listen to my report on them. But the _great_
delight of those days was the arrival of a letter from Darwin! Lyell was
the recipient of many honours, and he declined many more, when he feared
that they might interfere with the work to which he had devoted his
life, but the distinction he prized most of all was that conferred on
him by his life-long friend, who used to address him as 'My dear old
Master,' and subscribe himself 'Your affectionate pupil.'

During the seven years that elapsed after the death of Lyell, I saw
Darwin from time to time, for he loved to hear 'what was doing' in his
'favourite science.' On board the _Beagle_, before he had met the man
whose life and work were to be so closely linked with his own, he was in
the habit of specially treasuring up any 'facts that would interest Mr
Lyell'; in middle life he declared that 'when seeing a thing never seen
by Lyell, one yet saw it partially through his eyes[152]'; and never, I
think, did we meet after the friend was gone, without the oft repeated
query, 'What would Lyell have said to that?'

These reminiscences of the past, in which I have ventured to indulge,
may not inappropriately conclude with a reference to the last interview
I was privileged to have with him, who was 'the noblest Roman of them
all!' On the occasion of his last visit to London, in December, 1881,
Charles Darwin wrote asking me to take lunch with him at his daughter's
house, and to have 'a little talk' on geology. Greatly was I surprised
at the vigour which he showed on that afternoon, for, contrary to his
usual practice, he did not interrupt the conversation to retire and rest
for a time, though I suggested the desirability of his doing so, and
offered to stay. His brightness and animation, which were perhaps a
little forced, struck me as so unusual that I laughingly suggested that
he was 'renewing his youth.' Then a slight shade passed over his
countenance--but only for a moment--as he told me that he had 'received
his warning.' The attack, to which his son has alluded, as being the
prelude to the end[153], had occurred during this visit to town; and he
intimated to me that he knew his heart was seriously affected. Never
shall I forget how, seeing my concern, he insisted on accompanying me to
the door, and how, with the ever kindly smile on his countenance, he
held my hand in a prolonged grasp, that I sadly felt might perhaps be
the last. And so it proved.

And now all the world is