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the spirit of mischief possessed Mr. Cobden, who was next me, and myself, exchanging a glance of mutual understanding, we two exerted ourselves to move the unimpressionable table by mere muscular force. It began to slide round, for our feet helped our hands. "It's going, it's going "cried out Mr. Bright in triumph; but just then he looked up, and seeing that we were laughing, exclaimed: Oh, it's all a trick, I see Mrs. Crosse and Cobden are in league. "Of course I am in the League, as the wife of a free-trader is bound to be," I replied laughing. Just at that moment, a gentleman present asked Mr. Bright some questions connected with business in the House; the latter turning toward him, adjusted the high quaker collar of his coat, with a trick of manner peculiar to him, and slightly throwing back his head, spoke in answer gravely and forcibly. In that moment I caught an impression of the great orator; his face was full of power and earnestness the earnestness of internal conviction, the power to influence the multitude.

A few days after this dinner, I saw our Somersetshire neighbor, Colonel Charles Tynte-Mezzo-Tinte, as he was called, because his father and his son were also colonels. I mentioned to him the interest I had felt in meeting the leaders of the Free Trade movement. In conversation he told me what Lord John Russell had quite recently said to him, imitating as he did so the speaker's drawling manner: If ask you me," said his lordship, who is the best speaker in the Housewell, I must say, John Bright."

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But to return to spiritualism; whether one met Mrs. Milliner Gibson-as that somewhat over-dressed lady was calledwith her magic bracelet of amber beads, or Dr. Ashburner with his phials of mesmerized water, which, if you looked into them long enough, would picture all the scenes of your past life; the tiresome subject would crop up.

Faraday was pestered with applications and letters from people who believed that a new force" had been discovered, and expected him to explain it scientifically. "Poor electricity is made accountable for half the follies of the age," said Faraday one day when we were talking over the new craze. He invited my husband to accompany him to a séance, where the following incident occurred. A girl pres

ent who was said to be in a state of clairvoyance, was supposed to manifest extraordinary emotion when, as directed, Dr. Faraday turned the apex of a rock crystal toward her. But the girl could see the crystal, and the obvious conclusion was-that she was in collusion with the giver of the séance and was acting a part. It was pretended that the action of her ordinary senses was in abeyance, and that in fact her eyes saw nothing outwardly. Mr. Crosse handed his hat to Dr. Faraday to use as a screen before the object; this was no sooner done than the clairvoyant failed utterly to respond to the movements of the crystal. There were other exhibitions, which, under the test of common sense, failed equally; the whole thing was a perfect fiasco, quite unworthy the serious consideration of scientific men. Faraday often took occasion to remark "On the tendency there is in the human mind to deceive ourselves in regard to all we wish, and the lack of all real educational training of the judgment.' was said in 1853. In the summer of the same year, Faraday wrote a letter to his friend Schönbein, which the worldthough it believes itself better educated, more advanced and wiser generally-may read with interest and profit, for the folly of the foolish is always with us.

This

"I have not been at work," writes Faraday, except in turning the tables upon the tableturners, nor should I have done that, but that so many inquiries poured in upon me, that I thought it better to stop the inpouring flood by letting all know, at once, what my views and thoughts were. What a weak, credulous, incredulous, unbelieving, superstitious, bold, frightened-what a ridiculous world ours is, as far as concerns the mind of man. How full of inconsistencies, contradictions, and absurdities it is!''

All those who were fortunate enough to have known the great electrician must have been impressed by the singularly even balance of his mind; a contrast to Darwin, who lost, if indeed he ever possessed, a love of poetry, and became deaf and blind as it were to the imaginative side of our nature. Faraday was not given to quote poetry, or to talk about it in a literary sense; but as the mathematician discovers in the universe" a divine geometry," so did he discover to his hearers-whether he lectured on Magnetic Actions and Affections" or on the Conservation of Force"-a di

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vine poetry in the laws of Nature. No attentive listener ever came away from one of Faraday's lectures without having the limits of his spiritual vision enlarged, or without feeling that his imagination had been stimulated to something beyond the mere exposition of physical facts.

Nor does Faraday stand alone as a physicist who is touched by the afflatus of poetry. I remember at one of the Friday evening lectures at the Royal Institution, Dr. Tyndall quoted Helmholtz, who finely says:

"The cleavage of crystalline slate rocks are so many telescopes to our spiritual vision, by which we can see backward through the night of antiquity, and discern the forces which have been on the earth's surface

"Ere the lion roared,

Or the eagle soared."

