tered arms of France and England. The reverse is a rich cross flory within a circle of eight arches, and a lion under a crown in each angle of the cross, the legend being, "Ihesus autem transiens per medium illorum ibat." In Edward IV.'s time the noble had increased in value to 10s., and the double-noble, or sovereign, was first coined by Henry VII. In the same reign was first coined the shilling (or testoon), valued, as now, at twelvepence. It bore the king's profile, crowned on one side, and the royal arms quartered by the cross (as on the modern florin) upon the other. - these (after having been carefully assayed), along with the proper quantity of alloy, i. e. one part of copper to eleven parts of gold, are melted in each crucible; the crucible itself being made of a mixture of Stourbridge fire-clay and plumbago. When thoroughly melted together (which may be after an hour and a half or two hours in the furnace), the precious mixture is cast in iron moulds into the shape of bars two or three feet long.* These we may follow into the next room, and see gradually reduced, by repeated rollings, nearer and nearer to the thinness of the future coin. In the case of gold, where the utmost possible exactness is required, each bar (or strip, as it may now be called) has to undergo a more exact adjustment to the required dimensions, by being drawn between two fixed steel rollers, which are placed at precisely the correct distance from each other. The ease and exactness with which this powerful machinery works is truly admirable. It bears the maker's name, "H. Maudsley, 1816," and is still in perfect working order, and scarcely ever needs repairs. As the golden ribbons are turned out by this machine they are cut into convenient lengths, and a blank coin is stamped out of each and carefully weighed, as a further test that the thickness is correct. In the Middle Ages there were many mints in England beside the king's. Barons and bishops coined money of themselves, and in some cases the privilege was extended to monasteries. Wolsey exercised the right to coin money, both as Bishop of Durham and Archbishop of York; and there are coins extant of the Archbishops of Canterbury, at intervals from A. D. 793 to the close of the reign of Henry VIII. The principal mint in the kingdom appears, however, to have been situated in or close to the Tower of London, at all events since A. D. 1350, though it was not till the time of William III. that it became the sole establishment of the kind.* And though the process of coining by screw machinery was first introduced in the reign of Eliza- "And now let us come into the "cutting-room," beth, it did not finally supersede the clumsy, old- where, amid din and noise hardly less than in the fashioned method till the reign of Charles II. It is "rolling-room," the blanks are being cut out one by remarkable that with all our modern appliances we one from the golden ribbons. One is reminded of have never reached the beauty of some of the ear-cutting gun-wads from a sheet of pasteboard; and liest of these machine-struck coins: witness the fa- the ribbons, when all the possible blanks have been mousSimon's petition crown," which has never punched out of them, look like the same sheets of been equalled, unless it be by Wyon's Victoria crown- pasteboard when used up, though they are a trifle piece, which we believe was never issued, and of more valuable! The punches are of course worked which we have only seen a single specimen. by machinery, and there may be a dozen or more of them, incessantly going up and down with almost resistless force, each being a sort of refined edition of the engine which every one must have seen for cutting out rivet-holes in boiler-plates. By the side of each sits a workman with his strip of gold ribbon, out of which he lets the descending punch cut, one by one, as many blanks as there is room for. we have watched the process for a minute or two, we begin to wonder what check is kept on the workmen to prevent their appropriating a stray blank or two out of the heaps which are lying about in such profusion and confusion. On inquiry we learn that the exact weight of ribbon given to each man is set down; and that not one of the men can leave the room till the weight of the blanks returned, plus that of the ribbon waste, is found to tally exactly with the original supply. Were there a deficiency, the men would be searched; and if the missing gold could nowhere and nohow be found, the whole set of men (as has once happened) would be dismissed. The introduction of every kind of improvement into the Mint was again and again retarded by the opposition of the moneyers, a corporation who claimed the exclusive right, which they had exercised for centuries, to be employed in working the coinage. It was so lately as 1851 that this obstruction was finally removed. At the same time the Mastership of the Mint ceased to be held as a political appointment, and was restored to the position of a permanent