The Second Summer at Penikese 



words of Colonel Theodore Lyman, one of his Death of 

 earliest and ablest students, they 



buried him from the chapel that stands among the 

 College elms. The students laid a wreath of laurel on his bier, 

 and their manly voices sang a requiem. For he had been a 

 student all his life long, and when he died he was younger 

 than any of them. 



His headstone at Mount Auburn is a boulder 

 brought from the glacier of the Lauter Aar, on which, 

 when professor at Neufchatel, he had built a rude 

 hut in order to study the movement of ice. In that 

 tiny "Hotel des Neufchatelois," famed among ge- 

 ologists, he once told me, he "'slept on the ice for 

 six weeks and had ever since suffered from rheuma- 

 tism in the right shoulder." 



The following summer we gathered again at 

 Penikese under the general direction of Alexander 

 Agassiz and Wilder. Eager new faces now appeared, 

 among them my Cornell intimates, Copeland and 

 Dudley, Cornelia M. Clapp, for many years a 

 professor at Mount Holyoke, my sister Mary, and 

 Helen Bingham (sister of Mrs. Copeland), who had 

 succeeded me at Lombard. Wise teachers were 

 present as before, the work was stimulating but a 

 sense of loss was felt above everything else. One Memorial 

 evening, therefore, we met in the lecture hall, and 

 each spoke as best he could of the absent Master. 

 The words which longest remained with us were 

 those of Samuel Garman: 



He was the best friend that ever student had. 



On the walls we put several mottoes taken from 

 Agassiz's talks to us: 



C H7 3 



