CONCLUSION.
It was late in the summer when Dr. Latimer and his bride reached their
home in North Carolina. Over the cottage porch were morning-glories to
greet the first flushes of the rising day, and roses and jasmines to
distill their fragrance on the evening air. Aunt Linda, who had been
apprised of their coming, was patiently awaiting their arrival, and
Uncle Daniel was pleased to know that "dat sweet young lady who had sich
putty manners war comin' to lib wid dem."
As soon as they arrived, Aunt Linda rushed up to Iola, folded her in her
arms, and joyfully exclaimed: "How'dy, honey! I'se so glad you's come. I
seed it in a vision dat somebody fair war comin' to help us. An' wen I
yered it war you, I larffed and jist rolled ober, and larffed and jist
gib up."
"But, Aunt Linda, I am not very fair," replied Mrs. Latimer.
"Well, chile, you's fair to me. How's all yore folks in de up kentry?"
"All well. I expect them down soon to live here."
"What, Har'yet, and Robby, an' yer ma? Oh, dat is too good. I allers
said Robby had san' in his craw, and war born for good luck. He war a
mighty nice boy. Har'yet's in clover now. Well, ebery dorg has its day,
and de cat has Sunday. I allers tole Har'yet ter keep a stiff upper lip;
dat it war a long road dat had no turn."
Dr. Latimer was much gratified by the tender care Aunt Linda bestowed
on Iola.
"I ain't goin' to let her do nuffin till she gits seasoned. She looks as
sweet as a peach. I allers wanted some nice lady to come down yere and
larn our gals some sense. I can't read myself, but I likes ter yere dem
dat can."
"Well, Aunt Linda, I am going to teach in the Sunday-school, help in the
church, hold mothers' meetings to help these boys and girls to grow up
to be good men and women. Won't you get a pair of spectacles and learn
to read?"
"Oh, yer can't git dat book froo my head, no way you fix it. I knows
nuff to git to hebben, and dat's all I wants to know." Aunt Linda was
kind and obliging, but there was one place where she drew the line, and
that was at learning to read.
Harry and Miss Delany accompanied Iola as far as her new home, and
remained several days. The evening before their departure, Harry took
Miss Delany a drive of several miles through the pine barrens.
"This thing is getting very monotonous," Harry broke out, when they had
gone some distance.
"Oh, I enjoy it!" replied Miss Delany. "These stately pines look so
grand and solemn, they remind me of a procession of hooded monks."
"What in the world are you talking about, Lucille?" asked Harry, looking
puzzled.
"About those pine-trees," replied Miss Delany, in a tone of surprise.
"Pshaw, I wasn't thinking about them. I'm thinking about Iola and
Frank."
"What about them?" asked Lucille.
"Why, when I was in P----, Dr. Latimer used to be first-rate company,
but now it is nothing but what Iola wants, and what Iola says, and what
Iola likes. I don't believe that there is a subject I could name to him,
from spinning a top to circumnavigating the globe, that he wouldn't
somehow contrive to bring Iola in. And I don't believe you could talk
ten minutes to Iola on any subject, from dressing a doll to the latest
discovery in science, that she wouldn't manage to lug in Frank."
"Oh, you absurd creature!" responded Lucille, "this is their honeymoon,
and they are deeply in love with each other. Wait till you get in love
with some one."
"I am in love now," replied Harry, with a serious air.
"With whom?" asked Lucille, archly.
"With you," answered Harry, trying to take her hand.
"Oh, Harry!" she exclaimed, playfully resisting. "Don't be so
nonsensical! Don't you think the bride looked lovely, with that dress of
spotless white and with those orange blossoms in her hair?"
"Yes, she did; that's a fact," responded Harry. "But, Lucille, I think
there is a great deal of misplaced sentiment at weddings," he added,
more seriously.
"How so?"
"Oh, here are a couple just married, and who are as happy as happy can
be; and people will crowd around them wishing much joy; but who thinks
of wishing joy to the forlorn old bachelors and restless old maids?"
"Well, Harry, if you want people to wish you much happiness, why don't
you do as the doctor has done, get yourself a wife?"
"I will," he replied, soberly, "when you say so."
"Oh, Harry, don't be so absurd."
"Indeed there isn't a bit of absurdity about what I say. I am in
earnest." There was something in the expression of Harry's face and the
tone of his voice which arrested the banter on Lucille's lips.
"I think it was Charles Lamb," replied Lucille, "who once said that
school-teachers are uncomfortable people, and, Harry, I would not like
to make you uncomfortable by marrying you."
"You will make me uncomfortable by not marrying me."
"But," replied Lucille, "your mother may not prefer me for a daughter.
You know, Harry, complexional prejudices are not confined to white
people."
"My mother," replied Harry, with an air of confidence, "is too noble to
indulge in such sentiments."
"And Iola, would she be satisfied?"
"Why, it would add to her satisfaction. She is not one who can't be
white and won't be black."
