72 LIFE OF PROFESSOR HUXLEY cHAP. Ill 



and drink, and as few manifestations of intelligence as 

 possible, for the purpose of persuading my heart to return 

 to its duty. 



I am astonished to find that there is a kick left in me 

 — even when your friend Kropotkin pitches into me 

 without the smallest justification. Vide XIX., June, 

 p. 820. 



Just look at XIX, February, p. 168. I say, '^ At 

 the present time, the produce of the soil does not suffice," 

 etc. 



I did not say a word about the capabilities of the soil 

 if, as part and parcel of a political and social revolution 

 on the grandest scale, we all took to spade husbandry. 



As a matter of fact, I did try to find out a year or 

 two ago, whether the soil of these islands could, under 

 any circumstances, feed its present population with wheat. 

 I could not get any definite information, but I understood 

 Caird to think that it could. 



In my argument, however, the question is of no 

 moment. There must be some limit to the production of 

 food by a given area, and there is none to population. 



What a stimulus vanity is — nothing but the vain 

 dislike of being thought in the wrong would have induced 

 me to trouble myself or bore you with this letter. Bother 

 Kropotkin ! 



I think his article very interesting and important 

 nevertheless. 



I am getting better, but very slowly. — Ever yours 

 very truly, T. H. Huxlet. 



In reply, Mr. Knowles begged him to come to 

 luncli and a quiet talk, and further suggested, "as 

 an entirely unbiassed person," that he ought to answer 

 Kropotkin's errors in the Nineteenth Century, and not 

 only in a private letter behind his back. 



The answer is as follows : — 



