The house in King Street had been taken with the view of building a
furnace on the lower floor, which was on a level with the garden.

Here the musician, in the full tide of professional duties, would,
between the lessons he was giving to the ladies of Bath, run in to see
how the workmen were progressing. Here Sir William Watson, Colonel
Walsh, and other philosophical friends would meet, and Sir William
Watson was only disappointed that the noble-hearted musician and
astronomer would not hear of any pecuniary assistance.

At last the day came when all was in readiness. The metal was in the
furnace, and the mould prepared, when a leakage caused the red-hot metal
to pour out on the floor, tearing up the stones, and scattering them in
every direction, William and Alexander Herschel and the workmen having
to rush away for their lives.

William Herschel fell exhausted on a heap of brickbats, and for the time
the dearest scheme of his heart, in the construction of the large
telescope, had to be abandoned.

"Success next time, and greater care to secure it," was all he said; and
he hastened to have the rubbish cleared away, recompense the workmen for
their lost labour, and that very night "sweep the heavens" with his old
instrument, and enter into the most animated conversation on the nebulae
with his chief and constant friend, Sir William Watson.

Everyone must have noticed how quickly events, whether sorrowful or
joyful, are forgotten.

The wonder-wave which rolls over a city or town, at the report of any
great mercantile failure, or the discovery of dishonest dealing in a man
who has held a responsible position, soon ebbs!

This is even more true of private griefs affecting families and
individuals. Griefs which leave a lifelong scar on the few, or on _one_
sufferer, are speedily forgotten by the outside world.

This ebb and flow, a poet has well said, is the law to which we must all
bow. None can escape from it.

Pity, however sincere, is soon exhausted, and fresh cares of bereavement
and loss, or sorrow, start up to excite a passing sympathy, while others
are crowded out and forgotten.

The duel between Sir Maxwell Danby and Leslie Travers was a nine days'
wonder. It was the favourite topic in the Pump Room for that time, but
scarcely longer. At first it was reported that Leslie Travers was dead;
then, indeed, there were conjectures about Sir Maxwell's escape, and
wonderment as to whether he would be pursued