something might happen (although she knew not what) of which she could make use as an excuse to defer their marriage. She still meant to marry Brandon, but she would not give up Carew. If the worst came to the worst, she would not give up Carew. And this was Lola's opinion. That night when she returned, Carew came with her, and Eleanor saw him. turned toward her, his back was toward the tree behind which Lola was hiding. Broad unbroken moonlight lay all around that tree; the girl could not escape; and three steps more in that direction would bring him within plain sight of her crouching form. And it seemed as if even this was not enough; for, as Eleanor stood there, she saw the same stranger come out from the rose thicket, cross over the grass, and join Lola. Ethan Carew had seen it all; and, in any danger, he intended to be with the woman he loved. He almost hoped, indeed, that there would be a discovery, to end the whole matter and give him his own. Another day and night passed, and the ninth night came. Eleanor had gone through every stage of torment; she believed that Lola was holding clandestine meetings with a former lover, but that she would finally give him up for Brandon. She believed that Brandon was infat- And now Brandon had but to take the uated with the girl, and would not credit three steps, and he would see not only the evidence against her even of his own Lola, but Carew, the two standing togetheyes; and she said to herself, with fever-er in the narrow shadow of the tree. ish bitterness, that it was a hard, hard fate that made her the only witness to all that was happening. Again and again the Again and again the doubt came to her: Brandon is a man of the world, astute and experienced. Would he not, after all, comprehend every thing if he should only see? This doubt was the temptation that haunted her. The ninth night came. Lola, grown bolder by impunity, came out of the house before midnight, passing under Eleanor's window, as usual, on her way to the arbor where she was to meet Carew. She had come to regard that window as quite safe. Had she not passed it again and again without detection? To Lola's mind Eleanor was quite old; probably she was in bed and asleep at an early hour in order to preserve her eyes and complexion. But on this night the young girl had barely reached the first tree when from the front of the house came another figure-Brandon himself. The moonlight was brilliant; he advanced slowly, as if looking for somebody. Eleanor, who had been at her window all the time behind the curtain, saw him, half started forward, then stopped. He came nearer. Hers was the only window on that side; it was open, and he knew that it was hers. He paused and looked up, but she did not move. Then he spoke. 'Eleanor," he said, softly-"Eleanor." 66 She parted the curtains and looked out. Come out on the balcony a moment, please." She obeyed; she was trembling, but he could not see that. It was a low balcony; she was quite near him. His face was The moonlight shone full in Eleanor's pale face. "Have you seen Lola?" asked Brandon. Brandon. "I am almost sure she is out here somewhere. Did she pass this way?" A long period seemed to go by, during which all the most eloquent and subtle devils that ever attack the human mind swarmed around the poor woman who loved him so deeply. It was not even necessary that she should speak at all, they said; hesitation would do it; even silence. Only three steps! But with a desperate effort over herself, with no hope of any thing save that she would not do this thing, she answered, clearly: "Yes; Miss Valdez came out to get water from the well, but she went back immediately-five minutes ago, perhaps--and is now in her own room. I heard her door close." She paused an instant; then added: "Will you be so good as to bring me my shawl from the front piazza? I forgot it when I came in." Brandon went, without a word; and, as she expected, the instant he disappeared, the two who were hiding left their perilous post, and ran across like shadows to the thicket. When he came back they were safely out of sight, and all was quiet. He held up the shawl. Her face was wan and white, her hands quite cold, as she took it from him. But she smiled bravely. It was her last effort-a supreme smile of self-conquest and renunciation. And then Brandon swung himself up to the balcony, and took her in his arms. "Noble, generous woman!" he said. “I saw them both. I know all. Kiss me once, to show me that you love me, and then I will kneel at your feet and admire you, my only love, now as ever, my wife, my Eleanor." For once a lie was noble. Brandon had discovered the true state of affairs several days before. With the first knowledge the whole veil of enchantment had fallen away from the Spanish girl; he understood what she was, and she sank at once into her true position. He was not even angry with her, only with himself. Mrs. Ethan Carew's handsomest wedding present bore his card. ported man of science of the first class. He may seem to scorn all applications of his discoveries to useful ends; but it is certain that a crowd of bright practical minds will follow in the path of his discoveries, and convert all his additions to the knowledge of nature into additional means for the conquest of nature. At any rate, there can be no doubt that the vessel which brought Louis Agassiz to our shores brought a scientific intelligence and scientific force which outvalued not only all the rest of the cargo, but of a thousand ordinary cargoes. In getting thorough possession of him, in making "It is a very satisfactory thing, isn't him an American citizen, and in resoluteit?" commented the winter colony, in trav-ly refusing, with his hearty concurrence, elling attire, bag