What He Was 



3 



which this much can at least be said that it is 

 as likely as any other grouping of the human 

 chromosomes to give that shuffle of the genes 

 that makes for greatness. Brown certainly had 

 that infinite capacity for taking pains that counts 

 for genius, and to what good purpose he put his 

 talents the sequel goes to show. 



Alfred Brown was born at Cirencester, England, 

 on the 26th of April, 1834, and he died at Aliwal 

 North, in the Province of the Cape of Good Hope, 

 on the 29th of June, 1920, at the ripe old age of 

 86 years. There on the banks of the mighty 

 Orange River would sleep on this village Darwin, 

 almost unknown to fame and quite forgotten. 

 But some presiding Genius bids me play the 

 Resurrectionist with his memory, and lay fresh 

 laurel on his tomb, for it is not right that South 

 Africa should forget her scientific heroes. 



It is recorded that Defoe's great tale of the 

 Adventures of Robinson Crusoe was founded on 

 the vicissitudes which Alexander Selkirk had to 

 undergo when shipwrecked on the lonely island 

 of Juan Fernandez. But what that story lacks in 

 truth it gains a thousandfold by an imaginative 

 telling. A strange Chance has put a somewhat 

 similar log into my hands, in the shape of the 

 Journal of Alfred Brown, the facts of which alone 

 must be the garnish of my particular tale. 



