Madame Meszlenyi endeavoured vainly to recruit her strength sufficiently to enable her to make a voyage to Belgium in order to engage lace workers, and to found a permanent and prosperous business, in which she might before her own death obtain a partner who might provide the means of accomplishing what lay so near her own heart, the completion of the education of her daughters when she should be taken from them. As the winter of 1853 thus passed, and the succeeding spring opened, difficulties arose which had not been anticipated, while the exertion which was attendant upon explanations and negotiations was more than the feeble spirit was able to bear. Even after arrangements had been made for her voyage to Europe in the hope that success in her endeavours might stimulate her energies, and yet prolong her life, it became evident that nothing in this world could avail further--that if her earthly hopes were to be brought to fruition it would be by other hands than hers. It is some satisfaction for us to know that when Madame Meszlenyi learnt at last that it would be impossible for her to accomplish the desire of her heart, the friend in whose house she had resided during the winter cheered her by an assurance that her children would be provided for, and that the education so wisely begun under the eye of the mother would be completed according to her desire. As this desire was fully known to her beloved sister Emilie, this assurance proved to be a great consolation to the dying mother. The last scene should be told in the words of one who speaks with authority. "In the course of June she called for the administration of the Lord's Supper, which she took for the last time from the hands of the Lutheran clergyman, and continually afterwards expressed that she was ready and anxious to go. On the afternoon of the 28th of that month she said to those around her that the hour was approaching, and summoned her sister Ruttkai and the children to the leave-taking, at which was also present one of her family physicians, the sister of her heart and soul being far away. "Having said the last tender words, and embraced them, she looked at the doctor earnestly, and inaudibly pronounced the words 'How long?' 'Not long,' he replied gently, and she brilliantly smiled. She breathed some hours after, but said nothing more except to give a negative when asked if she were in pain. A humble Hungarian friend who sat by her bedside, watching her last breath, and at last closed her eyes, has said that an hour before she died so brilliant a look came into her face she thought she was going to rally, and perhaps recover. She then attempted to give her a message to Emilie, of which she uttered not words enough to be wholly understood by the auditor; then the wonderful expression faded, and hardly had done so when the last breath came. It was on the 29th June, 1854, when this noble and gifted being, at the early age of thirty-four, ascended to the Father of Spirits."