After a visit to Newport, Monmouth, followed by one to Ashley Moor, she spent some time in Switzerland. Here her quiet work went on among tourists and invalids, as well as Swiss. It was on this visit to Switzerland that she began the friendship with Baroness Helga V. Cramm, whose painted cards blend so beautifully with her words.
Towards the end of August, symptoms of her illness recurred, and she had not strength to return to England until October. It was on her journey back that the idea of her book _My King_ came to her. It was, says her sister, at Oxford station on the way to Winterdyne. "I thought Frances was dozing when she exclaimed, with that herald flash in her eye, 'Marie! I see it all; I can write a little book, _My King_;' and rapidly went through divisions for thirty-one chapters."
The writer of this short biography may here refer to a never-to-be-forgotten hour that he spent with Frances R. Havergal. He had sent her some lines suggested by this little book, of which she most kindly expressed her approval, and naturally the book _My King_ formed the subject of conversation, and she expressed her gratitude that she had been led to write this and other of her books in chapters for each day in the month; "for," said she, "they are read through in many cases twelve times a year instead of being perused once and thrown aside."
The year 1877 was passed uneventfully in paying various visits to relatives. But though uneventfully spent, not by any means idly or unprofitably, for her time was fully occupied with literary work.
A little later on we get a glimpse of this busy worker in another sphere. She had gone to Mildmay Park for rest.
"I was going away on Saturday, but caught cold at the quarterly meeting of the Association of Female Workers, ... so I resigned myself to an extra week here; and verily, they _do_ know how to nurse, _and_ what's more (!) how to keep you quiet. Also, they do know how to pray! I have learned a little, I hope, on _that_ subject this last week. What I hear and see here is quite a new light on intercessory prayer. I thought I knew something of its power and reality, but I see I did not know much.
"Mrs. Pennefather took me (before my cold) to Clapton House. I only wish every girl I care for was there; such a beautiful Christian school. I got any amount of bright looks (as it seems they knew my books), and I wanted exceedingly to go among them. Hearing the Principal say she would be prevented taking their Bible class, I ventured the proposal to take it. Afterwards, I had about a dozen all to myself in the drawing-room for a talk with any that wanted special help. They were told to get chairs. 'Oh!' I said, '_don't_ sit all in a row a long way off; come up close and cosy; we can talk ever so much better then, can't we?' You should have seen how charmed they were, and clustered niece-fashion all round me. We did have such a sweet hour; it was rather after the 'question-drawer' manner; but all their little questions and difficulties seemed summed up by one of them, 'we do _so_ want to come closer to Jesus.'"