and established himself at Burnham. Inspecting my teleseope, and well satisfied with it, he gave me full instructions, being anxious to take advantage of all operations subsidiary to his own. Inviting me to Burnham, he tested my quickness of observation by means of a clever instrument for the purpose, as it is found that this varies much in individuals, and for the sake of accuracy in calculation, it is necessary to know what is termed the "personal equation" of the observer. I obtained a good chronometer from Mr. Bower, a Scotch watchmaker in Timaru, and enlisted him and a young fellow as my assistants. It was again in December—midsummer here—and the night previous to the Transit, which was due at 7.30 a.m., was brilliant, a blue-black sky, sparkling with stars. We went to bed early to be sure of good eyesight and readiness for the work, but, alas, for the plans of men and mice, in the morning a sea-fog, thick as cotton wool, and not the ghost of a Sun visible! Breakfast ready at 6.30 a.m. "Go and tell Mr. Bower to come," I said to young Tate, "he's in the garden." "He says he couldna even eat porridge, it's too sad," was the reply. By mid-day the sun was glorious, but the chance was gone. However, at Burnham, Major Tupman was quite successful. He tells me that the computations needed to arrive at the result of observations made in various parts of the world will probably occupy the astronomers at Home some two years at least.
My ordinary parish work finds a pleasant change in a monthly visit to Christchurch, for the Standing Committee, which, with the Bishop, administers the Diocese. I often on these occasions take duty in the Cathedral.
