London, 15 March 1883 

Dear Old Man, 

Rejoice that you saw Marx once more last autumn, *!* you will 
never see him again. Yesterday afternoon, at 2.45, when he had been 
left on his own for barely two minutes, we found him peacefully 
asleep in his chair. The most powerful intellect our party possessed had 
ceased to think, the stoutest heart I have ever known was beating no 
more. An internal haemorrhage would seem to be indicated. 

We two are now pretty well all that is left of the old guard of the 
days before °48. Well, we shall continue to man the breach. Though 
bullets may whistle and friends fall, it won’t be the first time we two 
have seen that happen. And if one of us is hit by a bullet— well and 
good, provided only it is properly lodged so that one isn’t left writh- 
ing for too long. 

Your old comrade in arms, 

F. Engels