In September 1874, he entered Marlborough College, his memories of which were to remain amongst his happiest, as revealed by a letter written to the College in his latter years His house was C1, part of the old building once the mansion of the Seymour family and later the famous Castle Inn. He remained there for seven terms, leaving in December, 1876 During six of these terms he received promotion and finished in the Lower V.

We should note that he was a member of the College Natural History Society, which was the first of its kind in any school and flourished under the Rev. T. A. Preston—it continues to flourish. The activities of the Society were wide. In spite of the fact that Sir William disclaimed having been influenced by any of his teachers in any way in his choice of what was ultimately to become his life work, and though there is no record of his having done anything to have his name mentioned in the proceedings of the College Society, it is quite reasonable to believe (very young though he was) that the beginning of his zoological bent had its roots somewhere in that Society, which was of high standard and still is; because later, when the opportunity came and after he had felt his way about, he succumbed to the zoological spell readily enough.

At Marlborough he took classics, as well as chemistry and physics, under Mr. Rodwell (the only science taught), “not for any interest”. he averred, “but because thereby I escaped having to do Latin verse! As at that time I intended to enter the Indian Civil Service as an engineer. I took various extra subjects, such as mechanical drawing. German, etc.”, and “was well grounded in Latin and Greek, ignorant of History, English Literature and Grammar, with a smattering of French Grammar and elementary Mathematics”: he won no scholarship at any time in his career.

His training in drawing is reflected by the clearly detailed (often artistic) illustrations in his publications; he always stressed the value of what he called “good pictures”; he would carefully ink in a line, and then, aided with a lens, go over it and fill in the irregularities with a fine pen. His knowledge of Latin, Greek and German became invaluable to him and his students in later years. His confessed ignorance of English literature and grammar is not to be taken seriously, or, if it is, then he obviously rectified it. On the other hand, there is possibly some truth in the smattering of elementary mathematics, when one recalls his efforts to balance his petty cash! Nevertheless, his school record. though seemingly commonplace, is what we find often enough in the histories of so many famous people.

On leaving school in 1876, he lived with his family in London whilst being coached for the Indian Civil Service; but this plan was eventually abandoned, and he commenced study to become an analytical chemist at University College, Gower Street; after two or more years, however, this also was abandoned, and he turned to Geology (under Bonney) in its place as a third subject for the B.Sc., but. as there were no laboratory or museum facilities at University College, he transferred to the Imperial College (then the School of Science and Art), where he studied under Judd and Cole. His other subjects were Botany (Scott and Vines) and Zoology under Ray Lankester. whose influence shaped his career. He graduated B.Sc. at London University in 1883.

It was of that period he claimed, “I had found my real interest in Zoology, in which I received much encouragement from Ray Lankester; and after acting as Junior Demonstrator, he appointed me as a senior assistant after A. G. Bourne had been appointed to a Chair of Zoology in a university in India”; that was

in 1886, when he also became Lecturer in Zoology at Bedford College for Women in London, a position he held until 1898, when he left for New Zealand.

So it is that we find Sir William not only launched on his zoological career, but also with the fundamental training in Geology and Botany which enabled him, as Professor of Biology at Otago, to carry on the teaching of Palaeontology until Dr. P. Marshall (Professor of Geology) took over the subject some time about 1907, and of Botany until 1923, when Dr. J. E. Holloway became lecturer in that subject. Though naturally very interested in Palaeontology, Sir William had very little leaning toward Botany beyond what was required for the needs of the curriculum.

Whilst yet a student, Sir William made a study of the male organs (then unknown) of Limulus, living material having been secured from the Westminster Aquarium; the result was his first publication in 1883, inaugurating that long series of outstanding zoological publications which regularly appeared, and which fittingly closed simultaneously with his life by the issue of his last paper in the very month of his death. We would note that, though Sir William usually used his initials “W.B.” we find “W.B.S.” on this first publication, the “S.” representing “Shoppee” after his mother. He sent a copy of his Limulus paper to Sir Richard Owen—that man with the “surgical smile” (Emerson), the sweetness of which reminded Jane Caryle of sugar of lead—whose memoir was the only source of knowledge of the animal at that time.

