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told in reply that the reports to the effect were too unsatisfactory to be presented as facts in science. This remark led me on my return to examine the subject myself, and I have since unearthed no fewer than thirty distinct species of the horse tribe; and it is now, I think, generally admitted that America is, after all, the original home of the horse."

Exposed the Cardiff Giant.
It was Professor Marsh who exposed the famous Cardiff giant. In October, 1869, a farmer named Newell, living near Cardiff, N. Y., twelve miles south of Syracuse, was digging a well when he unexpectedly unearthed a stone giant ten feet long with a body, head and limbs in perfect proportion. It was at once proclaimed as the remains of a prehistoric man, and numbers of scientists made pilgrimages of examination and recorded their belief in its very great value as a scientific discovery. Even the State geologist of New York became greatly interested in the giant and endeavored to have it sent to the state Museum at Albany. But it was finally placed on exhibition at Syracuse, where it soon became an attraction almost equal to a circus.

Special trains were run from the surrounding country to accommodate the people who wished to see it, and its owners are said to have refused an offer of $300,000 in cash for it, although they subsequently parted with a quarter share. So important did the relic become in the eyes of the scientific world that Professor Marsh visited Syracuse and made an examination of the giant. The next day he wrote to a friend:

"It is of very recent origin, and a most decided humbug."

He found that the figure had been cut from a block of gypsum, similar to that found in many parts of New York, and a close inspection revealed the presence of human workmanship.

"As gypsum is soluble in about 400 parts of water," he wrote, "a very short exposure would suffice to obliterate all traces of tool marks and also to roughen the surfaces."

[[cut off by top edge of clipping]] prehistoric lake and left his footprints on the sands of time.

Professor Marsh was also fond of telling of an encyclopedia article which was commended to his attention. The writer, wishing to give modern man a graphic idea of the appearance of his remote ancestors, had made a restoration of an extinct animal in flesh and blood, but unfortunately he had placed the head on the end of the tail.

Marsh, the Man.
Personally, Professor Marsh wore few of the conventional airs of the scientist. He was a rugged-shouldered, firmly built man, a little under medium height, with white hair and a full white beard, a high forehead rising above a pair of engaging blue eyes. You met him with a golfing cap pulled down comfortably over his head, a long, black coat hanging loosely from his shoulders, and a bit of color in his neckcloth. He moved with a certain nervous energy that bespoke his active mind, and upon the first provocation he told you a story—and a very good one, too.

Professor Marsh never married.

"I have been too busy with my work," he said.

In such honors as fall to men who have won distinction in science Professor Marsh had an unusual share. For seventeen years he was president of the National Academy of Sciences, perhaps the foremost scientific society in America, and president of the American Association for the Advancement of Science. In 1877 he received the first of the Bigsby medals from the Geological Society of London, and last year the Institute of France, by presenting him with the Cuvier prize, conferred upon him the greatest honor that can fall to a scientist. The Cuvier prize is awarded every three years "for the most remarkable work either on the animal kingdom or on geology." Only two other Americans have received this distinction—Agassiz and Leidy, the paleontologist.

RAY STANNARD BAKER

Transcription Notes:
Complete article here: http://cdnc.ucr.edu/cgi-bin/cdnc?a=d&d=SFC18990409.2.209.15#