Montesinos.—­Of all travels, those of the mere botanist are the least instructive —

Sir Thomas More.—­To any but botanists—­but for them alone they are written.  Do not depreciate any pursuit which leads men to contemplate the works of their Creator!  The Linnean traveller who, when you look over the pages of his journal, seems to you a mere botanist, has in his pursuit, as you have in yours, an object that occupies his time, and fills his mind, and satisfies his heart.  It is as innocent as yours, and as disinterested—­perhaps more so, because it is not so ambitious.  Nor is the pleasure which he partakes in investigating the structure of a plant less pure, or less worthy, than what you derive from perusing the noblest productions of human genius.  You look at me as if you thought this reprehension were undeserved!

Montesinos.—­The eye, then, Sir Thomas, is proditorious, and I will not gainsay its honest testimony:  yet would I rather endeavour to profit by the reprehension than seek to show that it was uncalled for.  If I know myself I am never prone to undervalue either the advantages or acquirements which I do not possess.  That knowledge is said to be of all others the most difficult; whether it be the most useful the Greeks themselves differ, for if one of their wise men left the words [Greek text which cannot be reproduced] as his maxim to posterity, a poet, who perhaps may have been not less deserving of the title, has controverted it, and told us that for the uses of the world it is more advantageous for us to understand the character of others than to know ourselves.

Sir Thomas More.—­Here lies the truth; he who best understands himself is least likely to be deceived in others; you judge of others by yourselves, and therefore measure them by an erroneous standard whenever your autometry is false.  This is one reason why the empty critic is usually contumelious and flippant, the competent one as generally equitable and humane.

Montesinos.—­This justice I would render to the Linnean school, that it produced our first devoted travellers; the race to which they succeeded employed themselves chiefly in visiting museums and cataloguing pictures, and now and then copying inscriptions; even in their books notices are found for which they who follow them may be thankful; and facts are sometimes, as if by accident, preserved, for useful application.  They went abroad to accomplish or to amuse themselves—­to improve their time, or to get rid of it; the botanists travelled for the sake of their favourite science, and many of them, in the prime of life, fell victims to their ardour in the unwholesome climates to which they were led.  Latterly we have seen this ardour united with the highest genius, the most comprehensive knowledge, and the rarest qualities of perseverance, prudence, and enduring patience.  This generation will not leave behind it two names more entitled to the admiration of after ages than Burckhardt and Humboldt.  The former purchased this pre-eminence at the cost of his life; the latter lives, and long may he live to enjoy it.