"Of my dear nephew's advice I could not avail myself, for I
knew that at that time he had weighty concerns on his mind.
And, besides, my whole life almost has passed away in the
delusion that, next to my eldest brother, none but Dietrich was
capable of giving me advice where to leave my few relics,
consisting of a few books and my sweeper [that is, the
seven-foot telescope with which she was accustomed to sweep the
heavens for comets]. And for the last twenty years I kept to
the resolution of never opening my lips to my dear brother
William about worldly concerns, let me be ever so much at a
loss for knowing right from wrong."

Miss Herschel proceeds to note that on the afternoons of the 11th, 12th,
13th, and 14th of August, she, "as usual," spent some hours with her
brother.

On the 15th she hastened to the accustomed place, where she generally
found him, with the newspaper which she was to read aloud for his
amusement. But, instead, she found assembled there several of his
nearest friends, who informed her that her aged brother had been
compelled to return to his room. She lost no time in seeking him. He was
attended by Lady Herschel and his housekeeper, who were administering
everything which was likely to keep up his failing strength.

Miss Herschel observed that he was much irritated, with the irritation
natural to old age and extreme bodily feebleness, at his inability to
grant a friend's request for some token of remembrance for his father.
No sooner did he see Miss Herschel, the loving companion and
fellow-worker of so many years, than he characteristically employed her
to fetch one of his last papers, and a plate (or map) of the forty-foot
telescope. "But, for the universe," says Miss Herschel, "I could not
have looked twice at what I had snatched from the shelf; and when he
faintly asked if the breaking up of the Milky Way[1] was in it, I said,
'Yes,' and he looked content." I cannot help remembering this
circumstance; it was the last time I was sent to the library on such an
occasion. That the anxious care for his papers and workrooms never ended
but with his life, was proved by his frequent whispered inquiries if
they were locked and the key safe; of which I took care to assure him
that they were, and the key in Lady Herschel's hands.

[Footnote 1: The _Via Lactea_, or "Milky Way," had long been supposed to
consist of a nebulous, vague, luminous matt