London, 9 January 1890 

Dear Hermann, 

Many thanks for your good wishes which, and this goes for you all, I 
heartily reciprocate. I’m glad to hear that you’re all getting on so well and 
I, too, cannot complain. I put on weight again last year and am now back 
to 168 English lbs, which is about as heavy as I’ve ever been, though all 
of it is firm muscular flesh without any loose adipose tissue. My eyes are 
also improving; as a rule the foggy season, when the days are shortest, 
used to be the critical time during which they invariably got worse, but 
I’ve come through the present season in better shape than I’ve known for 
years and so there’s a fair prospect of my being able to return to full-time 
work before long. Even the doctors won’t believe me when I tell them 
I’m in my seventieth year; they say I look ten or fifteen years younger. Of 
course all this is simply on the surface and even in my own case may 
prove deceptive, for all kinds of minor ailments may be lurking under- 
neath and over a period these many little things can add up to quite a lot, 
but all in all I can’t complain and when I see how so many people make 
their lives an utter misery for nothing and less than nothing and to no 
purpose whatsoever, I can count myself lucky that I have retained my joie 
de vivre unimpaired and can laugh at such idiotic behaviour. 

But by now you will doubtless have heard enough about my 
esteemed person to last you for a long time and I too believe that it’s high 
time I stopped. 

I duly got your circular about the boys and at once drank a hearty toast 
all on my own to the health of the new partners. It is very wise of you 
to have brought the boys into the partnership; after all, most of the work 
fell to them, as did most of the responsibility whenever the two of you were 
away from Engelskirchen, and it will give them quite a different incentive 
if their status in the firm corresponds to the work they do. I now advise 
you and Rudolf to devote as much as possible of your well-earned leisure 
to open air pursuits and, in summer, to travelling (you won’t, I imagine, 
forget to go shooting in the autumn). Just you see how that sets you up. 

* Rudolf Engels 

I was notified by circular of Fritz Boelling’s death (I was about to say 
August Boelling) and J think I heard about Fritz Osterroth in the same 
way. August Boelling may have been a pretty frail little chap, but he still 
managed to live to eighty, though no doubt he was careful not to overdo 
things towards the end. People like that can get away with it, while we, 
who enjoy better health, take on more and more work as we grow older, 
catch some beastly ailment and crack up as a result. That, however, is not 
altogether a bad thing, and also has its advantages. You at any rate will, 
in 2 or 3 years’ time, reap the benefit of having reared your own doctor,? 
to whose care you can consign your body, thereby relieving yourself of 
any further responsibility in that respect also. 

I trust Emma? enjoyed the New Year’s cake as much as I have the 
numerous German dainties I have been consuming during the past three 
weeks over and above the obligatory plum pudding, mince pies, etc. For 
we now have a gas stove, as our range has ceased to draw and the land- 
lord hasn’t installed a new one. This transition from difficult to easy 
cooking has put my old housekeeper‘ into a real culinary frenzy and I 
must now eat my way through the fruits thereof. 

Influenza, so-called, which, however, is said to be actually quite 
different from our old, familiar grippe, has also begun to take hold over 
here and a number of my acquaintances have already got it. An 
Englishman who came here for a meal last Sunday is in a state of such 
trepidation that he always keeps a bottle of ammoniated quinine in his 
pocket to drink from at table. May it do him good, but I’d rather have 
influenza than guzzle the bitter, evil-smelling stuff between meat and 
vegetables and spoil my good wine! 

So I trust that all of you will remain in good health and good spirits. 

My love to Emma, the children, Rudolf and family and yourself. 

Ever yours, 
Friedrich