office, - the master becoming once more the ostensible executive head of the establish ment. The present building was erected in 1810, and fitted up with the larger part of its existing machinery. It is situated on the north side of Tower Hill, and may be at once recognized not only by its size, but by the soldiers who are always on guard in front of it, as at one of the royal palaces. We have a "master's order," so we may without longer delay claim admission, and examine for ourselves the various processes by which money is made on a larger scale than anywhere else in the whole world. In the first room we enter we may see, if fortunate, the process of melting and alloying. The gold comes in from the Bank † in the form of ingots, bearing the name and stamp of the refiner, usually Messrs. Rothschilds'. These ingots weigh 16 lbs. each, and are worth about £ 800. Half a dozen of * In 1643 a mint was established at New Inn Hall, Oxford, where the plate of the college was coined, to enable Charles I. to provide means for carrying on hostilities against the Parliament. Theoretically the Mint is bound to coin gold for any one who brings bullion for that purpose. Practically, however, it is coined exclusively for the Bank of England; for since the Bank is obliged to purchase any bullion brought to it at the rate of £3 17s. 9d. the ounce, the merchant or dealer can obtain no additional profit by having it coined on his own account. After As a preliminary process to the coining, the blanks are next made to pass through the "marking-machine," by which their edges are smoothened and *Silver is alloyed with 7 per cent of copper. The new bronze money is composed of 95 parts of copper, 4 of tin, and 1 of zinc. It is usual to speak of gold as being so many carats fine. Strictly speaking, a carat is a weight, and equals 3 grains troy. And in this sense the jeweller speaks of a diamond of so many carats, i. e. of a certain weight. The goldsmith uses the term to denote a proportion, viz., and speaks of gold as so many carats fine, i. e. of a certain purity. Thus a diamond of 20 carats means a diamond weighing 63 grains. Gold of 20 carats means gold of which are pure metal, and the rest alloy. The English standard is 22 carats, there being 22 parts pure gold to 2 of alloy: 18 carats is the usual standard for good jewelry, watch-cases, &c. The bronze blanks are cut out by machinery, at the rate of two hundred and fifty a minute; but the less accuracy and the larger number of imperfect specimens turned out make it more economical for the gold and silver to be cut out by hand. raised. All blanks go through this process, which | (123.274 grains) is allowed as the limit of variation gives the final edge to bronze coins and to three-in a sovereign; and something more in the case of penny-pieces; the other silver coins, as well as the silver money. If the excess or defect be greater sovereign and half-sovereign, have a milling put on than this, the coin is rejected and must be remelted. subsequently. By this time they have become so This happens with about fifteen per cent of the hardened as to be scarcely workable. To remedy whole. this they are next annealed, and are subsequently cleansed from tarnish or oxide by an acid bath. The effect upon the silver blanks is almost magical. A few minutes in the bath changes them from nearly black to delicate frosted white. A drying in hot sawdust follows, and they are then ready for the final process which will change them from blanks into perfect coins. Let us follow them to where this transformation takes place. We soon find that we must make the utmost use of our eyes, for the noise is so great that to hear our guide's explanation of what we see is out of the question. The first thing that catches the eye is a solid stone counter, evidently built with a view to immense firmness, which runs the whole length of the room. Along this, at regular intervals, screwpresses of vast strength are at work, having the same up-and-down motion which we saw in the blank-cutting engines. Instead of the punch, however, it is a steel die which ascends and descends, engraved with the device to be impressed on one side of the coin. The reverse die is fixed, immediately underneath, on a solid block which has to resist the whole pressure (equal to thirty-five tons) of the descending shaft. Fitting somewhat loosely round this lower die, and rising slightly above it, is a steel collar, on the inside of which is cut the "milling." The huge machine is perfectly automatic. A supply of blanks having been placed in the little funnel which feeds it, a metallic finger places the bottom blank exactly within the steel collar upon the fixed die. The next moment, quietly but with crushing force, the upper die descends upon it. Each die leaves its impression as quickly, and apparently with as much ease, as if the material were hot sealing-wax instead of cold metal. At the same moment the edges of the blank swelling out against the collar take the pattern