in hand, "that this old to deliver him up to the country which engagement of ours is renewed. We were afterward claimed his services, the United accustomed to it, and so were the pine- States must be considered to have made a barrens and the scallops; in fact, it be- good bargain. He was too poor when he longed to the Point." arrived here to pay any "duties" into the Treasury; but the impulse he gave to science in this country enriched us in a degree that can not be measured by any money standard. Indeed, the American RECOLLECTIONS OF AGASSIZ. and are among the foremost to acknowledge the marvellous effects of his scientific inspiration; for he popularized pure science, and lifted high in public esteem the whole body of investigators who were loyally engaged in its service. From him came the most notable of all the maxims which illustrate the disinterestedness of the true devotee of science. At the time he was absorbed in some minute investigations in a difficult department of zoology, he received a letter from the president of a lyceum at the West, offering him a large sum for a course of popular lectures on natural history. His answer was: "I N the commerce of nations it is imporchange of minds as well as of merchandise. In the annual reports of our Secretaries of the Treasury the imports and exports are correctly given in the current eoin or currency of the land, and the balance of trade, either for or against us, is correctly estimated; but in stating the value of our imports there is an unavoidable omission of our annual importations of skilled laborers, of inventors, of engineers, and of men of genius generally in the various departments of art, literature, and science. The worth of such men can not be gleaned from the records of the Custom-house; yet it is plain that they must add enormously to the wealth of the country by simply diffusing their exceptional MAKING MONEY." The words deserve to knowledge or exercising their exceptional be printed in capitals; but Agassiz was intalents. Indeed, there can be no import-nocently surprised that a sentiment very ed wealth which exceeds in value the importation of the creators of wealth. The body which contains an ingenious and inventive mind may not be equal in bulk to a single case of goods which comes over in the same ship with him; but if the mind lodged in the body be that of a Watt, an Arkwright, or a Bessemer, it is impossible to compute the number of the fleets that may be needed to export the products of his brain. Even in the matter of pure science, it is difficult to compute the value in dollars and cents of an im VOL. LIX.-No. 349.-7 CAN NOT AFFORD TO WASTE MY TIME IN natural to him should have excited so much comment. He knew that scores of his brother scientists, American and European, would have used the words "afford" and "waste" in the same sense had they been similarly interrupted in an investigation which promised to yield them a new fact or principle. Still, the announcement from such an authority that there was a body of men in the United States who could not afford to waste time in making money had an immense effect. It convinced thousands of intelligent and opulent men of business, who had never | his exceptional powers of body and mind. before thought a moment of time devoted to the making of money could be wasted, that science meant something; and it made them liberal of their money when it was asked for scientific purposes. It did even more than this-it made them honor the men who were placed above the motives by which they themselves were ordinarily influenced. My first impression of the genius of Agassiz was gained when he was in the full vigor of his mental and physical powers. Some thirty-five years ago, at a meeting of a literary and scientific club of which I happened to be a member, a discussion sprang up concerning Dr. Hitchcock's book on "bird tracks," and plates were exhibited representing his geological discoveries. After much time had been consumed in describing the bird tracks as isolated phenomena, and in lavishing compliments on Dr. Hitchcock, a man suddenly rose who in five minutes dominated the whole assembly. He was, he said, much interested in the specimens before them, and he would add that he thought highly of Dr. Hitchcock's book as far as it accurately described the curious and interesting facts he had unearthed; but, he added, the defect in Dr. Hitchcock's volume is this, that "it is deescreep-teeve, and not com-par-a-teeve." It was evident throughout that the native language of the critic was French, and that he found some difficulty in forcing his thoughts into English words; but I never can forget the intense emphasis he put on the words "descriptive" and "comparative," and by this emphasis flashing into the minds of the whole company the difference between an enumeration of strange, unexplained facts and the same facts as interpreted and put into relation with other facts more generally known. The moment he contrasted "dees-creepteeve" with "com-par-a-teeve" one felt the vast gulf that yawned between mere scientific observation and scientific intel- | ligence, between eyesight and insight, between minds that doggedly perceive and describe and minds that instinctively compare and combine. The speaker vehemently expressed his astonishment that a scientist could observe such phenomena yet feel no impulse to bring them into relation to other facts and laws scientifically established. The critic was, of course, Agassiz, then in the full possession of all You could not look at him without feeling that you were in the presence of a magnificent specimen of physical, mental, and moral manhood; that in him was realized Sainte-Beuve's ideal of a scientist-"the soul of a