The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 10, No. 287, December 15, 1827

The usual mode of ornamenting ivory in black, is to engrave the pattern or design, and to fill up the cavities thus produced with hard black varnish. Mr. Cathery has much improved and simplified the process, by covering the ivory with engraver's varnish, and drawing the design with an etching needle; he then pours on a menstruum, composed of 120 grains of fine silver, dissolved in an ounce measure of nitric acid, and diluted with one quart of pure distilled water. After half an hour, more or less, according to the required depth of tint, the liquor is to be poured off, and the surface is to be washed with distilled water, and dried with blotting paper. It is then to be exposed to the light for an hour, after, which the varnish may be removed by oil of turpentine. The design will now appear permanently impressed on the ivory, and of a black or blackish brown colour, which will come to its full tint after exposure for a day or two to the light. Varieties of colour may be given by substituting the salt of gold, platina, copper, &c. for the solution of silver.—Trans. of the Society of Arts.

Geology

Among the fossil bones lately dug from under the lava of the mountain of Boulade, in the neighbourhood of Issoire, in France, none have been discovered belonging to the human body. The same is the case in the other mountains of the vicinity. But, although there are no human bones, in several places, and especially in the mountain of Boutaresa, (which is not far from the mountain of Boulade,) pieces of wood have been discovered, buried under the ancient lava, which observers worthy of credit declare seem to have been fashioned by the hand of man, and to have been cut with a hatchet, although rudely, and as might be expected in the infancy of the arts. Did man exist then, at that remote period when elephants, lions, and tapirs, lived in Europe, with rein-deer and bears? This is an exceedingly difficult question, and one which hitherto does not, by any means, appear to have been satisfactorily resolved.—New Monthly Magazine.

THE MONTHS

DECEMBER

The characteristics of November, for the most part, extend through the present month. Wind, rain, and gloom are its attributes; the sun

Scarce spreads through ether the dejected day,
Faint are his gleams, and ineffectual shoot
His struggling rays, in horizontal lines,
Through the thick air; as clothed in cloudy storm,
Weak, wan, and broad, he skirts the southern sky;
And soon descending, to the long dark night.
Wide-shading all, the prostrate world resigns.

Such is the gloomy picture of December, as drawn by the poet of the year.

To the contemplatist, and the man who has

—–No enemy,
But winter and rough weather,

the rural walk at this season is equally inviting with any of its predecessors; whilst he who can "suck melancholy from a song," will find melody in its storms and music in its wind. What are more beautiful than the fretwork frostings of rime and hoar spread on the hedges, glistening in the broad sun-beam, and in brilliancy and variety of colours vying with the richest display of oriental splendour—with here and there berries clustering on evergreens, or pendent in solitary beauty, like the "rich jewel in the Aethiop's ear." The winter stillness of animal life is a sublime subject for our meditation. Insects which floated on the gay sunshine of summer and autumn have now retired to their winter quarters, there to remain dormant till regenerated in the enlivening warmth of spring; and even the labours of husbandry are in a state of torpidity.

Within the circuit of gardens and shrubberies Nature, however, reserves the evergreen pride of firs and pines; and even flowers are left to gladden the eye of the winter observer; and the rose, that sweet emblem of our fragile and transitory state, will live and prosper during this month. In the forest, the oak, beech, and hornbeam in part retain their leaves; there, too, is the endless variety of mosses, and lichens, and ivy, spreading and clinging round aged trunks, as if to protect them with their fond warmth, or mantling over the neglected labours of human art, and mocking their proud import.

At this season, too, the social economy of man is wont to ripen into mirth; and in olden time, winter was the summer of hospitality, when the sunshine of Christmas shed its holy light on the hearts and faces of young and old. What the present generation have gained in head, they have lost in heart, and Christmas is almost the only surviving holiday of the calendar. But now, alas! "we live too late in time."

If knowledge be valuable only in the proportion in which it conduces to our happiness, then we have cause to deplore the loss of the wassail-bowl, the sports and wrestlings of the town green, the evening tales, and the elegant pastimes of masque, song, and dance, of our ancestors, which the taste of our times has narrowed into a commercial channel, or pared down to a few formal visits and their insipid returns; and friends, families, and fortunes are often sacrificed in this exchange.

But there are minds so attuned as not to be shut out from

"The gayest, happiest attitudes of things,"

nor to allow their social blaze to be darkened by such narrow conceits; and for a picture of this portion of mankind, we quote Mr. Bucke's Harmonies:—

"Awed by the progress of time, winter, ushered into existence by the howling of storms, and the rushing of impetuous torrents, and contemplating, with the satisfaction of a giant, the ruins of the year, still affords ample food for enjoyments, which the vulgar never dream of, if sympathy and association diffuse their attractive spells around us! In the bosom of retirement, how delightful is it to feel exempt from the mean intrigues, the endless difficulties and tumults, which active life ensures, and which retirement enables us so well to contemplate through the telescope of recollection. When seated by the cheerful fire among friends, loving and beloved, our hopes, our wishes, and our pleasures are concentrated; the soul seems imparadised in an enchanted circle; and the world, vain, idle, and offensive as it is, presents nothing to the judgment, and little to the imagination, that can induce the enlightened or the good to regret, that the knowledge they possess of it is chiefly from the report of others, or from the tumultuous murmur, which from a distance invades the tranquillity of their retreat, and operates as a discord in a soft sonata. These are the moments which affect us more than all the harmony of Italy, or all the melody of Scotland—moments, in which we appear almost to emulate the gods in happiness."

"Change," in the quaint language of Feltham, "is the great lord of the universe, and Time is the agent which brings all things under his dominion." This has been demonstrated through our past calendar of monthly characteristics; to which are subjoined, from a still more quaint authority than Feltham, said to be printed in the reign of Henry VII., in a Sarum black-letter missal:

THE MONTHS MORALIZED

(From our Correspondent, M.L.B.)

Januarius

The fyrst six yeres of mannesbyrth and aege
May well be compared to Janyere,
For in this moneth, is no strengeth nor courage
More than in a chylde of the aege of six yere.

Februarius

The other six yeres is like February,
In the end thereof beguyneth (1) the Sprynge,
That tyme chyldren is moost asst and redy
To receyve chastysement, nurture and lernynge.

Martinus

March betokeneth the six yeres followynge,
Arayeng the erthe with pleasaunt verdure;
That season youth thought for nothynge,
And wothout thought dooth his sporte and pleasure.

Aprilis

The next six yere maketh four-and-twenty,
And figured is to jolly Aprill
That tyme of pleasures man hath most plenty
Fresh, and louying (2) his lustes tofulfyll.

Maius

As in the moneth of Maye all thing in mygth (3)
So at thirty yeres man is in chief lyking,
Pleasaunt and lustie to every mannes sygth, (4)
In beauti and strengthe to women pleasynge.

Junius

In June, all thyns falleth to rypenesse,
And so dooth man at Ihirty-six yere old,
And studyetli for to acquyre rychesse.
And taketh a wyfe, to keepe his householde.

Julius

At forty yere of aege, or elles never
Is ony man endewed with wysdome
For than forgth (5) his mygth fayleth ever
As in July doth every blossome.

Augustus