Whether it is matrimony or whether it is middle age I don't know, but as time goes on you can combine both.
I cannot but accept your kind offer to send me Fanny Lewald's works, though it is a shame to rob you of them. In return my wife insists on your studying a copy of Tennyson, which we shall send you as soon as we return to civilisation, which will be next Friday. If you are in London after that date we shall hope to see you once more before you return to the bosom of the "Fatherland."
I did my best to give the children your message, but I fear I failed ignominiously in giving the proper bovine vocalisation to "Mroo."
That small curly-headed boy Harry, struck, I suppose by the kindness you both show to children, has effected a synthesis between you and Tyndall, and gravely observed the other day, "Doctor Dohrn-Tyndall do say Mroo."
My wife…Sends her kind regards. The "seven" are not here or they would vote love by acclamation.
Ever yours very faithfully,
T.H. Huxley.
[He did not this year attend the British Association, which was held in Dundee. This was the first occasion on which an evening was devoted to a working men's lecture, a step important as tending towards his own ideal of what science should be:—not the province of a few, but the possession of the many.
This first lecture was delivered by Professor Tyndall, who wrote him an account of the meeting, and in particular of his reconciliation with Professors Thomson (Lord Kelvin) and Tait, with whom he had had a somewhat embittered controversy.
In his reply, Huxley writes:—]