REAPPEARANCE OF THE FUR-SEAL'S TOOTH.
"What do you know about this thing?" asked the Judge of Jalap Coombs,
taking the fur-seal's tooth from him and examining it curiously.
"I know that there were an old Eskimo at St. Michaels what were shipped
by Goldollar to go with us to Nulato as dog-driver. He wore this bit of
ivory hung about his neck, and seemed to set a heap by it. One time when
he were looking at it I heerd Goldollar say that by rights it belonged
to him, seeing as he got it from some natyve, and it were afterwards
stole from him. He didn't say nothing to the Husky about it, but when we
got to Nulato he give him so much liquor that in the morning the old
chap couldn't be woke up. Goldollar fooled round him a while, and then
saying he'd have to give up the job of waking him, left him, and ordered
the teams to pull out. I afterwards seen Goldollar take that very
identical tooth outen his pocket several times and look at it like it
were a diamond or some sich, and heerd him tell Strengel that any man as
owned it would surely have luck. It didn't seem to bring him none,
though. Leastways no good luck, for he hain't had nothing but bad luck
sence."
"Was it your impression that you could win good luck by stealing this
tooth?" inquired the Judge of Strengel.
"I didn't steal it," answered the prisoner, sullenly.
"How did you get it, then?"
"Goldollar give it to me."
"Where did you leave Goldollar?"
"At Fort Yukon."
"Was he in good health when you last saw him?"
"I refuse to answer any more questions," replied the prisoner, realizing
how deeply he was committing himself.
"Very well," said the Judge. "I think you have already told enough to
give us a pretty fair idea of the particular kind of a scoundrel you
are. So, if you have nothing more to say, I declare this case closed and
in the hands of the jury. Gentlemen, the court awaits your verdict."
As there was no room to which the jury could retire they put their heads
together and consulted in whispers, during which time Phil told the
Judge what he knew about the fur-seal's tooth, together with the legend
of good and bad luck supposed to accompany its possession. The
spectators of the trial buzzed like a swarm of angry hornets.
In a few minutes the jury ended their conference and resumed their
places. Then, as order was restored, the foreman, standing up, announced
that they were unanimous in finding the prisoner guilty on all three of
the charges preferred against him, and recommended that he be so
punished as to afford a warning to others of his kind who might be
contemplating a visit to the Yukon diggings.
"Hang him!" cried some one in the crowd.
"Shoot him!" shouted another.
"Drive him out of camp, and set him adrift like he done to Jalap
Coombs," suggested a third.
"Silence!" roared Judge Platt Riley, standing in his place and gazing
sternly about him. "You forget, gentlemen, that this is a court of law,
and though, maybe, it isn't run with all the frills of some, it's bound
to be respected. Likewise, it proposes to pronounce its own decisions.
In regard to the prisoner now awaiting sentence, he has been proved by
the testimony of reputable witnesses, and by his own admissions, to be a
liar, a traitor, a dog-stealer, which in this country is the same as a
boss-thief in the States, and a robber of his travelling companion under
circumstances that make him at the same time come pretty near to being a
murderer. For such as he hanging would be none too severe. But we have
never yet hanged a man in Forty Mile, and we don't want to begin, if we
can help it. The prisoner has expressed a desire to learn something of
our methods of working these diggings, and we promised to teach him. He
has also remarked that moss-stripping was a job well suited to convicts.
So be it. Prisoner at the bar, stand up and receive your sentence."
When the wretched man, who had fancied himself in a country where he
could commit any crime without fear of punishment, had been assisted to
his feet by Marshal Bettens and a volunteer deputy, the Judge said:
"By a fair trial, according to Yukon law, you are convicted of crimes
such as this community does not allow to go unpunished. On account of
them you are hereby sentenced to strip moss from the several claims of
this camp during every working hour of every working day from now until
such time as the first steamer reaches here from the lower river and is
ready to return. Then you will be allowed to work your way on her to St.
Michaels, where may the Agent have mercy upon you.
