TO THOMAS POOLE, ESQ.
Park Street, January 1, 1828.
MY DEAR FRIEND,
I write to you immediately, because that part of your letter which relates to Mr. Baker's pursuits interests me very much: but before I begin on this subject, I will give you a short bulletin of the state of my health. I go on much as I did at Stowey, and my physicians have made no alterations in the plan of treatment: I am not worse, and they tell me I shall be better. Now for Mr. Baker—I am very glad that he is occupied with those enquiries. I am particularly anxious for information on the generation of eels; it is an unsolved problem since the time of Aristotle. I am sure that all eels come from the sea, where they are bred; but there may be one or two species or varieties of them. What Mr. Baker says about the difference between the common eel and the conger is well worthy of attention; but I have known changes more extraordinary than the obliteration, or destruction, of a small tubular member occasioned by difference of habits.
Were the salt-water eels and the fresh-water eels which he examined of the same size? Many individuals of various sizes should be examined to establish the fact of their specific difference. This would be the season for examining the genital organs of eels, for they breed in winter; and were I a little better, I should go to the sea for the purpose of making enquiries on the subject.
Sir Everard Home is firmly convinced that the animal is hermaphrodite and impregnates itself: this, though possible, appears to me very strange in so large an animal. If Mr. Baker will determine this point, I can promise him an immortality amongst our philosophical anglers and natural historians; and if he will give us the history of water-flies, imitated by fly-fishers, he will command our immediate gratitude.
Pray communicate this letter to him with my best wishes, and with my hopes that his talents, which are very great, will be applied to enlighten us.
I can give you no news; the weather is dreadful, and the blacks and yellows are descending in fog. I long for the fresh air of your mountains.
God bless you, my dear Poole. Many—many happy new years to you. Pray remember me, with the compliments of this day, to your excellent neighbours at Stowey. Your affectionate friend,
H. Davy.