pile million upon useless million.

He had something else to fight against: bad health. He writes: "I
was a sickly, delicate boy, suffered much from asthma, and
frequently had to be taken away on trips to find a place where I
could breathe. One of my memories is of my father walking up and
down the room with me in his arms at night, when I was a very
small person, and of sitting up in bed gasping, with my father and
mother trying to help me. I went very little to school. I never
went to the public schools, as my own children later did."
[Footnote: "Autobiography."] For a few months he went to a private
school, his aunt taught him at home, and he had tutors there.

When he was ten his parents took him with his brother and sisters
for a trip to Europe, where he had a bad time indeed. Like most
boys, he cared nothing for picture-galleries and the famous
sights, he was homesick and he wished to get back to what really
pleased him,--that is, collecting animals. He was already
interested in that. And only when he could go to a museum and see,
as he wrote in his diary, "birds and skeletons" or go "for a
spree" with his sister and buy two shillings worth of rock-candy,
did he enjoy himself in Europe.

His sister knew what he thought about the things one is supposed
to see in Europe, and in her diary set it down:

"I am so glad Mama has let me stay in the butiful hotel parlor
while the poor boys have been dragged off to the orful picture
galary."