[Black Care was still in the background, but had relaxed her hold upon him. His spirits rose to the old point of gaiety. He writes how he gives a lively lecture to his students, and in the midst of it satan prompts him to crow or howl--a temptation happily resisted. He makes atrocious puns in bidding Hooker to the wedding, which took place on July 21.] Jermyn Street, July 6, 1855. My dear Hooker, I ought long since to have thanked you in Thomson's name as well as my own for your "Flora Indica." Some day I promise myself much pleasure and profit from the digestion of the Introductory Essay, which is probably as much as my gizzard is competent to convert into nutrition. I terminate my Baccalaureate and take my degree of M.A.-trimony (isn't that atrocious?) on Saturday, July 21. After the unhappy criminals have been turned off, there will be refreshments provided for the sheriffs, chaplain, and spectators. Will you come? Don't if it is a bore, but I should much like to have you there. [It was not a large party that assembled at the George Huxleys for the wedding, but all were life-long friends, including, besides the Fanning clan and Mrs. Griffiths, an old Australian ally, Hooker, Tyndall, and Dr. and Mrs. Carpenter. There was none present but felt that abundant happiness was at least well earned after eight years of trial, and still more that its best guarantee was the firm loyalty and devotion that had passed through so many dangers of absence and isolation, so many temptations to renounce the ideal course under stress of circumstance, only to emerge strengthened and ennobled by the stern discipline of much sacrifice. Great as was his new happiness, he hardly stood in need of Darwin's word of warning: "I hope your marriage will not make you idle; happiness, I fear, is not good for work." Huxley could not sit idle for long. If he had no occupation on hand, something worth investigation--and thorough investigation--was sure to catch his eye. So he writes to Hooker from Tenby:--] 15 St. Julian's Terrace, Tenby, August 16, 1855. My dear Hooker, I am so near the end of the honeymoon that I think it can hardly be immodest if I emerge from private life and write you a letter, more particularly as I want to know something. I went yesterday on an expedition to see the remains of a forest which exists between tidemarks at a place called Amroth, near here.