Passages from the Life of a Philosopher

is dry, it fills up all the little inequalities of the rough glass with a transparent substance, of nearly the same refracting power; consequently, on drawing aside the suspended card, the forms of external objects become tolerably well defined. The smooth surface of the rough plate-glass, not being perfectly flat, produces a slight distortion, which might, if it were worth while, be cured by cementing another disc of glass upon that side. In case the ground glass itself happens to be plate-glass, the image of external objects is perfect. {384} Oc­ca­sion­al­ly I met, in the course of my travels, with various things which, though not connected with my own pursuits, might yet be highly interesting to others. If the cost suited my purse, and the subject was easily carried, or the specimen of importance, I have in many instances purchased them. Such was the case with respect to that curious creature the proteus anguineus, a creature living only in the waters of dark caverns, which has eyes, but the eyelids cannot open. 〈THE CAVES OF ADELSBURG.〉 When I visited the caves of Adelsburg, in Styria, I inquired whether any of these singular creatures could be procured. I purchased all I could get, being six in number. I conveyed them in large bottles full of river water, which I changed every night. During the greater part of their journey the bottles were placed in large leathern bags lashed to the barouche seat of my calash. The first of these pets died at Vienna, and another at Prague. After three months, two only survived, and reached Berlin, where they also died—I fear from my servant having supplied them with water from a well instead of from a river. At night they were usually placed in a large wash-hand basin of water, covered over with a napkin. They were very excitable under the action of light. On several occasions when I have visited them at night with a candle, one or more have jumped out of their watery home. These rare animals were matters of great interest to many naturalists whom I visited in my rambles, and procured for me several very agreeable acquaintances. When their gloomy lives terminated I preserved them in spirits, and sent the specimens to the collections of our own universities, to India, and some of our colonies. When I was preparing materials for the ‘Economy of {385} Man­u­fac­tures,’ I had oc­casion to trav­el fre­quent­ly through our man­u­fac­tur­ing and min­ing dis­tricts. On these oc­ca­sions I found the travellers’ inn or the travellers’ room was usually the best adapted to my purpose, both in regard to economy and to information. As my inquiries had a wide range, I found ample assistance in carrying them on. Nobody doubted that I was one of the craft; but opinions were widely different as to the department in which I practised my vocation. In one of my tours I passed a very agreeable week at the Commercial Hotel at Sheffield. The society of the travellers’ room is very fluctuating. Many of its frequenters arrive at night, have supper, breakfast early the next morning, and are off soon after: others make rather a longer stay. One evening we sat up after supper much later than is usual, discussing a variety of commercial subjects. 〈GUESSES AT MY VOCATION.〉 When I came down rather late to breakfast, I found only one of my acquaintance of the previous evening remaining. He remarked that we had had a very agreeable party last night, in which I cordially concurred. He referred to the intelligent remarks of some of the party in our discussion, and then added, that when I left them they began to talk about me. I merely observed that I felt myself quite safe in their hands, but should be glad to profit by their remarks. It appeared, when I retired for the night, they debated about what trade I travelled for. “The tall gentleman in the corner,” said my informant, “maintained that you were in the hardware line; whilst the fat gentleman who sat next to you at supper was quite sure that you were in the spirit trade.” Another of the party declared that they were both mistaken: he said he had met you before, and that you were travelling for a great iron-master. “Well,” said I, “you, I presume, knew my vocation better than our friends.”—“Yes,” {386} said my informant, “I knew perfectly well that you were in the Nottingham lace trade.” The waiter now appeared with his bill, and announced that my friend’s trap was at the door. 〈THE PHI­LOS­O­PHER FOUND OUT.〉 I had passed nearly a week at the Commercial Inn without having broken the eleventh commandment; but the next day I was doomed to be found out. A groom, in the gay livery of the Fitzwilliams, having fruitlessly searched for me at all the great hotels, at last in despair thought of inquiring for me at the Commercial Hotel. The landlady was sure I was not staying in her house; but, in deference to the groom’s urgent request, went to make inquiries amongst her guests. I was the first person she questioned, and was, of course, obliged to admit the impeachment. The groom brought a very kind note from the late Lord Fitzwilliam, who had heard of my being in Sheffield, to invite me to spend a week at Wentworth. I gladly availed myself of this invitation, and passed it very agreeably. During the few first days the party in the house consisted of the family only. Then followed three days of open house, when their friends came from great distances, even as far as sixty or eighty miles, and that at a period when railroads were unknown. On the great day upwards of a hundred persons sat down to dinner, a large number of whom slept in the house. This was the first time the ancient custom of open house had been kept up at Wentworth since the death of the former Earl, the celebrated Whig Lord Lieutenant of Yorkshire.