sage in the body of an athlete." At that time he was one of the comeliest of men. His full and ruddy face, glowing with health and animation, was crowned by a brow which seemed to be the fit home for such a comprehensive intelligence; and the slight difficulty he overcame in enunciating English words only lent to them increased significance. He gave the impression that every word he uttered embodied a fact or a principle. Afterward he so adapted his organs of speech to the English language that he ended in speaking and writing it as though it were his mother-tongue. If there was any exception to be made, it was in one of his favorite terms, "development." He never completely overcame his tendency to pronounce it devil-ope-ment. It was my good fortune to meet him often during the last twenty-five years of his life; but my first impression, the impression of the comprehensiveness of his mind, was more and more confirmed as I came to know him more intimately. All the facts and principles of his special science were systematized in his vast and joyous memory, so that he was ever ready to reply to any unexpected question concerning the most obscure nooks and corners of natural history; but in replying he ever indicated that his immense grasp of the details of his science was free from any disposition to exaggerate any detail out of its connections. No isolated fact could exist in his mind. The moment it was apprehended it fell easily into relationship to the throng of other facts quietly stored in his broad intelligence, and became one of a group which illustrated a principle. His knowledge of particulars was extensive, minute, and accurate. Every separate fact was vividly present to the eye of his imagination, and yet all his knowledge was generalized knowledge. In thinking, therefore, on his accumulated, his multitudinous materials, it may be said that details were never in his way or out of his way: those that he needed crowded at once upon his mind; those he did not need kept at a respectful distance. I often watched the operations of his intellect when he was unexpectedly drawn into a discussion, but I never could detect any sign of that confusion of mind which results from a disturbance of the proper relations of memory to understanding. The facts he needed, as I have said, came at once to do his bidding; and the thousands of irrelative facts which were also at his command never obtruded on his attention to obstruct the rapid course of his lucid argument. It would seem as if there never was among naturalists an intellect more thoroughly disciplined than his, or which was less hampered by the abundance of the material on which it worked. But the marvel of Agassiz, and a neverceasing source of wonder and delight to his friends and companions, was the union in his individuality of this solidity, breadth, and depth of mind with a joyousness of spirit, an immense overwhelming geniality of disposition, which flooded every company he entered with the wealth of his own opulent nature. Placed at the head of a table, with a shoulder of mutton before him, he so carved the meat that every guest was flattered into the belief that the host had given him the best piece. His social power exceeded that of the most brilliant conversationists and of the most delicate epicures; for he was not only fertile in thoughts, but wise in wines and infallible in matters of fish and game. It was impossible to place him in any company where he was out of place. The human nature in him fell into instinctive relations with every kind and variety of human nature outside of him. His wide experience of life had brought him into familiar contact with emperors, kings, and nobles, with scientists and men of letters, with mechanics, farmers, and daylaborers-in short, with men divided by race, rank, wealth, and every other distinction from other men; and by the felicity of his cosmopolitan nature he placed himself on an easy equality with them all, never cringing to those conventionally above him, never "condescending" to those intellectually below him, but cordially welcoming every body he met on the common ground of human brotherhood. Himself a strong man, his test of manhood was entirely independent of conventional rules. When he discovered a real man, it was indifferent to him whether he occupied a palace or a hovel; and certainly no man of science ever equalled him in captivating the representatives of all grades of rank and intelligence by sheer force of humane sympathy. The French, or Austrian, or Brazilian emperor, the peasant of the Alps, the "rough" of our Western plains, agreed at least in one opinion-that Agassiz was a grand specimen of manhood. His scientific contemporaries, though brought into occasional antagonism with his opinions, admitted that he possessed the one exceptional charm which they lacked; for this wonderful creature could, by his social qualities, make pure science popular among a large class of voters who had hardly risen to an appreciation of the immense advantages which had followed the many practical applications of pure science to their own welfare and advancement. Indeed, the impulse that Agassiz gave to the cause of science in the United States is universally admitted to have been as remarkable as it was beneficent. A distinguished American scientist, who was entirely uninfluenced by the geological and zoological theories of Agassiz, once confided to me his judgment as to the value of the great naturalist's work as a scientific force. "I look upon him,' he said, "as a prophet, as an apostle of science; he has made every honest investigator his debtor; he has not only elevated in public esteem the intellectual class to which he belongs, but he has induced the moneyed class