have done," she said in 1826, "is saying too little of him, for he did all. I was a mere tool which he had the trouble of sharpening and adapting for the purpose he wanted it, for lack of a better."
As the years passed, and her vitality ebbed, all her affection became concentrated in the one being whom she felt understood her and with whom she had community of interests—her nephew John. She followed his career with pride, as a worthy sequel to that of his father; his visits to Hanover were to her oases in the desert of her experience; he and his wife were her principal correspondents. She wrote her last letter to her nephew, December 3rd, 1846: she was then ninety-six, and had survived her brother for twenty-four years. During 1847, tenderly nursed by her niece, Mrs. Knipping, the only one of Dieterich's family who really sought to care for her, she slowly sank, and on 9th January, 1848, she passed away—within two months of completing her ninety-eighth year. She was buried beside her parents in the churchyard of the Gartengemeinde at Hanover. Her epitaph, composed by herself, records that "the eyes of her who is glorified were here below turned to the starry heavens. Her own discoveries of comets and her participation in the immortal labours of her brother, William Herschel, bear witness of this to future ages."
Future ages are not likely to forget Caroline Herschel. Her own original work was, it is true, comparatively small; but her self-sacrificing devotion to her brother, her performance of the countless small petty drudgeries of his scientific life, her tender care for his welfare and comfort, give her an honourable place among women of lasting fame. As long as William Herschel is remembered, his sister Caroline will not be forgotten. As has been truly said, "she shines and will continue to shine by the reflected light that she loved".
The career of the younger Herschel was, in many