of the milling. Simultaneously with the rise of the upper die, a lever causes the collar to sink, the new-struck coin is released, and the arrival of the next blank knocks it off into the receptacle below. The whole process from first to last may have taken three seconds, probably less. The eight presses in this room can, if needful, turn out two hundred thousand coins a day; their average number may be sixty thousand or seventy thousand. Let us follow the coins one stage further. We find ourselves in a room as quiet as the last was noisy. Yet here too are a number of automatic machines ranged down the middle. They present, however, the greatest possible contrast with those we have just left; for instead of vast strength and power, their characteristic is exquisite delicacy; indeed, each of them works under a glass case, and is not larger than a moderate-sized drawing-room clock, though they are worth £ 250 apiece. But what are they? What are they doing, each with its little pile of bright new money? They are self-acting weighing-machines; so accurate and so clever in their working that one might almost fancy them alive. One by one the coins place themselves on the end of the scale-beam, linger a second there, and then drop down a little covered way into one of three boxes: if of the correct weight, into No. 1; if too heavy, into No. 2; if too light, into No. 3. A quarter of a grain over or under the standard weight We despair of conveying any idea of the principle on which these exquisite machines work, without the help of elaborate diagrams. The finished and perfect coins are put up in bags of a given weight, ready for the final process of pyxing. This consists in subjecting a couple of coins taken at random from each bag to a further testing by weight and assay. Now and then the greater "Trial of the Pyx" is held, at which the Lord Chancellor or the Chancellor of the Exchequer presides, with members of the Privy Council as assessors, and a jury chosen from the Goldsmiths' Company. The coins are first tried by weight, and are then melted into a bar, from which the assay trials are taken. A favorable verdict proves that the officers of the Mint have done their duty, and gives a public attestation of the standard purity of the coins. We may add a word or two respecting the dies used at the Mint, the die-room being generally the last which visitors are shown over. The original die, in hard steel, as engraved by Mr. Wyon, is never used in the coining-press. A copy in relief is taken of it in soft steel by means of pressure. This is hardened by some undivulged process, and serves in turn as the matrix for the actual die (in intaglio) to be employed. The wear and tear is so great that a die seldom lasts above one day, and sometimes breaks under the first stroke. It may be interesting to learn the total number of 8,656,352 1,758,490 1,861,200 4,518,360 4,253,042 3,440,640 In the last ten years the number of sovereigns coined has been 52,696,355. It will be observed that no half-crown nor fourpenny-pieces were struck. Their issue has been discontinued for the last ten years or more, probably because they would prove to be an inconvenient fraction of the pound in case of a decimal system of coinage being adopted. No five-shilling pieces have been coined for many years, probably on account of their size. Yet Mr. Wyon's Victoria crown-piece was perhaps the handsomest coin ever produced in England. It was found, however, besides being very large, to be too expensively elaborate for practical issue.* WILLIAM COWPER.† LIVES of Cowper abound. Some of these, as for instance, the biographies written by Taylor, Memes, Greatheed, and Seeley were produced for a sectarian purpose, and have no literary pretensions. Of those written with a wider aim, William Hayley, once recognized as a poet, but now known only as the friend of Cowper, wrote, perhaps, the worst, unless, indeed, the revision of that life by Grim It is almost impossible to specify all the sources from which the different statements made in this paper have been collected. In every case where personal observation or knowledge has been insuf ficient the best authorities have been made use of. The Poetical Works of WILLIAM COWPER. With Notes and a Memoir, by JOHN BRUCE. Saturday shawe, with its pious platitudes and dreary imbecil- | scale. It is sufficient to make us look forward with ity, be not entitled to unenviable precedence. The interest to the promised publication, which will best is by Southey. His edition of the works re- probably throw light upon some points in Cowper's tains its place as the most complete hitherto pub-biography that have been hitherto obscure. lished. When the announcement of this edition It has been said that at the present time there is appeared, Mr. Grimshawe was brought forward by but slight demand for the works of Cowper, and the party opposed to Southey's theological views, as that, although we are accustomed to regard him as "the only living man who could