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Hotes, “A mania for platinum” was the excuse offered the other day on behalf of a poor fellow who helped himself to two dishes of that metal to which he had no legal right. There are many photographers now-a-days who are afflicted with the same mania, only their madness has more method in it. They are more addicted to depositing the salts of the precious metal upon their prints than they are to depositing the metal itself in their pockets. After quoting a recent note from these pages, which suggested that a factory for gelatine plates might, under certain conditions, be started in our Eastern Dependency, The Journal of the Photographic Society of India comments thereon as follows:— 1 ‘ Plate-making in India has been done, although only by enthusiastic amateurs, I believe. But there are several hill stations where an industry of the kind could be carried on with every advantage as re gards low temperature, and many stations on the plains of Northern India where the temperature in the mornings for six months in the year is low enough for anything. It has always been a matter of surprise to photographers out here that something of the kind has never been attempted. Labour is cheap, the native is easily taught, and soon be comes a deft workman under European supervision. The market is a large one, and accessible at reasonable cost, thanks to railways, water communication, and the post office ; so that a good brand of plate freshly made and moderately priced could command it. The only pro blems before the man of enterprise, therefore, are con nected with the manufacture itself, and, if he has the skill and money to surmount them, he might reap a rich reward in a well thought-out and skilfully conducted plate-making factory in India.” Summer is a’coming in. Yes, when autumn chills and falling leaves should gather round us and hedge us in, the cold weather suddenly disappears, the clouds which have hid the sun from us for so many weeks have retired into private life, and all is sunshine and brightness. At least, it is so at the time of writing, but who knows what the morrow may bring forth, and whether or not we are giving our readers a chance of laughing at us for such an optimistic opinion of such a sorry thing as English weather. The boys and girls have packed up their cameras and gone back to scoool, the clerk also with his photographic apparatus has resumed his desk work, and holidays generally are over. The clerk of the weather has the country all to himself, and, after deluging it with rain when the corn was lying about to spoil, he laughs in his sleeve and pours a flood of sunshine on the land. There is no more annoying thing to the tourist photo grapher than bad weather. Some few we know who like it, or say that they like it, and talk about the beauty of misty mornings, effects of atmosphere, and so on, but the average being prefers downright baking sunshine. A few clouds scudding across the sky are not unwelcome, but when those clouds are laid on for the sole interest of the umbrella industry, one gets tired of them, and longs for free trade. Amateurs in search of a novel photographic Christmas card with which to amuse their friends might take note of the result of an experiment with a black background, which is figured in La Nature of the 19th inst. The illustration represents a little girl drawing in a mail-cart an enlarged head of her brother, whose face wears a grotesque grin. The experimenters—MM. P. et F. Leprince—made use of an open doorway, the gloom of which served as a black background. The first exposure was made about seven metres from the little girl and the mail-cart, the second about one metre from the head of the lad. During the second exposure, a blackened cardboard with a hole in the centre was held some little distance in front of the lens, so that only the head was received on the plate. The effect is very droll, and is capable of many variations, which will suggest themselves to the ingenious amateur. Some of the London newspapers, in noticing the Photo graphic Exhibition, have made curious discoveries. One evening paper notes that “ a new era has been entered upon, and that the Royal Society (sic) is likely henceforth to take its proper position in the country.” What this means it is difficult to say, but at least the critic is premature in assuming that the Photographic Society has attained the honour which the president desires for it, namely a Royal charter. But the statement of this writer is not so remarkable as those of the representative of a weekly journal. The critic is effusive over the “long- desired improvements effected with regard to the reception and display of the exhibits,” and goes on to tell us that “ a new body, entitled the ‘ Management Committee,’ has been appointed, which has relieved the council of many of its functions.” Here is news indeed ! So far as we know, none of the members of the Society are aware of the existence of this management committee, but if such a body has been appointed, there will be no little curiosity expressed as to what the committee is supposed to manage, and of what functions it has relieved the council. The representative of the paper in question seems to have “ improvements ” on the brain, for further on he remarks, “ the opportunity was taken while refreshments were being indulged in, after the inspection of the gallery, to felicitate the president on the improvements which had been effected.” What improvements can these be? Surely the gentleman who is at once so vague and so enthusiastic can never have been at one of the Society’s exhibitions before. One would like to have had his criticisms on the photographs, but unfortunately he care fully avoids mentioning a single picture, reserving his praise for the automatic plate-cutting machine. No one would guess from this “notice ” that any photographs at all were exhibited. The German Emperor has done his duty to society and the world. Having grown a beard, he has, when it was deemed to have arrived at maturity, been photographed. It is remarked that the latest picture does not represent him in the best of tempers, but His Majesty is not so con ciliatory to photographers as is our Prince of Wales. It is said when the former was at Windsor, noticing that a photographer was making preparations with a camera for taking him, he turned his head away and obstinately refused to gratify the operator. We remember, on the other hand, seeing the Prince of Wales, when at Hastings in connection with some public function, give orders for his carriage to pause, so that a local photographer who had planted his camera on an elevation might have a fair shot.