My dear Romanes,--Your letter has perplexed me beyond all measure. I fully recognise the duty of everyone, whose opinion is worth anything, expressing his opinion publicly on vivisection, and this made me send my letter to the 'Times.' I have been thinking at intervals all morning what I could say, and it is the simple truth that I have nothing worth saying. You, and men like you, whose ideas flow freely, and who can express them easily, cannot understand the state of mental paralysis in which I find myself. What is most wanted is a careful and accurate attempt to show what physiology has already done for man, and even still more strongly what there is every reason to believe it will hereafter do. Now I am absolutely incapable of doing this, or of discussing the other points suggested by you. If you wish for my name (and I should be glad that it should appear with that of others in the same cause), could you not quote some sentence from my letter in the 'Times,' which I inclose, but please return it. If you thought fit you might say that you quoted it with my approval, and that, after still further reflection, I still abide most strongly in my expressed conviction. _For Heaven's sake_, do think of this; I do not grudge the labour and thought, but I could write nothing worth anyone's reading. Allow me to demur to your calling your conjoint article a 'symposium,' strictly a 'drinking-party;' this seems to me very bad taste, and I do hope everyone of you will avoid any semblance of a joke on the subject. I know that words like a joke on this subject have quite disgusted some persons not at all inimical to physiology. One person lamented to me that Mr. Simon, in his truly admirable address at the Medical Congress (by far the best thing which I have read), spoke of the 'fantastic sensuality'[34] (or some such term) of the many mistaken, but honest men and women who are half mad on the subject. Do pray try and let me escape, and quote my letter, which in some respects is more valuable, as giving my independent judgment before the Medical Congress. I really cannot imagine what I could say. I will now turn to another subject: my little book on Worms has been long finished, but Murray was so strongly opposed to publishing it at the dead season, that I yielded. I have told the printers to send you a set of clean sheets, which you can afterwards have stitched together. There is hardly anything in it which can interest you. Two or three papers by Hermann Müller have just appeared in 'Kosmos,' which seem to me interesting, as showing how soon, _i.e._ after how many attempts, bees learn how best to suck a new flower; there is also a good and laudatory review of Dr. Roux. I could lend you 'Kosmos' if you think fit. You will perhaps have seen that my poor dear brother Erasmus has just died, and he was buried yesterday here at Down.