Now she got up and went to the fire, rubbing her cold hands together, looking at an awakened world with dull, lack-lustre eyes.

If you look back on your own education, I am sure it will not be the full, vivid, instructive hours of truantry that you regret; you would rather cancel some lack-lustre periods between sleep and waking in the class.

Make then thine inborn lustre beam and shine With love of goodness; goodness cannot fail: From God alone let praise immense be thine.

The other shatters like a lustre punch bowl.

When all thy lov'd creation wakes, When morning, rich in lustre breaks, And bathes in dew the op'ning flower, To thee we owe her fragrant hour; And when she pours her choral song, Her melodies to thee belong!

And, as she steps, the living lustre burns.

As Rip and his companion approached them, they suddenly desisted from their play, and stared at him with such, fixed, statue-like gaze, and such strange, uncouth, lack-lustre countenances, that his heart turned within him, and his knees smote together.

Small sympathy and smaller joy is there in it nowit wears only a lantern-jawed, lack-lustre despondency.

Number One.'" XVIII ORDEAL Reviewing the day, as she undressed and prepared for bed, Sofia told herself she had never yet lived through one so wearing, and thought the history of its irksome hours all too legible in the lack-lustre face that looked back from the mirror when Chou Nu uncoifed her hair and brushed its burnished tresses.

Mr. PUNCHINELLO: It afflicts me, one of your most assiduous readers, to notice that you cast not even so much as a lack-lustre glance at the brilliant gems that STEPHEN PEARL ANDREWS scatters periodically through the columns of the Evening Mail and WOODHULL & CLAFLIN'S Weekly.

Again the happy morn appears; And nature, clothed in beauty, wears Her wonted colours; and the rose In all its pride of lustre glows; Emblem of frail mortality!

Hints of an unbounded fancy, playing gracefully in the excess of its strength, with the vastest images, as in that robe of the Scottish Muse, in which Deep lights and shades, bold mingling, threw A lustre grand, And seem'd to my astonished view A well-known land.

Far in the bosom of the deep, O'er these wild shelves my watch I keep; A ruddy gem of changeful light, Bound on the dusky brow of night; The seaman bids my lustre hail, And scorns to strike his timorous sail.

Thus in all ages virtue hath been adored, admired, a singular lustre hath proceeded from it: and the more virtuous he is, the more gracious, the more admired.

Rich with auspicious lustre rife, Thou fairest regent of the skies, Conspicuous with thy silver bow!

40 In weakness safe, the sex I see With idle lustre shine; For what are all their joys to me, Which cannot now be mine?

Seldom are even the great writers of the following period quite free from the danger of a lack-lustre style in their treatment of the language, above all in narrative composition.

The dominant silver gleams in it barely sparkled, crawling with lack-lustre tones of dead zinc against the edges of the hard, tarnished shell.

Ida crossed the hall in the sunlight, which lit up her beauty and made it seem a more striking contrast than usual to the dull and grim surroundings of the dark oak, the faded hangings and the lack-lustre armour, and Donald and Bess bounded, barking, before her down the terrace at which Jason was holding the big chestnut.

Moreover, she was clad all in white samite from top to toe and her garments were embroidered with silver; and the trappings and garniture of her horse were of white samite studded with bright silver bosses, wherefore, because of this silver, she glistered with a sudden lustre whensoever she moved a little.

She had the soft, lack-lustre beauty of the South; no ruddiness of coral, no waxen white, no pink of shell; no heavenly blue in the glance; but a face that seemed, in all its other beauties, only a tender accompaniment for the large, brown, melting eyes, where the openness of child-nature mingled dreamily with the sweet mysteries of maiden thought.

o'er thy empurpled zone With lavish charms perennial summer strays; Soft 'midst thy spicy groves the zephyr plays, While far around the rich perfumes are thrown: The amadavid bird for thee alone Spreads his gay plumes, that catch thy vivid rays, For thee the gems with liquid lustre blaze, And Nature's various wealth is all thy own.