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26, 1861.] to my unpractised eye, looked more attractive than some that were accepted. I remember especially one that represented a little vase of flowers, most exquisite in itself. Beguiled by the beauty of this design, the manufacturers had gone so far as to have it engraved and printed, and still it would not do. There was a slight want of balance in the group of flowers, which, when they were regularly repeated, and seen from a little distance as a whole, gave them the appearance of slanting not quite diagonally; and this, the exhibitor said, had in a dress the effect of making the figure look crooked. In the same manner we have all, no doubt, detected in the papering of a room some one-sided cast of this kind in flowers, leaves, or any other figures, making the paper look as if not placed straight upon the wall, or making even the wall itself appear slanting, so that the eye becomes continually puzzled, and painfully occupied in tracing out lines which have no agreement either with the horizontal or the perpendicular.

Anxious to come at some rule or principle of art which might guide the beginner, I inquired what was the first thing to be observed in drawing patterns for fabrics to be worn as dresses. I was answered, “To avoid the last year’s fashions;” and it struck me that this simple advice embodied a principle well worth remembering, its application being by no means confined to the subject under consideration.

The prices paid for accepted patterns varied so much, and my inquiries were made so many years ago, that it might mislead more than assist others, were I to repeat all that was told me on this occasion. I know, however, that more than one lucky little pattern was shown me, in size not covering more space than a crown piece, for which seven shillings would be given. But then those bulky volumes of rejected patterns still stared me in the face, many of them rejected for no earthly reason that I could understand. I was told, too, on the same occasion—only the “long, long ago,” must be taken into account—that the principal designer of patterns for the Manchester houses was at that time receiving a salary for his work of not less than £300 per annum, and that scarcely any female skill—I think that of only one lady in England—was then engaged in this most agreeable and interesting occupation.

It is impossible, if we look around us with observant eyes, not to discover for ourselves certain facts or truths of essential service to the designer of patterns; such, for example, as that a large strong bold pattern has the effect upon the eye of coming near, and a small dim pattern of retreating. We see this in the papering of rooms, for how painful is the sensation of being in a small room, the walls of which are covered with a pattern that seems to make them come near, and almost close upon us, like the iron tomb which grew less and less every night, though by almost imperceptible degrees.

Again, architectural patterns should never be made to float. Nothing can look more absurd than figures representing the solid structure of massive walls, when the texture on which they are displayed is one which necessarily wraps itself into folds, or is generally in motion, as in the case of a lady’s dress.

Depth, too, is another important consideration, as well as aërial effect. There are very few patterns in which we require what painters call depth, and all attempts to reach this point, so desirable in a picture, had better be let alone, where the fact of a surface being level constitutes its merit. Such depth as gives the appearance of work slightly raised, as in the diaper patterns of the Alhambra in the Crystal Palace, may be always appropriate, but beyond this the effect must generally be doubtful, and often worse than that.

In the same way aerial effect producing an appearance of distance must be highly objectionable, where the fabric is of such a nature that it would be a demerit if we could see through it. Hence in all carpets this effect should be scrupulously avoided. We want to stand upon our carpets, not to slip through them. And yet some of those exquisite fabrics produced by the looms of the Messrs. Crosby have exactly this design successfully carried out—an appearance of soft atmospheric distance, alternating with the richest groups of scrolls and flowers. On a wall this effect would be more appropriate, but in the flooring of a room these alternations of depth and air convey a certain feeling that we shall stumble into holes in the dark places, and slip through in the light; thus destroying the sensation of repose and serenity, which are chiefly wanted in a foundation, in order that it may be comfortably relied upon.

It is possible that in the furnishing of our rooms generally we make too much the mistake of producing excitement rather than repose; but as this consideration of the subject would lead us up to painted ceilings, and so far away from women’s work, considered in a remunerative point of view, we must descend again to those more simple questions of relation and fitness, by observing which, such work can alone be successfully pursued. S. S.

Norse gods (As, pl. Æsir, gen. pl. Asa) dwelt in As-garth, a high burg in the midst of the earth; round them lived the race of men in Manheim, or Manhome. All round Manheim rolled the great sea, and beyond that sea, and below the earth, was Iötunheim, Etinhome, Ogreland, the abode of the huge Giants of Frost and Snow, who were at perpetual feud with gods and men, and ever watchful to do them mischief. One of the chiefest and hugest of these giants was Thrym, who, while Thorr was asleep, contrived to steal his hammer; this was a dreadful loss to gods and men, for Thorr’s hammer was the main defence of As-garth and Manheim, and without it he was unable to crack the skulls of the Ogres who were ever ready to make an onslaught on the Æsir. The Song of the Edda, which is here laid before the reader in a translation very nearly literal, is one of the oldest in that venerable collection. It belongs to the grey dawn of Norse Mythology, and the latest date that can be assigned to it is the eighth century of our era. It may well be, and probably is, much earlier. The alliterative rhythm of the original has been adhered to. This kind of verse was slowly and solemnly sung or chanted to some rude instrument, and in reading it, care should be taken that the