The blessing of my mother’s presence lingered in some subtle manner in our Roman dwelling after she left; now that she knew our surroundings and friends, I never again felt so far away from her or from home, and wrote with greater freedom than before of the life she had shared. Her letters to me show that her last winter in her beloved Rome was tenderly remembered. 241 Beacon St., March 6, 1899. My dearest Ewe-lamb: Here I sit in the dear old house which you helped so much to provide for my old age and at the desk where I have ground out the tasks so many years. My book of poems, “From Sunset Ridge”, is just out. I don’t expect to make any money by it, but am glad to have the poems preserved. I have corrected the proofs for my first installment of my “Reminiscences” for the _Atlantic Monthly_. When you last wrote me you were in Lucca. I did not know it was so rich in works of art. You must by now be settled in your pretty nest. Give my love to the flowers--how I did enjoy them and what a good time I had with you. Your two dear letters just received bring you so near to me that I must write you one word this very day to say how much of your life and cheer these letters bring me. I seem to smell the very atmosphere of the Rusticucci, to see the pictures on the wall, to hear N. asking for his daily orders. What you say about the Monsignore reassures me; you must not think for one minute that I undervalue your native good sense and power of discernment, only “_them Jesuits_” is very cunning people and I had a momentary spasm of fear which your dear letter has removed. There were so many ecclesiastics among the habitués of our house that it is not wonderful my mother feared I might like my cousins join the Church of Rome. I have warm friends among the clergy, but never for an instant, while living under the very shadow of the Vatican, did I feel the faintest inclination to change the religion in which I was bred. Was it some trait inherited from my ancestor, that old cavalry officer, John Ward of Oliver Cromwell’s army, who after the Restoration took refuge in Rhode Island, that made me so indifferent to the strong influences that from time to time were brought to bear upon me? I like to think so, and that in whatever else I have failed, I have kept the faith! [To my Mother.]