To those who think that questions of the kind I have been discussing have merely an academic interest, let me suggest once more that a century ago Robespierre and St. Just proved that the way of answering them may have extremely practical consequences.

[Without pretending to offer any offhand solution for so vast a problem, he suggests two points in conclusion.  One, that in considering the matter we should proceed from the known to the unknown, and take warning from the results of either extreme in self-government or the government of a family; the other, that the central point is] “the fact that the natural order of things—­the order, that is to say, as unmodified by human effort—­does not tend to bring about what we understand as welfare.” [The population question has first to be faced.

The following letters cover the period up to the trip to the Canaries, already alluded to:—­]

3 Jevington Gardens, Eastbourne, January 6, 1890.

My dear Foster,

That capital photograph reached me just as we were going up to town (invited for the holidays by our parents), and I put it in my bag to remind me to write to you.  Need I say that I brought it back again without having had the grace to send a line of thanks?  By way of making my peace, I have told the Fine Art Society to send you a copy of the engraving of my sweet self.  I have not had it framed—­firstly, because it is a hideous nuisance to be obliged to hang a frame one may not like; and secondly, because by possibility you might like some other portrait better, in which case, if you will tell me, I will send that other.  I should like you to have something by way of reminder of T.H.H.

When Harry [His younger son.] has done his work at Bart’s at the end of March I am going to give him a run before he settles down to practice.  Probably we shall go to the Canaries.  I hear that the man who knows most about them is Dr. Guillemard, a Cambridge man.  “Kennst ihn du wohl?” Perhaps he might give me a wrinkle.

With our united best wishes to you all.

Ever yours very faithfully,

T.H.  Huxley.

Eastbourne, January 13, 1890.

My dear Hooker,

We missed you on the 2nd, though you were quite right not to come in that beastly weather.

My boy Harry has had a very sharp attack of influenza at Bartholomew’s, and came down to us to convalesce a week ago, very much pulled down.  I hope you will keep clear of it.

Harry’s work at the hospital is over at the end of March, and before the influenza business I was going to give him a run for a month or six weeks before he settled down to practice.  We shall go to the Canaries as soon in April as possible.  Are you minded to take a look at Teneriffe?  Only 4 1/2 days’ sea—­good ships.

Ever yours affectionately,

T.H.  Huxley.

[However, Sir J. Hooker was unable to join “the excursion to the Isles of the Blest.”]