in a kiln, and glazed—making its final
appearance as an ornamental highly-glazed
brown and yellow tile, which may be
combined with its brother tiles in the formation
of a pavement. The tact required in this
art is, to select such materials that the liquid
clay shall shrink in drying just as much as
the stiffer clay, and no more: this is essential
to the production of a sound and level surface.
The third or dry method is a very remarkable
one. When flint and fine clay are reduced to
powder and thoroughly mixed, they may be
brought into a solid form by intense pressure,
without any softening or liquefying process.
The ground materials are mixed with the
requisite colouring substances—black, red,
blue, yellow, green, and so forth—and are
then forced into small steel moulds with such
enormous force as to reduce the powder to
one-fourth of its former bulk. Thus is
produced an intensely hard and durable solid
cube—or it may have a triangular or a
hexagonal or a rhomboidal surface. Having
thus provided himself with an army of
tesselæ, little bits, the maker unites them
into a slab by a substratum of cement, and
lays this slab upon any prepared foundation.

GRAINS OF GOLD.

Far away there glide along
Streams with, ceaseless murmuring song,
Glistening, as ocean-ward they run,
Their golden net-work in the sun.
For, from secret caves of earth,                                                                 In the mountains of their birth                                                                       Golden sand they bear away:                                                                     And I dreamed the other day
That each atom was endowed                                                               With a voice distinct and loud,                                                               That they sang as on they roll'd                                                                     Of the future fate of Gold.

Thus sang one: "I shall be seen                                                                In the crown of some great queen,                                                              And shall sometimes condescend                                                                 To the shouting crowd to bend.
Yet the circlet's leaden weight,
In the midst of pomp and state,                                                                   Shall, with an incessant pain,
Press upon the wearer's brain.
Prisoned in its golden cage,
The brow shall furrowed seem with age.

Sang another: "I shall gleam
In a bracelet's dazzling beam;
And its form shall be a spray,                                                                 Roses set with rubies gay;
And the bracelet's golden twist
Shall encircle beauty's wrist,
While, beneath her pulse shall measure                                             Seconds of a life of pleasure."

Sang another: "I shall shine
In a slender golden twine;
And a woman, thin and spare,
Shall embroider flowers fair
In a costly robe of state.
Yet that woman, desolate,
Has not seen a blossom wild
Since she was a prattling child;
But, with little pay or praise,
She has measured out the days
Of her life, so cheaply sold,
With the slender threads of gold."

Sang another: "I shall aid—
In the pummel of a blade,
Wielded by some valiant knight—
To win the well-contested fight;
Nor rest until the weapon's hilt
Blushes with blood of foeman spilt."

Sang another: "In the case
Of a watch shall be my place,
And its voice shall whisper low
Of the minutes as they go.
   In the portly sheriffs hand
Scanning the hour with moisten'd eye,
   I shall time his loud command:
'Bring the felon forth—to die!
For the culprit's time is told
By the sheriffs watch of gold."

Sang another: "I shall shine
In the wedding-ring; the sign
That shall bind two hearts together,
To be fondly linked for ever."
Sang another: "I shall rest
On an aching human breast
In a locket; and, below,
A single silky auburn tress,
Shall the life-tide ebb and flow,
Of a heart dead to happiness."

Sang another: "They will mould
Me into a coin of gold.
Bartered oft for happiness,
Bartered oft for deep distress,
Buying joy and buying grief.
Surely money is the chief
Of the uses manifold
That mankind can make of gold."

Sang the last one: "As a pen
In the hands of mighty men
I shall rouse the world to wonder,
Keen as lightning, loud as thunder.
If the sword can win and keep,
'Tis the pen can rouse from sleep
Dormant spirits of a nation
To freedom and emancipation.

  Emblem of pomp, of pledges broken;
Trinket, sword, or marriage token,
Ye are metal vainly spent
Beside the pen omnipotent!

GORE HOUSE.

The vicissitudes in the occupation of houses
are curious. The first tenant we meet with in
Gore House, Kensington, (we forget his name)
is a Government contractor, who was so stingy
that he would not lay out a penny to keep his
garden in order. To him succeeded Mr.
Wilberforce, famous in the annals of
evangelism and the slave trade. The next
distinguished name is Lady Blessington. Then
comes Monsieur Soyer, who turns the place
into an eating-house for All Nations during
the Great Exhibition; and now it has been
bought by Government, in connexion with
the new views for the cultivation of art.