THE CHOLERA. 
265 
you want a thing done well, do it yourself,” he would 
say ; and, indeed, it was no easy matter to overcome 
the prejudices or lazy customs indigenous in a village 
community. The instinct of self-preservation, however, is 
as strong in the poor man as in the rich, and people can 
soon be brought to see the importance of keeping the well 
free from soakage and impurities of any kind, if only 
sufficient trouble and personal interest are taken to explain 
to less educated brethren the importance of cleanliness. 
“Us have never give they things a thought,” was often 
remarked to the Dean, “ but we’ll clean up now a’wever ” 
(however), “ as you have showed us all about it.” Happily 
no cholera came ; but it was very striking to find how 
these practical suggestions and home-to-home visits allayed 
the panic, which is all the more terrible when circum¬ 
stances prevent people leaving a district in which an 
outbreak of disease has occurred. It may be added here 
that Buckland was the last Dean of Westminster who held 
the living of Islip. 
In his conspicuous position as Dean of Westminster, as 
well as in the active administration of his retired country 
parish, Buckland threw his best energies into the work 
before him. Public honours showed the esteem which he 
won by his laborious and useful life. 
“ Perhaps of all the varied marks of honour and respect,” 
Frank Buckland writes, “ which were heaped upon him at 
various times by the learned societies in all parts of the 
world, none yielded him higher gratification than the 
reception, on February 12th, 1848, from the hands of Sir 
H. de la Beche, of the Wollaston Medal. This is the 
highest mark of honour known in geological science, and 
