28 



He was methodical without beiug systematic. His very life iu later 

 years was a life of routine only broken here and there by Sabbath 

 visits to " Woodside," the childhood home of his adoi)ted daughter. Nor 

 was he idle during these visits, for upon his return Monday morning he 

 always brought back a considerable amount of fresh entomological ma- 

 terial, the result of his field rambles and excursions, frequently an- 

 nouncing a new fact or discovery, or displaying some unknown larvse 

 to rear, and always exhibiting something interesting. 



His enthusiasm was the mainspring of his endeavor, his untiring in- 

 dustry, coupled with method, the means of accomplishing the under- 

 takings which it prompted. He cared little for the good opinion of the 

 world as far as relating to himself personally, but he not only found 

 pleasure in, but invited appreciation of, his utilitarian schemes. It was 

 a great satisfaction to him to feel that he possessed Ijhe friendship and 

 esteem of the leading scientihc men of his age, but he never courted 

 their favor, and his modesty led him to shrink from posing as a con- 

 spicuous figure among them. 



Had he lived to complete his work in his own way and found means 

 to ])ublish it in its entirety the world would have had a better appre- 

 ciation of the immensity and scope of the undertaking than any sim- 

 ple statements of friend or biographer will ever convey. 



I will close this brief sketch with a tribute to Mr. G-lover from the 

 Ijen of an intimate friend, written in 1874, which appeared in Field and 

 Forest four years after. The last two stanzas proved prophetic. 



THE PUOFESSOIS. 

 [Inscribed to Professor G .] 



Little cares be for the world, but sits 



Till evening, from earliest dawn, 

 And Hgures and etches and writes, 



And the work goes bravely on. 



And a monument grows, day by day, 



That shall tell to the world his fame 

 When marble has crumbled away — 



And he silently carves his name. 



Carves it in Nature's soft lines. 



With a graver skilled and true ; 

 And the acid eats till the eye defines 



The outline of promise in view. 



And the days and years go fleeting bj', 



Tasks are finished and, new oues set ; 

 Still the end is not, nor draweth nigh — 



There are pages unwritten yet. 



Pages unwritten that ever will be, 



For the longest life is a span — 

 Thathis dream may approach reality, 



He is working while he can. 



