"empyreumatic" or "botryoidal."
Some words in constant use he rarely explained. Iremember once
sticking up my hand and asking him in the full flow of description,
"Please, sir, what is flocculent?"
"The precipitate is."
"Yes, sir, but what does it mean?"
"Oh! flocculent! " said my father, "flocculent! Why-" he extended
his hand and arm and twiddled his fingers for a second in the air.
"Like that," he said.
Ithought the explanation sufficient, but he paused for a moment
after giving it. "As in a flock bed, youknow," he added and
resumed his discourse.
3
My father,Iam afraid, carried a natural incompetence in practical
affairs to an exceptionally high level. He combined practical
incompetence, practical enterprise and a thoroughly sanguine
temperament, in a manner that I have neverseen paralleled in any
humanbeing. He was always trying to do new things in the briskest
manner, under the suggestion of books or papers or his own
spontaneous imagination, and as he had never been trained to do
anything whatever in his life properly, his futilities were
extensive and thorough. At one time he nearly gave up his classes
for intensive culture, so enamoured was he of its possibilities; the
peculiar pungency of the manure he got, in pursuit of a chemical
theory of his own, has scarred my olfactorymemories for a lifetime.
The intensive culture phase is very clear in mymemory; it came near
the end of his career and when I was between eleven and twelve. I
was mobilised to gather caterpillars on several occasions, and
assisted in nocturnal raids upon the slugs by lantern-light that
wrecked my preparation work for school next day. My father dug up
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