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 passage with pretty feathers. Indeed, I am told that he hinted
plainly that all birds are descended from one. What an unblushing man he
must be to lecture thus after abusing me so, and never to have openly
retracted, or alluded to my book!