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distances from each other, and cannot be reached but by arduous toil over rail and road, and sometimes in remote corners, where book-worms, not often provided with a carriage and pair, are obliged to tramp, like dismounted knights-errant of old, in search of a night's lodging. Moreover, nobody is admitted in an English mansion, unless properly introduced and provided with the necessary recommendations. •

Our friends on the Continent are then carefully warned that literary researches in England impose on their correspondents rather heavy losses of time and travelling expenses, which deserve somewhat more than polite gramercy.

A Roman prince, well known in the scientific world for his learned discoveries in the history of science during the Middle Ages, had sent one of his secretaries to ransack the old books of the public library of one of the thirty-four capitals of the Germanic confederation. In the mean while he was informed by one of his friends in England, that a gentleman of this country was the fortunate possessor of a manuscript, which the prince had vainly hunted for in all the libraries of the Continent, and which contained invaluable information on the subject of his laborious researches. Having written to the gentleman, whom he knew personally, and ascertained that the manuscript was actually in his possession, he received for his secretary full permission to inspect it and make as many extracts as he pleased. He ordered his amanuensis to interrupt for the present his work in Germany, and to repair to London in order to avail himself of the permission granted.

The secretary, delighted to see London, which he had never visited, soon arrived in the English metropolis; but he heard there, to his no small dismay, that Sir John Oldbuck lived in town but a short time during the season, and was to be found during the rest of the year at his country-seat, about two hundred miles farther north, where he kept all his books and manuscripts. The prince was not aware of this fact; and when acquainted with this startling contre-temps, considering the distance very little compared with the move already accomplished from Germany, he sent instructions to go forward; the secretary accordingly started on his journey northward, in the uncertain hope of finding the country-seat of Sir John near the railway-station at which he was directed to stop.

Arrived there, our Italian was in the greatest possible trouble to make the definitive end of his journey understood. The station-master at length discovered it, and informed him that Sir John resided in a very retired part of the country, somewhat over twenty miles from the station. However, no postmaster would undertake to convey the Italian over the distance, on account of the particularly dilapidated state of the roads, and he would have been obliged to retrace his steps towards London, if a horse-dealer had not agreed, for a very nice consideration, to take him in his gig, and put him and his carpet-bag down in view of the mansion of Sir John. On they went, but the roads were so bad, the ruts so deep, that the Italian, nearly jolted to death, and incessantly coming in contact with the unwashed and rough horse-dealer, fairly exhausted his Italian vocabulary of maledictions on English biblomaniacs hiding their treasures in corners accessible only to birds, and heartily wished that some day a swarm of mythological harpies might alight upon them and spare a future Hercules the trouble

of attempting the conquest of this garden of the northern Hesperides.

However, this flood of rolling curses, being in Italian, fell on the ears of the horse-dealer as on a solid rock. He, perhaps, poor soul, had he been able to understand them, might have been sorely scandalized' by the outrageous outpourings of his companion. At length the mansion of Sir John was in view. According to agreement, the Italian was deposited with his carpet-bag on the road to a stately avenue of old trees, and he felt himself relieved from the awful joltings of the gig, and the by no means desirable companionship of the horse-dealer. Was Sir John at home? Would he offer to the weary and sore traveller the hospitality so much wanted? The secretary had now met with so many difficulties, he had so ruthlessly sent his future host to a place not to be mentioned, that, in the hypothesis of an invisible magnetic current between two human brains, he was not at all certain of a kind reception; and, what was worse, as far as his view could extend in the fast coming darkness, he could not see another roof where he could for love or money find a shelter and a tolerable supper.

The mansion was respectable enough, although surrounded by grounds as badly cultivated as they could be, and so covered with decayed trees, untrimmed hedges, and unrestrained undergrowth, that they revealed at once a careless landlord. Our traveller nerved himself to ring the bell, and after a rather long delay heard the bolts withdrawn from the inside, and saw the rosy face of a buxom girl appearing through the half-opened door. Unable to explain his crraud in English, the Italian handed Sir John's letter granting permission to visit his library, and was forthwith requested to squeeze himself, as best he could, through the still half-opened entrance.

