DAGUERRE AND HIS PREDECESSORS. ABOUT forty-five years ago, there lived in a secluded country-house on the banks of the Saône, a gentleman named Joseph Nichéphore Niepce. Assisted by one of his brothers, Claude Niepce, he devoted his leisure hours to researches in practical science. In the year 1806, they employed themselves in constructing a locomotive engine, in which heated air should supply the place of steam. They also experimented on the culture and preparation of woad; and succeeded in extracting from that plant a colouring material identical with India indigo. But, a more important invention soon gave a new direction to the labours of Niepce. The art of lithography had just been introduced into France, and excited universal interest. Everywhere might be seen artists and men of science, searching for the best kind of chalk. Niepce made several experiments on the soft stone which paves the road to Lyons; but, having failed in his attempts, he conceived the idea of substituting polished metal for stone. He tried to draw proofs on a plate of tin, with lithographic crayons and varnish. While prosecuting these researches, he conceived the idea of obtaining on metallic plates a representation of external objects, by the sole action of the rays of light. Let us pause for a moment to consider how it was that Niepce, who was far from being a philosopher, thus boldly grappled with the most complicated physical problem of his day. It was, because he belonged to that class of indefatigable inquirers, who, but slenderly provided with technical learning, plunge into untrodden paths, seeking the impossible, invoking the unknown. It was not a philosopher who discovered the mariner's compass, it was a humble citizen at Naples. It was not a learned man who invented the telescope, it was two children playing in an optician's shop at Middleburg. It was not a chemist who first recognised the mighty power of steam, it was a simple artisan. It was not a profound physician who introduced vaccination, it was a shepherd of Languedoc. Nor was it an artist who invented lithography, it was a young actor at Munich. Neither did a philosopher first contrive balloons, but a woman, Madame Montgolfier, one day while she was drying her petticoat, by distending it on a large basket. It was not a savant who discovered galvanism, but, a physician of Bologna, who, happened to pass through his kitchen while his cook was preparing a dish of stewed frogs. Thus, perhaps to the fact of Niepce being but half instructed, we owe the existence of photography. Had he been thoroughly master of the subject, he would have known, that in proposing to create images by the chemical action of light, he was confronting the gravest difficulties in the range of natural science. He would have recollected, that in England the illustrious Humphrey Davy, and the patient Wedgwood, after many fruitless trials, had declared the problem insoluble. The moment the audacious idea entered his mind, he would have dismissed it to repose with the reveries of Wilkins, or of Cyrus Bergerae, and with a sigh have passed on. But, luckily for science and the arts, Niepce was only half-learned. Difficulties, faintly discerned, did not appal him: he could not foresee that an experiment, in appearance so simple, would cost him twenty years of close research, and that death would surprise him, ere he could reap the just reward of his labours. Niepce made his first discovery in the beginning of 1814. The principle he acted on was very simple. He knew, what all painters know, that a certain black resinous substance, the bitumen of Judæa, when exposed to the action of the light, bleaches quickly: he knew, what all chemists know, that the greater number of the substances composed of silver, originally colourless, become black under the influence of light. Let us see the practical use he made of these properties. Having transparent, he laid it on a tin plate covered with a layer varnished the back of an engraving, in order to render it of bitumen. The dark parts of the engraving arrested the luminous rays, while the white allowed them to pass freely. Thus the rays traversing the transparent portions of the paper, whitened the bitumen on the metallic plate; and so was obtained a faithful image of the print, preserving the lights and shadows in their natural position. Then by plunging the plate into essence of lavender, the portions of bitumen unimpressed by the light were dissolved, and the image secured from the sun's ulterior action. But the photogenic copying of engravings was merely The end which imparts to the silver an exquisite sensibility to light. a prelude to more interesting experiments. to be attained was, the reproduction of images from the camera obscura. Most of our readers know that this is a sort of box closed on all sides, into which light is