My dear Darwin

I was rejoiced to see your handwriting again—so much so that I shall not scold you for undertaking the needless exertion (as is my duty to do) of writing to thank me for my book¹

I thought the last Lecture would be nuts for you, but it is really shocking.² There is not the smallest question that Owen wrote both the article ‘Oken’ & the Archetype book, which appeared in its second edition in French— why, I know not— I think if you will look at what I say again there will not be much doubt left on your mind as to the identity of the writer of the two³

The news you give of yourself is most encouraging⁴—but pray don’t think of doing any work again yet.— Careful as I have been during this last winter not to burn the candle at both ends—I have found myself since the pressure of my lectures ceased⁵—in considerable need of quiet & I have been lazy accordingly—

I do not know that I fear, with you, caring too much for Science—for there are lots of other things I should like to go into as well—: but I do lament more & more as time goes on, the necessity of becoming more & more absorbed in one kind of work—a necessity which is created for any one in my position—partly by one’s reputation and partly by one’s children— For directly a man gets the smallest repute in any branch of science the world immediately credits him with knowing about ten times as much as he really does, and he becomes bound in common honesty to do his best to climb up to his reputed place, And then the babies are a devouring fire eating up the present & discounting the future—; they are sure to want all the money one can earn & to be the better for all the credit one can win—⁶

However, I should fare badly without the young Monkies— Your pet Marian is almost as shy as ever though she has left off saying ‘Can’t’—by the way—⁷

My wife is wonderfully well. As I tell her Providence has appointed her to take care of me when I am broken down and decrepit—

I hope you can say as Much of M^rs Darwin—

Pray give her my kind regards | & believe me | Ever yours faithfully | T. H. Huxley