I am tired, and can write no more just now, but for our amusement I will, some time or other, give you the history of the few days you were in Hanover, in July, 1838. For all that past was like Sheridan’s Chapter of Accidents. If I could only have had a few hours of private conversation with you then, much trouble would since have been spared me.
I hope to have soon some account of how your new situation agrees both with papa, mamma, and the little bodies. How many English miles is it from London?
... My sweeper, which I should have been so happy to put in the hands of my little grand-nephew, and teach him to catch comets till he could do something better (O! why did I leave England!) is now in the hands of the good, honest creature, Director Hausmann, and the seven-foot telescope is also saved from being sold for an old song....
MISS HERSCHEL TO SIR J. F. W. HERSCHEL, BART.
July 6, 1840.
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But at another time, when perhaps I may find myself a little better, I will amuse my dear niece with introducing some of my acquaintances to her notice. Some of the family of General Halkett,[[56]] at least, she will not be displeased at knowing personally. Last night the sister of the general, Mrs. W. Clarke,[[57]] a widow, sat an hour with me, and said she would next summer visit her late husband’s relations in England, and then she would not fail of seeing you. You must love her for my sake, for she really takes some pains to give me pleasure, bringing me flowers, taking me an airing in her fine English equipage, &c. I must not forget the general’s lady, a second wife, of course a stepmother of my young friend. She is Scotch (a Graham), and brought me little Christmas pies in her reticule on New-year’s Day, of the young lady’s making—the only good kind I have tasted in Hanover, and they were as good as my nephew’s mamma ever made.
1840. Her Seven-foot Telescope.
MISS HERSCHEL TO LADY HERSCHEL.
August 3, 1840.