Casalini, West Cliff, Bournemouth, March 9, 1888.

My dear Spencer,

I am very sorry to hear from Hooker that you have been unwell again.  You see if young men from the country will go plunging into the dissipations of the metropolis nemesis follows.

Until two days ago, the weather cocks never overstepped North on the one side and East on the other ever since you left.  Then they went west with sunshine and most enjoyable softness—­but next South with a gale and rain—­all ablowin’ and agrowin’ at this present.

I have nothing to complain of so long as I do nothing; but although my hair has grown with its usual rapidity I differ from Samson in the absence of a concurrent return of strength.  Perhaps that is because a male hairdresser, and no Delilah, cut it last!  But I waste Biblical allusions upon you.

My wife and Nettie, who is on a visit, join with me in best wishes.

Please let me have a line to say how you are—­Gladstonianly on a post-card.

Ever yours very faithfully,

T.H.  Huxley.

Bournemouth, April 7, 1888.

My dear Foster,

“Let thy servant’s face be white before thee.”  The obituary of Darwin went to Rix yesterday! [Assistant Secretary of the Royal Society.] It is not for lack of painstaking if it is not worth much, but I have been in a bad vein for work of any kind, and I thought I should never get even this simple matter ended.

I have been bothered with praecordial uneasiness and intermittent pulse ever since I have been here, and at last I got tired of it and went home the day before yesterday to get carefully overhauled.  Hames tells me there is weakness and some enlargement of the left ventricle, which is pretty much what I expected.  Luckily the valves are all right.

I am to go and devote myself to coaxing the left ventricle wall to thicken pro rata—­among the mountains, and to have nothing to do with any public functions or other exciting bedevilments.  So the International Geological Congress will not have the pleasure of seeing its Honorary President in September.  I am disgusted at having to break an engagement, but I cannot deny that Hames is right.  At present the mere notion of the thing puts me in a funk.

I wish I could get out of the chair of the M.B.A.  Also...I know that you and Evans and Dyer will do your best, but you are all eaten up with other occupations.

Just turn it over in your mind—­there’s a dear good fellow—­just as if you hadn’t any other occupations.

With which eminently reasonable and unselfish request believe me,

Ever yours,

T.H.  Huxley.

Bournemouth, April 10, 1888.

My dear Foster,

I send by this post the last—­I hope for your sake and for that of the recording angel—­of —. [The “Heathen Deutscheree”.  A paper of his, contributed to the Royal Society, had been under revision.] I agree to all Brady’s suggestions.