We have received the sincerest sympathy from near and far, from high and low, and only one voice has been heard regarding my dear brother: he was loved, honored, and respected by every one. Our good Adolf passed away, it seems, while asleep. He died in the night of the 29–30th of October, having been on deck in good spirits and full of jokes the day before. He did feel very weak during the last days, and had suffered severely from seasickness; but it did not manifest itself as in other people—he only suffered infinitely, and that brought about his sudden demise. He had no forewarning of it; on the very evening of the 29th he talked a great deal with his fellow-traveler M. de Neufville, and with the captain in his cabin. Neither the captain, nor the steward who waited on him and was on the watch that night, heard the slightest thing. On the morning of the 30th M. de Neufville thought he was still sleeping, and sat down on his bunk, never once dreaming that he was beside the dear dead. Let me break off from this sad theme. I am somewhat calmed and strengthened. I cannot thank God sufficiently for having been so kind to my dearest brother. I hope to meet him again in the life to come. I inclose a charming poem dedicated to my brother Adolf’s departed spirit, composed by some one in Wiesbaden, who signs the name “Glücklich.” It will surely please you. How is it with you, dear Countess, and with your mother? Do you intend to stay in Graz all winter? I may possibly visit my youngest brother, Hermann, in Berlin for a few weeks, or, if it should be too cold here, go to Wiesbaden where our Crown Prince and his wife are staying. As soon as my departed brother’s effects arrive I will send you some of his song books as a memento. Perhaps you might suggest one or another that you especially care for. Of course we are spending the holiday season very quietly. I will now close, so that the letter may get off to-day, and that you may at length receive the long-desired details with whatever power they have to set the mind at ease. Remember me most cordially to the Countess your mother, and keep me in your friendship. With hearty greetings, liebe, verehrteste Komtesse, Your most respectful and devoted Wilhelm Prinz Sayn-Wittgenstein Schloss Wittgenstein, December 19, 1872 From Adolf’s fellow-traveler, M. de Neufville, mentioned repeatedly in the above letter, I received a long memorandum about the voyage and the sad ending; whereupon I wrote him, and received the following reply: P. O. Box 2744, New York, March 12, 1873 Hochverehrte Gräfin,