July 25th.—Mr. Hausmann, junior, and Mr. Hohenbaum called to look at the photographical drawing. I am told it is the only specimen of the kind in Hanover.

This Day-book, No. 2, is now full, and I shall not be easy till it is deposited in a portfolio, in which will also be found the Mem.-book 9.... It often enables me to contradict erroneous impertinent notions concerning my brother William’s disinterested character.

I am now not able even to look over, much less to correct, what I have scribbled, but it must go as it is. Perhaps my dear niece may look into them at some leisure moment, and she will see what a solitary and useless life I have led these seventeen years, all owing to not finding Hanover, nor anyone in it, like what I left, when the best of brothers took me with him to England in August, 1772!

Dear Aunt,—

... Now let me reply to your two letters of August 26 and October 10, the last of which, being so entirety in your old style, made us very happy. I now go so little to London, and then only on the business of the Royal Society respecting this magnetic expedition, that it has not yet been practicable for me to call on Dr. Küper, whom I well remember, however, at Cumberland Lodge, and since.

As to sending either of our boys to Germany, it is time enough, as W. is yet only six years old, and I assure you he is now learning German very fast.

M. desires me to tell you, in answer to your question whether she preserves your letters, that she does so, most carefully. She is sorry she omitted saying so in her last in which she replied to everything else. So do I, you may be sure.

The Fables arrived safe, and W. must thank you for them himself, as well as for your care of him in Hanover.

I had the honour to meet at dinner, at Sir Gore Ouseley’s, the other day, H.R.H. the Duke of Cambridge. He was very particular in his enquiries after you. He is quite well, and his affable and agreeable manners make him generally beloved.

Your letter of October 10th relieved us of much uneasiness, after the alarming account with which the former one was filled. When you once more begin to write about die Gelehrten, &c., I know all is well. So God bless you, and believe me,

My dearest Niece,—

Perhaps you may have heard that in the early part of its [the forty-foot telescope’s] existence, “God save the King” was sung in it by the whole company, who got up from dinner and went into the tube, among the rest two Misses Stows, the one a famous pianoforte player, some of the Griesbachs, who accompanied on the oboe, or any instrument they could get hold of, and I, you will easily imagine, was one of the nimblest and foremost to get in and out of the tube. But now!—lack-a-day!—I can hardly cross the room without help. But what of that? Dorcas, in the Beggar’s Opera, says, “One cannot eat one’s cake and have it too!”... I will only thank you once more for your charming letter, and beg to be kindly remembered to all who are dear to you, and to give an embrace extraordinary to the dear little ones around you, and not forgetting to include my dear nephew in the general hug! and believe me,

P.S.—One anecdote of the old tube (if you have not heard it) I must give you. Before the optical parts were finished, many visitors had the curiosity to walk through it, among the rest King George III., and the Archbishop of Canterbury, following the King, and finding it difficult to proceed, the King turned to give him the hand, saying, “Come, my Lord Bishop, I will show you the way to Heaven!”

This was in the year 1787, August 17th, when the King and Queen, the Duke of York and some of the Princesses were of the company.

I hope the book where the visitors were noted, has been preserved? Some time after it was kept by other hands; but before I parted with it, I copied some pages which put me sometimes in mind of persons who were interesting to me.

These scribblings will come to you among the rest of my scraps. Good-bye!

My dearest Niece,—

... For the last month past I have been so much disturbed and fatigued by visitors who came to wish me a happy New-year, &c., for I have of late gained the acquaintance of half a dozen ladies, added to two who were in the habit of visiting me between the hours of twelve at noon and six or seven in the evening; (for the first two or three hours, after having passed a sleepless night, I am obliged to spend in the manner as perhaps you may have seen Lord Ogleby did in The Clandestine Marriage).

But now, from seven to eight till between eleven and twelve, I am left to amuse myself as well as I may, but it is no easy task to turn books into companions by one who has no eyes left; but there is no help for it. There is neither man, woman, nor child in Hanover to be found but they must spend the evening at balls, plays, routs, clubs, &c., and not a month goes over one’s head without a jubilee being celebrated at enormous expense to someone who has fifty years enjoyed title and salaries for doing his duty (anyhow, perhaps).

