They have been rehearsing the explosions on the plan I most strongly recommended, that is—­to fire each chamber by an independent battery and circuit and to discharge the three batteries simultaneously by signal or word of command which answers well and “no mistake.”

I shall write to Sir John Herschel to-day, and remain

My dear Sir,
Very truly yours,
W. CUBITT.

G.B.  Airy, Esq.

* * * * *

The following extracts are from letters to his wife written in Ireland when on his journey to consider the determination of the longitude of Valencia.

SKIBBEREEN,
1843, July 28.

By the bye, to shew the quiet of Ireland now, I saw in a newspaper at Cork this account.  At some place through which a repeal-association was to pass (I forget its name) the repealers of the place set up a triumphal arch.  The police pulled it down, and were pelted by the repealers, and one of the policemen was much bruised.  O’Connell has denounced this place as a disgrace to the cause of repeal, and has moved in the full meeting that the inhabitants of this place be struck off the repeal list, with no exception but that of the parish priest who was proved to be absent.  And O’Connell declares that he will not pass through this place.  Now for my journey.  It is a sort of half-mountain country all the way, with some bogs to refresh my eyes.

VALENCIA HOTEL,
1843, August 6.

It seems that my coming here has caused infinite alarm.  The common people do not know what to conjecture, but have some notion that the “sappers and miners” are to build a bridge to admit the charge of cavalry into the island.  An attendant of Mrs Fitzgerald expressed how strange it was that a man looking so mild and gentle could meditate such things “but never fear, Maam, those that look so mild are always the worst”:  then she narrated how that her husband was building some stables, but that she was demanding of him “Pat, you broth of a boy, what is the use of your building stables when these people are coming to destroy everything.”  I suspect that the people who saw me walking up through the storm yesterday must have thought me the prince of the powers of the air at least.

HIBERNIAN HOTEL, TRALEE,
1843, August 7.

I sailed from Valencia to Cahersiveen town in a sail-boat up the water (not crossing at the ferry).  I had accommodated my time to the wish of the boatman, who desired to be there in time for prayers:  so that I had a long waiting at Cahersiveen for the mail car.  In walking through the little town, I passed the chapel (a convent chapel) to which the people were going:  and really the scene was very curious.  The chapel appeared to be overflowing full, and the court in front of it was full of people, some sitting on the ground, some kneeling, and some prostrate.  There were also people in the street, kneeling with their faces towards the gate pillars, &c.  It seemed to me that the priest and the chapel were of less use here than even in the continental churches, and I do not see why both parties should not have stopped at home.  When the chapel broke up, it seemed as if the streets were crammed with people.  The turnout that even a small village in Ireland produces is perfectly amazing.