And in one of her last letters, addressed to an American friend who had reminded her of her prophecy and of its present fulfilment, she replied,—­“Never say that I have ‘cursed’ your country.  I only declared the consequence of the evil in her, and which has since developed itself in thunder and flame.  I feel with more pain than many Americans do the sorrow of this transition-time; but I do know that it is transition, that it is crisis, and that you will come out of the fire purified, stainless, having had the angel of a great cause walking with you in the furnace.”  Are not such burning, hopeful words from such a source—­worthy of the grateful memory of the Americans?  Our cause has lost an ardent supporter in Mrs. Browning; and did we dare rebel against God’s will, we should grieve deeply that she was not permitted to glorify the Right in America as she has glorified it in Italy.  Among the last things that she read were Motley’s letters on the “American Crisis,” and the writer will ever hold in dear memory the all but final conversation had with Mrs. Browning, in which these letters were discussed and warmly approved.  In referring to the attitude taken by foreign nations with regard to America, she said,—­“Why do you heed what others say?  You are strong, and can do without sympathy; and when you have triumphed, your glory will be the greater.”  Mrs. Browning’s most enthusiastic admirers are Americans; and I am sure, that, now she is no longer of earth, they will love her the more for her sympathy in the cause which is nearest to all hearts.

Mrs. Browning’s conversation was most interesting.  It was not characterized by sallies of wit or brilliant repartee, nor was it of that nature which is most welcome in society.  It was frequently intermingled with trenchant, quaint remarks, leavened with a quiet, graceful humor of her own; but it was eminently calculated for a tete-a-tete.  Mrs. Browning never made an insignificant remark.  All that she said was always worth hearing;—­a greater compliment could not be paid her.  She was a most conscientious listener, giving you her mind and heart, as well as her magnetic eyes.  Though the latter spoke an eager language of their own, she conversed slowly, with a conciseness and point that, added to a matchless earnestness, which was the predominant trait of her conversation as it was of her character, made her a most delightful companion. Persons were never her theme, unless public characters were under discussion, or friends were to be praised,—­which kind office she frequently took upon herself.  One never dreamed of frivolities in Mrs. Browning’s presence, and gossip felt itself out of place. Yourself (not herself) was always a pleasant subject to her, calling out all her best sympathies in joy, and yet more in sorrow.  Books and humanity, great deeds, and, above all, politics, which include all the grand questions of the day, were foremost in her thoughts, and therefore oftenest on her lips.  I speak not of religion, for with her everything was religion.  Her Christianity was not confined to church and rubric:  it meant civilization.