It contains the
right ascension, declination, and azimuth index, all neatly
carved upon slate. In his spectroscope he makes his prisms out
of the skylights used in vessels. These he grinds down to suit
his purpose. I have not been able to go into the complete detail
of the manner in which he effects the grinding of his glasses.
It is perhaps too technical to be illustrated in words, which are
full of focuses, parabolas, and convexities. But enough may be
gathered from the above account to give an idea of the wonderful
tenacity of this aged student, who counts his slates into the
ships by day, and devotes his evenings to the perfecting of his
astronomical instruments. But not only is he an astronomer and a
philologist; he is also a bard, and his poetry is much admired in
the district. He writes in Welsh, not in English, and signs
himself "Ioan, of Bryngwyn Bach," the place where he was born.
Indeed, he is still at a loss for words when he speaks in
English. He usually interlards his conversation with passages in
Welsh, which is his mother-tongue. A friend has, however, done
me the favour to translate two of John Jones's poems into
English. The first is 'The Telescope':--
"To Heaven it points, where rules the Sun
In golden gall'ries bright;
And the pale Moon in silver rays
Makes dalliance in the night.
"It sweeps with eagle glances
The sky, its myriad throng,
That myriad throng to marshal
And bring to us their song.
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