The dress that he generally wore when he went out to visit, was a suit of black velvet, (made after an old fashion,) a pair of long ruffles, a curiously hilted sword, and a gold-headed cane. In his later years he became less and less attentive to the concerns of the world. When walking abroad, he seemed to be engaged in spiritual communion, and took little notice of things and people in the streets. When he went out in Stockholm, without the observation of his domestics, some singularity in his dress would often betray his abstraction. Once when he dined with Robsahm’s father, he appeared with one shoe-buckle of plain silver, and the other set with precious stones,—greatly to the amusement of some ladies of the party. When he lodged with Bergstrom, he usually walked out after breakfast, dressed neatly in velvet, and made a good appearance. In Sweden his dress was simple, but neat and convenient: during winter, he was clad in a garment of reindeer skins; and, in summer, in a study gown: “both well worn, as became a philosopher,” according to Robsahm. Mr. Servanté was one of the earliest and most affectionate receivers of New Church doctrine. Before he received the truths of the New Church, he was once passing along St. John’s street, London, when he met an old gentleman, of a dignified and most venerable appearance, whose deeply thoughtful, yet mildly expressive countenance, added to something very unusual in his general air, attracted his attention very forcibly. He turned round, therefore, to take another view of the stranger, who also turned around and looked at him. This was Swedenborg; but it was not until some years afterward, on seeing his portrait, that he became aware that the dignified and venerable old gentleman was the author of those works he now so sincerely loved, and so earnestly studied. In person, Swedenborg was about 5 feet 9 inches high, rather thin, and of a brown complexion. His eyes were of a brownish grey, nearly hazel, and rather small. He had always a cheerful smile upon his countenance. When Collin visited him, he was thin and pale, but still retained traces of beauty, and had something very pleasing in his physiognomy, and a dignity in his erect stature. Ab Indagine tells us his eyes were always smiling; and Robsahm, that his “countenance was always illuminated by the light of his uncommon genius.” His manners were those of a nobleman and gentleman of the last century. He was somewhat reserved, but complaisant; accessible to all, and had something very loving and taking in his demeanor. Personally, he left good impressions behind him wherever he appeared.