do justice to the one of our most popular poets, he is seldom read and life of Cowper." They had in their possession the little appreciated. The appearance of this beauticopyright of the two volumes of "Private Corre-ful edition of the poetical works, and the promise of spondence" which had been edited twelve years another memoir and another edition to appear in previously by Dr. J. Johnson, and hurried out their Mr. Macmillan's "Golden Treasury Series," seem to work before the engravings for it were ready, as- belie this statement, which I would fain hope is unserting it to be, on the ground of this correspond- true, not for Cowper's sake, since his position in our ence, the only complete edition. Southey's edition literature is secure, but for the sake of readers who meanwhile was advancing steadily, but not hastily, are unable to enjoy the sound English food he proto completion. The publication of Grimshawe's vides for them. This sensitive, diffident, melancholy Cowper compelled him to alter the plan of his work. recluse seemed to have the power of fascinating His publishers had been in treaty for the "Private every one with whom he was brought into contact. Correspondence," and he had intended to publish Mrs. Unwin devoted her life to him; and her son, the whole of it, inserting in the life only such ex- so long as he was spared, was almost equally detracts from the letters as might be spun into the voted. Cowper's cousin, Lady Hesketh, watched thread of the narration. Being frustrated in this over him with sisterly affection; and her sister, design, he was compelled, he tells us, to work more Theodora, his first and only love, remained a spinin mosaic, making such use of Dr. J. Johnson's col-ster for his sake. John Newton, who, with his bluff, lection, as he had an unquestionable right to make, healthy, sailor-like nature, differed from the poet, as and bringing into his narrative the whole of the in- a well-developed muscular Christian differs from a formation contained therein. On the other hand, hypochondriacal invalid, wrote of Cowper and acted Southey, besides the immense advantages he pos- towards him with sincerest affection. He says that sessed over his rival in literary aptitude for the task, during seven years they were "seldom seven succesreceived the friendly co-operation of Cowper's rela- sive working hours separated." Then there was tives, and of the descendants of Cowper's friends, Joseph Hill, and was thus enabled to give a variety of information, and to publish many interesting letters, which could not be made use of in Grimshawe's edition. Time is the frequent adjuster of these quarrels between publishers and between authors. The edition published " surreptitiously was assigned to the lumber shelves of libraries, while Southey's held its place as the best issued. It contains in its present shape the correspondence which gave rise to the contention. The edition of Cowper's Poetical Works, edited by Mr. John Bruce, is substantially a reprint of the Aldinc. But a new memoir has been prefixed, and "the editor has taken pains on two points; the one, to approach to a settlement of the text by a collation of all doubtful passages, with the editions published in Cowper's lifetime, and with the chief of those which have appeared more recently; the other point has been to add brief illustrative 'notes on passages which contain allusions to persons or circumstances which have faded out of general knowledge." This design has been admirably executed. The explanatory notes, brief as such notes should be, elucidate the text without burdening it, and on the score of textual accuracy this is the best edition of Cowper's poems that has yet appeared. The memoir occupies about one hundred and seventy pages of the first volume, and is marked by good taste and feeling. Much matter is skilfully compressed into a small compass, and nothing superfluous finds admission. Mr. Bruce remarks that our knowledge of facts relating to Cowper is cumulative, and several are here recorded which the reader will not meet with elsewhere. He adds that he is in possession of "various letters and papers connected with the poet which have never yet seen the light," and that he has in hand "a larger biography, which will erelong be published separately." In the memoir, therefore, Mr. Bruce has given us a sample of what he intends to produce on a larger "An honest man, close buttoned to the chin, Broadcloth without, and a warm heart within," to whom Cowper's conduct must have been an enig- a man," says Cowper, "of letters and of genius, who can be lively without levity, and pensive without dejection; but," he adds, "he smokes tobacco, - nothing is perfect! — Nihil est ab omni, -- And in the enumeration of Cowper's friends we must not omit the Throckmortons, or Rose, or Bagot, or Johnson, his "dearest Johnny," -or the lively, witty, versatile Lady Austen, who probably quarrelled with Mrs. Unwin out of pure affection for the poet. The man who thus won