publishing his Hand-Books, of which I have the original MSS. in his own handwriting. He wrote to his father, To the best of my belief I have not borrowed one sentence from any English author nor materially from any foreign one.'

Even in the midst of his work he found opportunities to attend scientific meetings in Great Britain. Here is an account of a meeting at Oxford in July 1833.

'At the Oxford meeting almost the only representatives of Scottish Science were Sir David Brewster, and one Forbes. Cambridge sent forth as her champions Airy, Babbage, Whewell, and Sedgwick. Deputies came from almost every provincial Society. The venerable Dalton from Manchester (much to the credit of Oxford; a symptom of waning prejudice, you will style it) was honoured by the Doctor's degree, along with Brewster, a Presbyterian, and Faraday, a Sandemanian. Imagine however the Quaker Sages, decked out in Cardinal-like robes of scarlet, and even appearing and listening to a Sermon at the Cathedral on Sunday, in the seat of the Doctors and in the aforesaid robes. Even the science of Botany Bay was not left unrepresented-Sir Thomas Brisbane, the founder of the Observatory there, being present. Buckland was the life and soul of the meeting, of which he was president. The session continued for a week. On one of the days he gave an equestrian lecture on the geology of the neighbourhood. The class à cheval amounted to about 200-a capital troop of cavalry to scour over the plain-with the learned Professor, hammer in hand, at their head. A loud blast from his whistle announced the scene of action, and the whole party clustered round him in a few moments. He is a capital lecturer, with much power of lucid illustration. He combines so much fun as to render any subject interesting, however abstruse. He really was great upon the subject of a gigantic skeleton of the Megatherium recently arrived from Buenos Ayres.'

Edinburgh held for him another attraction besides the friends and associations of his student days. During his residence there he had seen a very charming little girl dancing at a children's party, and in 1847 he returned to be married to her. This was Marion, third daughter of Alexander Smith, an Edinburgh banker, who met his death in a curious way. He was inspecting the contents of Lord Elgin's house in Edinburgh prior to a sale by

'Let me tell you one story about him, for the truth of which I can vouch. Croker and his wife lived at Molesey. Their only child had died many years before and they were a lonely couple. Near them was a school, much frequented by the sons of Indian officials; and many of the boys, having no home in England, had to spend the holidays at school. Croker said to his wife, "I feel pity for those boys-let us ask some of them here in turns to spend a few days with us." Mrs Croker demurred at first, as she said the boys would do mischief. "Never mind that," said Croker, "what does that matter if we can give them pleasure?" And accordingly they were asked and came.'

When Thackeray heard this, the tears came into his eyes, and he said to F. P., 'Is Mrs Croker still alive?' 'Yes, she is, and is in London.' 'Will you take me to her, that I may apologise for what I have written?' and he was taken and apologised. Disraeli's reply to the same question was, 'I will tell you some day'-but he never did.

I have often been struck by the fact that my father's intimate friends were mostly experts in some subjects, and that he used to discuss these subjects with them, not as a mere outsider but with intimate knowledge of his own. Such were Sir Charles Lyell and Sir Roderick Murchison, the geologists; James Fergusson, the architect; Layard, Livingstone and Schliemann, the travellers and archæologists; Sir William Smith, the scholar; Grote, Stanley and Motley, the historians; Sir Joseph Crowe, the writer on Art, and many others.

Sir Henry Layard told me that, when he first came home from Nineveh, he asked my father to purchase the copyright of his book for 2501. My father replied that he always disapproved of an author parting with his copyrights, but that he would pay the expense of publication and give Layard the larger share of the profits. The first year,' said Sir Henry, 'I received 1500l. as my share; and every succeeding year, to the time of your father's death, I received a further cheque.'

When war was declared against Russia in 1854, my father wrote a memorandum on Varna and the Dobrudja, explaining the geological and geographical nature of the country, which he had visited, and pointing out some strategical advantages which might arise from an

occupation of it. This memorandum (enclosing a map of Sir R. Murchison's) of which I have a copy, was sent by Sir Charles Trevelyan to Lord Raglan, who replied:

'MY DEAR SIR,-I am very much obliged to you for being so good as to send me Sir Roderick Murchison's geological map and Mr Murray's memorandum, which is, as you truly say, highly creditable to him, and the map will certainly be very useful to me should I require the information it contains. 'Believe me, very faithfully yours,

'RAGLAN.

'March 7, 1854.'

Dr Schliemann's researches at Troy aroused my father's eager interest, and he lost no time in getting into communication with him with a view to publishing his book. They soon became intimate friends, and the publisher rendered valuable assistance to the author in the preparation of all his subsequent volumes.

