of the summer, some old man had related to him a tale of distress,—­of a calamity which could only be alleviated by the timely application of ten pounds; five of them he drew at once from his pocket, and to raise the other five he had pawned his beautiful solar microscope!  He related this act of beneficence simply and briefly, as if it were a matter of course, and such indeed it was to him.  I was ashamed of my impatience, and we strode along in silence.

It was past ten when we reached the hotel; some excellent tea and a liberal supply of hot muffins in the coffee-room, now quiet and solitary, were the more grateful after the wearisome delay and vast deviation.  Shelley often turned his head, and cast eager glances towards the door; and whenever the waiter replenished our teapot, or approached our box, he was interrogated whether any one had yet called.  At last the desired summons was brought:  Shelley drew forth some bank notes, hurried to the bar, and returned as hastily, bearing in triumph under his arm a mahogany box, followed by the officious waiter, with whose assistance he placed it upon the bench by his side.  He viewed it often with evident satisfaction, and sometimes patted it affectionately in the course of calm conversation.  The solar microscope was always a favourite plaything or instrument of scientific inquiry; whenever he entered a house his first care was to choose some window of a southern aspect, and, if permission could be obtained by prayer or by purchase, strightway to cut a hole through the shutter to receive it.  His regard for his solar microscope was as lasting as it was strong; for he retained it several years after this adventure, and long after he had parted with all the rest of his philosophical apparatus.

Such is the story of the microscope, and no rightly judging person who hears it will require the further accumulation of proofs of a benevolent heart; nor can I, perhaps, better close these sketches than with that impression of the pure and genial beauty of Shelley’s nature which this simple anecdote will bequeath.

[In parting with this very ingenious series of papers, we beg to concur in the well-expressed wish of the Editor of the New Monthly Magazine, “that their author could be tempted to give the world a complete history of one whose peculiar and subtle nature he so well comprehends.”]

* * * * *

THE NATURALIST.

* * * * *

NEW SPECIES OF BAT.—­(VESPERTILIO AUDUBONI.)

(By Richard Harlan, M.D.)