The fact is, I have been knocked up ever since Tuesday, when our University Deputation came off; and my good wife (who is laid up herself) suspects me (not without reason) of failing to take advantage of a gleam of sunshine.

By the way, can you help us over the University business?  Lord Rosebery is favourable, and there is absolutely nobody on the other side except sundry Philistines, who, having got their degrees, are desirous of inflating their market value.

Yours very truly,

T.H.  Huxley.

[The next is in answer to an appeal for a subscription, from the Church Army.]

January 26, 1895.

I regret that I am unable to contribute to the funds of the Church Army.

I hold it to be my duty to do what I can for the cases of distress of which I have direct knowledge; and I am glad to be able now and then to give timely aid to the industrious and worthy people with whom, as a householder, I am brought into personal relation; and who are so often engaged in a noiseless and unpitied but earnest struggle to do well.

In my judgment, a domestic servant, who is perhaps giving half her wages to support her old parents, is more worthy of help than half-a-dozen Magdalens.

Under these circumstances, you will understand that such funds as are at my disposal are already fully engaged.

[The following is to a gentleman—­an American, I think—­who sent him a long manuscript, an extraordinary farrago of nonsense, to read and criticise, and help to publish.  But as he seemed to have acted in sheer simplicity, he got an answer:—­]

Hodeslea, January 31, 1895.

Dear Sir,

I should have been glad if you had taken the ordinary, and, I think, convenient course of writing for my permission before you sent the essay which has reached me, and which I return by this post.  I should then have had the opportunity of telling you that I do not undertake to read, or take any charge of such matters, and we should both have been spared some trouble.

I the more regret this, since being unwilling to return your work without examination, I have looked at it, and feel bound to give you the following piece of advice, which I fear may be distasteful, as good counsel generally is.

Lock up your essay.  For two years—­if possible, three—­read no popular expositions of science, but devote yourself to a course of sound practical instruction in elementary physics, chemistry, and biology.

Then re-read your essay; do with it as you think best; and, if possible, regard a little more kindly than you are likely to do at present, yours faithfully,

T.H.  Huxley.

[The following passage from a letter to Sir J.D.  Hooker refers to a striking discovery made by Dubois:—­]

Hodeslea, Eastbourne, February 14, 1895.

The Dutchmen seem to have turned up something like the “missing link” in Java, according to a paper I have just received from Marsh.  I expect he was a Socratic party, with his hair rather low down on his forehead and warty cheeks.