My Dear Grandchildren:
In this simple sketch of the life of an unpretending Christian
man, whose highest aim was to discharge his duties, as such, in the
position in which God had placed him, I am aware there is nothing
particularly interesting, or congenial, to the feelings or taste of the
worldling. By the worldling I mean a man, or woman, who-perhaps
without deliberately weighing things as they exist, and regardless of
the future-is content with the short-lived pleasures and advantages
of this world. But I cannot better describe the worldling than in the
language of your grandfather, taken from a letter which lies open
before me. In speaking of a certain lady who expressed to him a regret
that she had not fifty thousand dollars per annum to spend in living,
he says: She is a poor, worldly woman, whose chief end in life is to
dash!-shine, and out-shine-consequently envies those who have more
means, or appear to out-shine her. I would not swap my old woman for
as many of such as could stand between this and Mobile, and the fifty
thousand per annum in the bargain! To such among you (God forbid that
there should be such!) I do not write; for I know how the world blinds
by its dazzle, and you could see no beauty or use in living for the
glory of that Being who made and preserves you, and before whom you
must stand to be judged. Made in His image, with an immortal soul, you
might dwell forever with the Redeemer, in the mansions he has gone to
prepare. But, like the butterfly, you fritter away your earthly
existence, and, by so doing, throw away the only cup of real,
unadulterated pleasure of this present life; and, when Time, with all
its fleeting joys, has passed away forever, where, oh, where! do you
expect to dwell?
But for those who are the worthy descendants of him who lived the
life of the righteous, and who find pleasure in reading these imperfect
letters, I will recommence a review of the past, recording, as I have
done, such facts as I think will interest you, and acquaint you still
better with him. You have seen his Christianity exhibited in many
ways; and I have not kept from your view his faults and imperfections.
You have seen him as a son, and as a brother, a friend, and a husband.
As a father, you know but little of him; and now I will relate the
circumstances which led to a temporary separation from his child and
her mother, and will quote from his letters, that you may learn, from
himself, his views and desires as a father, and his manner of
intercourse with this only child of his heart.
During the winter of 1846-after we had removed from your
great-grandmammas, and were again enjoying a home of our own--my health
gave way, to an alarming extent. Although able to go about the house,
it was evident (declared so by my physicians) that I was in a decline.
When I grew no better from the concentrated wisdom of three of the
Faculty, my husband determined to try the effect of a change of air and
scene, first having consulted the doctors as to the expediency of it,
and having been assured by them that, if it did me no good, it could do
me no harm. With his accustomed dispatch he hastened to the river,
secured our passage on a boat, which was to leave in three days, and at
dinner asked me if I would not like to take a trip to Havana? The
question startled me, for there was more business done in March and
April than in any other two months of the whole year, and I could not
see the practicability-indeed, it had previously seemed almost
impossible for him to leave home at that time. But his answer to my
exclamations of surprise-Business is of no importance compared to
health, and the question, Can you be ready by day after tomorrow?
accompanied by the assurance that our state-rooms were already engaged
-put a stop to further discussion, and set my sister earnestly to work
to get me ready. Lizzie must leave school, (papa said), for she,
too, may go along to help take care of mamma-and never was a mamma
better taken care of, with two such nurses as she had.
This arrangement acted like a charm, for I began to mend before
we started, from the effect upon my mind, in being drawn off from
myself and my ailments to the necessary thought required in giving
directions for the packing of trunks, and in making arrangements
generally for leaving home. After reaching New Orleans, we were
advised that it was too late in the season to visit Havana, and we
determined to steer our course toward Pensacola; but, upon our arrival
in Mobile, our friends there suggested Pascagoula, as a better place,
and, as it was more accessible than the former, we decided upon trying
the effect of the sea-breeze there. It was early in the season to
visit a watering-place, but we were not the less welcomed by the
proprietors of a delightful hotel, (which has since been burned down),
for, as it happened, they were old acquaintances of ours. This hotel
was a commodious, and cheerful looking establishment, with its large
dancing saloon attached, and had every convenience for the amusement
and comfort of the gay crowd that assembled there in the summer months
for pastime or health. It stood on an eminence, and commanded a
beautiful view of the bay. The large yard in front, which gradually
sloped down to the beach, was planted with evergreens and shrubbery,
presenting a gay contrast, which, with the flowered vines, so prettily
trained around the pillars of the long piazza, made it rurally
picturesque, and filled the air with odors of the sweetest kind. But
nothing was so sweet to me as the unadulterated sea air, which I
delighted to drink in, every breath of which seemed to send vigor into
my wasted and weakened frame. At first, I could walk but a little way
along the beach; but soon, by leaning on the arm of my husband, I could
walk half a mile out on the pier, and, sitting down in a chair
(provided for me), would remain there, with the rest of the party, for
hours, as deeply interested in fishing as ever that famous old angler,
Sir Izaak Walton, could have been. And if he had been as successful as
we were in hooking and pulling out the great variety of fish, large and
small-with an occasional monster of the deep, which caused us to open
our eyes in amazement-I am sure he could not have ruminated to his
hearts content, as he did, and made the world so much the wiser for
his having lived and angled in it.
