In my argument, however, the question is of no moment.  There must be some limit to the production of food by a given area, and there is none to population.

What a stimulus vanity is!—­nothing but the vain dislike of being thought in the wrong would have induced me to trouble myself or bore you with this letter.  Bother Kropotkin!

I think his article very interesting and important nevertheless.

I am getting better but very slowly.

Ever yours very truly,

T.H.  Huxley.

[In reply, Mr. Knowles begged him to come to lunch and a quiet talk, and further suggested, “as an entirely UNBIASSED person,” that he ought to answer Kropotkin’s errors in the “Nineteenth Century,” and not only in a private letter behind his back.

The answer is as follows:—­]

4 Marlborough Place, June 3, 1888.

My dear Knowles,

Your invitation is tantalising.  I wish I could accept it.  But it is now some six weeks that my excursions have been limited to a daily drive.  The rest of my time I spend on the flat of my back, eating, drinking, and doing absolutely nothing besides, except taking iron and digitalis.

I meant to have gone abroad a month ago, but it turned out that my heart was out of order, and though I am getting better, progress is slow, and I do not suppose I shall get away for some weeks yet.

I have neither brains nor nerves, and the very thought of controversy puts me in a blue funk!

My doctors prophesy good things, as there is no valvular disease, only dilatation.  But for the present I must subscribe myself (from an editorial point of view).

Your worthless and useless and bad-hearted friend,

T.H.  Huxley.

[The British Association was to meet at Plymouth this year; and Mr. W.F.  Collier (an uncle of John Collier, his son-in-law) invited Huxley and any friend of his to be his guest at Horrabridge.]

4 Marlborough Place, June 13, 1888.

My dear Mr. Collier,

It would have been a great pleasure to me to be your guest once more, but the Fates won’t have it this time.

Dame Nature has given me a broad hint that I have had my innings, and, for the rest of my time, must be content to look on at the players.

It is not given to all of us to defy the doctors and go in for a new lease, as I am glad to hear you are doing.  I declare that your open invitation to any friend of mine is the most touching mark of confidence I ever received.  I am going to send it to my great ally Michael Foster, Secretary of the Royal Society.  I do not know whether he has made any other arrangements, and I am not quite sure whether he and his wife are going to Plymouth.  But I hope they may be able to accept, for you will certainly like them, and they will certainly like you.  I will ask him to write directly to you to save time.

With very kind remembrances to Mrs. Collier.