Sir John Herschel returned to England in 1838, and in July of the same year he and his little son paid a visit to Miss Herschel.  It is characteristic that her intense anxiety as to the proper treatment of her little grand-nephew—­his sleep, his food, his playthings—­greatly disturbed her peace.  “I rather suffered him,” she writes, “to hunger, than would let him eat anything hurtful; indeed, I would not let him eat anything at all unless his papa was present.”  Her biographer remarks, that great as was her joy to see once more almost the only living being upon whom she poured some of that wealth of affection with which her heart never ceased to overflow, yet it was on the disappointments and shortcomings of those few days, those precious days, that she chiefly dwelt; and the abrupt termination of her nephew’s visit filled her with the deepest sorrow.  With the generous, but, as it proved, mistaken intention of sparing her feelings, her nephew left without informing her beforehand of the exact time of his departure, simply bidding her good-night prior to his return to his inn.  Great was her distress when she found that he and his son had quitted Hanover at four o’clock on the following morning.

Her introduction to her grand-nephew, as described by his father, Sir John, was exceedingly quaint:—­

“Now, let me tell you how tilings fell out.  Dr. Groskopff took Willie with him to Aunty, but without saying who he was.  Says she, ‘What little boy is that?’ Says he, ’The son of a friend of mine.  Ask him his name.’  However, Willie would not tell his name.  ‘Where do you come from, little fellow?’ ’From the Cape of Good Hope,’ says Willie.  ‘What is that he says?’ ’He says he comes from the Cape of Good Hope.’  ’Ay! and who is he?  What is his name?’ ‘His name is Herschel.’  ’Yes,’says Willie.  ’What is that he says?’ ‘He says he comes from the Cape of Good Hope.’  ‘Ay! and who is he?  What is his name?’ ‘His name is Herschel.’  ‘Yes,’ says Willie, ‘William James Herschel.’  ’Ach, mem Gott! das nicht moeglich; ist dieser kleines neffeu’s sohn?’ And so it all came out; and when I came to her all was understood, and we sat down and talked as quietly as if we had parted but yesterday.”

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In a letter which she wrote to Lady Herschel in 1838, we find some reminiscences of her early years.  She says that when, at the age of twenty-two, she first visited England, there was no kind of ornamental needle-work, knitting, plaiting hair, stringing beads and bugles, and the like, of which she did not make samples by way of mastering the art.  As she was the only girl, and consequently the Cinderella, of the family, she could not find time, however, for much self-improvement.  She was not, for instance, a skilled musician, but she was able to play the second violin part of an overture or easy quartette.  And it is worth notice that the Herschels were something more than astronomers only.  Both Sir William