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Francis Jackson Garrison, William Lloyd Garrison, 1805-1879; the story of his life told by his children: volume 3 64 0 Browse Search
The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 7. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier) 52 0 Browse Search
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Harvard Memorial Biographies 50 0 Browse Search
Cambridge History of American Literature: volume 3 (ed. Trent, William Peterfield, 1862-1939., Erskine, John, 1879-1951., Sherman, Stuart Pratt, 1881-1926., Van Doren, Carl, 1885-1950.) 46 0 Browse Search
George Bancroft, History of the Colonization of the United States, Vol. 1, 17th edition. 44 0 Browse Search
Francis Jackson Garrison, William Lloyd Garrison, 1805-1879; the story of his life told by his children: volume 1 42 0 Browse Search
Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Documents and Narratives, Volume 1. (ed. Frank Moore) 35 1 Browse Search
The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 6. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier) 34 0 Browse Search
James Redpath, The Public Life of Captain John Brown 32 0 Browse Search
Robert Lewis Dabney, Life and Commands of Lieutenand- General Thomas J. Jackson 29 1 Browse Search
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ny, a book — in which he made an argument against Christianity, striving to prove that the Bible was not inspired, and therefore not God's revelation, and that Jesus Christ was not the son of God. The manuscript containing these audacious and comprehensive propositions he intended to have published or given a wide circulation in ould have been more miraculous to have come about by chance than to have been created and arranged by some great thinking power. As to the Christian theory that Christ is God or equal to the Creator, he said that it had better be taken for granted; for by the test of reason we might become infidels on that subject, for evidence of Christ's divinity came to us in a somewhat doubtful shape; but that the system of Christianity was an ingenious one at least, and perhaps was calculated to do good. Jesse W. Fell, to whom Lincoln first confided the details of his biography, furnishes a more elaborate account of the latter's religious views than anyone else. I
at one from Massachusetts, to deliver an eulogy on Lincoln. Their estimates of him are in many cases disgraceful exhibitions of ignorance and prejudice. Their effeminate natures shrink instinctively from the contact of a great reality like Lincoln's character. I consider Lincoln's republicanism incarnate — with all its faults and all its virtues. As, in spite of some rudeness, republicanism is the sole hope of a sick world, so Lincoln, with all his foibles, is the greatest character since Christ. In 1863 Mr. Lincoln was informed one morning that among the visitors in the ante-room of the White House was a man who claimed to be his relative. He walked out and was surprised to find his boyhood friend and cousin, Dennis Hanks. The latter had come to see his distinguished relative on a rather strange mission. A number of persons living in Coles County, in Illinois, offended at the presence and conduct of a few soldiers who were at home from the war on furlough at the town of Cha
for his vainglorious attempt to preach with Mr. Bascom uppermost in his mind. In the afternoon Mr. Clay sought his friend, feeling great solicitude lest he were ill as the solution of the fiasco. As soon as he entered Mr. Bascom's apartments, the minister came forward to greet him cordially, saying: My friend, I know what brings you here. I know how completely I failed in my sermon this morning. I was preaching Mr. Bascom in all his glory, but wait until next Sunday, and I will preach Jesus Christ crucified, and you will have no cause to blush for me. And he fully redeemed his promise. The gigantic form of Elder Heap looms up before me as I look back through the veil of tears and time that has shut out those familiar scenes. He was one of nature's noblemen, and did the work of his Master most effectively. Father Thatcher, that learned and eccentric Methodist divine, whose rugged character was reflected in a most remarkable physiognomy and physique, was another of that wo
father's ring the angelic face of a sister appeared at the little grated panel in the door, and, upon father's announcing his name, she quickly unlocked the door and invited us into the parlor. Under the influence of her gentle manner and the immaculate appointment of the room, together with the bright wood-fire in the fireplace, I began to feel less frightened. After seating us, the sister withdrew to call the sister superior. Before Sister Isabella came in, I had scanned the pictures of Christ on the Cross, Saint Anthony, and other saints on the walls; admired the pretty rag carpet, old mahogany furniture, and literally everything in the parlor, down to the fine old brass andirons and fender. In a few moments Sister Isabella came in. She was short and very stout, had a jolly face, and the cordial greeting so important in a mother superior. She drew me close to her, and, in a voice of tenderness, welcomed me as one of her girls. I soon forgot my terror, and thought her cap and
