4 LIFE OF PROFESSOR HUXLEY chap, i 



That peculiarity has been passed on to me in full strength ; it 

 has often stood me in good stead; it has sometimes played me 

 sad tricks, and it has always been a danger. But, after all, if 

 my time were to come over again, there is nothing I would less 

 wilhngly part with than my inheritance of mother-wit. 



Restless, talkative, untiring to the day of her death, she 

 was at sixty-six " as active and energetic as a young wom- 

 an." His early devotion to her was remarkable. Describ- 

 ing her to his future wife he writes : — 



As a child my love for her was a passion. I have lain awake 

 for hours crying because I had a morbid fear of her death ; her 

 approbation was my greatest reward, her displeasure my great- 

 est punishment. 



I have next to nothing to say about my childhood (he con- 

 tinues in the Autobiography). In later years my mother, look- 

 ing at me almost reproachfully, would sometimes say, " Ah ! you 

 were such a pretty boy ! " whence I had no difficulty in conclud- 

 ing that I had not fulfilled my early promise in the matter of 

 looks. In fact, I have a distinct recollection of certain curls of 

 which I was vain, and of a conviction that I closely resembled 

 that handsome, courtly gentleman, Sir Herbert Oakley, who was 

 vicar of our parish, and who was as a god to us country folk, 

 because he was occasionally visited by the then Prince George 

 of Cambridge. I remember turning my pinafore wrong side 

 forwards in order to represent a surplice, and preaching to my 

 mother's maids in the kitchen as nearly as possible in Sir Her- 

 bert's manner one Sunday morning when the rest of the family 

 were at church. That is the earliest indication of the strong 

 clerical affinities which my friend Mr. Herbert Spencer has 

 always ascribed to me, though I fancy they have for the most 

 part remained in a latent state. 



There remains no record of his having been a very pre- 

 cocious child. Indeed, it is usually the eldest child whose 

 necessary companionship with his elders wins him this 

 reputation. The youngest remains a child among children 

 longer than any other of his brothers and sisters. 



One talent, however, displayed itself early. The faculty 

 of drawing he inherited from his father. But on the queer 

 principle that training is either unnecessary to natural ca- 

 pacity or even ruins it, he never received regular instruction 



