. Wipe out the past, the wrongs, the unnatural strife, And the red blood that English hands have poured From English veins. War is a curse; but war Betwixt one race, one kindred, doubly cursed." What gain in war? No gain; but loss of much Of life, of treasure. The weaker falls: what honor to the strong? O war! what honor hast thou? Honor none. We send him home Who showed a better way. With good, not ill, He taught us love; and let us learn the theme, — And, mingling tears in one long sorrow, swear H. C. P. The pulpit on both sides of the Atlantic gave its voice in favor of his beneficence, and made the name of GEORGE PEABODY a household word. The following is a list of his donations, in a convenient form for reference; and it embraces all the more important public gifts of Mr. Peabody to various institutions and charities during his lifetime, including the bequests contained in his last will and testament: To the State of Maryland, for negotiating the loan of $8,000,000, $60,000 To the Peabody Institute, Baltimore, Md., including accrued in To Libraries in Georgetown, Mass., and Thetford, Vt. 10,000 To Kane's Arctic Expedition... 10,000 To different Sanitary Fairs... 10,000. 40,000 To unpaid moneys advanced to uphold the credit of States.... Total...... .$8,470,000 In addition to the above, Mr. Peabody made a large number of donations for various public purposes, ranging in sums from two hundred and fifty to one thousand dollars, and extending back as far as the year 1835. The amount of property left by him at his death is estimated at about four million dollars in value. With the exception of a few bequests in the will, this amount is directed to be distributed among his relatives, including one brother, one sister, and about fourteen nephews and nieces. On his last visit to this country, he divided among them one million five hundred thousand dollars; and the property left at his death is to be distributed in the same proportions to each as were awarded by him in that gift. CHAPTER XX. THOUGHTS SUGGESTED. The Lessons of George Peabody's Life. - Money is Power. - A Consecrated Purse is that of Fortunatus. "We tell thy doom without a sigh; For thou art Freedom's now, and Fame's, One of the few, the immortal names That were not born to die."- HALLECK. "Be not overcome of evil; but overcome evil with good."— Rom. xii. 21. RACE GREENWOOD paid a beautiful tribute to Mr. Peabody in an article entitled "The Good Giver." We have only space for a part of her true words. She said, "The honors paid to the memory of the late George Peabody are a cheering sign of the state of moral sentiment in England. The English people, from the Queen to her humblest subject, reverenced this good giver as no other American citizen was ever reverenced in the mother-country. It shows that deeds of benevolence are getting to be more esteemed than deeds of valor, even in that land of military heroes. "When this man died, as he had lived, a simple American citizen, the honors paid him by the great of his adopted country were personal rather than national tributes, altogether voluntary and loving; while his sincerest mourners were among the humblest of the poor. The blessing of those ready to perish' canopied his hearse. We may almost think of angels as walking in his funeralprocession. 6 "Would that our rich capitalists might take home the lesson of George Peabody's wise and generous benefactions, and allow themselves the almost divine luxury of distributing their own charities of giving, not willing! "Who can doubt that the rich banker found a sweeter happiness, if not a keener pleasure, in scattering abroad, than he had ever found in amassing his splendid fortune? He cast his bread on the waters with a liberal hand; and though he had here no return in kind, and needed none, amid the pleasant pastures of the better land, on the green banks of the river of life, it will all come back to him." The following poetical tribute appeared in "The NewYork Independent:" Whose royal heart went out to all his kind; Whose hand e'er proved the princely almoner Each throbbing pulse is stilled. Fold the white hands |