Dear Mr Darwin,

Pray accept of my warm thanks for your very very kind remembrance of me, and for the copy of the 2^d. edition of “The Descent of Man”.¹ I see it contains additions of great interest, and have read the preface and begun to go over the text.

I cannot help being struck by the notion that some “od force” of a psychical kind—or current of “animal magnetism”²—from my side, has tended to bring me this welcome renewal of your favour, otherwise so disproportionate to its very trifling deserts. It seems to me a curious coincidence that I had been three or four times on the point of writing to you on some slight pretext—each time deterred by the thought of troubling you. The night before I got your note, I had brought my courage to the decision of doing so that very morning, with the extract from a newspaper which I now send in the idea that it may amuse you, if you have not already chanced to see it. It appears to me immensely good. I venture to ask that you would return it at your leisure.³ It has to my mind a value beyond the mere fun of the occasion.

I had seen it stated that you were about to publish some other new work—(which was one of the occasions above referred to, for wishing to ask how your health stood under so wonderful a continuance of labour.) Another was the reported movement of the St Andrew’s University, near here, to endeavour to have their Rectorship made known in the world by connection with your name⁴—(which, however, was felt to be too much to aspire to, considering the relative positions—though it is certainly extraordinary to what heights of self-assurance a Scotch constituency will rise, since Edinburgh first attempted to make Macaulay its delegate to Parliament, as I well remember.).⁵ If it had seemed anything more than a Utopian imagination on the part of the students and Professors, I was desirous to have written to you a word or two in favour of the country hereabouts—hyperborean though it is—in the hope that you might at least think of it for an actual visit.

As to the Greyhound business⁶—I waited and waited in vain for the promised returns of my Irish correspondent, Mr [Magahan], breeder of the famous “Master Magrath”—notwithstanding a reminder from me, after his cordial offers (which might have been called really “gushing”.⁷ An English coursing-man of noted position (whose name I forget) failed me in a similar way, though professedly willing. So did a third authority, on whom I had counted. In fact, this union of desire with incapacity, and the ultimate refuge taken in utter silence—are singularly characteristic of sporting men. One intelligent gamekeeper like Rayner—whose well-meant but inadequate attempts were given to the object⁸—is worth a dozen of them—for no false shame has to be dealt with in cases like his. For my own part, I must say I was ashamed to write further to you about it—at all events had nothing to justify writing again.

Would it not be desirable to take every opportunity, in published works on Natural History, of pressing upon sporting men, on their gamekeepers also, and their other servants—and on stock-breeders and others in that line—that they should not only observe carefully, but keep accurate records; being assured of the fact that these latter may at any time become important. This habit has scarcely begun yet. Your works have laid the foundation for its exercise.

In this connection I may say that if there is any point on which statistics are specially required, I know of several persons in various parts of the world who would gladly look out for them. In particular, I have had visits lately from two young Science Professors going out to the new Otago University—whose services could be commanded.⁹

In haste for post | yours ever truly— | George Cupples

to Chas. Darwin, Esq^re.

P.S. Kindest regards from my wife to Mrs Darwin and yourself.¹⁰