ging Paris. I suggested that the shells might have fallen in
the place by accident; but he maintained that it was not the case,
and that the bombardment was intentional.

The most execrated man in the scientific circle at this time was
Leverrier. He had left Paris before the Prussian siege began, and had
not returned. Delaunay assured me that this was a wise precaution
on his part; for had he ventured into the city he would have been
mobbed, or the Communists would have killed him as soon as caught.
Just why the mob should have been so incensed against one whose
life was spent in the serenest fields of astronomical science was
not fully explained. The fact that he had been a senator, and was
politically obnoxious, was looked on as an all-sufficient indictment.
Even members of the Academy could not suppress their detestation
of him. Their language seemed not to have words that would fully
express their sense of his despicable meanness, not to say turpitude.

Four years later I was again in Paris, and attended a meeting of
the Academy of Sciences. In the course of the session a rustle
of attention spread over the room, as all eyes were turned upon
a member who was entering rather late. Looking toward the door,
I saw a man of sixty, a decided blond, with light chestnut hair
turning gray, slender form, shaven face, rather pale and thin, but
very attractive, and extremely intellectual features. As he passed
to his seat hands were stretched out on all sides to greet him, and
not until he sat down did the bustle caused by his entrance subside.
He was evidently a notable.

"Who is that?" I said to my neighbor.

"Leverrier."

Delaunay was one of the most kindly and attractive men I ever met.
We spent our evenings walking in the grounds of the observatory,
discussing French science in all its aspects. His investigation
of the moon's motion is one of the most extraordinary pieces of
mathematical work ever turned out by a single person. It fills two
quarto volumes, and the reader who attempts to go through any part
of the calculations will wonder how one man could do the work in
a lifetime. His habit was to commence early in the morning, and
work with but little interruption until noon. He never worked in
the evening, and generally retired at nine. I felt some qualms of
conscience at the frequency with which I kept him up till nearly ten.
I found it hopeless to expect that he would ever visit America,
because he