Memphis Daily Appeal

A MARTYR TO SCIENCE.
Brief Story of the Life of Robert Kennicott.

The following interesting story of the life and death of a remarkable young man I wonder, did you ever hear of Robert Kennicott? Some one told me the brief story of his life, the other day, and it is well worth repeating, though I can give you but the merest skeleton of a sketch. He was the son of the well-known editor of The Prairie Farmer, and a resident of Chicago In his boyhood he manifested an engrossing love of natural history, gave his whole mind to its study, and a very powerful and brilliant mind it was. I am not well posted in the dates of this subject, but I think he had passed but little beyond his majority, say in '60 or '61, when he set out on an exploring expedition through the wilds of the Northampton country. He ascended the Missouri river to its source, traveling alone through regions where a white foot had scarcely if ever trodden, thoroughly explored the Russian and British possessions in the northwest, and carried on a campaign, of investigation against beasts, birds, reptiles and insects. He visited Sitka, then a Russian post and remained there for some time. He inoculated the Russian officers there stationed, many of whom were men of high culture, with his passion for natural history, and taught them to pursue the studies which alone he found happiness. His experiences almost rival those of Munchausen in dangers and difficulties. No peril daunted him: no obstacle discouraged him. Once, far in the wilderness, he found himself destitute of the pins with which bugs and "sich" are impaled, and without a moment's hesitation he set out and made a journey of five hundred miles through the snowy solitudes of Sitka to replenish his stock. During one of his visits to this place, I think in 1863, he heard of the war of the rebellion. Instantly he started overland for the East, made his way to the army in Virginia, associated himself with the Sanitary Commission, and labored faithfully in the cause of humanity till Lee's surrender. Without a moment's delay, after that event, he turned his steps again to the northwest and buried himself in the wilderness. A little more than a year ago some travelers in that bleak region came upon the figure of a man sitting, compass in hand, before a map of the scene of his recent explorations, which he had drawn with a stick upon the snow, dead. It was young Kennicott, who had died as he had lived, alone. His short life was not without fruits, however. He had established an intimate connection with the officers of the Smithsonian Institute, who were filled with wondering admiration of his energy and love of science. His contributions to the cabinet of that institution were of incalculable value and his good deeds live after him in the acts of others whom he taught to love science. Not long ago—before the Alaska purchase, however—Prof. Baird, of the Smithsonian, received a string of birds from a Russian officer stationed at Sitka—a gentleman whom Kennicott had inspired with his own zeal in the study of natural history—which the professor affirmed no European museum could duplicate. Prof. Baird has been solicited to write a biography of Kennicott, and a review of his travels in Alaska; but he declines the task, pleading want of time, and suggests that Dr. Simpson, of Chicago, should undertake the work.