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"Compiled From Her Letters and Journals by Her Son Charles Edward Stowe"

Since then the Enemy has left me in peace.
It is our duty to assume that a thing which would be in its very
nature unkind, ungenerous, and unfair has not been done. What should
we think of the crime of that human being who should take a young mind
from circumstances where it was progressing in virtue, and throw it
recklessly into corrupting and depraving society? Particularly if it
were the child of one who had trusted and confided in Him for years.
No! no such slander as this shall the Devil ever fix in my mind
against my Lord and my God! He who made me capable of such an
absorbing, unselfish devotion for my children, so that I would
sacrifice my eternal salvation for them, He certainly did not make me
capable of more love, more disinterestedness than He has himself. He
invented mothers' hearts, and He certainly has the pattern in his own,
and my poor, weak rush-light of love is enough to show me that some
things can and some things cannot be done. Mr. Stowe said in his
sermon last Sunday that the mysteries of God's ways with us must be
swallowed up by the greater mystery of the love of Christ, even as
Aaron's rod swallowed up the rods of the magicians.
Papa and mamma are here, and we have been reading over the
"Autobiography and Correspondence." It is glorious, beautiful; but
more of this anon.
Your affectionate sister,
HATTIE.
ANDOVER, _August_ 24, 1857.


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