1879 LETTER TO SKELTON 7 



than to investigate the matter afresh in the way it ought to be 

 investigated, but that would require a voyage of some time, 

 and the investigation of this thing in its native haunts is a kind 

 of work for which, for many years past, I have had no oppor- 

 tunity, and which I do not think I am very likely to enjoy again. 

 Therefore my own judgment is in an absolute state of sus- 

 pension about it. I can only assure you what has been said 

 about this friend of mine, but I cannot say whether what is said 

 is justified or not. But I feel very happy about the matter. , 

 There is one thing about us men of science, and that is, no one 

 who has the greatest prejudice against science can venture to 

 say that we ever endeavour to conceal each other's mistakes, j 

 And, therefore, I rest in the most entire and complete confidence 

 that if this should happen to be a blunder of mine, some day or 

 other it will be carefully exposed by somebody. But pray let me 

 remind you whether all this story about Bathybius be right or 

 wrong, makes not the slightest difference to the general argu- 

 ment of the remarkable address put before you to-night. All the 

 statements your President has made are just as true, as pro- 

 foundly true, as if this little eccentric Bathybius did not exist 

 at all. 



Several letters of miscellaneous interest may be quoted. 



The following acknowledges the receipt of Essays in 

 Romance: — 



4 Marlborough Place, London, N.W., 

 January 1879. 



My dear Skelton — Being the most procrastinating letter- 

 writer in existence, I thought, or pretended to think, when I 

 received your Essays in Romance that it would not be decent 

 to thank you until I had read the book. And when I had done 

 myself that pleasure, I further pretended to think that it would 

 be much better to wait till I could send you my Hume book, 

 which, as it contains a biography, is the nearest approach to a 

 work of fiction of which I have yet been guilty. 



The " Hume " was sent, and I hope reached you a week 

 ago, and as my conscience just now inquired in a very sneering 

 and unpleasant tone whether I had any further pretence for 

 not writing on hand, I thought I might as well stop her mouth 

 at once. 



You will see oddly enough that I have answered your ques- 

 tion about dreams in a sort of way on page 96.* 



* Cp. Essays in Romance, p. 329 ; Huxley's Hume, p. 96. 



