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

$elections from lber wctters
the other a varied and most picturesque landscape.
Two hours of such tranquil enjoyment as I had in my
solitary walk this morning, and of such sweet and
pleasant thoughts, are enough to last one for a week,
if they are not too exacting, and certainly more than
most people have. I came home devoutly thankful
to God that he permitted me to exist in a world of
so much beauty, and asking nothing more than I possess. If one could always feel so! But then, it is
well doubtless to have some drawback, some alloy to
the happiness we are capable of enjoying, or it would
make " this life of ours too fair for aught so fleet."
I have been reading to-day the gospel of John; and
the more I read the New Testament, the less it seems
to me is the spirit of modern Christianity in harmony
with it: its simple and sublime precepts seem so
often lost in an empty formalism, in sectarian bitterness, and Pharisaical goodness. But do not think,
I pray you, that I would condemn others, or judge
them, only so far as I necessarily must to make my
own decisions of conduct and life.
What a beautiful example we have in those memorable words, "Let him who is without sin among
you, cast the first stone." If we only followed this
one principle, what a change there would be in our
society. But at some future time we will argue
those points on which we differ, if you choose. I
am not fond of argument at any time; but to-day,
especially, it is out of place. God, nature, and my
own soul seem to be in such harmony that I would
not be disturbed by a question or a doubt.
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