ears.

Such, then, was the method which I proposed to try again, and to
endeavour, as before, to trace with my pencil the outlines of the scenery
depicted on the paper. And this led me to reflect on the inimitable
beauty of the pictures of nature's painting which the glass lens of the
Camera throws upon the paper in its focus--fairy pictures, creations of a
moment, and destined as rapidly to fade away.

It was during these thoughts that the idea occurred to me{~HORIZONTAL ELLIPSIS~}how charming it
would be if it were possible to cause these natural images to imprint
themselves durably, and remain fixed upon the paper!

And why should it not be possible? I asked myself.

The picture, divested of the ideas which accompany it, and considered only
in its ultimate nature, is but a succession or variety of stronger lights
thrown upon one part of the paper, and of deeper shadows on another. Now
Light, where it exists, can exert an action, and, in certain
circumstances, does exert one sufficient to cause changes in material
bodies. Suppose, then, such an action could be exerted on the paper; and
suppose the paper could be visibly changed by it. In that case surely
some effect must result having a general resemblance to the cause which
produced it: so that the variegated scene of light and shade might leave
its image or impression behind, stronger or weaker on different parts of
the paper according to the strength or weakness of the light which had
acted there.

Such was the idea that came into my mind. Whether it had ever occurred to
me before amid floating philosophic visions, I know not, though I rather
think it must have done so, because on this occasion it struck me so
forcibly. I was then a wanderer in classic Italy, and, of course, unable
to commence an inquiry of so much difficulty: but, lest the thought should
again escape me between that time and my return to England, I made a
careful note of it in writing, and also of such experiments as I thought
would be most likely to realize it, if it were possible.

And since, according to chemical writers, the nitrate of silver is a
substance peculiarly sensitive to the action of light, I resolved to make
a trial of it, in the first instance, whenever occasion permitted on my
return to England.

But although I knew the fact from chemical books, that nitrate of silver
was changed or decomposed by Light, still I had never seen the experiment
tried, and therefore I ha