250 



LIFE OF PROFESSOR HUXLEY chap, xvii 



October shows an unusual entry in his diary ; the sac- 

 rifice of a working evening to hear Jenny Lind sing. Fond 

 though he was of music, as those may remember who ever 

 watched his face at the Sunday evening gatherings in Marl- 

 borough Place in the later seventies, when there was sure 

 to be at least a little good music or singing either from 

 his daughters or some of the guests, he seldom could spare 

 the time for concert-going or theatre-going, and the occa- 

 sional notes of his bachelor days, " to the opera with Spen- 

 cer," had ceased as his necessary occupations grew more 

 engrossing. 



This year his friend Hooker moved to Kew to act as 

 second in command to his father. Sir William Hooker, the 

 director of the Botanical Gardens. This move made meet- 

 ings between the two friends, except at clubs and societies, 

 more difficult, and was one of the immediate causes of the 

 foundation of the x Club. It is this move which is referred 

 to in the following letters ; the " poor client " being the 

 wife of an old messmate of his on the Rattlesnake: — 



Jermyn Street, Nov. 17. 



My dear Hooker — My wife wrote to yours yesterday, the 

 enclosed note explaining the kitchen-revolution which, it seems, 

 must delay our meeting. When she had done, however, she did 

 not know where to direct it, and I am no wiser, so I send it to 

 you. 



It's a horrid nuisance and I have sworn a few, but that will 

 not cook the dinner, however much it may prepare me for being 

 cooked elsewhere. To complete my disgust at things in general, 

 my wife is regularly knocked up with dining out twice this 

 week, though it was only in the quietest way. I shall have to 

 lock her up altogether. 



X has made a horrid mess of it, and I am sorry to say, 



from what I know of him, that I cannot doubt where the fault 

 lies. The worst of it is that he has a wife and three children 

 over here, left without a penny or any means of support. The 

 poor woman wrote to me the other day, and when I went to see 

 her I found her at the last shilling and contemplating the work- 

 house as her next step. She has brothers in Australia, and it 

 appeared to me that the only way to do her any good was to get 

 her out. She cannot starve there, and there will be more hope 



