A legend among scientists has it that the controversial naturalist Rafinesque once named a freshwater "trivalve" based on a sketch by Audubon. What are the facts of this sorry tale? Did it really happen? I can answer only part of these questions. Here is the first part, as told by Audubon himself in his "Ornithological Biography", and quoted in "The Life and Writings of Constantine Samuel Rafinesque," by Richard Ellsworth Call (1895, Louisville, Kentucky, John P. Morton and Company). Audubon disguised Rafinesque's name as "M. de T.", and the events described took place in Henderson (Hendersonville), Kentucky in 1818: "When it waxed late, I showed him to the apartment intended for him during his stay, and endeavored to render him comfortable, leaving him writing materials in abundance. I was, indeed, heartily glad to have a naturalist under my roof. We had all retired to rest. Every person I imagined was in deep slumber, save myself, when of a sudden I heard a great uproar in the naturalist's room. I got up, reached the place in a few moments, and opened the door, when, to my astonishment, I saw my guest running about the room naked, holding the handle of my favorite violin, the body of which he had battered to pieces against the walls in attempting to kill the bats, which had entered by the open window, probably attracted by the insects flying around his candle. I stood amazed, but he continued running around and around, until he was fairly exhausted; when he begged me to procure one of the animals for him, as he felt convinced they belonged to a 'new species'. Although I was convinced to the contrary, I took up the bow of my demolished Cremona, and administering a smart tap to each of the bats as it came up, soon got specimens enough. "M. de T. remained with us for three weeks and collected multitudes of plants, shells, bats, and fishes... We were perfectly reconciled to his oddities, and finding him a most agreeable and intelligent companion, hoped that his sojourn might be of long duration. But one evening, when tea was prepared, and we expected him to join the family, he was nowhere to be found. The night was spent in searching for him in the neighborhood. No eccentric naturalist could be discovered. Whether he had perished in a swamp, or had been devoured by a bear or gar-fish, or had taken to his heels, were matters of conjecture; nor was it until some weeks after, that a letter from him, thanking us for our attention, assured me of his safety." Rafinesque's biographer, R. E. Call, read malice between the lines of this account, and strongly disapproved of Audubon's behavior, which was indeed reprehensible. But I would like to point out that after an uninvited visit of three weeks, Rafinesque ended up with bundles of new species, possibly including a new bat, and Audubon had a broken violin and not even a goodbye. He may well have felt that his prank evened the score. But Call saw it in a darker light: "Audubon played on the credulity of his guest, who had implicit confidence in him as a brother naturalist. The host simply lied to Rafinesque, and seeing him eagerly accept the proffered bait still further abused his confidence and did a most unmanly act, one which has caused great annoyance and loss of time to succeeding naturalists. Audubon drew figures of some impossible fish, giving them gaudy coloration and glowing descriptions, and supplied Rafinesque with what purported to be notes of fact; all of these Rafinesque duly copied into his own note-book. Furthermore, the host described to his guest impossible limpet-like shells, said to live in the Ohio, and these were likewise carefully noted. Later, Rafinesque used these so-called facts as the bases of new genera and species; then Audubon employed the data known only to himself to make Rafinesque ridiculous." That "Monsieur de T." was a pseudonym for C. S. Rafinesque became widely known only when David Starr Jordan published the fact in 1886 (Popular Science Monthly, v. 29, p. 212-221). Audubon told Dr. Bachman, who told Dr. Kirtland, who told Dr. Jordan, in a sort of game of "Whisper". Jordan also reported that Rafinesque named 12 species of lightning, but Call denied this indignantly in his bibliography. Rafinesque did describe 12 kinds of lightning, but not as formal species. He was, however, a monomaniacal wonder when it came to naming new taxa, so this calumny was believed and is still repeated as a legend among scientists. So much for Part One. Part Two would consist of quotations from Rafinesque's paper on the trivalve, if I could find it. I even have a bibliography of more than 200 works by Rafinesque at my command. Unfortunately, the originals are excessively rare, and the bibliography contains no annotations referring to trivalves. All is not lost, however. If someone on this List could please look up "The complete writings of Constantine Schmaltz Rafinesque on Recent and Fossil Conchology", we might be able to make some progress. The book was edited by W. G. Binney and G. W. Tryon, Jr. (Academy of Natural Sciences of Philadelphia, New York, 1864), and I do not have access to a copy. I really hate to leave you all wondering. Can anyone out there supply me with a photocopy of the original trivalve article? Andrew K. Rindsberg Geological Survey of Alabama Tuscaloosa, Alabama, USA