My dearest Nephew,—

This letter will go by to-day’s post, which I believe is the last before the messenger leaves Hanover, and Legations Rath Haase has promised to direct the box for me, so that it is to be called for at Mr. Goltermann’s either by yourself, or somebody who will look to it, that it may come safely to your hands. And I will give you here a list of the contents of the box, by which you will see that I must be very anxious till I know that it is safely come to hand, especially as I was obliged to have the box made very slight on account of saving size and weight.

The parcel directed for my niece contains ornaments which I am afraid will soon be wanted for a general mourning, but I am told they may be worn at any time. Miss Beckedorff chose them for me; my direction was they should be pretty, and not of English manufacture, and not larger than what might be put in the space which I showed her. I am only sorry I could not find anything that might please your dear mother, for, to judge by myself, we want now only ease, quiet, and patience to bear the pains and infirmities attendant on our age; and we are too far asunder for doing more than wishing one another the above-mentioned qualities.

I had intended to have sent my medal along with the books, but since you have presented me with the handsome miniature of your dear Margaretta, from which I cannot part as long as I live, I have mentioned already to Dr. Groskopf that the medal, miniature, and my gold watch (the gift of her grandfather in 1774), are to be sent to my grand-niece and namesake, C. H.

I do not like to send empty paper, but I must. Time falls short, and I am tired already with the thought of the long walk I have to take to carry this letter, for I must see Haase once more, and it is attended with great difficulty to get so heavy a box over at present.

My dearest Nephew,—

I see by my memorandum-book that I sent a letter to your dear mother on the 20th August, partly in answer to one of Miss Baldwin’s, which contained the melancholy account of Miss Isabella [Stewart’s] dangerous state of health. I have ever since been very uneasy, and wishing for more cheering information, because I know what a drawback it would be on the happiness of all your dear connection if you should lose her, besides the interruption it must cause in the hitherto cheerful correspondence in which even my dear niece took the pen to join in affording me the only comfort I am yet capable of receiving....

Tell your dear Margaret that the very day on which the letter arrived, in which she requested some hair, I sent for the hair-dresser and made him cut off all which was useless to me, leaving plenty for a toupee and a little curl in the poll. But I repented not having kept a few out of the plait, which I might have sent in a letter, as I understand it is designed for a talisman against the evils of this hurly-burlying world. But I consoled myself with the thoughts that no harm could possibly assail the dear little creature as long as she is under the care of her affectionate and excellent mother, leaving a loving father out of the account.

Dr. Groskopf has been zum Ritter ernannt by his present Majesty. So was Dr. Mühry last week. If all is betitled in England and Germany, why is not my nephew, J. H., a lord, or a wycount at least (query)? General Komarzewsky used to say to your father, Why does not he (meaning King George III.) make you Duke of Slough?

My dearest Nephew,—

If it was not high time to congratulate you on your birthday—of which I most heartily wish you may enjoy many returns in uninterrupted and increasing happiness—I might have still deferred to thank you for your kind letter and the valuable present of your book. I intend to follow your mother’s example to read it “from end to end,” which I was hitherto not able to do on account of my dim eyes; but now the days are getting longer I think I see better, and to judge by the few pages I have read, that so far from making me go to sleep, it will be an antidote against a propensity for doing so in the daytime.

I much regret my inability to acknowledge my dear niece’s letter in such a manner as might encourage a correspondence with me, but it is difficult to write in a cheerful strain when one is continually in the dismals. I do all I can to keep up my spirits under a daily increase of my infirmities, and have been best part of the winter confined to my rooms. My complaint is incurable, for it is a decay of nature, and nine days after your birthday I am eighty-one. What a shocking idea it is to be decaying! decaying! But never mind—if I am decaying here, there will be, as Mrs. Maskelyne once was comforting me (on observing my growing lean), “the less corruption in my grave!”

22nd.—Some weeks ago I wrote as above, which I intended as a preface to my dying speech, with intention to give you a few hints concerning ——, and indeed I may say of all my German relations, except the Knipping family. If I did not fear that some of them would, after my decease, introduce themselves as troublesome correspondents to you, I would rather write about something else just now, and indeed I had better drop the subject, for you will know, I suppose, how to rid yourself of a pestering fool by answering coolly, or not at all.

