But it's worse than opium-eating—once begun and you must go on, and so, though I ascribe my own good condition mainly to the care my wife takes of me, I dare not recommend it to you, lest perchance you should get hold of the wrong medicine.
Beyond spending a night awake now and then I am in very good order, and
I am going to spend my vacation in a spasmodic effort to lick the
"Manual" into shape and work off some other arrears.
My wife is very fairly well, and, I trust, finally freed from all the symptoms which alarmed me so much. I dread the coming round of September for her again, but it must be faced.
The babbies are flourishing; and beyond the facts that we have a lunatic neighbour on one side and an empty house on the other, that it has cost me about twice as much to get into my house as I expected, that the cistern began to leak and spoil a ceiling, and such other small drawbacks, the new house is a decided success.
I forget whether I gave you the address, which is—
26 Abbey Place, St. John's Wood.
You had better direct to me there, as after the 10th of this month I shall not be here for six weeks.
Ever yours faithfully,
T.H. Huxley.
[October shows an unusual entry in his diary; the sacrifice of a working evening to hear Jenny Lind sing. Fond though he was of music, as those may remember who ever watched his face at the Sunday evening gatherings in Marlborough Place in the later seventies, when there was sure to be at least a little good music or singing either from his daughters or some of the guests, he seldom could spare the time for concert-going or theatre-going, and the occasional notes of his bachelor days, "to the opera with Spencer," had ceased as his necessary occupations grew more engrossing.