It was not to be expected that he should long remain unknown, and he was sometimes touched, more often bored, by the forms which this recognition took.  Thus two days after his arrival he writes home:—­]

Sitting opposite to me at the table d’hote here is a nice old Scotch lady.  People have found out my name here by this time, and yesterday she introduced herself to me, and expressed great gratitude for the advice I gave to a son of hers two or three years ago.  I had great difficulty in recollecting anything at all about the matter, but it seems the youngster wanted to go to Africa, and I advised him not to, at any rate at present.  However, the poor fellow went, and died, and they seem to have found a minute account of his interview with me in his diary.

[But all were not of this kind.  On the 26th he writes:—­]

I took a three hours’ walk over the moors this morning with nothing but grouse and peewits for company, and it was perfectly delicious.  I am beginning to forget that I have a liver, and even feel mildly disposed to the two fools of women between whom I have to sit every meal.

27th.

...I wish you would come here if only for a few days—­it would do you a world of good after your anxiety and wear and tear for the last week.  And you say you are feeling weak.  Please come and let me take care of you a bit; I am sure the lovely air here would set you up.  I feel better than I have for months...

The country is lovely, and in a few days more all the leaves will be out.  You can almost hear them bursting.  Now come down on Saturday and rejoice the “sair een” of your old husband who is wearying for you.

[Another extract from the same correspondence expresses his detestation for a gross breach of confidence:—­]

April 22.

...I have given Mr. —­ a pretty smart setting down for sending me Ruskin’s letter to him!  It really is iniquitous that such things should be done.  Ruskin has a right to say anything he likes in a private letter and —­ must be a perfect cad to send it on to me.

[The following letter on the ideal of a Paleontological Museum is a specialised and improved version of his earlier schemes on the same subject:—­]

4 Marlborough Place, May 3, 1886.

My dear Foster,

I cannot find Hughes’ letter, and fancy I must have destroyed it.  So I cannot satisfy Newton as to the exact terms of his question.

But I am quite clear that my answer was not meant to recommend any particular course for Cambridge, when I know nothing about the particular circumstances of the case, but referred to what I should like to do if I had carte blanche.

It is as plain as the nose on one’s face (mine is said to be very plain) that Zoological and Botanical collections should illustrate (1) Morphology, (2) Geographical Distribution, (3) Geological Succession.

It is also obvious to me that the morphological series ought to contain examples of all the extinct types in their proper places.  But I think it will be no less plain to any one who has had anything to do with Geology and Paleontology that the great mass of fossils is to be most conveniently arranged stratigraphically.  The Jermyn St. Museum affords an example of the stratigraphical arrangement.