all hearts to him, while living, possesses still the love and admiration of his countrymen. The village of Olney, dismal and damp now as when the poet lived there, is a shrine for poetry-loving pilgrims, and the figure of Cowper, with his cap on in the garden-house, is as familiar as any portrait in our literature. Of this garden-house, or "boudoir," as Cowper loved best to call it, he wrote as follows to Lady Hesketh, on a lovely May morning eighty years ago: "I long to show you my workshop, and to see you sitting on the opposite side of my table. We shall be as close | and now added £ 20 more. Lady Hesketh added £20, and also obtained £ 10 from another relative, while from "an anonymous friend, who insists on not being known or guessed at, and never shall by me, I have an annuity of £ 50." This friend, it needs not be said, was Theodora, whose love and tenderness for the poet followed him into his retreat, and had several times been manifested by the most graceful and feminine acts of kindness. Mr. Bruce says: In this the dullest and most unhealthy of rural retreats, "in the summer adorned only with blue willows, and in the winter covered with a flood," he spent the longer portion of his existence. The direst of human calamities had fallen upon him, but when the "madness-cloud" was partially withdrawn, he passed a tranquil, almost a happy life, watched over by the tender care of Mary Unwin, and rejoicing in the cousinly affection of Lady Hesketh, and the lively conversation of the "too brilliant" Lady Austen. Surrounded by his hares, and dogs, and "Cowper certainly submitted with very exembirds, now working in his greenhouse or garden,plary patience to the restraints imposed upon him now winding silk for the ladies, or playing with by his anonymous friend. That he was ignorant them at battledore and shuttlecock; now making from whose hand he received such generous aid rabbit-hutches, or composing hymns for John New- cannot be supposed, notwithstanding his occasionton; now writing letters of thanks for a supply of ally writing of her as if she were a person of the fish (for Cowper, as Southey remarks, was one of male sex. Some little time after this letter was the most ichthyophagous of men), and now reading written he came very close upon her track. He aloud sermons or psalms; the quiet routine of the received a letter announcing the despatch of a poet's life would have been monotonous and intol-writing-desk and a pocket-book as a present for erable had it not been relieved by the delights of himself, with a work-box (O amiable Theodora !) authorship and the pleasure of poetic pains. This for Mrs. Unwin. The letter contained an allusion life, so full of sadness, is also full of interest. I like to a poem of Cowper's entitled A Drop of Ink. to learn all the petty details which made up the sum The only copy,' he slily remarked, when relating of Cowper's existence; how he dressed (and he had the circumstance to Lady Hesketh, I ever gave a fancy for looking smart and fashionable), where of that piece I gave yourself. It is possible, therehe walked, when walking was practicable (for in fore, that between you and Anonymous there may winter the roads were almost impassable, and Mr. be some communication.'' Bruce tells us that the Rev. John Newton had sometimes to go to church in pattens), what books he read, and how many lines of Homer he translated before breakfast. I like also to hear him tell in cheerful moments of his resolution to work his way into notice, and how, despite his nervous diffidence, having an infinite share of ambition, he had always wished to gain distinction. "Set me down, therefore," he writes, "for an industrious rhymer, for in this only way is it possible for me, so far as I can see, either to honor God, or to serve men, or even to serve myself." Literary biography, indeed, is always fascinating; but for the most part we have it at second-hand. Cowper opens all his heart in his letters, and writes there his autobiography. Of Theodora, who, despite her love disappointment, lived to a great age, Mr. Bruce tells us little. She has been dead forty years, and there must be people living who remember her in her old age. Doubtless there are also additional facts to be obtained relative to her earlier life. We may hope, therefore, that Mr. Bruce will be able to add something to our knowledge in his forthcoming biography, since what we know at present is enough to tantalize us, but not enough to satisfy. We are told that she was beautiful, but there is no portrait of her extant. We are told also that she was accomplished; and that she was a woman of good sense and right feeling we learn from other sources than the poet's praise of her eyes, in which he reads "all gentleness and truth," and where "Soft complacence sits In a letter to the Rev. William Unwin, here printed for the first time, and written one year after the publication of "The Task," he describes his pecu- Illumined with the radiant beams of sense." niary