Abstract
WHEN I was invited to deliver the Huxley Lecture, and I need not say how great a distinction I felt the invitation to be, I thought how much better it would have been if the address could be delivered by one with much longer and more intimate associations with the great man whose memory we have met to honour. My mind at once turned to my friend Sir Ray Lankester, who, when Huxley died, could look back over nearly forty years and write: “There has been no man or woman whom I have met on my journey through life, whom I have loved and regarded as I have him, and I feel that the world has shrunk and become a poor thing, now that his splendid spirit and delightful presence are gone from it. Ever since I was a little boy he has been my ideal and hero.” I would that he could be here to tell us of his abiding memories; but as this cannot be, he has most kindly yielded to the wish of an old friend and has sent a message:-
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POULTON, E. Thomsa Henry Huxley. Nature 115, 704–708 (1925). https://doi.org/10.1038/115704a0
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DOI: https://doi.org/10.1038/115704a0
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