Pascagoula, as it was then, was by far the most fascinating place
I had ever seen. Besides its natural beauties and advantages, (its
health-giving influences being, no doubt, the greatest to the invalid),
we had a pleasant little society of cultivated people, all bent on
pleasure and sport. Sometimes we would go rowing, and then sailing.
At other times we would course up the Pascagoula river-a beautiful
little stream, all studded with the gardens of cottagers. One of these
was an Italian, who, devoted to the land of his birth, had, as it were,
transplanted the home of his heart to this romantic spot in the far-off
world. It looked decidedly foreign; but its greatest beauty (to my
taste) was the background, which was composed a grand old forest of
towering pines.
In contrast with this little river, were the island which dotted
the bay, adding beauty to the scene and affording tempting attractions
to those who are fond of pic-nics. One especially-Island Casot,
formed by the beautiful bayou of the same name-is shaded by immense
live-oak trees, and lies just south on the border of the finest oyster
bed (for flavor) in the South. We spent a whole day there, having
first amply provided ourselves with every luxury, even to comforts and
pillows to lounge on. Your grandfather admired this beautiful little
island so much that he thought seriously of purchasing it, to improve
in a cheap and simple way, to be used as an occasional resort for
health and pleasure. He and your mother were evidently as much charmed
with Pascagoula, and its surroundings, as I was. Both were the picture
of happiness. They engaged in many amusements, of which I was
incapable, and could only look on and laugh at-such as catching
crabs, and speering flounders by torchlight. They bathed and swam,
too, (the latter with a life-preserver), but they were afraid to
venture out too far, on account of sharks, which were occasionally seen
near the shore. At a certain season of the year there was frequently
heard, near the bath-houses, a strain of music, like the Aeolian harp,
which had never been satisfactorily accounted for, although many wise
heads had pondered over it. Some supposed that it proceeded from a
certain kind of small fish, which, in their perambulations through the
mighty deep, for some secret reason best know to themselves, touched at
this point at the stated season, just to whisper a few sweet notes, and
would then retire. Other said it was only an echo borne upon the
waters (when the wind was in a certain direction), from the playing of
the waves against the sandy shore of an island, three miles distant.
There is an Indian legend, which I will relate, that gives a more
interesting account of this phenomenon than either of these. A war
party of the Pascagoula tribe, headed by their chief, having been hotly
pursued by a victorious enemy, had rushed into the bay (sooner than
submit), and were drowned, while singing a melancholy dirge, which
annually returns in token of the sad event. They:
Sing of death and life undying,
In the Islands of the Blest
In the kingdom of Ponemah,
In the Land of the Hereafter.
But perhaps it is irrelevant to my subject to dwell so minutely
upon scenes and incidents so remotely associated with it. He was with
me then, and it makes me for awhile forget my loneliness.
The result of this little excursion, which proved so beneficial
to my health, was a sojourn of one whole winter and spring, and part of
another, in Mobile. We found there a boarding-school for young ladies,
of high standing, in which we determined to place our daughter; and a
very delightful boarding place for me, about three miles from the city,
in the family of an old friend and relative, who, some years previous,
had been the family physician of my father, in North Alabama. Feeling
quite at home here, among these kind friends, with the advantages
resulting from a mild climate, and the sea-breeze, my health steadily
improved, which was some consolation for the long and tedious
separation from my beloved husband. In the meanwhile our daughter was
pursuing her studies at Madame De Fellons. I often visited her at the
Academy, and she always came out to the Doctors on Friday afternoon,
and remained until Monday morning, when she would make an early start
for school. We had many pleasures and recreations in the city and
neighborhood of Mobile, the country especially presenting a very
beautiful appearance from the highly cultivated gardens, picturesque
and tasteful cottages, and elegant mansions, contrasted, as they were,
with the magnificent groves of pine and magnolia, with their rich and
fragrant undergrowth of yellow jessamine, and other sweet flowers,
which were indigenous to the soil of this lovely country. In these
pleasant groves were many springs of soft, clear water, which, flowing
together, formed little creeks, whose gentle meanderings added
freshness and increasing loveliness to the already charming scene.
