It may well be that I inherited my devotion to Roosevelt from my mother, but I rather think that it was her spirit in me that recognized in him the leader of those causes dear as life itself. January 11, 1911. J. went to see Henry James, whom he found in bed, very poorly. He is nervously ill and looks badly. Before the visit was over he jumped up and went about the house in his pyjamas and slippers, showing J. some pictures by his nephew, William James, son of the elder William. He brightened up wonderfully during the visit and seemed almost himself, J. says, before he left. * * * * * January 12, 1911. This morning I had a “bust of feeling” and wrote a note to Theodore Roosevelt, sending with it a volume of Mother’s poems and my “Sicily in Shadow and in Sun.” J. took them and found “Rosy” at Judge Lowell’s. He was most cordial and said he would try and look in on me that afternoon. He came, bringing Kermit, at four o’clock. Bridget the cook opened the door and said I was “out”! I heard a roar; “I am Theodore Roosevelt,” and flying to the head of the stairs I begged him to come up. He came roaring and magnificent into the room, looking, J. says, twenty years younger than the day he last saw him at Messina. * * * * * March 24, 1911. To-day, at long last was produced “Hippolytus”, the play Mama wrote for Edwin Booth, and that he and Charlotte Cushman were rehearsing when the jealousy of the stage manager’s wife, who had a part she did not like, prevented the production. This was a lifelong disappointment to Mother! The play, thanks to Margaret Anglin, was given at the Tremont Theatre with Walter Hampden in Booth’s part of Hippolytus and Margaret Anglin in Charlotte Cushman’s part of Phedra. The play was splendidly produced; Miss Anglin’s rendering of Phedra was admirable and Hampden was a perfect Hippolytus. The audience was deeply moved. The beauty of the lines is consummate. The play has pulse, passion, and dramatic climax. The youth and romance of it all impressed everybody. It has been a long hard struggle to have this play produced but I am rewarded. Miss Anglin is an angel, and Isabel Anderson and Betty Wiggins archangels, for having worked like Trojans for this. Miss Anglin is one of the serious and inspired actresses of the day, with temperament, beauty, charm, and that steadiness of character without which dramatic talent is so ineffectual. * * * * *