Just the record of his Sunday sermons, and his
remarks upon them, would be most instructive to a, preacher. He was a
regular communicant, and, beside, attended church on Christmas and
Easter,--I cannot but love the old man. He died without seeing even
the dawn of liberty which God has brought; but oh! I am sure he sees
it from above. He died in the Capitol, in the midst of his labors, and
the last words he said were, 'This is the last of earth; I am
content.' And now, I trust, he is with God.
"All, all are gone. All that raged; all that threatened; all the
cowards that yielded; truckled, sold their country for a mess of
pottage; all the _men_ that stood and bore infamy and scorn for
the truth; all are silent in dust; the fight is over, but eternity
will never efface from their souls whether they did well or ill--
whether they fought bravely or failed like cowards. In a sense, our
lives are irreparable. If we shrink, if we fail, if we choose the
fleeting instead of the eternal, God may forgive us; but there must be
an eternal regret! This man lived for humanity when hardest bestead;
for truth when truth was unpopular; for Christ when Christ stood
chained and scourged in the person of the slave."
In the fall of 1887 she writes to her brother Rev. Dr. Edward Beecher
of Brooklyn, N. Y.:--
49 FOREST STREET, HARTFORD, CONN., _October_ 11, 1887.
Dear Brother,--I was delighted to receive your kind letter.
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