to produce a genius.

I often think of that rarely endowed friend in full faith that she now
has the joys denied her here, and that her many-sided nature is
allowed progress, full and free and far, in many directions. I am also
sure that Heaven could not be Heaven to Mrs. Botta if she were not
able to take soul flights and use wireless telegraphy to still help
those she left behind, and hope that she can return to greet and
guide us as we reach the unknown land.

Through the kind suggestions of Mrs. Botta, I was asked to give talks
on literary matters at the house of one of New York's most influential
citizens. This I enjoyed immensely. Soon the large drawing-rooms were
too small for the numbers who came. Next we went to the Young Women's
Christian Association, to the library there, and later I decided to
engage the church parlours in Doctor Howard Crosby's Church, Fourth
Avenue and Twenty-second Street, New York. When I realized my
audacious venture, I was frightened. Ten lectures had been advertised
and some not written!

On the day for my first lecture the rain poured down, and I felt sure
of a failure. My sister went with me to the church. As we drew near I
noticed a string of carriages up and down the avenue. "There must be a
wedding or a funeral," I whispered, feeling more in the mood of the
latter, but never dreaming how much those carriages meant to me. As I
went timidly into the room I found nearly every seat full, and was
greeted with cordial applause. My sister took a seat beside me. My
subject was "Spinster Authors of England." My hands trembled so
visibly that I laid my manuscript on the table, but after getting in
magnetic touch with those before me, I did not mind.