Biographical Memoir 35 



thinks of himself, I never knew such a big-hearted 

 man." I will touch on only one other character- 

 istic. He was subject to periods of the deepest 

 depressions, a trait also inherited from his father, 

 which sometimes weighed his spirits down for 

 days, and which it seemed impossible for him to 

 dispel. Often on this California journey the effort 

 to appear bright and cheerful when he was in one 

 of these moods physically exhausted him, and in 

 some of his letters he speaks of the relief it was 

 when night came and he was alone, and had no 

 need to look or be other than he felt. He never 

 outlived these attacks as the naturalist did, perhaps 

 because his life was so much shorter. 



My father's home-coming showed him many sad 

 changes, for his father was now not only an old 

 but a broken man, and the spirit of the home was 

 no longer joyous. Father, mother, and sons had 

 always been most united, unusually so it seems, as 

 many incidents and events are recalled. Possibly 

 this deep affection was the result of the struggles 

 of early days, which, throwing them so much on 

 each other for companionship, developed a sym- 

 pathy with one another which lives full of separate 

 interests would not have fostered — possibly the 

 great similarity of work and tastes drew them 

 closer to each other than when such conditions do 

 not exist, but whatever the reason, it is certain that 

 the ties which held them together were never 



