rough baptism and confirmation, so
briefly states the letter written in her own hand and of date some
months back, retained; no doubt, through forgetfulness, until reminded.
The paper, of recent issue, tells of the ceremony at St. Peter's, which
admitted to the novitiate several noble ladies, native and foreign, and
among the rest an _artist_ of merit, Miss Lavinia La Vigne, of Georgia,
United States of America.

On the margin of the paper were a few penciled words in her own
handwriting: "I have found the reality." This was all.

I shall never see her again unless I go to Rome, and then only through a
grating, or in the presence of others like herself, for she has taken
the black veil, and retired behind a shadow deep as that cast from the
cypress-shaded tomb. Yet, under existing circumstances, and in
consideration of her early experiences which no success nor later future
could obliterate, or render less unendurable, I believe she has chosen
the wiser part.

Peace be with thee, Bertie, whether in earth or in heaven![7]

Our home overlooks the calm bay of San Francisco, standing, as it does,
on an eminence, surrounded with stately forest-trees, and dark from a
distance with evergreens which trail their majestic branches over roods
of lawn.

These trees have ever been a passion with me. I love their aromatic
odors, reminding one of balm and frankincense, and the great Temple of
Solomon itself, built of fine cedar-wood. I admire their stately
symmetry, and the majesty of their unchanging presence, and stand well
pleased and invigorated in their shadow.

Our house is built of stone, and faced with white marble brought from
beyond the seas. Its architectural details are composite, and yet of
dream-like beauty and perfection.

There are statues and blooming plants in the great lower corridors and
porticos, and vast hall of entrance, oval and open to the roof, with its
marble gallery surrounding it and suspended midway, secured by its
exquisite and lace-like screen of iron balustrading. Pictures of the
great modern masters adorn the walls.

The skylight above floods the whole house with sunshine at the touching
of a cord, which controls the venetians that in summer-time shade the
halls below; and the parlors, and saloon, and library, and dining-room,
and the quiet, spacious chambers above-stairs, are all admirably
proportioned and finished, and furnished as well, for the comfort of
those that abide in them--hosts a