But what a contrast between a jubilee auf der Börse^[53] at Hanover and the one at Slough,^[54] described in your letter with which I was made happy January 4th. The company so select—for I figure to myself none but angels from above were listening to, and joining their kindred in the chorus below!... Before I take leave of this jubilee I must beg the excellent poet of the song to accept my hearty thanks for remembering me so kindly in verse 4, and for not letting the poor forty-foot telescope^[55] depart in silence.

My dearest Niece!—

Your delightful letter of March 8th, which I received about a week after that of my dear nephew, could never have come at a more needful time for chasing away the melancholy impressions my friends’ losses and misfortunes have had on my spirits. On the 7th of March Dr. Mühry came to wish me joy on my nephew’s birthday. Nine days after, when they all used to come and bring me flowers, &c., the whole family were thrown into despair by the death of Dr. C. M., who died by his own hands (thirty-four years old). About a week before I had spent an evening with him at his grandmother’s, when he begged me to thank my nephew once more for giving him a letter of introduction to Dr. ——, at Oxford. This poor man was spoiled by being made too much of from his infancy. As a boy of seven or eight, he was brought to England to visit his grandmother and aunt, and was loaded with costly presents by the Princesses, and fed with nothing but dainties, till, when grown up, nothing but what was most extravagant would satisfy him. The 30th of March our friend P—— was buried, eighty-three years old. On my birthday a circular letter came by post, announcing Dr. Olbers’s death. So, I must say once more, my nephew’s and your dear letter came very seasonably to turn my thoughts to something more cheering....

Now I am in two minds whether I shall turn to my dear niece or have done with you first. But out with it! I would, if you have no objection, draw on Mr. Drummond for £52,

and if I should (as it seems) live to the age of Methuselah, come again for the same sum after the 10th of October next. For this is quite enough for me to live with credit, and more would only be a trouble to me.

But at another time, when perhaps I may find myself a little better, I will amuse my dear niece with introducing some of my acquaintances to her notice. Some of the family of General Halkett,^[56] at least, she will not be displeased at knowing personally. Last night the sister of the general, Mrs. W. Clarke,^[57] a widow, sat an hour with me, and said she would next summer visit her late husband’s relations in England, and then she would not fail of seeing you. You must love her for my sake, for she really takes some pains to give me pleasure, bringing me flowers, taking me an airing in her fine English equipage, &c. I must not forget the general’s lady, a second wife, of course a stepmother of my young friend. She is Scotch (a Graham), and brought me little Christmas pies in her reticule on New-year’s Day, of the young lady’s making—the only good kind I have tasted in Hanover, and they were as good as my nephew’s mamma ever made.

My dearest Niece,—

... But first and foremost, I must beg you will give my best thanks to my dear niece Caroline for her very sensible and very clever letter, and I only wish I may be often favoured by her fair hands with such favourable accounts of all your health and contentment with your new situation.

I am not able to write long letters, and must content myself with saying, in as few words as possible, that if my nephew thought the seven-foot telescope worth the acceptance of the Royal Astronomical Society, it is well!... (Mem.—Its only being painted deal was, because it should look like the one with which the Georgium Sidus was discovered.)

I have also the Proceedings of the Royal Irish Academy to thank you for, twenty pages. I suppose I have nothing to do but to accept them. But I think almost it is mocking me to look upon me as a Member of an Academy; I that have lived these eighteen years (against my will and intention) without finding as much as a single comet. But no more of these terrible eighteen years just now....

My dear nephew, if I did not feel myself seriously declining very fast, I would not incommode you at present (when your time must be so precious) with such letters as my two or three last have been.

But going many nights to bed without the hope of seeing another day, I think it my duty to guard you against putting any trust or confidence in ——. He and the whole family have never been of the least use to me; and for all the good I have lavished on them, they never came to look after me, but when they had some design upon me.

In short, I find that all along I have been taken for an idiot, or that at least I am now reckoned to be in my dotage, and therefore ought not to be mistress of my own actions. But, thank God, I have yet sense enough left to caution you against being imposed upon by a stupid being who would make you believe I died under obligations to any of the family. I know he has already, without asking my leave, passed himself off for my guardian, and is vexed at my being able to do without him. But I could not live without that little business of keeping my accounts; and by my last book of expenses and receipts may be seen, that I owe nothing to anybody, but to my dear nephew many many thanks for fulfilling his father’s wishes, by paying for so many years the ample annuity he left me.

