THE STORY OF AN ENTOMOLOGIST 



(Loud roars.) "You seem surprised that I should confer this 

 particular degree upon this man, and I will explain that it is 

 because, although he did not reach the North Pole, he came 

 d d near to it." 



I could go on for many pages with stories of the funny things 

 that happened at these meetings. For instance, in 1905, we were 

 meeting at New Orleans in the winter time. The city had 

 recovered from what in June bid fair to be a serious epidemic 

 of Yellow Fever, but which had been controlled and finally 

 stamped out by well planned and conducted anti-mosquito 

 operations under the efficient guidance of Dr. J. H. White, of 

 the United States Public Health Service. During the meeting 

 the officers and members of the Boston Club gave a smoker 

 in honor of the officers of the Association. In the course of the 

 evening there were three speeches. Dr. H. W. Wiley was called 

 upon, of course. He was inimitable, as usual. I remember that 

 he called attention to the fact that the city of New Orleans 

 was largely built on soil that must have been brought down 

 far from the north by the great Mississippi River and its tribu- 

 taries. He went on to say that his father's farm was in southern 

 Indiana, on the banks of the Ohio River, and that much of 

 the farm had been washed away in the course of years. He 

 felt sure that the soil from his father's farm formed the base 

 on which the St. Charles Hotel was built, but that he had 

 decided not to enter suit against the hotel or against the city 

 for damages. 



Then, since I was permanent secretary of the Association, I 

 was called upon. I told a little story to this effect: One day at 

 my office I was called to the telephone, and the man at the 

 other end of the line announced that he was a Post Office in- 

 spector and wished me to come to see him at once. I asked for 

 some reason, but he replied in a mandatory way that I must 



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