By the year 1858 Edward had accumulated another splendid collection. It was his third, and probably his best. The preserved birds were in splendid order. Most of them were in their natural condition—flying, or fluttering, pecking or feeding,—with their nests, their eggs, and sometimes their young. He had also a large collection of insects—including many rare beetles,—together with numerous Fishes, Crustaceans, Zoophytes, Molluscs, Fossils, and Plants.

COLD AND WHISKY.

Although Edward still continued his midnight explorations, he felt that he must soon give them up. Lying out at night cannot be long endured in this country. It is not the cold, so much as the damp, that rheumatises the muscles and chills the bones. When going out at night, Edward was often advised to take whisky with him. He was told that if he would drink it when he got wet or cold, it would refresh and sustain him, and otherwise do him a great deal of good. Those who knew of his night-wanderings, wondered how he could ever have endured the night air and been kept alive without the liberal use of whisky. But Edward always refused. He never took a drop of whisky with him,—indeed, he never drank it either at home or abroad. “I believe,” he says, “that if I had indulged in drink, or even had I used it at all on these occasions, I could never have stood the cold, the wet, and the other privations to which I was exposed. As for my food, it mainly consisted of good oatmeal cakes. It tasted very sweet, and was washed down with water from the nearest spring. Sometimes, when I could afford it, my wife boiled an egg or two, and these were my only luxuries. But, as I have already said, water was my only drink.”

EDWARD’S HEALTH FAILS.

In 1858, Edward had reached his forty-fourth year. At this age, men who have been kindly reared and fairly fed, are usually in their prime, both of mind and body. But Edward had used himself very hardly; he had spent so many of his nights out of doors, in the cold and the wet; he had been so tumbled about amongst the rocks; he had so often, with all his labours, to endure privation, even to the extent of want of oatmeal,—that it is scarcely to be wondered at if, at that time, his constitution should have begun to show marks of decay. He had been frequently laid up by colds and rheumatism. Yet, when able to go out again, he usually returned to his old courses.

At last his health gave way altogether. He was compelled to indulge in the luxury of a doctor. The doctor was called in, and found Edward in a rheumatic fever, with an ulcerated sore throat. There he lay, poor man, his mind wandering about his birds. He lay for a month. He got over his fever, but he recovered his health slowly. The doctor had a serious talk with him. Edward was warned against returning to his old habits. He was told that although his constitution had originally been sound and healthy, it had, by constant exertion and exposure to cold and wet, become impaired to a much greater degree than had at first been supposed. Edward was also distinctly informed that if he did not at once desist from his nightly wanderings, his life would not be worth a farthing. Here, it appeared, was to be the end of his labours in Natural History.

SELLS HIS COLLECTION.

Next came the question of family expenditure and doctor’s bills. Edward had been ill for a month, and the debts incurred during that time must necessarily be paid. There was his only Savings Bank—his collection of birds—to meet the difficulty. He was forced to draw upon it again. Accordingly, part of it was sold. Upwards of forty cases of birds went, together with three hundred specimens of mosses and marine plants, with other objects not contained in cases. When these were sold, Edward lost all hopes of ever being able again to replenish his shattered collection.

Although Edward’s strength had for the most part been exhausted, his perseverance was not. We shall next find him resorting to another branch of Natural History, in which he gathered his most distinguished laurels.