inhabitants of the dens of Paris and the modest student struggling under adversity were alike the recipients of his bounty. Many hotels in the neighbourhood of the colleges and institutions had students in them, living in the top stories, who were so poor that they had to subscribe to get a book or two between them. They would occasionally be surprised by a visit from their great teacher. He came to offer, with the greatest courtesy, the assistance he knew they required; and if they were ill he did not rest satisfied until he had obtained advice and nourishment for them. Himself keenly alive to the slightest rudeness or neglect, and grateful for the smallest proof of affection, he knew how to give, not only with a liberal hand, but with a delicacy which never wounded the most sensitive temper. The year 1832 was a melancholy one for Paris; for political disturbances and cholera prevailed. The disease raged around Cuvier’s neighbourhood, and he saw many cut off from it in the midst of their youth and strength. At this time he gave up his evening visits and the few relaxations he permitted himself to enjoy. Secluding himself from society, except that of his own family, he had no sooner performed his daily routine of public duties than he returned to his studies with a zeal and closeness of application that was doubtless injurious to his health, though he himself said that he had never worked with such enjoyment. On Tuesday, May 8th, he opened the third and concluding part of his course of lectures at the College of France on the history of science, and it was his last discourse. Strangely enough, it was as if it were to be his last, so impressive, so grandly comprehensive, was the diction; and he treated the subject in a manner which proved that he had been thinking much about the mysterious and supernatural environment which most men of great experience can recognize in nature. Cuvier in this lecture dealt with the meaning of the changes which had occurred on the surface of the earth in relation to the succession of animals and plants on the globe and the present creation. He stated the manner in which he proposed to view the present in relation to the past, a task which was to lead his hearers, independently of narrow systems, back to that supreme intelligence which rules, enlightens, and vivifies, and which gives to every creature the especial conditions of its existence. He noticed how each being contains in itself an infinite variety, an admirable arrangement for the purposes for which it was intended: that each being is good, perfect, and capable of life, according to its order and species, and in its individuality. He concluded by saying, “These will be the objects of our future investigations, if time, health, and strength are given to me to continue and to finish them with you.” The lecture hall was slowly left by Cuvier’s hearers and students, and an undefined sadness seemed to weigh upon his late hearers, who seemed to