As to Madeira—­I do not think you could do better.  You can have as much quiet there as in Venice, for there are next to no carts or carriages.  I was at an excellent hotel, the “Bona Vista,” kept by an Englishman in excellent order, and delightfully situated on the heights outside Funchal.  When once acclimatised and able to bear moderate fatigue, I should say nothing would be more delightful and invigorating than to take tents and make the round of the island.  There is nothing I have seen anywhere which surpasses the cliff scenery of the north side, or on the way thither, the forest of heaths as big as sycamores.

There is a matter of natural history which might occupy without fatiguing you, and especially without calling for any great use of the eyes.  That is the effect of Madeiran climate on English plants transported there—­and the way in which the latter are beating the natives.  There is a Doctor who has lots of information on the topic.  You may trust anything but his physic.

[The rest of the letter gives details about scientific literature touching Madeira.

A piece of advice to his son anent building a house:—­]

September 22, 1892.

Lastly and biggestly, don’t promise anything, agree to anything, nor sign anything (swear you are an “illiterate voter” rather than this last) without advice—­or you may find yourself in a legal quagmire.  Builders, as a rule, are on a level with horse-dealers in point of honesty—­I could tell you some pretty stories from my small experience of them.

[The next, to Lord Farrer, is apropos of quite an extensive correspondence in the “Times” as to the correct reading of the well-known lines about the missionary and the cassowary, to which both Huxley and Lord Farrer had contributed their own reminiscences.]

Hodeslea, October 15, 1892.

My dear Farrer,

If you were a missionary
In the heat of Timbuctoo
YOU’d wear nought but a nice and airy
Pair of bands—­p’raps cassock too.

Don’t you see the fine touch of local colour in my version!  Is it not obvious to everybody who understands the methods of high a priori criticism that this consideration entirely outweighs the merely empirical fact that your version dates back to 1837—­which I must admit is before my adolescence?  It is obvious to the meanest capacity that mine must be the original text in “Idee,” whatever your wretched “Wirklichkeit” may have to say to the matter.

And where, I should like to know, is a glimmer of a scintilla of a hint that the missionary was a dissenter?  I claim him for my dear National Church.

Ever yours,

T.H.  Huxley.

[The following is about a document which he had forgotten that he wrote:—­]

Hodeslea, Eastbourne, November 24, 1892.

My dear Donnelly,

It is obvious that you have somebody in the Department who is an adept in the imitation of handwriting.