hadn't heard of it. "Well, go to the library and get it; I haven't read 

 it myself, but Kupfler is a good man and I am sure it will help you." 

 A couple of days later, he came into the laboratory and, without preface, 

 began: "Read Kupflfer's paper yet?" "Yes, sir." "What do you think 

 of it?" "With all due respect to you, it is damn nonsense." He fairly 

 sputtered in astonished protest: "No, no, no; impossible, impossible; 

 Kupffer's a good man, I tell you." "Just let me tell you what is in it." 

 "All right, do so." I gave a rapid but fair outline of the paper and the 

 gist of it, when he burst out: "You're quite right, es ist verdammter 

 Unsinn." 



On another occasion, also a propos of some of Kupffer's views which 

 I thought childish and at which the Pacha laughed heartily, he said: 

 "The great trouble with scientific research nowadays is lack of organ- 

 ization. A man sits down and makes a cogwheel, polishes and lacquers 

 it and makes a beautiful cogwheel of it; then he puts it on the shelf 

 and waits until some machine is invented into which it will fit." That 

 remark contains a great truth and I have often quoted it. Today, half 

 a century later, great foundations, such as the National Research Coun- 

 cil, have been established, in order to bring about the needful coordina- 

 tion, a need which the scientific problems of the Great War made so 

 pressing. 



When I was beginning to get significant results in my work, I was 

 so imprudent as to write about them to zoologists who were engaged 

 in similar lines of investigation. Gegenbaur rapped me sharply over 

 the knuckles for doing that, incidentally betraying what he thought 

 of a sense of honour among his German colleagues. "You mustn't start 

 cackling as soon as you have laid an egg" was the text of his advice. He 

 was especially sharp with me for having written to Professor Gotte, of 

 Strassburg, whom he held in low esteem and referred to his pet ideas 

 as "Gotte-an idiocy." He said : "You were a great fool to write to Gotte 

 and you'll live to be sorry for it." His prophecy was fulfilled; on the 

 strength of my letter, the Strassburg professor managed to drag me 

 into a nasty little controversy, from which I escaped as soon as I could, 

 but with ruffled plumage, to continue Gegenbaur's hen metaphor. 



As a lecturer, Gegenbaur was much inferior to Leuckhart, to say 

 nothing of Huxley; his written style was very difficult for any one 

 who was not famihar with his terse, elliptical way of talking. As time 

 went on, I grew to appreciate more and more the fine material and 

 profound thought of his lectures and his skill as a blackboard draughts- 

 man, but I never ceased to be annoyed by his slow, hesitating and 



[III] 



