From H. E. Litchfield to Horace Darwin   [1 March 1873]

Dear Jemmy—

Many thanks for your letter— I am glad to hear you have got me a mule cloth.— I shan’t mind the gaudiness— I likes colour—& I am very glad also to hear you think you will manage some pots for us to share— It is very provoking you & poor George can’t be bad together. It has never let you have one cheerful week since you’ve been out— I think you are very patient by your letters—

I’m very Cock a hoop to be able to date this letter the last day of winter & not to have had one collapse or bad cold. I now hope to go on safely—& if I do I’m convinced it is all superhuman coddling. It is v. tiresome to coddle but it is so much better worth while than to be sick I don’t care.

I’m rather full of singing classes just now—& consider getting on with solfaing my most important duty. I may say I belong to three classes The Home Class as we call it—W.M.C. & the Spottys. It is such good fun singing in parts. I wish you’d learn a little when you come home— The Home class is getting on. They are not a bit afraid of singing out—& Louisa especially is earnest & eager. She is such a nice little woman—tho’ not pretty. I feel quite inspirited about my household. I’d got to wonder whether I was a bad manager & shd have a Huxley blight upon me—& moreover I had to stand daily comparison between club potatoes & QQQQ—but I now find good & cheap potatoes grow in Spitalfields & I am consequently a happier woman.

I’ve just finished with the Home class & so shall write a little more & then go to bed. R. has gone off to hear some of the music of the future   I didn’t feel up for it after my Spotty Singing Class. We have found a house for the parents close by here— Such funny people let houses— This is a “commercial lady”— I wonder what that means— There is no visible commerce in the shape of a brass door plate—& the cautious R feels a distrust of anybody who has such a queer named & secret profession   She is very confidential & tells me her son is in business—but it is not of a character wich makes him leave home before 6QQQQ o’clock. The daughter takes singing lessons in a dressing gown—& they keep a page boy who apparently never indulges in clean linen. I’m obliged to write what trash I can think of cos I know it is only my own personal days that you don’t know of—

The Frank Galtons have been calling here today— He has got a new scheme in hand. By the way tell Geo he says “skedule” just like I do— It is to get the heights & complexion of all the married people he can so as to know the range & degree to which contrast acts as a deterrent or as a stimulus. He thinks he can show that it would have important bearings on the progress of the race as to whether such extremes (& presumably in others of which you can’t get statistics) always tend to meet & so keep the race constant or to intermarry & so encourage variations— He must have a boundless love of research & bump of curiosity— He told me once that he used to go & see over every house in London that was to let & the conclusion he came to is just mine that the people who have houses to let are very funny in their habits & customs. Perhaps I’ve told you all this & about our dinner at the [Halls] where Ernest’s friend Macdonald got idiotically tipsy & broke an old Grecian vase of great value. The Galtons were very admiratory of our house as indeed most people are or pretend to be. It is such a pity I think that the Hensleighs seem to have tried to make their drawing room ugly— William is very sad over it—

Now goodnight dear Jemmy. Any affair is better than none so I hope you’ll like this hasty scrattle & that it will taste of Bryanston & R. & I think a deal about you both—

Ever your | H.E.L.