336 ELIZABETH CARY AGASSIZ 
replying to all the notes you received on that event- 
ful day, it seems to me a rather heavy penalty for 
becoming an octogenarian. But glad I am that you 
replied to mine, and so beautifully. Indeed I do 
remember the meeting of those two canoes; and the 
dance, over the river from Manaos; and many an- 
other incident and hour of that wonderful voyage. 
I remember your freshness of interest, and readiness 
to take hold of everything, and what a blessing to 
me it was to have one civilized lady in sight, to 
keep the memory of cultivated conversation from 
growing extinct. I remember my own folly in wish- 
ing to return home after I came out of the hos- 
pital at Rio; and my general greenness and incapac- 
ity as a naturalist afterwards, with my eyes gone to 
pieces. It was all because my destiny was to be a 
“philosopher” —a fact which then I didn’t know, 
but which only means, I think, that if a man is good 
for nothing else, he can at least teach philosophy. 
But I’m going to write one book worthy of you, dear 
Mrs. Agassiz, and of the Thayer expedition, if I am 
spared a couple of years longer. 
I hope you were not displeased at the applause 
the other night, as you went out. J started it; if I 
had n’t some one else would a moment later, for the 
tension had grown intolerable. 
How delightful about the Radcliffe building. Well, 
once more, dear Mrs. Agassiz, we both thank you for 
this beautiful and truly affectionate letter. 
Your affectionate 
Wan. JAMES 
