(6 was aware by the present of medals "from him that I was not forgotten, " and I had heard from Hall and others "that I was expected; yet I was oppressed by the kindness of his recep❝tion.

We found the old man in his cottage in the park to which he retires "for solitude from the town-house, "where were his son, his daughter-in"law, and three grandchildren. He "generally eats and drinks alone; and "when he invites a stranger, it is to a " tête-à-tête. This is a wise sparing of "his strength. Twenty-seven years ago "I thus described him: 'In Goethe I "beheld an elderly man of terrific

66

ennobling an otherwise too corpulent "body; there was ease in his gestures, "and he had a free and enkindled air.' "Now I beheld the same eye indeed, "but the eyebrows were become thin, "the cheeks were furrowed, the lips no longer curled with fearful compres“sion, and the lofty, erect posture had "sunk to a greater stoop. Then he 66 never honoured me with a look after "the first haughty bow, now he was "all courtesy. Well, you are come at last,' he said; we have waited

years for you. How is my old friend "Knebel? You have given him youth "again, I have no doubt.' In his room, "in which there was a French bed "without curtains, hung two large en

gravings; one the well-known pano"ramic view of Rome, the other the "old square engraving of an imaginary

"restitution of the ancient public build"ings."

It is a great temptation to go on and quote the discourses of Goethe on Byron, though his opinions on that subject are tolerably well known. One characteristic story may be introduced. "That evening I gave Goethe an ac"count of Lamennais, and quoted from "him a passage importing that all truth 66 comes from God, and is made known to us through the Church. He held at the "moment a flower in his hand, and a "beautiful butterfly was in the room. "He exclaimed, No doubt all truth

comes from God; but the Church! "There's the point: God speaks to us "through this flower and that butterfly, "and that's a language those Spitzbuben "don't understand '" (ii. 430-432).

He did not know that Lamennais would in a few years think much more of the language that comes through flowers and butterflies than of that which comes through the Church.

Much as we ought to value such records as these for their own sake, it is impossible to separate them from the friendly, cordial man who has bestowed them upon us. Those who have never seen him or shared his hospitality will become well acquainted with him through this "Diary;" they must feel towards himself much personal gratitude and regard. Personal, for he too was personal, though in a very different way from Landor. He cared much more for persons themselves than either for opinions or for truth as truth. His want of any strong conviction or fervent zeal is what he most laments in himself. It was no morbid self-accusation; he was not the least inclined to be morbid ; he was singularly healthy in body and happy in his spirits. He felt inwardly that it was a want: a very interesting and pathetic letter to Benecke shows that he longed for some satisfaction of it. The discovery of such a craving in a man of his social and cheerful temperament is very impressive, and even startling. If he makes those ashamed who feel often tempted to Landor's intolerance by his comprehensive sym

pathies, he may make them more ashamed if they have the glimpse of any truth which should be the basis of all such sympathies, and at the same time of a distinct individual belief. Supposing that is so, they ought to be more vehemently earnest than Landor, more catholic than Robinson. If they are conscious of being inferior to each in that which was his proper characteristic,

they may at least accept both as men who represent our age. We sometimes denounce it as an age of extreme bitterness, sometimes of all-embracing indifference. It may be liable to both dangers; there is assuredly in every one of us a tendency to both. Neither can banish the other; there is a principle hidden under each; those principles may be, and will be, reconciled.

AMONG the many ladies whose life is frittered away in a round of purposeless occupations, there are numbers who have a latent desire to find something which it is worth while to do.

Many more chafe under their imposed idleness, and strive to find a sphere of usefulness. They perhaps plan work for themselves among the poor, but in the outset are hindered by their overprotecting parents. They may not go out alone, or they may not expose themselves to the evils of close rooms and an infected atmosphere. For similar reasons they may not teach in Ragged Schools. They may not undertake a class in an Evening School, because it would interfere with the family dinner-hour. Against their teaching children in their own homes obstacles are again raised. Be sides, it is extremely likely that their talents may not lie in these directions. Finding no work to do for others, they resolve to employ themselves in developing their own power. They set themselves to study history, literature, languages, or art. But interest in the work must flag sooner or later. The study is nearly all for self; and how can a woman go on working steadily for herself alone? Let her but have an object out of herself on which to expend her zeal, and she will work on happily for years.

