injury which science must sustain from such a practice, and endeavoured, both by precept and example, to discountenance it.

With regard to the introduction of a figurative and ornamental style into memoirs purely scientific, no one could entertain a more decided objection; and in his last days," he warns us against the practice.

"In detailing the results of experiments, and in giving them to the world, the chemical philosopher should adopt the simplest style and manner; he will avoid all ornaments, as something injurious to his subject, and should bear in mind the saying of the first king of Great Britain, respecting a sermon which was excellent in doctrine, but overcharged with poetical allusions and figurative language," that the tropes and metaphors of the speaker were like the brilliant wild flowers in a field of corn, very pretty, but which did very much hurt the corn."

CHAPTER IV.

Davy makes a tour with Mr. Purkis, through Wales.-Beautiful phenomenon observed from the summit of Arran Benllyn.-Letter to Mr. Gilbert.-Journal of the Institution.-Davy's papers on Eudiometry, and other subjects.-His first communication to the Royal Society, on a new galvanic pile. He is proposed as a Fellow, and elected into the Society.-His paper on astringent vegetable substances, and on their operation in tanning leather. His letter to Mr. Poole.-He is appointed Chemical Lecturer to the Board of Agriculture. He forms friendships with the Duke of Bedford, Mr. Coke, and many other celebrated agriculturists.-Attends the sheep-shearing at Holkham and Woburn.-Composes a Prologue to the "Honey-Moon."

AFTER the fatigues and anxieties of his first session, Davy sought relaxation and repose amidst the magnificent scenery of Wales. The following letter will serve more fully to exhibit the enthusiasm he experienced in contemplating Nature in her wild and simplest forms.

MY DEAR FRIEND,

TO SAMUEL PURKIS, ESQ.

Matlock, August 15, 1802.

HAD I been alone, and perfectly independent as to my plans, I should probably have written to you long ago. I should have begged you to hasten your departure, so that we might have rejoiced together in Wales, under the influence of that moon which is now full in all its glory; for Derbyshire, taken as a whole, has not pleased me. A few beautiful valleys, placed at the distance of many miles from each other, do not compensate for the almost uniform wildness and brown barrenness of the hills and plains; and in the watering places, there is little amongst the living beings to awaken deep moral feelings, or to call the nobler powers of the mind, which act in consequence of sympathy, into existence.

I have longed for the mountain scenery, and for the free inhabitants of North Wales; and even the majestic valleys of the Wye and the Derwent

have been to me but typical of something more perfect in beauty and grandeur.

Whenever it shall seem fitting to you, I shall be prepared for our long contemplated journey, and do not delay your departure;-before the 21st would be more agreeable to me than after that period; and then we shall be able to view the horns of the next moon, where they are most beautiful.

I have enquired much concerning Dove-dale, since I have been here, and, from the most accurate accounts, I am inclined to believe that it is inferior, in point of sublime scenery, to Chee Tor, near Bakewell, and in beauty, to the valley of the Great Tor, in which I am now writing. On the whole, I think your best plan will be to meet me at Matlock, which you must see, and then in our route to Buxton, we can visit the valley of the Wye, and the most noble Chee Tor.

Concerning the excursion of Dove-dale, I am undecided, and it shall depend upon you to determine with regard to it.

As one great object in our excursions is to view Nature and man in their most simple forms, and to gain a temporary life of new impressions, I submit to you whether it will not be best to steer clear of towns, cities, and civilized society, in which, for the most part, we can see what we have only seen before. If we visit Sir Joseph Banks, it certainly should be only en passant: and to see that most excellent personage, and to be obliged to quit him immediately, will be at least painful; for the respectful feelings he produces in the mind are always modified by affection.

I have no room to give you the quantity of information that I have gained concerning the places and people of Wales; this shall serve for our Derbyshire chat. I thank you much for your last kind letter, which gave me high pleasure. You possess the true spirit of composition, which embodies

facts in words.

I am, &c.

