Three years after the “White Rose of Memphis” had accomplished her
memorable pleasure trip, two elegantly dressed ladies were leisurely
strolling along the graveled walks in Court Square, Memphis, Tennessee,
engaged in an earnest conversation; while two mulatto girls were pushing
a couple of silver-mounted baby carriages along just behind the two
ladies. Each one of the handsome vehicles contained a very small
specimen of sleeping humanity, richly attired in expensive and stylish
clothes.
One of the children, a bright, blue-eyed boy, about two years old, with
bright, brown curly hair, woke up, and when he saw a large number of
pretty pet squirrels hopping about near his carriage, he became greatly
excited. Hurriedly clambering out, he hastened to where the little girl
lay soundly sleeping, and tried to wake her.
“Dit up, Ottie,” said he, as he began to tug at her gown; “see petty
pet.”
The little girl did not respond, for she was sleeping very soundly; but
he was determined to make her get up. When he found that he could not
accomplish his object by gentle means, he resorted to those of a more
vigorous nature. Seizing her left ear between his finger and thumb, he
gave it a violent twist that caused the little sleeper to start up with
a loud scream.
“You, Harry!” exclaimed one of the ladies, as she hurried toward the
carriage; “what on earth have you been doing to Lottie?”
She then lifted the little girl out of the vehicle and placed her on the
ground.
The little boy made no answer, but went dashing after one of the
squirrels, and the little girl soon joined in the chase, while their
joyful shouts rang out on the air.
“Ah, ha! here we come,” exclaimed Doctor Dodson, as he came rapidly
across the park, and seizing the little boy he tossed him up and down a
dozen times. “Ah, ha! Lottie, this boy is the very image of his mother,
don’t you see? yes, that is Viola’s nose to a T.”
“Where did you leave Harry and Eddie, Doctor?” said Mrs. Viola
Wallingford.
“Ah, ha! yes; they went by the post office and made me wait for them
here--yonder they come now. Ah, ha! Eddie, old boy, it took you a long
time to go to the post office.”
“We were detained at Mr. Rockland’s office,” replied Demar.
“Yes,” said Harry, “that is true, Doctor, and here is a packet of
letters for you; and here, Lottie, is one for you.”
“O! Viola, this is from Scottie; I know her hand.”
“Read it,” said Viola; “I am anxious to hear what she has to say.”
Lottie tore off the envelope hurriedly, and read as follows:
“‘JACKSON, MISS., May 4th.
“‘DEAR LOTTIE--I received your dear letter yesterday, and hasten to
reply. I am too happy to write a long letter. Papa has at last
become reconciled with Ralleigh, and has given his consent to our
marriage, which is to be solemnized next Thursday. Ralleigh is
such a dear, good old fellow, and I do believe he loves me with all
his heart. My dear, good old papa did not like Ralleigh at first,
but he has gotten over his prejudice, and they are now the best of
friends. Ralleigh has quit politics, and is doing well at the law;
and, oh! Lottie, how I do love him. I know we shall be very happy,
for I have got my temper completely subdued, and I mean to make him
a good, devoted wife. Ralleigh told me that your daughter was the
prettiest little darling in the world. I am glad you named it
Lottie, because you know how I adore that sweet name. Ralleigh says
that Viola’s boy is the very image of his mother; he also tells me
that Viola and Harry were the happiest couple he had ever seen,
except you and Eddie. Well, I am delighted to hear it. If ever
people deserved to be happy you and Viola do; because you have
suffered more than your share. I think your husband is one of the
noblest specimens of humanity I ever saw. This is saying a great
deal, but I mean it, and Ralleigh agrees with me.
“‘I must tell you what a pretty joke was put upon me by the Rev. C.
K. Marshall, a celebrated minister of Vicksburg. He had been
holding a series of meetings here, and was a frequent visitor at
our house. He is an eloquent orator, and much admired and beloved
by all who know him. My darling old papa is a member of his church,
and would swim a river any time to hear him preach. When Mr.
Marshall was about to start to his home in Vicksburg, he invited me
to accompany him. “If you will go with me,” he said, “I will insure
you to hear one of the most eloquent sermons that you ever listened
to, from a mere boy, who has lately been licensed to preach.” Of
course I went, as my curiosity was aroused; and Mr. Marshall took
me to church the same night we arrived at Vicksburg. Now, I had
neglected to ask the name of the boy preacher, so intent was I
engaged in drawing his picture in my mind. The church was a very
large one, and when Mr. Marshall led me in, the house was crowded,
but he succeeded in securing me a seat in one corner, some distance
from the pulpit. The music was splendid; the choir sang with deep
feeling. Then a pause, and I riveted my eyes on the pulpit,
intently watching for the appearance of this wonderful boy. After
gazing until I was tired and impatient, I picked up a hymn book,
and began to turn the leaves over, when the sweet, solemn tones of
a familiar voice fell on my ears. Looking up at the pulpit, there I
saw Harry Wallingford reading his text. If a whizzing cannon-ball
had come crashing through the house I would have been less
startled. I had never heard an intimation that Mr. Wallingford was
a preacher. I remembered him as a proud, passionate man of
ungovernable temper and rather wickedly inclined. I was shedding
tears like rain, and it cost me a great struggle to keep from
shouting aloud. Now, I mean exactly what I say when I assert that
it was the most charming, eloquent sermon that I ever heard. His
voice fell on my ears like sweet music, a feeling of delicious joy
stole over me, and I was overcome with happy emotions. He closed
his sermon with an invitation to sinners to come forward and seek
salvation, and I was one among many who accepted the invitation,
and oh! my darling friend, I do believe that God, in His great
mercy, has pardoned my sins. Mr. Wallingford delivered five sermons
here, and the result was one hundred new members to the church.
