176 LIFE OF PROFESSOR HUXLEY CHAP. VIII 



even the fresh breezes of this place will keep the former 

 in order. That is a discovery I have made here, and 

 though highly instructive, it is not so pleasant as some 

 other physiological results that have turned up. 



Chapman, who died of cholera, was a distant relative 

 of my man. The poor fellow vanished in the middle of 

 an unfinished article, which has appeared in the last 

 Westminster, as his forlorn vale I to the world. After all, 

 that is the way to die, better a thousand times than 

 drivelling off into eternity betwixt awake and asleep in 

 a fatuous old age. Believe me, ever yours faithfully, 



T. H. HUXLEY. 



On Tyndall consenting, he wrote again on the 

 29th : 



I rejoice in having got you to put your head under 

 my yoke, and feel ready to break into a hand gallop on 

 the strength of it. 



I have written to Chapman to tell him you only make 

 an experiment on your cerebral substance, whose con- 

 tinuance depends on tenacity thereof. 



I didn't suspect you of being seduced by the magnifi- 

 cence of the emolument, you Cincinnatus of the laboratory. 

 I only suggested that as pay sweetens labour, a fortiori 

 it will sweeten what to you will be no labour. 



I'm not a miserable mortal now quite the contrary. 

 I never am when I have too much to do, and my sage 

 reflection was not provoked by envy of the more idle. 

 Only I do wish I could sometimes ascertain the exact 

 juste milieu of work which will suit, not my head or will, 

 these can't have too much ; but my absurd stomach. 



The Edinburgh candidature, the adoption of his 

 wider scheme for the carrying out of the coast survey, 

 and his approaching marriage, are touched upon in 



