Many thanks for your comforting letter. When I am fairly committed to anything I generally have a cold fit—and your judgment that I have done right is "grateful and comforting" like Epps' Cocoa. It is not so much work as distraction that is involved; and though it may put a stop to my purely scientific work for a while, I don't know that I could be better employed in the interests of science than in trying to keep the Royal Society straight.
My wife was very much against it at first—and indeed when I was first spoken to I declared that I would not go on after next St. Andrew's Day. But a good deal of pressure was brought to bear by some of my friends, and if the Fellows don't turn me out I shall say with MacMahon, "J'y suis et j'y reste."
Ever yours very faithfully,
T.H. Huxley.
We have run down here for a day, but are back to-morrow.
4 Marlborough Place, July 10, 1883.
My dear Spencer,
What an agreeable surprise your letter has been. I have been expecting the most awful scolding for taking more work, and behold as sweetly congratulatory an epistle as a man could wish.
Three weeks ago I swore by all my gods that I would not take the offer at any price, but I suppose the infusion of Theism was too homeopathic for the oath to bind.
Go on sleeping, my dear friend. If you are so amiable with three nights, what will you be with three weeks?