accomplishment of his wishes. He, however, speedily recovered, and proceeded to perform the measures of the distances between the centres of the two bodies at proper intervals during the continuance of the transit.

The calculations which were the necessary results of these observations were made by Rittenhouse, and published by the Philosophical Society of Philadelphia. When they reached Europe, they corroborated the calculations of the most famous astronomers, and upset the theory of the old school that the sun was but eighty millions of miles from the earth, placing the distance at ninety-six millions. The learned men of the Old World did not hesitate to award to Rittenhouse the highest meed of praise, and one accomplished judge declared that no learned society in Europe "could at the moment boast of a member possessing the various merits of Rittenhouse, who united, in his own person, tact as an observer, theoretic skill as a calculator, and practical talent as a constructer of instruments."

During the same year Rittenhouse was engaged in observing the transit of Mercury, and his calculations were again so perfect that the longitude of places on the American continent were for fifty years determined by them.

These elevated occupations did not entirely divert his attention from his workshop; he still dwelt on the subject of a perfect orrery with devotion, and occupied all his leisure moments in finishing one on a new plan. It was at length completed, and became the property of the institution at Princeton, in whose cabinet it may still be found. Rittenhouse refers to it in the following words: "I did not design a machine which should give to the ignorant in astronomy a first view of the solar system, but would rather astonish the skillful and curious examiner by a most accurate correspondence between the situations and motions of our little representatives of the heavenly bodies and the situations and motions of those bodies themselves. I would have my orrery really useful, by making it capable of informing us truly of the astronomic phenomena for any particular point of time, which I do not find that any orrery yet made can do." The mechanism by which this is accomplished is described by competent judges as truly wonderful. A duplicate of this machine was subsequently executed for the College of Philadelphia.

In 1770, Rittenhouse took up his residence in the city of Phil

adelphia, having been invited to make that capital his home. In the following year he was elected one of the secretaries of the American Philosophical Society. In 1775, a scheme was set on foot to establish a public observatory in Philadelphia, under the direction of Rittenhouse, but, owing to the political agitations of the time, it was abandoned. The contest for freedom was now at hand, and Rittenhouse enrolled himself on the popular side, although he did not immediately take any part in the public meetings and deliberations. The modest integrity and wisdom of his life, however, pointed him out as a fitting object of public trust, and in 1775, when Franklin was called to the Provincial Assembly of Pennsylvania, Rittenhouse was elected to fill his seat in the General Congress. When the old government was dissolved, he was chosen a member of the Convention called for the purpose of framing a Constitution, and also of the Committee of Public Safety. In 1776 he was unanimously elected to the responsible and laborious office of State Treasurer, and was annually re-elected, until he declined any longer to hold office. When the city fell into the hands of the British, the responsibilities and dangers of this appointment were of the most oppressive kind, but by activity and firmness Rittenhouse discharged them to the satisfaction of every one. One cause of very great anxiety to him was the rumor that his two orreries had been destroyed by the enemy. This proved to be unfounded. The British commanders respected the work of art, and took effectual means to preserve its safety.

After the close of hostilities against Great Britain, Mr. Rittenhouse was engaged in settling the boundaries of Pennsylvania and Virginia by astronomical observations of the longitudinal lines; also in establishing a division line between the States of New York and Pennsylvania; and the limits of a territory, the right of soil of which the State of Massachusetts had accepted in lieu of a contested claim both to the land and the jurisdiction of a large part of the State of New York. These arduous operations engaged Mr. Rittenhouse until 1787, and, with the duties of the State Treasury and Loan Office, of which he was a trustee, kept him fully employed. During a part of the time the emoluments of his offices were so small that he was unable to afford the necessary assistance of a clerk, and had to call in the aid of his wife. Mr. Rittenhouse surrendered his trusts in 1790.

Under the federal government he was appointed a commis

ed to escape. With child-like simplicity and frankness he related the whole story, his hesitation, and the cause of his return. The rector not only remitted his punishment, but became his friend, and placed him under another master, who treated him with extreme kindness.

