The social event to which I have always looked back with the greatest 

 pleasure was the New Year's dinner at Huxley's house in Marlborough 

 Road, St. John's Wood. Some days before the Christmas holidays began, 

 and after a meeting of the Royal Society, the great man came up to me 

 and, putting his hand on my shoulder, said: "What are your plans for 

 New Year's Day?" "I haven't any, Sir." "Then come and take dinner 

 with me, won't you?" "Thank you very much, Sir, I shall be delighted." 

 This, every one assured me, was an unprecedented honour. 



A very distinguished company was assembled when I arrived at the 

 house, of whom I remember Tyndall, the great physicist; Lecky, the 

 historian; Riviere, the painter; and Smalley. The latter was the London 

 correspondent of the New York Tribune and a very prominent man 

 in his day. Tyndall I thought a remarkable snob, who could talk of 

 no one without a title, until the ladies had left the table, when he came 

 around and sat down by me, to inquire for Clarence King and other 

 American friends, when he made himself very pleasant. 



Tyndall was undoubtedly a great man and Americans are especially 

 indebted to him for the remarkable renascence of physics which his 

 lectures in this country brought about. Nevertheless, he had a decided 

 streak of the charlatan in him and was unduly greedy of applause. 

 The following anecdote came to me from Huxley's assistant, to whom 

 it was told by Tyndall's assistant and, therefore, it is on excellent 

 authority. 



The eminent physicist was giving a public lecture at the Royal Insti- 

 tution and was standing in front of the long lecture-table, covered 

 with apparatus. On the other side of the table an experiment was in 

 progress; turning to look at it, the lecturer noted that it was going 

 wrong and needed instant attention. Instead of taking the time to run 

 around the end of the long table, he stepped back and took a flying leap 

 over it, amid a tumult of applause from the audience, and set the ex- 

 periment right. The mise en scene had been carefully prepared, the 

 experiment arranged to miscarry and the leap practised for a week 

 beforehand. For all I know to the contrary, this tale may have been a 

 spiteful invention, but, at least, it shows what sort of thing which people 

 who knew him were willing to believe of Tyndall. No man in his senses 

 would have invented such a yarn about Huxley. 



After the dinner there was quite a large New Year's reception. I was 

 talking to Mrs. Huxley, when I noticed an uncommonly handsome girl 

 sitting on the corner of a table across the room. Her face was oddly 

 familiar, yet I felt very certain that I had never seen her before. After 



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