Some of these creeks flowed over their shining beds of sand, and some
over the waving grass and lily. It tranquillizes me, even now, to
recall the rustic bridge, where I have often stood (it seems to me for
hours) and gazed at the gentle stream, as it murmured over the log that
lay half-imbedded in the sand, and watched the never-ceasing motion of
the graceful water lilies which arched the stream below.
But our highest enjoyment, with the exception of the visits, were
the letters of our beloved husband and father, who necessarily had to
remain, a greater part of the time, in St. Louis. I find, in looking
over your mothers package of letters from him, one dated October 15th,
1842, at which time she was not quite ten years of age. After writing
the particulars of his journey, and expressing a desire that she and
her mother were with him to enjoy the beautiful scenery of the
Mississippi, etc., he says: I hope you have been a good girl, and
that mother will be able to tell me how well you have behaved during
my absence, and what a comfort it is to have so dutiful a daughter, who
never has to be told a second time to go to her piano, or to learn her
Sabbath school lesson. I am satisfied if children knew how it gladdens
the hearts of parents, and how cheerfully they labor to educate good
children, that my little girl would give her whole energy to acquire
such a habit of obedience, and attention to her parents, as would make
her beloved by all who know her; and, more than all, would meet the
approbation of Him who has said, Suffer little children to come unto
me, and forbid them not, for of such is the Kingdom of Heaven. But I
feel assured that the unwearied attentions of the best of mothers will
not be in vain; but that the blessed God will make them serve his own
wise purpose, and, father prays, will eventually make her a bright
and shining light in this world, and place her in the world to come
among the redeemed of our Lord and Saviour JESUS CHRIST. I have been
reading to-day the Life of the Rev. Mr. Newton, who was a very wicked
man, etc., etc. Mr. Newton was, like little Samuel, devoted to the
Lord, when a child, by his mother, who died, leaving him an orphan, at
three years of age. Yet, after many trials, He saves him from his sins
-and, might we not almost say, for his mothers sake? Surely for the
Saviours sake.
I have heard nothing from home since I left, and am extremely
anxious to hear from you all. Has dear mothers health improved?
How is grandma, and Cousin Eliza, and little Joe and Ella, and
aunt Loo, and all our dear friends?" etc.
Your affectionate father, JOS. CHARLESS.
Here is the first page of another letter, dated New York, December 22,
1843."
My Dear Daughter: Having finished my business arrangements for
the day, and having a spare moment, I thought I would occupy it by
writing to my dear child. Since I left home, I have been hurried
along, from place to place, and from scene to scene, so that I have
nothing very pleasing to detail to you of my journey. Since I have
been in this great city I have also been very closely engaged with my
business, and have visited, as yet, none of its wonders. We have tonight,
at the house where I am staying, a very large company, assembled
to celebrate the landing of the Puritans in New England. They had a
most splendid table, filled with every luxury; and they have Mr.
Webster, who is to make a speech to them. Mr. Choate delivered an
address to-day, in the Tabernacle. So, you see, we have grand doings.
Well, I feel more happy up in my little room, away from the
noise and bustle, writing to my daughter, and thinking of her dear
mother and grandma, and cousin Eliza, and all that are so dear to us.
My dear, when I think how God has blessed you, and all of us, and when
I think how wicked we have been, what stubborn and disobedient children
we have all been, and how little we love that Saviour who has done so
much for us, I feel very much condemned. God would be just, if he
should at once punish us. We should be very prayerful, and pray
earnestly and continually, for a new heart and a right spirit, and that
we may all be truly converted, and fitted to serve Him with our whole
hearts.
His humility is plainly seen in this quotation, as it often was
in his prayers, when he seemed more like a little child, seeking his
Fathers face, than an elder in the Church, conscious of setting an
example to the flock.
In the first letter your mother received from her father, in the
winter of 1846-7, after we were settled in Mobile, he says: My dear
child, I hope, needs no hint to urge her in attention and kindness to a
mother whose happiness is so dependent upon her child. Your father,
immersed in the business of the world, and his feelings hardened by the
adverse and trying scenes which he is constantly called to breast, is
not so alive to, and dependent for happiness, as the mother is upon her
husband and child; and, in the absence of the former, the weightier
duties devolve on you, and I confidently feel that you will fulfil them
all cheerfully, and partake of the happiness their performance affords.
I pray that the Spirit of all Grace may impart to you all the strength
and grace you need, and that you may be guided to the Saviour, in whom
you will find fullness of joy, and a peace which passeth all
knowledge.
