At the time of a visit to London in 1856 this famous house was standing, and remained as it was when the owner left it, about a half century before. The exterior of the house would not attract special attention; but within, the whole world could not, perhaps, furnish a parallel. Anvils and forges, files and hammers, grindstones and tempering-troughs, furnaces and huge bellows, had converted the panelled and wall-frescoed drawing-room into the shop of a blacksmith. In the spacious dining-room chemical apparatus occupied the place of furniture. Electrical machines, Leyden-jars, eudiometers, thermometric scales, philosophical instruments, were distributed through the chambers. The third story, save two bed-chambers,--one for the housekeeper, the other for the footman,--had been fitted up for an observatory. The lenses and achromatic glasses, tubes and specula, concave mirrors, and object-prisms, and the huge, rough old telescope, peering through the roof, were still there as their owner had left them. All appliances of housekeeping were absent, and Cavendish House was destitute of all comforts, for which the owner had no taste. In this house Cavendish lived for nearly half a century, totally isolated from the world and all human sympathies. He seldom or never visited relatives, and they were never guests at his house. He had several servants, all of whom were males, with one exception. He was shy of women, and did not like to have them come in his way. If he saw his female servant in any of the rooms, he would order her away instantly, or fly himself to other quarters. Rarely, during all the years of his solitary life, did a woman cross his threshold; and, when one did, he would run from her as if she brought the plague. His servants were all trained to silence, and in giving his orders the fewest words possible were used. His meals were served irregularly, whenever in the intervals of absorbing labors, he could snatch a fragment of time. He uniformly dined upon one kind of meat,--a joint of mutton; and he seemed to have no knowledge that there were other kinds in the market. Upon one occasion he had invited a few scientific friends to dinner at Cavendish House, and when his servant asked him what he should provide, "A leg of mutton!" said Cavendish. "It will hardly be enough," said the servant. "Well, then get two." "Anything else, sir?" "Yes, get four legs of mutton."