued,
Stands her full height upon the misty hills,
   Which are but pedestals for solitude,