BOTANICAL GAZETTE. 125 
called him 
Williamson did not study the ferns in vain. He entered 
into the secrets of their innermost life, and when his dextrous 
needle traced their outlines in lifeless metal, they sprang into ex- 
istence as vividly and life-like as when growing in their native 
haunts. 
_ He was at the writer’s home in June, 1881, and the magnet- 
ism of his presence drew toward him all our household, of which 
he quickly became a part. We walked with him over and 
through the adjacent portion of the “ Middlesex Fells,” he chat- 
ting with the children, with whom he became a great favorite, 
like one of themselves, yet all the while his keen glance search - 
ing for, to him, new plants and flowers. And so we led him on 
to where the fringed polygala still lingered in bloom, without 
mentioning it, that he might have the pleasure of finding it him- 
self, when a cheery “Hallo! here is something new; what Is 
this?” made us turn to see him bending in admiration over this 
é was at the writer’s home again during the winter of the 
present year, and although he appeared outwardly to be in his 
usual ruddy health, a tired expression in his eyes gave vause for 
anxiety and led us to caution him against too much overwork. 
fined to his room for a week by what his physician called a se- 
vere attack of neuralgia in his side, but, he added, “I think it 
was more serious.”’ ; 
On the 10th of June he wrote, “Since my last severe sick- 
ness I have never felt real well. I have a great deal of hard 
work to do, and now I find myself unable to do anything. I 
am just completely broken down, and to morrow I go to the 
country and take a rest.’ aon 
nd so he went to the mountains of West Virginia with the 
hope that the mountain air and a brief rest would bring him 
taken with a congestive chill, which resulted in his death. Dr. 
Barksdale wrote that when he was called to attend him he found 
hina lying on a pallet by the bank of the river, and that he only 
