If you should come across my article in the "Westminster" (1860) you will find a paragraph on that question near the end. I am writing to Macmillan to send you the volume. Yours very faithfully, T.H. Huxley. By the way, have you ever considered this point, that the variations of which breeders avail themselves are exactly those which occur when the previously wild stocks are subjected to exactly the same conditions? [The rest of the first half of the year is not eventful. As illustrating the sort of communications which constantly came to him, I quote from a letter to Sir J. Donnelly, of January 11:--] I had a letter from a fellow yesterday morning who must be a lunatic, to the effect that he had been reading my essays, thought I was just the man to spend a month with, and was coming down by the five o'clock train, attended by his seven children and his MOTHER-IN-LAW! Frost being over, there was lots of boiling water ready for him, but he did not turn up! Wife and servants expected nothing less than assassination. [Later he notes with dismay an invitation as a Privy Councillor to a State evening party:--] It is at 10.30 P.M., just the time this poor old septuagenarian goes to bed! My swellness is an awful burden, for as it is I am going to dine with the Prime Minister on Saturday. [The banquet with the Prime Minister here alluded to was the occasion of a brief note of apology to Lord Rosebery for having unintentionally kept him waiting:--] Hodeslea, Eastbourne, May 28, 1894. Dear Lord Rosebery, I had hoped that my difficulties in dealing with an overtight scabbard stud, as we sat down to dinner on Saturday had inconvenienced no one but myself, until it flashed across my mind after I had parted from you that, as you had observed them, it was only too probable that I had the misfortune to keep you waiting. I have been in a state of permanent blush ever since, and I feel sure you will forgive me for troubling you with this apology as the only remedy to which I can look for relief from that unwonted affliction. I am, dear Lord Rosebery, yours very faithfully, T.H. Huxley. [All through the spring he had been busy completing the chapter on Sir Richard Owen's work, which he had been asked to write by the biographer of his old opponent, and on February 4 tells Sir J.D. Hooker:--] I am toiling over my chapter about Owen, and I believe his ghost in Hades is grinning over my difficulties. The thing that strikes me most is, how he and I and all the things we fought about belong to antiquity. It is almost impertinent to trouble the modern world with such antiquarian business.