But I assure you that writing is a perfect pest to me unless I am interested, and not only a bore but a very slow process. I have some popular lectures on Physiology, which have been half done for more than a twelvemonth, and I hate the sight of them because the subject no longer interests me, and my head is full of other matters. [See letter of April 22, 1863.] So I have just done giving a set of lectures to working-men on "The Various Races of Mankind," which really would make a book in Miss Emma's sense of the word, and which I have had reported. But when am I to work them up? Twenty-four Hunterian Lectures loom between me and Easter. I am dying to get out the second volume of the book that is not a book, but in vain. I trust you are better, though the last news I had of you from Lubbock was not so encouraging as I could have wished. With best wishes and remembrances to Mrs. Darwin. Ever yours, T.H. Huxley. Thanks for "fur Darwin," I had it. 26 Abbey Place, January 15, 1865. My dear Darwin, Many thanks for Deslongchamps' paper which I do not possess. I received another important publication yesterday morning in the shape of a small but hearty son, who came to light a little before six. The wife is getting on capitally, and we are both greatly rejoiced at having another boy, as your godson ran great risks of being spoiled by a harem of sisters. The leader in the "Reader" IS mine, and I am glad you like it. The more so as it has got me into trouble with some of my friends. However, the revolution that is going on is not to be made with rose-water. I wish if anything occurs to you that would improve the scientific part of the "Reader," you would let me know as I am in great measure responsible for it. I am sorry not to have a better account of your health. With kind remembrances to Mrs. Darwin and the rest of your circle. Ever yours faithfully, T.H. Huxley. Jermyn Street, May 1, 1865. My dear Darwin, I send you by this post a booklet none of which is much worth your reading, while of nine-tenths of it you may say as the man did who had been trying to read Johnson's "Dictionary," "that the words were fine, but he couldn't make much of the story." [Probably "A Catalogue of the Collection of Fossils in the Museum of Practical Geology," etc.] But perhaps the young lady who has been kind enough to act as taster of my books heretofore will read the explanatory notice, and give me her ideas thereupon (always recollecting that almost the whole of it was written in the pre-Darwinian epoch.) I do not hear very good accounts of you--to my sorrow--though rumours have reached me that the opus magnum is completely developed though not yet born. [On "Pangenesis."] I am grinding at the mill and getting a little tired. My belongings flourishing as I hope you are. Ever yours faithfully, T.H. Huxley. Jermyn Street, May 29, 1865. My dear Darwin,