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children had the scarlet fever, and some of them, I believe, the lung or brain fever, and his wife the rheumatic fever; and, in addition to all his troubles, the funds of the Liberator fell short towards the end of the year, and he was without money for his necessary expenses, though I suppose he had credit.
All of which circumstances made the last a very trying year to him.’
Announcing his brother's demise to
G. W. Benson,
Mr. Garrison wrote:
‘As his case had long been hopeless, his release from the1 flesh is cause of consolation rather than of sorrow.
He retained his senses to the last, and died with all possible fortitude and resignation, being perfectly aware that his end was approaching. . . . I intend that the funeral arrangements and2 ceremonies shall be as plain, simple, and free, as possible.
Liberty of speech shall be given to all who may attend.
I shall probably have a testimony to bear against the war system, the navy, intemperance, etc., in connection with J.'s history, and also3 against that religion which sustains war and its murderous enginery.’4
It is hard to decide whether the story of
James Garrison's career would make a more powerful peace or temperance tract.
Certain is it that if fate had designed the most striking contrast in the fortunes of two children of the same parents, it need not have provided otherwise than it did in the case of this unhappy man and his brother.
At first glance it would appear as if the elder had simply inherited the vices of his father; the younger, the admirable virtues of his mother.
Doubtless the fondness
