Mr. Wicksteed was very much interested in the case, and called my attention to it, that I might add the story to my repertory of self-helping men. While at York I received a communication from Miss Grace Ellis, the young lady in question, informing me of the name of the astronomer—John Jones, Albert Street, Upper Bangor—and intimating that he would be glad to see me any evening after six. As railways have had the effect of bringing places very close together in point of time—making of Britain, as it were, one great town—and as the autumn was brilliant, and the holiday season not at an end, I had no difficulty in diverging from my journey, and taking Bangor on my way homeward. Starting from York in the morning, and passing through Leeds, Manchester, and Chester, I reached Bangor in the afternoon, and had my first interview with Mr. Jones that very evening.

I found him, as Miss Grace Ellis had described, active, vigorous, and intelligent; his stature short, his face well-formed, his eyes keen and bright. I was first shown into his little parlour downstairs, furnished with his books and some of his instruments; I was then taken to his tiny room upstairs, where he had his big reflecting telescope, by means of which he had seen, through the chamber window, the snowcap of Mars. He is so fond of philology that I found he had no fewer than twenty-six dictionaries, all bought out of his own earnings. "I am fond of all knowledge," he said—"of Reuben, Dan, and Issachar; but I have a favourite, a Benjamin, and that is Astronomy. I would sell all of them into Egypt, but preserve my Benjamin." His story is briefly as follows:—

"I was born at Bryngwyn Bach, Anglesey, in 1818, and I am sixty-five years old. I got the little education I have, when a boy. Owen Owen, who was a cousin of my mother's, kept a school at a chapel in the village of Dwyrain, in Anglesey. It was said of Owen that he never had more than a quarter of a year's schooling, so that he could not teach me much. I went to his school at seven, and remained with him about a year. Then he left; and some time afterwards I went for a short period to an old preacher's school, at Brynsieneyn chapel. There I learnt but little, the teacher being negligent. He allowed the children to play together too much, and he punished them for slight offences, making them obstinate and disheartened. But I remember his once saying to the other children, that I ran through my little lesson 'like a coach.' However, when I was about twelve years old, my father died, and in losing him I lost almost all the little I had learnt during the short periods I had been at school. Then I went to work for the farmers.

"In this state of ignorance I remained for years, until the time came when on Sunday I used to saddle the old black mare for Cadwalladr Williams, the Calvinist Methodist preacher, at Pen Ceint, Anglesey; and after he had ridden away, I used to hide in his library during the sermon, and there I learnt a little that I shall not soon forget. In that way I had many a draught of knowledge, as it were, by stealth. Having a strong taste for music, I was much attracted by choral singing; and on Sundays and in the evenings I tried to copy out airs from different books, and accustomed my hand a little to writing. This tendency was, however, choked within me by too much work with the cattle, and by other farm labour. In a word, I had but little fair weather in my search for knowledge. One thing enticed me from another, to the detriment of my plans; some fair Eve often standing with an apple in hand, tempting me to taste of that.

"The old preacher's books at Pen Ceint were in Welsh. I had not yet learned English, but tried to learn it by comparing one line in the English New Testament with the same line in the Welsh. This was the Hamiltonian method, and the way in which I learnt most languages. I first got an idea of astronomy from reading 'The Solar System,' by Dr. Dick, translated into Welsh by Eleazar Roberts of Liverpool. That book I found on Sundays in the preacher's library; and many a sublime thought it gave me. It was comparatively easy to understand.

"When I was about thirty I was taken very ill, and could no longer work. I then went to Bangor to consult Dr. Humphrys. After I got better I found work at the Port at 12s. a week. I was employed in counting the slates, or loading the ships in the harbour from the railway trucks. I lodged in Fwn Deg, near where Hugh Williams, Gatehouse, then kept a navigation school for young sailors. I learnt navigation, and soon made considerable progress. I also learnt a little arithmetic. At first nearly all the young men were more advanced than myself; but before I left matters were different, and the Scripture words became verified—"the last shall be first." I remained with Hugh Williams six months and a half. During that time I went twice through the 'Tutor's Assistant,' and a month before I left I was taught mensuration. That is all the education I received, and the greater part of it was during my by-hours.

