The examination began at eleven. At two they brought in lunch. It was a good meal enough, but the circumstances were not particularly favourable to enjoyment, so after a short delay we resumed our work. It began to be evident between whom the contest lay, and the others determined that I was one man's competitor and Stocks [John Ellerton Stocks, M.D., London, distinguished himself as a botanist in India. He travelled and collected in Beloochistan and Scinde; died 1854.] (he is now in the East India service) the other. Scratch, scratch, scratch! Four o'clock came, the usual hour of closing the examination, but Stocks and I had not half done, so with the consent of the others we petitioned for an extension. The examiner was willing to let us go on as long as we liked. Never did I see man write like Stocks; one might have taken him for an attorney's clerk writing for his dinner. We went on. I had finished a little after eight, he went on till near nine, and then we had tea and dispersed. Great were the greetings I received when I got home, where my long absence had caused some anxiety. The decision would not take place for some weeks, and many were the speculations made as to the probabilities of success. I for my part managed to forget all about it, and went on my ordinary avocations without troubling myself more than I could possibly help about it. I knew too well my own deficiencies to have been either surprised or disappointed at failure, and I made a point of shattering all involuntary "castles in the air" as soon as possible. My worst anticipations were realised. One day S. came to me with a sorrowful expression of countenance. He had inquired of the Beadle as to the decision, and ascertained on the latter's authority that all the successful candidates were University College men, whereby, of course, I was excluded. I said, "Very well, the thing was not to be helped," put my best face upon the matter, and gave up all thoughts of it. Lizzie, too, came to comfort me, and, I believe, felt it more than I did. What was my surprise on returning home one afternoon to find myself suddenly seized, and the whole female household vehemently insisting on kissing me. It appeared an official-looking letter had arrived for me, and Lizzie, as I did not appear, could not restrain herself from opening it. I was second, and was to receive a medal accordingly, and dine with the guild on the 9th November to have it bestowed. [Silver Medal of the Pharmaceutical Society, 9th November 1842. Another botanical prize is a book--"La Botanique," by A. Richard--with the following inscription:-- THOMAE HUXLEY In Exercitatione Botanices Apud Scholam Collegii Sydenhamiensis Optime Merenti Hunc librum dono dedit RICARDUS D. HOBLYN, Botanices Professor.]