192 MEMORIES OF MY LIFE 



where I was glad to feel in safety. The Irish dash 

 in Tyndall's blood gave a charm to all he did. He 

 was then fast rising, but had not yet reached the 

 fulness of his subsequent height in popular reputation, 

 which is perhaps the time in the mental develop- 

 ment of a man at which his character shows at its 

 brightest. 



My wife and I found a frequent travelling-com- 

 panion in Miss Brandram, afterwards the wife and sub- 

 sequently the widow of J. F. MacLennan, the writer 

 on various phases of prehistoric societies, Marriage 

 by Captitre, Totems, etc. She was a great friend to 

 both of us ; a companion and kind nurse to my w r ife 

 when she was ill, an excellent walking companion to 

 myself, and always ready to be of service. She helped 

 me much in revising some of my earlier writings, 

 especially the last edition of my Art of Travel. 



During her widowhood Mrs. MacLennan travelled 



o 



with us again, but at last a disaster occurred at a time 

 when we were living at Cimiez, above Nice. There 

 is a high-level railway from Nice to Grasse that 

 passes the little station of the Saut de Loup, a 

 waterfall about an hour's walk (I think) from the 

 station, which we wanted much to see. The foot- 

 path runs along a hillside and is perfectly good, but 

 too narrow for two persons to walk abreast. In more 

 than one place a streamlet cascades over it. Near its 

 destination the path is crossed by a more considerable 

 streamlet running among stones, that make stepping- 

 stones near enough to the surface to prevent the feet 

 being much wetted while crossing it, and which any 

 one accustomed to mountain walking would trip over 

 without remark. The pathway was broader at this 



