474 Life and Letters of Francis Gallon 



42, Rutland Gate, London. October 4, 1885. 

 My dear Sir, Excuse delay in reply, as though I date from town I am still in the country. 

 Let me first cordially thank you for your kind letter and the many interesting remarks it 

 contains. 



(1) I have written to the Secretary of the Anthropological to tell you exactly wliat the 

 annual cost of the journal is, I think it is £1, viz. 4 parts at 5/- each. Also I told liini to send 

 for your acceptance from me, a recent number in which there is an exceedingly good paper 

 about the Jews, illustrated by some rather successful "composite" photographs of Jews by 

 myself, which it may amuse you to look at. 



(2) I have ordered both the books you speak of: thank you very much for telling me of 

 the latter especially, I mean that about the sex of the child. 



(3) You were so kind as to send me some time ago your investigation into the colour of 

 hair, and I feel myself open to blame for not having drawn attention to it already at the 

 Anthropological or elsewhere, but the fact is that I wanted to work up my own data, and to 

 give both results at the same time. My data are now worked up, but there still remains some- 

 thing to be done, so that there will be a little further delay. 



Did you ever consider the physiology of clear green eyes — bright green I mean, such as 

 Dante says Beatrice had ? The common often repeated statement that blue eyes are merely the 

 effect of seeing pigment through a semi-transparent medium, and that there is only one sort of 

 pigment, cannot possibly explain the existence of blue and green eyes, both equally translucent. 

 There must be a green pigment somewhere. I have asked all our best physiologists, and have 

 looked through many German and French memoirs, thus far in vain, for a rationale. 



I am assured that the pigment particles are not so minute as to affect the light by any 

 iridescent effect. In short, that the blue and green cannot be due to such causes as those that 

 make the waters of the Rhone, blue, and that of some of the Tyrolese rivers, green. 



Believe me, Very faithfully yours, Francis Galton. 



This letter is a reply to that of Alphonse de Candolle, published in our 

 Vol. ii, p. 210. 



Hotel Victoria, Sorrento. March 24, 1886. 



Dear George, At last we are in the promised land, most comfortable, and all most beautiful. 

 It was a disagreeable journey, so far as railway went, to Genoa. Genoa most Italian, and yet 

 quite fresh and full of bustle. Then we tried Nervi but it is cramped. I got a biggish, Ste Agnes*, 

 sort of a walk in the afternoon and we left for Pisa next morning. Pisa glorious. I felt there 

 was more in man than I was wont to think looking at the artistic triumphs there. Next day 

 to Rome (Hotel dTtalie — very recommendable for sunshine, and good generally); Saturday, 

 Sunday and Monday we saw old scenes. We had a very social afternoon with Mrs Grey and 

 Miss Shirreff; also I looked up an Anthropologist (G. Sergi) and saw his studio, and learnt at 

 the Vatican Manufactory much about mosaics, as affording good standards of reference lor 

 anthropologists, tints of skin, etc. Left Rome yesterday, Tuesday, morning and got to Sorrento 

 at 8. Slept at another hotel, but rooms not sunny enough so changed here this morning. 

 Vesuvius smokes famously. Yesterday the air was saturated and clouds lay here and there 

 among the hills at all levels. The steam from Vesuvius mixed with the clouds and occasionally 

 showed itself distinctly as growing in volume as it left the cone. I strongly suspect the sulphur 

 in it formed centres of deposition for the fresh cloud. The effect was rather striking. We shall, 

 1 expect, settle here for a full fortnight. 



Tell us how you are going on, and what has taken place at Mentone since we left. Any 

 good excursions'? Louisa sends her kindest remembrances, 



Ever affectionately yours, Francis Galtox. 

 To George Darwin, Esq. 



April 9, [1886]. In a dull railway carriage, all alone. 

 My dear George, You will be in England I suppose now, so I write there and to the 

 Meteorological Office. Both your letters came safely. The first reached me just after I wrote, 



* Presumably the well-known excursion from Mentone. 