... The telescopes are now, I trust, properly disposed of. Mr. Hausmann (who will value it) has the sweeper. The five-foot Newtonian reflector is in the hands of the Royal Astronomical Society, and will be preserved by it as the little telescope of Newton is by the Royal Society, long after I and all the little ones are dead and gone.

... Did I ever tell you that I had lately brought together the observations of four or five years, proving beyond all doubt α Orionis to be both a variable and a periodical star, and one of the most remarkable among them? Its period is about a year, and it changes in that time from a lustre superior on some occasions even to Rigel, to a degree of brightness nearly on a par with Aldebaran.

... I owe you many thanks for relieving me two whole days sooner from the anxiety of having been misunderstood by you, and now I am happy, and all is well! But there are times when I should like to have some talk with you or my dear niece, to put you in mind of many past events, but if you will excuse the style and the spelling, &c., &c., on account of my eyesight being so uncertain, I will at times try to amuse you with what passed in old times, for my memory is as good as ever [this is in her ninety-first year]. (N.B.—Year of the past.) Writing this, puts me in mind that I never could remember the multiplication table, but was obliged to carry always a copy of it about me.

... There is another circumstance on which account I feel not very easy, which is that by leaving Slough you are separated from all your usual friends, &c., doctors and all; but pray keep up your spirits, for the days are already a cock’s stride longer, and my windows have now been covered with ice for the last three weeks, which is long enough in conscience; therefore I hope to see a change every morning when I can get my eyes open, which is never the case till near eleven o’clock.

There have been some English gentlemen with Mrs. Beckedorff on business, who, in conversation, among the rest, were saying that the keeping Christmas in the German fashion was coming to be very general in England; but I hope they will never go such lengths in foolery as they do here. The tradespeople have been for many weeks in full employ framing and mounting the embroideries of the ladies and girls of all classes, for there exists not a folly or extravagancy among the great but it is imitated by the little. The shops are beautifully lit up by gas, and the last three days before Christmas all that could be tempting was exhibited in the market places in booths lighted up in the evening, where all run to gaze and get a liking to all they see. Cooks and housemaids present one another with knitted bags and purses, the cobbler’s daughter embroidered neck-cushions for her friend the butcher’s daughter, which are made up by the upholsterer at great expense, lined with white satin, the upper part, on which the back is to rest, is worked with gold, silver, and pearls.

But I find too much difficulty to write in these short days, else I could write a book about the nonsense which is going on in this city. I have for this last month been completely tired out with this Christmas bustle; but now the balls at the Bourse, given by the shopmen to the daughters of their masters, will be succeeded by the masquerades in Lent, an amusement which in the good old times was only for the nobility, but from which they are now excluded....

I intended to have made some remarks to you about several things which are said in those pages which came enclosed in the letter of February 3rd. I suppose it is not expected to acknowledge the receipt thereof, but if there is anybody to whom my thanks are due, I beg you will do it for me, because I am not capable of writing to strangers. But to you I cannot help pointing out several things which displease me very much....

I think whoever reads the Preface to the description of the forty-foot telescope (see “Philosophical Transactions,” June 11, 1795), would not accuse him of jealousy—which also may be seen by the four volumes on the construction of Specula, which your father left behind in MSS., (to which you added those excellent drawings of the machinery, &c.), which it was my care, for half a dozen years at least, to save them from being devoured by the mice, by placing them on a table in the middle of the library, where I was obliged to leave them when I left Slough, for I could not find a better place for them.

Your father was latterly most miserably stinted for room, and I fear many, many things have met with destruction in consequence of being put by in corners among rubbish when not in use. For instance, when polishing and the foci were to be tried, by three apertures, which generally wanted to be repaired first; (for the twenty-foot they were made of pasteboard, but for the forty-foot of light deal) and I was directed to hold them before the mirror, and, listening to the report of the trial, was glad to hear “All right, three foci perfectly alike!” and the work proceeded to perfect the polish. Dear nephew, I stick fast, and must give over talking about these things; it downright fatigues me. But these folks would not have called the Herschelian construction useless if they had seen the struggle, during the years from 1781 to ’86, to get a sight of the Satellites of the Georgium Sidus, when, after throwing aside the speculum, they stood broad before us.... Pray, does South live still?

Not to send blank paper, I will fill it by copying from my Day-book the names of the visitors I had to receive on the 16th of March. This I can do mechanically and by feeling, and it serves to pass away the time, as I cannot see to read for any length of time.

