OCTOBBK 31, 1902.] 



SCIENCE. 



711 



During the five years from and after 1859, 

 Rev. Dr. W. H. Barris and I were neighbors 

 at Burlington, Iowa, and, owing to a common 

 interest in geological and paleontological 

 studies, our acquaintance become quite inti- 

 mate. He frequently called upon me at my 

 home to discuss our latest observations and 

 discoveries, our region having been a remark- 

 ably favorable one for those studies. His 

 calls were usually brief; his conversation was 

 generally limited to the subjects referred to 

 and to related topics, and I soon learned to 

 admire him for his comprehensive knowledge, 

 and to love him for his kindly nature. That 

 association was broken by the removal of both 

 of us to other places of residence, he going 

 to the professorship of Greek and Hebrew in 

 Griswold College at Davenport. There, also 

 he continued his scientific studies, became 

 one of the founders of the Davenport 

 Academy of Sciences and, in due time, its 

 president. 



Our friendly acquaintance was continued 

 by correspondence but after our separation at 

 Burlington we seldom met. Indeed, so com- 

 pletely were we separated that I did not see 

 him during the last thirty years of his life. 

 I occasionally sent him copies of my publica- 

 tions, the receipt of which he acknowledged 

 by letter, always in an appreciative manner. 

 In 1900 I published two articles in Science, 

 wherein I gave my views as to the proper 

 construction and use of certain scientific 

 terms derived from the Greek, and sent him 

 a copy of each. I got no reply from him on 

 that occasion, and some months afterward a 

 letter from his daughter told me of his death, 

 which occurred at Davenport, Iowa, on June 

 10, 1901. I was naturally grieved at the loss 

 of my old friend, and, wishing to perpetuate 

 the memory of so good a man, I wrote as 

 appreciative a sketch of his life and character 

 as I was able, and it was published at Des 

 Moines in the Annals of Iowa for October, 

 1901. 



Early in that month I received by mail at 

 my home in Washington, D. C, a copy of the 

 magazine containing the sketch and, after 

 re-reading it, I went to my room to take my 

 usual afternoon nap. Upon such occasions I 



frequently repeat to myself verses, or parts of 

 poems, which I committed to memory in my 

 youth. The rhythm and cadence have a 

 soothing effect and I soon fall asleep. As I 

 lay thinking of my friend I began repeating 

 to myself Halleck's well-known lines: 



Green be the turf above thee. 



Friend of my early days. 

 None knew thee but to love thee 



Nor named thee but to praise. 



Just as I finished the last line I heard a 

 voice on the further side of an arras near my 

 bed which I recognized as no other than his 

 own. I did not distinguish what he was then 

 saying, but he seemed to me to be speaking to 

 my wife, who had admitted him for a call 

 upon me, just as she had often done in the old 

 days. He then stepped into full view and I 

 observed that he was dressed in his usual 

 black walking suit and that he carried a book 

 under his arm. After giving me a pleasant 

 greeting he said archly, " Don't you think you 

 rather overdid that sketch?" I knew he re- 

 ferred to the one I had written of himself 

 and said quickly, " No, by no means." He 

 replied, " Well I thought some persons might 

 regard it as supererogatory." I said, " How 

 can they? It is all true, and I wrote it in all 

 sincerity." When he saw that I took the 

 matter so seriously he, with his characteristic 

 tact, at once changed the subject and said, 

 "By the bye, I called to speak to you about 

 the two articles you published in Science last 

 year. I read them before I went away and 

 ought to have written you about them, but I 

 neglected it. Tou were quite right in your 

 strictures upon the misuse of Greek words in 

 the construction of scientific terms. That 

 article was a grand, good thing." I replied, 

 " That is indeed praise from one who taught 

 Greek twenty-five years." "Well, that is 

 what I thought of it," he said. Then, pausing 

 as if he was thinking of something else, he 

 said, " But I must be going," and. moved away 

 a little. I called out, "Don't go. Doctor, I 

 have a lot of things I want to say to you." 

 He turned and looked at me and said, "Yes, 

 I must go " ; and with a gentle laugh, just an 

 audible smile, he was gone. His going so 