H. DAVY.

I am informed by Mr. Purkis, that in the latter end of this summer, he made a pedestrian tour with Davy, through North and South Wales, and he has transmitted to me the following account of this excursion." We visited every place possessing any remains of antiquity, any curious productions of nature or art, and every spot distinguished by romantic and picturesque scenery. Our friend's diversified talents, with his knowledge of Geology, and

Natural History in general, rendered him a most delightful companion in a tour of this description. Every mountain we beheld, and every river we crossed, afforded a fruitful theme for his scientific remarks. The form and position of the mountain, with the several strata of which it was composed, always procured for me information as to its character and classification; and every bridge we crossed invariably occasioned a temporary halt, with some appropriate observations on the productions of the river, and on the diversion of angling.

"In one of our morning excursions in North Wales, we ascended the summit of Arran Benllyn, a celebrated mountain, inferior only to Snowdon and Cader Idris; a few miles from the lake of Bala. Here we were fortunate in beholding a scene of extraordinary sublimity, seldom witnessed in this climate. From the top of this mountain we looked down, about mid-day, on a deep valley eight or ten miles in length, and as many in breadth, the whole of which, for a considerable height from the surface of the ground, was filled with beautiful clouds, while the atmosphere around the summit on which we stood was perfectly clear, and the sky above us of a deep blue colour. The clouds in the valley were in irregular, gentle undulations, dense, compact, and continuous, of that kind which is denominated by Meteorologists, cirro-cumulus, and by the vulgar, woolpack clouds, such as are often seen in the higher regions on a fine summer's day. The sun shone with great brilliancy, and illumined their various forms with silver, grey and blue tints of exquisite beauty. As there was scarcely a breath of air stirring below the mountain, this aggregation of clouds, probably occasioned by some electrical agency, remained fixed and stationary, as if identified with the valley. The higher parts of most of the surrounding hills were enveloped in mist, above which the tops of Snowdon and Cader Idris towered distinctly visible, and appeared like small islands rising out of the sea. This scene altogether was one of inexpressible magnificence and grandeur, filling the mind with awe and rapture. We seemed to feel ourselves like beings of a higher order in a celestial region, looking down on the lower world with conscious superiority.

“After sitting and ruminating on this sublime spectacle for two or three hours, we left the summit of the mountain with reluctance, and, slowly descending, rested at intervals, and often cast a longing, lingering look behind.

"On reaching our comfortable inn at Bala, while waiting for dinner, Davy walked about the room, and, as if by inspiration, broke out in a beautiful impassioned apostrophe on the striking scene we had so recently witnessed. It was in a kind of unmeasured blank verse, highly animated and descriptive, at once poetical and philosophical. At the conclusion of this eloquent effusion, I endeavoured to recollect and commit it to writing, but I could not succeed, and Davy was too modest to assist my memory.

"In a tour through North Wales, where the few small inns have seldom any spare rooms, different parties are often obliged to sit in the same apartment, and to eat at the same table. Hence we were occasionally introduced to characters of various descriptions, some of whom gratified us by their agreeable qualities, while others disgusted us by their ignorance and impertinence. On one occasion, after a heavy shower of rain in the middle of August, we were drying our clothes by the fire in the little Inn at Tan y Bulch, when the landlord requested us to admit a gentleman, who was very wet. A young man, of pleasing appearance and manner, was then introduced, and after some common-place observations, we sat down to dinner. The stranger was evidently a man of education and acquirements, and after the cloth had been removed, he began to discourse very fluently on scientific subjects. He talked of oxygen and hydrogen, of hornblende, and the Grawacké of Werner, and geologists, in the most familiar tone of selfcomplacency.

"Davy's youth, simplicity of manner, and cautious concealment of superior knowledge, not exciting constraint, our companion was naturally induced to deliver his opinions with the utmost freedom and confidence on all subjects. We commenced on poetry and painting; the sublime and beautiful; then proceeded to mineralogy, astronomy, &c. and occasionally digressed on topics of mirth and humour, so that the evening was passed with general satisfaction.

"When Davy had retired to rest, and I was left alone with our companion, I enquired how he liked my friend, and whether he considered him a proficient in science, and versed in chemistry and geology? He answered coolly that 'he appeared to be rather a clever young man, with some general scientific knowledge.' He then asked his name, and when I announced Davy, of the Royal Institution,' the stranger seemed thunderstruck, and exclaimed, Good God! was that really Davy? How have I exposed my ignorance and