"Segregation of the unfit," he remarked to an interviewer after the Eugenic Conference, at which much was unhappily said that wholly justified his caustic denunciation, "is a mere excuse for establishing a medical tyranny. And we have enough of this kind of tyranny already ... the world does not want the eugenist to set it straight.... Eugenics is simply the meddlesome interference of an arrogant scientific priestcraft." Thus his radicalism and his so-called fads were born of his high aspirations. He was not the recluse calmly spinning theories from a bewildering chaos of observations, and building up isolated facts into the unity of a great and illuminating conception in the silence and solitude of his library, unmindful of the great world of sin and sorrow without. He could say with Darwin, "I was born a naturalist"; but we can add that his heart was on fire with love for the toiling masses. He had felt the intense joy of discovering a vast and splendid generalisation, which not only worked a complete revolution in biological science, but has also illuminated the whole field of human knowledge. Yet his greatest ambition was to improve the cruel conditions under which thousands of his fellow-creatures suffered and died, and to make their lives sweeter and happier. His mind was great enough and his heart large enough to encompass all that lies between the visible horizons of human thought and activity, and even in his old age he lived upon the topmost peaks, eagerly looking for the horizon beyond. In the words of the late Mr. Gladstone, he "was inspired with the belief that life was a great and noble calling; not a mean and grovelling thing that we are to shuffle through as we can, but an elevated and lofty destiny." * * * * * But we must not be tempted into further disquisition. As he grew older the public Press as well as his friends celebrated his birthdays. Congratulations by telegram and letter poured in upon him and gave him great pleasure. Minor poets sang special solos, or joined in the chorus. One example may be quoted: ALFRED RUSSEL WALLACE 8TH JANUARY, 1911 A little cot back'd by a wood-fring'd height, Where sylvan Usk runs swiftly babbling by: Here thy young eyes first look'd on earth and sky, And all the wonders of the day and night; O born interpreter of Nature's might, Lord of the quiet heart and seeing eye, Vast is our debt to thee we'll ne'er deny, Though some may own it in their own despite. Now after fourscore teeming years and seven, Our hearts are jocund that we have thee still A refuge in this world of good and ill, When evil triumphs and our souls are riv'n; A friend to all the friendless under heav'n; A foe to fraud and all the lusts that kill.