CHAPTEE XIII 



1882 



THE year 1882 was a dark year for English science. 

 It was marked by the death of both Charles Darwin 

 and of Francis Balfour, the young investigator, of 

 whom Huxley once said, " He is the only man who 

 can carry out my work." The one was the inevitable 

 end of a great career, in the fulness of time; the 

 other was one of those losses which are the more 

 deplorable as they seem unnecessary, the result of 

 a chance slip, in all the vigour of youth. I remember 

 his coming to our house just before setting out on 

 his fatal visit to Switzerland, and my mother begging 

 him to be careful about risking so valuable a life as 

 his in dangerous ascents. He laughingly replied 

 that he only wanted to conquer one little peak on 

 Mont Blanc. A few days later came the news of his 

 fatal fall upon the precipices of the Aiguille Blanche. 

 Since the death of Edward Forbes, no loss outside 

 the circle of his family had affected my father so 

 deeply. For three days he was utterly prostrated, 

 and was scarcely able either to eat or sleep. 

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