nvils 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."

His dress was peculiar,--a snuff-colored coat reaching to his knees, a
long vest of the same color, buff breeches, and a three-cornered hat.
With him the fashion never changed; he had but one suit; not an extra
coat, hat, or even two handkerchiefs. When his wardrobe gave out, and he
was forced to see his tailor, he became very