“You now then understand what is meant by the spectral or accidental colour of a body:--But let us return to the subject of the Thaumatrope,” said Mr. Seymour. “Behold!” continued he, “the Trojan ships!” “Ay, ay, sure enough,” said the vicar; “but let me see, are their forms according to ancient authority? Very well indeed, Mr. Seymour. Very well; the poops have the bend so accurately described by Ovid and Virgil--‘_puppesque recurvæ_,’ as the poet has it. And there is the triton; but is its size in proportion to the vessel? Yes, sir, you are doubtless correct, the figure is generally represented of considerable magnitude on ancient medals; and Silius Italicus, if my memory serves me, alludes to the weight of the image having on some occasions contributed to the wreck of the vessel.” “Spin them round,” said Mr. Seymour. The vicar complied; exclaiming at the same moment, “‘_Vos ite solutæ. Ite deæ pelagi._’ They are positively converted into sea-nymphs. ‘_Mirabile monstrum!_’” cried Mr. Twaddleton. “Here is another classical device; the representation of Eurydice, as she fell lifeless at the moment Orpheus turned round to gaze on her,” said Mr. Seymour. “Charming! charming! I perceive that it is a copy from the splendid print of Didot in the Paris edition of Virgil.” “Turn it round, vicar.” “See! see! she revives, she opens her eyes, and throws her arms around the neck of her frantic lover: truly, Mr. Seymour, this is a most interesting toy,” said Mr. Twaddleton. Mr. Seymour here observed that he had written an epigram to accompany the subject they had just witnessed, and he trusted that he had given to it a classical _turn_. “By all means read it; the subject admits of much classical decoration,” observed the vicar. Louisa received the epigram from the hands of her father, and read as follows:-- “By _turning round_, ’tis said, that Orpheus lost his wife; Let him _turn round_ again, and she’ll _return_ to life.” It could not be expected that Mr. Twaddleton should have admired lines so burdened with puns; but he quietly observed, “I should have preferred a quotation from the fourth Georgic, so beautifully descriptive of the fable.” The next card that was presented for inspection exhibited the metamorphosis of Daphne into a laurel. As the figure revolved, the leaves were seen sprouting from her fingers, and her arms lengthening into branches. “Come now,” said Mr. Seymour, “let us exhibit the figure which has been designed at my request: the change which it will undergo during its revolution may, I trust, on some day be realised; I only regret that it is not in my power to give the vicar so good a _turn_.” “Really, if like Crambe, in Martinus Scriblerus, thou hadst a word for every day in the year, I should certainly say that you were this day under the dominion of the word _turn_.” “You know this resemblance?” said Mr. Seymour, as he showed the figure, painted on one side of the card, to his daughter.