23rd, afternoon.—Yesterday I was interrupted again, and the whole morning of the present, which I had intended to spend with you at Slough, has again been taken up with gabbling with my radical servant. But the day after Easter I get another, and I hope I shall have better luck; but till then I am not mistress of my time, therefore will hasten to inform you that Mrs. Beckedorff is packing up a parcel for me, which is going from here the day after Easter.... The packet contains a tablecloth, with twelve napkins (the cloth is eight yards long, Mrs. B. says), which I hope my dear niece will do me the pleasure to accept as a remembrance of her old aunt.

Your book^[43] I have read as far as page 150, and met with nothing but what I clearly can comprehend, and promise myself much pleasure in reading the rest, which hitherto I have been prevented to do by being continually interrupted, and besides not being able to read many pages at a time before the lines run one into another.

My dear niece said in her letter to me your book would cause a sensation, and so it has, as I hear from all quarters. I am told it has been translated into German from a French translation, and much [all in admiration] is appearing in Gelehrten Anzeigen, which I have not yet been able to get a sight of.... I must give over and defer writing till I am provided with pen, ink, and paper. The first thing my radical servant did when she came to me was to break the bottle [containing] the ink of my own making, which was to have lasted me all my life-time.... First and foremost, give my love to your dear mother, and believe me, ever your most affectionate aunt,

O! my dearest niece, where shall I find words which can express my thanks to you for writing me such an interesting letter, at a moment when you were suffering from indisposition!

May 18th.—Dear niece, how are you now? I hope so far well enough to read what I think necessary to say in answer to yours of May 2nd. I was glad to see that you think the table-linen pretty, but I tremble on seeing that you puzzle yourself about sending me anything in return. Nothing would distress me more than receiving anything from England besides such dear letters as I have hitherto been blessed with, for I am provided with even more than is necessary to appear in the best circle of society, whenever my feebleness will permit me to go from home, and I feel no small regret at leaving so many good things among those who do not want it, or ever cared for me. Now, this is once for all! and you have nothing to do but to go by what dear Herschel says—he knows me, I see, better than I thought he did.

I have something to remark about what you call my letters, which were to be deposited in the letter case. I was in hopes you would have thrown away such incoherent stuff, as I generally write in a hurry at those moments when I am sick for want of knowing how it looks at home, and not to let it rise in judgment against my, perhaps, bad grammar, bad spelling, &c., for to the very last I must feel myself walking on uncertain grounds, having been obliged to learn too much without any one thing thoroughly; for my dear brother William was my only teacher, and we began generally with what we should have ended; he, supposing I knew all that went before. Perhaps I might have done so once, but my memory he used to compare with sand, in which everything could be inscribed with ease, but as easily effaced. Some time hence you will see a book^[44] in which I transcribed such lessons as my brother was obliged to give me at such times when I was to set about some calculations of which I knew not much about. I shall this summer collect every scrap of that kind—some written by my brother, and some penned down as they flowed from his lips, and some even incomplete, which were intended to be given more correct when at leisure. I bought a very handsome portfolio for this purpose, and had my nephew’s new seal engraved upon the lock.

I should not have thought of troubling my dear nephew or you with looking over these fragments, but I cannot part with remembrances of times long gone by, so long as life is in me; but for fear I should not have at the last moment the power of burning them, I will keep them ready for being sent off to Slough, for nothing of the kind shall be seen by unhallowed eyes....

My dearest Nephew,—

Just now I received yours of May 22nd, and the next post will not go from here till the 7th, and I wish the wind may be favourable that you may be soon made easy about the £50, for which I beg you will, according to custom, give the above receipt to your dear mother. And you may as well add my heartfelt thanks; for what good can it do troubling her with my letters, knowing the weakness in her hands will not permit her answering them....

... I have laid apart for every possible expense which can occur at my exit. Six years ago I had a vault built in the spot where my parents rest. The ground is mine auf ewig (for ever).

You have made me completely happy for some time with the account you sent me of the double stars; but it vexes me more and more that in this abominable city there is no one who is capable of partaking in the joy I feel on this revival of your father’s name. His observations on double stars were from first to last the most interesting subject; he never lost sight of it in his papers on the construction of the heavens, &c. And I cannot help lamenting that he could not take to his grave with him the satisfaction I feel at present at seeing his son doing him so ample justice by endeavouring to perfect what he could only begin....

