[To his sister.]

The Government School of Mines, Jermyn Street, March 27, 1858.

My dearest Lizzie,

It is a month since your very welcome letter reached me.  I had every inclination and every intention to answer it at once, but the wear and tear of incessant occupation (for your letter arrived in the midst of my busiest time) has, I will not say deprived me of the leisure, but of that tone of mind which one wants for writing a long letter.  I fully understand—­no one should be better able to comprehend—­how the same causes may operate on you, but do not be silent so long again; it is bad for both of us.  I have loved but few people in my life, and am not likely to care for any more unless it be my children.  I desire therefore rather to knit more firmly than to loosen the old ties, and of these which is older or stronger than ours?  Don’t let us drift asunder again.

Your letter came just after the birth of my second child, a little girl.  I registered her to-day in the style and title of Jessie Oriana Huxley.  The second name is a family name of my wife’s and not, as you might suppose, taken from Tennyson.  You will know why my wife and I chose the first.  We could not make you a godmother, as my wife’s mother is one, and a friend of ours had long since applied for the other vacancy, but perhaps this is a better tie than that meaningless formality.  My little son is fifteen months old; a fair-haired, blue-eyed, stout little Trojan, very like his mother.  He looks out on the world with bold confident eyes and open brow, as if he were its master.  We shall try to make him a better man than his father.  As for the little one, I am told she is pretty, and slavishly admit the fact in the presence of mother and nurse, but between ourselves I don’t see it.  To my carnal eyes her nose is the image of mine, and you know what that means.  For though wandering up and down the world and work have begun to sow a little silver in my hair, they have by no means softened the outlines of that remarkable feature.

You want to know what I am and where I am—­well, here’s a list of titles.  T.H.H., Professor of Natural History, Government School of Mines, Jermyn Street; Naturalist to the Geological Survey; Curator of the Paleontological collections (non-official maid-of-all-work in Natural Science to the Government); Examiner in Physiology and Comparative Anatomy to the University of London; Fullerian Professor of Physiology to the Royal Institution (but that’s just over); F.R.S., F.G.S., etc.  Member of a lot of Societies and Clubs, all of which cost him a mint of money.  Considered a rising man and not a bad fellow by his friends—­per contra greatly over-estimated and a bitter savage critic by his enemies.  Perhaps they are both right.  I have a high standard of excellence and am no respecter of persons, and I am afraid I show the latter peculiarity rather too much.  An internecine feud rages between Owen and myself (more’s the pity) partly on this account, partly from other causes.