In 1834, Sir John, as already stated, made a voyage to the Cape of Good Hope, in order to undertake a series of observations of the southern heavens.  His aunt had now reached the ripe old age of eighty-four, an age attained by few,—­and when attained, bringing with it in almost every case a painful diminution of physical energy, and a corresponding decline in mental force.  But such was not the case with this remarkable woman.  She still continued an active correspondence with her nephew, and manifested the liveliest interest in all his movements.  It is astonishing to mark the vivacity and clearness of the letters she wrote at this advanced period of her life.  Thus, on the 1st of May 1834, she writes to Sir John:—­

“Both yourself and my dear niece urged me to write often, and to write always twice; but, alas!  I could not overcome the reluctance I felt of [at] telling you that it is over with me for getting up at eight or nine o’clock, dressing myself, eating my dinner alone without an appetite, falling asleep over a novel (I am obliged to lay down to recover the fatigue of the morning’s exertions), awaking with nothing but the prospect of the trouble of getting into bed, where very seldom I get above two hours’ sleep.  It is enough to make a parson swear!  To this I must add, I found full employment for the few moments, when I could rouse myself from a melancholy lethargy, to spend in looking over my store of astronomical and other memorandums of upwards of fifty years’ collecting.”

Later in the year she writes:—­

“I know not how to thank you sufficiently for the cheering account you give of the climate agreeing so well with you and all who are so dear to me, and that you find all about you so agreeable and comfortable;... so that I have nothing left to wish for but a continuation of the same, and that I may only live to see the handwriting of your dear Caroline, though I have my doubts about lasting till then, for the thermometer standing 80 deg. and 90 deg. for upwards of two mouths, day and night, in nay rooms (to which I am mostly confined), has made great havoc in my brittle constitution.  I beg you will look to it that she learns to make her figures as you find them in your father’s MSS., such as he taught me to make.  The daughter of a mathematician must write plain figures.

“My little grand-nephew making alliance with your workmen shows that he is taking after his papa.  I see you now in idea, running about in petticoats among your father’s carpenters, working with little tools of your own; and John Wiltshire (one of Pitt’s men, whom you may perhaps remember) crying out, ’Dang the boy, if he can’t drive in a nail as well as I can!’

“I thank you for the astronomical portion of your letter, and for your promise of future accounts of uncommon objects.  It is not clusters of stars I want you to discover in the body of the Scorpion [the astronomical