Then, in the middle of the large volume, we find the following passage on page 189. A medusa is given the name of _Mitrocoma Annæ_. The name was given at Villefranche, near Nice, in April, 1864 This medusa had “a fairy-like appearance” to its discoverer; its tentacles hung down “like a mass of blond hair!” A note to the name tells us that it was given “in memory of my dear, never-to-be-forgotten wife, Anna Sethe. If it is given to me to do something during my earthly pilgrimage for science and humanity, I owe it for the most part to the blessed influence of my gifted wife, who was torn from me by a premature end in 1864.” In the _Art-forms in Nature_, Haeckel’s work of 1899, we find a medusa _Desmonema Annasethe_ similarly—after thirty-five years—apostrophised: “The specific name of this pretty disco-medusa, one of the most beautiful and interesting of all the medusaæ, immortalises the memory of Anna Sethe, the gifted and refined wife (born 1835, died 1864) to whom the author of this work owes the happiest years of his life.” If one would fathom the depths of human emotion one must reflect what these words, in such a context, contain; it is the last gentle vibration of a most deep inner experience breaking out into this prosaic, scientific material. A medusa is a trivial, possibly a funny thing, to the layman. The man of science looks deeper into it, and sees a wonderful revelation of nature; the eye of Goethe’s God shines on him from it. But when he has devoted years to the most careful study of it, it assumes also a naïve individual interest for him, as the companion of his solitary hours of observation in the heart of nature, far from all the whirl and bustle of the world. Only the deepest and most intimate feelings break out in such moments. And here they have left their monument—in a Latin name that science will go on coldly entering in its catalogues for ages to come. It seems to me that this simple fact tells us more of the character of this true-hearted man, in whom nothing human was lacking, than long narratives could. * * * * * When the aged Sethe saw the break-up in 1806 of the State of Prussia, in the invulnerability of which he had believed as a gospel, he sought refuge in the comfort of work. “I succeeded in benumbing my mind: I experienced in myself that hard work is a soothing balsam, co-operating with our tardy healing force.” The grandson, wounded in a more terrible way and cut to the very heart, tried the same remedy.