Being in a tranquil mood the other evening, and indisposed for the rollicking fun and tomfoolery in which, we are glad to say, we have so often indulged, we called upon our friend Nix to pass a quiet hour or two. When we had explained the object of our visit, Nix replied that it was well, for although he could not entertain us himself in the character of host, he could introduce us to a family to whom he happened to be engaged himself that evening.

"They are," said he, "the most charming people in the world—all ladies, excepting a little pickle of a boy, a child after your own heart, by the way; not one of your impulsive, high-spirited humbugs, who does all sorts of vicious things for twelve hours, and is sorry for them for five minutes; not one of your easy penitents, who is never ashamed of owning himself in the wrong, and at the same time never too proud to do wrong; but a stubborn, sensitive, ingenuous, affectionate, fun-loving little fellow. Do you know I like people who, when they are mad, get sulky? I have found they make the best of friends, the best servants, and the best members of society generally. I wonder who started the admiration of impulsive people? 'Oh!' you hear a young lady say, who never really gave the subject five minutes' thought in her life, and is quite unconscious that she is repeating a hackneyed sentiment which has been knocking about the world for the last fifty years; 'oh!' you hear her say, 'I like quick-tempered people, who get into a passion and are over it in a minute.' Then you hear some one else: 'Oh, yes, he does wrong, but he is full of fine impulses!' For my part, I think these impulsive folks are the greatest humbugs in the world. In the first place, there is scarcely any villany which cannot be perpetrated in a moment, if you have only the necessary impulse; but then, to look into the origin of this impulsiveness, it arises altogether from a lack of self-control, a violent, self-indulgent spirit. Then, as to ready repentance and confession, that, to my mind, is the worst sign man, woman, or child can show; it simply shows they do not fully appreciate the seriousness of their offence, or are so devoid of pride that they do not care in what estimation they are held by others; or, as is often the case, it is a cheap way of squaring accounts and starting afresh, perhaps on better terms than before, with people who like impulsive characters. Bah! Confession and repentance ought to come out of a man with tears of blood, and——"

"But about the ladies?" we broke in. "Your dissertation on character is very good, but I think you made use of the adjective charming in connection with the noun ladies."

"Oh, yes," answered Nix, suddenly changing his manner, for he had grown quite fierce and enthusiastic in his tirade against impulsive persons. "The ladies—'that man who would lay his hand on a lady in aught save kindness, is unworthy the name of a British officer and a gentleman.'

"Arguments pro and con. But you said something about the ladies. Well, this family comprises a widow, three daughters, and little pickle aforementioned. These ladies, I may tell you, are not only ladies, but gentlewomen—a very, very rare article, I can assure you."

"True," we responded; "painfully true."

"These ladies have found out—no, there I am wrong; they never gave the subject a thought. But they are illustrations of the fact, though they are ignorant of it, for their good-breeding came to them partly by nature and partly by careful, motherly, Christian training. They are illustrations of the fact, that to be gentlewomen it is necessary to be gentle women."

"Women do not appear to be generally aware of that fact," we chimed in.

"These ladies, although full of intelligence and esprit, besides being highly educated and accomplished, could not, I believe, give a smart retort to—to—to save their eyes; and when you see their eyes you will be able to judge of the value of the stake. If any one were to make a rude or impertinent speech to them they would not understand him. As they never wound the feelings of others, they cannot imagine any one else doing so."

"But," said we, "there are certain forms of words which no one could possibly mistake—not even the simplest of human beings."

"Oh, of course, I don't refer to such cases as those! Under such circumstances, my friends would feel deeply grieved, and even rebuke the offender. But as to making one of those sharp retorts in which underbred young women so greatly delight, why, they could no more do it than fly!"

Fortunately, at this point in Nix's harangue, we reached the door of the ladies under discussion; for be it understood that most of our conversation had occurred on our way thither.

We doubt whether it is a good plan to praise one's friends too highly before an introduction; it is calculated to produce a reaction. At least, we felt just the least shade of disappointment on being ushered into the presence of the subject of our companion's eulogy. Four plainly-dressed, oval-faced, soft-eyed ladies, seated round a large centre-table, on which were strewn water-colors, albums, scissors, and scraps of paper.

"Mr. Nix has told us all so much about you," said the eldest, "that I feel as though we were old friends. My daughters are now enthusiastic on the subject of transparencies, and I've no doubt your ingenuity will enable them to solve many knotty points beyond their amateur capacity."

We soon found, however, that we were the one to learn, for the work on which the white fingers were engaged was something entirely new to us. There were beautiful transparencies, mostly representing landscapes, and cut out of writing-paper. We immediately became a devoted student of the art of transparent picture-making, with a single eye, of course, to the amusement of our readers. The soft, brown eyes, the taper fingers, and the gentle manners, had nothings to do with our assiduity, upon which we pledge our sacred honor, as a Calmuc Tartar.

We will now proceed to explain, if those white fingers do not get in the way, how these pictures are produced; and first, according to our custom, we refer the reader to the annexed diagram (No. 1)—a diagram is a good basis to start upon. Before you look at the diagram, it would be well to collect the necessary materials, which are as follows:

Several sheets of writing-paper.

One piece, say four inches square, of thick paper or card.

A pair of small fine-pointed scissors.

A sharp-pointed penknife.

A small piece of charcoal. Burnt grape-vine or cedar makes the best.

A piece of transparent tracing-paper. A black lead-pencil.