"Well, then," replied Lucille, "I will take the question of your comfort
into consideration."
The above promise was thoughtfully remembered by Lucille till a bridal
ring and happy marriage were the result.
Soon after Iola had settled in C---- she quietly took her place in the
Sunday-school as a teacher, and in the church as a helper. She was
welcomed by the young pastor, who found in her a strong and faithful
ally. Together they planned meetings for the especial benefit of mothers
and children. When the dens of vice are spreading their snares for the
feet of the tempted and inexperienced her doors are freely opened for
the instruction of the children before their feet have wandered and gone
far astray. She has no carpets too fine for the tread of their little
feet. She thinks it is better to have stains on her carpet than stains
on their souls through any neglect of hers. In lowly homes and
windowless cabins her visits are always welcome. Little children love
her. Old age turns to her for comfort, young girls for guidance, and
mothers for counsel. Her life is full of blessedness.
Doctor Latimer by his kindness and skill has won the name of the "Good
Doctor." But he is more than a successful doctor; he is a true patriot
and a good citizen. Honest, just, and discriminating, he endeavors by
precept and example to instill into the minds of others sentiments of
good citizenship. He is a leader in every reform movement for the
benefit of the community; but his patriotism is not confined to race
lines. "The world is his country, and mankind his countrymen." While he
abhors their deeds of violence, he pities the short-sighted and besotted
men who seem madly intent upon laying magazines of powder under the
cradles of unborn generations. He has great faith in the possibilities
of the negro, and believes that, enlightened and Christianized, he will
sink the old animosities of slavery into the new community of interests
arising from freedom; and that his influence upon the South will be as
the influence of the sun upon the earth. As when the sun passes from
Capricorn to Cancer, beauty, greenness, and harmony spring up in his
path, so he hopes that the future career of the negro will be a greater
influence for freedom and social advancement than it was in the days of
yore for slavery and its inferior civilization.
Harry and Lucille are at the head of a large and flourishing school.
Lucille gives her ripening experience to her chosen work, to which she
was too devoted to resign. And through the school they are lifting up
the homes of the people. Some have pitied, others blamed, Harry for
casting his lot with the colored people, but he knows that life's
highest and best advantages do not depend on the color of the skin or
texture of the hair. He has his reward in the improved condition of his
pupils and the superb manhood and noble life which he has developed in
his much needed work.
Uncle Daniel still lingers on the shores of time, a cheery, lovable old
man, loved and respected by all; a welcome guest in every home. Soon
after Iola's marriage, Robert sold out his business and moved with his
mother and sister to North Carolina. He bought a large plantation near
C----, which he divided into small homesteads, and sold to poor but
thrifty laborers, and his heart has been gladdened by their increased
prosperity and progress. He has seen the one-roomed cabins change to
comfortable cottages, in which cleanliness and order have supplanted the
prolific causes of disease and death. Kind and generous, he often
remembers Mrs. Johnson and sends her timely aid.
Marie's pale, spiritual face still bears traces of the beauty which was
her youthful dower, but its bloom has been succeeded by an air of
sweetness and dignity. Though frail in health, she is always ready to
lend a helping hand wherever and whenever she can.
Grandmother Johnson was glad to return South and spend the remnant of
her days with the remaining friends of her early life. Although feeble,
she is in full sympathy with her children for the uplifting of the race.
Marie and her mother are enjoying their aftermath of life, one by
rendering to others all the service in her power, while the other, with
her face turned toward the celestial city, is
"Only waiting till the angels
Open wide the mystic gate."
The shadows have been lifted from all their lives; and peace, like
bright dew, has descended upon their paths. Blessed themselves, their
lives are a blessing to others.
NOTE.
From threads of fact and fiction I have woven a story whose mission will
not be in vain if it awaken in the hearts of our countrymen a stronger
sense of justice and a more Christlike humanity in behalf of those whom
the fortunes of war threw, homeless, ignorant and poor, upon the
threshold of a new era. Nor will it be in vain if it inspire the
children of those upon whose brows God has poured the chrism of that new
era to determine that they will embrace every opportunity, develop every
faculty, and use every power God has given them to rise in the scale of
character and condition, and to add their quota of good citizenship to
the best welfare of the nation. There are scattered among us materials
for mournful tragedies and mirth-provoking comedies, which some hand may
yet bring into the literature of the country, glowing with the fervor of
the tropics and enriched by the luxuriance of the Orient, and thus add
to the solution of our unsolved American problem.
The race has not had very long to straighten its hands from the hoe, to
grasp the pen and wield it as a power for good, and to erect above the
ruined auction-block and slave-pen institutions of learning, but
There is light beyond the darkness,
Joy beyond the present pain;
There is hope in God's great justice
And the negro's rising brain.
Though the morning seems to linger
O'er the hill-tops far away,
Yet the shadows bear the promise
Of a brighter coming day.