s of the island of Euboea, is full
of inspiration. Visitors to Marathon, in search of mementoes, generally
look for the arrows that are sometimes found upon the shore; but Miss
Bremer, as a more appropriate souvenir, carried away a bouquet of wheat
ears and wild everlastings.

* * * * *

It would be pleasant to follow Miss Bremer from place to place
throughout her classic wanderings, for such a companion enhances the
delight and utility of travel; it is like studying a fine poem with the
help of a poet's interpretation of it. But our space is exhausted, and
the reader who would go further must be referred to her interesting
volumes. Every page bears the stamp of a sympathetic intelligence.

FOOTNOTES:

[9] F. Milon: "Life and Letters of Frederika Bremer" (Ed. 1868), p. 9.

[10] Besides the works named in the preceding pages, Frederika Bremer
wrote "The Diary," "Life in Dalecarlia," "Brothers and Sisters," and
"The Midnight Sun."

[11] Frederika Bremer's judgment is certainly at fault here; and in
other points she does not show a very exact discrimination. The sketch,
indeed, is witty rather than accurate; a clever caricature rather than a
correct drawing.

[12] There is much more poetry in Miss Bremer's prose works than in her
poems, which are little more than the efforts of an accomplished
versifier.

[13] F. Bremer, "Two Years in Switzerland and Italy" (transl. by Mary
Howitt), i. 15-17.

[14] One or two quotations, illustrative of Frederika Bremer's style, we
may give in a note. And, first, her impression of the mountains ("Two
Years in Switzerland and Italy," i. 239):--

"They stand in nature like the prophets of the Old Testament, or, more
correctly speaking, like the old wise men and teachers of the pagan
world, and point us to a greatness high above that in which we, the
children of the valleys and the plains, have our being. For these
pyramids are not the pleasantest things upon earth, they are not the
fragrance of the flowers, not the singing of the birds, not the changing
life of the seasons. Imperishable in their eternal place, they are moved
alone by the sun. The sun alone causes them to glow or become pale, and
to paint for us images of life or of death. But they alone receive its
earliest beams in the morning, and retain its light in the evening long
after it has departed from us. It is in their bosoms that spring feeds
the great rivers which fertilize the earth,