Thanks to cousin, blog reader, and James K Sayles descendant,
Sharon Babcock, for sharing her stash of family artifacts.
Christiansville, Mecklenburg Co. Va.
Wednesday P.M., April 10, 1872
My Dear Brother James,
Yours of March 14, was duly received, and somewhat astonished me with its announcement of your affliction. If my sympathy could cure you, it is sincerely at your disposal. I know that kind words can soothe the spirit, though they may not heal the infirmities. “that flesh is heir to.” Nevertheless the spirits’ wounds and diseases are far more incurable than those of the body. This great world of humanity is a mass of bodily rotenness (sic); but its infirmities of spirit create a stench that rises high Heaven and sinks deeper than Hell! Believe you this? In man there is no help. He has sought for panaceas. He pompously proclaims his discoveries. The simple pay their money and swallow his nostrums; make wry faces and die! Still, untaught by failure, they pour out their golden gifts, hoping for relief, though half-persuaded they have been humbugged. But, when told the more alarming disease of the inner man, they open wide the eyes of incredulity, give you a broad grin—a regular alligator grin—turn away, and say, “I guess you’r (sic) joking.” So on they fare; from generation to generation.
I am rambling. Let me come back. You are sick of palsy. Nothing to be trifled with. Your physician will, of course, try to bring about recovery—may succed (sic) –hopeable. You allude to your religious faith in the matter. A sincere, calm trust in Providence is of more consequence than all else: that, however, is really effective only when our xxxx takes the life of the Son of Mary as his modle (sic), after which he is willing closely to pattern. I have spent years in studying these matters, and my Father has gradually opened to me the whole scheme, scope and aim of human life, with all the human faculties and susceptibilities. He gave us the exhibition of the Life of Jesus, as the modle(sic) of a perfect man. Through Him He promises to confer on the perfect man Immortal Life; and, in the resuscitation of the mangled carcass of Jesus, after a death of nearly three days, He demonstrates His power to fulfill His promises. Now, all this is strictly scientific, if we make our scientific basis broad enough: if we make it too narrow we fail to reach this great fact. The narrow-based scientist and the narrow-based religionist are forever at loggerheads. Both are dogmatic: both wrong. The scientist sees just to the end of his nose, and thinks that the whole universe. The religionist scarcely sees from our corner of his eye to the other yet he thinks nothing worth seeing, which he don’t (sic) such are the facts in the case. IF your religion rests on a ‘scientific basis’, be sure that your basis is broad enough.
Anything I write, let anybody read who will.
And Anna—that little chub-faced, flax haired, blue-eyed blond-is a bona fideschool marm! Well, I hope she is a live one: but I can only think of her as that little girl that used to sit on my knee. Ah! That was eight years ago! How they fly! Since then, what a multitude of facts have occurred in my own life history! Yes, Anna has had ample time to develop into womanhood. I xxxxxxx old, grey headed man! Astonishing! Isn’t it? You are five and a half years my junior. You are in your fiftieth year: and Lucinda, well, I don’t know how old she is; nor does it matter: old-womanhood is sure to overtake her soon. You speak of Frankey. Who is Frankey? I have not had an introduction: and this is coming it rather on the side cut. Well, I hope both you and Frankey will recover, now that spring is really on. Our peach trees have been in bloom for three days. A cool dry wind is blowing from the west today. We have been
The rest of the letter is missing.