In reference to the attitude of poetry toward science, I remember Professor Huxley remarking that "Tennyson is the only poet of our day who has fused true science into song.' This was said, and said truly, more than three decades since, but posterity has proposed no amendment. Tennyson may still be described as standing alone in his reception of the inductive processes of science, which, passing into his mind have moulded his thoughts. The philosopher looking into nature

"Sees his shadow glory crowned,

He sees himself in all he sees.

ber rightly, one of the many passages sclected from Tennyson was as follows: "There rolls the deep where grew the tree. O earth, what changes hast thou seen! There where the long street roars, hath been The stillness of the central sea.

"The hills are shadows, and they flow From form to form, and nothing stands ; They melt like mist, the solid lands

Like clouds they shape themselves and go."

It is remarkable that Browning-though supreme in his adjustment of moral harmony, and profoundly intellectual in his ethical system-should have passed modern science coldly by on the other side. Even in his "Paracelsus," which, if treated historically, would have suggested the search for knowledge through the phenomena of creation, or by experiments on forces that have the power to bind and to loose; yet the poet does not so treat the subject, preferring to look for Nature's secrets in the souls of great men, relying on the knowledge which springs direct from the human mind.

Poets were not the only people who failed in the full recognition of science. I remember a smile passing round the dinner-table when a political personage, who has since been a Cabinet Minister, made the curious mistake of supposing that the Royal Society and the Royal Institution were one and the same. Though Cardinal Wiseman, who was then extremely répandu in society, together with Sir Henry Rawlinson and other non-scientific men, lectured frequently in Albemarle Street, the Friday evening meetings were evidently utterly unknown to the politician-albeit he was himself a writer of biography. The slip was the more remarkable as it was made by a man too young to plead, as did the late Lord Derby, that he unfortunately belonged to a pre-scientific age.

Mr. Grote, the historian, was one of the few scholarly writers whom I met in the old days, who brought a disposing mind to the fresh array of scientific facts; not that he was technically informed on those subjects, as he himself confessed, but he took stock of their value among the possessions of the human intellect.

The courteous, old-fashioned tone of Mr. Grote's conversation hardly led one to expect him to be so modern in thought and expression as he really was. Mr. and

Mrs. Grote were a great contrast to each other; it did not require Sydney Smith's wit to discover that they had exchanged attributes. He was so measured and decorous in all things, and his wife so much the reverse at least in talk. I remember her startling a sedate and somewhat dull set of people, by saying that nothing would go right in the world till marriages were entered upon like the tenancy of a house, with leases of seven, fourteen, and twenty-one years, renewable or not, at pleasure.

We did not say things so crudely, in the Fifties, as it is the fashion to do now. No one would ever have associated the idea of female vanity with Mrs. Grote, whose dressing Sydney Smith summed up as grotesque; nothing could be more careless, more incongruous, or more shabby than her garments. But the strong-minded woman had her little weakness-she was proud of her legs. When Susan Durant was modelling her statue of "The Forsaken Shepherdess," which was subsequently placed in the Mansion House, her friend, Mrs. Grote, proffered herself as a model for the legs, which, Arcadian like, were scant of covering; the result fully justified the lady's pretensions.

The Grotes, Lord Houghton-who, bythe by, was pointed out to me as "the cool of the evening" the first time I ever saw him Sir Emerson Tennant, Sir Henry Rawlinson, Sir Charles Fellows, Mr. Fergusson, and a host of other nonscientific people were to be met at Mrs. Barlow's delightful parties in the old days. Mr. Barlow became Honorary Secretary of the Royal Institution as long ago as 1843, and for more than twenty years he and his wife gave an eminently social aspect to the learned gatherings. They lived in Berkeley Street, conveniently near the Institution. It was Mrs. Barlow's custom during the Session to invite the Friday evening lecturer to meet a party at dinner, at seven o'clock, the lecture beginning at nine. The guests were mostly bidden in compliment to the lecturer's special subject. If Lyell was to discourse on the impressions of rain drops on ancient strata, giving us thereby a back cast of the weather in pre adamite times. or if Ramsay was to expound his theory of glacial action in the formation of lake basins then the party would consist of geologists and their wives, with a judicious

sprinkling of fashionable outsiders, among whom the hostess had family connections. But there is antipathy, as well as sympathy, even among the followers of science; Faraday was right, human nature is the same everywhere. For instance, Sir Richard Owen and Professor Huxley would not be asked to meet one another; and, alas! though they had been the closest of friends, Sedgwick and Murchison no longer hunted Siluria in couples. Even astronomers can be the reverse of nice with each other, though the objects. of their affections are so far removed. Arago's abuse of his fellow-worker was the most comprehensive in the language; he said of Leverrier that he was the greatest scoundrel within the orbit of Neptune. Our own astronomer, Adams, had in those days, or at least his friends had for him, a grudge against Airy for neglecting to notice his paper on the "Perturbations of Uranus," and thereby in point of time, losing to England the honor of the discovery of Neptune. Leverrier found the planet by accident, which Adams had proved by inductive reasoning must be there, in the exact place, where the lucky Frenchman's telescopic vision found it.

