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Henslow had been pleasant enough, but a little flippant after the election. From London he had promised to write to Mr. Bullsom, as chairman of his election committee, mapping out the course of action which, in pursuance of his somewhat daring pledges, he proposed to embark upon. This was more than a month ago, and there had come not a single word from him.

"By the bye, Brooks," he remarked, "one doesn't hear much of your man Henslow." "Mr. Bullsom and I were talking about it this evening," Brooks answered. "We are getting a little anxious. "You have had seven years of him. You ought to know what to expect." "The war has blocked all legislation," Brooks said. "It has been the usual excuse. Henslow was bound to wait.

What I can't understand is how people can swallow such stuff, election after election. Doesn't every Radical candidate get up and talk in the same maudlin way hasn't he done so for the last fifty years? And when he gets into Parliament is there a more Conservative person on the face of the earth than the Radical member pledged to social reform? It's the same with your man Henslow.

These men and others of the same standing, together with Henslow, used sometimes to take distant excursions into the country, which I was allowed to join, and they were most agreeable.

He accordingly, at the end of 1836, took lodgings for three months in Fitzwilliam Street, Cambridge, so as to be near Henslow; and in studying and determining his geological specimens received much valuable aid from the eminent crystallographer and mineralogist, Professor William Hallows Miller.

On returning home from my short geological tour in North Wales, I found a letter from Henslow, informing me that Captain Fitz-Roy was willing to give up part of his own cabin to any young man who would volunteer to go with him without pay as naturalist to the Voyage of the "Beagle". I have given, as I believe, in my MS. Journal an account of all the circumstances which then occurred; I will here only say that I was instantly eager to accept the offer, but my father strongly objected, adding the words, fortunate for me, "If you can find any man of common sense who advises you to go I will give my consent."

Clarke attacked me savagely at the Cambridge Philosophical Society, but Henslow defended me well, though not a convert. Phillips has since attacked me in a lecture at Cambridge; Sir W. Jardine in the Edinburgh New Philosophical Journal, Wollaston in the Annals of Nat. History, A. Murray before the Royal Soc. of Edinburgh, Haughton at the Geological Society of Dublin, Dawson in the Canadian Nat.

This was my friendship with Professor Henslow. Before coming up to Cambridge, I had heard of him from my brother as a man who knew every branch of science, and I was accordingly prepared to reverence him. He kept open house once every week when all undergraduates, and some older members of the University, who were attached to science, used to meet in the evening.

The significance of his speech was not immediately apparent. "Henslow! Oh, yes. Committee meeting this afternoon, wasn't it?" some one remarked. "I do not mean Henslow," Mr. Bullsom replied. "I mean Kingston Brooks." The desired sensation was apparent. "Why, he's your new agent, isn't he?" "Young fellow who plays cricket rather well." "Great golfer, they say!"

The theory is thus only a different application of natural selection; Professor Henslow, on the other hand, stands alone in denying the selection, and believing that the insects directly developed the scents, honeys, colours, and shapes by mechanical irritation.