me his hand I noticed the numerous blue veins which covered it like
a network. It was not until later that I learned how many important
enterprises that delicate hand had aided.

Heinrich Brugsch is still pursuing with fresh creative power the
profession of Egyptological research. The noble, simple-hearted woman who
was so proud of her son's increasing renown, his mother, died long ago.
She modestly admired his greatness, yet his shrewdness, capacity for
work, and happy nature were a heritage from her.

Heinrich Brugsch's instruction extended beyond the actual period of
teaching.

With the commencement of convalescence and the purposeful industry which
then began, a time of happiness dawned for me. The mental calmness felt
by every one who, secluded from the tumult of the world, as I was at that
time, devotes himself to the faithful fulfilment of duty, rendered it
comparatively easy for me to accommodate myself patiently to a condition
which a short time before would have seemed insupportable.

True, I was forced to dispense with the companionship of gay associates
of my own age. At first many members of my old corps, who were studying
in Berlin, sought me, but gradually their places were filled by other
friends.

The dearest of these was Dr. Adolf Baeyer, son of the General. He is now
one of the leaders in his chosen science, chemistry, and is Justus
Liebig's successor in the Munich University.

My second friend was a young Pole who devoted himself eagerly to
Egyptology, and whom Lepsius had introduced as a professional comrade. He
called me Georg and I him Mieczy (his name was Mieczyslaw).

So, during those hard winters, I did not lack friendship. But they also
wove into my life something else which lends their memory a melancholy
charm.

The second daughter of my mother's Belgian niece, who had married in
Berlin the architect Fritz Hitzig, afterwards President of the Academy of
Arts, was named Eugenie and nicknamed "Nenny."

If ever any woman fulfilled the demands of the fairy tale, "White as snow
and black as ebony," it was she. Only the "red as blood" was lacking, for
usually but a faint roseate hue tinged her cheeks. Her large blue eyes
had an innocent, dreamy, half-melancholy expression, which I was not the
only person who found unspeakably charming. Afterwards it seemed to me,
in recalling her look, that she beheld the fair boy Death, whose lowered
torch she was so soon to follow.

About the time tha