"I got to know English pretty well, though Welsh was the language of those about me. From easy books I went to those more difficult. I was helped in my pronunciation of English by comparing the words with the phonetic alphabet, as published by Thomas Gee of Denbigh, in 1853. With my spare earnings I bought books, especially when my wages began to rise. Mr. Wyatt, the steward, was very kind, and raised my pay from time to time at his pleasure. I suppose I was willing, correct, and faithful. I improved my knowledge by reading books on astronomy. I got, amongst others, 'The Mechanism of the Heavens,' by Denison Olmstead, an American; a very understandable book. Learning English, which was a foreign language to me, led me to learn other languages. I took pleasure in finding out the roots or radixes of words, and from time to time I added foreign dictionaries to my little library. But I took most pleasure in astronomy.

"The perusal of Sir John Herschel's 'Outlines of Astronomy,' and of his 'Treatise on the Telescope,' set my mind on fire. I conceived the idea of making a telescope of my own, for I could not buy one. While reading the Mechanics' Magazine I observed the accounts of men who made telescopes. Why should not I do the same? Of course it was a matter of great difficulty to one who knew comparatively little of the use of tools. But I had a willing mind and willing hands. So I set to work. I think I made my first telescope about twenty years ago. It was thirty-six inches long, and the tube was made of pasteboard. I got the glasses from Liverpool for 4s. 6d. Captain Owens, of the ship Talacra, bought them. He also bought for me, at a bookstall, the Greek Lexicon and the Greek New Testament, for which he paid 7s. 6d. With my new telescope I could see Jupiter's four satellites, the craters on the moon, and some of the double stars. It was a wonderful pleasure to me.

"But I was not satisfied with the instrument. I wanted a bigger and a more perfect one. I sold it and got new glasses from Solomon of London, who was always ready to trust me. I think it was about the year 1868 that I began to make a reflecting telescope. I got a rough disc of glass, from St. Helens, of ten inches diameter. It took me from nine to ten days to grind and polish it ready for parabolising and silvering. I did this by hand labour with the aid of emery, but without a lathe. I finally used rouge instead of emery in grinding down the glass, until I could see my face in the mirror quite plain. I then sent the 8 3/16 inch disc to Mr. George Calver, of Chelmsford, to turn my spherical curve to a parabolic curve, and to silver the mirror, for which I paid him 5L. I mounted this in my timber tube; the focus was ten feet. When everything was complete I tried my instrument on the sky, and found it to have good defining power. The diameter of the other glass I have made is a little under six inches.

"You ask me if their performance satisfies me? Well; I have compared my six-inch reflector with a 4 1/4 inch refractor, through my window, with a power of 100 and 140. I can't say which was the best. But if out on a clear night I think my reflector would take more power than the refractor. However that may be, I saw the snowcap on the planet Mars quite plain; and it is satisfactory to me so far. With respect to the 8 3/16 inch glass, I am not quite satisfied with it yet; but I am making improvements, and I believe it will reward my labour in the end."

Besides these instruments John Jones has an equatorial which is mounted on a tripod stand, made by himself. It contains the right ascension, declination, and azimuth index, all neatly carved upon slate. In his spectroscope he makes his prisms out of the skylights used in vessels. These he grinds down to suit his purpose. I have not been able to go into the complete detail of the manner in which he effects the grinding of his glasses. It is perhaps too technical to be illustrated in words, which are full of focuses, parabolas, and convexities. But enough may be gathered from the above account to give an idea of the wonderful tenacity of this aged student, who counts his slates into the ships by day, and devotes his evenings to the perfecting of his astronomical instruments. But not only is he an astronomer and a philologist; he is also a bard, and his poetry is much admired in the district. He writes in Welsh, not in English, and signs himself "Ioan, of Bryngwyn Bach," the place where he was born. Indeed, he is still at a loss for words when he speaks in English. He usually interlards his conversation with passages in Welsh, which is his mother-tongue. A friend has, however, done me the favour to translate two of John Jones's poems into English. The first is 'The Telescope':—

"To Heaven it points, where rules the Sun In golden gall'ries bright; And the pale Moon in silver rays Makes dalliance in the night.

"It sweeps with eagle glances The sky, its myriad throng, That myriad throng to marshal And bring to us their song.