In 1885 Sir William commenced his life work on the structure of earthworms. upon which he became such a world authority; on his original studies he graduated D. Sc. in 1887. The British Museum provided him with material from all parts of the world, and so quickly did he came to the fore that he was invited to contribute the account on “Polychaet Worms” in the Cambridge Natural History, which remains the only detailed monograph on the subject in the English language, while a little later he contributed, at Lankester's request, to the latter's Treatise on Zoology, part IV, “Platyhelmes, Mesozoa and Nemertinea”. Indeed, so authoritative did his work become, that many of his published drawings of worms and other animals are reproduced in several standard zoological books by English. German and French authors.

After graduating, Lankester advised him to study the field of karyokinesis then being developed by Prof. Wilhelm Fleming at Kiel; this he did for some weeks, “but rather to Lankester's disappointment I did not pursue this work. It did not appeal to me as did that of work on larger material”, a turn of mind which is obvious in the range of subjects dealt with in his publications; I think the smallest was an insect larva, but the largest were certainly whales, about which he became very enthusiastic for a time in his seventies, though he eventually reverted to his worms, apropos which he said, “If one's fickle enough in youth to forsake one's first love, one returns to it in old age—for it will claim you in the end!” Such characteristic humour frequently cropped out, and he appreciated it in others even though he was the object of it—except when derisive; for example, when someone placed an almost spherical quartz pebble in a cage of tuatara lizards which he had under observation in the hope of securing the egg, he was far from pleased; on the other hand, when one of his early students met him after many years and said, “Every time I turn up a worm in the garden I see your face”. he was highly delighted with the rather naif bon-motism.

On April 24, 1899, at St. Paul's Church, Camden Town, he married Beatrice Eadie, daughter of John Eadie, a London merehant. She died in 1909—a great loss to Sir William and to all who had the pleasure of knowing her; she was very considerate and helpful to the younger fry, especially to those making their first appearance before the Otago Institute, when she would restore what remained of their courage.

In 1890 Ray Lankester was appointed to the Chair of Comparative Anatomy at Oxford, and Sir William accompanied him to take up an appointment as Aldrichian Demonstrator in that subject; it was during that period that Sir William took his M.A. in 1897, “by decree of convocation”. In the same year Professor T. J. Parker, of Otago University, died, and Sir William applied for the vacant Chair of Biology and the Curatorship of the Museum; he was supported by eulogistic testimonials from several renowned zoologists, the consensus of opinion being that no worthier successor could be had to follow the distinguished Parker. On March 10, 1898, Cabled advice from London stated that Sir William had been selected; and it is of interest that Prof. G. Vines, one of the appointing commission, drew the attention of the Otago University Council to the wisdom of creating two chairs—Botany and Zoology—not to eventuate, however, until 1951. A letter written by Sir William at that time was legible, presenting none of the difficulties so characteristic in later years when a typewriter was given him, it is said—hopefully (by the University Council, perhaps)—though I am sure all his correspondents were pleased when he discarded the machine in favour of the pen; however, toward the close of his life, his writing tended to revert to the early style.

Sir William sailed for New Zealand by the s. s. Kaikoura on March 31, 1898, being thirty-eight years of age virtually to the day. Prof. J. S. Tennant, who acted during the interregnum, gives the following excellent picture of Sir William on handing over to him in May, 1898: “I found Benham a cheery young man, dapper, frank, and intensely intersted in everything I had to show him. Nothing escaped him, and I felt he could look after himself and manage even the toughest medical student”; and later, “in 1908 I was with him for two weeks on the Auckland Islands, and there he was a general favourite Two of our colleagues were rather pompous know-alls, and Benham delighted to draw them out (often further than they could safely go). On the other hand, he was most kind and helpful to all the younger men.” So there was the man we came to know—indefatigable, genial, energetic, kindly, and yet masterful as the occasion arose; a man of definite views, yet with a tolerance; a compact man (physically and mentally), exhibiting nothing of absent-mindedness—real or false; short of stature and rapid in gait.

