314 MAN OF SCIENCE. 



have already told you, I would have written you six 

 months ago. I have a little daughter who helps me at 

 times in putting wrong my papers, books, and fossils. 

 She has got language enough to call a dog boivwow, and 

 a cat mew ; and when she sees a fossil she points to it, 

 and calls it " papa's fish." She had a philosophical 

 desire long ago to ascertain whether the flame of a candle 

 might not taste and feel as pleasantly as it looked ; but 

 she is no longer curious on this head. I sometimes sing 

 to her, and she seems much pleased with my music, a 

 thing no one ever was before. I am afraid, however, 

 that her mother will spoil her just and simple taste in 

 this matter ; but knoAV not how to prevent it. And 

 now, my dear Alie, I have come to the close of my 

 letter. It is not long, you see, but there is a good deal 

 of nonsense in it, for all that. I would like very much 

 to be a little boy once more, but, alas, I am a big man, 

 and cannot play myself so much or so often as I could 

 wish. Some of my reddish-brown hair is actually get- 

 ting grey. I am, my dear boy, 



' Your affectionate friend, 



4 HUGH MILLER.' 



There is perhaps no work of Miller's by which the 

 general reader can better judge him than his First Im- 

 pressions of England and its People. The subject has 

 the look of being hackneyed beyond all chance of 

 effective writing ; yet the book, I venture to say, is one 

 of the most fresh and charming in the language. The 

 materials were gathered in eight weeks of autumnal 

 wandering through England in 1845, and the composi- 

 tion occupied the leisure hours of a hard-worked editor 

 for six months. Yet how admirable is the style ! With 

 what subtle felicity does it combine the dignity of ela- 