"Orb upon orb it follows As oft they intertwine, And worlds in vast processions As if in battle line.

"It loves all things created, To follow and to trace; And never fears to penetrate The dark abyss of space."

The next is to 'The Comet':—

"A maiden fair, with light of stars bedecked, Starts out of space at Jove's command; With visage wild, and long dishevelled hair, Speeds she along her starry course; The hosts of heaven regards she not,— Fain would she scorn them all except her father Sol, Whose mighty influence her headlong course doth all control."

The following translation may also be given: it shows that the bard is not without a spice of wit. A fellow-workman teased him to write some lines; when John Jones, in a seemingly innocent manner, put some questions, and ascertained that he had once been a tailor. Accordingly this epigram was written, and appeared in the local paper the week after: "To a quondam Tailor, now a Slate-teller":—

"To thread and needle now good-bye, With slates I aim at riches; The scissors will I ne'er more ply, Nor make, but order, breeches."[12]

The bi-lingual speech is the great educational difficulty of Wales. To get an entrance into literature and science requires a knowledge of English; or, if not of English, then of French or German. But the Welsh language stands in the way. Few literary or scientific works are translated into Welsh. Hence the great educational difficulty continues, and is maintained from year to year by patriotism and Eisteddfods.

Possibly the difficulties to be encountered may occasionally evoke unusual powers of study; but this can only occur in exceptional cases. While at Bangor Mr. Cadwalladr Davies read to me the letter of a student and professor, whose passion for knowledge is of an extraordinary character. While examined before the Parliamentary Committee appointed to inquire into the condition of intermediate and higher education in Wales and Monmouthshire, Mr. Davies gave evidence relating to this and other remarkable cases, of which the following is an abstract, condensed by himself:—

"The night schools in the quarry districts have been doing a very great work; and, if the Committee will allow me, I will read an extract from a letter which I received from Mr. Bradley Jones, master of the Board Schools at Llanarmon, near Mold, Flintshire, who some years ago kept a very flourishing night school in the neighbourhood. He says: 'During the whole of the time (fourteen years) that I was at Carneddi, I carried on these schools, and I believe I have had more experience of such institutions than any teacher in North Wales. For several years about 120 scholars used to attend the Carneddi night school in the winter months, four evenings a week. Nearly all were quarrymen, from fourteen to twenty-one years of age, and engaged at work from 7 A.M. to 5.30 P.M. So intense was their desire for education that some of them had to walk a distance of two or even three miles to school. These, besides working hard all day, had to walk six miles in the one case and nine in the other before school-time, in addition to the walk home afterwards. Several of them used to attend all the year round, even coming to me for lessons in summer before going to work, as well as in the evening. Indeed, so anxious were some of them, that they would often come for lessons as early as five o'clock in the morning. This may appear almost incredible, but any of the managers of the Carneddi School could corroborate the statement.'

"I have now in my mind's eye," continues Mr. Bradley, "several of these young men, who, by dint of indefatigable labour and self-denial, ultimately qualified themselves for posts in which a good education is a sine qua non. Some of them are to-day quarry managers, professional men, certificated teachers, and ministers of the Gospel. Five of them are at the present time students at Bala College. One got a situation in the Glasgow Post Office as letter-carrier. During his leisure hours he attended the lectures at one of the medical schools of that city, and in course of time gained his diploma. He is now practising as a surgeon, and I understand with signal success. This gentleman worked in the Penrhyn Quarry until he was twenty years old. I could give many more instances of the resolute and self-denying spirit with which the young quarrymen of Bethesda sought to educate themselves. The teachers of the other schools in that neighbourhood could give similar examples, for during the winter months there used to be no less than 300 evening scholars under instruction in the different schools. The Bethesda booksellers could tell a tale that would surprise our English friends. I have been informed by one of them that he has sold to young quarrymen an immense number of such works as Lord Macaulay's, Stuart Mill's, and Professor Fawcett's; and it is no uncommon sight to find these and similar works read and studied by the young quarrymen during the dinner hour."