By way of being ready to see anybody by twelve o’clock, I rose an hour earlier than usual, but before I was dressed, Mrs. Beckedorff and Mrs. W. Clarke sent each a beautiful moss-rose and card. Soon after, Mrs. Clarke and General Halkett came; Generalin Borse and daughter brought violets; Frau von Both; Ober Medicinal-Rath Mühry; Miss Beckedorff; Madam Groskopff; Hofräthin Ubelode brought mignonette; Oberjustiz-Rath von Werloff sent crocuses; Fraulein von Werloff sent a card and hyacinths; Dr. Groskopff, Hauptman Buse, Alexis Richter, Major Müller;—all these I saw between twelve and four o’clock, and several for a good while together. I talked and complimented myself into a fever, of course “looked blooming,” and am to live to be a hundred years old. What stuff! After eating my solitary dinner I tried to get a little sleep, as I generally do, but before I could compose myself enough, two of Major Müller’s sisters came and remained two hours with me; after they left me, Fraulein von Werloff sent her companion, a Mademoiselle H., and a sister, to keep me company till ten o’clock. With difficulty, and the help of Betty, I got into bed, but could get no sleep, nor the whole day after.

My dearest Niece,—

If it was not that I ought to thank you for your kind letter of June 9th, I should perhaps not have now the spirit to take up the pen; but your letters always, especially the last, contain, besides the many consoling expressions, such very interesting information, that I would not for the world risk to lose the monthly sight of your dear handwriting, by omitting to return at least my grateful thanks for your kind communications of what the present philosophers are about.

I think I can form some idea of the author of the book on philosophy (and godfather of our little Amelia), from what I recollect to have read some years past in some quarterly publication by a Mr. Whewell, in defence of Sir Isaac Newton. In short, it met with my approbation! There is for you! What do you say to that?

I do not wish to write in what my dear brother William used to call a Dick Doleful style, when our brother Alexander was in the dismals, and out of which we often succeeded in laughing him. But I cannot just now turn to anything of a cheering nature, for yesterday, the 30th, our Queen died, and I have been very unwell in consequence of the violent change in the weather....

The following letter refers to the intended removal of Sir J. Herschel and his family to Collingwood, which he had purchased:—

My dearest Niece,—

... I could wish to know something more about the place where you now are.^[58] How many miles is Collingwood from London? How many from Hastings? Have you any good people or neighbours about you? I think I read in Watson’s Gazetteer, Hawkhurst to be full of poor, and, what is worse, of smugglers. Pray take care of the dear boys and children, that they are not kidnapped in their little rambles from home.

I can for the present only say so much of myself that my friends are almost going to kill me with their visits, like, as they say, the cat did her kitten with kindness. On Sunday I was even honoured with a visit from the Duchess of Anhalt Dessau and the Princess of Rudolstadt—the latter a little astronomer—who remained a whole hour with me. They are both daughters of the late Queen.

... Your mentioning the Government gift of the Kew Observatory to the Royal Society, recalls to my mind the struggles through a life of privations during the lapse of between twenty and thirty years, till my brother had realised a capital sufficient for living in a respectable manner by making seven, ten, twenty, and twenty-five-foot telescopes. For it was in 1782 when Mr. De Mainborg, the King’s private astronomer (formerly one of his tutors) at Kew, died, and my brother, in consequence of the discovery of the G. Sidus, was called from his lucrative employment at Bath. His friends had no other idea but that he was to succeed Mr. De Mainborg at Kew. But it was otherwise decreed, for the King was surrounded by some wiseacres who knew how to bargain, and even £100 were offered if he would go to Hanover!

But you know by what I once wrote on a former occasion that he settled at Datchet with £200 per annum, after four months’ travelling between London, Greenwich, and Windsor, and moving his workshop and instruments from a house at Bath, of which he had a lease. And at Michaelmas, 1782, was the first £50 he ever saw of the King’s money. This happened at the time when Parliament had granted to the King £80,000 a-year for encouraging sciences. This I only knew by what I heard at that time, and that Mr. West, R.A., with his giant Judas, Jervis, who made the altar-piece for St. George’s chapel (which I once heard Mrs. Beckedorff say had cost the King £30,000), and Herschel, were the first who benefited by this grant.

