My dear Herbert

I have just published a book on Expression, & I have told my publisher to send you a copy, as I have thought that you might like to read it.¹ Any how I should very much like to recall to you some remembrance of your old friend.

When I think, as I sometimes do with mournful pleasure, of the old jolly days at Barmouth & Cambridge, I feel as if I were some other individual—²

Do you remember giving me anonymously a microscope?³ I can hardly call to mind any event in my life which surprised & gratified me more.

I should very much like to hear a little news about yourself & Mrs Herbert⁴ & your doings & how your health is.

I am one of those wretched beings who ought to be exterminated, namely a confirmed invalid; but as long as I live a quite uniform life I am able to do some daily work in natural history; & this is all that I am good for in this world.

My wife joins in very kind remembrances to yourself & Mrs Herbert. I beg you to let me hear a little news of yourself & believe me | dear old friend | yours very sincerely | Charles Darwin

Can you tell me any thing about Whitley? I have lately seen S. Butler, the author of that clever book Erewhon, & the son of Tom Butler. The latter, as far as I can gather, has become a very unpleasant old man—⁵

P.S. My wife commands me to say, & I can say with perfect truth that this letter gives a false impression if it implies that I am not a happy man—