THE STORY OF AN ENTOMOLOGIST 



these words are expressed a striking difference between him and 

 other people. What interested them, deHghted him. I never 

 knew a man with so many enthusiasms. I never knew a man 

 who was so instantly and truly responsive to an entertaining or 

 quaint turn of thought or to a fine new idea. He was as like a 

 child to whom his little world is a Wonderland as it is possible 

 for a great man with a great mind to be. 



I thought of Dr. Bell when I heard James Harvey Robinson 

 say, in his address on "The Humanizing of Knowledge," at Salt 

 Lake City in June, 1921: 



"Those to whom a commonplace appears to be extraordinary are 

 very rare, but they are very precious, since they and they alone have 

 made our minds. It is they who, through hundreds of thousands of 

 years, gradually enriched human thought. . . . Without them, the 

 mind as we know it would never have come into existence. They are 

 the creators of human intelligence. The mass of human kind must 

 perforce wait for some specially wide-eyed individual to point out to 

 them what they have hitherto accepted as a matter of routine or failed 

 altogether to notice. These mindmakers are the questioners and seers. 

 We classify them roughly as poets, religious leaders, moralists, story 

 tellers, philosophers, theologians, artists, scientists, inventors. They 

 are all discoverers and pointers-out. What eludes the attention of 

 others catches theirs. They form the noble band of Wonderers. Com- 

 monly unnoticed things excite a strange and compelling curiosity in 

 them, and each new question sets them on a new quest." 



Voltaire once wrote, "Inventors will always hold the first place 

 in the memory of mankind." This must be apparent to every 

 one, and, as the originator of a great invention of enormous value 

 to the human race, Graham Bell's memory will live for all time. 

 But those who knew him, who were inspired by him, who were 

 made better and happier through having met him, even rarely, 

 jiiust deeply regret that they cannot pass on to posterity the 



[295] 



