to watch the face of the first person who examined it. He amused himself, one Sunday evening, on another occasion, in making herring roe out of tapioca-pudding and whisky, to puzzle the witnesses whom he was to examine on the Monday; and he raised a laugh on a third occasion by telling a witness, who said he was a shoemaker, that, to judge from the appearance of the children's feet, he should think he had a very poor trade. Throughout his journeys, specimens of every kind, living, dying, and dead, were thrown into his bag, possibly to keep company with his boots or his clothes. The odor of the bag usually increased with the length of the inspection, and on one occasion, when it was exceptionally offensive, he said to the boots of a very smart hotel, "I think you had better put this bag into the cellar, as I should not be at all surprised if it smelt by to-morrow morning."
The love of fun and laughter, which was perceptible while he was transacting the dullest business, distinguished him equally as a writer. It was his object, so he himself thought, to make natural history practical; but it was his real mission to make natural history and fish culture popular. He popularized everything that he touched; he hated the scientific terms which other naturalists employed, and invariably used the simplest language for describing his meaning. His writings were unequal: some of them are not marked by any exceptional qualities. But others of them, such as the best parts of the "Curiosities of Natural History," and "The Royal Academy without a Catalogue," are admirable examples of good English, keen critical observation, and rich humor. His best things, he used to say himself, were written on the box of an omnibus or in a railway-carriage. "The Royal Academy without a Catalogue" was written between London and Crewe, and posted at the latter station. He had originally acquired the art of writing in a railway-train from the late Bishop of Oxford. He practiced it with as much zeal as the Bishop did, and with as good effect. The more labored compositions which Mr. Buckland undertook did not always contain equal traits of happy humor. He was at his best when he took the least pains, and a collection of his very best pieces would deserve a permanent place in any collection of English essays.
Desultory work of this character made Mr. Buckland's name a household word throughout the country. His articles were copied and recopied into various newspapers, and obtained, in this way, hundreds of thousands of readers. But, at the same time, this desultory work necessarily prevented him from accomplishing any literary task of first-rate excellence. Some of his personal popularity was thus purchased at the cost of his future reputation; and a mass of knowledge has died with him which might otherwise have been preserved. It is no exaggeration to say that he had collected during his busy life a vast store of information. He had trained himself to observe, and his