Pen and ink.

A thick pasteboard, or thin pine board, about the thickness of an ordinary book-cover, and at least two inches longer and wider than the picture you are about to make. A sheet of glass will answer as well, perhaps better.

A small quantity of thin, fine paste, free from lumps, made of flour and water boiled. Mind that it is boiled and free from lumps.

Now see the diagram No. 1. This is the picture you wish to produce in the transparency. Take your tracing-paper, and with a pen and ink make an outline of this picture, having done which, rub the charcoal over the back of the tracing, then lay the tracing-paper on a sheet of letter-paper, take your lead-pencil in your hand; now, every mark you make on the tracing-paper with the pencil will leave a corresponding charcoal mark on the paper beneath it. Bearing this in mind, you will draw your pencil carefully round the outline of the moon, the window of the old castle, and the bright light in the water. Now carefully remove the tracing-paper, and you will find the forms of these objects faintly marked in charcoal lines on the writing-paper. Now, with the fine point (it must have a fine point) of your lead-pencil, travel over the charcoal lines, so as to make them distinct and permanent. You do so because the charcoal easily brushes off. You will then proceed to brush off the charcoal with a soft rag as soon as you have made your pencil outline. You will now, with the scissors or penknife, whichever is most convenient for the purpose, cut out the parts you have traced—that is to say, a round hole for the moon, a small square patch for the castle window, and a few irregular slits for the water. Then you will have a piece of paper like diagram No. 2 (page 152).

There now, we think we managed to keep the white fingers out of that pretty well, though it was pretty hard work, rest assured. So far so good. Now you want to cut a piece of paper, which shall be your second tint, to represent the clouds and water. To this end you again lay your outline tracing on the white paper, and trace the shape of the clouds, the castle window, and the lights on the water, which will give you a form similar to that represented in diagram No. 3 (page 153). This you will cut out as before.

Now you wish for a tint to represent the distant mountains and the reflection of the old castle; therefore, trace and cut out as before directed a piece of paper corresponding with the outlines of these forms, which piece will correspond exactly with diagram No. 4 (page 154). Now you will cut out a piece of paper to represent the nearer mountains and the castle, which will correspond with diagram No. 5 (page 155). After which you will cut a piece to represent the castle alone; and lastly, you cut out of your card the form of the fir-tree and old railing in the foreground, and the chief part of your labor is done.

Again we must congratulate ourself on keeping those little fingers out of our description, though they have been playing about like white mice among our ideas all the time. We only trust we have made the process clear to our readers.

We will now presume you wish to mount your transparency on a sheet of glass. First take the piece of white paper corresponding with diagram No. 2, and cover it with a thin coat of paste, being careful that it is free from lumps, and lay it on the glass, pressing it evenly all over with a soft handkerchief. Over this, in its proper place, paste No. 3, over that No. 4, and so on, one over the other, till they are all on. You can now hold it up to the light to see if the reflected lights in the water are correct; if not, wait till the transparency is dry, and brighten them up by cutting the necessary pieces out with the sharp point of a penknife. All that needs doing now is to paste over all a thin sheet of white paper. This need only be pasted round the edges just enough to make it keep its place. To give the picture a finish, it should either be put in a frame or have a border of gilt paper or other untranslucent material pasted round it to conceal the ragged edges of the picture. Now your picture is complete. Hold it once more up to the light, and you will be surprised what a beautiful effect is produced.

If the transparency be not to be mounted in glass, the process is as follows: Cut a square hole, a trifle smaller than the picture, in the board you have provided; cut a piece of white paper of the same shape as the hole, only about one inch larger each way; moisten it slightly with a wet rag, then put some paste all round the edges of the paper, and paste it over the square hole in the board; keep the paper slightly moistened till the paste has thoroughly dried; then you can allow the paper to dry, when it will become smooth and tight like the head of a drum. On this you can paste the transparency in the same way you did on the glass.

Our young lady friends had a number of wonderful things produced in this way, into some of which they had introduced color with remarkable effect. In the design we have given as an example, being one of the simplest in their collection, the light in the castle window was red, and threw long rays of red light across the rocks, with a red reflection in the water. This was easily done with a little water-color (crimson lake); but we refrained from introducing it into our description, for fear of complicating the matter and puzzling the reader. However, when you have made the one we have described, you will soon see a number of other effects which can be produced—sunsets with a moving sun, rain-storms, floating clouds; skies and water painted blue, and trees green, etc., etc.

Little Pickle did not take any active part in the transparency business, though he looked on admiringly, occasionally throwing in a few words of applause or advice, something in this style:

"Oh! I say, Lucy, couldn't you put a cow in there; it would look fust-rate. I can draw a cow, all but the feet, and you can hide them behind the rocks, you know."

Or:

"Yes—ah—yes—that snow is pretty good, only that feller has only got one runner to his sled!"

It is strange that boys will always say feller and fust-rate.

Little Pickle was not, however, idle in his way. While we were studying white fingers, brown eyes, and transparencies, he had cut out a sled, a wheel-barrow, and manufactured a dancing-pea. The latter he made by running a pin half way through a pea, one end of which he stuck into a broken piece of tobacco-pipe. He then threw his head back till the tobacco-pipe attained a perpendicular position, when he commenced blowing, which made the pea dance in the air in the most amusing manner for nearly a minute. The mode of arranging the pea, as well as of using it, is illustrated in the accompanying sketch.