alty about to be inflicted upon her grace- "Charlemagne's Daughter," "Nickar the less nephew, Randal. The offence com- Soulless," and the "Fifteen Days of Judgmitted by the youth consisted in fishing for ment." In these the style of old monkish pike, after a peculiar fashion recommended legends is cleverly imitated; the most amby Dame Juliana Berners. A gudgeon is bitious, the "Fifteen Days of Judgment," fastened to the leg of a gander, which is then is also the least satisfactory. "Charlethrown into the lake, near the haunt of the magne's Daughter" though resembling much pike. The latter swallows the bait, where- too closely for accident the St. Agnes' Eve upon a combat ensues between the pike and of Keats, is, on the whole, the best, and rises the gander, very similar to that which, in at times to a considerable poetical elevation. modern days, we have witnessed in barbar-"The Charm" is very cleverly written, ous districts, when a duck, with an owl and embodies many forms of old superstifastened on its back, is thrown into water. tion::The whole of this opening poem is written with much humour. The following verses describe the fight which Randal, half wild with delight, surveys from the shore: When at Easter on thy lea Goodman, turn thy money! tells a quaint and very pleasing story. We can quote a few stanzas only: Where by the marishes Boometh the bittern, Nickar the soulless one Sits with the ghittern Sits inconsolable, Friendless and foeless, Wailing his destiny Nickar the Soulless. "Mine, O to make her mine! Child of the Faeries; "Kirtled right maidenly, "Came for a morning bath, Lovely and lonely, These extracts will enable the reader to judge of the music of Mr. Evans' versification, and of the nature of the subjects he has selected. We have chosen them for their beauty alone, and have not endeavoured by quotation to fortify the opinion we have expressed as to the faults and slovenliness of which he has been guilty. We believe that the faults we find in this volume, though numerous, are all remediable; and we see in what Mr. Evans has already done ample ground for hope and encouragement to future effort. Mr. Capern, the rural postman of Bideford, has already made himself a name among our minor minstrels, and everything from his pen we receive with pleasure. Among our rural poets, our Bloomfields and Clares, he is entitled to a foremost rank, and there is a lyrical grace in his verses to which none of his compeers have attained. His last volume is divided into two portions, whereof the former is composed of lyrics on various subjects, while the latter, entitled "Willow Leaves," consists of poems having a common centre of interest in a domestic calamity which is the theme of them all. In the foremost portion, "Why so jealous grown," and "The Missing Star," are our The lines which follow are worthy of favourites. The former has been suggested Wither or Herrick : Scrape it, fiddlers! foot it, dancers! by a song of Sir H. Wotton. From the "Willow Leaves" we quote the following short and melancholy poem, entitled "Under the Snow": Sweet little loving thing, low, low, low, Down in the cold, cold grave she lies; Deep 'neath the daisy-knoll under the snow, Silenced for ever her carols and cries. Sweet little Dimpled chin, how she would | vient to the comforts of man, than to frame dance! Dear little Laughing eyes, how she would smile! The "Wild Garland" is a collection of whimsical verses, rebuses, epigrams, inscriptions, &c. It has an introduction and notes by Mr. Reeve. Our language is not particularly rich in this description of literature. Épigram has never been so important a weapon of ridicule in England as, since the time of the Mazarinades, it has been in France, and we possess only single specimens of those Macaronic verses which in Italy constitute almost a literature. Many curious trifles are, however, preserved in this volume. Mr. Reeve, quoting the wellknown verse containing the rhyme to Ipecacuanha, ascribes it, we fancy erroneously, to Canning. He does not, moreover, seem to be aware of the existence of more than one verse, whereas the poem consists of four. J. K. From the London Review. ENGRAVING WITH A SUNBEAM. THIS is assuredly the age of scientific wonders. If in point of philosophic abstraction our generation is somewhat inferior to preceding ones, in all that concerns the practical application of theories it is far in advance of its predecessors. Our modern savants are of the utilitarian school, and they seek rather to discover the mode in which scientific speculations may be made subser generalizations which have only an abstract importance. How far this condition is to be admired, we do not pretend to say. The contemplation of Nature's works and the search for the laws by which she controls the universe, are pursuits of the sublimest type; but in these days the man who is completely absorbed by them is often - as one who does looked on as a dreamer not take his rank in the race of life. Whether it be that Transatlantic tendencies have taken possession of us or not it is difficult to determine, but one thing is certain-we of the nineteenth century pride ourselves above all things upon being "practical men." Need we adduce proofs that the utile is the fetish of the age? Can we not flash our thoughts with the rapidity of lightning to the remotest portions of the globe? nay, can we not even cause them to be written down in enduring letters by Casselli's recording telegraph? Have we not turned the spectroscope towards the sun and stars, and investigated their chemical constitution? Do not our microscopes, in fulfilling the highest anticipations of optical theorists, enable us almost to penetrate into the molecular condition of matter? Can we not with the most rigid accuracy forecast the hurricane, explore the bowels of the earth, and examine the very recesses of the human frame? These surely are sufficient examples of the practical science of to-day. There is, however, another instance which, from its familiarity and the infinity of its possible applications, is better testimony to what we have said than any of the foregoing - we allude to the art of sun-painting. Photography, which is the application of a very simple chemical principle, has done, and promises to do, more for man than any other invention save that of the steam-engine. Already it has lent its aid to the painter, the sculptor, the philosopher; but it now extends its sphere of usefulness, and gives a helping hand to "the arts," properly so called. By M. Williême's curious apparatus, photography has been made to do the greater portion of the work formerly achieved by the sculptor's chisel. Through the exertions of Mr. Brooke, it has been made the handmaid of meteorology — the records of the various indications of scientific instruments being now intrusted to this "genius of the