27 
he allowed the largest liberty. Strong in his opinions, preferring that 
his own suggestions should take precedence of the suggestions of oth- 
ers whom he thought less thoroughly informed upon a given subject, he 
was never unreasonable save when the views of others ran counter to 
his prejudices, and then he was as inflexible as iron. A little child could 
lead him, but a regiment of soldiers could not drive him. 
In disposition he was serious but rarely melancholy or cynical. On 
the contrary, he had a rare fund of humor and a keen sense of the ridicu- 
lous, appreciating a joke whether at his own expense or the expense 
of a Mend, and never losing an opportunity for its enjoyment. His sa- 
tire was pointed, his sarcasm cutting, the most common modes of ex- 
pression being caricature and verse, in either of which he was very 
ready. But he could also write very pleasant verse in a humorous vein 
when wrought up to his subject, two examples of which, in my posses- 
sion, “The Velocipede” and “A Valentine” (and very personal to the 
writer) are highly-prized mementoes. “He never forgot a kindness,” 
and it was not easy for him to forgive an injury, nor did he ever regain 
confidence in those who deceived him or endeavored to use him. Of a 
jealous nature, he was sometimes suspicious, and like many others with 
this disposition, he was quick-tempered, and his anger, when aroused, 
for the time being was almost uncontrollable. 
Susceptible to the world’s praise, he shrank from its censure, which 
may be given as one reason for his never having described an insect. 
Mr. Glover could never have been a specialist. While recognizing the 
importance of, and necessity for, technical work to the end of settling 
the vexed questions of classification and synonomy, he had no patience 
with those whom he designated as “ species grinders,” and in his private 
discourse was often quite denunciatory in his criticisms of their work. 
He often made the boast that he had never named an insect, and as often 
declared it to be his opinion that many of the existing species in our 
lists were but varieties. In his entomological work generally he was 
exceedingly cautious in making statements and averse to “rushing 
into print;” he often underrated his own judgment in an endeavor to 
be on the side of fact, and he was always just in giving credit to others. 
In his habits of living he chose to be untrammelled by the conven- 
tionalities of custom, attending to necessities of existence in a way that 
offered the least personal inconvenience to himself. So the man who 
from having moved in the cultivated society of his home on the Hud- 
son, had in the performance of duty come to “ herd with negroes and 
Indians in Demerara, where a white man is as good as a darkey,” or 
summered in the Florida swamps “ with pet alligators and rattlesnakes,” 
found it no hardship to prepare a simple breakfast while the wax was 
hardening upon his copper plate, or to eat it, while perchance the acid 
was eating into the shining metal. His walk at sundown and his restau- 
rant dinner later, his chief mental and physical recreation, gave him 
zest for his evening’s work. 