"In the mean time, when not at work, you will be closely confined in the
camp lock-up, under guard of the Marshal, who shall be entitled to your
services for two days in every week for his trouble. On other days he
will hire you out to any miner who has moss to be stripped, and who will
pay for your keep during such time as you may work for him."
This unique but just sentence was greeted with a murmur of approval from
the spectators; but this was quickly silenced by a frown from the Judge,
who continued:
"All the property that you brought into this camp, including money and
outfit, excepting your personal clothing, is hereby confiscated, to be
disposed of as follows: One team of dogs, one sledge, and half the cash
found in your possession shall be restored to Mr. Jalap Coombs, from
whom you helped to steal them. The remainder of the money, after the
Indian drivers who came with you have been paid, and one dog team shall
be devoted to the relief of Simon Goldollar, who, though he seems to be
a pretty bad lot, is still a white man, and so must not be allowed to
perish if it can be helped. The third dog team shall become the property
of Marshal Bettens in place of a fee for his services. The remainder of
the property, provisions, and so forth shall be devoted to the support
of the prisoner during such times as he is working for the Marshal. Mr.
Bettens will now remove his prisoner, and I hereby declare this court
adjourned." This ended Mr. Strengel's prospects in Forty Mile, and when,
some months later, a boat arrived from the lower river, he thankfully
departed from Camp Forty Mile mentally vowing never to return.
After consulting with Phil, Serge, and Jalap Coombs, Mr. Platt Riley,
who objected to being called "Judge" outside of court, decided to
entrust Simon Goldollar's rescue from the Indian village in which he had
been left to Kurilla and Chitsah, who were persuaded by a liberal
payment to return home that way. Another Indian was hired to accompany
them as far as Fort Yukon, and bring back word to Forty Mile of their
success.
Phil wrote and sent him a letter, in which he apologized for having
accused him of stealing his money or the fur-seal's tooth, Jalap Coombs
having told him the facts concerning these things, and hoped he would
return to St. Michaels in safety. Long afterwards he learned that Simon
Goldollar did make his way down the river, aided by Kurilla and Chitsah,
and was sent on by Gerald Hamer from Anvik to St. Michaels. There he was
discharged from the company's employ on account of the failure of his
expedition, and finally left Alaska in the same ship that bore
ex-convict Strengel from its shores. An amusing feature of it all was
that both these rascals attributed the ill success of their undertakings
to the unlucky influence of the fur-seal's tooth.
This industrious bit of ivory which exhibited such a fondness for
interfering with the affairs of men and boys, as well as such activity
in rapid travel and change of ownership reposed for several days in Mr.
Platt Riley's vest pocket, where it had been unconsciously thrust and
forgotten. Finally, tired of being thus neglected it worked a hole
through the pocket and fell to the floor. From there it was snapped up
by Mr. Riley's favorite dog, who lay at his feet, and doubtless imagined
it to be a choice morsel provided for him by his indulgent master. A
moment later the Judge was aroused from a reverie by the frantic
struggles of his dog, who seemed on the point of strangulation. When he
succeeded, by prompt effort, in removing the obstruction from the
animal's throat, and, with a feeling of superstitious amazement,
discovered its nature, he started at once for the store of the Yukon
Trading Company, determined to be rid of the uncanny object as quickly
as possible.
It so happened that none of the three occupants of the premises was at
home, nor were they to be seen in any direction. They had been preparing
for departure, and many articles ready for packing on the sledges lay
scattered about the room. Among these was a fur sleeping-bag, on which
Mr. Riley's eye no sooner rested than he thrust the magic tooth into it,
and shook it to the very bottom.
"There!" he exclaimed, "they are sure to take it with them; one of them
will find it sooner or later, and maybe it will bring him good luck. At
any rate I hope it will."
So on the morning of the 5th of February, although the thermometer
registered 48 deg. below zero, the little party set forth from Forty Mile
with three sledges and seventeen dogs. Above the first sledge fluttered
a small flag on which appeared the magic letters "U.S.M.," signifying
that Phil had undertaken to deliver a large packet of letters, the first
mail ever sent out from Forty Mile in winter.
