436 LIFE OF PROFESSOR HUXLEY CHAP. 



sincere words in perfect literary form, and without the assist- 

 ance of a note. 



Another description is from the pen of an old pupil in 

 the autumn of 1876, Professor H. Fairfield Osborn, of 

 Columbia College : 



Huxley, as a teacher, can never be forgotten by any of his 

 students. He entered the lecture-room promptly as the clock 

 was striking nine,* rather quickly, and with his head bent for- 

 ward ' as if oppressive with its mind." He usually glanced 

 attention to his class of about ninety, and began speaking before 

 he reached his chair. He spoke between his lips, but with per- 

 fectly clear analysis, with thorough interest, and with philosophic 

 insight which was far above the average of his students. He 

 used very few charts, but handled the chalk with great skill, 

 sketching out the anatomy of an animal as if it were a trans- 

 parent object. As in Darwin's face, and as in Erasmus Dar- 

 win's or Buffon's, and many other anatomists with a strong 

 sense of form, his eyes were heavily overhung by a projecting 

 forehead and eyebrows, and seemed at times to look inward. 

 His lips were firm and closely set, with the expression of posi- 

 tiveness, and the other feature which most marked him was the 

 very heavy mass of hair falling over his forehead, which he 

 would frequently stroke or toss back. Occasionally he would 

 light up the monotony of anatomical description by a bit of 

 humour. 



Huxley was the father of modern laboratory instruction; 

 but in 1879 ne was so intensely engrossed with his own re- 

 searches that he very seldom came through the laboratory, which 

 was ably directed by T. Jeffery Parker, assisted by Howes and 

 W. Newton Parker, all of whom are now professors, Howes 

 having succeeded to Huxley's chair. Each visit, therefore, in- 

 spired a certain amount of terror, which was really unwarranted, 

 for Huxley always spoke in the kindest tones to his students; 

 although sometimes he could not resist making fun at their 

 expense. There was an Irish student who sat in front of me, 

 whose anatomical drawings in water-colour were certainly most 

 remarkable productions. Huxley, in turning over his drawing- 

 book, paused at a large blur, under which was carefully in- 

 scribed, " sheep's liver," and smilingly said, " I am glad to know 

 that is a liver ; it reminds me as much of Cologne cathedral in 



* In most years the lectures began at ten. 



