fell lovingly over the collar of his coat. His face was of well-rounded
contour, with a large, expressive mouth, and features indicative of
great character and decision. His eyes were the feature of his face, par
excellence. They were of a beautiful bright brown, full of tenderness,
of meaning and earnestness--a liquid brown eye, that would moisten with
tears of emotion as thoughts of his Creator came rushing to mind, while
he traced His footsteps in the sciences he studied. His eyes mirrored
his soul. I think there was never but one pair of eyes such as Professor
Louis Agassiz's.']

Agassiz spoke French with a slight drawl characteristic of the section
of Switzerland in which he was born. When he came to America in 1846,
he rapidly acquired a command of English, and he eventually wrote and
spoke the language with great facility, though his speech never ceased
to betray his foreign origin. [Footnote: See Clara Conant Gilson, in
the article just cited: He had a few striking peculiarities of
pronunciation, one or two of which cling to me with great pertinacity
even now. One, in particular, is fresh in my memory. For example, the
words respiratory and perspiratory he would accent on the third
syllable--_rat_; and, bless me, if to this day I don't have to
think twice before I am sure which is right! This shows what indelible
impressions his words left upon his pupils.]

With his superabundant physical, mental, and emotional energy, he was
a natural orator; he was fond of an audience, and gratified by
applause. No one ever possessed a greater talent for making natural
science popular; even when his discourse became highly technical, his
auditors hung upon his words. His method of exposition was very clear
and simple. He studiously avoided the error of dragging the listener
through all the processes by which the speaker has arrived at a