... From Mr. Schumacher I receive each paper as it comes from the press, but always with a feeling of uneasiness, because I am not one of those who can contribute anything to their valuable communications, nor even understand all which my defective eyes allow me to read. But they interest me exceedingly when I think what you will say. For instance, to a paper of twenty-two quarto pages, by Bessel, “_Über den Einfluss der Unregelmässigkeiten der Erde, auf geodetische Arbeiten und ihre Vergleichung mit den astronomischen Bestimmungen_.”[50] Perhaps you may have received these papers before this reaches you, but if any are lost by the way, I collect them for you; but I fear I shall not see the day of all the wonders coming to light when _you_ return with your budget.... ... I must conclude, for writing at any time makes me sad; and since I began this letter the notice of the death of our King has arrived, and the Duke of Cumberland has been this day proclaimed King of Hanover. It makes me feel as if I was doubly separated from England, for your King is now no longer my King. And we lose the Duke of Cambridge, who was ever so kind to me wherever he saw me. Last winter he introduced me to his brother, then Duke of Cumberland, who was here on a visit, at the concert, who spoke to me of you first as my son, but recollected himself that I was only aunt.... * * * * * I had illuminated my front rooms with twenty candles (snuffed them all myself, for Betty was out to see the show) on the evening of the King’s arrival, and so I shall again next Saturday or Sunday, when the Queen is expected. More I cannot do!... ... My head becomes crowded with melancholy forebodings of my not lasting so long as to hear of your safe return to your home and the friends which I think are only to be found in happy England; so, instead of tracing my gloomy imaginations on paper, I go to sleep till Betty rouses me with a cup of coffee.... But all I hear of you is told in a tone of admiration, &c., &c., and it is felt by me like a drop of oil supplying my expiring lamp. [Sidenote: 1837. _Sir John Herschel’s Return._] J. F. W. HERSCHEL TO MISS HERSCHEL. CAPE OF GOOD HOPE, _Sept. 7, 1837_. MY DEAR AUNT,— * * * * * I need hardly say how much we are rejoiced to see your handwriting once more, though that joy is damped by your complaints of winter indisposition. And such a winter! by all accounts. May this prove a better! and may we hope to find you in no worse health and spirits when we come to see you _next summer_ in Hanover. For so, if it please God to lead us safe home, according to our present _altered_ plans, we most assuredly propose to do.