From the AthenÆum.

We have not merely examined the description given by Mr. Long of his dry collodion process, but we have witnessed the results obtained by following carefully his directions. It appears to us that, by it, a collodion plate may be prepared at home, wrapped in paper, and packed in portmanteau; that we may journey to Rome or Venice, then place our plate in the camera obscura, and allow it for a few minutes to receive the luminous image; remove it in a dark room; re-pack it and trouble ourselves no more about it until our return to England; when, in the room in which it was prepared, we may witness the magic process of development, and rejoice that we have, without much labour, secured a picture of the Coliseum or of the Bridge of Sighs.

From the Journal of the Cambrian ArchÆological Association.

New Photographic Process.—Mr. Long, of the firm of Bland and Long, Opticians, Fleet Street, has recently put forth a valuable pamphlet, in the form of an essay on the dry collodion process. By means of this, plates prepared weeks beforehand may be exposed to objects, and then kept for weeks afterwards before they are developed, as he has proved it himself on the Continent. The advantage of this process to travellers, and especially to archÆologists, is immense; because hitherto the main drawback upon photography has been the trouble and expense of carrying chemicals, tents, &c. &c., besides the camera, with its lenses, to the scene of operation. Now, however, it will be sufficient to carry merely the camera, with a suitable supply of plates prepared according to this process. The observer can then, by merely exposing his plates, with the proper precautions, bag any number of views per diem, and on his return home can develop them—or have them developed—at leisure. If this process succeeds, it will have the effect of splitting photography into two distinct branches—the Æsthetic, and the practical. The former will fall to the share of the intelligent observer, the traveller, the man of taste, who will go and search for objects, combine them, or use them, under the most favourable Æsthetic circumstances, and then will carry them home to be handed over to the man of practice. Once in his hands, nothing will remain but to manipulate the plates according to the rules of photographic science, by means of all the best appliances that a well fitted laboratory can furnish. One branch will feed the other. One will be the department of observation, of search, of taste, of beauty; the other will be that of calm scientific development, of improvement, of preservation. One man will be like the artist who paints; the other like the artist who engraves. One will be like the author, the man who writes; the other like the printer, the man who perpetuates. We recommend members to enquire carefully about this new process; because if it becomes firmly established, any archÆologist moving about the Country may get views of churches, castles, cromlechs, meini-hirion, seals, &c. &c., usque ad satietatum—we had almost said ad nauseam; but that word can never be connected with archÆology! The upshot of this is,—"Read Mr. Long's pamphlet, and set up a portable camera with his prepared plates, as we intend doing ourselves!"

From the Liverpool and Manchester Photographic Journal.

We must advise all who are interested in dry processes to obtain Mr. Long's clearly written pamphlet. (Leader, July 15th, 1857.)

Extract from Proceedings of Charlton Photographic Society, October 8th, 1857. Paper by Mr. Hooper,—On the results of his experience in the practice of several Preservative Processes.

I commenced experimenting on the process of Mr. Long. The success I have met with from the first has convinced me that that process will ere long be generally adopted: the plates being easily and quickly prepared, and keeping well, is a great advantage.

Extract from Letter from G. R. Smith, Esq., to the Editor of the London Photographic Journal, Sept 21, 1857.

My tour of a fortnight's duration having ended, I returned to London, and began developing (the dry plates). To my great delight, I found all Mr. Long had said in favour of his process fully realized. Picture after picture (I took twenty-eight) came out with great beauty, and so far as the process is concerned, I have not had a single failure.

Mr. Long's Dry Collodion Process.

Letter from Robert Hunt, Esq., F.R.S., to the Editor of the London Photographic Journal, October, 1857.

6, Green's Row, Chelsea.

