"Permit not two conspicuous lights to shine With rival radiance in the same design; But yield to one alone the power to blaze, And spread th' extensive vigour of its rays; There where the noblest figures are displayed, Thence gild the distant parts and lessening fade; As fade the beams which Phoebus from the east Flings vivid forth to light the distant West, Gradual those vivid beams forget to shine, So gradual let thy pictured lights decline." * * * * * "LUX GRAPHICUS" ON THE WING. Dear Mr. Editor,--I have often troubled you with some of my ideas and opinions concerning the progress and status of photography, and you have pretty often transferred the same to the columns of the _Photographic News_, and troubled your readers in much the same manner. This time, however, I am going to tell you a secret--a family secret. They are always more curious, interesting, and important than other secrets, state secrets and Mr. McLachlan's photographic secret not excepted. But to my subject: "_The_ Secret." Well, dear Mr. Editor, you know that my vocations have been rather arduous for some time past, and I feel that a little relaxation from pressing cares and anxieties would be a great boon to me. You know, also, that I am a great lover of nature, almost a stickler for it, to the exclusion of _prejudicial art_. And now that the spring has come and winter has fled on the wings of the fieldfares and woodcocks--that's Thomas Hood's sentiment made seasonable--I fain would leave the pent-up city, where the colour of the sky can seldom be seen for the veil of yellow smoke which so constantly obscures it, and betake myself to the country, and inhale the fresh breezes of early spring; gladden my heart and eyes with a sight of the bright blue sky, the glistening snowdrops and glowing yellow crocuses, and regale my ears and soul with the rich notes of the thrush and blackbird, and the earliest song of the lark at the gates of heaven.