I do not see that what he says affects the philosophy of induction as rightly understood.  No induction, however broad its basis, can confer certainty—­in the strict sense of the word.  The experience of the whole human race through innumerable years has shown that stones unsupported fall to the ground, but that does not make it certain that any day next week unsupported stones will not move the other way.  All that it does justify is the very strong expectation, which hitherto has been invariably verified, that they will do just the contrary.

Only one absolute certainty is possible to man—­namely, that at any given moment the feeling which he has exists.

All other so-called certainties are beliefs of greater or less intensity.

Do not suppose that I am following Abernethy’s famous prescription, “take my pills,” if I refer you to an essay of mine on “Descartes,” and a little book on Hume, for the fuller discussion of these points.  Hume’s argument against miracles turns altogether on the fallacy that induction can give certainty in the strict sense.

We poor mortals have to be content with hope and belief in all matters past and present—­our sole certainty is momentary.

I am yours faithfully,

T.H.  Huxley.

Sir J.G.T.  Sinclair, Bart.

[Except for a last visit to London to pack his books, which proved a heavier undertaking than he had reckoned upon, Huxley did not leave Eastbourne this autumn, refusing Sir J. Donnelly’s hospitable invitation to stay with him in Surrey during the move, of which he exclaims:—­]

Thank Heaven that is my last move—­except to a still smaller residence of a subterranean character!

Grand Hotel, Eastbourne, September 19, 1890.

My dear Donnelly,

And my books—­and watch-dog business generally?

How is that to be transacted whether as in-patient or out-patient at
Firdale?  Much hospitality hath made thee mad.

Seriously, it’s not to be done nohow.  What between papers that don’t come, and profligate bracket manufacturers who keep you waiting for months and then send the wrong things—­and a general tendency of everybody to do nothing right or something wrong—­it is as much as the two of us will do—­to get in, and all in the course of the next three weeks.

Of course my wife has no business to go to London to superintend the packing—­but I should like to see anybody stop her.  However, she has got the faithful Minnie to do the actual work; and swears by all her Gods and Goddesses she will only direct.

It would only make her unhappy if I did not make pretend to believe, and hope no harm may come of it.

Tout a vous,

T.H.  Huxley.