pleasures by aged philosophy propounding mechanical experiments, and smoky steam-engines. The King carried “Hudibras” in his breast, and might perchance have a copy of the “Century” in some remote cabinet. Need we be surprised that his Lordship’s confidence in succour from such a source was every way misplaced? His treaties with the business world, it is to be feared, ran counter to all accepted forms, the talented philosopher being no plodding trader; so that act as he might for the best, it nevertheless appears to have been his uniform misfortune neither to acquire friends nor conciliate enemies, a posture of affairs not uncommon to fallen greatness. It is most unfortunate that he did not survive to complete his intended publication of a larger work than the “Century,” presenting his hundred inventions with illustrative engraved plates. But in common candour let it never be overlooked, that we have before us a promise published in 1663, long preceding the devastating plague, which almost depopulated the metropolis in 1665, and the terrible conflagration of 1666, which laid waste the city of London; and that it was in the midst of such accumulated public calamities his health appears to have suddenly given way, aged, harassed, disappointed, and dismayed, when he was prematurely called to his long rest. Neglected by contemporaries, modern writers have rested satisfied with a detail of some three or four years of his political career in Ireland, and a notice that he possibly possessed some mechanical ability, as giving a sufficiently comprehensive view of his character through a life extending over sixty-six years. This lax course, on the part of his biographers, has favoured the opinion expressed on the Continent, that the invention of the steam-engine is not of English, but of French origin! And this statement has been long colourably supported by means of a forged letter, the subject of which has been graphically represented by the painter, and copied by the lithographer; all attesting the prevailing zealous ardour of France to honour native genius. Thus, as though it were not a sufficient infliction to be ruined, dishonoured, oppressed, and neglected while living, it would almost seem as if events conspired to lessen, if possible, the lustre of his memory by the dark shades of apocryphal history.[R]