“‘Mr. Marshall thinks the world and all of Mr. Wallingford. He says
that Viola is entitled to the credit of making a preacher of her
husband, for she made him promise to serve God before she married
him. Well, how could anybody fail to go to Heaven with such an
angel to guide as Viola? Do you know that I think she is the best
woman on the earth, except one? And you know who that is, of
course. If you do not, just look into a mirror, and you will see
the one I allude to.
“I have given my hand and heart to a (so-called) rebel, and I mean
to show him that a Yankee heart can and will love him; and I wish
all the people of the North and South loved each other as well as I
love Ralleigh; what a great and glorious nation would ours be! Now
good-by, Lottie dear, until we meet, which will be immediately
after my marriage. To visit you will be bridal tour enough for me.
Yours lovingly,
“‘KATE DARLINGTON.’”
Doctor Dodson died in 1879. He was one of the heroic victims who
sacrificed his life while battling in the ranks of the noble Howards,
during the yellow fever epidemic.
Mrs. Dodson expired thirty minutes before death won the victory over her
husband. She died in a room adjoining the one in which the doctor lay,
and they endeavored to conceal her death from him. His mind was as clear
as a cloudless sky, and when death began to lay his cold, icy finger on
his body, he took hold of Lottie’s hand with his right, and Viola’s with
his left.
“Ah, ha! my darlings, God says I must leave you for a while--yes, I go
on before you, and I shall meet you all again, ah, ha! don’t you see?
Eddie, my boy, good-by; you are sure to come to Heaven--Lottie would
fetch you, anyway--Viola, she has put Harry on the right road. You are
all safe, ah, ha!--yes, you are all safe now.”
Then he became quiet for a few moments, and they thought he was dead,
but he began to mutter strange words.
“Ah, ha! here we come, Dolly; wait for me a moment--we will go to Heaven
together, don’t you see, ah, ha! Dollary, I am coming. There she is,
Lottie, don’t you see her; she is beckoning for me to come. Yes,
Dollary, I am coming--ah, ha! Dolly, here we come--here we come!”
Then the noble soul stepped out and went with Dolly to Heaven.
The day that Dodson and his wife died, was to have been their golden
wedding; but God had prepared for them a wedding feast of a different
sort. They were buried in one grave, over which fragrant flowers bloom
every spring, where friendly tears bedew the soil.
If any one should be disposed to think that this world is full of
cold-hearted, selfish people, let him go and investigate the inward
history of the great epidemics of 1878 and 1879, and he will soon see
his great error. Look at the long list of those heroic physicians who
fell in the fore-front of the battle, fighting to protect suffering
humanity. Remember the large number of Protestant clergymen and Catholic
priests who walked day after day, in the very jaws of death, comforting
the sick; wrestling with the dreadful foe; and yielding up their lives,
that others might live. Historians have written, and poets sung, about
Leonidas, and his heroic band; but if I were a poet, I would find a band
of heroes at Memphis, whose brave deeds should be the theme of my song.
It is a slander to say that the world is full of selfish men; and any
one who will investigate the history of those awful times, will admit
it.
Harry Wallingford purchased a handsome residence, situated in the midst
of a beautiful grove of native poplars, just east of Mr. Rockland’s, and
not more than two hundred yards from it. Viola had her flower garden
laid off, so as to adjoin Lottie’s, and they were only separated by a
clean gravel walk. Those two devoted friends would often seat themselves
on a rustic bench in the garden, spending long hours watching the two
little children as they frolicked like young lambs on the green turf of
the lawn.
“Viola,” said Lottie, “I think your boy has a disposition very much like
brother Harry’s used to be.”
“Well, you ought to pity his mother,” replied Viola, “for that boy is
never satisfied unless he is doing something where there is danger of
being hurt.”
“By the by, Viola, yonder comes Harry and Edward; I wonder what brought
them home so early?”
“Ah! Lottie,” replied Viola, “they wanted to be with us; don’t you think
we have got the best husbands in the world?”
“Indeed, I do; and we ought never to forget our obligations to God for
His goodness to us.”
“I shall never do that as long as life lasts.”
Doctor Demar lifted his pretty little daughter from the ground as she
came running to meet him, and seated her on his shoulder and began to
dance round with her, while Harry began to romp with his boy, who was
galloping about astraddle of a stick which he was lashing with a whip.
“Edward,” said Lottie, as she ran her hand under his arm, “how did you
manage to get here so soon? We did not expect you for two hours yet.”
“Because we were both in love with our pretty wives, and wanted to be
with them; and because we knew that our wives were in love with their
ugly old husbands. Now, darling, I demand toll for coming so early; give
me a kiss.”
“Take it, old Barbarian Chief, and hand Lottie to me.”
Mr. Rockland, whose hair had grown very white, was sitting on an easy
chair on the front portico, watching the happy group on the green lawn.
“I thank God,” he muttered, “because He was so good as to send Lottie
Wallingford to direct my steps toward Heaven, and to be my guardian
angel on earth.”
* * * * *
Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber:
she had been inviitng=> she had been inviting {pg 44}
and begain to whine=> and began to whine {pg 49}
to my memtal questions=> to my mental questions {pg 90}
held her against by heart=> held her against my heart {pg 145}
When she become composed=> When she became composed {pg 181}
will be table to trace=> will be able to trace {pg 217}
then she turnd square off=> then she turned square off {pg 226}
him wife or his mistress=> his wife or his mistress {pg 274}
admissioin at the back=> admission at the back {pg 356}
I was with you and brother=> I was with you and my brother {pg 377}
witholding the proof=> withholding the proof {pg 381}
be descanted at large=> he descanted at large {pg 413}
Where to you reside=> Where do you reside {pg 423}
End of Project Gutenberg's The White Rose of Memphis, by William C. Falkner