THE STORY OF AN ENTOMOLOGIST 



home, rose from their seats, walked down the aisle, and left 

 the room. 



The newspapers said nothing about this incident since we had 

 a very clever press secretary in those days (the Theodore 

 Waters whom I have told about in a previous chapter), who 

 conceived it to be his principal duty to keep certain things out 

 of the newspapers rather than to see that certain other things 

 got in. So this incident was covered up. But a day or so after 

 the meeting Waters told the story to a little group of newspaper 

 men with whom he had been associated. One of them — one of 

 those newspaper chaps who think in headlines — said, "Gosh, 

 Waters, why didn't you tell us? Oh, what a headline! 'And the 

 Germans goose-stepped down the aisle while Eliot hurled denun- 

 ciations at the Huns.' " 



I have said that I met Dr. Eliot for the first time at the Boston 

 meeting in 1899. That, I think, was the last of the August meet- 

 ings of the Association, and it was a memorable one for many 

 reasons. Since it was the first at which I officiated as permanent 

 secretary, I have probably remembered the interesting and funny 

 things more vividly. It was very hot at the time. There was a 

 lobster salad served at one of the general luncheons, and that 

 salad is still remembered by many members, who, through it, 

 became acquainted with a rather mild ptomaine poisoning. One 

 friend of mine always refers to it as "that lobster salad meeting." 



Josiah Quincy was then Mayor of Boston, and he gave a dinner 

 at the Union Club for a number of us. He sat at one end of the 

 big table, and an interesting friend of mine and of his, E. A. 

 MacDowell (a son of General MacDowell of Civil War fame), 

 sat at the other. After dinner the Mayor introduced a famous 

 French anthropologist who was a special guest of the association 

 at the meeting. The Frenchman rose and began: "Zis morning 

 I did spik to the Association in ze French, and I fear me they 



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