Sir,—It is due to Mr. Long that I should state what my experience has been with his dry collodion plates, and I feel much satisfaction in doing so, being enabled fully to confirm all that Mr. Smith has said respecting the dry plates prepared as he has described (Photo. Journ. Sept. 21). On the 26th of August, Mr. Long, at my request, furnished me with some of his dry collodion plates. Absence from London, and the press of official engagements, prevented my trying any experiments with those plates until the 30th of September. Although the weather was very unfavourable, the result was superior to my expectations. On the 7th of October, at four in the afternoon, when the sky was covered with clouds and the weather stormy, I exposed a plate in the camera obscura for ten minutes to the dark brick building, Chelsea Hospital. I enclose you a positive print from the result of this experiment. When we remember that the sensitive plate had been kept by me for a period of forty-two days, and then exposed under very unfavourable circumstances, I think you will admit that the result is satisfactory. I should not content myself with this trial, but that I am again compelled to leave London for a long period, and I shall have no other opportunity of testing these plates for this year. I feel convinced that the traveller might with perfect safety use plates which have been prepared for a month, and thus relieve himself from much labour and frequent annoyance, by the use of Mr. Long's process.

Robert Hunt.

From the Illustrated London News, January 9, 1858.

It is but a few years since, when we heard with surprise, and some incredulity, that light could be made to delineate images of external objects upon chemically prepared tablets placed in the camera obscura,—now photography stares us in the face at every corner,—that which was wonderful has become familiar,—that which was mysterious is singularly common.

In cities, we see glass houses, on at least one roof in every street,—in villages, caravans, with Brown and Jones, photographers, are regularly found,—on the hills we discover the tent, and in the valleys the camera,—by the river-side there is the mysterious head hidden in the dark curtains of a dark box,—and upon the sea-shore the tripod-stand is securely fixed in the sands, and a biped is evidently focusing for the next fine ocean wave,—the sketcher has fled to his own especial solitudes, and the photographer has usurped his place.

It has been said of the most recent photographic processes, as was well said of the octo-syllabic verse, that it possesses "unfortunate facilities." This is true in many respects of the positive collodion process, by which the myriads of sad reflections on humanity are perpetrated. Not so, however, is it with the negative process, by which alone we can multiply the beautiful things which the solar pencil traces with such fidelity. The labour attendant upon a photographic tour is great, and real enthusiasm alone carries the amateur forward. The camera obscura and the stand are a burden, and with the tent and chemical box, they become a real load. Then there is the uncertainty attendant upon the processes. We deal with the nicest chemical adjustments. The balance is arranged with caution for a certain set of conditions,—alter but one of these, and all goes wrong. We leave home in the morning, we work in the dark all day, and we return jaded at night, to find we have obtained—nothing.

Sensitive as the collodion process is, and charming as are the results, when all goes on successfully, it has not hitherto been a process which can be practised out of doors, without many extraordinary, expensive, and troublesome appliances.

It is, therefore, with very much satisfaction that we have watched the progress of the so-called "dry collodion processes." Nearly all the processes that have been published,—the "gelatine,"—the "oxymel,"—the "glycerine," and others,—have much that is excellent in them; but it appears to us that a dry collodion process devised by Mr. Long, of which he has recently published a description, is more simple and effective than any other. We have seen beautiful pictures obtained in Belgium upon plates prepared in England, and which plates were brought to this country again before the pictures were developed.

Any man may, previously to starting on his journey, prepare, or purchase prepared, a stock of glass plates. Armed with these and his camera, he may proceed to

or to that

and, resting on his way, he may adjust his camera and his plate, and in the few minutes which, under any circumstances, he would spend in observation, he secures a picture for future study,—a photograph to give him pleasure in the quiet of his home.

Mr. Long has published a little treatise, with which we head this article, and by following out the simple directions which he gives, all may succeed in obtaining the important desideratum,—a parcel of highly sensitive plates, which can be packed in paper and stowed away in a portmanteau, to be drawn out as occasion may require, to be returned again to the same package (without having any of the annoyances attendant upon a box of liquid chemicals), and a plate which can be kept with its dormant picture quite uninjured until the photographer, on his arrival home, at his perfect leisure, in his own operating room, can develop the photograph which he has obtained.

Such are the facilities offered by this improvement, that we may expect almost every traveller will avail himself of it, and thus secure for his own portfolio, and the portfolios of his friends, views of scenes hallowed by their historical association,—of ruins rendered sacred from the sacred memories which still wrap them in their shadows, as the mantling ivy clothes their crumbling walls.