"I can give," proceeds Mr. Cadwalladr Davies, "one remarkable instance to show the struggles which young Welshmen have to undertake in order to get education. The boy in question, the son of 'poor but honest parents,' left the small national school of his native village when he was 12 1/2 years of age, and then followed his father's occupation of shoemaking until he was 16 1/2 years of age. After working hard at his trade for four years, he, his brother, and two fellow apprentices, formed themselves into a sort of club to learn shorthand, the whole matter being kept a profound secret. They had no teachers, and they met at the gas-works, sitting opposite the retorts on a bench supported at each end with bricks. They did not penetrate far into the mysteries of Welsh shorthand; they soon abandoned the attempt, and induced the village schoolmaster to open a night school.

"This, however, did not last long. The young Crispin was returning late one night from Llanrwst in company with a lad of the same age, and both having heard much of the blessings of education from a Scotch lady who took a kindly interest in them, their ambition was inflamed, and they entered into a solemn compact that they would thenceforward devote themselves body and soul to the attainment of an academical degree. Yet they were both poor. One was but a shoemaker's apprentice, while the other was a pupil teacher earning but a miserable weekly pittance. One could do the parts of speech; the other could not. One had struggled with the pans asinorum; the other had never seen it. I may mention that the young pupil teacher is now a curate in the Church of England. He is a graduate of Cambridge University and a prizeman of Clare College. But to return to the little shoemaker.

"After returning home from Llanrwst, he disburthened his heart to his mother, and told her that shoemaking, which until now he had pursued with extraordinary zest, could no longer interest him. His mother, who was equal to the emergency, sent the boy to a teacher of the old school, who had himself worked his way from the plough. After the exercise of considerable diplomacy, an arrangement was arrived at whereby the youth was to go to school on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and make shoes during the remaining days of the week. This suited him admirably. That very night he seized upon a geography, and began to learn the counties of England and Wales. The fear of failure never left him for two hours together, except when he slept. The plan of work was faithfully kept; though by this time shoemaking had lost its charms. He shortened his sleeping hours, and rose at any moment that he awoke—at two, three, or four in the morning. He got his brother, who had been plodding with him over shorthand, to study horticulture, and fruit and vegetable culture; and that brother shortly after took a high place in an examination held by the Royal Horticultural Society. For a time, however, they worked together; and often did their mother get up at four o'clock in the depth of winter, light their fire, and return to bed after calling them up to the work of self-culture. Even this did not satisfy their devouring ambition. There was a bed in the workshop, and they obtained permission to sleep there. Then they followed their own plans. The young gardener would sit up till one or two in the morning, and wake his brother, who had gone to bed as soon as he had given up work the night before.

Now he got up and studied through the small hours of the morning until the time came when he had to transfer his industry to shoemaking, or go to school on the appointed days after the distant eight o'clock had come. His brother had got worn out. Early sleep seemed to be the best. They then both went to bed about eight o'clock, and got the policeman to call them up before retiring himself.

"So the struggle went on, until the faithful old schoolmaster thought that his young pupil might try the examination at the Bangor Normal College. He was now eighteen years of age; and it was eighteen months since the time when he began to learn the counties of England and Wales. He went to Bangor, rigged out in his brother's coat and waistcoat, which were better than his own; and with his brother's watch in his pocket to time himself in his examinations. He went through his examination, but returned home thinking he had failed. Nevertheless, he had in the meantime, on the strength of a certificate which he had obtained six months before, in an examination held by the Society of Arts and Sciences in Liverpool, applied for a situation as teacher in a grammar-school at Ormskirk in Lancashire. He succeeded in his application, and had been there for only eight days when he received a letter from Mr. Rowlands, Principal of the Bangor Normal College, informing him that he had passed at the head of the list, and was the highest non-pupil teacher examined by the British and Foreign Society. Having obtained permission from his master to leave, he packed his clothes and his few books. He had not enough money to carry him home; but, unasked, the master of the school gave him 10s. He arrived home about three o'clock on a Sunday morning, after a walk of eleven miles over a lonely road from the place where the train had stopped. He reeled on the way, and found the country reeling too. He had been sleeping eight nights in a damp bed. Six weeks of the Bangor Session passed, and during that time he had been delirious, and was too weak to sit up in bed. But the second time he crossed the threshold of his home he made for Bangor and got back his "position," which was all important to him, and he kept it all through.

