FRANCIS TREVELYAN EUCKLAND. 39J 



" One of my earliest offences in life was eating 

 the end of a carriage candle. For this, the birch 

 rod not being handy, my father put me into a furze 

 bush, and therein I did penance for ten minutes. 

 A furze bush does not make a pleasant lounge 

 when only very thin summer garments are worn." 



The father, Dean Buckland, was distinguished as 

 a man of letters, and for his geological research. 

 The mother, as is often the case with sons of 

 genius, was a remarkable woman, who idolized her 

 boy, and who received in return an affection un- 

 usual in its intimacy and confidence. 



She began to write about him early, in her jour- 

 nal. " At two and a half years of age," she says, 

 " he never forgets either pictures or people he has 

 seen. Four months ago, as well as now, he would 

 have gone through all the natural history books in 

 the Radcliffe Library, without making one error in 

 miscalling a parrot, a duck, a kingfisher, an owl, or 

 a vulture." 



On taking him to see the camelopard and kan- 

 garoos in Windsor Park, she says, " He ran about 

 with the latter and the other live animals without 

 the least fear, though he got thrown down by them. 

 He is a robust, sturdy child, sharp as a needle, but 

 so volatile that I foresee some trouble in making 

 him fix his attention." 



When three and a half, she says, "he certainly is 

 not at all premature ; his great excellence is in his 

 disposition, and apparently very strong reasoning 

 powers, and a most tenacious memory as to facts. 



