426 LIFE OF PROFESSOR HUXLEY chap, xxhi 



However, strength keeps up very well considering, and of 

 course all depends upon how the renal business goes. At present 

 I don't feel at all like " sending in my checks," and without 

 being over sanguine I rather incline to think that my native 

 toughness will get the best of it — albuminuria or otherwise. — 

 Ever your faithful friend, T. H. H. 



Misfortunes never come single. My son-in-law, Eckersley, 

 died of yellow fever the other day at San Salvador — just as he 

 was going to take up an appointment at Lima worth £1200 a 

 year. Rachel and her three children have but the slenderest 

 provision. 



The next two days there was a slight improvement, but 

 on the third morning the heart began to fail. The great 

 pain subdued by anaesthetics, he lingered on about seven 

 hours, and at half-past three on June 29 passed away very 

 quietly. 



He was buried at Finchley, on July 4, beside his brother 

 George and his little son Noel, under the shadow of the 

 oak, which had grown up into a stately young tree from 

 the little sapling it had been when the grave of his first-born 

 was dug beneath it, five and thirty years before. 



There was no official ceremony. An old friend, Mr. 

 Llewellyn Davies, came from Kirby Lonsdale to read the 

 service ; the many friends who gathered at the grave-side 

 were there as friends mourning the death of a friend, and 

 all touched with the same sense of personal loss. 



By his special direction, three lines from a poem written 

 by his wife, were inscribed upon his tombstone — lines in- 

 spired by his own robust conviction that, all question of 

 the future apart, this life as it can be lived, pain, sorrow, 

 and evil notwithstanding, is worth — and well worth — 

 living : — 



Be not afraid, ye waiting hearts that weep ; 

 For still He giveth His beloved sleep, 

 And if an endless sleep He wills, so best. 



