256 LIFE OF PROFESSOR HUXLEY chap, xv 



from being influenced by those unworthy antagonisms, and that 

 the just and benevolent enterprise you have undertaken may 

 have a happy issue. — I am, my Lord Mayor, your obedient 

 servant, Thomas H. Huxley. 



Hotel Kursaal, Maloja, Haute Engadine, 

 July 8, 1889. 



My dear Lankester- — Many thanks for your letter. I was 

 rather anxious as to the result of the meeting, knowing the 

 malice and subtlety of the Philistines, but as it turned out they 

 were effectually snubbed. I was glad to see your allusion to 

 Coleridge's impertinences. It will teach him to think twice be- 

 fore he abuses his position again. I do not understand Stead's 

 position in the Pall Mall. He snarls but does not bite. 



I am glad that the audience (I judge from the Times report) 

 seemed to make the points of my letter, and live in hope that 

 when I see last week's Spectator I shall find Hutton frantic. 



This morning a letter marked " Immediate " reached me 

 from Bourne, date July 3. I am afraid he does not read the 

 papers or he would have known it was of no use to appeal to 

 me in an emergency. I am writing to him. — Ever yours very 

 faithfully, T. H. Huxley. 



On his return to England, however, a fortnight of 

 London, interrupted though it was by a brief visit to Mr. 

 and Mrs. Humphry Ward at the delightful old house of 

 Great Hampden, was as much as he could stand. " I begin 

 to discover," he writes to Sir M. Foster, "I have a heart 

 again, a circumstance of which I had no reminder at the 

 Maloja." So he retreated at once to Eastbourne, which 

 had done him so much good before. 



4 Marlborough Place, Sept. 24, 1889. 



My dear Hooker — How's a' wi' ye? We came back from 

 the Engadine early in the month, and are off to Eastbourne to- 

 morrow. I rejuvenate in Switzerland and senescate (if there is 

 no such verb, there ought to be) in London, and the sooner I 

 am out of it the better. 



When are you going to have an x ? I cannot make out what 

 has become of Spencer, except that he is somewhere in Scot- 

 land. — Ever yours, T. H. Huxley. 



We shall be at our old quarters — 3 Jevington Gardens, East- 

 bourne — from to-morrow onwards. 



