FIGHTING THE INSECTS 



On his way through Washington in June, Professor Riley 

 asked him whether he had at Cornell an advanced student of 

 good appearance, fairly good manners and ability, who could 

 come to Washington as his assistant. Comstock was good enough 

 to recommend me, and in July I received a letter from Riley 

 asking me if I would come to Washington in the autumn at a 

 salary of one hundred dollars a month. Of course I wanted to 

 go, but I talked it over with my mother, my father's old law 

 partner. Judge Beers, and a number of the professors in the 

 University. They all said that I would never be rich and that 

 they doubted whether I would ever be able to marry and live 

 comfortably. The opinion that weighed most with me was 

 voiced by Professor Burt G. Wilder, who said to me that natural- 

 ists as a rule did not care at all about money, and not especially 

 about comfort; that naturalists were born and not made, and 

 that he thought on the whole that I was a born naturalist. And 

 so I accepted. 



In early November, 1878, I started for Washington. My friends 

 gave me a send-ofi, and Professor Gage, going to the train, shook 

 hands in parting and said, "Now, Brother Howard, you and 

 I are going to devote our lives to science. We are not going to 

 let any confounded girls come between us and our work." I quite 

 endorsed this sentiment, and was greatly disappointed when, a 

 year later, I received Gage's wedding cards. The next time I 

 saw him I taxed him as a backslider, and he said, "Well, you 

 see. Brother Howard, I discovered what a great thing it is to 

 find someone who believes in you thoroughly and thinks that 

 you are quite the greatest person in the world." As a matter of 

 fact. Gage's married life was very happy. His wife was a true 

 helpmate, gave him a brilliant son, and herself did some bio- 

 logical work of high character. Her papers were signed Susanna 

 Phelps Gage. The son, Phelps Gage, who has grown into a 



[14] 



