Once under promise to go, he could not escape without the “few words” which he now found so tiring; but he took the part which assured him greatest freedom, as seconder of the vote of thanks to the president for his address.  The study of an advance copy of the address raised an] “almost overwhelming temptation” [to criticise certain statements contained in it; but this would have been out of place in seconding a vote of thanks; and resisting the temptation, he only] “conveyed criticism,” [as he writes to Professor Lewis Campbell], “in the form of praise”:  [going so far as to suggest] “it might be that, in listening to the deeply interesting address of the President, a thought had occasionally entered his mind how rich and profitable might be the discussion of that paper in Section D” (Biology). [It was not exactly an offhand speech.  Writing to Sir M. Foster for any good report which might appear in an Oxford paper, he says:—­]

I have no notes of it.  I wrote something on Tuesday night, but this draft is no good, as it was metamorphosed two or three times over on Wednesday.

[One who was present and aware of the whole situation once described how he marked the eyes of another interested member of the audience, who knew that Huxley was to speak, but not what he meant to say, turning anxiously whenever the president reached a critical phrase in the address, to see how he would take it.  But the expression of his face told nothing; only those who knew him well could infer a suppressed impatience from a little twitching of his foot.

Of this occasion Professor Henry F. Osborn, one of his old pupils, writes in his “Memorial Tribute to Thomas H. Huxley” ("Transactions of the N.Y.  Acad.  Society” volume 15):—­

Huxley’s last public appearance was at the meeting of the British Association at Oxford.  He had been very urgently invited to attend, for, exactly a quarter of a century before, the Association had met at Oxford, and Huxley had had his famous encounter with Bishop Wilberforce.  It was felt that the anniversary would be an historic one, and incomplete without his presence, and so it proved to be.  Huxley’s especial duty was to second the vote of thanks for the Marquis of Salisbury’s address—­one of the invariable formalities of the opening meetings of the Association.  The meeting proved to be the greatest one in the history of the Association.  The Sheldonian Theatre was packed with one of the most distinguished scientific audiences ever brought together, and the address of the Marquis was worthy of the occasion.  The whole tenor of it was the unknown in science.  Passing from the unsolved problems of astronomy, chemistry, and physics, he came to biology.  With delicate irony he spoke of the] “Comforting word, evolution,” [and passing to the Weismannian controversy, implied that the diametrically opposed views so frequently expressed nowadays threw the whole process of evolution