this wide world worth caring for, and a man might (whether he could is
another question) work away like a Trojan. I hope in a few days to get
my brains in order, and then I will pick out all your orchid letters,
and return them in hopes of your making use of them...

Of all the carpenters for knocking the right nail on the head, you are
the very best; no one else has perceived that my chief interest in my
orchid book has been that it was a "flank movement" on the enemy. I
live in such solitude that I hear nothing, and have no idea to what you
allude about Bentham and the orchids and species. But I must enquire.

By the way, one of my chief enemies (the sole one who has annoyed me),
namely Owen, I hear has been lecturing on birds; and admits that all
have descended from one, and advances as his own idea that the oceanic
wingless birds have lost their wings by gradual disuse. He never alludes
to me, or only with bitter sneers, and coupled with Buffon and the
"Vestiges."

Well, it has been an amusement to me this first evening, scribbling as
egotistically as usual about myself and my doings; so you must forgive
me, as I know well your kind heart will do. I have managed to skim the
newspaper, but had not heart to read all the bloody details. Good God!
What will the end be? Perhaps we are too despondent here; but I must
think you are too hopeful on your side of the water. I never believed
the "canards" of the army of the Potomac having capitulated. My good
dear wife and self are come to wish for peace at any price. Good night,
my good friend. I will scribble on no more.

One more word. I should like to hear what you think about what I say
in the last chapter of the orchid book on the meaning and cause of the
endless diversity of means for the same general purpose. It bears on
design, that endless question. Good night, good night!

LETTER 140. TO C. LYELL. 1, Carlton Terrace, Southampton, August 22nd
[1862].

You say that the Bishop and Owen will be down on you (140/1. This refers
to the "Antiquity of Man," which was published in 1863.): the latter
hardly can, for I was assured that Owen, in his lectures this spring,
advanced as a new idea that wingless birds had lost their wings by
disuse. (140/2. The first paragraph of this letter was published in
"Life and Letters," II., pages 387, 388.) Also that magpies stole
spoons, etc., from a remnant of some instinct like that of the
bower-bird, which ornaments its playing pa