On the 17th of February I left a proof of my _Grenzboten_ article on Bunsen at the Imperial Chancellor’s palace for submission to the Prince. It was in an envelope and signed “Moritz Busch,” but was accompanied by no letter. I ascertained at the same time from the porter that the Chancellor had not been quite well for some time past. On my way back through the Leipzigerstrasse I met Bucher, who was delighted with “the fine goings-on in England now.” I asked what he meant, and he replied: “Why, the Standing Orders in Parliament, the Closure. Our people may well ask themselves whether they are equally pleased with this new feature in their ideal.” The extracts from Taine, properly grouped and spiced with references to the German connections of the Jacobins, namely the Progressists, appeared in Nos. 7 and 9 of the _Grenzboten_ under the title “The True Story of the Jacobins.” I also wrote an article on Gladstone’s measure referred to by Bucher. This was published in No. 10 of the _Grenzboten_ under the title, “Gladstone, and Liberty of Speech in Parliament.” On the 10th of March I received the news of the death of our son John, from Captain Alm of the _Dora Ahrens_ at Falmouth. He had died at sea on the 19th of December last, on the return voyage from Corinto, in Nicaragua. Falling overboard during a violent storm in the vicinity of the Falkland Islands, he was unable to hold on to the rope which was thrown to him, and was swallowed up in the waves. With him, our only son, disappeared my best love, my energy and pleasure in work, my pride and my hope. Henceforth my life is overshadowed by this grief. He was only thirty-one years of age, had lived the hard life of the sailor, and passed two severe examinations, so that we had reason to hope that we should soon see him the captain of a handsome craft. Now he lies at the bottom of a distant sea, and all that remains of him is the memory of his dear face and his brave, high-minded nature. Fearless, truthful, and devoted to his duty, he died as he had lived in the service of his ship, as the soldier dies for his flag, his king and his country. He was a man, a character, and death has no power over such! God has further use of them. But we shall never see him again with mortal eyes, and can only wreathe his portrait with laurels and forget-me-nots on his birthday, the 13th of April. “Lass mich im düstern Reich, Mutter, mich nicht allein!” “Nicht allein! Wo Du auch weilest. Ach! Wenn Du dem Tag enteilest, Wird kein Herz von Dir sich trennen.”[4] All our friends manifested the greatest sympathy for us, in which the Imperial Chancellor also did not fail to join. He wrote me on the 16th of March:-- “My Dear Sir,--I have heard with sincere regret of the heavy loss which you have suffered, and although I have no consolation to offer in such circumstances, I cannot refrain from expressing to you my heartfelt sympathy. “Bismarck.”