The exposure of this kind of work is seen by his description of it. "Here is a list of my 'Spawning kit.' First, the waterproof dress; this very useful garment is in fact a diver's dress, and, when properly put on, admits not a drop of water. It has, however, one fault, _it is apt to freeze_ when I am out of the water, and then one feels encased, as it were, in a suit of inflexible armor. Second, the spawning tins.... Third, a long, shallow basket.... Fourth, house-flannel, cut into lengths of one yard; this is absolutely necessary to hold the struggling salmon. Those who are unaccustomed to spawn salmon have an awkward habit of putting their fingers into the gills of the fish, and if the fish's gills are injured and bleed, he suffers much from it. I never to my knowledge killed a fish in my life while spawning it. Fifth, dry towels; these are most necessary, as the slime from the salmon makes one's hands very slippery ... besides which, wiping the hands warms them, and, when working in the water at this time of year, the cold to the hands and arms is fearful.... Eleventh, ordinary baggage, and especially a bottle of scented hair-oil, with which to well anoint the chest and arms and tips of ears, when working in the water; a most excellent and serviceable plan. I took this hint from the Esquimaux." Frank Buckland's last Fishery Report was made in March, 1880, containing an interesting description of the anatomy of the salmon, its food, habits, and the like. Mr. Buckland had brought on lung trouble by constant exposure and tireless energy, and must have foreseen the end. At first it seemed hard to him that he should be taken in the midst of his best work, but he said, "God is so good, so very good to the little fishes, I do not believe he would let their inspector suffer shipwreck at last. I am going a long journey, where I think I shall see a great many curious animals. This journey I must go alone." He had before this written in his diary: "I think it not improbable that, in a future state, the mind will be allowed a greater scope of knowledge, and the gates of omniscience will be thrown open to it, so that those things which it now sees through a glass, darkly, will be opened to the view and understanding. O most glorious reward, for a mind occupied here on earth in investigating the wonderful works of the Creator, from the magnificent and stupendously grand scene of geology, and the theory of the heavens, to the minute and delicate construction of a microscopic animalcule, or the immeasurably fine thread of a plant!" He died December 19, 1880, and was buried in Brompton Cemetery, on Christmas Eve. His last book, "Notes and Jottings from Animal Life," was published soon after his death.