admitted through a small orifice. The rays emanating from objects without, cross each other at the entrance, and produce a miniature representation of these objects. To aid this effect a converging lens is placed in the orifice. Thus, in fact, is produced an artificial eye; and now the object was to fix the ephemeral images painted, so to speak, on its retina. In 1824, Niepce solved this problem. On a sheet of plated copper he placed a layer of bitumen of Judæa. This he arranged in the camera, so as to receive on its surface the image transmitted through the lens. After a considerable time, the light acted on the substance; by plunging it then into a mixture of essence of lavender and petroleum, the portions of the bitumen struck by the rays remained intact, while the others were rapidly dissolved. Thus was obtained a picture, in which the lights were formed by the whitened part of the bitumen, the shades by the denuded surface of the metal, and the half-tints by the portions on which the dissolving agent had taken a partial effect. These pictures, however, were but faint; Niepce tried to strengthen them by exposing the plate to the spontaneous evaporation of iodine, or the vapours emanating from sulphuret of potash, with the view of producing a dark ground, which would throw out the lines more boldly. But in this his success was incomplete. The chief defect of the process consisted in the length of time which was required to impress the bitumen. Ten hours it must be exposed ere the image was produced; and during this interval the advancing sun displaced the lights and shadows, so that the result was far from satisfactory. In its principle, however, the photographic problem was resolved. At this time there lived in Paris, a man whose habitual occupation had led him to indulge in analogous researches. This was M. Daguerre. He had commenced his career as a painter of theatrical scenery, and had acquired much reputation by inventing the Diorama. He produced a remarkable optical illusion, by representing on the same canvas two different scenes, which, by an artifice in the arrangement of the lights, appeared alternately to the spectators. Reflections on the combination of light, naturally suggested to M. Daguerre the possibility of fixing the images in the camera obscura; but it is certain that, despite his persevering efforts, he had not yet made any discovery, when by chance he learned, that in the corner of a remote province, there lived a man who had solved this problem. It was in January, 1826, that M. Daguerre heard this news in the shop of a Paris optician, the friend and confidant of Niepce. He immediately wrote to the latter, and an active correspondence between them ensued, and continued during four years. At the end of that period, Niepce proposed to Daguerre that they should enter into partnership for perfecting the invention; and a deed being signed by both, Niepce communicated to his friend all the facts relative to photography. Once fully initiated into the discovery, Daguerre applied himself to perfect it. He made some alterations in the substance used for coating the metallic plate, with a view to lessen the time requisite for obtaining an impression, but without much success; while the picture still continued liable to be effaced. This was the first step towards the entire solution of a problem, which had already cost twenty years of diligent research. But it was not reserved for the inventor to reap the fruit of his labours. Niepce, aged sixty-three, died at Châlons, poor and unknown, on the 5th of July, 1833. Left to pursue his researches alone, M. Daguerre prosecuted them with ardour. In five years from the death of Niepce he had matured the admirable process, which has entitled him to give his name to a new science. At the Session of the Academy of Sciences in Paris, on the 7th of January, 1839, M. Arago for the first time introduced the Daguerreotype to public notice. The sensation it caused was marvellous, and may be estimated by the fact, that in six months afterwards the French Government, desirous that so important an invention should become public property, determined to purchase it, and settled on M. Daguerre a pension of 6000 francs, and another of 4000 on the son of Niepce. We will now give a brief description of the photographic process adopted by M. Daguerre. A plate of silvered copper is exposed for some minutes to the vapours of iodine, which cover it with a thin acid exceedingly susceptible of impressions from the rays of light. It is then placed in the focus of the camera obscura, and receives on its surface the image formed by the lens of the instrument. Light has the property of decomposing the iodide of silver; consequently that coating is dissolved on the enlightened parts of the picture, the dark portions remain unchanged, aud the halftints