... I wish Paganini may make some stay yet in England, that you, or my nephew at least, may hear him. The English cannot be more frantic about him than the Hanoverians were. He filled our play-house twice at double price, and though some part of the orchestra had been thrown into parquet, still gentlemen were scattered among the lamps and squeezed in among the performers on the stage. You will think me the maddest of the mad when I tell you that, after spending three parts of each day in pain and misery, I make one of the audience twice a week, if possibly I can hold up my head; for then I am lulled into forgetfulness of my severed situation from all what was or is still dear to me, and amuse myself sometimes with having my vanity tickled by the notice which is taken of my being or not being present. In The Sun of July 13 is a description of Paganini’s face and looks, which I could not have given better myself after having had some conversation with him (through an interpreter); on coming one evening at the end of a play out of my box, I found some gentlemen waiting to introduce him to me, which I believe was partly done to give the people an opportunity to see him.

I am reading all the Parliamentary speeches as given in The Sun, and there I meet with some excellent ones by a Sir James Mackintosh; pray is he any connexion of your family? In the paper of July 6th I saw a quotation (by a speaker, Mr. E. Lytton Bulwer,) from a celebrated philosopher (meaning our own J. Herschel) who had felicitously observed that “the greatest discoverer in science can do no more than accelerate the progress of discovery.”...

The following letter, from the celebrated Encke, is one of the few preserved which belong to this period, and gives graceful expression to the high esteem in which she was held:—

Madame,—

I feel great pleasure in informing you that the parcel which has been forwarded to me through your kindness is safely arrived here, and has been delivered to Professor Mitscherlich, according to the directions given by your celebrated nephew, J. Herschel.

I hardly know, madame, how to return you my thanks for the trouble you have so kindly taken in transmitting the parcel to me. It would, indeed, have been an irretrievable loss to have been deprived of the excellent treatise written by your eminent nephew, had it not reached its destination.

Allow me, madame, to avail myself of this opportunity to pay my respects to a lady, whose name is so intimately connected with the most brilliant astronomical discoveries of the age, and whose claims to the gratitude of every astronomer will be as conspicuous as your own exertions for extending the boundaries of our knowledge, and for assisting to develope the discoveries by which the name of your great brother has been rendered so famous throughout the literary world.

My dear Sir John,—

But mind, you are still my dear nephew, and will be so good as to give the above to your dear mother. With this last sum, I have actually received since I am here a thousand pounds; a sum which I had no idea (nor I am sure your father neither) you would have been burdened with so long, for when I left England I thought my life was not worth a farthing. But no more of this for the present....

You promised me another Catalogue of double stars, but I suppose you have had no time to arrange them. But do not observe too much in cold weather. Write rather books to make folks stare at your profound knowledge....

Loves and compliments to all whom we love, and God bless my dear nephew, says

P.S.—I received Miss B.’s letter on the 16th. It gave me infinite pleasure to see that Babbage and Brewster have also been honoured with notice. As for the news of my dear nephew’s appointment, she came too late, for on the 9th I was honoured by a note written by the Duke of Cambridge’s own hands, informing me of it.

Dearest Nephew,—

More than two months are elapsed since I was made happy by your dear letter of October 15th.... I hope that perhaps some good account is on its passage and may reach me before the rivers are frozen up, as at this time of the year the posts are often interrupted.

I have of late been very little from home, except two evenings in the week to the play, for I cannot walk the streets without being led, as I cannot trust my eyes to avoid obstacles, besides a total loss of strength; so that the chief connection I keep up with this world depends on what I by imperfect glimpses can gather from the newspaper and a little talk sometimes with Mrs. Beckedorff. But a few weeks ago I exerted myself, fearing if I delayed much longer I might not be able at all to pay my respects to our good Duchess of Cambridge, and I wished to make good a blunder I had committed two years ago, when I was conversing with her at the Landgräfin’s for half an hour together, taking her all the while to be an officer’s lady, as she came accompanied by her brother, the Prince of Hesse, who wore a moustache. It is the case in general, that I do not know my most intimate friends except by their voices. I was, however, very much gratified by my visit. A lady, who is in the habit of going to Court, left my name along with her own with the lady-in-waiting, and the next Sunday we were appointed to be there at half-past one (a very inconvenient hour for me, for I only begin to be alive when other folks go to sleep). But no reception could be more friendly. I was made take my place by her on the sofa, and after some conversation, the little Princess Augusta was called to tell me that she had seen you at Slough; you had shown her the telescope and described how it was moved by the handle round about. I asked her if she had seen the little girls. The Duchess explained that her call had been unexpected, and regretted that she had not had an opportunity of coming to Slough herself. Then the Princess was sent to call her father, whom I presented with your book, and he went to fetch his spectacles, and was much pleased with the subject, saying, “I shall read it, for I like such things.” After I had read the whole book myself—mind, I say the whole, though you recommended me to read only the first and last chapters—and knowing no one who is worthy to look into it, I had it handsomely bound and wrote in the top margin “To His Royal Highness, the Duke of Cambridge.” At the side of Sir Francis Bacon stands “from” and in the margin at the bottom, “Caroline Herschel, aunt of the author.” By this means, I know it secured from contamination in the Duke’s library, where anybody who is desirous of reading it will find it.