After writing another page, in which he gives all the news, he
says: Grandma says, tell Lizzie I do miss her so much! She says
the birds are fine and healthy, and are well taken care of. So are the
pigeons, for several of the neighboring boys have erected more
comfortable winter quarters for them, than they had in your boxes, and
they have nearly all left us and gone to the neighbors, much to the
distress of John, who cannot be reconciled to such ingratitude, not
even in pigeons. For he says, I feeds them every morning, and as soon
as they get the corn they fly away. So you will find the world, my
dear girl; when they get nothing more from us either in a pecuniary or
other point of view, they cease to care for, or to be interested in us.
We are therefore warned to seek happiness at home. And the well
cultivated, and well balanced mind will always find it there, where no
one can deprive us of it. Will you not seek that happiness? It is to
be found with the blessed Saviour. He alone can impart it; but He
promises that all who seek shall find, and that none shall be turned
away without it, if they will seek Him in the appointed way. This
letter was written on thanksgiving day. Further on, he continues: And
have we not great reason to render thanks to our heavenly Father, when
we see how great are his mercies to us, that we have such an abundant
harvest while nearly all Europe is in a starving condition? I really
think that we have, for these mercies are most undeserved and
unmerited; for we have not sought the Lord as we should have done, but
have widely departed from him, as a people, and followed the guidance
of our own wicked hearts. But let us fear and humble ourselves and
repent; and seek the pardon of our sins, and determine that let others
do as they will, as for us we will seek and serve the Lord our God!
Oh, I pray that the Blessed Spirit may incline the heart of my dear
child to consecrate her heart and soul to the service of her Saviour,
and her Redeemer.
His concern for the conversion of his child was not always seen
in his letters to her. I have just read one embracing seven pages of
large letter paper, in which he tells much of interest about every
thing and every body, in a lively jocose strain, but says not a word on
the subject of religion. Among other things he says, But I have never
told you about our dog, Nimrod. Why, he has improved wonderfully in
size, beauty, manners, &c. You will be perfectly delighted with him.
He is no longer a country dog, but is becoming a real city bred
gentlemanly dog. The fond companion of Miss Annie Blow in her rambles
around the well, cistern, and even out into the alley. And never comes
into the dining room, kitchen, or your grandmas room, without being
pressingly invited. Having upon his first arrival received divers
striking hints, his intellect has become very sharp, and his sense of
propriety very much quickened in regard to all these matters. Towards
the close of January instead of the usual reception of letters every
few days, we experienced the far greater happiness of seeing him, which
was only marred by the stern necessity of his having to leave us again.
In May he returned, bringing my sister with him, to remain until after
the examination of Madame De Fellons school. In the meanwhile we
made up our mind to pay another visit to Pascagoula, from whence I see
he wrote to our daughter as follows:
Pascagoula, May 18, 1847.
Dear Daughter: We avail ourselves of the return of Dr. F. to
send you a few lines to let you know how we are getting on in these
diggings. We arrived safely last Friday evening, and found Mrs. F. and
O. pleased to see us. The General is over on Round Island, whither
we attempted, this morning, to go, but were driven back by the head
winds. Your mother and aunt were wet by the spray but have experienced
no inconvenience from it. They are both well. We missed you very much
this morning when the fish were biting almost as fast as we could bate
our lines and throw them into the water. Your mother caught nearly two
dozen cats before breakfast. But you need not come as there are no
redfish or sheepshead, or trout, nothing to be caught but cats and
croakers, and I know you are too fastidious in your piscal taste to
delight in such sport. We would have been much pleased to have had
dear daughter with us. But hope that you have improved the time, so
that when the examination comes off we shall be delighted with the
proficiency you have made in your studies. Mother and aunt send
their love to you. Ever your devoted, FATHER.
After the examination, in June, we returned to St. Louis. The
encouragement we felt from the effect of the last winter upon my
health, induced us to try another winters sojourn in the South, with
the hope that a permanent restoration would be the result. Consequently
in December following, your grandfather took us to Mobile and settled
us for the winter. Soon after which we returned home, by way of the
eastern cities, for the purpose of purchasing his stock of goods for
the next spring.
After again taking leave of the dearest objects of his earthly
affection, he pursues his solitary way. From Charleston, Dec. 22nd,
1847, he writes:
My Dear Daughter: To redeem my promise to write alternately to
you and dear mother, I date my first to you from this City of Palms. I
wrote from Montgomery, the capital of Alabama, last, sitting in the
Senate chamber, which was beautifully adorned with curtains, and
furnished with rosewood desks and rosewood and damask velvet cushioned
chairs; everything having the air of majesty-the majesty of the
sovereign people. Since which time, I have been compelled to descend
from my lofty flights to the real democracy, as I have had rough
traveling, and the roughest kind of fare. After two and one-half days
hard traveling (night and day), I arrived her yesterday afternoon,
completely worn out, and determined to lay over one day at this place.
