LETTERS 



305 



and at last my wife lost patience and called in the doctor, who is 

 screwing me up with mix vomica. 



Sound wind and limb otherwise. — Ever yours affectionately, 



T. H. Huxley. 



And again on July 3 : — 



I have just been offered £2800 for Anthony Rich's place and 

 have accepted it. It is probably worth £3000, but if I were to 

 have it on my hands and sell by auction I should get no more out 

 of the transaction. 



I am greatly inclined to put some of the money into a piece 

 of land — a Naboth's vineyard — in front of my house and turn 

 horticulturist. I find nailing up creepers a delightful occupation. 



In the same letter he describes two meetings with old 

 friends : — ■ 



Last Friday I ran down to Hindhead to see Tyndall. He 

 was very much better than I hoped to find him, after such a long 

 and serious illness, quite bright and " Tyndalloid," and not aged 

 as I feared he would be. . . . The local doctor happened to be 

 there during my visit and spoke very confidently of his speedy 

 recovery. The leg is all right again, and he even talks of Swit- 

 zerland, but I begged Mrs. Tyndall to persuade him to keep 

 quiet and within reach of home and skilled medical attendance. 



Saturday to Monday we were at Down, after six or seven 

 years' interruption of our wonted visits. It was very pleasant if 

 rather sad. Mrs. Darwin is wonderfully well — naturally aged — 

 but quite bright and cheerful as usual. Old Parslow turned up 

 on Sunday, just eighty, but still fairly hale. Fuimus fuimus! 



[Parslow was the old butler who had been in Mr. Darwin's 

 service for many years.] 



To his Daughter, Mrs. Roller 



Hodeslea, Eastbourne, May 5, 1891. 

 You dear people must have entered into a conspiracy, as I 

 had letters from all yesterday. I have never been so set up 

 before, and begin to think that fathers (like port) must improve 

 in quality with age. (No irreverent jokes about their getting 

 crusty, Miss.) 



Julian and Joyce taken together may perhaps give a faint 

 idea of my perfections as a child. I have not only a distinct 

 recollection of being noticed on the score of my good looks, but 

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