The colour of a fine turquoise has not escaped the notice of enamellers and potters. For centuries, an imitation of its characteristic and lovely blue has been applied among other colours to the exquisitely decorated pottery of Persia. On the most expensive and perhaps also the most beautiful of all porcelain, the Sèvres ware of soft body made in the latter half of last century, the turquoise blue is often a conspicuous colour. Towards the end of the century, when the directors of the far-famed _fabrique_ changed the character of the china to that of a hard paste or body, its decoration with a turquoise colour was no longer possible. But modern English porcelain, like the old Sèvres, is of soft paste; and one of the feats on which our great Staffordshire potters pride themselves is the successful production upon it, in recent years, of a soft and clear turquoise blue. THE HAUNTED JUNGLE. IN THREE CHAPTERS. CHAP. III.—THE BREAKING OF THE SPELL. When the day dawned, it found the púsári still in the temple offering prayers and supplications to the god for deliverance from the spell he was under. As soon as it was sufficiently light for him to see his way, he left the temple and went down into the village. A hope had risen in his breast that his prayers may have been answered, and he was anxious to ascertain whether he was still invisible. The hope was soon dispelled. As he passed the door of a hut, an old man came out yawning and stretching his arms, and though the púsári stood right before him, took no notice of him. Filled with despair, the púsári went to his own house and sat in the porch, a prey to the gloomiest, most miserable thoughts. He occupied himself in watching Vallee. The overwhelming grief and agitation of the preceding day had passed off, leaving her listless, unhappy, and restless. She was trying to attend to her household duties; but her thoughts were elsewhere, for she sighed frequently and her eyes filled with tears very often. Every now and then, she went to the door and glanced out. On one such occasion she uttered an exclamation of surprise. On looking out, the púsári saw several men and women whom he recognised as some of his relatives, who lived in a village at some distance, coming towards him. On entering the house, one or two of the new-comers saluted Vallee curtly and coldly, but the rest took no notice of her. Abashed and pained by their conduct, Vallee retired to a corner and waited to see what they had come for. They made themselves quite at home at once. It was soon evident they had heard of the púsári’s disappearance, and were come to see about his property, being persuaded he would never come back. After a while, they began to examine the house and to make a sort of rough inventory of what it contained. ‘What are you doing, uncle?’ asked Vallee of one of them, a thin, ferrety-faced man, who was her father’s brother.