business. Hence, it is no day-dream to
predict that, before long, collections of
microscopic objects will publicly enter the lists
with other articles of virtù. Choice specimens
of invisibilities will rise to high fancy
prices,—especially after their preparers are
dead. As we treasure cabinet-pictures by
Teniers or the Breughels, so shall we set an
exalted value on charming bits of still-life
from the studios of Amadio or Stevens, on
insect-portraits by Topping, on botanical
groups by Bourgogne the Elder, and on other
works by anonymous artists, whose names,
though not their productions, still remain
unknown to fame. We shall have
connoisseurs, fanciers, and collectors of
microscopic objects, with all the peculiarities of the
genus. Indeed, I might say we have them
already in the adolescent stage of their
growth. But, one of these days, as my readers
who live long enough will see, beautiful
preparations by first-rate hands will pass
through the same course of destiny as
illuminated missals, majolica earthenware,
Benvenuto Cellini carvings, and the like. Their
multitude, it is to be hoped, will prevent any
artificial reduction of their numbers, with the
view of increasing the value of those that are
left. Dutchmen with whom a rare tulip has
separated into a couple of bulbs, have crushed
one of them beneath their heel to render the
other a solitary specimen. Bibliomaniacs
have made a copy of a book unique, by
committing rival copies to the flames. The
Arabs are grand amateurs of red and white
piebald horses. "When you see a piebald
horse," they say, "buy it; if you cannot buy
it, steal it; if you cannot steal it, kill it." To
follow out the system (more to be honoured
in the breach than the observance), we
should have speculators buying up the
diatoms from Ichaboe guano, and causing
them to disappear as the substance itself
grows scarcer, and the present microscopic
preparations from it enter the list of works
by the "old masters."

Those who are in the habit of preparing
microscopic objects for the supply of the
public, very soon become aware of a, to them,
important fact,—that the greatest demand is
not, as might be supposed, from beginners,
and those to whom the manipulation necessary
might be thought too difficult, but that their
best customers are those who are best
acquainted with specimens, and with the difficulty
of so arranging them as most clearly to display
their specific form or characteristics. A short
time spent by an able manipulator will suffice
to arrange three or four specimens of the
same object, when hours and hours might be
fruitlessly wasted by another equally or better
qualified to observe and comment upon the
preparation when accurately arranged, but
incapable, from want of practice, of mounting
it to his satisfaction. In short, here, as
elsewhere, a division of labour is expedient
for the public good. An able microscopist
often discovers that his time is better spent
in making observations, and in recording
them, than in manipulation.

Therefore, if you are a real and earnest
student, the aid of a preparer will be absolutely
necessary to economise time, even
supposing you have the skill to make preparations
yourself. If you are an amateur,
playing with the microscope principally for
your amusement, you will have still less
time to dissect, embalm, and mount minute
objects—on the rule that busy people always
find more spare time for extra work than
comparatively idle ones. One motive, too,
for sending your object to a professional
artist, should be the communication to other
amateurs—the publication, as it were—of
rarities and novelties, by the agency of the
preparer. If you meet with anything new
and good, unless you are selfish and jealous,
you will send what you can spare to a
professional preparer. You may fairly expect
to receive similar favours in return; and a
slice, a pinch, or a tuft of a discovery, is
enough for yourself. The rest will serve to
give pleasure to others. It is true that very
many objects of interest, which only require
to be placed dry and uninjured between two
plates of glass, you may collect and mount
for yourself with perfect success, temporarily.
The scales and hairs of insects are comprised
in this class; gossamer threads, such as float
in the autumnal sunshine, furnish you, under
the microscope, with a tangled skein of silk
which would take a lifetime to unravel. But
objects stored without due and regular
preparation will not keep; they will shake
out from between your glasses, or the
dust will shake in, or they will be overrun
with threads of minute mouldiness. By
trusting the choicest to a skilled preparer,
you will preserve them indefinitely.

Anatomical preparations take high rank
among those sold for the microscope.
Perhaps the most interesting anatomical
phenomenon the microscope has to show, is the
circulation of the blood in the body of a
living animal; next to that wondrous sight,
is the intricate course and minute subdivision
of the capillary vessels which permeate
the several organs of living creatures.
To show these more visibly, they are injected
with colouring-matter reduced to the finest
possible state of division, which is mixed
with and suspended in, a smooth size or
gelatine. A brass syringe, constructed for
the purpose, is the forcing-pump employed to
cause the colouring-matter to penetrate
the vessels. Many precautions have to be
taken. Only a gentle force must be applied
to the piston at first, to be gradually
increased as the vessels become filled. A
simple mechanical arrangement has been
contrived, by which the operator is saved
the fatigue of maintaining with his hand this
regulated pressure. A sheep's or a pig's
kidney is a convenient organ for a beginner