h of the month found herself installed in her
brother's lodgings at Bath.

It will be necessary here to speak a little more at length of her
brother's life as she found it when she joined him, as thereafter her
own existence was practically merged in his, and, as she has said
modestly of herself and her service: "I did nothing for my brother but
what a well-trained puppy-dog would have done; that is to say, I did
what he commanded me. I was a mere tool, which he had the trouble of
sharpening." Posterity discredits this self-depreciation, while it
admires it, and Miss Herschel's services are now esteemed at their true
worth. Her brother then, when she came to Bath, had established himself
there as a teacher of music, as organist of the Octagon Chapel, and, as
we have said before, was a composer and director of more than ordinary
merit. This was all a side issue, however. It was but a means to an end.
His music was the goose that laid the golden egg, which, once in his
possession, he turned over to the mistress of his soul--Astronomy.

Every spare moment of the day, we are told, and many hours stolen from
the night, had long been devoted to the studies which were compelling
him to become himself an observer of the heavens. He had worked wonders
of mechanical invention, forced thereto by necessity; had become a
member of a philosophical society, and his name was beginning to be
circulated among the great, rumors of his work reaching and arresting
even royal attention.

At this point his sister arrived, the quiet domestic life she had been
living in Hanover being suddenly changed for one of "ceaseless and
inexhaustible activity" in her brother's service, being at once his
astronomical and musical assistant, and his housekeeper and guardian. Of
the latter, his erratic habits made him in great need. "For ten years
she persevered at Bath," says her biographer, "singing when she was told
to sing, copying when she was told to copy, 'lending a hand' in the
workshop, and taking her full share in all the stirring and exciting
changes by which the musician became the king's astronomer and a
celebrity; but she never, by a single word, betrays how these wonderful
events affected her, nor indulges in the slightest approach to an
original sentiment, comment, or reflection not strictly connected with
the present fact." In an ordinary case this would not be remarkable, but
in the present instance it acquires considerable significance fr