The entire population of the camp was assembled to see them off; and
amid a round of hearty cheers the sledges dashed away up the Yukon.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
[Illustration]
STORIES OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.
WASHINGTON IRVING.
BY HENRIETTA CHRISTIAN WRIGHT.
"Left his lodging some time ago, and has not been heard of
since--a small elderly gentleman, dressed in an old black
coat and cocked hat, by the name of Knickerbocker.... Any information
concerning him will be thankfully received."
Such was the curious advertisement that appeared in the _Evening Post_
under the date of October 26, 1809, attracting the attention of all New
York. People read it as they sat at supper, talked of it afterward
around their wood fires, and thought of it again and again before they
fell asleep at night. And yet not a soul knew the missing old gentleman,
or had ever heard of him before. Still, he was no stranger to them, for
he was a Knickerbocker, and every one was interested in the
Knickerbockers, and every one felt almost as if a grandfather or
great-grandfather had suddenly come back to life, and disappeared again
still more suddenly, without a word of explanation.
For some time nothing more was heard of Diedrich Knickerbocker, and then
another advertisement appeared in the _Post_, saying he had been seen
twice on the road to Albany. Some time again elapsed, and finally the
landlord of the inn at which he had been reported to have stopped gave
up hope of ever seeing his guest again, and declared that he should sell
the manuscript of a book that Mr. Knickerbocker had left behind, and
take the proceeds in payment of his bill. People were really excited
about the fate of the old gentleman, and one of the city officials was
upon the point of offering a reward for his discovery, when a curious
thing happened. It was found that there was no old gentleman by the name
of Knickerbocker who had wandered away from his lodging; that there was
no inn at which he had lived, and no manuscript he had left behind, and
that, in fact, Mr. Knickerbocker was simply the hero of a book of which
the author took this clever means of advertising. The book claimed to be
the true history of the discovery and settlement of New York, and began
with an account of the creation of the world, passing on to the manners,
customs, and historical achievements of the old Hollanders who settled
Manhattan Island. Here we read of the golden reign of the first Dutch
Governor, Wouter Van Twiller, who was exactly five feet six inches in
height and six feet five inches in circumference, and who ate four hours
a day, smoked eight, and slept twelve, and so administered the affairs
of the colony that it was a marvel of prosperity. Next we hear of
Governor Keift, of lofty descent, since his father was an inspector of
windmills, how his nose turned up and his mouth turned down, how his
legs were the size of spindles, and how he grew tougher and tougher with
age, so that before his death he looked a veritable mummy. And then we
see the redoubtable Peter Stuyvesant stumping around on his wooden leg,
which was adorned with silver reliefs, furious with rage, menacing the
British fleet which has come to take possession of the town, threatening
vengeance dire upon the English King, and still cherishing his wrath
with fiery bravery when the enemy finally occupy the old Dutch town and
proceed to transform it into an English city.
The book was read with amazement, admiration, or interest, as the case
might be. Some said it appeared too light and amusing for real history;
others claimed that it held stories of wisdom that only the wise could
understand; others still complained that the author was no doubt making
fun of their respectable ancestors, and had written the book merely to
hold them up to ridicule. Only a few saw that it was the brightest,
cleverest piece of humor that had yet appeared in America, and that its
writer had probably a career of fame before him. The author was
Washington Irving, then a young man in his twenty-seventh year, and
already known as the writer of some clever newspaper letters, and of a
series of humorous essays published in a semimonthly periodical called
_Salmagundi_.
Irving was born in New York on the 3d of April, 1783, and was named
after George Washington. New York was then a small town, beyond the
limits of which were orchards, farms, country-houses, and the high-road
leading to Albany, along which the stage-coach passed at regular times.