resources, which were derived almost entirely from the purses of his relatives. Sensitive and proud The two never met after their youthful separaas the poet was in some respects, he appears at all tion, and it is remarkable how carefully Cowper times to have received assistance without the least avoids the mention of her name and the expression scruple or shame. His original patrimony, which of the most ordinary terms of cousinly affection. was not large, he had considerably diminished, and Lady Hesketh is his "dearest coz," his "most prewhen living alone, after leaving Dr. Cotton's estab-cious cousin," but Theodora, whose loving wishes for lishment, and before his residence with the Unwins, his happiness were evinced in the most practical and he contrived, he tells us, in three months, "by the thoughtful way, receives no kindly word either in help of good management, and a clear notion of verse or prose. True, indeed, whenever presents economical matters, to spend the income of a twelve-arrive he expresses his gratitude to " Anonymous," month." His friends came to his aid, and made "certain annual payments on his account into the hands of the ever kind and useful Hill." What these payments were we are not told, but the letter just alluded to states that, in 1786, his income received an addition of a clear £100 per annum. Lord Cowper, it seems, had previously given £20, packed as two wax figures in an old-fashioned picture-frame. I am writing in it now. It is the place in which I fabricate all my verse in summer time. The grass under my windows is all bespangled with dew-drops, and the birds are singing in the apple-trees among the blossoms. Never poet had a more commodious oratory in which to invoke his muse." "It is a pleasure," says Mr. Bruce, "to be able to state that this choice relic is now in the possession of a gentleman (Mr. Morris, of Olney) who is fully alive to its interest and value." * With regard to the breaking off of the engagement Mr. Bruce says: "Mr. Ashley Cowper hesitated long, but ultimately deter mined in the negative, on the ground of their near relationship; he set his face against the marriage of cousins. This was probably not the only reason, if indeed it were not merely an excuse. The occa sional state of Cowper's mind may well have alarmed his uncle (himself too frequently a prey to the hereditary melancholy of the family), whilst the waywardness of Theodora, a waywardness which ultimately brought her into a condition of crazy oddity very nearly allied to madness, could have given her father's anxiety no relief." Where did Mr. Bruce gain his intelligence with regard to this "waywardness" and this crazy oddity"? These statements are new to us. All that we have hitherto known of Theodora speaks On another well both for the state of her intellect and her heart page Mr. Bruce writes: "Uncle and nephew did not quarrel, but the former insisted that Theodora should break off all communica tion with her lover. She obeyed with a firmness and honesty of submission which speaks volumes in her favor, for it is clear that her conduct was very far from being the result either of heartlessness or of inconstancy." No sign of "waywardness" here. 1 and hopes that God may bless him; but he never sends a word to Theodora in her own person, and rarely acknowledges that he remembers her. He accepts her money with complacency, but no sign of tenderness escapes him at the recollection of his early love. It is possible he was afraid of the subject, and yet it is certain that the separation of the cousins, though it doubtless increased Cowper's constitutional melancholy, did not cause the insanity with which he was soon afterwards attacked. It was the despair of God's love, not the loss of a woman's, which upset Cowper's mind in the first place, and which, with intervals of ease, made him more or less a maniac for the remainder of his life. Mr. Bruce has no faith whatever in the once-prevalent notion that Cowper was driven mad by overmuch religion. "His madness," he says, "was rather occasioned by want of religion than by excess of it; and the reception of definite views of Christianity, although it did not work his cure, exercised on his first recovery a very beneficial effect upon his health, both of body and mind." Cowper would no doubt have lost his reason if the truths of Christianity had never been presented to him, and it is clear that all the happiness he enjoyed in lucid intervals was due to his reception of those truths. friends seem to have regarded it as objectionable. It is certain Mrs. Unwin's own son did not; Lady Hesketh, who writes of them to her sister, never even hints a doubt, and has nothing to say but what is generous and friendly; and John Newton, stern and uncompromising when truth required him so to be, regarded Mary and William as his best friends. Indeed, Cowper's dreadful malady and Mrs. Unwin's character and age were sufficient to silence the faintest breath of scandal. Mrs. Unwin acted throughout as