354 LIFE 0F PROFESSOR HUXLEY chap, xx 



Hodeslea, Eastbourne, March 27, 1892. 



My dear Hooker— I had to run up to town on Friday and 

 forgot your letter. The x is a puzzle— I will stick by the ship 

 as long as you do, depend upon that. I fear we can hardly 

 expect to see dear old Tyndall there again. As for myself, I 

 dare not venture when snow is on the ground, as on the last 

 two occasions. And now, I am sorry to say, there is another 

 possible impediment in my wife's state of health. 



I have had a very anxious time of it altogether lately. But 

 sich is life ! 



My sagacious granddaughter Joyce (gone home now) ob- 

 served to her grandmother some time ago — " I don't want to 

 grow up." " Why don't you want to grow up ? " " Because I 

 notice that grown-up people have a great deal of trouble." Sa- 

 gacious philosopheress of 7 ! — Ever yours affectionately, 



T. H. Huxley. 



Hodeslea, June 27, 1892. 



My dear Foster — My wife has been writing to Mrs. Foster 

 to arrange for your visit, which will be heartily welcome. 



Now I don't want to croak. No one knows better than 

 I, the fatal necessity for any one in your position: more than 

 that, the duty in many cases of plunging into public functions, 

 and all the guttle, guzzle, and gammon therewith connected. 



But do let me hold myself up as the horrid example of what 

 comes of that sort of thing for men who have to work as you are 

 doing and I have done. To be sure you are a " lungy " man 

 and I am a " livery " man, so that your chances of escaping 

 candle-snuff accumulations with melancholic prostration are 

 much better. Nevertheless take care. The pitcher is a very 

 valuable piece of crockery, and I don't want to live to see it 

 cracked by going to the well once too often. 



I am in great spirits about the new University movement, 

 and have told the rising generation that this old hulk is ready 

 to be towed out into line of battle, if they think fit, which is 

 more commendable to my public spirit than my prudence. — Ever 

 yours, T. H. Huxley. 



Hodeslea, June 20, 1892. 



My dear Romanes — My wife and I, no less than the Hook- 

 ers who have been paying us a short visit, were very much 

 grieved to hear that such serious trouble has befallen you. 



In such cases as yours (as I am sure your doctors have told 

 you) hygienic conditions are everything — good air and idleness, 



