_Jan. 10th, 1848._—Your excellent aunt, my kind revered friend, breathed her last at eleven o’clock last night, the 9th of January.... She suffered but little, and went to sleep at last with scarcely a struggle. Up to the last moment she has had the most undeniable proofs of the affection and veneration of her own family and a number of friends, both English and German. Mr. Wilkinson, the English clergyman, has been unremitting in his visits, and so kind and judicious was his manner, that she received them to the last with unfeigned satisfaction.... At four o’clock the guns announced the birth of a young Princess—an event she had anticipated with much interest; and upon her being told of it she opened her eyes for the last time with consciousness. The following, translated from a letter of Miss Herschel’s niece, Mrs. Knipping, to her cousin, Sir J. Herschel, is a most precious fragment, expressing the sentiments of one who for years contributed to lighten the grievous burden of age and growing infirmity by her constant affection and appreciative sympathy. The regret that so little remains from the same pen is enhanced by the fact that no notes, or memorials of any kind, appear to exist by which we might hope to picture to ourselves one whose unconscious self-portraiture makes us crave to see and know and become familiarly acquainted with her, as she was seen and known by others. Comparatively recent as was her death, to the best of our knowledge all have passed away from whose lips we could hope to gather the impressions of personal acquaintance. Excepting from the letters already quoted on the occasion of her nephew’s two visits to Hanover, it is not until she lay on her death-bed that we obtain a glimpse of her drawn by any other hand than her own. _January 13, 1848._