had made at the side of my telescope. These greatly pleased him and he earnestly urged me to publish them, accompanied with a descriptive account of the conclusions I had arrived at. I then determined to proceed with the preparations which I had already made for my long contemplated work.

Among the many things that I showed Sir John while at Hammerfield, was a piece of white calico on which I had got printed one million spots.[note: At a recent meeting of the Metropolitan Railway Company I exhibited one million of letters, in order to show the number of passengers (thirty-seven millions) that had been conveyed during the previous twelve months. This number was so vast that my method only helped the meeting to understand what had been done in the way of conveyance. Mr. Macdonald of the Times, supplied me with one million type impressions, contained in sixty average columns of the Times newspaper. ]

This was for the purpose of exhibiting one million in visible form. In astronomical subjects a million is a sort of unit, and it occurred to me to show what a million really is. Sir John was delighted and astonished at the sight. He went carefully over the outstretched piece with his rule, measured its length and breath, and verified its correctness.

I also exhibited to him a diagram, which I had distributed amongst the geologists at the meeting of the British Association at Ipswich in 1851, showing a portion of the earth's curve, to the scale of one-tenth of an inch to a mile. I set out the height of Mont Blanc, Etna, and also the depth of the deepest mine, as showing the almost incredible minimum of knowledge we possess about even the merest surface of the globe. This diagram was hailed by many as of much value, as conveying a correct idea of the relative magnitude of geological phenomena in comparison with that of the earth itself:

On this subject Sir Thomas Mitchell, Surveyor-General of Australia, wrote to me at the time : "I will not obtrude upon you my crude notions of my own, but merely say that you could not have sent the 'Geological Standard Scale' to one who better deserved it, if the claim in such favour is, as I suppose, to be estimated by the amount of the time of one whole life, applied to the survey of great mountain ranges, and coasts, rivers, etc. By this long practice of mine, you may know how appreciable this satisfactory standard scale is to your humble servant.

In the winter of 1865 I visited Italy. While at Rome, in April, I had the pleasure of meeting Otto W. von Struve, the celebrated Russian astronomer. He invited me to accompany him on a visit to Father Secchi at his fine observatory of the Collegio Romano . I accepted the invitation with pleasure. We duly reached the Observatory when Struve introduced me to the Father. Secchi gave me a most cordial and unlooked- for welcome. "This," he said, "is a most extraordinary interview; as I am at this moment making a representation of your willow-leaf-shaped constituents of the Solar surface!" He then pointed to a large black board, which he had daubed over with glue and was sprinkling over ( when we came in) with rice grains "That," said he, "is what I feel to be a most excellent representation of your discovery as I see it, verified by the aid of my telescope." It appeared to Father Secchi so singular a circumstance that I should come upon him in this sudden manner, while he was for the first time engaged in representing what I had (on the spur of the moment when first seeing them) described as willow-leaf-shaped objects. I thought that his representation of them, by scattering rice grains over his glue-covered black board, was apt and admirable; and so did Otto Struve. This chance meeting with these two admirable astronomers was one of the little bits of romance in my life.

I returned to England shortly after. Among our visitors at Hammerfield was Lord Lyndhurst. He was in his ninetieth year when he paid a visit to Tunbridge Wells. Charles Greville, Secretary to the Privy Council, wrote to me, saying that his Lordship complained much of the want of society, and asked me to call upon him. I did so, and found him cheerful and happy.

I afterwards sent him a present of some of my drawings. He answered: "A thousand thanks for the charming etchings. I am especially interested in Robinson Crusoe. He looks very comfortable, but I can't see his