216 REMINISCENCES OF HUXLEY 
strengthening spell. My experiences in visiting him 
had one notable feature, which I found it hard to inter- 
pret. After leaving the house, at the close of a Sun- 
day evening, the outside world used to seem cold and 
lonely for being cut off from that presence; yet on the 
next Sunday, at the moment of his cordial greeting, a 
feeling always came over me that up to that moment I 
had never fully taken in how lovable he was, I had 
never quite done him justice. In other words, no mat- 
ter how vivid the image which I carried about in 
my mind, it instantly seemed dim and poor in presence 
of the reality. Such feelings are known to lovers; 
in other relations of life they are surely unusual. I 
was speaking about this to my dear old friend, the late 
Alexander Macmillan, when he suddenly exclaimed: 
“You may well feel so, my boy. I tell you, there is so 
much real Christianity in Huxley that if it were par- 
celled out among all the men, women, and children in 
the British Islands, there would be enough to save the 
soul of every one of them, and plenty to spare! ” 
I have said that Huxley was never unkind; it is 
perhaps hardly necessary to tell his readers that he 
could be sharp and severe, if the occasion required. I 
have heard his wife say that he never would allow 
himself to be preyed upon by bores, and knew well 
how to get ridof them. Some years after the time of 
which I have been writing, I dined one evening at the 
Savile Club with Huxley, Spencer, and James Sime. 
As we were chatting over our coffee, some person 
unknown to us came in and sat down on a sofa near 
by. Presently, this man, becoming interested in the 
conversation, cut short one of our party, and addressed 
a silly remark to Spencer in reply to something which 
