Page:Passages from the Life of a Philosopher.djvu/396

turned this art of punching a hole in glass occurred in Italy, at Bologna.

I spent some weeks very agreeably in that celebrated university, which is still proud of having had the discoverer of the circulation of the blood amongst its students. One morning an Italian friend accompanied me round the town, to point out the more remarkable shops and manufactories. Passing through a small street, he remarked that there was a very well-informed man who kept a little shop for the sale of needles and tape and a few other such articles, but who also made barometers and thermometers, and had a very respectable knowledge of such subjects. I proposed that we should look in upon him as we were passing through the street. On entering his small shop, I was introduced to its tenant, who conversed very modestly and very sensibly upon various mathematical instruments.

I had invited several of my friends and professors to spend the evening with me at my hotel, for the purpose of examining various instruments I had brought with me. I knew that the sight of them would be quite a treat to the occupier of this little shop, so I mentioned the idea to my friend, and inquired whether my expected guests in the evening would think I had taken a liberty with them in inviting the humble constructor of instruments at the same time.

My friend and conductor immediately replied that he was well known to most of the professors, and much respected by them, and that they would think it very kind of me to give him that opportunity of seeing the instruments I possessed. I therefore took the opportunity of asking him to join the very agreeable party which assembled in my apartments in the evening.

We now made a tour of the city, and reached the factory