are influenced according to the degree of their illumination. When removed from the camera, no picture is visible on the plate: it preserves an uniform shade of gold. It is then placed in a little box, and slightly heated by liquid mercury contained in a reservoir at the bottom of the box. The vapours of the mercury speedily condense on the metallic surface; but not uniformly. They take effect only on the part of the iodide of silver which has been chemically decomposed by light. It therefore results, that the enlightened portions are marked by a brilliant varnish of mercury, and the shades by the unchanged surface of the silver. Then from the plate starts out suddenly a picture of unrivalled perfection, seeming as if traced by some magic pencil. But this is not all. The plate is still impregnated with iodide of silver, and if allowed to remain so, would quickly become black, under atmospheric influence. It is therefore plunged into a solution of the hyposulphate of soda, which has the property of decomposing iodide of silver. After undergoing this last process, the picture is complete, and may be exposed with impunity to the most intense light. Many defects, however, still existed. There was a disagreeable spottiness, and often faintness in the impression; and living objects could not be represented, because an exposure during at least a quarter of an hour to an intensely brilliant light was requisite. M. C. Chevalier, a French optician, conceived the idea of employing for the object glass of the camera, a double achromatic lens, which possessed the treble advantage of shortening the focus in order to concentrate on the plate a great quantity of light, of enlarging the field of view, and of varying at pleasure the focal distance. By this means the period of exposure was reduced to two or three minutes. Yet it was not until 1841, that this desideratum was fully obtained. M. Claudet, a French artist, living in We have seen that before his association with Daguerre, London, and employed as an agent by M. Daguerre, disNiepce had tried to strengthen the impressions by sul-covered in that year the properties of accelerating subphurous exhalations, or vapours of iodine. Now it stances. In photography this name is bestowed on cerhappened one day, that a spoon, left by accident on a tain compounds, which, when applied to a plate preplate of iodized silver, marked its impress on it under viously iodized, greatly enhance its sensibility to light. the action of the surrounding light. The hint was not In themselves these substances are not photogenic, that lost. For resinous substances was substituted iodine, is to say, that, employed alone, they will not form a combination capable of being chemically influenced by light; but when applied to an iodized plate, they communicate to it the property of receiving a vivid impression in a few seconds. The compounds capable of thus stimulating iodine are extremely numerous. Amongst the most active we may mention-vapour of bromine, iodide of bromine, bromoform, chloride of sulphur, chlorine gas, and many others. With the aid of chlorine acid, admirable impressions have been obtained in a quarter of a second. This discovery of accelerating substances has conferred on the Daguerreotype the power of taking portraits. Hitherto it was impossible to support with open eyes the condensed brilliancy of the solar rays; and even with closed optics, when prolonged for some minutes, it was found sufficiently unpleasant. Some intrepid amateurs, indeed, made the attempt, but the success was less than their courage deserved. The likenesses produced were contracted, cadaverous, and adapted to shock the personal vanity of even the most stoical philosopher. But by the assistance of an accelerating substance, the physiognomy can be seized in a second, and reproduced with all that mobility of expression, which constitutes the sign and seal of life. Then indeed was realized the ancient dream of the German fabulist :-" A lover, wishing to leave with his mistress a durable souvenir, looked at a mirror, and bestowed it on her then, with his image fixed within it." Confirming the impression was the next point to be gained. The effect of the picture was greatly spoiled by the reflecting quality of the metallic plate; besides the contrast of tone between the mercury and the silver was but feeble. Added to this, the image was so delicate, that the finest pencil passing over its surface entirely effaced it. M. Fizeau found a remedy for all these defects, by covering the picture with a thin layer of gold. He moistened the surface of the plate with a solution of , chloride of gold mixed with hyposulphate of soda, and slightly warmed it. The plate was immediately covered with a clear varnish of metallic gold; and while this served to darken the silver, which our readers will remember