The secretary's first impression was that such a reception implied a hospitality with a vengeance. But when, according to the polite request of the buxom girl, he had squeezed himself through the aperture, he at once understood the real state of things. The passage was so full of books, heaped in all sorts of queer ways, that actually the door could not be opened more than it had been for himself. Sir John was at home. The secretary was received with the open-heartedness which behooves an English squire. Dinner was on the table, and although there was neither pasta frolla nor morladella di Bologna, our Italian enjoyed it more than any dinner he had ever had. The host spoke fluently lafavella toscana, and the guest, who had felt the impression of being under the incubus of an awful nightmare ever since his arrival in England, was most cheerful when the cloth was removed and Sir John began to talk about old lore with which the Italian was eminently conversant.

All went so smoothly and satisfactorily in the exchange of post-prandial civilities and learned dissertations on mediaeval antiquities, that our Italian had nearly forgotten the object of his mission, and did not care a bit where he might have to sleep. Nevertheless, the subject was in due time introduced by Sir John himself, who informed the traveller that he had a nice room for him. "But do you move much in your sleep?" inquired the host, after having imparted this information. "Not particularly," replied the Italian, waiting for an explanation. But Sir John gave none, and merely said in answer, "Then it is all right!" and as the time to go to bed was fairly arrived, he took a light and showed the secretary his way to the bedroom.

The house was full of books from top to bottom. The very passage's from one room to another had their rows of presses, moaning under the weight of endless folios and quartos, reminding the traveller of the catacombs of Rome, with their awful array of mouldering bones and empty brainpans. He found himself, indeed, in the catacombs of Thought, a little less dreary than those of his native country, but with an atmosphere loaded with nearly the same offensive smell of decaying matter. The very steps of the staircase were covered with volumes resembling the fallen bricks of a tumbling pyramid. His bedroom had, besides the presses filled to the ceiling, half a dozen huge piles of manuscripts in their wooden bindings, towering high over the iron bed, which had been prepared in a corner.

"Corpo di Baccho!" exclaimed the Italian,"! now fully understand the bearing of the enigmatic words of Sir John! I must not move in my sleep! Damocles had only a paltry sword suspended over his head, and I see two hundred heavy folios, bound in oak boards with brass clasps, ready to crush me at the first motion of the bedstead!" The perspective was by no means a comfortable one. Heartily disgusted with his impending fate, the Italian fastened the door, tried the piles of books, which were only kept in perpendicular columns by the law of gravitation, removed the bed as far as he could from the threatening mass towering high above him, and, harassed by the joltings of the horse-dealer's gig, he gently crept into bed with sorrowful misgivings. He had prudently left the candle alight, but after a while found it impossible to forget his position. The book-shelves all around the room seemed to reel before his eyes. When looking above his head, he caught a glimpse of the pillars of Knowledge heaped behind him, he saw their tops moving as if to take a leap towards him. Slipping out of bed with minute precautions, he held out the light, and ascertained that the books had not moved from the perpendicular. Ashamed of his fears, our traveller crawled again towards his couch, and after a manly struggle with his fears, at length contrived to get to sleep. But awful dreams haunted his brain. All at once he fancied himself buried under the weight of gigantic folios; he felt myriads of bookworms issuing from the mouldy boards, at first crawling all over his body, then penetrating through the pores of his flesh to attack his heart with their sharp mandibles. He saw himself pierced through and through like a sieve by innumerable round holes; while his face, of which he was proud enough be lore, was tattooed with labyrinthan zigzags which a New Zealander might have envied, but which were not yet come into fashion in civilized Europe.

Horror-stricken and unable to endure any longer such deadly torture, our traveller jumped out of bed with so tremendous a bound, that he would have brought down all the books on his head if they had not been steadily poised by their "own weight. Thus his fears had been groundless; and it occurred to him that he had perhaps after supper indulged too freely in the powerful drinks poured out with lavish hands by the hospitable Sir John. He therefore ceased to consider his life in jeopardy, but on no account whatever was he tempted to expose himself to the return of the terrible nightmare, by imploring again the favor of the pagan Morpheus. The night was far advanced, his light still burning, so he dressed himself quietly, and found on the shelves before him so many treasures of medieval antiquity, that he entirely forgot the harassing journey; and

long after the break of day was found by hi> l deeply engaged in the perusal of a most intacting manuscript of the celebrated GrossetetK, Bishop of Lincoln, written on splendid vellum, and fa!l of valuable information.