"Having finished his course at Bangor he went to keep a school at Brynaman; he endeavoured to study but could not. After two years he gave up the school, and with 60L. saved he faced the world once more. There was a scholarship of the value of 40L. a year, for three years, attached to one of the Scotch Universities, to be competed for. He knew the Latin Grammar, and had, with help, translated one of the books of Caesar. Of Greek he knew nothing, save the letters and the first declension of nouns; but in May he began to read in earnest at a farmhouse. He worked every day from 6 A.M. to 12 P.M. with only an hour's intermission. He studied the six Latin and two Greek books prescribed; he did some Latin composition unaided; brushed up his mathematics; and learnt something of the history of Greece and Rome. In October, after five months of hard work, he underwent an examination for the scholarship, and obtained it; beating his opponent by twenty-eight marks in a thousand. He then went up to the Scotch University and passed all the examinations for his ordinary M.A. degree in two years and a half. On his first arrival at the University he found that he could not sleep; but he wearily yet victoriously plodded on; took a prize in Greek, then the first prize in philosophy, the second prize in logic, the medal in English literature, and a few other prizes.

"He had 40L. when he first arrived in Scotland; and he carried away with him a similar sum to Germany, whither he went to study for honours in philosophy. He returned home with little in his pocket, borrowing money to go to Scotland, where he sat for honours and for the scholarship. He got his first honours, and what was more important at the time, money to go on with. He now lives on the scholarship which he took at that time; is an assistant professor; and, in a fortnight, will begin a course of lectures for ladies in connection with his university. Writing to me a few days ago,[13] he says, 'My health, broken down with my last struggle, is quite restored, and I live with the hope of working on. Many have worked more constantly, but few have worked more intensely. I found kindness on every hand always, but had I failed in a single instance I should have met with entire bankruptcy. The failure would have been ruinous.... I thank God for the struggle, but would not like to see a dog try it again. There are droves of lads in Wales that would creep up but they cannot. Poverty has too heavy a hand for them.'"

The gentleman whose brief history is thus summarily given by Mr. Davies, is now well known as a professor of philosophy; and, if his health be spared, he will become still better known. He is the author of several important works on 'Moral Philosophy,' published by a leading London firm; and more works are announced from his pen. The victorious struggle for knowledge which we have recounted might possibly be equalled, but it could not possibly be surpassed. There are, however, as Mr. Davies related to the Parliamentary Committee, many instances of Welsh students—most of them originally quarrymen—who keep themselves at school by means of the savings effected from manual labour, "in frequent cases eked out and helped by the kindness of friends and neighbours," who struggle up through many difficulties, and eventually achieve success in the best sense of the term. "One young man"—as the teacher of a grammar-school, within two miles of Bangor, related to Mr. Davies—"who came to me from the quarry some time ago, was a gold medallist at Edinburgh last winter;" and contributions are readily made by the quarrymen to help forward any young man who displays an earnest desire for knowledge in science and literature.

It is a remarkable fact that the quarrymen of Carnarvonshire have voluntarily contributed large sums of money towards the establishment of the University College in North Wales—the quarry districts in that county having contributed to that fund, in the course of three years, mostly in half-crown subscriptions, not less than 508L. 4s. 4d.—"a fact," says Mr. Davies, "without its parallel in the history of the education of any country;" the most striking feature being, that these collections were made in support of an institution from which the quarrymen could only very remotely derive any benefit.

While I was at Bangor, on the 24th of August, 1883, the news arrived that the Committee of Selection had determined that Bangor should be the site for the intended North Wales University College. The news rapidly spread, and great rejoicings prevailed throughout the borough, which had just been incorporated. The volunteer band played through the streets; the church bells rang merry peals; and gay flags were displayed from nearly every window. There never was such a triumphant display before in the cause of University education.

As Mr. Cadwalladr Davies observed at the banquet, which took place on the following day: "The establishment of the new institution will mark the dawn of a new era in the history of the Welsh people. He looked to it, not only as a means of imparting academical knowledge to the students within its walls, but also as a means of raising the intellectual and moral tone of the whole people. They were fond of quoting the saying of a great English writer, that there was something Grecian in the Celtic race, and that the Celtic was the refining element in the British character; but such remarks, often accompanied as they were with offensive comparisons from Eisteddfod platforms, would in future be put to the test, for they would, with their new educational machinery, be placed on a footing of perfect equality with the Scotch and the Irish people."

