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

!elections trom ber lettcrs
did wrong who left the world and restricted their
sympathies and their affections to their own narrow
circle.
But I begin to feel creeping over me a very strong
impulse to let the world go by, and drop behind into
a quiet nook,-there to stay, with the two or three
who love me, while the great " machine" rolls by
with its noise and dust. This, I say, is my impulse;
but I shall not yield to it, because I think it a selfish
one, and because I think it better for Botta that I
should not, as he is already too much disposed to
retire within his shell. It is clearly my duty to be
"a thorn in his side," and to prevent his becoming
too much a recluse and too hard a student. But society, as it is constituted, is certainly a very poor
affair, and pays a very small dividend on the investments in finery and carriage hire. Still, if I can do
something to make it better in my own house and
by my own example, do I not owe it to "posterity"
to do it,-although, as some one said, "posterity
has done nothing for us"?...
Ever truly yours, A. C. L. B.
My dear Friend:... I believe I have often quoted
to you these favorite lines:
Give me the spirit that on life's rough sea
Would have its sails filled with a lusty wind:
Even till the sail-yards tremble, the masts creak,
And the vast ship runs on her side, so low
That she drinks water, and her keel plows air.
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