came in contact with her, of the extreme reverence
and love with which they regarded her, was, therefore, the
incomparable power, sincerity, generosity, and gentleness of her
character. But to appreciate this truth, and learn the lesson it
conveys, we must analyze the case more in detail. The distinguished
friend who has written her life says,

"The most remarkable peculiarity of the character of Madame Swetchine
was, that all the qualities, all the virtues, and all the powers were
distributed in perfect harmony. She was in the same degree
enthusiastic and sensible, because her reason was equal to her
imagination: she thought as deeply as she felt. However often a man
in mind, she always remained a woman in heart; and her personal
abnegation was neither feigned nor studied. As exempt from envy as
from ambition, she lived first in others, then in public works; only
thought of herself after being occupied with everybody else; and
great as was her dislike of egotism, never needed to rebuke it
because she found such a rich joy in the opposite sentiment. Her
disinterestedness reconciled others to her superiority."

Her faith stood so firm in the whirlwind of opinions, that she needed
not to bolster it by bigotry. To the friends, who once murmured
against her too great tolerance, she replied, "Of what use is it to
live, if one is never to hear any thing but his own voice?" Her
compassion and her patience were unconquerable. Nothing could draw
from her the slightest sign of vexation or weariness. One of her
constant visitors, for fifteen years, was a woman universally
detested for her outrageous temper and her bad manners. The
announcement of her name was the signal of dismay and dispersion. But
the saintly hostess invariably gave her an affectionate reception;
and to all the attempts made to induce her to cast off the obnoxious
guest, she said, with a smile, "What do you wish? All the world
avoids her; she is unhappy, and she has only me." This woman died of
old age; and, during her last days, Madame Swetchine went often to
see her, and passed long hours beside her death-bed.

The face of Madame Swetchine, without being handsome, was remarkably
expressive; and the inflections of her singularly rich and strong
voice were exactly modulated to every thought and feeling of her
soul. Destitute of egotism herself, she showed an invariable
tolerance for the egotisms of others, and her management of them was
a marvel of magnanimo