Sir David Gill. 
223 
prisms, photographic mountings, have all had the touch of his improving 
fingers upon them. 
Men continually sought to do him honour. He was a Knight of 
the Prussian Order, 2^our le mcrite. He was also a Commander of the 
French Legion of Honour. He held honorary, degrees from every 
university of standing in the British Isles, as well as from many colonial 
and foreign universities. He was a fellow or a member of almost every 
learned scientific society in Europe and in America. 
He was twice gold medallist of the Eoyal Astronomical Society, once 
gold medallist of the Eoyal Society. Both the i\merican Academy of 
Science and the French Academy conferred upon him a similar honour. 
We have spoken of his great capacity for work. In his prime he 
could for weeks steadily go on observing during the greater pai't of the 
night, and then carry on during the whole day the ordinary duties 
connected with the direction and organization of a large observatory. 
His energy indeed was boundless, his industry tireless. 
Because of these robust and virile qualities he often seemed a hard 
taskmaster, for he spared neither himself nor others. He was impatient 
of slow men, and upon any carelessness in the discharge of duty fell 
the rude shock of his anger. Whether it was the cutting of the grass 
on the lawn in the front of his house, the marshalling of serried battalions 
of pregnant figures, the building of a foundation for a telescope, the read- 
ing of a circle, the work had to be the very best possible. There must be 
no scamping, no slacking, no indifference, no thoughtlessness. 
His standard of service he always held high, both for himself and 
those who worked alongside him. 
To those who sat by his hearth or at his board, who walked with him 
o' evenings up and down the quiet avenues that he had taken pains to 
make beautiful, or sauntered across the wind-swept Cape Flats, there 
was given the great privilege of seeing behind the strenuous, exacting 
worker, into the heart of the man himself. His graciousness, almost 
winsomeness, his kindness, his humanity, made him a rare companion. 
His conversation, discursive yet ever full, easy yet animated, moved 
from books to men, from men to cities, from cities to social and 
political themes. 
He was all through his life a wide and a wise reader, giving up a 
definite portion of each day to a quiet hour with a favourite book. 
He knew all the leading scientific and literary men of his day, and 
when he grew reminiscent of Clerk Maxwell, and Tyndall, of Froude 
and Carlyle, of Kipling and George Macdonald, the hours became 
moments. 
Into the political movements of the home-land, and of this land of 
ever-changing fortunes, he entered with the intensity of a man who is 
