In 1882, the duties of another appointment forced me to resign the Inspectorship, which I had held for so long:  and thenceforward my residence in the Isle of Man gave me fewer opportunities of seeing Professor Huxley:  our friendship, however, remained unbroken; and occasional visits to London gave me many opportunities of renewing it.  He retained his own appointment as Inspector for more than three years after my resignation.  He served, during the closing months of his officialship, on a Royal Commission on trawling, over which the late Lord Dalhousie presided.  But his health broke down before the commissioners issued their report, and he was ordered abroad.  It so happened that in the spring of 1885 I was staying at Florence, when Professor and Mrs. Huxley passed through it on their way home.  He had at that time seen none of his old friends, and was only slowly regaining strength.  After his severe illness Mrs. Huxley encouraged me to take him out for many short walks, and I did my best to cheer him in his depressed condition.  He did not then think that he had ten years of—­on the whole—­happy life before him.  He told me that he was about to retire from all his work, and he added, that he had never enjoyed the Inspectorship after I had left it.  I am happy in believing that the remark was due to the depression from which he was suffering, for he had written to me two years ago,] “The office would be quite perfect, if they did not want an annual report.  I can’t go in for a disquisition on river basins after the manner of Buckland, and you have exhausted the other topics.  I polished off the Salmon Disease pretty fully last year, so what the deuce am I to write about?”

[I saw Professor Huxley for the last time on the Christmas day before his death.  I spent some hours with him, with no other companions than Mrs. Huxley and my daughter.  I had never seen him brighter or happier, and his rich, playful and sympathetic talk vividly recalled the many brilliant hours which I had passed in his company some twelve or thirteen years before.

One word more.  No one could have known Professor Huxley intimately without recognising that he delighted in combat.  He was never happier than when he was engaged in argument or controversy, and he loved to select antagonists worthy of his steel.  The first public inquiry which we held together was attended by a great nobleman, whom Professor Huxley did not know by sight, but who rose at the commencement of our proceedings to offer some suggestions.  Professor Huxley directed him to sit down, and not interrupt the business.  I told my colleague in a whisper whom he was interrupting.  And I was amused, as we walked away to luncheon together, by his quaint remark to me,] “We have begun very well, we have sat upon a duke.” [(Of this he wrote home on March 15, 1881:] “Somebody produced the ‘Punch’ yesterday and showed it to me, to the great satisfaction of the Duke of —­, who has attended our two meetings.  I nearly had a shindy with him at starting, but sweetness and light (in my person) carried the day.” [This “Punch” contained the cartoon of Huxley in nautical costume riding on a salmon; contrary to the custom of “Punch,” it made an unfair hit in appending to his name the letters L.s.d. (Pounds, shillings and pence.) Never was any one who deserved the imputation less.)