42 Life and Letters of Francis Galton 



early deaths of his children. It would seem that the short-livedness of 

 the Button stock was handed down to the third generation. His eldest 

 daughter Sarah died at 1 3 ; his second child James at one year ; his 



reward industry in otiiers, and to make as many liearts as he could, Hglit and grateful 

 to God the Giver, never .seeking to fix the eye of the receiver on himself 



" Well do I recollect my dear grandfather's cheerful voice, as, at about six o'clock, 

 on a bright summer morning, he would call me to accompany him on his walk, or if he 

 were suffering from the gout, to walk by his wheel-chair in the shrubbery. First we 

 used to visit the little garden he had given me, and watcli the growth of the seeds and 

 roots I had planted there under his direction. Then we proceeded to the hothouse or 

 conservatoriea, where my grandfather affixed to various bunches of grapes or pines the 

 names of invalid friends or others, to whom they might be a comfort. If I had been a 

 good child, he would let me affix the tickets, and would teach me to print the names on 

 them or perhaps allow me to be the bearer of his gifts. And then he liked to visit his 

 bees in their glass hives, whence he drew many a lesson on industry. He was likewise 

 a great florist, and delighted to visit liis greenhouse, his auriculas, and other choice 

 flowers. Then we proceeded to the pond, or rather, perhaps, lake, since the stream on 

 which Birmingham stands runs through it. This lake occupied eight or ten acres, anfl 

 was of considerable length. It was truly beautiful ; its borders indented and clothed 

 with the finest willows and poplars I ever saw. The stillness was delightful, interrupted 

 only by some sparkling leaping fish, or the swallow skimming in circles over the water, 

 the hissing of the swans from their two woody islets, or the cries of the wildfowl from 

 the far-off sedges and bulrushes. It used to be a delight to me, when standing near my 

 grandfather in a rustic fishing-house at the farthest end of the pool, he applied to his 

 lips a little silver whistle (such as now, sixty-six year's after, I wear in remembrance of 

 him) and immediately the surface of the lake seemed instinct with life. Waterfowl, of 

 all descriptions, rose from their co\'orts, aiifl hurried towards us : the heavy Musco\y 

 ducks. Sheldrakes, Burrow ducks from the .Severn, sea-gulls, Canada and Cape and tall 

 Peruvian geese, and the little moor-hen and teal, half-sailing, half-flying, with six 

 majestic swans all drew near to be fed. How well do I remeniber my grandfather then 

 saying to me ' Thou canst not do much good, and canst feed but a \ery few animals ; 

 yet how pleasant it is to do even that ! God, the Father of all, opens His hand, and 

 all His creatures on the face of the wide earth are filled with good. How blessed is 

 He ! ' Then my grandfather would visit his mill, which was near the lake ; there he 

 inquired after all his workmen, went to the cottages of any that were ill, and was sure 

 to leave some substantial evidence of his visit, besides the kind word which accompanied 

 all his gifts. Pleasant were his friendly calls on some infirm or aged person, or sickly 

 child, and sure were those who diligently attended his school of a reward. 



" On our return to breakfast, my grandfather would make me partake of his little 

 ration of toast and clotted cream, and then came the pleasure of throwing open the 



window and spreading corn with salt on the large pigeon-board How eagerly 



I listened when my grandfather pointed out to me the deep attachment of the carrier 

 pigeon to her home, of the queest to her nest, of the turtledove to her mate ; that thej- 

 could only flourish upon corn and all their food seasoned with salt. He also showed me 



