she resolved to accept their
invitation to lodge with them permanently. She still continued her
philanthropic labours, and looked forward confidently to an old age of
usefulness, hallowed by the love of suffering humanity and brightened by
implicit confidence in the mercy and meek submission to the will of God.
But on Christmas Day, 1865, she caught cold at church, and inflammation
of the lungs supervened with a severity she had not strength enough to
resist. She herself did not believe there was any danger; and in spite
of increasing pain and difficulty in breathing, could not be persuaded
to lie down, but walked about even on the last day of her life, which
was also the last day of the year. Her mind preserved its clearness and
serenity. Shortly before her death, she went, leaning on her nurse's
arm, from window to window in her large sitting room, as if taking leave
of the surrounding landscape which she loved so deeply. Then in a low
weak voice she uttered some broken sentences, and frequently repeated
the words, "Light, eternal light!" Clasping her nurse's hands in her
own, she exclaimed, "Ah, my child, let us speak of Christ's love,--the
best, the highest love!" At three o'clock on the following morning, she
peacefully drew her last breath.[10]

* * * * *

From this brief sketch of the life of the great Swedish novelist, we
turn to a consideration of her work as a traveller.

Her visit to the United States she turned to good account, examining
with a keen observant eye the manners and customs of the people. She
made the acquaintance of Channing and Emerson; she went from town to
town, and village to village; she investigated the character and
influence of American institutions; she gave a lively consideration to
the great moral and political questions which were then stirring the
American mind. The result was, a strong and affectionate interest in the
great Western Commonwealth--an interest so strong and deep that it made
her somewhat unjust to England, which she had formerly placed in the
front rank of the nations as the mother of progress and true freedom.

In the following passage she particularizes, from her point of view, the
difference between the English and American character:--

"Brother Jonathan and John Bull," she says, "have the same father, but
not the same mother. John Bull is corpulent, with high-coloured cheeks,
is self-assertive, and speaks in a loud voice; Broth