But in the middle of the struggle the death of two of his dearest friends occurred, Jordan and Kayserlingk. Touching are his lamentations. "In less than three months I have lost my two most faithful friends--people with whom I have daily lived, agreeable companions, estimable men, and true friends. It is difficult for a heart so sensitive as mine to restrain my deep sorrow. When I return to Berlin I shall feel almost a stranger in my own Fatherland, isolated in my home. It has been your fate also to lose at once many persons who were dear to you; but I admire your courage, which I cannot imitate. My only hope is time, which brings all things in nature to an end. It begins by weakening the impressions on our brains, and only ceases by destroying ourselves. I now dread every place which recals to me the sorrowful remembrance of friends I have for ever lost." And again, a month after, he writes to a friend, who endeavoured to comfort him: "Do not think that the pressure of business and danger distracts one's mind in sorrow? I know from experience that it is unsuccessful. Alas! a month has passed since my tears and my sorrow began, but since the first vehement outburst of the first days I feel as sorrowful and as little comforted as in the beginning." And when his worthy tutor, Duhan, sent him some French books of Jordan's, which the King had desired, in the latter part of the autumn of the same year, he wrote, "The tears came into my eyes when I opened the books of my poor departed Jordan, I loved him so much, and it is very painful to me to think that he is no more." Not long after, the King lost the friend also to whom this letter was addressed.