I am not writing this to show you my good or evil qualities,1 for I am confident you know them all. But my only wonder is, how you can put up with such treatment even from a brother. I write without flattery, for I am well assured you know it yourself—there is no one, under such circumstances, who would receive under his threshold such a brother. How often and often has it been said to me in Boston, by men in good standing in life, and by those who have only heard of you by hearsay, “James H. Garrison, I would give all I possess in this world to have such a brother.” But I have abused that brother's lenity, and how can I expect any clemency from his hands? I do not ask it; but one boon I crave: Forget you ever had such a brother. To-morrow I go into Boston. I thank you for your kindness this last time, for when I came out, I was laboring under the mania potu and deliriums, and my hand is not steady yet. I have suffered, and that greatly, this last few nights, with that terrible disease, which none knows but those who have experienced it: it is horrid, indescribable! I am sorry for poor Mary, Mother, and Helen. I know their feelings are mortified, but what will they be when they see this? But as I do not wish to conceal anything from them, I must expect their condemnation on him who has acted so improperly. I hope they will receive my thanks for their past kindness, the remembrance of which I shall hold dear in this throbbing bosom while life retains its empire. What I have written is facts without exaggeration. My mind could not rest until I had told you all. I stated it in writing, as I could not do it verbally, my mind being too much agitated. Mary Benson; Mrs. Sally Benson; Mrs. Garrison.The month in which James Garrison passed away was marked by two other deaths of much greater consequence. On Sunday, October 2, Channing breathed his last at2 Bennington, Vt.,3 close beside the printing-office in which Garrison had pledged himself to Lundy to make the cause of abolition his life-work. His last public effort had been in behalf of the slave, for at Lenox, on August 1st, he delivered an admirable address in eulogy of West India emancipation and of the anti-slavery enterprise in his own country. The next day, in Boston, Henry G. Chapman4 died in his thirty-ninth year, with Roman philosophy:
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