io 6 LIFE OF PROFESSOR HUXLEY chap, vi 



ever since we have been here. Old residents console her with 

 the remark that Florentine sore throat is a regular thing in the 

 spring. The alternations of heat and cold are detestable. So we 

 stand thus — Naples, bad for both — Rome, good for her, bad for 

 me — Florence, bad for her, baddish for me. Venice has to be 

 tried, but stinks and mosquitoes are sure to render it impos- 

 sible as soon as the weather is warm. Siena is the only place 

 that suited both of us, and I don't think that would exactly 

 answer to live in. Nothing like foreign travel for making one 

 content with home. 



I shall have to find a country lot suited to my fortunes when 

 I am paid off. Couldn't you let us have your gardener's cottage? 

 My wife understands poultry and I shall probably have sufficient 

 strength to open the gate and touch my hat to the Dons as they 

 drive up. 1 am afraid E. is not_ steady enough for waiting-maid 

 or I would offer her services. 



... I am rejoiced to hear that the lessons and the questions 

 are launched. They loom large to me as gigantic undertakings, 

 in which a dim and speculative memory suggests I once took 

 part, but probably it is a solar myth, and I am too sluggish to 

 feel much compunction for the extra trouble you have had. 



Perhaps I shall revive when my foot is on my native heath 

 in the shady groves of the Evangelist.* 



My wife is out photograph hunting — nothing diminishes her 

 activity — otherwise she would join in love and good wishes to 

 Mrs. Foster and yourself. — Ever yours, T. H. Huxley. 



The two worst and most depressing periods of this vain 

 pilgrimage in pursuit of health, were the stay at Rome and 

 at Florence. At the latter town he was inexpressibly ill 

 and weak ; but his daily life was brightened by the sympathy 

 and active kindness of Sir Spencer Walpole, who would 

 take him out for short walks, talking as little as possible, 

 and shield him from the well-meant but tactless attentions 

 of visitors who would try to " rouse him and do him good " 

 by long talks on scientific questions. 



His physical condition, indeed, was little improved. 



As for my unsatisfactory carcase (he writes on March 6, 

 to Sir J. Donnelly), there seems nothing the matter with it now 

 except that the brute objects to work. I eat well, drink well, 



* St. John's Wood. 



