elsewhere. But with whatever employer, his heart
was in the highlands. It was in the books he
bound, in the hours after work, that he found
the beginning of his philosophy. There were
two that especially helped him: the Encyclopædia
Britannica, from which he gained his
first notions of electricity, and Mrs. Marcet's
Conversations on Chemistry, which gave him
his foundation in that science. Introduced to
Sir Humphry Davy's last lectures at the Royal
Institution, he took notes of them, wrote them
fairly out, and sent them to Davy, entreating
him to enable him to quit trade, which he
detested, and to pursue science, which he loved.

Davy (be it never forgotten) wrote to Faraday
at once, and afterwards, when an opportunity
occurred, made him his assistant. Showing to
an influential friend this application from "a
youth of twenty-two years of age," he said,
"Pepys, what am I to do? Here is a letter
from a young man named Faraday. He has
been attending my lectures, and wants me to
give him employment at the Royal Institution.
What can I do?"

"Do?" replied Pepys; "put him to wash
bottles; if he is good for anything, he will do
it directly; if he refuses, he is good for
nothing."

"No, no," replied Davy, "we must try him
with something better than that." The result
was, that Davy engaged him to assist in the
laboratory at weekly wages.

Subsequently, Faraday accompanied Sir
Humphry to Rome, in the capacity of
philosophical assistant. On returning, he was re-
engaged by the managers of the Royal
Institution on the 15th of May, 1815. Here he
made rapid progress in chemistry, and after a
time was entrusted by Davy with easy analyses.
In those days the Royal Institution published
The Quarterly Journal of Science. In that
journal, in 1816, Faraday's first contribution to
science appeared. It was an analysis of some
caustic lime from Tuscany, which had been sent
to Davy by the Duchess of Montrose. In 1818,
he experimented upon "sounding flames."
Professor Auguste de la Rive, father of our
present excellent De la Rive, had investigated
those sounding flames, and had applied to them
an explanation which completely accounted for
a class of sounds discovered by De la Rive
himself. By a few simple and conclusive
experiments, Faraday proved that the explanation
was insufficient. It is an epoch in a young
man's life—Dr. Tyndall shrewdly observes—
when he finds himself correcting a person of
eminence; and in Faraday's case, where its
effect was to develop a modest self-trust, such
an event could not fail to act profitably.

In 1820, Faraday published a chemical paper
"On two new compounds of chlorine and
carbon, and on a new compound of iodine,
carbon, and hydrogen," which was read before
the Royal Society on the 21st of December,
1820. This was the first of his productions
that was honoured with a place in the
Philosophical Transactions. On the 12th of June,
1821, he married, and obtained leave to bring
his young wife into his rooms at the Royal
Institution, Mrs. Faraday then being twenty-one
and he nearly thirty years of age. There for
forty-six years they lived together, occupying
the suite of apartments which had been
previously in the successive occupancy of Young,
Davy, and Brande. Regarding this marriage,
Dr. Tyndall quotes an entry written in Faraday's
own hand in his book of diplomas. "25th
January, 1847.—Amongst these records and
events, I here insert the date of one which, as
a source of honour and happiness, far exceeds
all the rest. We were married on June 12,
1821." This is one proof, amongst many others,
of an honourable feature of Faraday's character.
In his relations to his wife, he added
chivalry to affection.

Further illustrations of character are given
in a concluding heartfelt and affectionate
chapter, from which we will cite only two leading
points—his independent spirit, and his
preference of knowledge to worldly gain. The
first was especially manifested when Sir Robert
Peel, in 1835, wished to offer Faraday a pension.
That great statesman, however, quitted office
before he was able to realise his intention. The
minister who founded those pensions intended
them to be marks of honour, which even proud
men might accept without compromise of
independence. Nevertheless, when the intimation
first reached Faraday in an unofficial way, he
wrote a letter announcing his determination to
decline the pension, and stating that he was
quite competent to earn his livelihood himself.
That letter still exists, but it was never sent;
Faraday's repugnance having been overruled by
his friends.

When Lord Melbourne came into office, he
desired to see Faraday. Probably, in utter
ignorance of the man—for, unhappily for both
parties, ministers of state in England are only
too often ignorant of great Englishmen—his
lordship said something that must have deeply
displeased his visitor. The term "humbug,"
it appears, was incautiously employed, and
other expressions were used of a similar kind.
Faraday quitted the minister with his own
resolves, and that evening he left his card with a
short and decisive note at Lord Melbourne's
residence, stating that he had manifestly
mistaken his lordship's intention of honouring
science in his person, and declining to have
anything whatever to do with the proposed
pension.

The good-humoured nobleman at first
considered the matter a capital joke; but he was
afterwards led to look at it more seriously. An
excellent lady, who was a friend both to Faraday
and the minister, tried to arrange matters
between them; but she found Faraday very
difficult to move from the position he had
assumed. After many fruitless efforts, she at
length begged of him to state what he would
require of Lord Melbourne to induce him to
change his mind. He replied, "I should require
from his lordship what I have no right or reason