Cowper's affectionate companion and most untiring nurse. Had she entered upon another relation, she would have assuredly lowered her own dignity and made the poet a laughingstock. SCIENCE AND ARTS. PROFESSOR TYNDALL has communicated to the minous ones. Royal Society further researches on invisible radiation, or calorescence, as he now terms it; in other words, the conversion of non-luminous rays into luBesides enlarging the limits of his subject, he now performs his experiments without which he used last winter for cutting off the light the risk that formerly attended them. The medium I cannot believe, however, as Mr. Bruce appears rays, and allowing only the heat rays to pass, was to believe, that the companionship of John Newtona solution of iodine in bisulphide of carbon. But was altogether desirable for a man of Cowper's ner-dents have occurred with it both in this country and this is a very inflammable fluid, and numerous accivous, sensitive constitution. John Newton was an honest, earnest, affectionate man, and a good Chris- on the Continent. The Professor now uses bichloride tian. He was of a robust, independent nature, of carbon, which is not dangerous, and is almost as strong-minded, dogmatic, fearless. What he be-effectual in other particulars as the bisulphide. lieved was the truth and the only form of truth; what he did was what all Christian men should do. with observations of the sun." FURTHER progress is making at Kew Observatory The process is, on He was a man with great warmth of heart, but without fine discrimination. He knew but one line every clear day, to get what are called solar autoof right thinking, one mode of right living; and By this means, a systematic record is kept up of graphs; that is, photographs of the great luminary. held that the slightest deviation from that line, or all the visible changes that take place on the surthat mode, was to be utterly abhorred. Such a face of the sun, the forms and motion of spots, variaman could fight with any foes, spiritual or mortal; tions of brightness, and so forth; and from thi his zeal, as he himself confesses, sometimes exceeded record, scientific observers have already drawn conthe bounds of prudence. Hard work was a luxury clusions as to the physical constitution of the sun. to him, and he found sufficient recreation in devo- The question is one of the most interesting in costional exercises. An affectionate disposition, and amical science, and the more the observations are strong will, gave him a powerful influence over the poet. Cowper felt, perhaps, that it was well for his mental sanity to be under the control of a mind more firmly braced than his own. So by the directions of his ghostly father he performed, as it were, the duties of a curate in the parish of Olney, visiting the sick, reading the Bible, and engaging in prayer. Mr. Greatheed observes, evidently without a notion that Cowper was unwise in attempting such a labor, and that the friends were unwise who urged him to it, that when he expected to take the lead in social worship, his mind was always greatly agitated for some hours preceding; and Lady Hesketh remarks that his health suffered from the want of proper exercise, owing to his anxiety to adhere to the rules laid down by Mr. Newton. Mr. Bruce agrees with Southey, that there is no ground for the report that Cowper made Mrs. Unwin an offer of marriage, and that it was broken off owing to a recurrence of his malady. At the same time he thinks it unfortunate they did not marry; | and speaks of the many difficulties which resulted from the false position in which they lived. Mr. Bruce is, I think, the first of the poet's biographers, or of the poet's admirers, who has discovered anything false in that position. None of his personal multiplied, the more probability is there that the right conclusion will be arrived at. Observers in any part of the country may render good service in this investigation if they will take solar observations as often as possible on a uniform plan, and communicate them to the Astronomical Society. The THE Council of the Horticultural Society are about to start a scheme for the improved education of gardeners. The garden at Chiswick, under the superintendence of a competent man, is to be the school, and there the young men will take their lessons in theoretical and practical gardening, and acquire a knowledge of botany and other subjects, according to their ability and inclination. scheme is a promising one; but the learners must not expect that any number of well-paid situations will afterwards be open to them, for as the late Sir Joseph Paxton said: "There are not more than one hundred places in England where more than £100 per annum is given to first-class gardeners. A London gardener's ordinary wages rule from 20s. to 25s. per week; and there is a very large class of these men in the neighborhood of London and large towns; whereas a carpenter has 33s., and a bricklayer 36s. a week.” Keeping this statement in |