June, I9I7-] SlOSSON : A FeW MEMORIES. 97 



the describer, I suppose, as a sort of reward for my meekness in the 

 denuding matter. If Dr. Packard sometimes asked favors and sacri- 

 fices from his friends and fellow enthusiasts, he was, himself, always 

 ready to make full return in the most generous, unselfish way. When 

 he took my breath away by writing to me at Franconia : " My press- 

 ing wants just now are the eggs and larvte of Sciodonta, Lophodonta 

 — especially Gluphisia — also Ncricc and Prionia; try to send them. 

 Also I should like the larva of Spilosoma congnia, alive " (you will 

 understand how easy it would be just to go out and procure these 

 desiderata!), he would in the same letter beg me to call upon him 

 freely for identifications, offer me perfect specimens of rare moths 

 and show his loyal friendship in many ways. His was a most gener- 

 ous, unselfish nature. In all the years of our friendship I never heard 

 him say an unkind word concerning another or even show sympathy 

 with or assent to criticisms of fellow scientists uttered in his presence. 

 I remember well one occasion when I spoke to him of an article then 

 recently published in which the writer made allusions to some of the 

 professor's work in a contemptuous and most unpleasant tone. I 

 supposed Dr. Packard had already seen it, but he had not and asked 

 for the magazine containing it. Such a pained expression came into 

 his face that I thought he was deeply wounded at the unjust censure, 

 and tried to show him that none of his many friends and admirers 

 would allow their opinions to be affected by the article. " It is not 

 that," he said, " the worst is that I'm afraid the man is right. I 

 went into that matter too hastily, without sufficient research or study; 

 that is my great fault always. I shall write and tell him this." And 

 I have no doubt that he did so. 



" How much American entomology,"' he wrote, in June, '92, " will 

 miss Henry Edwards. I, myself, shall feel his loss sorely." I am 

 glad I knew them both so well. 



Dr. Packard died in 1905, just at the time I, myself, was passing 

 through a great personal sorrow. In the very last letter he sent me, 

 he wrote: "Do you and Dr. Prime go south next winter? I wish I 

 could be with you there. I am just longing for soft warm air instead 

 of the chilly winds of New England, for streams and woods and 

 flowers, and, above all, the new truths I might find there in my — in 

 our — favorite pursuit." I believe his longing is satisfied. 