My dearest Niece,—

So far I wrote last night, thinking to fill this page to-day, with such news as I should like to communicate to my nephew if he was present; but now all is fled from my memory, for my dear sister is ill, and perhaps still in danger, and my only trust is in your goodness of sending me a speedy account, which may confirm the hope you seem to entertain of her recovery. For there is nothing I so ardently desire as to be spared the pain of mourning for a single individual of those friends I have in England, and how much more it would affect me to lose one so nearly connected, and within a few months of my own age, it may be easily imagined.... Next to listening to the conversation of learned men, I like to hear about them, but I find myself, unfortunately, among beings who like nothing but smoking, big talk on politics, wars, and such like things. Of our German astronomers, I have lately heard nothing; but that, perhaps, is owing to Encke having had the cholera, but of which he soon recovered. Gauss has been long unhappily situated by losing his second wife, who had been long lingering....

... I beg once more for an early assurance of my dear sister’s recovery.

My dearest Nephew,—

My dear niece’s and your letter of January 3rd, have indeed answered your kind intentions, for the painful communication of your last found me prepared, and enabled me to break the black seal with tolerable composure, and I found no small consolation from your description of the easy ending of your dear departed parent.

At this moment, I am incapable of saying anything of myself. I know it cannot be long before I shall follow the dear departed, and my pen would trace nothing but lamentations at the prospect that my remains will not be joined in rest by the side of those with whom I lived so long.

But I beg and trust you will continue to bless me with your good opinion and approbation, until the close, for that I have hitherto been in possession of the same, I conclude from the kind letters I receive from your own hands....

My dearest Niece,—

Your precious letter, which I received this morning, has relieved my mind from the fear that some ill might have befallen my dear friends, because in my solitude the time between January 7th and March 14th, seems to be an age; besides, the last melancholy letters required some soothing subject to think on, for I do nothing else but think of the spot where I once was and never can be again.

But now all is well; your dear letter will make me happy for some time to come, and in my next I will more fully reply to it, when I hope to be more composed than I am just now, as the day after to-morrow will be my birthday, when I, perhaps, enter on my eighty-third year. I am always at the return of that day what one may call “hipt,” and therefore must destroy my thoughts any how as well as I can.

I kept my dear nephew’s birthday last week, the 7th of March, by thinking of you throughout the whole day. When I was at dinner, I made my maid stand opposite to me, and pouring her out a glass of wine, made her say, Sir John Herschel, lebe hoch! (for ever).

But I must hasten to say that which I wish you to know as soon as possible, which is, to beg of all things not to send the parcel the good Miss B. intended for me. I suppose it may consist of some dress of my dear departed sister.... I beg your acceptance of it for a remembrance of us both; it would vex me to add anything I set store on, only to leave it to those I cannot esteem.

I am much obliged to my dear nephew for sending the few pages announcing the publications of the Royal Society. It is only such morsels as these which keep up a desire for living any longer. But the premium of the King of Denmark’s medal, for the discovery of telescopic comets, provokes me beyond all endurance, for it is of no use to me. One of my eyes is nearly dark, and I can hardly find the line again I have just been tracing by feeling on paper.

Pray do not forget me when my nephew’s recension of Mrs. Somerville’s works makes its appearance....

My dearest Nephew,—

My dear niece has promised me your article^[45] on the writings of Mrs. Somerville. I hope she will not forget it, nor you the Catalogue of double stars. Such things make me very happy, but of any expensive publications I would not wish you to throw away upon me now; it makes me only grudge to think of having to leave them in the hands of blockheads. But if you have anything for Göttingen, Encke, or Bessel, it amuses me to forward it. Olbers has been dangerously ill for some time; they tell me he is too fat, and lives too well.

I only write this by way of announcing the parcel, that you may inquire for it should it not come to hand in due time, else I am very tired, and must yet make up the parcel, and I want to show myself once more to-morrow evening at the Oratorio, as it is for the poor, and will be the last performance this season....

