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MH Beede to Rachel Stevens

Pawtucket. 11 month. 20 1861

My dear friend

Rachel B.Stevens

While sitting in my quiet room to pen a line to an acquaintance; now, of many years; I
am too feebly sensible of the work of disease upon me, holding me prisoner most of the time
for eight months, and latterly, to my house, even to hope to put on paper anything more than
an indication of my deep sympathy for thee, and those around thee, under the infliction of a
wound upon the maternal heart and one, carrying its pangs through the loved circle of home.

Little indeed, when writing thee and thy beloved children, after our peaceful return
from Vermont, could I have conceived for thee, a cup so near at hand, wrung out to fullness,
and mingled, not only with gall, but overrunning with tears of sorrow.

That a tenderly cherished son, in his ready association with persons who, at this sad
time, feel no scruples in regard to self defense or to defensive warfare, should imbibe, by
degrees, the sentiment, that the necessities of the nation must lay upon us a moral obligation
which takes away the entire force of the Divine command; 'resist not eveil, love your enemies;'
and give that moral obligation a kind of over-strained religious sanction, is, to my mind nothing
strange - it is in perfect conformity with the spirit of this world; the dust of whose tumultuous
stir is found too frequently blinding to the eyes of older children than our sons. Still, the
frequency of the evilis no more a mitigation of the anguish of the heart which it brings, than, to the
sinking sufferer by disease, would be the assurance that he is, only one of a thousand, who are
languishing under the same fatal malady.

To our short vision, the future is always wisely, and often mercifully had [?]. And few can
say more honestly than thou; 'my heart knoweth it right well.' Yet when seriously thinking of
this dear child; I have remembered the quieting suggestion of Paul to the Master of Onessinus;
'perhaps he departed from thee, for a season, that thou mightest receive him again, forever' -
that is; no more to leave thee.

Trust him, dear Rachel, in the hands of that most merciful being who numbers the very
hairs of our heads and who suffers not unnoticed a sparrow to fall. There, doubtless, are many,
there are thousands, to whom the carnage of the field will open scenes, that will not need a
tongue to plead; and to whom the thunders of the siege, more awful than those which roll
along the lightning-parted skies, will bring convictions of the worth and sacredness of human
lefi, that will not leave needful another Sinai nor another appointed Law giver, to proclaim the
sacredness of the Law, 'Thou shalt not kill.'

I am aware of the impotent cavil of fighting men, in view of this command; that it is only
a forbiddance of the Hebrew to kill a brother Hebrew; but with Gentiles they were under no
restraint. Let it so be. But under the Gospel, we are all brethren; and One oi our Marter
[martyr]; whose kingdom is not of this world. And what a coment [comment] on Christianity
have we before us?

The Bishop and his clergy and his laymen; the minister of every Church, (besides us)
with his flock; the sober nonpreofessor, and the self-reliant infidel of the South, all harmonize in
challenge to arms [?], to the same embodiments of the North; and with hands uplifted to the

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