laying bare her ancient secrets. Nothing seemed to give him so much pleasure as to spend hours over his chemical apparatus, pursuing with tireless enthusiasm the delusive phantoms that were continually rising before him. Days and nights were spent in an eager search for some possible result, which though often escaping, and beckoning him on with aggravating coyness, was generally captured at last. Into this fascinating pursuit Barnard entered with all the ardor of his nature, and led by his fervid imagination, though still guided by accurate scientific knowledge, he managed to amass a sum of results which would have given him considerable fame had they been published to the world. But he declared that he was a mere dabbler in science, and would wait until he had accomplished some great thing before he troubled the scientific world with his childish experiments, which were leading to something better.
It must not be supposed, however, that Barnard spent all his time in the more congenial pursuit of chemical science to the neglect of his chosen profession. To this day there are not a few who were then citizens of Sacramento, who will attest to the untiring patience, close attention and skill which characterized Dr. Barnard during those early years of his life in California, when such rare tact and loving warmth as his were sure to bring hope, if not healing, to the sick-beds of those who were so fortunate as to know him. His range of practice grew to be very wide, and from far and near he was called to minister to the sick and suffering. The times were golden, and Barnard made a great deal of money by his ardent devotion to his practice. In a few years, although he was indifferent to wealth and was generous to the needy and suffering poor, he grew rich and prosperous in his fortunes.
I see him now, at this stage of his career—full-figured, rotund yet shapely,
bubbling over with animal spirits, vigor+ ous with health, in high good humor with himself and the world, winning to his side all the genuine men of the time, and drawing after him loving and admiring looks as he walked abroad with his elastic, springy step. Then I remember the dreamy veil that seemed to shut down at times over his clear blue eye, and the queer abstraction that interrupted the ripple of his bright talk, and I ask myself if this was a premonition of his fate, like that vague, far-off look that old philosophers say belongs to those who are destined to die by violence.
Of his wife I have not said much, because there is not much to say about her. She was one of those shadowy persons, hard to understand, with abundant positiveness as to being, but in character altogether negative. She loved her husband well and truly, and considered him the sum of all human wisdom and goodness. Thoroughly practical, she gloried in his pecuniary success, and only seemed to regret that his own skill had secured for them competence and substantial comfort before the dowry which she brought him had been exhausted. She shared in all the enthusiasm with which Barnard pursued his experiments in science, though she honestly declared that she did not understand them any more than she did the Sanscrit.
As his medical practice increased, and calls on his time grew more frequent, Barnard complained good-humoredly that he had too much professional business to allow himself as much leisure for scientific diversion as his craving passion required. His pecuniary circumstances, however, being easy, I think he grew a little careless about his business, and employed a good deal of time with his visionary schemes and mysterious chemical processes. His wife looked on with simple wonder, but asked no questions and made no inju
