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January 9, 1891.] THE PHOTOGRAPHIC NEWS. 27 is, we are told., “adapted for use by the mercantile marine, by lighthouses, signal, coast-guard, telegraph, and other stations, and for the use of lightships.” The idea is simple, and, we should say, most effective if properly carried out. Briefly described, it comprises a sail rigged up at any required angle above the deck to act as a screen or sheet, and an optical lantern, by which the images of certain letters—cut out stencil fashion from thin metal, and acting as lantern slides— can be projected. It is obvious that in this way the operator, if possessed of a complete alphabet of stencilled letters and numerals, can quickly cause their enlarged images to spell out any message which may be required. A lime-light or electric arc lamp would be the best form of luminant to employ, but on dark nights an oil lamp would answer the purpose ; for the cut out letters transmit a far larger amount of light than any device upon glass, as anyone accustomed to lantern experi ments well knows. The weak part of the system seems to lie in the ready way in which anyone can decipher signals which are meant for others. In this respect it falls behind the older method of signalling by means of long and short flashes which at present is in use in our navy. Still, the system is an ingenious one, and re flects credit upon its inventor, Mr. John W. Hayward, of Astor House, New York City. The brightness of a stencilled figure as opposed to one prepared in the usual way on glass, was well shown in Mr. Beale’s choreutoscope, which, we may remind our readers, is an instrument for projecting upon a screen a series of figures so rapidly following one another as to give the idea of movement, as in the case of the better-known zoetrope. One of the designs used in the instrument was a dancing skeleton, a device which admitted of being prepared as a stencil in thin brass. By use of such a stencil, a friend of ours—who was fond of practical jokes—cast the image of a skeleton upon the white side of a house near his own, much to the consternation of passers-by. The apparently dancing figure was about forty feet high, and it required a comparatively feeble light to project it that size. His little joke was only carried on for a few minutes, for the crowd which quickly assembled proved to be inconvenient, and very difficult to disperse. A matter has been lately commented upon which will interest those who believe in the great future which lies before the optical lantern as an educational instrument. Of course, we all know that for some years it has been more or less used in colleges and schools, but that a recently appointed professor at Queen’s College, Manchester, should announce his intention of illustrating a series of lectures on the British poets in the same popular manner is indeed a new departure. For our part we hail the news with delight, for we have long held that whatever be the subject of a lecture, it should be made as attractive as possible by the help of illustrations, experimental or pictorial. The difficulty in the case of such a subject as poetry will be to find pictures of a sufficiently good type for the purpose; copies from living models might certainly be arranged, but both models and those who group them must be selected with care, for the ridiculous is always within dangerous proximity of the sublime. Whatever advantages “ process ’’ work has over wood engraving, there is in it one distinct inconvenience result ing from want of care which, when seen in the finished print, makes the artist feel inclined to tear his hair, and retire from public gaze for at least a month. The inconvenience in question is caused by the care lessness of the workman who mounts the block, and is generally in evidence in the place where it is most ob jectionable. We allude to the “printing up” of the nails which secure the plate to the block. When this happens, the nail almost invariably comes in the centre of the forehead, making the person look as if he had been crucified; or by the side of his nose, suggesting that nature had blessed him with an enormous wart. Why these nails persist in making themselves thus prominent is one of those things which no artist can understand. He can only put it down to pure “ cussedness ” on the part of the nail. The death of Mr. Charles Keene, the well-known Punch artist, is announced. One of the features of Mr. Keene’s drawings was what might be called a photographic quality. Unlike most comic draughtsmen, who are quite contented with two or three types upon which they ring the changes, Mr. Keene was laboriously exact in his sketches of character. He was continually going to nature for his bits of life ; but we fancy that, unlike the photographic camera, he had not the power of seizing rapidly an expression ; hence his range was somewhat limited. His work had not appeared in the pages of Punch for some months before his death, owing to the lingering illness which terminated fatally. Punch has been fortunate to secure a draughtsman of considerable original power to follow him in the person of Mr. Reed, the son of Sir Edward Reed, the late chief constructor of the Navy. When Father Damien died, a whole host of news- papers which published his portrait was very neatly trapped. The only picture of Damien in existence was a photograph, not from life, b it, as it turned out to be, from a drawing. When the philanthropist died, photographs were bought, copied, and published in the usual way. Directly after publication, however, the man who made the drawing came down heavily upon the proprietor of each newspaper who had in fringed his copyright. He imposed his own terms —which in one case amounted to as much as £50— and the money was paid, because it was cheaper to pay even £50 than go to law with the certainty of being defeated.