198 A Century of Family Letters [CHAP, xrv 



starting for his walk by my father's stopping to look at 

 experiments in the hot-house. My dog, Polly, mentioned 

 below, was a little rough - haired fox terrier. After her 

 puppies had been made away with, my mother wrote: 

 <l Polly is so odd I might write a volume about her. I 

 think she has taken it into her head that F. is a very big 

 puppy. She is perfectly devoted to him ever since; will 

 only stay with him and leaves the room whenever he does. 

 She lies upon him whenever she can, and licks his hands so 

 constantly as to be quite troublesome. I have to drag her 

 away at night, and she yelps and squeaks some time in 

 Anne's room before she makes up her mind to it." 



And later in the year: "Polly has had a great deal to 

 suffer in her mind from the squirrels, and sits trembling in 

 the window watching them by the hour going backwards and 

 forwards from the walnut to the beds where they hide their 

 treasures." 



The following geological skit by Mr Huxley gives a char- 

 acteristic sketch of Polly, with her weak points a little 

 exaggerated, for she was more remarkable for beauty of 

 character than form. 



Emma Darwin to Tier aunt Fanny Allen. 



BASSET, SOUTHAMPTON {Aug., 1870]. 



We are very comfortable here with William in his little 

 villa, which is cheerful though cockneyish. . . . We talk 

 and read of nothing but the war. I think L. Napoleon's 

 fate might make a tragedy if he was not such a prosaic 

 character himself. I can't help hoping that when he is 

 kickec ^ut which must happen soon Prussia may be 

 persuaded to make peace. What an enormous collapse it 

 is of a nation tumbling headlong into such a war, without a 

 notion of what the enemy was capable of. Leo tells us that 

 almost all the Woolwich young men are " French," tho' he 

 owns it is chiefly because they long for war, and they think 

 that more likely if France wins. Leo himself is a staunch 

 Prussian. Charles is very comf. here, and manages to be 

 idle, and gets through the day with short walks and rides. 

 I have been reading Lanfrey's memoirs of Napoleon I. It 

 is refreshing to read a Frenchman's book who cares nothing 