... I found my aunt wonderfully well and very nicely and comfortably lodged, and we have since been on the full trot. She runs about the town with me and skips up her two flights of stairs as light and fresh at least as some folks I could name who are not a fourth part of her age.... In the morning till eleven or twelve she is dull and weary, but as the day advances she gains life, and is quite “fresh and funny” at ten or eleven, p.m., and sings old rhymes, nay, even dances! to the great delight of all who see her.... It was only this evening that, escaping from a party at Mrs. Beckedorff’s, I was able to indulge in what my soul has been yearning for ever since I came here—a solitary ramble out of town, among the meadows which border the Leine-strom, from which the old, tall, sombre-looking Markt-thurm and the three beautiful lanthorn-steeples of Hanover are seen as in the little picture I have often looked at with a sort of mysterious wonder when a boy as that strange place in foreign parts that my father and uncle used to talk so much about, and so familiarly. The likeness is correct, and I soon found the point of view.

Yesterday, being the anniversary of Waterloo, there was a great military spectacle here in a large esplanade, where there is erected a tall and very pretty column, with a bronze “Victory” at the top, hopping on one leg. A few guns were fired, a sermon preached, the veil of the statue (shown for the first time) pulled off by the Duke of Cambridge, and a good dinner eaten by 350 personages, of which number I had the honour to be one unit, in a vast saloon in the Herrenhauser Palace, about the length, breadth, and height of St. George’s Hall, at Windsor, the Duke presiding and giving the toasts, &c., in honour of the Waterloo heroes. The saloon was ornamented most curiously with guns, swords, and pikes, arranged in patterns, and with Waterloo trophies, and a panoramic view of the field of Waterloo in compartments. No ladies were admitted to the table, and (what say you to the gallantry of the Hanoverian military?) there was no ball in the evening, nor any the slightest provision for the amusement or participation of the fair. So Mars and Venus, I suppose, have had a “tiff!” Adieu.

My dearest Niece,—

I shall in future, when I have anything to say to my dear nephew address myself to you, well knowing his time is too precious for spending even on reading.... Thank him most heartily for the “Edinburgh Review,” and the description of the wonderful machine.... But here is the grievance—I cannot possibly read the Review, my sight is almost lost, and I must wait till Miss Beckedorff or somebody can read to me.... Dr. Tias, who travelled through Hanover, called on me to-day. He talked strangely about my nephew’s intention of going to the Cape of Good Hope. Mr. Hausmann told me some weeks ago that the Times contained the same report, to which I replied, “It is a lie!” but what I heard from Dr. Tias to-day makes me almost believe it possible. Ja! if I was thirty or forty years younger, and could go too? in Gottes nahmen! But I will not think about it till you yourself tell me more of it, for I have enough to think of my cramps, blindness, sleepless nights, &c.

My dearest Nephew,—

Ever since the 6th of March, the day on which I received my dear niece’s of the 26th of February, I have been enabled to dispel by its comfortable contents the gloomy reflections with which I am on the return of your and my birthdays assailed. But being obliged to spend such days alone, at a distance from all who are dear to us; or, what would be worse, in the presence of beings of uncongenial feelings, one is apt to fall again into the dismals, which the return of the late snow and frosty weather prevented my taking recourse to my usual remedy, which is to turn all grievances into a joke. Your birthday I celebrated exactly like that of 1832, viz., after dinner I jingled glasses with Betty, and made her say, “Es lebe Sir John! hoch!^[46] hurrah!” She went in the kitchen to wash the dishes, and I with a book (a silly novel) in my hand on the sofa asleep!...

I begin to be confused, and had rather say nothing of the thousand things which are running in my head, and which all must be said within the next six months. As yet I can follow your steps and proceedings, for I read the papers—the Globe—and saw that in June is the meeting in Cambridge.... From these papers I also see how all my valuable acquaintances drop off one after another. Captain Kater has lost his wife, the fine singer; Mrs. Parry; Lady Harcourt; your dear mother, are gone—the latter three of my own age, and I must hold out!

I have now the pleasure of thanking my nephew for his valuable book of astronomy, having actually received it by yesterday’s post, and by a kind letter from Professor Schumacher. I learn that I may yet hope to see the promised Catalogue of nebulæ and double stars, to the perusal of which I look forward as a solace during the time you will be on your way far, far from us. But these treasures cause me no little thinking about in whose hands I shall leave them when I cannot see them any longer, but cannot think of anyone I should like to leave them in preference to the Duke of Cambridge.

I cannot find words which would express sufficient thanks to my dear nephew for his last letter, every line of which conveys a comfort.

