For her friends and mine: a book of aspirations, dreams and memories . pense, avrai dire, elle ny pensa jamais. * * * La vertu netait pas chez ellele fruit dune theorie, mais le resultat dun pli absolu de natur. Elle fitle bien, pour le bien et non pour son salut. * * * Que son souvenirnous reste comme un precieux argument de ces verites eternelles que chaquevie vertueuse contribue a demontrer. 45 Following these fragmentary notes I have placed parts ofthree of her letters (describing Baracoa and Naples), and anappreciation by two of her neighbors who describe better thanI could hope to do it
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For her friends and mine: a book of aspirations, dreams and memories . pense, avrai dire, elle ny pensa jamais. * * * La vertu netait pas chez ellele fruit dune theorie, mais le resultat dun pli absolu de natur. Elle fitle bien, pour le bien et non pour son salut. * * * Que son souvenirnous reste comme un precieux argument de ces verites eternelles que chaquevie vertueuse contribue a demontrer. 45 Following these fragmentary notes I have placed parts ofthree of her letters (describing Baracoa and Naples), and anappreciation by two of her neighbors who describe better thanI could hope to do it certain of her salient traits. At her request I burned her body, and I have thrown her ashesinto the sea and scattered them along the shore of her belovedWoods Hole (vide Sonnet XXXVI). Upon the reverse of the beautiful low relief of her face madeby Mr. Victor D. Brenner, the sculptor, he engraved the follow-ing words from Victor Hugos drama, Les Bur graves, which may fittingly close this introduction: * * * Souffrir, Rever, puis sen aller. Cest le sort de la femme.. 46 BARACOA. [April, 1904.] Baracoa is the most quaint and foreign place we have yet seen.Situated on a small harbor, surrounded by palm-coveredmountains, the low, red-tiled, brightly colored houses climbingup the hill, highest of all the old Spanish fort, with blue stuccoedwalls and red-tiled roof, and the ocean stretching away to theeast and thundering on the coral shore—it has a most picturesqueaspect. Last week was Holy Week, and we have had the opportunityof seeing processions and ceremonies which make one think ofthe Middle Ages. Our hotel faces the triangular plaza at thebroad end of which is the Catholic Church, a rude brick building, not very old, and poorly furnished and very dirty. The Cubansare indifferent to dirt to a degree very offensive to northernpeople. The church has few seats and the people bring theirown chairs and rugs. The swallows fly in and out of the buildingand dogs wander about it at wil