CALL’S GEOLOGICAL WORK 
155 
When residing in Louisville, Call unearthed, among the his¬ 
torical documents of the Filson Club of that place, the unpublished 
notes of the eccentric French naturalist, Constantine Samuel 
Rafinesque, who for many years in the early part of the last 
century made America his home. In the “Life and Writings of 
Rafinesque” Call set aright most of the old naturalist’s descrip¬ 
tions of invertebrates of the Mississippi valley, which had long- 
been the despair of systematists of later days. This sumptuous 
quarto volume was published by the Filson Club, and proved to 
be one of its most cherished publications. 
Call’s was really a brilliant mind. Had he been set in a con¬ 
genial environment and had he not been continually hampered 
by his teaching, which he was always forced to follow in order 
to gain a livelihood, he doubtless would have developed into one 
of the great naturalists of his country and perhaps of his day. 
His purse was always lean; arid he could do little along purely 
scientific lines that he planned. Although genuinely generous 
many of his actions were often misinterpreted by those who did 
not know him very well. So preoccupied was his mind at times 
that he became very forgetful. Not infrequently he would 
borrow an armful of books from some friend and the very next 
day he could not for the life of him tell to whom they belonged. 
On this account some of these books doubtless never got back to 
the original owners. It was the same with specimens. Soon 
many persons began to judge him harshly. Really this was largely 
mistaken inference. On the other hand he was equally careless 
with his own property. Lending freely any of his books or speci¬ 
mens he promptly forgot by whom they were received; and it 
might be months before they turned up again. 
These things changed greatly after his marriage, which took 
place rather late in life. His absentmindedness grew noticeably 
ameliorated. At; the same time his powers of concentration of 
mind visibly deteriorated. His productive efforts became less 
spontaneous and more irregular. Within a lenstrum he ceased 
publishing altogether; and soon passed out of sight of the asso¬ 
ciates of his old scientific circle. From that day to the date of his 
demise, twenty-five yea^rs later, he remained completely inactive; 
and the newer generation of zoologists knew him not. 
The experiences of the Iowa Academy furnishes a curious in¬ 
stance of his usual lack of mental equipoise. The minutes of the 
