With his hearers Huxley was most sympathetic. He always assumed absolute ignorance on their part, and took nothing for granted. (This was a maxim on lecturing, adopted from Faraday.) When time permitted, he would remain after a lecture to answer questions; and in connection with his so doing his wonderful power of gauging and rising to a situation, once came out most forcibly. Turning to a student, he asked, "Well, I hope you understood it all." "All, sir, but one part, during which you stood between me and the blackboard," was the reply: the rejoinder, "I did my best to make myself clear, but could not render myself transparent." Quick of comprehension and of action, he would stand no nonsense. The would-be teacher who, wholly unfitted by nature for educational work, was momentarily dismissed, realised this, let us hope to his advantage. And the man suspected of taking notes of Huxley's lectures for publication unauthorised, probably learned the lesson of his life, on being reminded that, in the first place, a lecture was the property of the person who delivered it, and, in the second, he was not the first person who had mistaken aspiration for inspiration. Though candid, Huxley was never unkind... Huxley never forgot a kindly action, never forsook a friend, nor allowed a labour to go unrewarded. In testimony to his sympathy to those about him and his self-sacrifice for the cause of science, it may be stated that in the old days, when the professors took the fees and disbursed the working expenses of the laboratories, he, doing this at a loss, would refund the fees of students whose position, from friendship or special circumstances, was exceptional. As for his lectures and addresses to the public, they used to be thronged by crowds of attentive listeners. Huxley's public addresses (writes Professor Osborn) always gave me the impression of being largely impromptu; but he once told me: "I always think out carefully every word I am going to say. There is no greater danger than the so-called INSPIRATION OF THE MOMENT, which leads you to say something which is not exactly true, or which you would regret afterwards." Mr. G.W. Smalley has also left a striking description of him as a lecturer in the seventies and early eighties.