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

a etter or conoo[lence
or disturb her temper. I should myself be the most
ungrateful of mankind if I forgot the thoughtful affection which she showed to me-who had no claim
upon her -so often and in so many ways.
To you, my dear Mr. Botta, whose existence was
so wrapped up in hers, all this must seem a poor, and
perhaps intrusive, tribute to her worth. But there is
a pleasure in telling you what I felt for her, and in
letting you see that her goodness to me was not
thrown away.
What you suffer I know too vell from my own
experience. The young, who have their work before
them, find relief from time and employment. You
and I have little to do but sit still and wait till
we pass away ourselves and carry our memories
along with us. I used to think death frightful. I
think now that it has been kindly ordered. If it be
alarming to die, what would it be if we were told
that we were never to die? That would be worst
of all.
I cannot say whether we shall ever meet again, but
you will perhaps now and then think of me as one
who can never cease, while he lives, to remember
your lost wife.
69
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