and species work was a burden to me. What I cared for was the architectural and engineering part of the business; the working out the wonderful unity of plan in the thousands and thousands of diverse living constructions, and the modifications of similar apparatus to serve diverse ends."
In 1846 Huxley was appointed naturalist to the expedition which was sent to the East under Captain Owen Stanley in the Rattlesnake, and good use, indeed, he made of his opportunities. It is really wonderful, as Sir M. Foster remarks in his excellent obituary notice in the Royal Society's 'Proceedings,' how he could have accomplished so much under such difficulties.
"Working," says Sir Michael Foster, "amid a host of difficulties, in want of room, in want of light, seeking to unravel the intricacies of minute structure with a microscope lashed to secure steadiness, cramped within a tiny cabin, jostled by the tumult of a crowded ship's life, with the scantiest supply of books of reference, with no one at hand of whom he could take counsel on the problems opening up before him, he gathered for himself during those four years a large mass of accurate, important and, in most cases, novel observations, and illustrated them with skilful, pertinent drawings."
The truth is that Huxley was one of those all-round men who would have succeeded in almost any walk in life. In literature his wit, his power of clear description and his admirable style would certainly have placed him in the front rank.
He was as ready with his pencil as with his pen. Every one who attended his lectures will remember how admirably they were illustrated by his blackboard sketches, and how the diagrams seemed to grow line by line almost of themselves. Drawing was, indeed, a joy to him, and when I have been sitting with him at Royal Commissions or on committees, he was constantly making comical sketches on scraps of paper or on blotting-books which, though admirable, never seemed to distract his attention from the subject on hand.
Again, he was certainly one of the most effective speakers of the day. Eloquence is a great gift, although I am not sure that the country might not be better governed and more wisely led if the House of Commons and the country were less swayed by it. There is no doubt, however, that, to its fortunate possessor, eloquence is of great value, and if circumstances had thrown Huxley into political life, no one can doubt that he would have taken high rank among our statesmen. Indeed, I believe his presence in the House of Commons would have been of inestimable value to the country. Mr. Hutton, of the 'Spectator'— no mean judge—has told us that, in his judgment, 'an abler and more accomplished debater was not to be found even in the House of Commons.' His speeches had the same quality, the same luminous style of
