At Easter, 1884, he felt a premonition of his approaching end and faced it with that serenity of mind which had always distinguished him. At that time, when, without being really ill, he began to feel weak, he often spoke of his impending death. At Whitsuntide he was forced to take to his bed, and he now steadfastly regarded his approaching departure, and quietly prepared for it. He caused his children to be summoned, and clearly and thoughtfully talked over with them everything in his and their material affairs which still required to be set in order. He made a new will, as it had become necessary to change that already in existence on account of the illness of the faithful companion of his life, which was such as to preclude any hope of recovery. After that he was a little better again. The physicians believed that the ulcer of the stomach might heal, on account of the unusual vigor and soundness of the rest of the system: but he did not share their hopes, although he allowed his children to depart. But soon afterwards the physicians became convinced that the ulcer had developed into an incurable cancer of the stomach. Nevertheless he would not cease work, and his last efforts were devoted to his science. A polemic article against a Heidelberg colleague had already been sent to press, and had been put in type, in order that it might appear in the next number of the Journal of Egyptian Language and Archaeology. But before this occurred he felt the precursors of death, and recalled the controversial paper and had the type distributed, because he would not close his scientific career “with a discord.” Then, while in bed, he himself corrected the last pages of his “Linear Measures of the Ancients,” and with the same careful, indeed painful, accuracy which had distinguished his work in the days of health. He also directed to what persons this book should be sent. Like a true German scholar, Lepsius died in the midst of his labors. During the last three days he for the first time occasionally lost his clearness of thought, in consequence of bodily exhaustion, as for the five previous weeks he had been able to take very little nourishment. His end was painless, and his failing eyes looked round upon his children, to whom it was granted to stand beside his deathbed. At the end he tried to speak to his eldest son, but the brothers and sisters could only distinguish the name “Richard.” Lepsius drew his last breath on the tenth of July, at nine o’clock in the morning. With entire interest and consciousness he, together with all his children, had eight days before received the holy sacrament from the faithful pastor of the family, the chief Court Chaplain, Kögel. The words spoken beside the coffin of the deceased by that excellent divine were a model of what a funeral discourse should be, and proved that it had been given to Kögel to recognize fully those great qualities of mind and heart which had ennobled the departed.