California, Feb. 21, 1911.

"Dear Mrs. Stevenson:

"I feel most highly honored and pleased with your kind order of the
15th instant for 25 Patagonian strawberry plants, which were sent out
yesterday.... You can never know the regard and love in which Mr.
Stevenson is held in thousands of hearts who have never expressed
themselves to you.

"Sincerely yours,

"Luther Burbank."

The story of Fanny Stevenson's life at Stonehedge is one of the still
peace that she loved more and more as time went on, almost its only
excitements being the blooming of a new flower, the digging of a well,
or perhaps the trying out of an electric pump. The hurly-burly of the
world was far away from that quiet spot, and only the arrival of the
daily mail by rural carrier, or an infrequent visitor from some one of
the country houses in the neighbourhood, broke the sweet monotony of
existence. Of the simple pleasures of her life here she writes to her
husband's cousin, Graham Balfour, in these words:

"As I write, my delightful Japanese boy, Yonida, brings me in a great
bunch of violets in one hand and quantities of yellow poppies in the
other, while in front of me stands an immense vase of sweet peas--all
just plucked from my garden. I wish that you might share them with me,
and that you might hear the mocking-bird that is singing by my window.
A mocking-bird is not a night-in-gale, to be sure, but he has a fine
song of his own. I have such a nice little household; my two Japanese
young men, who do gardening and such things; a most excellent, very
handsome, middle-aged cook named Kate Romero, who, in spite of her
name is half Irish and half English; and Mary Boyle, altogether Irish
and altogether a most delightful creature. The most important member
of the family, however, is my cat; Kitson is a full-bred Siamese royal
temple cat, and is quite aware of his exalted pedigree. He exacts all
and gives nothing. There are times when I should prefer more affection
and less _hauteur_. He's a proud cat, and loves no one but Kitson."

This cat, a strange creature coloured like a tawny lion, with face,
tail, and paws a chocolate brown, and large bright-blue eyes staring
uncannily from his dark countenance, possibly had more affection than
his haughty manner indicated, for, after his mistress's death, he
refused food and soon followed her into the other world, if so be that
cats are admitt