We have such an object to propose to amateur artists. It is, that they should

give their works for the adornment of rooms where working-men meet. At present, the walls of such rooms are generally covered by an ugly paper, which offers no suggestion of the grand or the lovely.

Would not a faithful representation of mountain wilds, of shady forest, or of some happy domestic scene, do something to elevate the tone of working-men? We all rejoice in finding ourselves occasionally placed in a new world, whether of Nature or of life; and the man whose means prevent him from going to the sea-side or to the mountains, might, at least for half an hour, be brought into contact with some of Nature's aspects. It is good to be alone with Nature, even though no beautiful thoughts may be suggested; yet if we will sit perfectly passive in her temple, we must come forth calmer and stronger. Into this temple we may in a measure enter by looking quietly at some pictures.

But it is only the rich or the well-todo who can have this enjoyment. Let us open up this avenue of pleasure to all who will enter it. Let us hang the walls of Reading-rooms, of Hospitals and Infirmaries, of Class-rooms, of Sunday Schools and Cottages, with good pictures. To be good pictures it is not necessary that they should be painted by a great artist, or should even contain a large amount of work; but they must be faith

ful representations of Nature. They must be true in colour and form, and right in feeling.

We believe that there are numbers of young ladies who can draw, paint, or model, well enough to give pleasure by their work, and who would work twice as well if they knew that their pictures would not be put away in a portfolio as soon as completed.

It

Here the question arises-Who is to judge whether their drawings are sufficiently good to be thus distributed? We suggest that a committee be formed in London, to consist of some dozen artists and men of taste, who would decide on the quality of the pictures, and admit or reject accordingly. would be a laudable object of ambition among ladies to produce work worthy of acceptance. În concert with the artists, there might be a working-committee, which should lend out the pictures to all suitable applicants, and superintend their transfer from one town or village to another. Some pictures might be sold for small sums to adorn private cottages, and would advantage

ously displace the painful daubs and bad prints that often crown the chimneypiece.

A small fund would be required to pay for the simple framing of the pictures and for other expenses, but this could easily be raised by subscription. The labour involved in the whole undertaking, if divided, would not fall too heavily on any single individual, and the benefit which would accrue to rich and poor would be inestimable.

If some few benevolent and active men would come forward and undertake the work at once, we might, before Christmas, see many a dull public room rendered attractive to the weary workman, while employment was provided for many willing workers.

Until, however, our scheme was realized, much might be done by private individuals without organized agency. Let any lady who has drawings or paintings which she can spare, send them at once to the nearest Infirmary or Hospital or Workhouse; her present is sure to be acceptable, and to be a source of pleasure to those for whom it is sent.

In the January number of this Magazine I gave an account of the success which at last had attended the application of a method of studying the conditions of matter, and the forces at work, on our wondrous luminary, the sun: a method which transforms every ray into a sort of inter-stellar cable. I alluded to some of the first messages thus transmitted to us, and I promised to return to the subject.

My first paper was somewhat historical. In the present one I shall endeavour to explain the method of work, to show what has already been accomplished, and what a boundless horizon has been unfolded to us-a horizon which includes every star in the depth of space in its

sweep.

The new method consists in a detailed examination of the sun's surface with a very powerful spectroscope, and dates from the year 1866. So powerful and searching is it, that the very first observation made in that year settled the claims of the two theories then prevalent on the physical constitution of the sun. These two theories were brought forward in the year 1865, and dealt with all the telescopic and photographic observations accumulated up to that time. I refer to the explanation given in both of the reason that a sun-spot appears dark-the very key-stone of any hypothesis dealing with the physical constitution of the

sun.

English science, represented by Messrs. De la Rue, Balfour Stewart, and Loewy, said that a spot is dark because the solar light is absorbed-stopped-by a cool, non-luminous, absorbing atmosphere pouring down there on to the visible surface of the sun,-in other words, on to the photosphere.

