Newspaper Page Text
5
THE SUNNY SOUTH.
THE DOCTOR’S REWARD.
BY J. D. CLEATON.
I T WAS in 1873, during the fearful
epidemic of yellow fever in Memphis,
Tenn., and the few trains that entered
the city landed scarcely a dozen pas
sengers in a week, that there alighted
at the passenger station, a strikingly
beautiful young lady of, perhaps, twenty-five
years of age, who called a cab and desired to
be driven to the headquarters of the city board
of health.
The driver seemed to hesitate, for some
reason, and^he lady, noticing his reluctance,
threw the fare in the box, and insisted upon
his immediate compliance.
"’Taint dat, Miss, ’taint ’bout de pay; but
I ’feard you didn’t know.”
‘‘Didn’t know what,’’ the lady asked.
‘‘Dat you didn’t know de yeller fever wuz
just a-ragin’ waz all over dis town, en its
dangeous fur you ter be here now.”
“I know, but I must go on, nevertheless,
so please hurry.”
The cab was soon rolling through the
almost deserted streets, and, a few minutes
later, the physician who responded to her rap
upon the door, saw, standing at the entrance,
a lady of rare beauty, and features that be
spoke extraordinary intelligence, while her
manner clearly indicated refinement and cul
ture.
He readily conjectured that she was a
stranger in the city, which was, a moment
later, confirmed when she inquired if she was
at the board of health headquarters.
Being assured of this, she informed the
physician that, having a brother, who, when
last heard from, was in Memphis, and hear
ing of the dreadful fever then raging in the
city, she had come to, if possible, find him,
and, if a victim to the fever, help to nurse
him back to health.
‘‘My home is in Charleston, S. C.,” she
continued, ‘‘and these are my credentials. I
hope you will aid me all you can in the
search for my brother. He and I are all who
are left of the family now, and I could not
remain away from him in his danger.
The doctor read the address of his visitor,
and then stood musing for a moment.
Grace DeTreville!
Charleston, S. C. ?
Surely he had heard the name of DeTre
ville before.. u c nad, during the latter part of
:.u\]' Jeen stationed at Charleston. Could
it be that this was the same little girl (now a
beautiful woman) who came, every day, to
the hospital with delicacies for the sick ?
He remembered, too, that her companions
called her ‘‘Grace.” But he dimissed that
matter, temporarily, from his mind, and,
turning to his visitor he asked.
‘‘What is your brother’s name.”
‘‘Charles—Charles DeTreville. He is just
twenty-one.”
The doctor’s face assumed as grave expres
sion, as he said:
‘‘Your brother is now a patient in one of
the wards. He was received this morning.
He will receive the best of attention, and
have all that medical skill can accomplish.
I do not think it incumbent upon you to
risk so much unless there was greater need.
I would advise you to not expose yourself to
danger by visiting him.”
‘‘Oh, doctor, do not urge me to such a
course. I am here to nurse my brother
through his illness. I know of nothing that
could induce me to remain away from him.
I do not fear the fever. I am strong, in per
fect health, and feel quite equal to the task.”
**I would dissuade yon, if I could,” said
the doctor, ‘‘but will not refuse your request
if your mind is settled.”
An hour later Grace DeTreville had se
cured comfortable rooms, conveniently situ
ated, had exchanged her traveling apparel for
more suitable dress and stood beside her
brother’s cot.
Near at hand, and intently watching her,
stood the doctor, who soon discovered that
Grace DeTreville was wonderfully endowed
with qualities requisite in a sick room. She
seemed to know intuitively just what to do,
and, so gentle was her touch, and so soft
her voice that her presence seemed to soothe
the patient, and induce quiet rest.
Taking only such rest as was absolutely
necessary to enable her to hold up, Grace
spent the balance of the time at her brother’s
bedside. The doctor’s visits were regular,
his instructions clear, and Grace followed
them to the letter; and the results were en
couraging. The young man passed the crisis
of the fever and began to give evidence of
improvement, although progress was very
slow.
Although the sister was cheerful on ac
count of the prospects of her brothers’ re
covery, she had noted some things about the
hospital that troubled her; and, one day she
asked the physician if funds were lacking in
the conduct of the affairs of the hospital.