When Schliemann came home from Mycenæ, he expressed a strong desire that Mr Gladstone, who took a deep interest in all his discoveries, should write an introduction. My father approached Mr Gladstone, who replied that he was much gratified by the request, but that, as he was not an expert scholar or antiquary, he must make a stipulation that two umpires should be appointed to decide in case of any difference of opinion arising between himself and Schliemann. Sir Charles Newton and Dr Philip Smith, brother of Sir William Smith, agreed to act in this capacity. The introduction was duly written, and only one point of difference arose. Mr Gladstone translated Kvávoç as bronze; and to this Schliemann demurred. He called on my father, who reminded him of the compact, and the question was referred to the umpires, both of whom gave a definite verdict against bronze; but Mr Gladstone would not give way, even in view of his own proviso, and bronze it remained in the book-only modified by the saving clause, kuanos, which I take to be bronze.'

Mr Gladstone used often to call and have a chat with my father; and one of these interviews occurred when he was in the midst of his dispute about the Gadarene Swine. After he had gone, my father came into my

room and said, 'Am I dreaming, or is there such a word in Greek as TоρKÉta?' I replied that I certainly did not remember it, but would look it up in Liddell and Scott, where it does not appear. Well,' said he, ‘Mr Gladstone has been discoursing for half an hour on the neglect of conjectural emendations in the Greek text, and says he is convinced that the true reading of the passage in the letter from the Elders at Jerusalem to Antioch (Acts xv. 29) should not be ἀπέχεσθαι ἐιδωλοθύτων και ἅίματος και πνικτων και πορνειας, but πορκέτας. What value there may be in this conjectural emendation I must leave it to scholars to decide.

When the MS. of the Origin of Species' was submitted, my father showed it to his intimate friend George Pollock (a son of the old Chief Baron), who strongly urged him to publish it. He took the advice, though in those days it required some courage to act upon it. Charles Darwin was one of the most courteous and modest of authors. I was present when he called, in 1887, with a MS. in his hands and said, 'Here is a work which has occupied me for many years and interested me much. I fear the subject of it will not attract the public, but will you publish it for me?' My father replied, 'It always gives me pleasure and hope to hear an author speak of his work thus. What is the subject?' 'Earthworms,' said Darwin. The book was duly published, and six editions were called for in less than a year.

The Bishop of London's Fund was founded in 1863, and my father as Hon. Treasurer (a post which he held till his death) was entrusted, at the first public meeting in aid of the enterprise, with the task of appealing for money. Just before he rose to make his speech, some very distinguished man (alas! I have forgotten who it was) sitting near him leaned over and said, ' How much are you going to ask for?' 500,000l.' said my father. That is no use,' said the other, make it a million.' And so, on the spur of the moment and on his own responsibility, he 'made it a million.' That amount has now been far surpassed.

My father spoke but seldom in public; the calls were not so frequent in his day as they are now; and never, in small things or great, would he consent to push himself forward. But, when he did speak, he had the gift of

saying what he had to say in few words and always with some happy allusion, or anecdote or joke. As an instance I may mention the following occurrence. He was one of the committee of residents at Wimbledon who fought a long and stern fight with Lord Spencer, as Lord of the Manor, to retain Wimbledon Common for the public and resist all encroachments. They succeeded; and, when their labours were successfully ended, their chairman Sir Henry Peek, M.P., asked them all to dinner, and after dinner presented each member with a silver memorial cup, engraved with a suitable inscription and contained in a red velvet bag. My father was called upon, without any warning, to return thanks to Sir Henry. This he did, introducing the incident of Joseph's brethren on their return from Egypt, and the cup being found in Benjamin's sack, with singular felicity and success.

Dr Livingstone was a constant guest at my father's house when he was in England; and I remember him carrying his gold-banded Consular cap, as men used to carry their opera hats, to the drawing-room after dinner. His portrait, painted by Henry Phillips for my father, now hangs in my dining-room. One day Livingstone, on looking at it, said to my mother, 'Surely I do not look so stern as that, Mrs Murray,' to which she replied that she considered it a very good likeness. I think it was the last letter my father ever received from the Doctor, in Africa, which contained a postscript to this effect:

'Please tell Mrs Murray that I have seen my own face, for the first time for many months, in Lake Tanganyika, and it is very like the portrait.'

I must not omit to mention Paul Du Chaillu, whose arrival from the Gaboon in 1861, with his gorillas and his stories of dwarfs and other African wonders, caused such a stir in London. He was bitterly and most unjustifiably attacked as an impostor, but he had many staunch supporters such as Prof. Owen, Sir R. Murchison and my father; and his reports of the dwarfs, the great Central Forest, and other wonders of Central Africa, have been amply confirmed in later years. His chief assailant was one of the members of the Staff of the British Museum, who could not pronounce the letter V