64 MEMORIES OF MY LIFE 



and that was its pretty, rustic hotel. The times of 

 travel from London so fitted in, that the walk from 

 Ryde about Easter-time began well before twilight, 

 and we reached Shanklin not too late to be taken 

 in and to thoroughly enjoy the moonlit evening. 

 Strickland was a strong swimmer, but he got into 

 some difficulty next morning owing to the surf and 

 undercurrents at the place where he entered the sea. 

 He returned safely to shore, to my great relief, but 

 much tired from long battling with the water. 



His end was tragic. It occurred in North America, 

 when winter had just set in, near some well-known 

 watering-place whose name I forget, separated by a 

 low range of hills from another watering place about 

 sixteen miles off. The road between the two was per- 

 fectly simple and easy in summer, but not so in the 

 snowdrifts and darkness of winter. Strickland would 

 attempt it, though much was said to dissuade him : 

 he never reached his destination. A relief party 

 tracked his wanderings. He seemed to have acted 

 as one demented by the hardship, for he had stripped 

 off his clothes and thrown them away, one after the 

 other, even his boots, so that his dead body was 

 almost wholly undressed. That was the story I 

 heard from two persons. 



On returning to Cambridge after the first long 

 vacation, I was put steadily to mathematical work, 

 coming- at length under that most distinguished 

 Cambridge tutor, William Hopkins (i 793-1 866), 

 mathematician and geologist. He kindly took a 

 good deal of interest in me and gave me much 

 encouragement, but the hopes he fostered were 

 shattered by serious illness, which precluded severe 



