ite of the gallery, for he was greeted with thunders of applause that 

 kept up for five minutes or more. Browning, I thought, had second 

 place. In introducing him, the Public Orator used the words in calorem 

 and instantly a voice from the gallery shouted: "For Heaven's sake, 

 don't make him any hotter; don't you see he's Browning already?" a 

 very swift impromptu. When Spottiswoode, President of the Royal 

 Society was led out, some one yelled: "Name this child," which oc- 

 casioned much laughter because of its absurdity, Spottiswoode being a 

 splendid looking man over six feet in height. Grove was the Chief 

 Justice, Sorby the President of the Geological Society and a man of 

 the highest distinction, Stubbs the historian and Bond the librarian of 

 the British Museum. Which Newton and which Smith were meant, I 

 no longer have the means of determining. 



In the afternoon there was a garden party in the gardens of King's 

 College, concerning which I wrote : "Not a single element was wanting 

 to make a perfect success of the affair. The day was lovely, the only 

 fine day we had had in an immense time; the gardens are the finest 

 in Cambridge, with turf like velvet and shady walks through the 

 groves that were just made for flirtations. Then we had the choir come 

 in and sing a lot of glees for us; the effect of the sweet, rich voices in 

 the open air was indescribably fine. The assemblage of guests was a 

 very brilliant one. All the swells who had taken their degrees in the 

 morning and their families, the professors and fellows turned out in 

 full force. The Huxley girls were there, of course, and I took the op- 

 portunity of renewing my acquaintance with them. No introductions 

 were made and so I didn't meet any one whom I had not known before, 

 but as, by this time, my English friends are numbered by the score, 

 there was no lack of people to talk to. I was the more pleased to have 

 been present, as the garden party is peculiarly an English institution 

 and I wanted very much to see one." 



Osborn had missed this joyous occasion, as he had gone to London 

 to meet his family. He likewise missed a memorable breakfast at Michael 

 Foster's house in Shelford, to which I was invited and where I once 

 more met the Huxley family. I had a long conversation with "the emi- 

 nent man" upon my plans and prospects. He wanted me to spend an- 

 other year in London, but I said that that would not be practicable, if 

 I were to have my year in Germany. 



At the breakfast table there was a jolly crowd and lots of pleasant 

 talk. The whole family combined to chaff Mrs. Huxley about her ex- 

 travagantly high opinion of her husband. I recorded this conversation 



