life. He bestowed great praise upon the illustrations of his books, which were done by his children, — sometimes exclaiming over a clever bit, "Michael Angelo is nothing to it."

Much of Darwin's scientific reading was done in German, which was a great labor to him, as he never really mastered the language. He was not alone. among his scientific friends in this, for he remarks that when he told Sir Joseph Hooker that he had begun German, Hooker replied, "Ah, my dear fellow, that's nothing; I've begun it many times." He kept up his interest in all branches of science, and used to say that he got a kind of satisfaction in reading the treatises upon subjects which he could not understand.

He was the most industrious of men, and the most regular in his habits of work. He never rested for a day unless forced to do so by sickness. Week days and Sundays passed off alike, each with its stated amount of work and rest, and he seldom took a holiday or made a visit, unless over-urged by his friends, who saw his need of it. Then, he would drive hard bargains about the time, and usually get off with a day or two less than was prescribed. He was very careful and economical in money matters, yet very generous to his children. He was exact and methodical in all his affairs, and thoroughly understood his business matters. But he did not trouble himself about the management of the garden, the cows, and such things, and "considered the horses so little his concern that he used to ask doubtfully whether he might have a horse and cart to send to Keston for Drosera, or to the nurseries for plants."

The change in his religious belief came about very gradually and was without pain. At the end, he had lost everything except his belief in a First Cause. He writes in 1879: "In my most extreme fluctuations I have never been an Atheist, in the sense of denying the existence of a God. I think that generally, and more and more as I grow older, but not always, an Agnostic would be the more correct description of my state of mind." And again: "I cannot pretend to throw the least light on such abstruse problems. The mystery of the beginning of all things is insoluble by us; and I, for one, must be content to remain an Agnostic." The whole chapter in his Life, which is given to the subject of religion, is of intense interest, showing as it does the candor and extreme sincerity of the man, and his genuine modesty, for he frequently disclaims the power to reason or to think deeply upon this great theme, and never makes the least effort to justify his opinions or to impress them upon others.

The Duke of Argyll records a conversation with him during the last year of his life, in which he said to Mr. Darwin with reference to some of his remarkable works on the Fertilization of Orchids, and upon the Earthworms, and various other observations he had made of the wonderful contrivances for certain purposes in nature, that it was impossible to look at these without seeing that they were the effect and expression of mind. "I shall never forget," he says, "Mr. Darwin's answer. He looked at me very hard, and said, 'Well, that often comes over me with overwhelming force; but at other times,' and he shook his head vaguely, adding, 'it seems to go away."

His attitude upon the subject of vivisection was much discussed at one time, and his own summing up of the matter will be read with interest, as the question is still a burning one. He says in a published letter upon the subject in 1881:—

"Several years ago, when the agitation against physiologists commenced in England, it was asserted that inhumanity was here practised, and useless suffering caused to animals; and I was led to think that it might be advisable to have an Act of Parliament on the subject. I then took an active part in trying to get a Bill passed, such as would have removed all just cause of complaint, and at the same time have left physiologists free to pursue their researches, - a Bill very different from the Act which has since been passed.

"It is right to add that the investigation by a Royal Commission proved that the accusations made against our English physiologists were false. From all that I have heard, however, I fear that in some parts of Europe little regard is paid to the sufferings of animals, and if this be the case, I should be glad to hear of legislation against inhumanity in any such country. On the other hand, I know that physiology cannot possibly progress except by means of experiments on living animals, and I feel the deepest conviction that he who retards the progress of physiology commits a crime against mankind. Any one who remembers, as I can, the state of this science half a century ago, must admit that it has made immense progress, and it is now progressing at an ever-increasing rate."

Another letter upon this subject to Mr. Romanes illustrates the difficulty he often found in expressing his ideas, and the labor that serious writing was to him to the end of his life. He writes:

"I have been thinking at intervals all the morning what I could say, and it is the simple truth that I have nothing

worth saying. You, and men like you, whose ideas flow freely, and who can express them easily, cannot understand the state of mental paralysis in which I find myself. What is most wanted is a careful and accurate attempt to show what physiology has already done for man, and even more strongly what there is every reason to believe it will hereafter do. Now I am absolutely incapable of doing this, or of discussing the other points suggested by you. . . . I do not grudge the labor and thought; but I could write nothing worth any one reading."

Although his general health improved somewhat during the last ten years of his life, there was apparent a loss of physical vigor, and an almost permanent sense of weariness. In 1879 he writes: "My scientific work tires me more than it used to do, but I have nothing else to do, and whether one is worn out a year or two sooner or later signifies but little." In 1881 he says: "I am rather despondent about myself. . . . I have not the heart or strength to begin any investigation lasting years, which is the only thing which I can enjoy, and I have no little jobs which I can do." In July, 1881, too, he writes to Mr. Wallace: "We have just returned home after spending five weeks at Ullswater; the scenery is quite charming, but I cannot walk, and everything tires me, even seeing scenery. . . . What I shall do with my few remaining years of life I can hardly tell. I have everything to make me happy and contented, but life has become very wearisome to me."

Rest was near at hand. Some affection of the heart began to trouble him the last of February, 1882, and on the 19th of April he died. He was buried in Westminster Abbey, in the north aisle of the

nave, a few feet from the grave of Sir Isaac Newton. The last words of the manuscript of his Autobiography, written in 1879, read thus: "As for myself, I believe that I have acted rightly in steadily following and devoting my life to Science. I feel no remorse from having committed any great sin, but have often and often regretted that I have not done more direct good to my fellow creatures."