He is helping me as Demonstrator in a course of instruction in Biology which I am giving to Schoolmasters—­with the view of converting them into scientific missionaries to convert the Christian Heathen of these islands to the true faith.

I am afraid that the English microscope turned out to be by no means worth the money and trouble you bestowed upon it.  But the glory of such an optical Sadowa should count for something!  I wish that you would get your Jena man to supply me with one of his best objectives if the price is not ruinous—­I should like to compare it with my 1/12 inch of Ross. [In this connection it may be noted that he himself invented a combination microscope for laboratory use, still made by Crouch the optician. (See “Journal of Queckett Micr.  Club” volume 5 page 144.)]

All our children but Jessie have the whooping-cough—­Pertussis—­I don’t know your German name for it.  It is distressing enough for them, but, I think, still worse for their mother.  However, there are no serious symptoms, and I hope the change of air will set them right.

They all join with me in best wishes and regrets that you are not coming.  Won’t you change your mind?  We start on July 31st.

Ever yours faithfully,

T.H.  Huxley.

[The summer holiday of 1871 was spent at St. Andrews, a place rather laborious of approach at that time, with all the impedimenta of a large and young family, but chosen on account of its nearness to Edinburgh, where the British Association met that year.  I well remember the night journey of some ten or eleven hours, the freshness of the early morning at Edinburgh, the hasty excursion with my father up the hill from the station as far as the old High Street.  The return journey, however, was made easier by the kindness of Dr. Matthews Duncan, who put up the whole family for a night, so as to break the journey.

We stayed at Castlemount, now belonging to Miss Paton, just opposite the ruined castle.  Among other visitors to St. Andrews known to my father were Professors Tait and Crum Brown, who inveigled him into making trial of the “Royal and Ancient” game, which then, as now, was the staple resource of the famous little city.  I have a vivid recollection of his being hopelessly bunkered three or four holes from home, and can testify that he bore the moral strain with more than usual calm as compared with the generality of golfers.  Indeed, despite his naturally quick temper and his four years of naval service at a time when, perhaps, the traditions of a former generation had not wholly died out, he had a special aversion to the use of expletives; and the occasional appearance of a strong word in his letters must be put down to a simply literary use which he would have studiously avoided in conversation.  A curious physical result followed the vigour with which he threw himself into the unwonted recreation.  For the last twenty years his only physical exercise had been walking, and now his arms went black and blue under the muscular strain, as if they had been bruised.