There were no railroads, and Irving was fourteen years old before the
first steamboat puffed its way up the Hudson River frightening the
country people into the belief that it was an evil monster come to
devour them. All travelling was done by means of sailing vessels,
stage-coaches, or private conveyances; all letters were carried by the
stage-coach, and every one cost the sender or receiver twenty-five cents
for postage. The telegraph was undreamed of, and if any one had hinted
the possibility of talking to some one else a thousand miles away over a
telephone-wire, he would have been considered a lunatic or, possibly, a
witch. In fact, New York was a quiet, unpretentious little town whose
inhabitants were still divided into English or Dutch families, according
to their descent, and in whose households were found the customs of
England and Holland in full force. Irving's father was a Scotch
Presbyterian, who considered life a discipline, who thought all
amusement a waste of precious time, and who made the children devote one
out of the two half-weekly holidays to the study of the Catechism.
[Illustration: IRVING AS A STAR.]
Forbidden to attend the theatre, Irving would risk his neck nightly by
climbing out of his window to visit the play for an hour or so, and then
rush home in terror lest his absence had been noted and his future fun
imperilled, and many a night when sent early to bed he would steal away
across the adjacent roofs to send a handful of stones clattering down
the wide old-fashioned chimney of some innocent neighbor, who would
start from his dreams to imagine robbers, spooks, or other unpleasant
visitors in his bed-chamber. He was not particularly brilliant in his
studies, but he distinguished himself as an actor in the tragedies which
the boys gave in the school-room; at ten years of age he was the star of
the company, who did not even lose respect for him when once, being
called suddenly upon the stage through a mistake, he appeared with his
month full of honey-cake, which he was obliged to swallow painfully,
while the audience roared at the situation. Afterward when he rushed
around the stage flourishing a wooden sabre he was not a tragedian to be
trifled with. His favorite books were _Robinson Crusoe_, the _Arabian
Nights_, _Gulliver's Travels_, and all stories of adventure and travel.
The world beyond the sea always seemed a fairy-land to him; a little
print of London Bridge and another of Kensington Gardens that hung in
his bedroom stirred his heart wistfully; and he fairly envied the
odd-looking old gentlemen and ladies who appeared to be loitering around
the arches of St. John's Gate, as shown in a cut on the cover of an old
magazine. Later on his imagination was also kindled by short excursions
to the then wild regions of the Hudson and Mohawk valleys. Years
afterward we find the remembrance of these days gracing with loving
touch the pages of some of his choicest work.
[Illustration: IN THE SCOTCH HILLS WITH SCOTT.]
At seventeen Irving left school and began to study for the bar. But his
health, which had always been delicate, made it necessary for him to
take a long rest from study, and he accordingly left America for two
years of travel abroad. It was after his return home that he brought out
his Knickerbocker history, a work which made him so famous that when he
returned to England some time afterwards he found himself very well
known in the best literary circles. The results of this second visit are
found in the volumes comprising the _Tales of a Traveller_; _Bracebridge
Hall_; _Geoffrey Crayon's Sketch-Book_, and other miscellany, in which
occur charming descriptions of English country life, delightful ghost
stories, the famous description of an English Christmas, and the
immortal legend of _Rip Van Winkle_. One of Irving's most interesting
chapters in this collection is that of his visit to the haunts of Robin
Hood, whose exploits had so fascinated him as a boy that he spent his
entire holiday money in obtaining a copy of his adventures. _Abbotsford_
is an account of a visit that Irving paid to Sir Walter Scott. It is a
charming revelation of the social side of Scott's character, who
welcomed Irving as a younger brother in art, became his guide in his
visits to Yarrow and Melrose Abbey, and took long rambling walks with
him all around the country made so famous by the great novelist. Irving
recalled as among the most delightful hours of his life those walks over
the Scottish hills with Scott, who was described by the peasantry as
having "an awfu' knowledge of history," and whose talk was full of the
folklore, poetry, and superstitions that made up the interest of the
place.
