Oct. 15th.—I went to my brother, his family being in town.
Oct. 29th.—I returned to my home.
A small slip of yellow paper, containing the following lines, traced by a tremulously feeble hand, belongs to this year:—
“Lina,—There is a great comet. I want you to assist me. Come to dine and spend the day here. If you can come soon after one o’clock we shall have time to prepare maps and telescopes. I saw its situation last night—it has a long tail.”
July 4th, 1819.
Then follows:—
“I keep this as a relic! Every line now traced by the hand of my dear brother becomes a treasure to me.
“C. Herschel.”
The next year opens, as so many previous ones have done. The bare facts of the steadily narrowing life being set down with the same brevity and unswerving attention to the one object. The family was in much anxiety on account of the failing health of Mrs. Beckwith, the niece of Lady Herschel, of whom, as Miss Baldwin, frequent mention has been made. The spring and summer were passed in taking the sufferer to different places in the country, but she was sinking in a rapid decline, and died in the autumn.
1819-1821. Extracts from Diary.