I am full of expectation of W.’s promised description of the Christmas entertainment; but put him in mind that I do not understand Latin. Of A’s Greek, I think I can be a judge, knowing the letters of the alphabet in consequence of their being used in the astronomical catalogues.... I hope music is still in favour with the family; often I lament that at the time of our quitting Bath in such a hurry my brother’s musical treasures were scattered, and given to the winds. Among the rest there was a song for four voices, “In thee I bear so dear a part,” which was just going to be published by desire, for it was sung by the first performers from the London theatres, and encored, between the acts of the oratorios. I wrote it out ready in parts during my brother’s absence; but he could not find a moment to send it off, nor to answer the printer’s letters.

Oh! how I should like to hear some of the glees and catches sung by the great and little family in the music-room at Collingwood; but it was not to be! and I had rather leave off and leave some room for the many good wishes to yourself, my dear nephew, and all those who are dear to you, and believe me,

My dearest Niece,—

... Nothing runs in my head but what concerns my family and connections, and I am at present living over again the last eighty-nine years of my existence.... But I will leave off teazing you with these old stories with which I am obliged to amuse myself, for I cannot see to work or read, and must therefore either sleep or scribble, for my visitors come mostly in the forenoon, their evenings being taken up with public amusements or private parties, of which I have not been able to be a partaker these three years, for I see by my account-books it is so many since I left off subscribing to the play. But to please Mrs. Clarke I made the experiment on the 3rd of February, whether I should come home alive after seeing King Charles II. in Wapping, acted at the English Ambassador’s. Mrs. Clarke came about twelve with an invitation from the Honourable Mrs. Edgecombe—their house not containing a room large enough for giving great balls, they contrived this way of entertaining the company. The enclosed playbill will show the rest.

There was no time for consulting milliners, and Mrs. Clarke assisted me in looking out something from what I had worn some years back, cap and all. (N.B.—The latter of my own making.) I must give you here a German saying, if you do not know it, which is, “Einen jeden Narren gefällt seine eigene Cappe!”^[59] but I cannot say that I was much pleased with mine, I have so very few grey hairs left, which, however, I was told were much admired!

Mrs. C. left me with a promise of sending her chair and servant at three-quarters past seven, and was waiting in an ante-room for me to assist me in getting further, and, indeed, the whole evening she did not withdraw her arm from me till she had put me in my chair again, and the next morning she was with me almost before I was out of bed. The King, Princess of Rüdolstadt, and one of the Princes of Solms were among the company, and I did not come home without receiving their notice. But I shall not venture on such pranks again, I promise you!

As I am writing this I see it will be my birthday, when I shall be ninety-two years, if I live. My nephew’s is the 7th, and he will be fifty, but for all that do not think him to be an old man. His father was fifty-four when he first saw the light....

The King of Prussia left magnificent presents among the courtiers, and Generalin Halkett was here on Sunday, and promised to bring me a snuff-box to look at, which the general has received. I begged she would not, for the ladies wear no pockets, and lose their purses, &c., as I daily hear by the town crier. Their pocketkerchiefs they carry open in their hands, which I think very indelicate; I daresay it is not the fashion in England....

... I would not wish on any account to see either my nephew or you, my dear niece, again in this world, for I could not bear the pain of parting once more; but I trust I shall find and know you in the next. And as long as I can hold a pen, let us, I beg, commune with one another by letter!

My dearest Niece,—

A thousand thanks for your kind letter, which contains ever so much comfortable and satisfactory information, such as heart can but wish....

I have begun a piece of work which I despair of finishing before my eyesight and life will leave me in the lurch. You will perhaps wonder what such a thing as I may pretend to do, can be, but I cannot help it, and shall not rest till I have wrote the History of the Herschels. I began, of course, with my father and his parents. My father was born in January, 1707, and I have now only got so far as the beginning of 1758, and it begins to interest me much, but I doubt whether I shall live to finish it, but think it a pity it should be thrown away.^[60]...

... Do not forget to thank my little nephew for his pretty letter. His description of the method his papa makes use of in teaching mathematical figures, I prefer to that of his grandfather. He used, when making me, a grown woman, acquainted with them, to make me sometimes fall short at dinner if I did not guess the angle right of the piece of pudding I was helping myself to!

My dearest Niece,—

I have just now been reading your dear letter of June 7th once again, but I shall take care not to look into it for yet a while, else I run the risk of going mad when thinking of my running away from a country where I might have been an eye-witness, and sometimes a partaker, of so much domestic happiness. But it is no matter now, and of no use fretting about it; I am only sorry I cannot go on with my history as fast as I could wish, for I feel too unwell to be doing any thing for any length of time....