formed the shades of the picture, and prevented its reflecting; it formed with the mercury a clear white amalgam thus greatly heightening the effect of the lights. As to the resistance which a picture thus treated offers to the effacing effects of friction, it is explained by the fact, that the mercury, whose infinitesimal globules adhered erewhile but feebly to the plate, is now covered by an uniform sheet of gold, which despite its extreme tenuity, adheres to the plate by virtue of its chemical action. Pictures thus fixed may be placed in a portfolio, and suffer much less from friction than an ordinary pencil drawing. We will now recapitulate the consecutive series of operations employed at the present day to obtain a proof from the daguerreotype :-Exposure of the metallic plate to the vapours of iodine, spontaneously disengaged by the ordinary atmosphere; exposure to the vapours exhaled by some accelerating substance; exposure to the action of light in the camera obscura; exposure to mercurial vapours, in order to make the image appear; moistening the plate with a solution of hyposulphate of soda, to carry off the superfluous iodide of silver-and finally fixing the whole with chloride of gold. Other sciences have stepped in to the aid of photography; and amongst them, the first place must be given to galvanoplasty. sulphate of copper, placing beneath the liquid a daguerreotyped picture, the copper produced by the decomposition of the salt, will by degrees deposit itself on the plate, and filling up the slight inequalities of the surface, at the end of twenty-four hours we shall have a sheet of copper, on which the photographic design will be reproduced with perfect fidelity. "I cannot describe," writes M. C. Chevalier, "the surprise that I felt, when I first succeeded in reproducing a photographic proof by means of galvanism. Seeking one day some object proper to be placed within the galvanoplastic apparatus, and not having anything else at hand, I resolved to sacrifice a small photographic proof, thinking I should obtain instead, only a plain leaf of copper. The following day, in the presence of M. M. Richoux and Bramer, I detached the two plates, and found on the copper a perfect fac-simile of the photographic picture. I may add, that the latter was totally uninjured." If a daguerreotyped plate be placed in a solution of gold, and the poles of a weak voltaic pile be then introduced into the liquid, the plate in a few moments becomes covered with a thin varnish of gold. This metallic pellicle conveys a variety of rich tints to the picture, from light green to deep yellow. A solution of copper used in the same way gives rose-coloured hues. Silver has been tried, but while it bestows softness on the design, it robs it of some of its vigour. The idea of transforming photographic sheets into plates for the use of engravers, was so natural, that from the commencement of Daguerre's experiments, many persons tried to effect it. M. Fizeau was the first who thoroughly succeeded. His mode of proceeding was briefly as follows: he began by submitting the plate to the action of some slight acid, which would affect the silver, that is to say, the black parts of the picture, without touching the mercury, which forms the lights. He thus obtained a plate, perfectly, but very superficially engraved. Now, the essential condition of a good engraving, is to have the lines deeply cut; for if the hollows be too shallow, the particles of ink, when taking off the impression, overflow them, and the print is necessarily imperfect. In order therefore to deepen the lines, the plate is rubbed with oil, which rests in the cavities, and does not affect the projecting parts. Then the plate is gilded by the aid of the voltaic pile. The gold deposits itself on the prominent portions, and does not penetrate into the oil-filled hollows. These can afterwards be cleaned and made as deep as the artist pleases, by the use of aquafortis, for the gold-covered parts are secure from the action of the acid. Silver, being a soft metal, is but ill adapted for engraving on: the iodized plate is therefore in the first instance covered with a layer of copper by means of the galvanoplastic process. An Englishman, Mr. Grove, has succeeded in engraving photographic proofs by the sole action of an electric current. If a daguerreotyped picture be attached to the negative pole of a voltaic pile, charged with a liquid slightly acid, placing at the positive pole a sheet of platina, the acid attacks the silver of the plate, and hollows out the dark parts of the picture. A plate thus treated can scarcely be distinguished from a photographic proof. When examined under a magnifying-glass, it displays all the delicate details of the luminous impression. Thus, a picture painted by light is engraved by electricity. How marvellous the