The review included the following rather over-the top praise:
Darwin, the man, is one of the most loveable characters in the annals of the nineteenth century: when he is breeding pigeons or meeting with pigeon fanciers, when he is watching orchids or barnacles or experimenting, with the aid of a tender young lady, upon the emotions of an infant, he is like some great earth-god mingling with his own creations: his patience, his single-minded devotion, his tireless communion with nature, put him at the head of that great company of naturalists who have made man at home in a world so long foreign; and have increased the sympathy of human beings with the whole lineage of organic creation.
I love it. It almost makes me want to get a copy of Darwin's book on the emotions so I can learn more about the tender young lady.
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