As soon as breakfast was over, the Italian inqnirs-1 about the manuscript wanted by the Roman prince, and expressed his readiness to commence at im« his work. At this announcement, the good all open features of Sir John became decidedly cloaM "I have not been able," said he dolefully, •• to )iU my hand on this accursed manuscript for the In ten days, although I had carefully put it aside for you, and during the whole week I have inctssintly looked for it in every possible corner of the hook. But you seo I am alone here, without librarian or secretary, surrounded by stupid clowns, wbo kiica nothing about books; and so many lots are comic; every day from public sales, that it is almost impitsible for me to find a book, whey unluckily it Ins got on the wrong shelf."

The Italian cheerfully offered himself to help Sir John in the search for the missing manuscript. Als' it was bound in vellum, like many thousand similar ones in the house; there was no title on the back: the catalogue of the library, a tremendous work,»a still merely in embryo; there was, it is true, son* sort of methodical arrangement on the shelves, according to subjects; but the scientific books aloe filled two good-sized rooms, and a fortnight would not have been sufficient to ascertain the title of each work and fish out the object wanted. To sum up; after hours of useless search, the manuscript was nowhere to be found, and our Italian, in awful dread of passing another night under the roof of Sir John. insisted for taking leave immediately after dinner, and was seen to the station by a neighboring farmer, who took him in a cart far less comfortable than the gig of the horse-dealer. From London the Italian secretary returned to Germany, where, it is said, be carried so vivid a remembrance of the night at Sir John's mansion, that he cannot remain in the dark in a library without feeling a creeping sensation fc of book-worms crawling up his legs to feast upon him.


Some mention has been made in the Court of Probate upon one or two recent occasions of utf case of" Ry ves against the Attorney-General' 1' may not be generally known that, although the cause has not as yet assumed a very important sha(*i it involves points of historical interest; and when it shall have come fully before the court, it will, we have no doubt, attract a large share of public attention. The suit is undertaken by a mother and her son, who, though they are now living in comparative obscurity, aspire to the high honor of being recognized as members of the Royal Family. 1" endeavoring to accomplish their end it will be necessary for them to inquire somewhat closely into the private history of King George III., and nw.T curious incidents must of necessity be brought oat by the evidence and documents exhibited in reference to this part of the case; for Mrs. Ryvea, the petitioner, asserts that she has descended from the issue of a private marriage contracted by the fourth brother oi George III, who was known as Frui« Henry Frederick, Duke of Cumberland. The W.v to whom the Prince is said to have been married was Olive Wilmot, the daughter of Dr. James W*

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mot, Rector of Barton-on-the-Heath, in Warwickshire. His wife, the mother of this Olive Wilmot. was a Polish princess. How much interesting matter it will be necessary to disclose, for the purposes of this suit, respecting the private relations existing between the Prince and Olive Wilmot prior to the alleged marriage it is impossible to say at present; but, as the whole suit hinges upon this point, everything incidental to the intimacy of Prince Frederick and Dr. Wilmot and his family will no doubt be thoroughly canvassed.

But whether this marriage can be proved or not, it is quite certain that it was acknowledged at the time, for the gossips of the period seem to have made it one of their stock subjects, and the daughter born of the marriage was also publicly recognized. It seems, however, that in the course of time the Prince got into a scrape with Mrs. Horton, a sister to the Colonel Luttrell who was afterwards returned member of Parliament by Court influence in place of "Demagogue Wilkes." The Prince eventually married Mrs. Horton, and it became necessary that something should be done to hush up the scandal. The histories referring to the period show that the King about this time would not receive his brother at Court, and it is conjectured, with some show of reason, that the prohibition arose out of the disagreement between them consequent upon this bigamous marriage. The Prince, accordingly, unwilling or unable to deny himself the pleasure of Mrs. Horton's society, and equally loath to be denied the Court, neglected his first wife, who afterwards died in France. He also consented to a proposal that his daughter should be brought up in ignorance of her parentage until the scandal had died a natural death, and certain distinguished personages had died too.

When this had been settled to the satisfaction of all concerned, save those who, if the story be true, had been most grievously wronged, the marriage of the Prince with Mrs. Horton was allowed to pass without interference, and it is this Mi's. Horton who has continued to be acknowledged as the only and childless wife of Prince Frederick, Duke of Cumberland. It is easily conceived, that an arrangement such as that which, it is said, was come to between the Prince and the King was not concluded without some writing, and it is asserted that several documents were signed touching the legitimacy of the daughter of the Prince and his wife, ne'e Olive Wilmot. These documents, it is further asserted, were witnessed by more than one minister of state of the period, and carefully preserved at the King's request. They were ultimately committed to the care of certain eminent persons, upon whom a solemn obligation of secrecy was laid, until the happening of certain events, which have long since occurred. The names of all these persons will, we have no doubt, be made known, in the course of the proceedings before Sir J. P. Wilde.

