Thursday, February 13, 2014

John Brown to Owen Brown Sr., January 16, 1848

SPRINGFIELD, MASS., 16th Jan., 1848.

DEAR FATHER, — It is Sabbath evening; and as I have waited now a long time expecting a letter from you, I have concluded to wait no longer for you to write to me. I received the Hudson paper giving an account of the death of another of our family. I expected to get a letter from you, and so have been waiting ever since getting the paper. I never seemed to possess a faculty to console and comfort my friends in their grief; I am inclined, like the poor comforters of Job, to sit down in silence, lest in my miserable way I should only add to their grief. Another feeling that I have in your case, is an entire consciousness that I can bring before your mind no new source of consolation, nor mention any which, I trust, you have not long since made full proof of. I need not say that I know how to sympathize with you; for that you equally well understand. I will only utter one word of humble confidence, — “Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him, and bless His name forever.” We are all in health here, but have just been taking another lesson on the uncertainty of all we hold here. One week ago yesterday, Oliver found some root of the plant called hemlock, that he supposed was carrot, and eat some of it. In a few minutes he was taken with vomiting and dreadful convulsions, and soon became senseless. However, by resorting to the most powerful emetics he was recovered from it, like one raised from the dead, almost.

The country in this direction has been suffering one of the severest money pressures known for many years. The consequence to us has been, that some of those who have contracted for wool of us are as yet unable to pay for and take the wool as they agreed, and we are on that account unable to close our business. This, with some trouble and perplexity, is the greatest injury we have suffered by it. We have had no winter as yet scarcely, the weather to-day being almost as warm as summer. We want to hear how you all are very much, and all about how you get along. I hope to visit you in the spring. Farewell.

Your affectionate, unworthy son,
JOHN BROWN.

SOURCE: Franklin B. Sanborn, The Life and Letters of John Brown, p. 24-5

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