He continued his studies until he was sufficiently advanced to become a candidate for holy orders. Unfortunately, at this critical epoch, his generous patron, the baron, died, and all hopes of becoming a clergyman were at an end. It became necessary that he should go out in the world and seek his own way in it. Fortunately, he was offered the situation of private tutor to a family in Switzerland. He at once closed with the parties, and for two years discharged the irksome duties incidental to the position he had taken. He then proceeded to Leipsic, where he gave lessons in Greek and philosophy, and for the first time became acquainted with the writings of Kant. This was an important event in his life, and threw him into raptures. "I have been living," he writes, "for the last four or five months in Leipsic the happiest life I can remember. I came here with my head full of grand projects, which all burst one after another, like so many soap-bubbles, without leaving me so much as the froth. At first this troubled me a little, and, half in despair, I took a step which I ought to have taken long before. Since I could not alter what was without me, I resolved to alter what was within. I threw myself into philosophy -the Kantian, videlicet-and here I found the true antidote for all my evils, and joy enough into the bargain. The influence which this philosophy, particularly the ethical part of it (which, however, is unintelligible without a previous study of the "Critique of Pure Reason"), has had upon my whole system of thought, the revolution which it has effected in my mind, is not to be described. To you, especially, I owe the declaration that I now believe with my whole heart in free-will, and that I see that under this supposition alone can duty, virtue, and morality have any existence. From the opposite proposition, of the necessity of all human actions, must flow the most injurious consequences to society, and it may, in fact, be in part the source of the corrupt morals of the higher classes which we hear so much of. Should any one adopting it remain virtuous, we must look for the cause of this purity elsewhere than in the innocuousness of the doctrine. With many it is their want of logical consequence in their actions.

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"I am, furthermore, well convinced that this life is not the land of enjoyment, but of labor and toil, and that every joy is granted to us but to strengthen us for further exertion; that the management of our own fate is by no means required of us, but only selfculture. I trouble myself, therefore, not at all concerning the things that are without; I endeavor not to appear, but to be. And to this, perhaps, I owe the deep tranquillity I enjoy. My external position, however, is well enough suited to such a frame of mind: I am no man's master, and no man's slave. As to prospects, I have none at all, for the constitution of the Church here does not suit me, nor, to say the truth, that of the people either. As long as I can maintain my present independence, I shall certainly do so.'

Fichte's enthusiasm for Kant induced him to pay a visit to the eminent philosopher at Königsberg. Instead of a letter of introduction, he presented Kant with a work written in eight days, called "A Critique of every possible Revelation." Kant immediately recognized the merits of the production, and became his friend. He was too poor to assist him in a material point of view -and Fichte sorely needed assistance-but he promised to obtain him a publisher for his "Critique," and otherwise treated him' hospitably and kindly.

In due time the "Critique" made its appearance. There was no name on the title-page, and every one said it was the production of Kant. When it became known that Fichte was the author, he was at once placed in the highest ranks of philosophy. The celebrity he acquired was the means of procuring him the chair of philosophy at Jena (1793), the leading university of Germany.

Fichte now fondly believed that his wanderings and his privations were at an end, and that henceforth he could devote himself to philosophy without interruption from the external world. He was mistaken.

Even at Jena he found himself soon opposing and opposed. His endeavors to instill a higher moral feeling into the students, his anxiety for their better culture, were misunderstood. A cry of Atheism was raised against the professor -an unjust cry, but not without its effects. The government required some kind of explanation from the philosopher. He refused to give it, tendered his resignation, and recommenced his wanderings. He found an asylum in Prussia, where he occupied the chair at Erlangen, and afterward at Berlin. From his career

in the latter place the following incident is related by one of his biographers (Mr. Lewes):

"It is 1813. The students are assembled in crowds to hear their favorite professor, who is to lecture that day upon dutyon that duty whose ideal grandeur his impassioned eloquence has revealed to them. Fichte arrives, calm and modest. He lectures. with his usual dignified calmness, rising into fiery bursts of eloquence, but governed by the same marvelous rigor of logic as before. He leads them from the topic to the present state of affairs. On them he grows still more animated, the rolling of drums without frequently drowning his voice, and giving him fresh spirit. He points to the bleeding wounds of his country; he warms with hatred against oppressors; and enforces it as the duty of every one to lend his single arm to save his country.

"This course of lectures,' he exclaims, 'will be suspended till the end of the campaign. We will resume them in a free country, or die in the attempt to recover her freedom.' Loud shouts respondent ring through the hall; clapping of hands and stamping of feet make answer to the rolling drums without; every German heart there present is moved as at the sound of a trumpet. Fichte descends, passes through the crowd, and places himself in the ranks of a corps of volunteers then departing for the army. It is the commencement of the memorable campaign of 1813."

Throughout this struggle for liberty Fichte took an active part, and was nobly assisted by his wife. The hospitals of the city were filled with the sick and the wounded; they became at length unequal to the demands made upon them, and the authorities, through the public journals, called on the inhabitants to come to their assistance with money, and with women to take charge of the sick. Fichte's wife was one of the earliest to volunteer in the good cause. She devoted her days to the distribution of clothes, food, and medicine, and to pious cares around the beds of the unknown sick and dying; and after she returned late on a winter's evening to her home, often again went out to collect contributions from her friends and acquaintances.

For five months she devoted herself in this noble way to the service of the helpless and wretched. In January, 1814, from want of sleep or other causes, alarming symptoms began to manifest themselves, and soon after she was attacked with a dangerous nervous fever. It soon attained such a height as to leave