Memoirs of Anne C.L. Botta,: written by her friends. With selections from her correspondence and from her writings in prose and poetry.

anne C. Z. cotta
Afterward, when the beautiful house in Thirtyseventh street opened its doors, everybody who by
attainment or quality deserved a welcome received
one. Mrs. Botta was the most delightful of hostesses
because she never remembered herself. The sincerity of her welcome, and her conviction of the agreeableness of her guests, made them always agreeable.
Or perhaps some large part of the perpetual pleasantness of the house was due to the pleasantness of the
domestic life within its walls. It is not often that
two people of like culture, of like interests, of like
pursuits, have the good fortune to live together for
half a lifetime, and thus to develop that delicate
intimacy of mind and heart that makes them ideal
comrades, as were the master and mistress of this
abode. If her charm of manner were her father's
legacy, the New England side of Mrs. Botta had its
full expression. She was a finished housekeeper,
her domestic administration being orderly, careful,
and regular. But she never sacrificed her home to
her house. The housekeeping was dainty that the
home might exist, and she said that she had long ago
learned the wisdom of being deaf, dumb, and blind
when the exigencies of household management required it. She was an exquisite needlewoman.
making the most artistic and elegant of trifles, and
even sewing seams, if need were. But of late years
she used laughingly to declare it a kind of irreligion
for those women to sew who could afford to hire
sewing, because, in every case, it defrauded two persons of their rights. She had a great talent for
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