men, and the happiest people, on earth. Under a mysterious Providence, millions of the coloured race have been saved from the foulest paganism; millions mentally and morally elevated far above those of their native land, and multitudes saved in Christ forever. Is it God's purpose to break up this system? Who can believe that it was His will to do it by war and bloodshed? Or that turning this people loose without preparation, a rapid demoralization, idleness, poverty and vice should doom so mbers with actual starvation? Must a war of races come? Must a spirit of bitter hatred burn on between the sections of our unhappy country? Why not one of peace and forgiveness instead? Why not the healing balm of love? Why not the spirit of Christ, pervading all hearts, and binding up all wounds? God of love, hasten the day! We are verily in need of His gracious assistance. We have cried to Him through many a gloomy day. The days are dark and dreary still. The old South has passed away
in the cars again, on our melancholy return. On the third day his dear remains were brought to us, and the mother saw her heroic son, in his plain soldier's coffin, but beautiful in death, committed to God's own earth, having fallen in a glorious cause, in the faith of the Gospel, and with a bright hope of a blessed immortality. The young Kentucky friend who accompanied his remains told her his last words, which were a wonderful consolation to her: Tell my mother that I die in the faith of Christ; her early instructions have been greatly blessed to me; and my last word is, Mother. This was said in extreme weakness. He soon slept, and never awoke in this world. One young soldier said to me that night, at Manassas: He was one of the bravest men I ever saw, and met death like a soldier. Another said: He died like a Christian. Scarcely had we buried him, when news was brought us that her younger, now her only son, was desperately ill on the steamer Jamestown, on James River-he belo
d effect. It is the first time that such a thing has ever darkened the annals of Richmond. God grant it may be the last. I fear that the poor suffer very much; meal was selling to-day at $16 per bushel. It has been bought up by speculators. Oh that these hard-hearted creatures could be made to suffer Strange that men with human hearts can, in these dreadful times, thus grind the poor. Good-Friday, April 3, 1863. The Bishop preached for us to-day most delightfully from the text: Jesus Christ and him crucified. In the afternoon Mrs. S. had the inexpressible pleasure of welcoming her son, Mr. A. S., from the Western Army. He thinks that Vicksburg and Port Hudson are both impregnable. God grant that it may be so! April 4th, 1863. Spent to-day in Richmond, attending on the wounded. The mob of women came out yesterday, but in smaller numbers, and was easily put down by military authority. To-day a repetition was expected, and the cannon was in place to rake the streets,
ng many brother soldiers in the Cemetery of the University of Virginia. He died in the faith of Christ, and with the glorious hope of immortality. His poor mother is heart-stricken, but she, togetheurns we must by baptism receive him into the Church on earth, praying that he may be a member of Christ, a child of God, and an inheritor of the kingdom of heaven. This rite thus early administered, things a paper of pins. She says she could not help saying, as she turned to him, A minister of Christ stealing pins!! In a moment the chaplain was gone, but the pins were returned to the bureau. Mowed his love by his anxious care of his beloved captain. After saying to him a few words about Christ and his free salvation, offering up a fervent prayer in which he seemed to join, and watching thwas still his daily companion; from it he seemed to derive great comfort and an abiding faith in Christ his Saviour. December 17th, 1864. The military movements are important, but to what they t
Robert Stiles, Four years under Marse Robert, Chapter 3: from New York to Richmond (search)
e and a splendid sweeping moustache. Every now and then I heard from some man or officer of his battery, or of Pegram's Battalion, some special praise of his gallantry in action, but as he was in A. P. Hill's command and I then in Longstreet's, we seldom met. I am confident there is no battle-scarred veteran of Pegram's Battalion living to-day but stands ready to vouch for Beers as the equal of any soldier in the command, and some of them tenderly recall him as a good and true soldier of Jesus Christ as well as of Robert Lee. He was in the habit of holding religious services with the men of his battalion on every fitting occasion-services which they highly appreciated. Just after the battle of Chancellorsville I was in Richmond, having recently received an appointment in engineer troops. I am unable to recall the details, but I was notified to meet poor Beers' body at the train. Colonel, afterwards General, R. L. Walker (Lindsay Walker), commanding A. P. Hill's artillery, hearin
Robert Stiles, Four years under Marse Robert, Chapter 11: religious life of Lee's Army (search)
sylvania for almost a full month after Chancellorsville, and what became of this month to me I cannot say, except that I went where I was ordered, and do not recall meeting the Howitzers again until after Gettysburg. On his way to his last battle this splendid youth wrote to his family a brief note, in which he said: In the hurry of the march I have little time for thought, but whenever my eternal interests do occur to me, I feel entire assurance of full and free pardon through Jesus Christ, and if called upon to die this moment I think I could do so cheerfully. These were the last words he ever wrote. After Gettysburg I rode over to the old battery and they told me this story. On the last day, worn with that tremendous fight, two of our guns had taken up their last position. All thought the struggle over. Allan had just seen a friend on the staff who promised to, and did, send word home of his safety at the close of the battle. Suddenly a terrific fire burst thu
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