tomes of the Fathers, whether to barb his exquisite irony in dissecting St. George Mivart’s exposition of the orthodox Catholic view of Evolution, or in the course of his studies in Biblical criticism.  Of Greek, mention has already been made.  He employed his late beginnings of the language not only to follow Aristotle’s work as an anatomist, but to aid his studies in Greek philosophy and New Testament criticism, and to enjoy Homer in the original.  In middle life, too, he dipped sufficiently into Norwegian and Danish to grapple with some original scientific papers.  When he was fifteen, Italian as well as German is set down by him in his list of things to be learnt, though for some time the pressure of preparing for the London matriculation barred the way; and on the voyage of the Rattlesnake he spent many hours making out Dante with the aid of a dictionary.  No doubt, also, he must have read some Italian poetry with his wife during their engagement and early married days, for she had a fair acquaintance with Italian, as well as equalling his knowledge of German.  When he was past sixty and ill-health, cutting short his old activities, had sent him to seek rest and change in Italy, he took up Italian again, and plunged into the authorities on the very interesting prehistoric archaeology of Italy.

To return to his early development.  There is extant a fragmentary little journal of his, begun when he was fifteen, and kept irregularly for a couple of years.  Here the early bent of his mind is clearly revealed; it prefigures the leading characteristics of his mature intellect.  He jots down any striking thought or saying he comes across in the course of his reading; he makes practical experiments to test his theories; above all, his insatiable curiosity to find out the “why” and “how” of things makes him speculate on their causes, and discuss with his friends the right and wrong of existing institutions.

This curiosity to make out how things work is common to most healthy boys; to probe deep into the reasoned “why” is rare.  It makes the practical mechanic into the man of science.  Possessing both these qualities as he did, it is easy to understand his own description of his early ambitions:—­

As I grew older, my great desire was to be a mechanical engineer, but the fates were against this; and, while very young, I commenced the study of medicine under a medical brother-in-law.  But, though the Institute of Mechanical Engineers would certainly not own me, I am not sure that I have not all along been a sort of mechanical engineer in partibus infidelium.  I am now occasionally horrified to think how little I ever knew or cared about medicine as the art of healing.  The only part of my professional course which really and deeply interested me was physiology, which is the mechanical engineering of living machines; and, notwithstanding that natural science has been my proper business, I am afraid there is