By his first wife, Niebuhr had no family. His second, _Gretchen_ as she is affectionately called—and who, we may observe in passing, is described as equally amiable, though not quite so intellectual or cultivated as the first—brought him several children, one son and three daughters. The birth of his son, April 1817, was an event which gave him the keenest delight, and kindled in all their fervour his naturally ardent affections. It was the first thing, we are told, that really dispelled the melancholy that fell on him after the loss of his _Milly_. It is curious and touching to note how he mingled up his reminiscences of his first wife with this gift brought him by the second. Writing to Madame Hensler, he says:— “The trial is over, but it has been a terrible trial. How Gretchen rejoices in the possession of her darling child after all her suffering, you can well imagine. Her patience was indescribable. In my terrible anxiety I prayed most earnestly, _and entreated my Milly, too, for help. I comforted Gretchen with telling her that Milly would send help._” Then come plans for the education of the boy. How much does the following brief extract suggest!— “I am thinking a great deal about his education. I told you a little while ago how I intended to teach him the ancient languages very early, by practice. I wish the child to believe all that is told him; and I now think you write in an assertion which I have formerly disputed, that it is better to tell children no tales, but to keep to the poets. But while I shall repeat and read the old poets to him in such a way that he will undoubtedly take the gods and heroes for historical beings, I shall tell him, at the same time, that the ancients had only an imperfect knowledge of the true God, and that these gods were overthrown when Christ came into the world. He shall believe in the letter of the Old and New Testaments, and I shall nurture in him from his infancy a firm faith in all that I have lost, or feel uncertain about.” On the opposite page we read the following letter to the same correspondent, Madame Hensler:— “I have spent yesterday and last night in thinking of my Milly, and this day, too, is sacred to these recollections. I saw her a few days ago in a dream. She seemed as if returning to me after a long separation. I felt uncertain, as one so often does in dreams, whether she was still living on this earth, or only appeared on it for a transient visit. She greeted me as if after a long absence, _asked hastily after the child, and took it in her arms_. “Happy are those who can cherish such a hallowing remembrance as that of the departure of my Milly with pious faith, trusting for a brighter and eternal spring. Such a faith cannot be acquired by one’s own efforts. Oh that it may one day be my portion!”