'I am much moved to think that letter to me was her last. And there is a fitness that it should be so. "Baptized for the dead," as the phrase is. In some sense I am successor to her work, and it was not out of keeping that her last letter should have been to the field which all along had such a large place and keen interest in her heart, where so many more good works found a place. I often think of all the kindness and friendship I have experienced at her hands, both on my visits to Edinburgh and through letters. Missionaries miss such lives much when they are removed. I need not speak to you, who knew her so well, of what a charming hostess she made, and of how, even in her old age, all her great and abiding earnestness had running through it all so much happy Scotch humour. 'I had no idea Mrs. Swan was so old. Eighty-one, she did not look old except about the last time I saw her, and then I had no idea her age was so great. She has gone; but for many years to come, if I am spared, I shall from time to time revisit her in her house in Edinburgh, and see her at the table with the quiet Jane moving noiselessly around, or see her seated at her desk in the corner, writing letters. Remember me very kindly to your father--fit brother for such a sister. Their separation cannot be very long at the longest. For that matter of it, those of us who are here longest must soon be gone, and when the going comes, or looms before us, let us look not at the going, but at the being _there_.' Having paid considerable attention to the work and methods of the Salvation Army, the publication of _In Darkest England_ interested him greatly, and on March 9 he sent in a letter the following trenchant criticism, all the more noteworthy because of his strong sympathy with much in the Army that others find it hard to accept.