The case has already been before the public, not only in courts of justice, but also in Parliament and by petition to the Royal Family. The first petition to the Crown was made in 1819, and the last in 1858. In 1861 Mrs. Ryves, then sixty-four years of age, obtained a decree against the AttorneyGeneral establishing the marriage of her father to the lady to whom we have already referred as the daughter of the Duke's first marriage, and the chief object of the present petition is, as we have already stated, to establish Mrs. Uvves's descent through this lady from Prince Henry Frederick,

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Madame De Castei.nau requests the French Academy to direct its commissioners to examine with the aid of the solar microscope the animalcules to which she attributes the development of cholera, and specimens of which she offers, to place at their disposal.

Messrs. Cassell's subscription list for the English edition of Gustave Dore's famous Bible illustrations has been an extraordinay one. The first impression has been almost entirely absorbed, and the booksellers of London alone put down their names for nearly 30,000 copies.

A Shout time since, a little brochure was issued in Paris, price fifty centimes, giving a history of the popular subscription in Paris to the Lincoln Medal. From this we learn that it is intended to present the Medal to Mrs. Lincoln on the I4th of next April, the anniversary of the assassination. The brochure is entitled " La Medaille de la Liberte," and contains, besides the narrative and correspondence in relation to the medal, a biography of the late President.

The original manuscript of Humboldt's "Cosmos " has just been presented to the Emperor Napoleon by M. Buschmann, Royal Librarian, and member of the Berlin Scientific Academy. This very valuable collection consisted of five immense volumes in quarto, containing the corrected sheets from which the first edition of the work was struck at Baron Georges de Colla's printing-office at Stuttgard. The Emperor has sent the MS. to the Imperial Library, as he conceives that so valuable a gift ought not to remain in any private collection.

Gai.igxani mentions that a bottle was fished up out of the Seine at Paris a few days since. It was lying in contact with the side of a steamer engaged in conveying goods between Paris and London, and contained a narrative, written in English, signed J. Griffith, of Manchester, of a shipwreck said to have taken place on the coast of Iceland. The bottle is supposed to have attached itself to the packet during a passage across the Channel.

Mr. Frederick HuTn, the well-known London book-collector, who purchased at the sale of the late Mr. George Daniel's library the celebrated unique collection of seventy black-letter ballads, printed between the years 155D and 1597, for £ 750, is about to reprint them in a single volume, as his contribution to the members of the Philobiblon Society, and that the impression will be very limited, and only for private distribution. A more important addition to our collection of old English poetry can scarcely be imagined, whilst to the student of English philology the book will have a value beyond all price.

In a paper lately published in the Archives den Sciences, Professor Leuckart states that the brilliant spots grouped with more or less regularity upon certain fish of the group Scopeliniija: are really accessory eyes. The existence of more than a thousand such eyes in a vertebrate animal is quite unexpected. They are distributed over the hyoid apparatus, and on the head and bellv, where they form two rows, which are parallel. Herr Leuckart bases his opinion upon the anatomical structure of the organs known as spots, these having really the form of little cylinders, the anterior part of which is occupied by a spherical body like a crystalline lens, behind which is a sort of vitreous humor.

The London Review says: The very curious library of the late Edward Higgs, Esq., which Messrs. Sotheby have just sold, contained some exceedingly rare books. Amongst them was a copy of that all but unique volume, " Dissertation on Liberty and Necessity, Pleasure and Pain," written and printed by Benjamin Franklin, when a journeyman in London, in 1725. The book was somewhat atheistical, and, although the author issued it privately, he was ashamed of his performance directly he had completed it, and resolved forthwith to destroy the edition. It is supposed that not more than two copies are in existence.

