London, 4 December 1890 

Dear Mr Schorlemmer, 

Not till today have I been able to get round to sending you my best 
thanks for your good wishes. My health is still pretty fair, if only my 
eyes permitted me to work at my desk; it’s a wearisome and tedious 
business, but one has got to accept it. Again, smoking is something 

I can seldom permit myself, and your beautiful pipes stand on the 
chimney piece and 

seem to say as they look at me: 
‘What, old chap, have they done to thee?’ 

Warmest regards to your mother, your brothers and sisters and 
their families, and to all party comrades from 

Your old friend 
F. Engels