You are like Trochu with your “plan,” and I am anxious to learn it.  But have you reflected, 1st, that I am getting deafer and deafer, and that I cannot hear what is said at the council table and in the Society’s rooms half the time people are speaking? and 2nd, that so long as I am President, so long must I be at the beck and call of everything that turns up in relation to the interests of science.  So long as I am in the chair, I cannot be a faineant or refuse to do anything and everything incidental to the position.

My notion is to get away for six months, so as to break with the “world, the flesh, and the devil” of London, for all which I have conceived a perfect loathing.  Six months is long enough for anybody to be forgotten twice over by everybody but personal friends.

I am contemplating a winter in Italy, but I shall keep on my house for Harry’s sake and as a pied a terre in London, and in the summer come and look at you at Burlington House, as the old soap-boiler used to visit the factory.  I shall feel like the man out of whom the legion of devils departed when he looked at the gambades of the two thousand pigs going at express speed for the waters of Tiberias.

By the way, did you ever read that preposterous and immoral story carefully?  It is one of the best attested of the miracles...

When I have retired from the chair (which I must not scandalise) I shall write a lay sermon on the text.  It will be impressive.

My wife sends her love, and says she has her eye on you.  She is all for retirement.

Ever yours,

I am very sorry to hear of poor Mangles’ death, but I suppose there was no other chance.

T.H.H.

[In September he hails with delight some intermission of the constant depression under which he has been labouring, and writes:—­]

So long as I sit still and write or read I am all right, otherwise not good for much, which is odd, considering that I eat, drink, and sleep like a top.  I suppose that everybody starts with a certain capital of life-stuff, and that expensive habits have reduced mine.

[And again:—­]

I have been very shaky for the last few weeks, but I am picking up again, and hope to come up smiling for the winter’s punishment.

There was nothing to drink last night, so I had some tea! with my dinner—­smoked a pipe or two—­slept better than usual, and woke without blue devils for the first time for a week!!!  Query, is that the effect of tea or baccy?  I shall try them again.  We are fearfully and wonderfully made, especially in the stomach—­which is altogether past finding out.

[Still, his humour would flash out in the midst of his troubles; he writes in answer to a string of semi-official inquiries from Sir J. Donnelly:—­]

Highcroft House, Milford, Godalming.

Sir,

In reply to your letter of the 9th August (666), I have the honour to state:—­