consequently a great supply, there will from time to time start up a
master spirit, such as that of my lamented friend, the late Captain
Henry Foster, to claim, even in the very outset of his career, the
cheerful homage of all the rest. So far from the profession envying
his early success, or being disturbed at his pre-eminent renown, they
felt that his well-earned honours only shed lustre on themselves.

It is also very pleasing to observe the reciprocal feeling which
belongs on such occasions to all rightly constituted minds. When
Captain Foster, in 1828, then only lieutenant, received the Copley
medal, the highest scientific honour in the gift of the Royal Society,
it never occurred to him merely to hang it at his breast in solitary
dignity, or to chuckle presumptuously at his own particular good
fortune. So far from this, he thought only of the service; and
proceeding straight to the Admiralty, he showed the medal, and
declared modestly, but firmly, to their lordships, that he considered
the honour only nominally bestowed upon himself, but essentially
conferred upon the naval profession at large. This generous and manly
appeal could not fail to make its due impression; and within the same
hour, his commission, as commander, was signed, his appointment to a
ship ordered, and a voyage of scientific research carved out for him.
But I need not add how bitter a grief it is to those who were
personally acquainted with this rising young officer, to think that so
much knowledge--such useful talents--such unmatched zeal and
industry--and such true love for science--all so fertile in promises
of future service and renown--should have been lamentably quenched in
a moment.

Besides the regular-built sailors, and the saltwater statesmen and
philosophers, there is yet another set which greatly outnumbers both,