Otto’s best epitaph is contained in a letter from my father to an intimate friend, which concluded thus: “ ...On a little rising-ground not far from Monrepos, he sleeps his last sleep in the shade of the old linden trees. But he lives on forever in our memory, and this living remembrance, this communion with the dead, is our last best heritage, by which in the midst of the heavy loss, we are yet made rich sempiternally.”