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In common justice it must be said, no international jealousies ever interfered with the hospitable receptions accorded to distinguished foreigners, in the scientific society of London.

Among the foreign savants to be met with at the Murchisons, the Lyells, the Barlows, and elsewhere, there remains on my mind a very distinct recollection of M. Quételet, whom we met first at the Spences. This well-known Belgian astronomer and statistician, was a noblelooking man, whose conversation was full of grave interest. Just at this time, the Christian socialism of Maurice and Kingsley, was attracting the attention of many earnest-minded men, who desired to lessen the evils that appeared to be no other than the noxious products of civilization. It will be remembered that a savage attack had been made on the two clergymen, by Wilson Croker in the pages of the Quarterly, and this circumstance brought the matter still more under discussion. reference to the vexed question, M. Quételet used these remarkable words: "c'est la société qui prépare le crime, le coupable n'est que l'instrument qui l'exécute."

In

Another foreigner, who was often to be

met in society at the time-a Frenchman, whom Kinglake might have classed with those deserving to be Englishmen, if born again, was M. Sainte-Claire Deville. He had only recently rediscovered aluminium, aided in his researches by a grant from the Emperor Louis Napoleon, who much as he hated the Victor Hugos of the pen, knew how to be civil to men of science. Aluminium was to be so cheap, that houses were to be roofed with it, and iron pots and kettles were to be superseded by the lighter metal. Alas, to our cost, every storm still finds out our loose tiles; and cumbrous iron still holds its sway in the kitchen.

In my old note-book, among other foreign friends and acquaintances, there appears the name of the celebrated French chemist, Dumas; and I am thereby reminded of an amusing incident. The contributions of this distinguished man to the science of organic chemistry, were amply sufficient to justify a large amount of self-esteem; but vanity is not a becoming garment when it has no revers of humility. M. Dumas was not only known for his laboratory work, he was associated with the dignity of official life, having held the porte-feuille of Agriculture and Commerce; but yet he was not happy, he had a crook in his lot, for his name was the same as that of the too prolific novelistthe author of "Monte Cristo," and nothing irritated the man of science so much as being mistaken for his namesake. It chanced on one occasion, the distinguished savant being the guest of the evening, that a lady well known in society as a great lion hunter, desired, with her usual charming audacity, to be introduced to the dignified, muchly decorated FrenchShe immediately began pouring out the torrent of her flattery, the first words of which nearly convulsed the bystanders, who of course took in the humor of the situation. Oh, Monsieur Dumas," exclaimed the effusive lady, "I am delighted to meet you, but you are no stranger to me, you have not in England a greater admirer than myself; I knew every line of your writings, from dear 'Monte Cristo,' to the delightful Mousquetaires; I hope you will allow me to send you a card for my next soirée on-" 'Madam, I am in no way connected with the writer you allude to," said the savant with a cold disdain, that no asi

man.

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nine, snub-proof coat-of-mail could resist.

"Oh, I thought you were the great M. Dumas," exclaimed the bewildered lady. Here the hostess intervened, but not too soon as to spoil our enjoyment of the petite comedie.

The Barlows' hospitalities were not confined to their weekly dinners; for dur ing the Royal Institution Session, Mrs. Barlow received her friends at her own house, after the lecture was over at ten o'clock. These gatherings had something of the character of a French salon; the same people always with a pleasant infusion of strangers-met week after week, not as fortuitous atoms in the social whirlpool, but having sympathy of tastes and interests, that gave a feeling of continuity to the meetings. There was hardly an English notability in the ranks of science, or a foreign savant visiting London, who did not on one or more occasions, put in an appearance in Berkeley Street. Literature and diplomacy were also well represented. The listener might gather in a focus, something of the spirit of the age. Lacaita and Pollock discussing a new reading of Dante, while a very young manbut we know even the youngest of us are not infallible-was declaring the new Gospel according to Carlyle. Lord Stanhope might be heard quoting Avicenna and Averroes, tracing the influence of Arabic learning on the Reformation; and Maurice assenting to the line of argument, with the remark that Protestantism was always favorable to science. Vernon Lushington would perhaps be looking up volunteer lecturers for the Workingmen's College, which he and many other earnest-minded men had so much at heart. There was in all probability heterodoxy enough present to veto to veto "Eternal punishment," though the Council of King's College had lately expelled Maurice on that count, from the two chairs he had filled with so much distinction.

