Tell the Doctor all about the medal, with my kindest regards, and believe me, my dearest Lizzie, your affectionate brother,

Tom.

4 Upper York Place, St. John’s Wood, April 22, 1853.

My dearest Lizzie,

First let me congratulate you on being safe over your troubles and in possession of another possible President.  I think it may be worth coming over twenty years hence on the possibility of picking up something or other from one of my nephews at Washington.

[He sends some money.] Would it were more worth your having, but I have not as yet got on to Tom Tiddler’s ground on this side of the water.  You need not be alarmed about my having involved myself in any way—­such portion of it as is of my sending has been conquered by mine own sword and spear, and the rest came from Mary. [Mrs. George Huxley]...

[After giving a summary of his struggle with the Admiralty, he proceeds]—­If I were to tell you all the intriguing and humbug there has been about my unfortunate grant—­which yet granted—­it would occupy this letter, and though a very good illustration of the encouragement afforded to Science in this country, would not be very amusing.  Once or twice it has fairly died out, only to be stirred up again by my own pertinacity.  However, I have hopes of it at last, as I hear Lord Rosse is just about to make another application to the present Government on the subject.  While this business has been dragging on of course I have not been idle.  I have four memoirs (on various matters in Comparative Anatomy) in the “Philosophical Transactions,” and they have given me their Fellowship and one of the Royal medals.  I have written a whole lot of things for the journals—­reviews for the “British and Foreign Quarterly Medical,” etc.  I am one of the editors of Taylor’s “Scientific Memoirs” (German scientific translations).  In conjunction with my friend Busk I am translating a great German book on the “Microscopical Anatomy of Man,” and I have engaged to write a long article for Todd’s “Cyclopaedia.”  Besides this, have read two long memoirs at the British Association, and have given two lectures at the Royal Institution—­one of them only two days ago, when I was so ill with influenza I could hardly stand or speak.

Furthermore, I have been a candidate for a Professorship of Natural History at Toronto (which is not even yet decided); for one at Aberdeen, which has been given against me; and at present I am a candidate for the Professorship of Physiology at King’s College, or, rather, for half of it—­Todd having given up, and Bowman, who remains, being willing to take only half, and that he will soon give up.  My friend Edward Forbes—­a regular brick, who has backed me through thick and thin—­is backing me for King’s College, where he is one of the Professors.  My chance is, I believe, very good, but nothing can be more uncertain than the result of the contest.  If they don’t take one of their own men I think they will have me.  It would suit me very well, and the whole chair is worth 400 pounds sterling a year, and would enable me to live.