discoveries which each day brings forth! The mysterious powers of Nature are conquered, and become obedient vassals. The trembling hand, the uncertain eye, the imperfect implement of the artist, are This is a recent invention, which consists in producing by the action of electricity, a metallic deposit on the sur-replaced by the resistless foices of natural agents. face of various bodies, and especially of other metals. By decomposing certain salts with the voltaic pile, copper may with economy be plated on silver, gold on steel, silver on tin, platina on iron, &c. If, for example, we submit to the action of an electric current a solution of MAN is a fleeting paradox, which the fulness of time alone can explain; a living enigma, of which the solution will be found in death. THE DAISY. ALL hai!! to the fairest star of the earth, The daisy, beloved of old; So modest and lowly it comes to its birth When winds whistle hollow and cold. In its beauty it shines on the mountain's side, Where the furze and the heather-blooms glow; And it glitters in sunshine, and grows in its pride, Where the water-brooks tumble and flow. It glows on the hedgebank and in the green brake, In the clefts o' the rock, where it gleams in the wake There it preaches its homilies, better than book To gaze on the daisy, and drink in its store For the heart of the poet was warmed into love And his soul was illumined with light from above So the bard of the north-the hero of toil- For it taught him that trouble, and sorrow, and fear, Then I'll cherish the daisy, the daisy for me, 'Tis the flower of home, and 'twill blossom again, Bringing promise of sunshine and joy in its train, LUCY DEAN; J. S. HIBBerd. THE NOBLE NEEDLEWOMAN. BY SILVERPEN. (Concluded from page 379.) It was well that the miners had followed brave Ben's example in house-building, for, in about a month, thirty courtships had proceeded so harmoniously and so prosperously, as to call into force the holy offices of one of the gentlemen lately from Adelaide; and, accordingly, on the Sunday morning before his departure, the agent having fortunately forwarded to Elliott a sufficient amount of wedding rings, and a sort of rude chapel having been now for some time built, this good priest performed the onerous duty of saying thirty marriage services in one,-and prayed that olive branches might spring up around the table of this mighty land, heaped up with corn, with oil, with wine. These marriages were so prosperous in result, and became so noised far and wide, by the agency of the stockmen, that Lucy's long-held intention was half assisted into accomplishment. She, therefore, now lost no time in seeking, though miles away across the plains, or over the adjacent chain of hills, those hordes of men who wrought at the lead and copper mines of South Australia. Sometimes her journey occupied weeks; sometimes she was accompanied by Elliott or Holdon; but oftener, when the journey was remote, by some of the natives, who, in return for kindness done them by her hand, protected her as a sacred thing. She told these miners of the good done by those who worked under Elliott; that their small contributions (comparatively to their earnings) had brought to them, from a noble land, honest usefu! wives; she told them, that in that land were countless women worthy to be such, who, setting aside hunger and misery, and destitution, drooped and pined away, and died, because their natural mission had been unaccomplished; she told them of sterility and barrenness, where both were negatives against the hand of nature; she said, "here is land where food rots, where verdant pathways are untrod, where sweet winds soothe no ear, nor waft no cheek, where cradles rock not, and where baby hands pluck not one of myriad-painted flowers; and yet where you, as men, pine in mournful solitude,no voice to cheer you, no hand to raise you, no tear to drop for you, nothing to make you less sensual, or bring you nearer Heaven! And yet your money lies unusedmuch of it-so spare a little, and we will call it a HUMAN BRIDGE TAX ; say sixpence a week each man-not much alone--but vast as a whole; for it will dry countless eyes, and make human mothers out of those whose only office yet has been to weep!" Not contented with this appeal to one class of men alone, she wrote and sent letters to the newspapers of Adelaide, Port Philip, Melbourne, and Sydney; she ap pealed to the Colonial Government, and to the wealthy and industrious of her own sex, and so successfully, as soon to bring large aggregate sums into the colonial banks of these far-apart towns. This was accomplished in one year's time from the time of commencement; and now she prepared for a voyage to her own country, there to whisper to the dear ear and heart of genius, what woman's promise unto woman yet shall be. None liked her to go; but her