In the evening they sat in the drawing-room, while Scott, with his great
hound, Maida, at his feet, read to him a scrap of old poetry, or a
chapter from King Arthur, or told some delightful bit of peasant
fairy-lore like that of the black cat which, on hearing one shepherd
tell another of having seen a number of cats dressed in mourning
following a coffin, sprang up the chimney in haste exclaiming, "Then I
am king of the cats!" and vanished to take possession of his vacant
kingdom. From this time on Irving's life was one of constant literary
labor for many years, all of which were spent abroad. His works on the
history of Spain, the companions of _Columbus_ and the _Alhambra_, were
compiled during his residence in Spain, where he had access to the
national archives, and where he became as familiar with the life of the
people as it was possible for a stranger to become. After seventeen
years' absence Irving returned to America, where he was welcomed as one
who won for his country great honors. He was the first writer to make
American literature respected abroad, and his return was made the
occasion of numerous fetes given in his honor in New York and other
cities.
[Illustration: SUNNYSIDE.]
He now built Sunnyside on the Hudson, the home that he loved so dearly,
and which will ever be famous as the abode of America's first great
writer.
His principal works following the Spanish histories were _Astoria_, the
history of the fur-trading company in Oregon, founded by the head of the
Astor family; _Captain Bonneville_, the adventures of a hunter in the
far West; the _Life of Goldsmith_; and the lives of _Mohammed and his
Successors_. He returned to Spain as ambassador in 1842, and remained
four years.
In the _Legends of the Conquest of Spain_ Irving tells the story of the
conquest of Spain by the Moors, as related in the old Spanish and
Moorish chronicles. The whole story is a brilliant, living picture of
that romantic age. The Spanish king goes to battle wearing robes of gold
brocade, sandals embroidered with gold and diamonds, and a crown studded
with the costliest jewels of Spain. He rides in a chariot of ivory, and
a thousand cavaliers knighted by his own hand surround him, while tens
of thousands of his brave soldiers follow him, guarding the sacred
banners emblazoned with the cross. The Moorish vanguard, riding the
famous horses of Arabia, advance to the sound of trumpet and cymbal,
their gay robes and snowy turbans, and their arms of burnished gold and
steel glittering in the sunshine which reflects in every direction the
sacred crescent, the symbol of their faith. The surroundings are equally
picturesque and romantic. The famous plain of Granada, adorned with
groves and gardens and winding streams, and guarded by the famous
Mountains of the Sun and Air, forms the foreground to the picture, while
in the distance we see the gloomy mountain passes, the fortified rocks
and castles, and the great walled cities, through which the Moors
passed, always victorious, and never pausing until their banners floated
from every cliff and tower.
Irving remained some months in the Alhambra, living over again the
scenes of Moorish story, and so catching the spirit of the lost grandeur
of the old palace that his descriptions read like a bit of genuine
Arabian chronicle, which had been kept safe until then in the grim
guardianship of the past.
[Illustration: IRVING LISTENING TO THE OLD TALES OF THE MOORS.]
The chapters of the _Alhambra_ are also full of delightful legends, the
fairy tales which time had woven around the beautiful ruin, and which
the custodians of the place related gravely to Irving as genuine
history. It calls up a pleasant picture to think of Irving sitting in
the stately hall or on his balcony, listening to one of these old tales
from the lips of his tattered but devoted domestic while the twilight
was gathering, and the nightingale singing in the groves and gardens
beneath. He himself said that it was the realization of a daydream which
he had cherished since the time when, in earliest boyhood on the banks
of the Hudson, he had pored over the story of the Granada.
In his work, _The Conquest of Granada_, Irving relates the story of the
retaking of Granada by Ferdinand and Isabella. So sympathetically and
graphically does Irving describe the fortunes of this war that he must
ever remain the historian of the Moors of Spain, whose spirit seemed to
inspire the beautiful words in which he celebrated their conquests,
their achievements and their defeats.
