Dear Henry,

Your letter was received, and I now sit down in my shirt sleeves (as it is warm) to write in return.

For the last few weeks there has been great excitement here, and nothing has been thought of scarcely except that one subject which now received the undivided attention of the whole loyal North—war.

And well may war, so hideous and disgusting in itself receive such attention when carried on for such noble and just principles as in the present case.

Traitors have begun the conflict, let us continue and end it. Let us settle it now, once and for all.

Let us settle it, even if the whole South has to be made one common graveyard, and their cotton soaked in blood. Let us do it now while the whole North is aroused from the inactivity and apparent laziness in which it has been so long.

There are plenty of men, an abundance of money, and a military enthusiasm never before known in the annals of history, all of which combined will do the work nice and clean, and if need be will wipe out that palmetto, pelican, rattlesnake region entirely. The holy cause in which our volunteers are enlisted will urge them on to almost superhuman exertions. The South may be courageous but I doubt it, they can gas and hag [complain and bluster] first rate; they can lie and steal to perfection, but I really do believe that they cannot fight. . . .

But granting them to be brave (which I don’t believe can be proven) they have no chance to overturn this government. They haven’t the resources, the “almighty dollar,” that powerful ally, or formidable enemy—is against them. They have no money—their property has legs and will be continually disappearing.

They have prospered dealing in human flesh—let them now take the results of it.

They have had what they consider the blessings of slavery—let them now receive the curses of it.

They must be put down, conquered, and thoroughly subdued if need be. . . . The fifteen weak states of the South can stand no chance against the nineteen powerful states of the North. . . .

When I began I did not intend to give a lecture or write a composition on the “crisis,” . . . but unconsciously I got on the all-absorbing topic at the very commencement, and it was hard work to let go of it.

There hasn’t been much studying lately, and it is very hard work to think or write concerning any other subject than that on which I’ve paused so long.

So therefore excuse my “crisis” beginning.

Source: Nina Silber and Mary Beth Sievens, eds., Yankee Correspondence: Civil War Letters between New England Soldiers and the Home Front (Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia, 1996), 55–56.