346 LIFE OF PROFESSOR HUXLEY CHAP. XIV 



I came back only last night (he writes to Sir M. 

 Foster on August 1) from Paris, where I sped on Sunday 

 night, in a horrid state of alarm from a cursed blundering 

 telegram which led me to believe that Leonard (you know 

 he got his first class to our great joy) who had left for 

 the continent on Saturday, was ill or had had an 

 accident. 



It was indeed a hurried journey. On receipt of 

 the telegram, he rushed to Victoria only to miss the 

 night mail. The booking-clerk suggested that he 

 should drive to London Bridge, take train to Lewes, 

 and thence take a fly to JJewhaven, where he ought 

 to catch a later boat. The problem was to catch the 

 London Bridge train. There was barely a quarter of 

 an hour, but thanks to a good horse and the Sunday 

 absence of traffic, the thing was done, establishing, I 

 believe, what the modern mind delights in, a record 

 in cab-driving. Happily the anxiety at not finding his 

 son in Paris was soon allayed by another telegram 

 from home, where his son-in-law, the innocent sender 

 of the original message, had meanwhile arrived. He 

 writes to Sir M. Foster : 



Judging by my scrawl, which is worse than usual, I 

 should say the anxiety had left its mark, but I am none 

 the worse otherwise. 



This was indeed the case. Other letters to Sir 

 M. Foster show that he was unusually well, perhaps 

 because he was really making holiday to some extent. 

 Thus on August 16, he writes : 



This is a lovely country, and I have been reading 

 novels and walking about for the last four days. I must 



