64 
MEMORIES OF MY LIFE 
and that was its pretty, rustic hotel. The times of 
travel from London so fitted in, that the walk from 
Ryde about Easier time began well before twilight, 
and we reached .Shatiklin not too late to be taken 
in and to thoroughly enjoy the moonlit evening. 
Strickland was a strong swimmer, but he got into 
some difficulty next morning owing to the surf and 
undercurrents at the place where he entered the sea. 
He returned safely to shore, to my great relief, but 
much tired from long battling with the water. 
His end was tragic. It occurred in North America, 
when winter had just set in, near some well-known 
watering-place whose name I forget, separated by a 
low range of hills from another watering place about 
sixteen miles off. The road between the two was per¬ 
fectly simple and easy in summer, but not so in the 
snowdrifts and darkness of winter. Strickland would 
attempt it, though much was said to dissuade him : 
he never reached his destination. A relief party 
tracked his wanderings. He seemed to have acted 
as one demented by the hardship, for he had stripped 
off his clothes and thrown them away, one after the 
other, even his boots, so that his dead body was 
almost wholly undressed. That was the story I 
heard from two persons. 
On returning to Cambridge after the first long 
vacation, I was put steadily to mathematical work, 
coming at length under that most distinguished 
Cambridge tutor, William Hopkins (1793-1866), 
mathematician and geologist. He kindly took a 
good deal of interest in me and gave me much 
encouragement, but the hopes he fostered were 
shattered by serious illness, which precluded severe