slightest will was a law. It was now the most glorious portion of the Australian spring, and the night before her departure, there rode into the settlement a gentleman, unattended except by his servant, and two natives, who had served as guides. He sought Elliott, made known his name as Minwaring, and then saw Lucy at his own request alone. He had been cultivating, he told her, a very large tract of park-like country, lying between Sydney and Bateman Bay, on the eastern coast of Australia, that he held an official appointment, direct from the colonists themselves, and was greatly interested in the subject of emigration. That he had seen her several letters to the colonists in Sydney, Port Philip, and Melbourne papers; that he instantly recollected her name, as the person of whom Miss Austen had spoken of, so nobly in his presence, to Mr. Fortescue, and for whom he himself had written recommendatory letters. That, making inquiry, he had found this to be really the fact--he had lost no time in making the coast voyage from Sydney to Adelaide, that he had travelled from thence across the country by the dray-route, and now sought her, to see if he could aid her in any way relating to the object of her letters. "No, Sir, thank you," replied Lucy, "by the time I reach Adelaide, the collected sum will be placed in the bank there to Miss Austen's account; and to her I shail bear the bills, untrammeled by one condition. I am but her servant, yet I will be a truthful one, though I believe the sum is destined to be divided into three portions; one of which will be offered to such populated parishes, as will consent each one to give an outfit to a certain number of pauper females; a second will be applied to the partially free emigration of middle class women, such as governesses, and the needy daughters of professional men; and the third will be applied to the establishment of a permanent school, near London, for the instruction of females of the lower class, who have asked the boon of free, or, partially free emigration." This conversation touching Mary Austen, once com H menced, proved a fertile and lengthened one; and before Elliott entered to bid his guest to supper, Lucy was possessor of a secret destined to be of importance. There was little rest for that usually strong, self-reliant heart that night, for a few hours would separate her from the endeared scene of her happiest years. It was at the first blush of the sun that Lucy rose, and dressing, went forth into the valley. Here stealing in the shadows of the hills before even the miners were astir, and gaining the summit of a lovely acclivity looking towards the limitless plains, she sat down upon the fragrant turf, which, enriched by the opening glory of the early sun, was tinged with softest, yet with glorious light. And here so sitting, all her foregone life passed in review before her like a continuous picture; her sorrows about Nelly, the death of Lawrence, and her mother-her breadless home, and then that night of uttermost despair when she had sheltered poor Sweet in the tattered apron; and from that hour, hope growing, she tracked it onward, step by step, one bright and shining face ever being a portion of it; till, like her eyes, her soul went onward with the light she tracked, and resting on the far-up mountain crags, were one within the glory settled there. How long she rested here she scarcely knew; how long her tears rained down she could not tell; but at last her hands were taken both together, and looking, she found Elliott sitting by her side. She did not wonderthere had been much in his manner, for many months, that had prepared her for this. "What is said at last proves more than what is said at first," he spoke in his old way, "and we have acted together too long in peace, in unanimity, and trust, to misunderstand one another now-so let the image of a pure and earnest mother fade somewhat in the light of one, who of all others, will make a pure and earnest wife. We want no courtship, or what people call one-ours has been one, continuous from the beginning-we will get married, Lucy, at Adelaide." "I answer as frankly," said Lucy, "that I will be your wife, but not till I return. The tie I leave behind might take away some portion of the duty and the truth I owe to one, but for whom, Elliott, I should have never seen this land, or you, or anything of good or gladness. But I will be as much to you in heart as if we were married at this minute, and when I land at Sydney, where with Mr. Minwaring, you will meet me on my return, I will become your wife that day." Elliott could not shake her resolution, and only gained her consent to his accompanying her to Adelaide with some difficulty. It was a sorrowful leave-taking, particularly of tiny Nelly, but she was left in loving, trusty hands; and the journey to Adelaide accomplished, Lucy Dean embarked for England in less than a week after, bearing with her the respect and good will of thousands of the colonists. The voyage, though long, was quicker than it usually is by several days; and landing at Liverpool, she lost no time in hastening onward to town, and from thence to the old village and the old house where she supposed Mary yet lived, for there it was she had directed her last letters. To her consternation, however, Mary was not there. 