Never have I known a nature of such strength, and such almost
childlike innocence. He is of a nature so sweet and perfect that,
though I have seen him thunderously indignant at moments, I never saw
him fretful or irritable,--a man who continuously, in every little act
of life, is thinking of others, a man that all the children on the
street run after, and that every sorrowful, weak, or distressed person
looks to as a natural helper. In all this long history there has been
no circumstance of his relation to any woman that has not been worthy
of himself,--pure, delicate, and proper; and I know all sides of it,
and certainly should not say this if there were even a misgiving.
Thank God, there is none, and I can read my New Testament and feel
that by all the beatitudes my brother is blessed.
His calmness, serenity, and cheerfulness through all this time has
uplifted us all. Where he was, there was no anxiety, no sorrow. My
brother's power to console is something peculiar and wonderful. I have
seen him at death-beds and funerals, where it would seem as if hope
herself must be dumb, bring down the very peace of Heaven and change
despair to trust. He has not had less power in his own adversity. You
cannot conceive how he is beloved, by those even who never saw him,
--old, paralytic, distressed, neglected people, poor seamstresses,
black people, who have felt these arrows shot against their benefactor
as against themselves, and most touching have been their letters of
sympathy.
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