To return to things more mundane ; Lord Wrottesley and Sir Roderick Murchison were very likely talking over the foreign savants who were to be present at the next meeting of the British Association; but whatever the subject, it was sure in Sir Roderick's case, to culminate in some remark about the Czar of All the Russias. The very courteous reception accorded to our English geologist at St. Petersburg

had made a deep impression on the author of "Siluria." The story goes that some mischievous friends made a bet between them, as to the number of times that Sir Roderick Murchison would contrive to bring in the name of his "august friend" during the conversation, which was carefully to be kept off Russia, and all kindred topics. The talk was about feats of memory, and many notable instances were given, when Sir Roderick interposed, saying, "It is a curious fact, that the Emperor Nicholas has the most remarkable memory of any inan I ever met"-then followed an anecdote which the friend who lost his bet, not having a royal memory, somehow forgot.

There was no man whose side faults, deserved to be, and were, more fully forgiven than Sir Roderick's. Generous by nature and in practice, and with sincere convictions, he showed to the class whose inheritance of leisure is too often spent in frivolity or worse, the excellent example of devotion to hard work. I have heard Sir Andrew Ramsay, who frequently accompanied him on his geological surveys, declare, that he never knew a man of such inexhaustible physical and mental energy. Sir Roderick would walk from dawn to sundown, talking all the time of the Paleozoic rocks, never varying the subject, as much as by a mention of strata above the old red sandstone.

Of Sir Roderick's loyalty to the Czar, I may mention the following curious incident. It will be remembered that he had spent some years in Russia, when preparing his great work on the Geological Structure of that country. In the autumn of 1854, Mr. Crosse and I were staying in a country house, where Sir Roderick was also a guest. He took me in to dinner one day, a day to be remembered for the news of the battle of the Alma had reached England. At dinner, amid much enthusiasm, our host proposed that we should all drink to the "success of the British Arms." To my surprise, nay consternation, my neighbor reversed his glass, guarding it with his hand, when the servant was about to pour out the wine.

"Not drink the health of our Army, and you a soldier, Sir Roderick !''

"No," he answered me, "I cannot drink to the success of an unnecessary war; my long friendship with the Emperor Nicholas, has made me aware that

all this might have been prevented, and I believe before many years are over that Statesmen will acknowledge that this is a political mistake.

Several years afterward I was present at one of those delightful meetings, that Sydney Smith used to call in the old days "not Murchison's swarries, but his quarries, where every lady is expected to carry a geological hammer instead of a fan. It was at the time when the Treaty of Paris was virtually set aside, by the reappearance of the Russian Fleet in the Black Sea. In remarking on the circumstance, Sir Roderick said: "I told you years ago, that England would derive no ultimate advantage from the Crimean War !''

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When President of the Geological Society, Sir Roderick usually gave an annual conversazione" at Willis's Rooms, for on these occasions, even his spacious house, 16 Belgrave Square, was not large enough for the numerous guests. "La spirituelle Lady Murchison," as Alexander Humboldt called her, was always present; but one evening, in later years, her kindly presence was missed by all; and on asking Sir Roderick the cause of her absence, he replied "my wife has struck work at last."

To her the learned geologist owed his first initiation into the love of science; she was a good conchologist before they married, and an excellent draughts-wom

an.

Lady Murchison illustrated many of her husband's works. Other men also had wives who helped and sympathized in their scientific labors. General Sabine's wife translated, and he edited, Humboldt's Cosmos. They were a delightful couple; each seemed to reflect the bright intelligence, and the happy amiability of the other. Among the scientific men of that day, there was a marked respect for female intellect, and the women wisely exercised their influence, without clamorously asserting their equality. I know of no one, who made choice of his wife "because she was a goose," as Charles Dickens is reported to have said he did. Courteous chivalry toward women, is averred to be at once the root, and the finest blossom of good manners. The plant flourished in the Fifties, and it is worth preserving.

Among the pleasant gatherings of those days, whether it was Royal Institution