Letter from Miss Indigo
when I was describing a resinous matter obtained by precipitation, she shook her head and exclaimed, "Impossible, child, nothing is ever gotten by precipations; your poor dear father was always telling you not to do things in such a violent hurry." - Upon my explaining to a fried that antimony derived its name from having been indulged in too freely by some monks, she cried "There, my dear, you must be mistaken, for monks, you know, can have nothing to do with matrimony;" and once when the professor showed me a lump of mineral earth, and I enquired whether it was friable, she ejaculated "Friable, you simpleton! no, nor boilable neither; why it isn't good to eat." These are but few specimens of her lamentable ignorance; in point of acute misapprehension she exceeds even Mrs. Malprop herself, and you cannot conceive the painful humiliation to which I am constantly subjected by these exposures.
As to experiements, I have not yet ventured upon many, for having occasioned a small solution of continuity in the skin of my forefinger by an accidental incision, I have been obliged to apply a stypic secured by a ligature. By placing some butter, however, in a temperature of 96, I suceeded in reducing it to a deliquescent state; and by the refrigerating process, I believe I have reconverted it into a gelatine, but that it refuses to coagulate, owing , doubtless, to some defect in the apparatus. You are aware that a phosphorescent light emanates from several species of fish in an incipent state of putrefaction, to which has been attributed the iridescent appearance of the sea at certain seasons. For the illustration of this curious property, I horaded a mackarel in a closet for several days, and it was already beginning to be most interestingly luminous, when mamma, who had for some time been complaining of a horrid stench in the house, discovered my hidden treasure, and ordered the servant to toss it on a dunghill, observing that she expected sooner or later to be poisoned alive by my nasty nonsense. Mamma has no nose for experimental philosophy; no more have I, you will say, for yesterday as I was walking with a prism before my eyes, comparing the different rays of the spectrum with Newton's theory, I came full bump against an open door, which drove the shapr end of the glass against the cartrilaginous projection of the nose, occasioning much sternation, and a considerable discharge of blood from the nasal emunctories.
The mucus of the nose is certainly the same substance as our tears, but being more exposed to the air becomes more viscid, from the mucilage absorbing oxygen. By means of nitrate of silver, I have alos formed some crystals of Diana, and have been eminently succesful in making detonating powder, although the last explosion happened to occur at night, just as our next-door neighbour Alderman Heavisides was reading of teh tremendous thunderbolt that fell in a gentleman's garden at Holloway, he took it for granted he had been visited by a smiliar phenomenon, and in this apprehension shuffled down stairs on his nether extremity, being prevented from walking by the gout, ejaculating all the way "Lord have mercy upon us! Fire! murder!" upon discovering the cause of his alarm, he declared that the blue-stockinged hussey, (Meaning me) ought to be sent to the Tread-mill, and mamma says she fully expects we shall shortl be indcited for a nuisance.
In conchology, I cannot boast of any very important additions to my