George John Romanes


ANOTHER of our not too numerous band of English biological investigators has been taken from us in the prime of life. The list is a heart-rending one, and its full share of sadness surrounds the fate of this last dear friend and companion. Garrod, Frank Balfour, Moseley, Herbert Carpenter, Milnes Marshall-all were younger at death than Romanes, and he only reached the age of forty-six just three days before he died. For some two years his friends have watched with anguish the progress of the disease—a condition of the arteries resulting in apoplexy—which has now ended his pain. Marvellous was the activity of mind and the eagerness with which he pursued his favourite discussions even to the day of his death. Nothing, perhaps, more touching was ever witnessed by those who knew and loved his kindly earnest nature than the calm conviction with which he realised that the hand of Death was laid on him, the pathetic smile with which he would say, as he puffed his cigarette, “Of course my life is only hanging by a thread, and I shall never be able to finish the experiments which would, I think, convince you.”

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