Beg my colleague, Mrs. Huxley, not to forget the corrugator supercilii: it will not be easy to catch the exact moment when the child is on the point of crying, and is struggling against the wrinkling up [of] its little eyes; for then I should expect the corrugator, from being little under the command of the will, would come into play in checking or stopping the wrinkling. An explosion of tears would tell nothing. LETTER 410. TO FRANCIS GALTON. Down, December 23rd [1870?]. I have only read about fifty pages of your book (to the Judges) (410/1. "Hereditary Genius: an Inquiry into its Laws and Consequences," by Francis Galton, London, 1869. "The Judges of England between 1660 and 1865" is the heading of a section of this work (page 55). See "Descent of Man" (1901), page 41.), but I must exhale myself, else something will go wrong in my inside. I do not think I ever in all my life read anything more interesting and original. And how well and clearly you put every point! George, who has finished the book, and who expressed himself just in the same terms, tells me the earlier chapters are nothing in interest to the later ones! It will take me some time to get to these later chapters, as it is read aloud to me by my wife, who is also much interested. You have made a convert of an opponent in one sense, for I have always maintained that, excepting fools, men did not differ much in intellect, only in zeal and hard work; and I still think [this] is an eminently important difference. I congratulate you on producing what I am convinced will prove a memorable work. I look forward with intense interest to each reading, but it sets me thinking so much that I find it very hard work; but that is wholly the fault of my brain, and not of your beautifully clear style. LETTER 411. TO W.R. GREG. March 21st [1871?].