P.S.—Dear Nephew, as soon as your instrument is erected I wish you would see if there was not something remarkable in the lower part of the Scorpion to be found, for I remember your father returned several nights and years to the same spot, but could not satisfy himself about the uncommon appearance of that part of the heavens. It was something more than a total absence of stars (I believe). But you will have seen by the register that those lower parts could only be marked half swept. I wish you health and good success to all you undertake, and a happy return to a peaceful home in old England. God bless you all!

My dear Niece,—

Eight days are already gone since the arrival of your dear letter of August 21st, and I can hardly muster up composure enough at this moment to reply to it, because my ideas are still, what they ever have been, more occupied with future or past events than what passes immediately about me. At present my thoughts are wholly fixed on the busy scenes with which you are at present surrounded, and regretting that I am not with you to afford you any assistance, or to take charge of my nephew’s workshops, as I used to do of his father’s when absent; or that it is not possible to shake off some thirty years from my shoulders that I might accompany you on your voyage.

In answer to your query about my nephew’s building a grotto of coals I must plead ignorance, but have no doubt many an edifice of that kind has daily been erected and erased without my being present, for my dear nephew was only in his sixth year when I came to be detached from the family circle. But this did not hinder John and I from remaining the most affectionate friends, and many a half or whole holiday he was allowed to spend with me, was dedicated to making experiments in chemistry, where generally all boxes, tops of tea-canisters, pepper-boxes, teacups, &c., served for the necessary vessels, and the sand-tub furnished the matter to be analysed. I only had to take care to exclude water, which would have produced havoc on my carpet. And for his first notion of building I believe he is indebted to me, for it was on his second or third birthday when I lifted him in the trenches to lay the south corner-stone of the building which was added to the original house at Slough. It must have been the second year of his age, for I remember I was obliged to use a deal of coaxing to make him part with the money he was to lay on the brick.

About the same time, when one day I was sitting beside him, listening to his prattle, my attention was drawn by his hammering to see what he might be about, and found that it was the continuation of many days’ labour, and that the ground about the corner of the house was undermined, the corner-stone entirely away, and he was hard at work going on with the next. I gave the alarm, and old John Wiltshire, a favourite carpenter, came running, crying out, “God bless the boy, if he is not going to pull the house down!” (Our John was this man’s pet, he taught him to handle the tools). A bricklayer came directly with brick and mortar to mend the damage.

I was called to my solitary dinner just when I was going to give you a few specimens of my nephew’s poetry; I have some by me, composed when about eight or nine years old, in a most shocking handwriting; but generally about this time I am so sleepy that I think it will be best to give you the continuation in a posthumous letter from C. H. to Lady M. B. Herschel, to be delivered to her on her return from the Cape....

If I only live long enough to have the assurance of your all being well and safely got to the Cape, I will lay down my head in peace.

My paper is not filled, but there is not time for writing more, nor do I like to think about the present; but about a month ago I began a day-book again, which I was in the habit of keeping when in England, and with the contents of that I intend to fill my posthumous letter to you.

God bless you, my dear niece ... and with my love to my dear nephew and yourself,

Dear Sir,—

By recollecting your former obliging kindness to me, I am encouraged once more to intrude on your valuable time by transcribing part of my nephew’s last letter, dated from Portsmouth, November 10th:—“The last proof sheet of my nebulæ paper left my hands the night I left London, and yesterday I got twelve copies to take to the Cape. One will be forwarded to you to-morrow by Lieut. Stratford, R.N., superintendent of the “Nautical Almanac,” who will send it to Prof. Schumacher, to whom, if you do not soon get it, pray write. I have also ordered a duplicate to be sent you by Mr. Hudson, assistant secretary of the Royal Society, and librarian, who will henceforward send you all my papers (in duplicate). My observations on the satellites of Uranus, which confirm my brother’s results, were sent to be put in course of publication last night.”

I have no doubt but that you, Sir, are in correspondence with the above named, but to me unknown, gentlemen, and that those two copies intended for me are only enclosed in a packet with many for yourself.

I long much to see the observations on the Georgian satellites, but doubt their being ready to come with the paper on nebulæ. I beg you will order them to be forwarded to me as soon as you see them yourselves, for I do not flatter myself with the hopes of being much longer for this world, but will be thankful if life is spared me till the end of April, when I hope to receive the assurance of my nephew’s safe arrival with his dear family at the Cape.

Excuse my troubling you so far, and believe me with great regard, dear Sir,