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

R~Colutions
cookery, composed an occasional dish with the deli cacy of a cordon bleu, and was not at a loss if her
cook departed without notice. Her artistic side is
better known to most of us perhaps. She used to
draw and paint in earlier days, and for sculpture it
may be said with all restraint that she had genius.
When a portrait bust of her modeling was lately sent
to Rome to be put into marble, the foremost of
Italian sculptors, not knowing its maker, declared
that nothing would be beyond the reach of the artist
if he would come to Rome and study technique for a
year.
These things should be spoken of here, because
Mrs. Botta was so modest that nobody would ever
have learned from her that she had any special gift or
grace. To praise her literary work is superfluous, but
it should, perhaps, be added that her literary taste
was perfect, and that she proved herself an able critic
by not being hypercritical. She felt the author's intention and endeavor, and she recognized the success of that which is often called failure.
But, after all, her true genius was a moral genius.
Her life is the one finished and perfect work which is
left to us. She saw, as she once said, that for each of us
nature lays broad the foundations of a divine building,
if the soul will build thereon -— and her soul did build.
In one respect she seemed almost unique among
women. Her judgments had no personal bias. If
you were unjust to her, or indifferent, or misrepresented her, that made no difference in her attitude
toward you. She still praised your excellencies. If
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