My dear Fox

Here we are in a state of profound idleness, which to me is a luxury; & we sh^d all, I believe, have been in a state of high enjoyment, had it not been for the detestable cold gales & much rain, which always gives much ennui to children, away from their homes.— I received your letter of the 13^th of June when working like a slave with M^r. Sowerby at drawing for my second volume, & so put off answering it till when I knew I sh^d. be at leisure. I was extremely glad to get your letter: I had intended a couple of months ago sending you a savage or supplicating jobation to know how you were, when I met Sir P. Egerton,² who told me you were well, &, as usual, expressed his admiration of your doings, especially your farming & the number of animals, including children, which you kept on your land.— Eleven children ave maria! it is a serious look out for you. Indeed I look at my five boys as something awful & hate the very thought of professions &c: if one could insure moderate health for them it w^d. not signify so much, for I cannot but hope with the enormous emigration professions will somewhat improve. But my bug-bear is heredetary weakness. I particularly like to hear all that you can say about education: & you deserve to be scolded for saying “you did not mean to torment me with a long yarn”.—

You ask about Rugby:³ I like it very well, on the same principle as my neighbour Sir J. Lubbock likes Eton, viz that it is not worse than any other school: the expence with all &c &c including some clothes, travelling expences &c is from ^£110 to ^£120 per annum: I do not think schools are so wicked as they were, & far more industrious. The Boys, I think, live too secluded in their separate studies; & I doubt whether they will get so much knowledge of character, as Boys used to do, & this in my opinion is the one good of public schools over small schools. I sh^d. think the only superiority of a small school over home was forced regularity in their work, which your Boys perhaps get at your home, but which I do not believe my Boys w^d. get at my home. Otherwise it is quite lamentable sending Boys so early in life from their home. I think of bringing up my eldest Boy as an Attorney; & my second, who has a mechanical turn & is very active minded, as an Engineer.—⁴

To return to schools, my main objection to them, as places of education, is the enormous proportion of time spent over classics. I fancy, (though perhaps it is only fancy) that I can perceive the ill & contracting effect on my eldest Boy’s mind, in checking interest in anything in which reasoning & observation comes into play. mere memory seems to be worked.— I shall certainly look out for some school, with more diversified studies for my younger Boys.⁵ I was talking lately to the Dean of Hereford,⁶ who takes most strongly this view: & he tells me that there is a school at Hereford commencing on this plan: & that D^r. Kennedy at Shrewsbury is going to begin vigorously to modify that school; but I rather mistrust D^r. K^’s. judgment.⁷

I have some fears whether any school will do for my second Boy, as his health has lately failed rather; & a very irregular pulse, (though not resulting from any heart complaint) I fear shows that the weakness is deep-seated.—⁸

I am extremely glad to hear that you approved of my cirripedial volume:⁹ I have spent an almost ridiculous amount of labour on the subject & certainly w^d. never have undertaken it, had I foreseen what a job it was: I hope to have finished by the end of the year.—¹⁰ Do write again before a very long time: it is a real pleasure to me to hear from you. Farewell with my wifes kindest remembrances to yourself & M^rs Fox.

My dear old friend. Yours affectionately | C. Darwin

I am reading F. Galton’s book & like it very much.—¹¹

P.S. I had not sealed up this letter an hour, before I saw with the utmost concern & astonishment the deaths in your house:¹² I most deeply hope that your own children have escaped this most fearful illness. I did doubt about sending off this letter till knowing how your own children were; but it need not be read.¹³ Do pray sometime tell me how far you have escaped. And I fear your wife must just have been confined.—¹⁴