French science, represented by M. Faye, said that a spot is dark because it

is a hole in the photosphere, and that inside or below the photosphere the interior gases of the sun give out little or no light.

Now here was a clear issue, which the spectroscope could solve at once; for the spectroscope is an instrument whose special métier it is to deal with radiation and absorption. It tells us that the light radiated from different bodies gives us spectra of different kinds, according to the nature of the radiating body-continuous spectra, such as we see in a rainbow, without bright lines, in the case of solids and liquids; and bright lines, with or without continuous spectra, in the case of gases and vapours. It tells us also that absorption dims the spectrum throughout its length when the absorption is general, and dims it here and there only when the absorption is selective, the well-known Fraunhofer lines in the sun's spectrum being an instance of the latter kind. So that we have general and selective radiation, and general and selective absorption.

What I saw in 1866 was in favour of the English theory. There was abundant evidence of absorption in the spots, and there was not any indication of gaseous radiation. The light which came from the spots was like all the rest, but it was dimmed, as the sun's light is dimmed in a fog.

On both the theories to which I have referred, it was imagined that there was a tremendous atmosphere around the sun as ordinarily visible to us, by which the absorption, which gives rise to the dark lines in the otherwise rainbow-band, was affected. This tremendous atmosphere was supposed to be indicated by the corona in total eclipses, and at the base of the corona, at such times, the strange red flames-the nature of which was stated

in the former article-are seen. I shall show presently that this tremendous atmosphere does not exist; but I will

FIG. 1.-Total eclipse of the sun, showing the corona and red flames.

first endeavour to indicate how the spectroscope has enabled us to determine the nature of the red flames.

The light from solid or liquid bodies, as before stated, is scattered broadcast, so to speak, by the prism into a long band of light, called a continuous spectrum, because from one end of it to the other the light is persistent.

The light from gaseous and vaporous bodies, on the contrary, is most brilliant in a few channels; it is husbanded, and, instead of being scattered broadcast over a long band, is limited to a few lines in the band-in some cases to a very few lines.

Hence, if we have two bodies, one solid or liquid and the other gaseous or vaporous, which give out exactly equal amounts of light, then the bright lines of the latter will be brighter than those parts of the spectrum of the other to which they correspond in colour or refrangibility.

Again, if the gaseous or vaporous substance gives out but few lines, then, although the light which emanates from it may be much less brilliant than that radiated by a solid or liquid, the light

may

be so localized, and therefore intensified, in one case, and so spread out, and therefore diluted, in the other,

that the bright lines from the feeble source may in the spectroscope appear much brighter than the corresponding parts of the spectrum of the more lustrous solid body. Now here comes a very important point: supposing the continuous spectrum of a solid or liquid to be mixed with the discontinuous spectrum of a gas, we can, by increasing the number of prisms in the spectroscope, dilute the continuous spectrum of the solid or liquid body very much indeed, and the dispersion will not seemingly reduce the brilliancy of the lines given out by the gas; as a consequence, the more dispersion we employ, the brighter relatively will the lines of the gaseous spectrum appear.

The reason why we do not see the prominences every day in our telescopes is that they are put out by the tremendous brightness of our atmosphere near the sun, a brightness due to the fact that the particles in the atmosphere reflect to us the continuous solar spectrum. There is, as it were, a battle between the light proceeding from the prominences and the light reflected by the atmosphere, and, except in eclipses, the victory always remains with the atmosphere.

It should now be clear that there was a possibility that by bringing a spectroscope on the field we might turn the tide of battle altogether-assuming the prominences to be gaseous; since the reflected continuous spectrum might be dispersed almost into invisibility, while the brilliancy of the lines of the prominences should suffer scarcely any diminution by the process.

And now for the method of work. We have first the object-glass of a powerful telescope to collect the sun's rays, and to form an image of the sun itself on a screen. In this screen is an extremely narrow slit, through which alone light can reach the prisms. The beam, as it enters, is grasped by another little object-glass and transformed into a cylinder of light containing rays of all colours, which is now ready for its journey through the prisms. In its passage through them it is torn