servation carried out by him for the
purpose. His modesty towards his reader is a delightful characteristic.
He simply desires to persuade you as one reasonable friend may persuade
another. He never thrusts a conclusion nor even a step towards a
conclusion upon you, by a demand for your confidence in him as an
authority, or by an unfair weighting of the arguments which he balances,
or by a juggle of word-play. The consequence is that though Darwin
himself thought he had no literary ability, and labored over and
re-wrote his sentences, we have in his works a model of clear exposition
of a great argument, and the most remarkable example of persuasive style
in the English language--persuasive because of its transparent honesty
and scrupulous moderation.

Darwin enjoyed rather better health in the last ten years of his life
than before, and was able to work and write constantly. For some four
months before his death, but not until then, it was evident that his
heart was seriously diseased. He died on April 19th, 1882, at the age of
seventy-three. Almost his last words were, "I am not the least afraid to
die." In 1879 he added to the manuscript of his autobiography already
referred to, these words:--"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."

From his early manhood to old age, the desire to do what was right
determined the employment of his powers. He has done to his
fellow-creatures an imperishable good, in leaving to them his writings
and the example of his noble life.

[Illustration: signature of E. Ray Lankester]

IMPRESSIONS OF TRAVEL

From 'A Naturalist's Voyage'

Among the scenes which are deeply impressed on my mind, none exceed in
sublimity the primeval forests undefaced by the hand of man; whether
those of Brazil, where the powers of Life are predominant, or those of
Tierra del Fuego, where Death and Decay prevail. Both are temples filled
with the varied productions of the God of Nature; no one can stand in
these solitudes unmoved, and not feel that there is more in man than the
mere breath of his body. In calling up images of the past, I find that
the plains of Patagonia frequently cross before my eyes; yet these
plains are pronounced by all wretched and useless. They can be described
o