And here must come to an end the character history of my autumn tour in Ireland, Scotland, Yorkshire, and Wales. I had not the remotest intention when setting out of collecting information and writing down my recollections of the journey. But the persons I met, and the information I received, were of no small interest—at least to myself; and I trust that the reader will derive as much pleasure from perusing my observations as I have had in collecting and writing them down. I do think that the remarkable persons whose history and characters I have endeavoured, however briefly, to sketch, will be found to afford many valuable and important lessons of Self-Help; and to illustrate how the moral and industrial foundations of a country may be built up and established.

Footnotes for Chapter XII.

[1] A "poet," who dates from "New York, March 1883," has published seven stanzas, entitled "Change here for Blairgowrie," from which we take the following:—

"From early morn till late at e'en, John's honest face is to be seen, Bustling about the trains between, Be 't sunshine or be 't showery; And as each one stops at his door, He greets it with the well-known roar Of 'Change here for Blairgowrie.' Even when the still and drowsy night Has drawn the curtains of our sight, John's watchful eyes become more bright, And take another glow'r aye Thro' yon blue dome of sparkling stars Where Venus bright and ruddy Mars Shine down upon Blairgowrie. He kens each jinkin' comet's track, And when it's likely to come back, When they have tails, and when they lack— In heaven the waggish power aye; When Jupiter's belt buckle hings, And the Pyx mark on Saturn's rings, He sees from near Blairgowrie."

[2] The Observatory, No. 61, p. 146; and No. 68, p. 371.

[3] In an article on the subject in the Dundee Evening Telegraph, Mr. Robertson observes: "If our finite minds were more capable of comprehension, what a glorious view of the grandeur of the Deity would be displayed to us in the contemplation of the centre and source of light and heat to the solar system. The force requisite to pour such continuous floods to the remotest parts of the system must ever baffle the mind of man to grasp. But we are not to sit down in indolence: our duty is to inquire into Nature's works, though we can never exhaust the field. Our minds cannot imagine motion without some Power moving through the medium of some subordinate agency, ever acting on the sun, to send such floods of light and heat to our otherwise cold and dark terrestrial ball; but it is the overwhelming magnitude of such power that we are incapable of comprehending. The agency necessary to throw out the floods of flame seen during the few moments of a total eclipse of the sun, and the power requisite to burst open a cavity in its surface, such as could entirely engulph our earth, will ever set all the thinking capacity of man at nought."

[4] The Observatory, Nos. 34, 42, 45, 49, and 58.

[5] We regret to say that Sheriff Barclay died a few months ago, greatly respected by all who knew him.

[6] Sir E. Denison Beckett, in his Rudimentary Treatise on clocks and Watches and Bells, has given an instance or the telescope-driving clock, invented by Mr. Cooke (p. 213).

[7] J. Norman Lockyer, F.R.S.—Stargazing, Past and Present, p. 302.

[8] This excellent instrument is now in the possession of my son-in-law, Dr. Hartree, of Leigh, near Tunbridge.

[9] An interesting account of Mr. Alvan Clark is given in Professor Newcomb's 'Popular Astronomy,' p. 137.

[10] A photographic representation of this remarkable telescope is given as the frontispiece to Mr. Lockyer's Stargazing, Past and Present; and a full description of the instrument is given in the text of the same work. This refracting telescope did not long remain the largest. Mr. Alvan Clark was commissioned to erect a larger equatorial for Washington Observatory; the object-glass (the rough disks of which were also furnished by Messrs. Chance of Birmingham) exceeding in aperture that of Mr. Cooke's by only one inch. This was finished and mounted in November, 1873. Another instrument of similar size and power was manufactured by Mr. Clark for the University of Virginia. But these instruments did not long maintain their supremacy. In 1881, Mr. Howard Grubb, of Dublin, manufactured a still larger instrument for the Austrian Government—the object-glass being of twenty-seven inches aperture. But Mr. Alvan Clark was not to be beaten. In 1882, he supplied the Russian Government with the largest refracting telescope in existence the object-glass being of thirty inches diameter. Even this, however, is to be surpassed by the lens which Mr. Clark has in hand for the Lick Observatory (California), which is to have a clear aperture of three feet in diameter.