A Terrible story reaches us from France of an unfortunate writer in fiction — M. Ponson du Terrail — who has been condemned to pay a fine of 1,000 francs for having made his landlord figure in one of his works under the name of Grapillard. What would English novelists think of this? There is hardly one who is not popularly believed to have indulged in sketching off the peculiarities of friends. Mr. Dickens has indeed in one instance admitted

the charge; and some of Mr. Thackeray's readers, justly or unjustly, are ready to point out theorisinals of plenty of his characters. The temputra to sketch a living subject is undoubtedly sJnint. and perhaps no writer of fiction, unless he is coDttni to construct characters on abstract principles, cai altogether avoid it. But think of paying for liu luxury at the rate of 1,000 francs a man! esclaimthe Pall Mall Gazette. Fancy Mr. DisraeH crcpounding at that rate for the Rigbys, the ViTiir Greys, and Sibyls of his salad days ot" literary tkmr' Successful novel-writing is generally believed to k profitable; but it could hardly be expected to Uithat.

The only deficiency Mr. Gladstone ha? shown * leader of the House of Commons, is a deficiency tmemory. On Thursday week he spoke of the J'ri> cess Helena as having been the " eldest unmam^i daughter of the Queen " at the time of the Fricre Consort's death, though all the gossip of the tin.-; was of the comfort given to her mother by the Princess Alice, who was not married till many mooilater. And on the same night he forgot Sir RobeK Peel, in enumerating the Prime Ministers to thcs a statue had been erected in Westminster Abkei He repaired one slip on the same evening, and m>. on the following evening. But both were wKl slip of memory, and there would be even more icisn for forgetting who is the present Prime Mini-ur than either of them, though the mistake would U more serious.

Mrs. M. Migos, of Bouverie Street, writes toil* Times correcting Mr. Gladstone npon a question <' historical accuracy. Mrs. Miggs says: "Being rayself a mother, although I do not wish to speak sewi* of Mr. Gladstone, as would be ungrateful in one -.< a class has to thank him in regard of tea and sun:. still, truth is truth, and having read in the Tiki daily newspaper to-day that he should say Prince* Helena were the eldest unmarried daughter at llr time of the demise of the great and good Prica Consort, beg to say that if you will look in 'IM' Peerage,' which one of my lodgers have left here, but not the rent, will see that the late prince's I* occurred the 14th of December, 1861, and th»ttbdear Princess Alice Maud Mary, whose conilnct v the time were generally spoke of with admiration and love, were married 1st of July, 1862, »wl 1 think that right is right."

In France, a dead body must be buried widi twenty-four hours of decease, and a petition h.is "cently been presented to the Senate praying Unt the time should be enlarged to forty-eight DourCardinal Donnet supported the petition, mentiom-' several cases of premature interment, and related J story which produced a profound sensation. ^ young priest, in the summer of 1826, fainteil in tl>* pulpit, and was given up for dead. He was UiJ out, examined, and pronounced dead, the teb"' reciting the De Profundit, while the coffin was pparing for the body. All this while, and deep i":;' the night, the " body," though motionless, heanl i3 that was going on in an agony of mind impost to describe. At last a friend, known to the" ceased" from infancy, came in, his voice some dormant power, and next day the corpse *•» again preaching from the same pulpit. The suffer' was the venerable cardinal then telling the tale. »»'• in spite of official resistance, the Senate voted tin" the petition should be referred to the Minister °*

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the Interior for action. The idea of the French authorities is, that, as the living and the dead are among the poor forced to remain in the same room, interment cannot be delayed; but twenty-four hours is a horribly short space of time in a country where it is not sufficient to produce any symptom of corruption.

A Correspondent of The Athenmum, writing from Rome, says : —" An interesting novelty has sprung up amongst us, in a city where all our surroundings are of the olden time. Miss Edmonia Lewis, a lady of color, has taken a studio in Rome, and works as a sculptress in one of the rooms formerly occupied by the great master Canova. She is the only lady of her race in the United States who has thus applied herself to the study and practice of sculptural art, and the fact is so remarkable and unique that a brief sketch of her life, given atmost in her own words, will, I am sure, be acceptable to the wide circle of your readers. 'My mother,' she says, 'was a wild Indian, and was born in Albany, of copper color, and with straight black hair. There she made and sold moccasins. My father, who was a negro, and a gentleman's servant, saw her and married her. I was born at Greenhigh, in Ohio. Mother often left her home, and wandered with her people, whose habits she could not forget, and thus we her children were brought up in the same wild manner. Until I was twelve years old I led this wandering life, fishing and swimming,' she added with great glee, 'and making moccasins. I was then sent to school for three years in McGraw, but was declared to be wild, — they could do nothing with me. Often they said to me, ' Here is your book, the book of Nature; come and study it.' From this school I was sent to another, at Oblin, in Ohio, where I remained four years, and then I thought of returning to wild life again; but my love of sculpture forbade it. Some friends recommended me to go to England, but I thought it better first to study in Rome.'

