Cuvier was so downright that he did not like any one who indulged in satire, or who ridiculed the conduct of others. He never did this sort of thing, and he carefully discouraged it in those about him, even when embellished with sallies of wit and drollery, and his rebukes to those who indulged in sarcasm were accompanied by a sharpness of expression generally very unusual to him. He bore but little malice, and it is said that the annoyances and disappointments of his public career left no trace of bitterness of spirit; and he was always willing to lay the fault on the ignorance rather than on the bad feeling of the offenders. When in the full swing of his career, Cuvier gave very interesting _soirées_ on Saturday evenings, and it is said that they were the most brilliant and interesting meetings of their kind in Paris. They were much frequented by the scientific world of the time, and the rooms were as much open to the prince as to the last young student who had just begun to study natural history. In this society Cuvier was an amusing conversationalist, a great asker of questions; and as he could talk well on a variety of subjects, he made his guests at home, and gave the meetings a character for freedom of expression of opinion. A light repast concluded the evening, and a select few remained to partake of it. The chat was amusing, curiosities were shown about, and the last anecdotes about nature and the newest ideas were shown and considered, and, reserving himself to the last, Cuvier would relate something that crowned the whole; and all around were struck by the occasional complete change given to the train of thought, or were forced to join in a general shout of laughter. The period of these brilliant _soirées_ was that of the prime of the lovely daughter who was so fondly loved by Cuvier. A perfect lady, of great grace and goodness, was Clementine Cuvier. She was a highly-gifted girl, and her resemblance to her father was remarkable. She had a delicate constitution, and gradually faded away, dying of rapid consumption at last amidst the joyful preparations for her marriage. A great change then took place in Cuvier, who mourned his daughter greatly. Society was given up for a long time, and when the evening meetings were resumed, the life of them seemed to be gone, and the dejection of Madame Cuvier added to the feeling. After the death of his own daughter, Cuvier became more than ever attached to his step-daughter, and his care and anxiety on her account manifested itself on all occasions. If she were ill he would be up and down stairs over and over again, and worried himself about even the most trivial symptoms. Although so greatly occupied and so often absorbed in scientific pursuits, he never neglected the opportunity of doing good in his way. His private charities were large and well bestowed. His purse was ever open to the needy and unfortunate of all countries and stations, and the miserable