We look to you and to such as yourself, placed at well-furnished botanical centres, to do your share of conscientious work and to support right doctrines. So I may proceed to say that, upon the recognized principles since the adoption of the Candollian code, your name of Conioselinum bipinnatum, even if founded in fact, would be inadmissible and superfluous. By a corollary of the rule that priority of publication fixes the name, taken along with the fact a plant-name is of two parts, generic and specific, it follows that in any case, Conioselinum Canadense is the prior name for those who hold to the genus Conioselinum. I have laid down what I take to be the correct view as to this, in my “Structural Botany,” paragraph 794, where it is supported by the high authority of Bentham. I believe it is more and more acceded to by the most competent judges. There are those who make transpositions of divorced halves of plants name, and who, also make the law of priority mechanically override other equally valid laws, without regard to sense. To such the old law maxim of the elder De Candolle was applied; _summum jus, summa injuria_. If you like to adopt their ideas, you have at hand a still older, the very oldest, name, namely, Conioselinum Chinense, for I can certify that the plant we are concerned with is Athamantha Chinensis of Linnæus. Very truly yours, ASA GRAY. The next morning he seemed bright and well, but on going down to breakfast there came a slight shock in the right arm, which seemed, however, to pass off after he had rested. He managed to put up, for two friends in England, copies of his “Review of the Life of Darwin,” in the “Nation,” penciling the address so that it could be read. But a more severe shock returned in the early afternoon, and for a few moments a loss of articulation. That disappeared and the physician looked hopefully at the case, though recommending extreme quiet for mind and body. By Wednesday evening he seemed greatly improved, but the next morning the power of connected speech had gone. He could repeat words spoken to him, and could sometimes, apparently with long striving, connect the wish and the words, but for the most part he had lost the power of using the word he wanted, and could only express himself with signs, and his “eloquent left hand;” for the paralysis gradually increased until the whole right side was helpless. He lingered patiently in much weakness and at times suffering, until the 30th of January, 1888, when he gradually sank and quietly passed away at half-past seven in the evening. Dr. Gray was buried in Mount Auburn, February 2, where a simple stone, bearing a cross, marks his grave, with his name and the dates 1810-1888. APPENDIX. A. DR. GRAY’S WILL.