May 3, 1852.

So much occupation has crowded upon me between the beginning of this letter and the present time that I have been unable to finish it.  I had undertaken to give a lecture at the Royal Institution on the 30th April.  It was on a difficult subject, requiring a good deal of thought; and as it was my first appearance before the best audience in London, you may imagine how anxious and nervous I was, and how completely I was obliged to abstract my thoughts from everything else.

However, I am happy to say it is well over.  There was a very good audience—­Faraday, Professor Forbes, Dr. Forbes, Wharton Jones, and [a] whole lot of “nobs,” among my auditors.  I had made up my mind all day to break down, and then go and hang myself privately.  And so you may imagine that I entered the theatre with a very pale face, and a heart beating like a sledge-hammer nineteen to the dozen.  For the first five minutes I did not know very clearly what I was about, but by degrees I got possession of myself and of my subject, and did not care for anybody.  I have had “golden opinions from all sorts of men” about it, so I suppose I may tell you I have succeeded.  I don’t think, however, that I ever felt so thoroughly used up in my life as I did for two days afterwards.  There is one comfort, I shall never be nervous again about any audience; but at one’s first attempt, to stand in the place of Faraday and such big-wigs might excuse a little weakness.

The way is clear before me, if my external circumstances will only allow me to persevere; but I fully expect that I shall have to give up my dreams.

Science in England does everything—­but pay.  You may earn praise but not pudding.

I have helping hands held out to me on all sides, but there is nothing to help me to.  Last year I became a candidate for a Professorship at Toronto.  I took an infinity of trouble over the thing, and got together a mass of testimonials and recommendations, much better than I had any right to expect.  From that time to this I have heard nothing of the business—­a result for which I care the less, as I believe the chair will be given to a brother of one of the members of the Canadian ministry, who is, I hear, a candidate.  Such a qualification as that is, of course, better than all the testimonials in the world.

I think I told you when I last wrote that I was expecting a grant from Government to publish the chief part of my work, done while away.  I am expecting it still.  I got tired of waiting 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.