I have now received in all five letters, two by your own hands, and three by my nephew. Each time after having read them over again they are put by, under thanksgiving to the Almighty, with a prayer for future protection. ... Writing to my absent friends is one of the most laborious employments I could fly to when under bodily and, of course, mental sickness, for it is not impossible I might, instead of making inquiry about my little precious grand-nephew and the young _ladies_ who play, sing, and sew so prettily, write, “O! my back. O! I have the cramp here, there, &c.” I had intended to keep a day-book to note down how and where I spent my time, and what was passing about me, which was to have served for yours and my nephew’s amusement some day or other. But this I have given up long since, for seeing nothing but lapses of weeks and months where I could have given no better account of myself than that, after the fatigue of getting up and dressing, I fell asleep on the sofa, with a newspaper or other uninteresting subject in my hands, this would only have put me in mind of the useless life I am leading now. But within the last two months I have been obliged to exert myself once more to answer two letters, one to Mr. De Morgan, the Secretary of the Royal Astronomical Society, the other to Mr. Baily (who I suppose is President), for they have been pleased to choose me, along with Mrs. Somerville, to be a member (God knows what for) of their Society. This, and receiving visits of congratulation (for congratulate they must about all they find—what they call _promotion_—in the _Zeitungen_) has really somewhat disturbed me, though Captain Müller and Mr. Hausmann I am always glad to see; with them I can talk about my nephew, for they know him personally, and admire him. The winter else has passed away rather heavily, because the Landgräfin not being here, I had no other opportunity for seeing anything to put me in mind of England, but going to eight or ten concerts, and those, ill or well, I never missed, for there I was always sure to be noticed by the Duke of Cambridge as his countrywoman (and that is what I want, I will be no Hanoverian!), and then inquiries are made about my nephew and his family; even the little princess, twelve years old, who sometimes when there, comes to give me her hand, asking if I have had any letters from the Cape; but now I have seen the last of them, for the family go to England, and will be absent for many months, and where may I be when they return? But Sunday night I sat a full hour on the sofa with the Duke at Mrs. Beckedorff’s, where I go Sundays from seven to nine, where there is nobody but the female part of Mrs. B.’s family, and another old lady, who was absent on account of being not well. Of this our meeting the good Duke knew all along, and good-naturedly came to join our gossip. [Sidenote: 1835. _Newton and Flamsteed._]