Whatever lamp you use, a shade is absolutely necessary, in order to defend the eyes. Let me here warn my young readers, that they cannot be too careful of their eyes. In the exuberance of youthful strength and health we are too apt to treat our eyes as unceremoniously as our digestion, and in later years we awake to unavailing repentance.
Many shades can be purchased; but it is far better to make your own after the shape [here] exhibited. They are not pretty to look at, but they save the eyes better than any other form, and whether for reading, writing, or microscopic work, you should use no other. The peculiar merit of them consists in the fact that the light is thrown on the spot where it is wanted, and is cut off from everything except that spot.
Another point which calls for extreme attention is the perfect cleanliness of the glasses. It is astonishing how a tiny dust-mote, or the least condensation of damp, will diminish the powers of the microscope, and how often the instrument is blamed for indistinctness, when the real fault lies in the carelessness of the operator. Even when the greatest care is taken, dust is sure to settle on the glasses, especially on the eye-piece, and before using the microscope the glasses ought to be carefully examined. Never wipe them with an ordinary handkerchief, but get a piece of new wash-leather; beat it well until no dust issues from it, and then put it into a box, with a tightly-fitting cover. Use this, and nothing else, for cleaning the glasses, and you will avoid those horrid scratches with which the eye-glass and object-glass of careless operators are always disfigured.
Moisture is very apt to condense on the glasses and to ruin their clearness. If the microscope be brought from a cold into a warm room, the glasses will be instantly covered with moisture, just as the outside of a tumbler of cold water is always covered with fine dew when brought into a warm room. The microscope should therefore be kept at least an hour in the room wherein it is to be used, so that the instrument and the atmosphere may be of the same temperature. You should make the microscope a trifle warmer than the surrounding atmosphere, and so avoid all danger of condensation. When changing the object-glass or eye-piece, always keep the hand as far away from the glass as possible, and manipulate with the tip of the forefinger and thumb. The human skin always gives out so much exhalation, that even when the hand is cold the glasses will be dimmed; and it is a peculiarity of such moisture, that it adheres to the glasses with great pertinacity, and does not evaporate like the dew which is condensed from the atmosphere.
In order to insure perfect success in this important particular, the young microscopist will do well to get the optician from whom he purchased his instrument to explain its construction, and to give him a lesson or two in the art of taking it to pieces and putting it together again; for unless each glass can be separately cleaned, no one can be quite sure that the instrument will perform as it ought to do. The best method of ascertaining whether it is quite clean is to throw the light upwards by means of the mirror, and then to turn the eye-piece slowly round. If any dust or moisture has collected either upon the eye-glass or the “field-glass,” which forms the second lens of the eye-piece, it will be immediately detected. Turning the object-glass will in a similar manner detect impurities upon its surface.
We will now proceed to the manner in which objects are examined. Suppose, for example, that we take a buttercup-leaf, because it can be found at almost any time of the year. Place a piece of glass on the stage, lay the leaf on it, put on the lowest power, set the focus, and then look at the leaf. You will probably be disappointed, and see nothing but a confused mass of undulating dark green, like a green carpet thrown carelessly on the ground, and seen in the dim twilight.
Two points are now needed; the first being to get the leaf flat, so as to avoid the undulation, and the second being to throw a proper light upon it.
Take out the leaf, and, instead of laying it entire under the microscope, select the flattest part, and cut it out with scissors. A piece the size of a silver penny will be amply large enough. Lay this piece on the glass, get the focus afresh, and then look through the microscope. The leaf will now appear much more regular, and will be seen as a rough surface, mottled with white and traversed by pink and green ridges, which are the large and small nervures. By means of a mirror or the condenser throw a brighter light upon it, and it will be seen to be covered with a slight roughness, the nature of which cannot be clearly ascertained; then add the next highest power, and try if the structure of that roughness can be made out. Curiously enough, although the magnifying power has been more than doubled, the roughness has much the same appearance as before; so that we must try another plan, and look at the leaf edgeways.