This gradually absorbed me till I could hardly bear the thought of the
suffering, the poor, the oppressed, the victims of Injustice. I always
saw them in my mind's eye, and it seemed to be my duty to work for them,
and to be disgraceful of me to enjoy the good things of life while so
many were being starved and tortured. Often as I walked along the
streets at night I brooded over these ideas till I knew nothing of what
was passing around me, but only felt how all the forces of my brain drew
me towards those who suffered.

There were warm-hearted and benevolent men among my near relatives. The
man whom my mother's younger sister had married had his heart in the
right place, so much indeed that he no sooner saw or heard of distress
than his hand was in his pocket, although he had little from which to
give. My father's brother was a genuinely philanthropic man, who founded
one beneficent institution or society after the other, had an unusual
power of inducing his well-to-do fellow-townsmen to carry his schemes
through, and in the elaboration of them showed a perception and
practical sense that almost amounted to genius; this was the more
surprising since his intelligence was not otherwise remarkable for its
keenness and his reasoning methods were confused. But what I felt was
quite different. My feelings were not so easily roused as those of the
first-mentioned; I was not so good-natured or so quick to act as he.
Neither did they resemble those of my other uncle, who merely
represented compassion for those unfortunately situated, but was without
the least vestige of rebellious feeling against the conditions or the
people responsible for the misery; my uncle was always content with life
as it was, saw the hand of a loving Providence everywhere and was fully
and firmly convinced that he himself was led and helped by this same
Providence, which specially watched over the launching of his projects