and the political class to give science the means of carrying out its purposes. Since Agassiz came into the country you can not but have noticed that private capitalists, State Legislatures, and the Congress of the country have been liberal of aid to every good scientific enterprise. We owe a great part of this liberality to Agassiz. He it was who magnetized the people with his own scientific enthusiasm. He made science popular, because in him science was individualized in the most fascinating and persuasive of human beings. All the rest of us are more or less so dominated by our special lines of investigation, or so infirm in physical health, or so unsympathetic with ignorant people, or so supercilious, or so controlled by some innate 'cussedness' of disposition, that we can not readily adapt ourselves to the ways of men of the world; but Agassiz, with his enormous physical health and vitality, and his capacity to meet all kinds of men on their own level, drew into our net hundreds of people, powerful through their wealth or their political influence, who would never have taken any interest in science if they had not first been interested in Agassiz. And these men were the men who gave us the money we needed for the extension of scientific knowledge and the promotion of scientific discovery. Agassiz is a great scientific intelligence; but he is even greater considered as an immense scientific force." The extraordinary influence which Agassiz exerted over assemblages of men who had small perception of the scope of his thinking was due to a general impression of his disinterestedness, as well as to his magnetic personality. On one occasion, when his museum was in need of money for a purely scientific purpose, he invited the members of the Legislature of the State of Massachusetts to visit it, with the design of inducing them to vote the sum he required. After a short persuasive address, delivered in the hall of the museum, he led them over the building, pointing out the great things that had been achieved, and the still greater things that were to follow if his plan was carried out. In ascending the stairs I happened to overhear two intelligent legislators, evidently farmers, who were considering the propriety of giving the proposed legislative aid. "I don't know much," said one," about the value of this museum as a means of education, but of one thing I am certain-that if we give Agassiz the money he wants, he will not make a dollar by it. That's in his favor." The appropriation was made a day or two after, though it was generally considered that no other man could have wrung the sum from the reluctant hands of that economical Legislature. It is hardly necessary now to affirm that Agassiz did not win this distinction of being the greatest scientific force of the country by any of the various arts of insincerity and indirection. Of no man could it be said with more truth that his behavior was always the expression of his nature. The naturalness of his "good manners" constituted their charm. He was what Dryden calls one of "God Almighty's gentlemen;" a gentleman inborn and inbred; a gentleman who had no need of being trained artificially in the rules of politeness, because in him the gentleman was but one expression of the large individuality of the man. So little was there of varnish in his manners, so little of the restraint on sensibility which we are accustomed to consider as the perfection of good-breeding, that he did not hesitate to indulge in occasional outbreaks of intellectual and moral wrath which coxcombs might consider decidedly improper and ungenteel. Indeed, when any thing which he deemed of vital moment was up for discussion, his speech was as spontaneous as that of a generous, warmhearted, ingenuous, impetuous boy; and yet the finest gentlemen of his time admitted that he generally excelled them all in his instinctive conformity to that higher law of good-breeding which regulates the intercourse of mind with mind. He was the recognized head, the chairman, of a peculiar Boston club, admission to which depended rather on antipathy than sympathy as regards the character and pursuits of its members. It was ingeniously supposed that persons who looked on all questions of science, theology, and literature from different points of view would be the very persons who would most enjoy each other's company once a month at a dinner table. Intellectual anarchy was proclaimed as the fundamental principle of this new organization, or rather disorganization; no man could be voted in who had not shown by his works his disagreement with those who were to be associated with him; and the result was, of course, the most tolerant and delightful of social meetings. Societies based on mutual admiration had been tried, and they had failed; here was a society based on mutual repulsion, and it was a success from the start. The two extremes were Agassiz the naturalist and Emerson the transcendentalist, and they were the first to become intimate friends. Nothing could exceed the admiration of Agassiz for Emerson's intellectual and personal character. The other members agreed to disagree after a similar charming fashion, and the contact and collision of so many discordant minds produced a constant succession of electric sparks both of thought and wit. Probably not even the club of which Johnson, Burke, Reynolds, Garrick, and Goldsmith were members brought so many forcible individuals into such goodnatured opposition, or afforded a fairer field for the display of varied talents and accomplishments. When they were all seated at one board, and the frolic hostilities of opinion broke out in the free play of wit and argument, of pointed assertion and prompt retort, the effect was singu |