History, 1838–1856, volume B-1 [1 September 1834–2 November 1838]

  • Source Note
  • Historical Introduction
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as yours, or something to that effect, (I should have said that I  <December 18.  Joseph’s Letter to   Continued.> helped finish the house.) I said it merely to show that it could not  be the right spirit that would rise up for trifling matters, and  undertake to put me to silence. I saw that your indignation  was kindled against me, and you made towards me, I was  not then to be moved, and I thought to pull off my loose  coat, least it should tangle me, and you be left to hurt  me, but not with the intention of hurting you: but you was too  soon for me, and having once falling fallen into the hands of a mob  and been wounded in my side, and now into the hands  of a brother, my side gave way, and after having been res cued from your grasp, I left your house with feelings indis cribeable: the scenery had changed, and all those expectation  that I had cherished, when going to your house, of brotherly  kindness, charity, forbearance, and natural affection, that in  duty binds us not to make each others offenders for a word.
But alas! Abuse, anger, malice, hatred, and rage with  a lame side, with marks of violence heaped upon me with  by a brother, were the reflection of my disappointment, and  with these I returned home, not able to sit down, or rise  up, without help, but through the blessing of God I am now  better. I received your letter and perused it with  care. I have not entertained a feeling of malice against you.  I am older than you and have endured more suffering, having  been marred by mobs, the labors of my calling, a series of per secutions and injuries continually heaped upon me, all serve  to debilitate my body, and it may be that I cannot boast  of being stronger than you. If I could or could not, would  this be an honor, or dishonor to me! If I could boast like  David of slaying a Goliath, who defied the armies of the living  God, or like Paul, of contending with Peter face to face with  sound arguments, it might be an honor; but to mangle  the flesh or seek revenge upon one who never done you any  wrong, cannot be a source of sweet reflection, to you, nor  to me: neither to an honorable father and mother, brothers  and sisters; and when we reflect with what care, and  with what unremitting diligence our parents have strove  to watch over us, and how many hours of sorrow, and  anxiety they have spent over our cradles and bed sides  in times of sickness, how careful we ought to be of their  feelings in their old age. It cannot be a source of sweet  reflection to us, to say any thing that will bring  their grey hairs down with sorrow to the grave.
In your letter you asked my forgiveness, which I readily  grant, but it seems to me that you still retain an idea  that I have given you reasons to be angry or disaffected  with me. Grant me the privilege of saying then, that how ever hasty or harsh I may have spoken at any time to you [p. 670]
as yours, or something to that effect, (I should have said that I December 18. Joseph’s Letter to Continued. helped finish the house.) I said it merely to show that it could not be the right spirit that would rise up for trifling matters, and undertake to put me to silence. I saw that your indignation was kindled against me, and you made towards me, I was not then to be moved, and I thought to pull off my loose coat, least it should tangle me, and you be left to hurt me, but not with the intention of hurting you: but you was too soon for me, and having once fallen into the hands of a mob and been wounded in my side, and now into the hands of a brother, my side gave way, and after having been rescued from your grasp, I left your house with feelings indiscribeable: the scenery had changed, and all those expectation that I had cherished, when going to your house, of brotherly kindness, charity, forbearance, and natural affection, that in duty binds us not to make each other offenders for a word.
But alas! Abuse, anger, malice, hatred, and rage with a lame side, with marks of violence heaped upon me by a brother, were the reflection of my disappointment, and with these I returned home, not able to sit down, or rise up, without help, but through the blessing of God I am now better. I received your letter and perused it with care. I have not entertained a feeling of malice against you. I am older than you and have endured more suffering, having been marred by mobs, the labors of my calling, a series of persecutions and injuries continually heaped upon me, all serve to debilitate my body, and it may be that I cannot boast of being stronger than you. If I could or could not, would this be an honor, or dishonor to me! If I could boast like David of slaying a Goliath, who defied the armies of the living God, or like Paul, of contending with Peter face to face with sound arguments, it might be an honor; but to mangle the flesh or seek revenge upon one who never done you any wrong, cannot be a source of sweet reflection, to you, nor to me: neither to an honorable father and mother, brothers and sisters; and when we reflect with what care, and with what unremitting diligence our parents have strove to watch over us, and how many hours of sorrow, and anxiety they have spent over our cradles and bed sides in times of sickness, how careful we ought to be of their feelings in their old age. It cannot be a source of sweet reflection to us, to say any thing that will bring their grey hairs down with sorrow to the grave.
In your letter you asked my forgiveness, which I readily grant, but it seems to me that you still retain an idea that I have given you reasons to be angry or disaffected with me. Grant me the privilege of saying then, that however hasty or harsh I may have spoken at any time to you [p. 670]
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