There is nothing romantic in his career, nor could we seek any element of the kind in a man of Gegenbaur’s character. But his young and undecided companion seemed to catch sight of a new ideal as he spoke. He would complete his medical studies, and then shake himself free of surgery and hospital. He would take his microscope down South, where the snowy summit of Etna towered above the orange-trees, and study the beautiful marine animals by the azure sea and the white houses, in the orange-laden air, and drink in ideas at the magic fount of these wonderful animal forms, and live out the lusty, golden years of youth on the finest coast in Europe. From that moment Haeckel felt a restless inspiration. He had no idea what it was that he was going to investigate at Messina; and he certainly did not know when and how he was to get there. But he continued his medical studies with a vague hope that it was only preliminary work; that some day he would do what his friend Gegenbaur had done. They were very good friends, these two. They were drawn together by the strong magnetism of two true natures that understood each other to the golden core, though in other respects they were as different as possible. Gegenbaur was no enthusiast. His ideal was “to keep cool to the very heart.” But he was at one with Haeckel in a feeling for a broad outlook in scientific research. He never shrank from large connections or vast deductions, as long as they were led up to by a sober and patient logic. This logical character he afterwards recognised in Darwin’s idea of evolution, and so the friends once more found themselves in agreement, and for a long time they were a pair of real Darwinian Dioscuri. This feeling for moderation and at the same time for far-reaching logic was combined in Gegenbaur with a certain steady and unerring independence of character. He made little noise, but he never swerved from his aim. What he accomplished with all these qualities, in many other provinces besides Darwinism, cannot be told here. It may be read in the history of zoology. He had, as far as such a thing was possible, a restful influence of the most useful character on Haeckel. If we imagine what Darwinism would have become in the nineteenth century in the hands of such men as Gegenbaur, without Haeckel, we can appreciate the difference in temperament between the two men. With Gegenbaur evolution was always a splendid new technical instrument that no layman must touch for fear of spoiling it. With Haeckel it became a devouring wave, that will one day, perhaps, give its name to the century. In other natures these differences might have led to open conflict. But Haeckel and Gegenbaur show us that, like so many of our supposed “differences,” they can at least live together in perfect accord in the freshest years of life, each bearing fruit in its kind. * * * * *