The White Rose of Memphis

CHAPTER XLII

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:

“‘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,

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.”