[11] Since the above passage was written and in type, I have seen (in September 1884) the reflecting telescope referred to at pp. 357-8. It was mounted on its cast-iron equatorial stand, and at work in the field adjoining the village green at Bainbridge, Yorkshire. The mirror of the telescope is 8 inches in diameter; its focal length, 5 feet; and the tube in which it is mounted, about 6 feet long. The instrument seemed to me to have an excellent defining power.

But Mr. Lancaster, like every eager astronomer, is anxious for further improvements. He considers the achromatic telescope the king of instruments, and is now engaged in testing convex optical surfaces, with a view to achieving a telescope of that description. The chief difficulty is the heavy charge for the circular blocks of flint glass requisite for the work which he meditates. "That," he says, "is the great difficulty with amateurs of my class." He has, however, already contrived and constructed a machine for grinding and polishing the lenses in an accurate convex form, and it works quite satisfactorily. Mr. Lancaster makes his own tools. From the raw material, whether of glass or steel, he produces the work required. As to tools, all that he requires is a bar of steel and fire; his fertile brain and busy hands do the rest. I looked into the little workshop behind his sitting-room, and found it full of ingenious adaptations. The turning lathe occupies a considerable part of it; but when he requires more space, the village smith with his stithy, and the miller with his water-power, are always ready to help him. His tools, though not showy, are effective. His best lenses are made by himself: those which he buys are not to be depended upon. The best flint glass is obtained from Paris in blocks, which he divides, grinds, and polishes to perfect form.

I was attracted by a newly made machine, placed on a table in the sitting-room; and on inquiry found that its object was to grind and polish lenses. Mr. Lancaster explained that the difficulty to be overcome in a good machine, is to make the emery cut the surface equally from centre to edge of the lens, so that the lens will neither lengthen nor shorten the curve during its production. To quote his words: "This really involves the problem of the 'three bodies,' or disturbing forces so celebrated in dynamical mathematics, and it is further complicated by another quantity, the 'coefficient of attrition,' or work done by the grinding material, as well as the mischief done by capillary attraction and nodal points of superimposed curves in the path of the tool. These complications tend to cause rings or waves of unequal wear in the surface of the glass, and ruin the defining power of the lens, which depends upon the uniformity of its curve. As the outcome of much practical experiment, combined with mathematical research, I settled upon the ratio of speed between the sheave of the lens-tool guide and the turn-table; between whose limits the practical equalization of wear (or cut of the emery) might with the greater facility be adjusted, by means of varying the stroke and eccentricity of the tool. As the result of these considerations in the construction of the machine, the surface of the glass 'comes up' regularly all over the lens; and the polishing only takes a few minutes' work—thus keeping the truth of surface gained by using a rigid tool."

The machine in question consists of a revolving sheave or ring, with a sliding strip across its diameter; the said strip having a slot and clamping screw at one end, and a hole towards the other, through which passes the axis of the tool used in forming the lens,—the slot in the strip allowing the tool to give any stroke from 0 to 1.25 inch. The lens is carried on a revolving turn-table, with an arrangement to allow the axis of the lens to coincide with the axis of the table. The ratio of speed between the sheave and turn-table is arranged by belt and properly sized pulleys, and the whole can be driven either by hand or by power. The sheave merely serves as a guide to the tool in its path, and the lens may either be worked on the turn-table or upon a chuck attached to the tool rod. The work upon the lens is thus to a great extent independent of the error of the machine through shaking, or bad fitting, or wear; and the only part of the machine which requires really first-class work is the axis of the turn-table, which (in this machine) is a conical bearing at top, with steel centre below,—the bearing turned, hardened, and then ground up true, and run in anti-friction metal. Other details might be given, but these are probably enough for present purposes. We hope, at some future time, for a special detail of Mr. Lancaster's interesting investigations, from his own mind and pen.

[12] The translations are made by W. Cadwalladr Davies, Esq.

[13] This evidence was given by Mr. W. Cadwalladr Davies on the 28th October, 1880.

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