In the _Chronicle of Wolfert's Roost_ Irving follows in imagination old
Diedrich Knickerbocker into the famous region of Sleepy Hollow, where
much of the material for the celebrated Knickerbocker History was said
to have been collected. This chronicle, it was claimed, was written upon
the identical old Dutch writing-desk that Diedrich used, the elbow chair
was the same that he sat in, the clock was the very one he consulted so
often during his long hours of composition. In these pages old Diedrich
walks as a real person, and Irving follows him with faithful step
through the region that he loved so fondly all his life.
Everything here is dwelt upon with lingering touch. The brooks and
streams, the meadows and cornfields, the orchards and the gardens, and
the groves of beech and chestnut have their tribute from the pen of one
who found their charms ever fresh, who sought in them rest and
happiness, and who came back to them lovingly to spend the last days of
his life in their familiar companionship.
Irving died in 1859, and was buried at Sunnyside; in sight of the Hudson
whose legends he had immortalized, and whose beauty never ceased to
charm him from the moment it first captivated his heart in his boyhood
days.
[Illustration: THE CAMERA CLUB]
This Department is conducted in the interest of Amateur
Photographers, and the Editor will be pleased to answer any
question on the subject so far as possible. Correspondents should
address Editor Camera Club Department.
PAPERS FOR BEGINNERS, NO. 1.
THE ACTION OF LIGHT ON THE SENSITIVE PLATE.
The process of making photographs has been made so simple by modern
science that the most of us make our picture by intuition--that sort of
sixth sense by which we know just how long to expose a plate, when to
take it from the developer, when it is fixed sufficiently, etc.,
etc.--though we can give no scientific explanation of our methods, and
know little or nothing how the chemical changes are produced which
result in the finished photograph.
It is not at all necessary to know the process of making a sensitive
plate, but it is quite necessary to know something of the action of
light on the plate in order to make a good picture. A photographic
negative is formed by the chemical action of light admitted through a
lens or even a tiny hole, into an otherwise light tight box, and
striking a glass plate, film, paper, or celluloid, coated with sensitive
silver salts. The part of the light that affects this coating is the
blue rays.
The rays of light may be separated by the prism into a band of five
different colors--red, yellow, green, blue, and violet. Three of these
colors--the red, yellow, and blue--are called the primary colors, for
any color or shade desired may be obtained by blending and mixing them
in different proportions. These three primary colors have each a
separate power. The red rays possess heating power, the yellow rays
possess illuminating power, and the blue rays chemical power. The blue
rays are called actinic, and when we speak of actinic light we mean the
blue rays which produce the chemical change in the sensitive plate. The
effect of these actinic rays may be seen in other things besides the
sensitive plates. The fading of carpets, draperies, and clothing, the
tanning or browning of the skin, etc., are due to their action.
After the sensitive plate has been exposed in the camera to the chemical
action of the blue rays, the change which has taken place is invisible
to the eye, and in this state is called the latent image, because it is
dormant or hidden. In order to preserve this chemical change in the
silver salts the sensitive plate must be washed or soaked in a solution
which will form an opaque compound with the part of the salt which has
been acted upon by the light. As it is necessary to have a light to
watch the process and stop it when it has been carried far enough, we
must have a light free from actinic or blue rays. We therefore darken
the room and use a red light, for the red rays have little or no actinic
power.
As we watch the chemical change which takes place in the sensitive plate
when covered with what we call the developer, we notice black patches
appear here and there on the plate. These are the places which have been
exposed to the strongest actinic rays. All bodies radiate or reflect
light, some more than others. A piece of yellow silk may appear to the
eye lighter in color than a piece of blue silk, but when the two pieces
are photographed it will be found that the yellow photographs much
darker than the blue silk. This is because the yellow silk does not
reflect actinic rays, while the blue does, and therefore the sensitive
plate is more strongly affected by the light reflected from the blue
than from the yellow silk. The yellow-colored silk possesses the
illuminating power which causes it to make a room look bright and sunny,
while the blue silk possesses the chemical power which affects the
sensitive salts.
