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The photographic news
- Bandzählung
- 27.1883
- Erscheinungsdatum
- 1883
- Sprache
- Englisch
- Signatur
- F 135
- Vorlage
- Hochschule für Grafik und Buchkunst Leipzig
- Digitalisat
- Hochschule für Grafik und Buchkunst Leipzig
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- urn:nbn:de:bsz:14-db-id1780948042-188300004
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- http://digital.slub-dresden.de/id1780948042-18830000
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- oai:de:slub-dresden:db:id-1780948042-18830000
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- Bandzählung
- No. 1306, September 14, 1883
- Digitalisat
- SLUB Dresden
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Zeitschrift
The photographic news
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Band
Band 27.1883
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- Titelblatt Titelblatt I
- Register Index III
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Band
Band 27.1883
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- Titel
- The photographic news
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THE PHOTOGRAPHIC NEWS. September 14, 1883.] 585 which may be extended over thirteen years, the life of the Patent being fourteen, there can only be but] one opinion. As to the “ examiner,” it may be said that his success is somewhat doubtful, and no one probably will he more convinced of this than the examiner himself. The first part of his duty is apparently simple enough, since all he has to do is to see that the invention is fairly des cribed, that the title properly indicates its nature, and that the requisite papers and drawings comply with the prescribed form. But how can he tell whether an inven tion is “ fairly described,” unless he is thoroughly well acquainted with the science, art, or manufacture to which it relates ? In photography alone he must possess the knowledge of a specialist, and it must be the same with other industries. It is to be feared the post of the ex aminer will not prove a bed of roses. A correspondent, in answer to “ Only an Amateur,” recommends a back steering tricycle as being the best for carrying baggage. Tricycles as yet are not specially con structed for weight carrying, and some kind of home adap tation has to be devised if this is wanted. The “ backbone ” of (say) an " Excelsior ” can, by a little ingenuity, be readily fitted with an arrangement which would carry photographic apparatus. Low wheels are preferable to high ones. It is impossible to say the distance a tricycle so loaded would travel in a day, as so much depends upon the road, the weight and strength of the rider, and whether he is in “fit” condition; but allowing that everything i. favourable, twenty miles should be an easy day’s ride. How history is written. Last week died the most famous of our electric engineers, Cromwell Fleetwood Varley, the man who, among other valuable discoveries, first made long distance signalling possible, and showed us the way to “ localise” a fault in ocean cables, so that these, when defective at any spot, could be lifted and repaired. The Times, the Telegraph, the Athenxum, the Engineer, and other authorities, naturally gave an obituary notice, in which three facts were prominently set forth: that the late electrician was the son of John Varley, well-known as the father of water-colour painting ; that he was engineer-in- chief to the International Telegraph Company until the Post Office took over the telegraphs ; and, finally, that the deceased was a descendant of the great Protector, on his mother’s side. Like the description of the crab, as a red fish that walks backwards—which is a very good one, with the exception that the crab is no fish, it is not red, and does not walk backwards—so these three points in question appear accurate without having a vestige of truth. Thus the late Mr. Varley was not a son, but a nephew, of the renowned water-colour painter ; he ceased to be engineer of the International Company some time before Government took over the telegraphs, which just made the difference to him of a handsome pension which he would otherwise have received; and thirdly, although he was a descendant of Oliver Cromwell, it was through his father, and not his mother. None of these matters are of much importance, except as showing that our printed histories of scientific men are sometimes misleading. Some time ago it was suggested that the Corporation of London should provide a gallery for the reception of such works of art as might be presented for exhibition by those public spirited and generous citizens who felt so disposed. Of course it would be very easy to provide a gallery for pictures; the question is, would the pictures come ? Awaiting this happy period, the Corporation might meanwhile place in the Guildhall Library a complete collection of views of London in Autotype. Such pictures might perhaps not be of much interest to Londoners of the present day ; but they would be invaluable fifty or a hundred years hence. No doubt the taking and printing of a complete series of views would be expensive, but the price of a single banquet would more than pay the cost. The itinerant photographer is a mysterious personage. Generally, he is an individual who has failed in everything, and has taken up photography as a last resource, and, in nine cases out of ten, his ill-luck, or want of industry, pursues him. This appears to have been the case with Mr. Frank Walters, who was charged at the Brighton Police Court recently with stealing half a cake. Accord ing to Mr. Walter’s story, he had originally been a chemist in Boston, in America, but failed. Then he came to Eng land. and acted for two years as a chemist’s assistant in Bristol. Finally, he drifted into photography, and going into partnership with another man, they tramped the country until he (Walters) was taken ill, whereupon his partner bolted with the photographic apparatus. This story may be correct, but as Mr. Walters was found guilty of the theft of the sake, and was sentenced to a month’s hard labour, one would like to know his partner’s version. Itinerant photography, though profitable enough in the summer when the weather is fine, does not pay by itself. For some reason which we cannot explain, it has been found convenient to unite the profession of an acrobat with that of a photographer, and many who pose other people in the summer time, take to posing themselves in the winter. Occasionally, when business is slack in the “picture line,” some other profession, generally of an “ entertaining ” character, is worked in. An odd instance of this was brought the other day before a well known artist who is also an enthusiastic boating man. Spending a few days at Yarmouth, he was, to his surprise, accosted on the sands by a nigger. “ Didn’t expect to see you down here, sir,” said the nigger. “ Well, I might have expected to have seen you, though I don’t know you from Adam 1 ” ‘‘I know yon, sir ; seen you many and many a time on the tow path at Putney. 1 often takes likenesses there 1 ” and then it occurred to the artist that he had met the black faced gentleman in his capacity of a photographer. “ Saw you at Henley too, sir,” continued the loquacious nigger. “ Were you photographing then ? ” “ Bless you, no; don’t pay among the swells. I was pardners with another man in the nigger line. I’m ‘Spider,’ I am. Too many photos in the field for me at these seaside places, and singin’ a sight easier.” No doubt it is.
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