1852 THE IRONY OF SUCCESS IO9 



the other day and wrote to the Duke of Northumberland, who 

 is at present First Lord of the Admiralty, upon the subject. 

 His Grace has taken the matter up, and I hope now to get it 

 done. 



With all this, however. Time runs on. People look upon 

 me, I suppose, as a " very promising young man," and perhaps 

 envy my " success," and I all the while am cursing my stars 

 that my Pegasus will fly aloft instead of pulling slowly along 

 in some respectable gig, and getting his oats like any other 

 praiseworthy cart-horse. 



It's a charming piece of irony altogether. It is two years 

 yesterday since I left Sydney harbour — and of course as long 

 since I saw Nettie. I am getting thoroughly tired of our sepa- 

 ration, and I think she is, though the dear little soul is ready to 

 do anything for my sake, and yet I dare not face the stagnation 

 — the sense of having failed in the whole purpose of my exist- 

 ence — which would, I know, sooner or later beset me, even with 

 her, if I forsake my present object. Can you wonder with all 

 this, my dearest Lizzie, that often as I long for your brave heart 

 and clear head to support and advise me, I yet rarely feel in- 

 clined to write ? Pray write to me more often than you have 

 done; tell me all about yourself and the Doctor and your chil- 

 dren. They must be growing up fast, and Florry must be get- 

 ting beyond the " Bird of Paradise " I promised her. Love 

 and kisses to all of them, and kindest remembrances to the Doc- 

 tor. — Ever your affectionate brother, T. H. Huxley. 



To Miss Heathorn 



A^'ov. 13, 1852. 

 Going last week to the Royal Society's library for a book, 

 and like the boy in church " thinkin' o' naughten," when I went 

 in, Weld, the Assistant Secretary, said, " Well, I congratulate 

 you." I confess I did not see at that moment what any mortal 

 man had to congratulate me about. I had a deuced bad cold, 

 with rheumatism in my head ; it was a beastly November day 

 and I was very grumpy, so I inquired in a state of mild sur- 

 prise what might be the matter. Whereupon I learnt that the 

 Medal had been conferred at the meeting of the Council on the 

 day before. I was very pleased . . . and I thought you would 

 be so too, and I thought moreover that it was a fine lever to 

 help us on, and if I could have sent a letter to you immediately 

 I should have sat down and have written one to you on the spot. 