If the sensitive plate has been exposed to a landscape, the strongest
actinic rays come from the blue sky, and as the chemical used to develop
or bring out the image affects the part which has been exposed to the
strongest light most quickly, the result in the negative is the opaque
deposit which covers all that part of the plate exposed to the light
from the sky. After the image has appeared on the plate it must undergo
another process to make it permanent. It must be placed in a chemical
solution which shall dissolve the silver salts from the parts unaffected
by the actinic rays. Where the actinic light has been the strongest the
glass will be covered with a black deposit, and where the light has not
reached the plate with sufficient force the salts will be dissolved and
the glass will be clear, while the high lights, the shadows, and the
half-tones will show just how much each object reflected actinic rays.
We manage our cameras, but the sun is the real work-man. What he does is
well worth learning, for it enables us to tell beforehand just what kind
of a negative we shall have after we have exposed a sensitive plate to
his influence.
ROUND TABLE PHOTOGRAPHIC EXCHANGE CLUB.
Our suggestion of forming a photographic exchange club, or travelling
photographic exhibit, meets with the warm approval of many of our
members. Next week we shall give directions for beginning and carrying
on our club. We give the names and addresses of members who will act as
representatives. Ernest P. Fredericks, Arlington, New Jersey; Samuel J.
Castner, 3729 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania; Walter G.
Sill, 511 Central Avenue, East Orange, New Jersey; Andrew Phillips,
Nunda, New York; C. Roy Baker, 315 W. Dry Street, Salem, Ohio; William
J. Tobey, Washington, Kansas; William C. Davids, Rutherford, New Jersey.
CONSTANT READER asks: "1. Is it possible to photograph from a
moving vessel, and how? 2. Can I take photographs of microscopic
specimens with an ordinary camera, and will you please describe
the method? 3. How can I photograph monuments so that they will
not show black in the picture? 4. What make of plates is the
quickest? 5. How can I photograph a mantel-piece in a hall without
using a flash-light? The hall is rather dark." 1. One can easily
photograph objects from a moving vessel by using quick plates and
making the exposure instantaneous. Successful snap-shots, but not
artistic pictures, have been and can be made from moving trains.
2. An article will soon be published on microphotography for
amateurs. The process requires too long a description for the
space devoted to queries. 3. A cloudy day--not heavy clouds--is
the better time for photographing monuments. A rather slow plate
and a short time exposure will give better detail, and render the
monument or figure with correct color value. Use orthochromatic or
nonhalation plates. 4. The rapidity of the plate is marked on the
box. Some brands of plates are marked with the sensitometer
number, like the Stanley, Carbutt, Seed, etc., and others are
marked with a letter like the Cramer. The sensitiveness of the
Stanley, which is marked "Sens. 50," and the Cramer "C" plate is
about equal as to rapidity. 5. If you cannot use a flash-light for
the mantel, try a long exposure by lamp-light. Place the lamp,
which should give a clear, brilliant light, so as to illuminate
the wood-work without giving strong shadows. If one lamp is not
sufficient to light the whole surface, take two, but place them so
that the light from each comes from the same direction. A
reflector back of the lamp helps the lighting. A shallow tin pan,
if bright, makes a good reflector if the genuine article cannot be
obtained.
LADY GRACE S., Vails Gate, N. Y., asks for the name of a book
giving full instructions in photography for beginners. "Every
camera maker furnishes with each camera sent out a book giving
simple instruction for using the camera, and directions for
developing plates. This would be a sufficient guide for the
beginner, and if rules are followed one can obtain very good
negatives. There are many books published on photography which
would be helpful after a while, but the beginner will find the
directions which come with the camera all that are needful at
first. With this number we begin publishing what will be a series
of papers for beginners in photography. Technical terms will be
explained, formulas for work will be given with explanations of
what each chemical is expected to do. Prices of chemicals for each
formula will also be added. It is intended to make these
instructions as simple as possible, and if Lady Grace will watch
this column she will find in it we hope just the help she needs."
OFF WITH THE MERBOY.
BY JOHN KENDRICK BANGS.