"There is a special Providence
In the fall of a sparrow."
"There is a Divinity that shapes our ends,
Rough-hew them as we will."
I have never had occasion so especially to note the over-ruling majesty of
a supreme power as in my next journey, the circumstances of which I am
about to relate.
I went via Indianapolis, Ind., and Louisville, Ky., to Memphis, Tenn. The
latter place rivals its sister cities in generous patronage, for, although
the whole southern country was so thoroughly devastated, I met with
success throughout its length and breadth.
I was luxuriously entertained at the Southern Hotel of Memphis and, as I
had been over most of the railroad routes, I felt anxious to go to New
Orleans by water, and for that purpose sought the general agent of the
river line of steamers, anticipating the same liberality which had
characterized the railroads in granting passes.
I was most haughtily received by this official, rudely addressed, and
decidedly and irrevocably denied a pass.
Nothing daunted, I walked to the levee, where lay the steamer Platte
Valley, almost ready to leave, and besought Hattie, who was ever my
counselor, to pay our passage, and, in spite of repulse, enjoy the river
scenery. In her judgment it seemed better not to do so, but to use our
railroad passes, as usual. I cheerfully accepted her decision. The Platte
Valley started on her trip with brilliant prospects for a safe and
successful passage, but seven miles below Memphis she sank in the deep
waters of the Mississippi. Many of her passengers, especially the female
portion, were taking supper in the lower cabin, and, having no means of
escape, perished. Hence I had reason to be thankful to Hattie's decision,
to the agent's rude rebuff, and to that over ruling power which ofttimes,
in our blindness, we fail to discern.
At Chattanooga I, of course, visited the National Cemetery, where lie the
ashes of so many fallen heroes. Ascended Lookout Mountain to the scene of
the "Battle in the Clouds," and I could almost evoke the presence of
General Joe Hooker, with his once grand proportions and noble mien, so
deservedly famed as The Hero of Lookout Mountain. I afterward ascended
another hill, which, although a pigmy in comparison with the Leviathan
Lookout, would, in the monotony of our prairie country, be ranked as a
mountain. It was upon its top were constructed the government water works,
and upon which my brother William was employed for two years, occupying as
a residence during that time a little cabin on the height, which was
plainly perceptible from the window of my hotel quarters, but which I
desired to visit in person, a source of real pleasure, perhaps enhanced by
the obstacles I had to surmount in the ascent.
At Vicksburg, Miss., I was followed by the same tidal wave of success, in
spite of the sad stringency of the times and the cruel effects of war.
While there a gentleman took us in his carriage to the earthworks
constructed by the soldiers as a fortification, taking great pains to
explain all to me, and allowed me to use the usual sense of feeling, which
so often served in lieu of sight.
At Jackson, Miss., I was a guest of the same hotel in which lived General
Beauregard, who was Superintendent of the Jackson and New Orleans Railway,
and who, aside from other acts of kindness and civility, freely tendered
me a pass over his road.
My stay at the "Crescent City" was not only marked by great business
success, but the three weeks of sight-seeing was a "continued feast."
Although it was now the middle of January, flowery spring "seemed
lingering in the lap of winter." The perfume of the violet, the scent of
the rose, the gladness of the sun-beam and the brightness of the skies
will ever linger in memory, while the geniality and goodness of its people
will, in the "dimness of distance," glimmer like a soft love-light in the
life of the blind girl.
I visited the French market, and drank a cup of the famed and fragrant
Mocha; went to its cemeteries, which, in their flowery beauty, robbed
death of its terrors; took a drive upon the shell road to Lake
Pontchartrain; walked in Jackson Square; and, indeed, visited all
localities of note in and around the city.
Should my curious readers wish to know how I could enjoy and describe all
these, the answer will be found in my companion and friend, Hattie, who,
with her wonderful adaptation and ingenuity, added to her remarkable
descriptive powers, vividly pictured all to me, and, through an unwritten,
indescribable language known only to ourselves, it became a system of
mental telegraphy and soul language.
There is in Europe a blind man, whose name I cannot recall, who is led
from Court to Court and from palace to palace by a frail young girl, and
between these there exists the same mystic yet unerring language. What
this little fairy is to him such was Hattie Hudson to me, or, to use the
language of another:
"She was my sight;
The ocean to the river of my thoughts,
Which terminated all."