iS3i.] W. D. FOX. I^Q 



castles in the air about hunting foxes in Shropshire, now 

 llamas in South America. 



There is indeed a tide in the affairs of men. If you see 

 Mr. Wood, remember me very kindly to him. 

 Good-bye. 



My dear Hen slow, 



Your most sincere friend, 



Chas. Darwin. 

 Excuse this letter in such a hurry. 



C. Darwin to W. D. Fox. 



17 Spring Gardens, London, 



September 6, 1831. 

 ***** 

 Your letter gave me great pleasure. You cannot imagine 

 how much your former letter annoyed and hurt me.* But, 

 thank heaven, I firmly believe that it was my own e7ttire fault 

 in so interpreting your letter. I lost a friend the other day, 

 and I doubt whether the moral death (as I then wickedly 

 supposed) of our friendship did not grieve me as much as the 

 real and sudden death of poor Ramsay. We have known 

 each other too long to need, I trust, any more explanations. 

 But I will mention just one thing — that on my death-bed, I 

 think I could say I never uttered one insincere (which at 

 the time I did not fully feel) expression about my regard for 

 you. On thing more — the sending immediately the insects, 

 on my honour, was an unfortunate coincidence. I forgot how 

 you naturally would take them. When you look at them 

 now, I hope no unkindly feelings will rise in your mind, and 

 that you will believe that you have always had in me a 

 sincere, and I will add, an obliged friend. The very many 

 pleasant minutes that we spent together in Cambridge rose 

 like departed spirits in judgment against me. May we have 



* He had misunderstood a letter of Fox's as implying a charge of false- 

 hood. 