Having slept soundly, and removed the lamp-black and dust, I feel this
morning quite well again, and shall leave to-day for Wilmington, North
Carolina, by sea, in a fine steamer. The weather is very fine, and I
think I shall have a quick and pleasant journey."
I had the honor of traveling with Maj. Gen. Quitman and family
from Montgomery to Augusta, George, where he was invited to remain and
receive the congratulations of the citizens. The General, accustomed
to command, could not well put up with the little deference paid him by
his fellow-travelers, and was much annoyed that they were not
restrained until he and his family were provided for. He is expected
here to-day, and all the military are ordered out to receive him.
General Shields has been here for several days, feasted and honored by
this city, and the capital, Columbia, where the Legislature have voted
him a splendid sword, the use of which he has so well practiced in
Mexico."
This is really a very beautiful and pleasant city, and has much
of a business appearance. The streets are wide. It has a fine
market-house. The Citadel is an old-fashioned fort, now used as a
military school; for you must know that South Carolina is, or claims to
be, the most chivalrous State in the Union; and her great men-Mr.
Calhoun, Preston, McDuffy, and a host of others-stand high among the
great men of the nation."
I suppose you are, long before this, comfortably fixed at
school, and mother has-etc., etc.
You see, my children, from these several specimen letters, that
your grandfather allowed no opportunity to pass unimproved. That,
however, limited his time, he always found time to observe and to
write. Neglect of duty had no place in his head or heart. It
gratified him to serve his friends in any and in every way; but his
devotion to his immediate family, in every respect, was remarkable. No
display, no effort marked his intercourse with them, which made it only
the more precious, for they well knew that love and kindness prompted
his every act.
He wrote from New York-after having written from every
stopping-place on his way thither-giving a more detailed account of
his duties and pleasures which occupied every moment of his time there.
In one of these letters he says: I have been this evening to see
Powers Greek Slave, and think it the most beautiful thing I ever saw.
It is a perfect model of the human form, and as you gaze at it you
perceive new beauties every moment. The face, the neck, the arms, and
hands, in fact every limb, and every muscle, are perfect; and the
marble seems to have that softness and delicacy which we see in a young
and beautiful girl. But you must see it to realize all its beauties,
which I hope you will have an opportunity of doing next spring."
I am very well, and have nothing to trouble me but our
separation, and the thoughts of the long and wearisome months that must
elapse before I can again clasp my dear wife and child to my arms. But
I trust that it will be best for us both, and that it will be the last
time on this earth.
In another letter from New York, dated January 4th, 1848, after a
good deal of good advice to his child, and a faithful dealing with her
peculiar faults, he writes: With all the other matters, do not, my
dear daughter, forget to learn the most important of all lessons-the
end for which you were placed on this earth; for which mind and body
were given you: that you glorify God here, and enjoy Him forever in
the world to come. That you know, experimentally, Jesus Christ, now in
the morning of life, whom to know aright is eternal life; who is love,
and who has promised to love all who come unto Him by faith. I am sure
that there is nothing that would gratify your parents so much as to see
you, with all the fervor and ardor of youth, seeking and serving this,
the best of masters; devoting your best affections to Him who sticketh
closer, under every trial, than parent or friend.
I will quote another short extract from a letter dated St.
Louis, March 3d, 1848. In giving an account of a revival of religion,
naming the number of persons who were about to unite with the Second
Presbyterian church, he says: How delighted would I be, could I see
dear daughter a bright Christian, devoting all her powers and energies
to the service of the blessed Saviour! How much more important is it
to be educated to shine in Heaven than to be a star in this world of
sorrow and affliction, where there is no solid enjoyment, and where all
is transitory and evanescent. I pray that you may be led to a wise
choice in these things.
As soon as the winter months were over-becoming impatient under
such a long separation-we determined to cut short our stay in the
Sunny South. The greatly improved health of her for whose sake the
sacrifice had been made, was ever afterwards a cause of gratulation.
In April we returned to St. Louis, with joyous anticipations of
the future. The darling of our hearts was fast blooming into
womanhood. Her father had purchased the residence which my brother had
built for his own use, and which, above all others, we preferred,
(especially as it was near to that of his aged mother), and we hoped
before long to be permanently settled.
But as this letter has reached its full length, I will close it,
with the best love poor grandma has to offer from her desolate and
stricken heart.