Amid the wild beautiful scenery of Cornwall, where the waters of the Atlantic wash our English shores, was born in the winter of 1778 the greatest chemist England has ever seen. We read in our childish geography books that for being the birthplace of Humphrey Davy the town of Penzance has for long been famous, for the coming into the world of that man whose name is perhaps best known for the invention of the Miners' Safety Lamp, that has lit the darkness of our coal mines and saved hundreds of human lives. Humphrey was the son of a wood-carver, a man not high up in the world, but we find him free enough from the straits of poverty that have often been the cradle of genius, though, indeed, a cradle out of which genius has had a way of growing to sturdy stalwart manhood. The child from the outset entered on life with eagerness and enthusiasm, seeming to take a firm, earnest grip, as it were, even from babyhood. It was this same vigour of mind that spurred him on all through--in boyhood and manhood alike--that made him face difficulty with such a brave, dauntless spirit, and overcome obstacles with never a thought of letting them overcome him. He was quick, energetic, and alert, even as a child. When hardly more than five years old his mother often noticed him with baby fingers rapidly turning the pages of some book as if he were counting their number or glancing at the pictures. To her no small astonishment on questioning him, she found the lisping baby lips could repeat the story. It was the same through life. Long years after, when he was a great chemist, making wonderful experiments in his laboratory, he had no patience with slowness. He would keep several experiments going at the same time, attending first to one, then to another. If the exact instrument he wanted were not at hand, he would recklessly break or alter another to suit his purpose. His impetuous spirit could never brook delay. With him quickness meant power, and while quick he was also sure. As a child he specially loved the _Pilgrim's Progress_. The charm of its word-pictures, its characters fired his quick imagination. And history too, especially the history of his own country. These two, it may be, inspired him very early to a love of romance and story, and among the boys at school in Penzance he was not slow to gain the reputation of story-teller. Some were tales of fun, others tales of thrilling wonder and terror, but all flowed easily from the boy's lips and held his listeners enthralled.