"And here she is, the descendant and member of a much-injured race, struggling against ignorant prejudice, but with genius enough to prove that she bears the image of Him who made all nations under the sun. Whilst her youth and her color claim our warmest sympathies, Miss Edmonia Lewis has a very engaging appearance and manners. Her eyes and the upper part of her face are fine; the crisp hair and thick lips, on the other hand, bespeak her negro paternity. Naive in manner, happy and cheerful, and all-unconscious of difficulty, because obeying a great impulse, she prattles like a child, and with much simplicity and spirit pours forth all her aspirations. At present, she has little to show; she appeals to the patronage and protection of the civilized and the Christian world. There is the cast of a bust of Colonel Shaw, who commanded the first colored regiment that was ever formed, and who died 'a leader for all time in Freedom's Chivalry.' The bust was executed from a photograph, and now, as a commission from the sister of Colonel Shaw, is being transferred to marble. Another commission is a bust of Mr. Dio Lewis, I believe of New York. Her first ideal group was to be executed under promise for some gentlemen in Boston, and, in the true spirit of a heroine, she has selected for her subject 'The Freedwoman on first hearing of her Liberty.' She has thrown herself on her knees, and, with clasped hands and uplifted eyes,

norant of the cause of her agitation, hangs over her knees and clings to her wait. She wears the turban which was used when at work. Around her wrists are the half-broken manacles, and the chain lies on the ground still attached to a large ball. 'Yes,' she observed, 'so was my race treated in the market and elsewhere.' It tells, with much eloquence, a painful story."

Mr. J. Parneix sencbj the Reader the following observations touching Chinese mirrors: "A Chinese mirror consists, as many of your readers doubtless know, of a plate of white metal, polished on one side, and embossed, sometimes with letters, always with representations of birds and trees, on the other. Some, but only a few, of these mirrors possess this property: if a beam of strong light, such as that of the sun or of the electric or oxyhydrogen lamp, be allowed to impinge upon the polished surface of the mirror, and to be reflected upon a screen, a bright image of one or other of the raised letters upon the back of the mirror can be seen in the patch of light produced. A short time ago my attention was drawn to this fact, and I was informed that the cause of this phenomenon was not known. I beg your permission to lay the results of my investigation of the subject before your readers.

"I obtained the use of one of these mirrors, which possessed the property in question, in order that I might examine it. The polished surface was not plane, but very slightly convex. On observing the image of the glass globe of a gas-burner, as the mirror was slowly moved so that the reflected beam came to the eye from that part of the mirror on the back of which there was a raised letter, I saw first a depression on the edge of the image, followed by an excrescence which lasted for a short time only, and then another depression which gradually disappeared. Now these effects would be produced by, first, an increased curvature, then a plane surface, followed by another increased curvature, and ultimately the ordinary convexity of the mirror.

"This observation, combined with the fact that the appearance of the image of the letter upon the screen is bright, suggested at once the solution of the problem. Those parts of the mirror which are immediately in front of the raised letters do not possess the same convexity as the rest of the surface, but are more or less plane. It would seem as if the mirror, in cooling, had warped into a convex form, with the exception of those parts in front of the raised letters, which, by pressure, in all probability, had been forced to retain a plane surface. As a further proof of the truth of this explanation, I may mention this fact. A few days ago, I went to an antiquarian shop in Piccadilly, opposite St. James's Church, and inquired for a Chinese mirror. I was shown four, all of them being so tarnished that, independently of the dulness of the afternoon, I could not examine them directly for this particular property. Two of them appeared to be plane mirrors, these I at once rejected; of the remaining two, one appeared to be more convex than the other, and this I examined by cleaning the surface over one of the raised letters, and observing the image of an object, as seen by reflection in the mirror ; distortions, similar to those which I have described, were plainly visible, and I at once purchased the mirror. On subsequently trying the effect of a beam of powerful light, reflected from it upon a screen, the image of one of the letters became distinctly

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