He took up his work with zest. In the Museum one of his first acts was to plan for its future development, and using as a foundation the material provided by his distinguished predecesors (Hutton and Parker, respectively), he built up over the years a museum of Comparative Anatomy unrivalled in New Zealand, and considered by competent observers to be comparable with the Oxford Museum of Comparative Anatomy; on the other hand, he be no means neglected the ethnological side. He was a stickler for public order in the Museum and even proposed that a policeman be on duty; in a letter to the University Council he considered that the Janitor (Mr. James Mackenzie) was becoming old and who “in a few years will be too feeble to exert any sort of influence on noisy

youths”—yet that janitor (a feature of the museum) managed quite well until he retired twelve years later of real old age.

Sir William was a fluent and quite informal speaker, whether on the platform or in conversation; he drew upon an orderly mind stored with knowledge as wide as it was deep in understanding; his induction from observed phenomena followed each step to his conclusion: indeed, he always claimed that Logie should have its place in any scientific training—a report, shortly before his death in 1950, on the identity of an earthworm, was an example of precise syllogistic reasoning. He was a great techer, and his lectures were a model; he impressively led his students (in whom he took a personal interest) through the rise of the animal kingdom, the whole plan of creation unfolding His flair for holding the attention of the most irresponsible student (more or less) was doubtless an important influence in the well-known orderliness of his classes; but the greatest influence. I am sure, was the universal respect in which he was held—as a man of integrity and of high standing in the scientifie world, to say nothing of his forcefulness, which sometimes was rendered the more potent by a barbed subtlety not quite obseured under the cloak of courtesy; but if he had caused hurt (and not necessarily unwittingly) he could in many kindly ways make amend so long as he had not to deal with a fool—whom he could suffer neither gladly nor sadly.

Quite apart from his teaching and Museum duties, he led a very full life. He was unremitting in his original researches; and the attached list of his publications (none a pot-boiler) reveals the scope of his interests, while many of them give one an insight into his outlook. When dealing with subjects beyond the scope of his own speciality (earthworms), it was characteristic of him to reveal his modesty and think of others; for example, when examining the viscera of the rare Notornis, he did as little damage as possible, because “I have no special knowledge of bird anatomy” and the specimen might pass “into the possession of a competent ornithologist”; again, he would frankly confess his uncertainty in a field comparatively new to him, as with certain echinids when “a recent discussion as to the proper names of cidarids warns me, an outsider, to beware of rushing in where Baxter, Clark, Mortensen, and others have trodden”; though he would console himself with that, “after all, names are only labels, and need not have any meaning”, but could be of use “for the purpose, at any rate, of reference”, so long as they were accompanied by good descriptions and “pictures”; and when he made a mistake he did not fear to make a handsome admission of it, a trait seen to advantage in what he referred to as “a Confession of Errors”, where “one little error in life, one little sin if you like, leads one into further errors” Frequently, too, his conversational style would creep into his writings to bring to the reader an intimately personal touch, sometimes enhanced by a rather unorthodox title, such as “A couple of abnormalities”

In the administrative affairs of the University he played an influential part. his “wide experience, sound judgement and impartiality of outlook, giving added weight to the opinions he expressed.” He was Chairman of the Professorial Board from 1904–1907. Professorial Representative on the Otago University Council 1914–1930, Dean of the Arts and Science Faculty 1920–1926, and Member of the New Zealand University Senate 1912–1924.

His activities in wider fields were many and varied; from the time of his arrival in New Zealand he took a leading part in the Otago Institute, giving long serive on the Council, and was President and represented the Institute