leant. He read my letter, did not think my plan would answer. Was I
acquainted with mechanism, what we call the laws of motion? I saw all
was up with my poor scheme, so after trying a little to explain, in the
course of which I certainly failed in giving him a clear idea of what I
would be at, I thanked him for his attention, and went off as
dissatisfied as ever. The sense of one part of the conversation I well
recollect. He said "that were the perpetual motion possible, it would
have occurred spontaneously in nature, and would have overpowered all
other forces," or words to that effect. I did not see the force of this,
but did not feel competent enough to discuss the question.

However, all this exorcised my devil, and he has rarely come to trouble
me since. Some future day, perhaps, I may be able to call Faraday's
attention more decidedly. Pergo modo! "wie das Gestirn, ohne Hast, ohne
Rast" (Das Gestirn in a midshipman's berth!).

[In other respects also his student's career was a brilliant one. In
1843 he won the first chemical prize, the certificate stating that his
"extraordinary diligence and success in the pursuit of this branch of
science do him infinite honour." At the same time, he also won the first
prize in the class of anatomy and physiology. On the back of Wharton
Jones' certificate is scribbled in pencil: "Well, 'tis no matter. Honour
pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on? How
then?"

Finally, in 1845 he went up for his M.B. at London University and won a
gold medal for anatomy and physiology, being second in honours in that
section.

Whatever then he might think of his own work, judged by his own