... I am glad my dear nephew finds pleasure in giving up so much of his valuable time to his dear sons; for my hair stands at an end on hearing what beings are continually expelled from our Eton here, all owing to ignorant ambitious parents trusting entirely to unprincipled hirelings.

Though my poor brother seemed to have no hands in the education of his only son, I know, from having been present at many private conversations he had with Dr. Gretton, that nothing was done without his approbation and advice.

... The Astronom. Nachrichten have latterly been filled with tables and too much mathematics (for me). The last numbers, 450, 451, contain an account, by Struve, of the purchase of Olbers’ books, &c., for the library of the Observatory at Pulkowa. This puts one in mind of Olbers saying somewhere, I had discovered five comets. Who wanted him to give the number of my comets when he knew them no better? As far as I recollect, Dr. Maskelyne has observed them all, and his observations on them are, I daresay, all printed in the volumes of the Greenwich Observations—at least of some he has shown me the proof sheets. I never called a comet mine till several post days were passed without any account of them coming to hand. And after all, it is only like the children’s game, “Wer am ersten kick ruft, soll den Apfel haben! Wo sie denn alle rufen kick! kick! und so,”^[61] &c., &c.

I long for the return of the messenger, for I heard to-day that Bessel and Encke were gone to the philosophical meeting in England, and I expect to hear a great deal of news. But first and foremost I wish to see in your next that yourself and my dear nephew, with all the dear little, little ones, continue to be well and happy....

P.S.—My head is full of my History, and I go on but slowly, because I cannot sit up for any length of time. I am only at my fourteenth year, and have just parted from my brother, William Herschel I., who is returned after a fourteen nights’ visit to us, to England, Leeds in Yorkshire (where he must be left for some time), and I cannot go on till I have recovered from the parting scene.

M. tells me I must finish this letter with an account of the total eclipse of the sun seen at Pavia by Mr. Baily, and at Turin by Mr. Airy. At Pavia it was very finely seen, and as soon as the sun was totally covered, the dark moon was seen to be surrounded with a glory, like the heads of saints in old pictures. While he was admiring this, a great shout from all the population of Pavia broke out at once, which was caused by the sudden appearance of three purple or lilac-coloured flames, which seemed to break out from the edge of the moon. At Milan the same was seen, and the people shouted out “Es leben die Astronomen!”^[62] as soon as they saw the flames.

I am glad you got my Chrysotype pictures safe. The present beautiful sunshine has given me an opportunity to make great progress in photography, and the enclosed photographic copy of a little engraving or two may serve to amuse you. Meanwhile the star reductions are not forgotten. Thirty more sweeps only remain to be reduced, and I am already in the engraver’s hands with the nebulæ pictures. And so the world wags with

... On the 30th of last month I finished the reductions of all my Cape nebulæ and double stars, and have got all the former and all but a very small number of the latter arranged in catalogues in order of Rt. Ascension for the epoch 1830, January 1st. Thus these two most important parts of my Cape work are at last secured against loss, and it will not be long now before I shall begin to prepare for the work of publication in good earnest. I mean as to the narrative part.

Dec. 8, 1842.

... Your nephew sends you his translation of Schiller’s beautiful and instructive poem, “The Walk,” in which he tied himself down to the original metre, and each couplet contains the sense of the corresponding couplet in German, so that the full strength of the English language was required to do justice to the comprehensiveness of Schiller’s ideas. There was a beautiful walk up the side of Table Mountain which always reminded Herschel of this poem, and made him love it; and lately there have appeared in an Edinburgh Review translations of all Schiller’s minor poems, some of which are well done; but he thought “The Walk” deserved to be better rendered, so he set about it, and distributed it among his friends as his Christmas sugarplum. The number of interesting autographs, criticisms, witticisms, &c., which have been thereupon returned, will make an amusing packet. One lady says (alluding to the singularity of the hexameter in English) that she found it difficult to get into the step of the Walk; another, that the Walk had got into a Run, it was so often carried off by friends from his table; another, not knowing whence it came, intended sending it to Herschel for his opinion on its merits! another, while admiring the ideas, says “to the verse I am averse.” The good Misses Baillie, of Hampstead, have been greatly delighted with it. They desired their kindest remembrances to you.