I am to blame for my neglect of you, my dear friend, but when you consider the grief which depresses me,* (* Owing to the death of his brother, William von Humboldt.) and renders me unfit to keep up my scientific connections, you will not be so unkind as to bear me any ill-will for my long silence. You are too well aware of my high esteem for your talents and your character--you know too well the affectionate friendship I bear you--to fear for a moment that you could be forgotten. I have seen the being I loved most, and who alone gave me some interest in this arid land, slowly decline. For four long years my brother had suffered from a weakness of all the muscles, which made me always fear that the seat of the trouble was the medulla oblongata. Yet his step was firm; his head was entirely clear. The higher intellectual faculties retained all their energy. He was engaged from twelve to thirteen hours a day on his works, reading or rather dictating, for a nervous trembling of the hand prevented him from using a pen. Surrounded by a numerous family; living on a spot created, so to speak, by himself, and in a house which he had adorned with antique statues; withdrawn also from affairs, he was still attached to life. The illness which carried him off in ten days--an inflammation of the chest--was but a secondary symptom of his disease. He died without pain, with a strength of character and a serenity of mind worthy of the greatest admiration. It is cruel to see so noble an intelligence struggle during ten long days against physical destruction. We are told that in great grief we should turn with redoubled energy to the study of nature. The advice is easy to give; but for a long time even the wish for distraction is wanting. My brother leaves two works which we intend to publish: one upon the languages and ancient Indian civilization of the Asiatic archipelago, and the other upon the structure of languages in general, and the influence of that structure upon the intellectual development of nations. This last work has great beauty of style. We shall soon begin the publication of it. My brother's extensive correspondence with all those countries over which his philological studies extended brings upon me just at present, such a multiplicity of occupations and duties that I can only write you these few lines, my dear friend, as a pledge of my constant affection, and, I may also add, my admiration of your eminent works. It is a pleasure to watch the growing renown of those who are dear to us; and who should merit success more than you, whose elevation of character is proof against the temptations of literary self-love? I thank you for the little you have told me of your home life. It is not enough to be praised and recognized as a great and profound naturalist; to this one must add domestic happiness as well. . .