On one occasion I remember Mr John Delane, the famous Editor of the Times,' on his return from a journey abroad, telling my father that he had been present when an altercation was going on between a landlord and a man who claimed special privileges on the ground that he was Mr Murray of the Hand-Books. Mr Delane intervened and said, Mr Murray happens to be a friend of mine, and you are not he.' He therefore assisted in turning the impostor out of the house. Henry Reeve, in his Memoirs, writes,

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4

'My stay at Vienna displeased me mightily; but the last two days of it were rendered more agreeable by the very welcome company of John Murray fils. I wish he had arrived sooner, for he is a very agreeable person, and the most thoroughgoing sightseer who ever trod the deck of a packet-boat.'

My father himself wrote so charming an account of the origin of the Hand-Books that I only venture to add a few details as to his early journeys. In 1829 he visited the chief places of interest in Holland and Belgium; in 1830, Paris, Marseilles, Bordeaux and Central France; in 1831, with Torrie as companion, he went to Milan, Venice, Salzburg, Munich, etc., but on this occasion he was prevented from reaching Vienna by an outbreak of cholera. In 1836 he made his longest journey-down the Danube to the borders of Turkey and Wallachia. On one of these occasions he visited Goethe, of whom he writes:

'On reaching Weimar, having been favoured with an introduction to Goethe, I had the honour and pleasure of a personal interview with the hale old man, who received me in his studio (decorated with casts of the Elgin Marbles and other works of Greek art), attired in a brown dressing-gown, beneath which shone the brilliant whiteness of a clean shirt -a refinement not usual among German philosophers. On this occasion I had the honour of presenting to Goethe the MS. of Byron's dedication of Werner to him.'

In 1837 he travelled with his two sisters up the Rhine, and through Switzerland to Milan; and in 1841 he explored the Pyrenees with his friend Brockedon, the well-known artist, doing much mountain-climbing in the days before that became a popular pastime. He was an early member of the Alpine Club, being elected in 1858.

Throughout these years he was busy writing and

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

auction when, owing to the crowd, a floor gave way and the hearthstone fell into the room below and killed him.

My father and mother were a most devoted couple, and until near the end, when illness confined her to the house, and he made his last journey to Italy with his daughters and younger son, I do not believe they were ever separated for more than a few days. To those who knew her as she was, Sir George Richmond's portrait recalls her refined graceful personality, but to others no words of mine can convey the gentle and sympathetic charm which endeared her to all who ever came within her influence.

Thus far I have confined my account mainly to my father's education and recreations, I must now turn to the business side of his life. It is not my intention, nor would it be possible within the limits of an article, to give a continuous and detailed account of my father's life. My object is to place on record a few incidents of his career in illustration of his character. I think it must have been during his journey in Bohemia in 1831 or '32 that he first made the acquaintance of Prince Metternich, whose family seat at Königswart he then visited. When Prince Metternich was a refugee in England, about the year 1850, my father went to visit him at Brighton; and the old statesman read him a chapter of his reminiscences-the account of his famous interview with Napoleon at Dresden when the Emperor, pacing up and down the room in a rage, threw down his hat and passed and repassed it lying on the floor, in the expectation that Metternich would pick it up for him. Metternich however paid no attention; and in the end the Emperor had to pick it up himself. My father was so impressed by this description that he offered the Prince a large sum (I think 3000l. or 40007.) to be allowed to publish the Memoirs, but the Prince would not consent-it was too soon. Many years afterwards, when these records were made public, my father eagerly read the book, but found that the Dresden scene was by far the best plum of the whole; and he considered that he had had a fortunate escape.

In the course of business my father was brought into close relations with John Wilson Croker, a man who

was maligned and misrepresented by Macaulay and his faction, and whose reputation was never fully restored till the publication of his Memoirs enabled the public to find out what manner of man he really was. When that book, in the preparation of which my father took an important part, appeared, he sent a copy to Lord Dufferin, then Viceroy of India, who replied:

'Simla, 1884.

'MY DEAR MURRAY, I have just finished reading Croker's Correspondence, and I cannot refrain from writing you a line to say what a favourable impression they have left upon my mind in regard to your distinguished friend. . . . I knew absolutely nothing about him except that he was the reputed original of "Rigby" in "Coningsby" and was otherwise unpopular. I am so grateful now to you for having hindered me making a disrespectful allusion to so able and highminded a man.*

'The volumes are a very noble record of a blameless, patriotic, innocent and industrious life; and I am glad to think that they will amply vindicate Mr Croker's memory from the unfounded aspersions with which it has hitherto been clouded in the eye of that careless and uninstructed majority of mankind which is prone to found its estimates of its fellow-creatures on the malevolent and unverified gossip of the day. . . .

'Ever yours sincerely,

'DUFFERIN.'

This is only one example of scores of similar testimonies from distinguished men which the book evoked, and which afforded great gratification to my father, as did also the following anecdote which came to his knowledge about the same time.

Mr F. P., a relation of Croker's, who knew both Thackeray and Disraeli, determined to ask them why they had treated him so severely as 'Wenham' and 'Rigby' in their novels. One day, after Croker's death, he met Thackeray in the Park and asked him the question. The reply was, I supposed Croker's character was common knowledge. I never heard the report contradicted.' F. P. replied:

*This refers to a slighting allusion to Croker which Lord Dufferin had made in his 'Letters from High Latitudes,' and which my father had persuaded him to omit from the book.

On one occasion I remember Mr John Delane, the famous Editor of the Times,' on his return from a journey abroad, telling my father that he had been present when an altercation was going on between a landlord and a man who claimed special privileges on the ground that he was Mr Murray of the Hand-Books. Mr Delane intervened and said, 'Mr Murray happens to be a friend of mine, and you are not he.' He therefore assisted in turning the impostor out of the house. Henry Reeve, in his Memoirs, writes,

'My stay at Vienna displeased me mightily; but the last two days of it were rendered more agreeable by the very welcome company of John Murray fils. I wish he had arrived sooner, for he is a very agreeable person, and the most thoroughgoing sightseer who ever trod the deck of a packet-boat.'

My father himself wrote so charming an account of the origin of the Hand-Books that I only venture to add a few details as to his early journeys. In 1829 he visited the chief places of interest in Holland and Belgium; in 1830, Paris, Marseilles, Bordeaux and Central France; in 1831, with Torrie as companion, he went to Milan, Venice, Salzburg, Munich, etc., but on this occasion he was prevented from reaching Vienna by an outbreak of cholera. In 1836 he made his longest journey-down the Danube to the borders of Turkey and Wallachia. On one of these occasions he visited Goethe, of whom he writes:

'On reaching Weimar, having been favoured with an introduction to Goethe, I had the honour and pleasure of a personal interview with the hale old man, who received me in his studio (decorated with casts of the Elgin Marbles and other works of Greek art), attired in a brown dressing-gown, beneath which shone the brilliant whiteness of a clean shirt -a refinement not usual among German philosophers. On this occasion I had the honour of presenting to Goethe the MS. of Byron's dedication of Werner to him.'

In 1837 he travelled with his two sisters up the Rhine, and through Switzerland to Milan; and in 1841 he explored the Pyrenees with his friend Brockedon, the well-known artist, doing much mountain-climbing in the days before that became a popular pastime. He was an early member of the Alpine Club, being elected in 1858.

Throughout these years he was busy writing and