So Edward Livingston Youmans. 



Words cannot describe it. In all that emphasis of 

 tone and gesture there was nothing harsh. The effect 

 was magnetic. I never heard him give a lecture, but 

 I have often been told that his audiences sat as if spell- 

 bound, and could not turn their eyes from him while 

 he was speaking. He must have made a fine appear- 

 ance on the platform, for he did everywhere. He was 

 about five feet and ten inches in height, and in middle 

 life weighed not far from one hundred and ninety 

 pounds. He was well proportioned, and easy in his 

 movements ; a man of fine fibre, with clear complex- 

 ion and soft brown hair, somewhat curly ; always 

 plainly dressed, but with daintiest neatness. Quite 

 compatible with perfect manly dignity, and add- 

 ing to its charm, was a slight touch of modest 

 deference, the natural outgrowth of unselfish inter- 

 est in his fellow-men and constant readiness to learn 

 something from the person with whom he was 

 talking. In this particular there was something 

 about his manner that used to remind me of Mr. 

 Darwin. 



Prosecuted, as these lecture tours were, chiefly in 

 winter, through circuits of thousands of miles, when 

 trains were as yet uncomfortable and slow and their 

 connections uncertain, it was often impossible for the 

 lecturer to avoid exposure that injured his health. 

 Sometimes his vigour was seriously impaired, and the 

 effects could be seen in the lessened animation of his 

 lectures. At last, warned by attacks of rheumatism 

 and increased liability to catch cold, he withdrew 

 from the field where he had been so useful, from the 

 work he had so thoroughly enjoyed. 



The following characteristic extracts from his cor- 

 respondence may serve to illustrate some of the mis- 



