I write this not that I imagine you would think of going, but because my last note spoke so decidedly of my own intention. But who could have anticipated this sudden reversion to Arctic conditions! Ever yours affectionately, T.H. Huxley. Hodeslea, Eastbourne, March 18, 1892. My dear Donnelly, My wife got better and was out for a while yesterday, but she is knocked up again to-day. It would have been very pleasant to see you both, but you must not come down till we get fixed with a new cook and maid, as I believe we are to be in a week or so. None of your hotel-going! I mourn over the departure of the present cookie--I believe she is going for no other reason than that she is afraid the house will fall on such ungodly people as we are, and involve her in the ruins. That is the modern martyrdom--you don't roast infidels, but people who can roast go to the pious. Lovely day to-day, nothing but east wind to remind one it is not summer.--Crocuses coming out at last. Ever yours very faithfully, T.H. Huxley. Hodeslea, Eastbourne, March 27, 1892. My dear Hooker, I had to run up to town on Friday and forgot your letter. The x is a puzzle--I will stick by the ship as long as you do, depend upon that. I fear we can hardly expect to see dear old Tyndall there again. As for myself, I dare not venture when snow is on the ground, as on the last two occasions. And now, I am sorry to say, there is another possible impediment in my wife's state of health. I have had a very anxious time of it altogether lately. But sich is life! My sagacious grand-daughter Joyce (gone home now) observed to her grandmother some time ago--"I don't want to grow up." "Why don't you want to grow up?" "Because I notice that grown-up people have a great deal of trouble." Sagacious philosopheress of 7! Ever yours affectionately, T.H. Huxley. Hodeslea, Eastbourne, April 3, 1892. My dear Hooker, As I so often tell my wife, "your confounded sense of duty will be the ruin of you." You really, club or no club, had no business to be travelling in such a bitter east wind. However, I hope the recent sunshine has set you up again. Barring snow or any other catastrophe, I will be at "the Club" dinner on the 26th and help elect the P.R.S. I don't think I go more than once a year, and like you I find the smaller the pleasanter meetings. I was very sorry to see Bowman's death. What a first-rate man of science he would have been if the Professorship at King's College had been 1000 pounds a year. But it was mere starvation when he held it. I am glad to say that my wife is much better--thank yours for her very kind sympathy. I was very down the last time I wrote to you. Ever yours affectionately, T.H. Huxley. Hodeslea, June 27, 1892. My dear Foster, My wife has been writing to Mrs. Foster to arrange for your visit, which will be heartily welcome.