lamp." It is wonderful to think that, through the long hours of the night, when the whole world is at rest, photography takes the place of human labor, and moment by moment writes down a history of the natural phenomena which are taking place around us; yet this is no freak of the imagination. In the Royal Observatory at Greenwich the night assistants have been, in a great measure, done away with, and the unerring pen of photography records, in legible and truthful symbols, the operations of the physical universe. The combination of lithography and sunpainting is another important illustration of what photography has done. Photo-lithography is undoubtedly a most useful application of the art, but its field of action is a limited one. When a picture in black and white alone is required, the process of photo-lithography is admirably adapted to the cheap reproduction of the original representation. But when it is necessary to preserve a variety of gradations of shading when a number of half-tints have to be delineated the photo-lithograph cannot be employed. One of the most valuable qualities which photography possesses is its precision. By it we get an undeniably faithful picture of the object portrayed, and one whose accuracy can never be called in question. Therefore in all pictorial illustrations which are not merely works of the imagination, photography surpasses the pencil in truthfulness, and would necessarily be universally employed were it not for the time and expense attending the production of copies on a large scale. To illustrate cheap works by photography alone, would necessitate an expenditure which no experienced publisher would dream of. This difficulty of reproduction, then, has hitherto trammelled the application of photography to literary purposes. We say hitherto, for a new invention removes all obstacles, and henceforth we hope to see the reliable labours of the photographer substituted for the less assuring results of the pencil and the gravingtool. The title of our article is by no means figurative. We can now dispense with the engraver, and employ the sunbeam in his stead. The new process by which this revolution is to be effected is that of Mr. Walter Woodbury, and has been recently described in the scientific journals. As it is not a complex one, we shall try and convey an idea of its general features. In taking an ordinary photograph, a solution of silver is placed upon glass, and has projected on it, through the medium of a camera obscura, an image of some object which it is desired to represent. This image consists of several combinations of light and shade, and, as the effect of light is to darken the silver solution by decomposing it, the lightestshades (those most illuminated) are represented on the glass plate by dark portions, and the dark shades, being less decomposed, are fainter. In this case, the object photographed has been represented by lights and shades. There are, however, certain combinations other than those of silver, which are differently affected by light. Now, a compound of gelatine and bichromate of ammonia is one of these. When this is exposed to the action of light, it becomes perfectly insoluble; so that when a photograph taken with it is placed in hot water, the parts which were least exposed are disolved away, and those submitted to the light remain, thus leaving a representation in relief. Upon this quality of bichromatized gelatine depends the principal feature in the new process. In the first instance, a negative (that is, a photograph of a special kind on glass) is taken of the picture or object of which it is wished to obtain an engraving, and this is placed over a plate of talc, bearing a stratum of the prepared gelatine, and in this position exposed to the light. The sun's rays, in passing through the negative, fall upon the gelatine, with various intensity, hardening the parts least covered, and leaving those parts unaltered which are completely protected by the shadows of the negative. After sufficient exposure, the gelatine plate is removed, and placed in hot water, which dissolves away all those parts unacted on by the sun, leaves those completely exposed intact, and partially removes the portions of the plate which were slightly protected. When, therefore, the gelatine plate, with its support of talc, is removed from the water, it presents a series of elevations and depressions which exactly correspond in extent and height to the lights and shades of the picture. It is in fact an intaglio plate in gelatine, but one which, as its depressions correspond to the light portions of the picture, cannot be used for engraving. A cast must be taken; and this is effected either by metallic deposition, as in electrotyping, or by pressing the hardest gelatine plate into one of soft lead. The latter method is the one which Mr. Woodbury employs, and although it seems hard to believe, it is unquestionably the fact that by pressure alone a perfect impression of the gelatine is produced on type-metal. The next stage in the process is that of printing. An intaglio block, i. e., one in which the depressions are to be filled with ink and the surface to be left clean, has been produced, but it remains to be shown how it is used. If it were simply coated with or dinary printing ink the "proof" would even the most delicate half-tints are exquibe as devoid of half-tones as the worst sitely brought out. Indeed, the result is photo-lithograph, and therefore a peculiar somewhat similar to that of "washing" in ink, suggested many years ago by Mr. Gau- water-colour painting, the greatest quandin, is employed. This ink consists of gel- tity of colour producing the greatest shade, atine holding colouring matter, of whatever and conversely-every tint in the gradahue is desired, in solution; it is a translu- tion being preserved. cent preparation and is not densely coloured. This compound is poured into the intaglio mould-for a mould it really is and the latter is pressed down upon the paper which is to receive the print. The ink, which has become semi-solid, falls from the depressions in the block somewhat in the manner of jelly from a jelly-mould, and soaks into the paper. In this way the deepest depressions, corresponding to the darkest shades, throw down the greatest number of layers of ink, and the shallowest ones the least; so that a picture is produced in which The inventor of the exceedingly ingenious method we have described considers that one man at work with four " presses could produce as many as one hundred and twenty prints per hour, and at a cost which would be very trifling. If in practice Mr. Woodbury's process turns out as successful results as those we have already seen, we have no doubt of its coming into general use. At present we can only testify to the beauty and perfection of the specimens we have inspected. |