1888 LETTERS 71 



I was grieved to hear of so seiious an evil as that 

 which [Hirst] named. It is very depressing to find one's 

 friends as well as one's self passing more and more into 

 invalid life. 



Well, we always have one consolation, such as it is, 

 that we have made our lives of some service in the world, 

 and that, in fact, we are suffering from doing too much 

 for our fellows. Such thoughts do not go far in the way 

 of mitigation, but they are better than nothing. 



4 Maklborotjgh Place, 



May 8, 1888. 



My dear Spencer — I have been on the point of 

 writing to you, but put it off for lack of anything cheerful 

 to say. 



After I had recovered from my pleurisy, I could not 

 think why my strength did not come back. It turns out 

 that there is some weakness and dilatation of the heart, 

 but luckily no valvular mischief. I am condemned to the 

 life of a prize pig — physical and mental idleness, and cor- 

 poreal stuflBng with meat and drink, and I am certainly 

 improving under the regimen. 



I am told I have a fair chance of getting all right again. 

 But I take it as a pretty broad hint to be quiet for the 

 rest of my days. At present I have to be very quiet, and 

 I spend most of my time on my back. 



You and I, my dear friend, have had our innings, and 

 carry our bats out while our side is winning. One could 

 not reasonably ask for more. And considering the infinite 

 possibilities of physical and moral suffering which beset us, 

 I, for my part, am well pleased that things are no worse. 

 —Ever yours very faithfully, T. H. Huxley. 



4 Marlborough Place, N.W., 

 June 1, 1888. 



My dear Knowles — I have been living the life of a 

 prize pig for the last six weeks — no exercise, much meat 



