REMINISCENCES OF HUXLEY 213 
have been greater than was called for, is worthy of 
most profound and solemn homage. 
But we did not spend the whole of the evening in 
the little library. Brierwood and Havana at length 
gave out, and the drawing-room had its claims upon us. 
There was a fondness for music in the family, and it 
was no unusual thing for us to gather around the piano 
and sing psalms, after which there would perhaps be a 
Beethoven sonata, or one of Chopin’s nocturnes, or 
perhaps a song. I can never forget the rich contralto 
voice of one bright and charming daughter, since 
passed away, or the refrain of an old-fashioned song 
which she sometimes sang about “ My love, that loved 
me long ago.” From music it was an easy transition 
to scraps of Browning or Goethe, leading to various 
disquisition. Of mirth and badinage there was always 
plenty. I dare say there was not another room in 
London where so much exuberant nonsense might have 
been heard. It is no uncommon thing for masters of 
the Queen’s English to delight in torturing it, and 
Huxley enjoyed that sort of pastime as much as James 
Russell Lowell. “Smole” and “declone” were speci- 
mens of the preterites that used to fall from his lips; 
and as for puns, the air was blue with them. I cannot 
recall one of them now, but the following example, 
from a letter of 1855 inviting Hooker to his wedding, 
will suffice to show the quality: “I terminate my 
Baccalaureate and take my degree of M. A. trimony 
(isn’t that atrocious ?) on Saturday, July 21.” 
One evening the conversation happened to touch 
upon the memorable murder of Dr. Parkman by Dr. 
Webster, and I expressed some surprise that an expert 
chemist, like Webster, should have been so slow in 
