Mrs. Stowe received $300 for her serial story! However, scarcely had the last instalment appeared when a Boston publisher made arrangements to print it in book form. Within one year it had passed through 120 editions, and four months after the book was off the press the author had received $10,000 in royalties. Almost in a day Mrs. Stowe had become one of the most famous women in the world, and the specter of poverty had been banished forever. "Uncle Tom's Cabin" exerted a profound influence not only over the American people, but its fame spread to Europe. The year following its publication Jenny Lind came to America. Asked to contribute to a fund Mrs. Stowe was raising for the purpose of purchasing the freedom of a slave family, the "Swedish Nightingale" gladly responded, also writing a letter to Mrs. Stowe in the following prophetic vein: "I have the feeling about 'Uncle Tom's Cabin' that great changes will take place by and by, from the impression people receive from it, and that the writer of that book can fall asleep today or tomorrow with the bright, sweet consciousness of having been a strong means in the Creator's hand of having accomplished essential good." Tributes like this came to Mrs. Stowe from the great and lowly in all parts of the world. Concerning Jenny Lind's singing, Mrs. Stowe wrote to her husband from New York: "Well, we have heard Jenny Lind, and the affair was a bewildering dream of sweetness and beauty. Her face and movements are full of poetry and feeling. She has the artless grace of a little child, the poetic effect of a wood-nymph." Mrs. Stowe died in 1896 at the ripe age of eighty-four. Not long before her death she wrote to a friend: "I have sometimes had in my sleep strange perceptions of a vivid spiritual life near to and with Christ, and multitudes of holy ones, and the joy of it is like no other joy--it cannot be told in the language of the world.... The inconceivable loveliness of Christ!... I was saying as I awoke: 'Tis joy enough, my All in all, At Thy dear feet to lie. Thou wilt not let me lower fall, And none can higher fly." Bishop Coxe's Missionary Hymn Saviour, sprinkle many nations, Fruitful let Thy sorrows be; By Thy pains and consolations Draw the Gentiles unto Thee. Of Thy cross the wondrous story, Be it to the nations told; Let them see Thee in Thy glory, And Thy mercy manifold. Far and wide, though all unknowing, Pants for Thee each mortal breast: Human tears for Thee are flowing, Human hearts in Thee would rest. Thirsting as for dews of even, As the new-mown grass for rain, Thee they seek, as God of heaven, Thee as Man, for sinners slain.