'Why, poor dear heart," spoke the mistress of the house, "her affairs have been a bit straitened of late, owing to the expenses of the Emigrant School, and the loss of money in the hands of a bookseller. I wanted her to stop and trust to better times, but she wouldn'tshe was always so particular about money matters-so she moved, some six months since, to a small lodging in Camden Town, but I'll give you her direction." "And her servant my sister, I mean," asked Lucy. Why the best and faithfulest of little servants, mistress ever had, yet, for all that, I wanted Miss Austen to part with her, rather than leave her old home, but she would not; nothing I could say could persuade her." Lucy was not long in riding to town, or in finding out where Miss Austen lived--she gave her name at the door, but went up stairs unannounced, and knocking, went in at once, and beheld Mary-not changed in any one respect since she had last seen her—but who, with the same pure, glad look beaming on her face, sat reading beside a table whilst no great way off, busy with her needle, was one whom Mary at a glance knew to be Nelly. But she could not speak to her, would not see her, only the one bright nature who was so true, so noble. She pressed forward, knelt beside Mary, and bending down her head, could only utter with convulsed respiration, "Madam, I am Lucy Dean." Neither could speak, nor did one or other move till Lucy raised up her face to look upon that other face, as children kneeling by their mother's side. But this bright nature, noble in the moment of her joy, lifted one of her hands away, pressed something to her knee, drew it down even to the side of Lucy, and then passing her arms around what thus so knelt together, said, Be one, for you are Sisters." Passionately weeping, both women yet knelt on. "Brave woman," at last said Mary tenderly to Lucy, as the purest reward that I can give you, let me, before one other word is spoken, tell you that Nelly has proved, by every action of her life, how noble here on earth can be our self-redemptions; and in saying that I love her, let it be more than sufficient absolution in your eye." I need not paint the sequel to this picture. Hours and hours Lucy and Mary talked. "And why not, Madam," said Lucy, "let me, though so far away, know about your strait, or if not, O'Flanagan or Mr. Fortescue?" "I can beg for others," replied Mary, "but not for myself. Besides, Mr, Fortescue so kindly helped me in the matter of the emigration school, that I could not, with grace, ask him again; and latterly he has been in rapidly declining health, so much so, that O'Flanagan now rarely stirs abroad." In two days Mary was comfortably settled in her old home, enriched by many comforts, through the care of Lucy. This duty performed, Lucy went and saw the old bird-fancier, whose almost first word was concerning the family of the Sweets; and when he heard that they had multiplied to a prodigious extent, he muttered something about" need of edication," and "popular airs," took an "egg" out of the veritable "bird's-nest," looked astoundingly for a Twiddlesing to look, and finished by saying, 'he should certainly think about it." Her visit to O'Flanagan was of equal interest, the old man weeping and laughing between whiles, for Robert Fortescue was rapidly turning the last leaf of Life's great book. He was, however, yet perfectly sensible, and O'Flanagan not only promised to tell him of Lucy's return, but to read to him the letters she had brought him from Mr. Minwaring. About a week from this date, a carriage was sent for Mary and Lucy, and going together, they were admitted into the old lawyer's sick room. He was propped up in bed, yet he welcomed them with interest and joy. "I have lived," he said, "to some purpose, in thus living to see women taking an interest in actual life, particularly in relation to the amelioration of the lot of their own sex. So be not baffled, but bear onward. Return with Lucy to her adopted country, Mary Austen, and marry Mr. Minwaring; he says he has loved you from the hour he first saw you in my old study, and therefore to you both I leave my entire fortune, having executed a will to that effect, with the exception of a handsome legacy to Patrick O'Flanagan, whom it is my desire should accompany you to Australia; and smaller ones to two old men named Twiddlesing and Noseby, the one a |