assured me that he did not dare to venture on the ocean.
The only voyage he had ever made was across the Channel, to receive
the gold medal of the Royal Astronomical Society for his work.
Two of his relatives--his father and, I believe, his brother--had
been drowned, and this fact gave him a horror of the water.
He seemed to feel somewhat like the clients of the astrologists,
who, having been told from what agencies they were to die, took every
precaution to avoid them. I remember, as a boy, reading a history of
astrology, in which a great many cases of this sort were described;
the peculiarity being that the very measures which the victim took
to avoid the decree of fate became the engines that executed it.
The death of Delaunay was not exactly a case of this kind, yet it
could not but bring it to mind. He was at Cherbourg in the autumn
of 1872. As he was walking on the beach with a relative, a couple
of boatmen invited them to take a sail. Through what inducement
Delaunay was led to forget his fears will never be known. All we
know is that he and his friend entered the boat, that it was struck
by a sudden squall when at some distance from the land, and that
the whole party were drowned.

There was no opposition to the reappointment of Leverrier to his old
place. In fact, at the time of my visit, Delaunay said that President
Thiers was on terms of intimate friendship with the former director,
and he thought it not at all unlikely that the latter would succeed
in being restored. He kept the position with general approval till
his death in 1877.

The only occasion on which I met Leverrier was after the incident
I have mentioned, in the Academy of Sciences. I had been told that
he was incensed against me on account of an unfortunate remark I had
made in speaking of his work which led to the discovery of Neptune.
I had heard this in Germany as well as in France, yet the matter was
so insignificant that I could hardly conceive of a man of philosophic
mind taking any notice of it. I determined to meet him, as I had
met Hansen, with entire unconsciousness of offense. So I called
on him at the observatory, and was received with courtesy, but no
particular warmth. I suggested to him that now, as he had nearly
completed his work on the tables of the planets, the question of
the moon's motion would be the next object worthy of his attention.
He replied that it was too large a subject for him to take up.

To Leverr