She had, several times, noted a troubled
expression npon his features, to which she at
tributed the cause.
‘‘It is not so much a lack of funds here,
that gives me trouble, Miss DeTreville, but
all over the city are those who are suffering
It is true, the whole country is aware of our
needs and aid has come from all quarters;
but, notwithstanding this I frequently have
to send poor people away from the hospitals
after their recovery, to homes at which I
know there are not even the ordinary com
forts of life; to say nothing of supplying
their needs in their weakened conditions. I
do all I can for them, but, unfortunately, my
purse is limited.”
‘‘Now doctor, I have a proposition. I am
rich in my own right. My brother has just
come into a large estate. You and I will con
stitute a committee of two. When these des
titute cases come under your observation,
relieve their necessities; and, as you need
funds, call upon me. This plan will serve
a twofold purpose. It will enable me to
render, in a small degree, a thank offering for
the recovery of my brother. It will remove
the anxiety which, prompted by a generous
nature, weighs so heavily upon you.”
The doctor was much affected by the propo
sition of this noble girl. He had observed
her closely during their short acquaintance,
and her every act denoted a character of the
highest type of a true woman. He accepted
her offer, and had the satisfaction of sending
many to their homes with present wants pro
vided ior through the generosity of Grace
DeTreville.
The plague had spent its fury by the time
Charles DeTreville began to recover and now
the physicians were able to note a gradual
abatement.
Daily, the number of victims diminished
and the end was approaching.
Charles DeTreville was rapidly regaining
his strength and Grace was counting the
hours that might elapse before she could be
gin the journey to Charleston with her
brother, when the intelligence was conveyed
to her that Dr. Hilliard had been attacked by
the plague.
A deep gloom was cast over the whole city
by this announcement; and to the board, it
was a severe blow. It was upon him, the
board had relied in darkest hours. He was
always at his post, and fought the grim mon
ster over every inch of ground. His powerful
constitution and magnificent physique seemed
to stand, a bulwark, against the onslaught of
the malady. It was a sad announcement to
Grace DeTreville.
She had watched him, day after day in his
unselfish labor to save others. She had not
ed the deep solicitude manifested for her
brother. She had become convinced of
his great worth, as well as his splendid
skill as a physician. Now, she would help
him in his fight for life.
She determined that there should be no
lack of nursing. If medical skill could save
him, he should not die.
Charles DeTreville heard his sister’s re
solve with satisfaction. Dr. Hilliard had
brought him through, and back to life, and
he would second his sister’s efforts.
The battle raged hotly, over the head of
the patient, and, at times, it seemed, to doc
tors and nurse, that they must lose. But, fin
ally, there came a change that gave hope;
then, a decided gain, and the fight was won.
The first face that Dr. Hilliard looked
upon, when conscious of his surroundings,
was Grace DeTreville’s.
‘‘What! You here, Miss DeTreville?” he
asked. ‘‘Yet why should I ask? There
seemed to be a consciousness within, during
all my illness, of your presence. I felt the
touch of a hand I knew was yours. And
when you smoothed my pillow, or bathed my
burning brow, there was the same conscious
ness of your presence.”
‘‘Doctor Hilliard, please don’t talk,” said
Grace. ‘‘You know it is not best for you,
and the physicians said you must be very
quiet. ”
But the patient was not quiet long. He
said he knew his strength, and would not
overtax it, but, there was something upon his
mind he desired to clear up.
‘‘I have been thinking,” said he, ‘‘of my
wartime experience in your city, I was then
scarcely more than a boy. ’ ’
‘‘What! were you in Charleston during
the war?” asked Grace, interrupting him.
‘‘Yes, during the latter part; and, I have
in mind a little brown-eyed girl who came,
daily, with delicacies for the sick. I believe
her companions addressed her as ‘Grace.’ I
wonder if this is the same little Grace of
other days?”
The fact had, often, during her stay in
Memphis, thrust itself upon her mind that
they had met before, and now, it was all
clear to her. She remembered the young doc
tor who had always been so kind when she,
with her little friends, visited the hospital on
their missions of mercy.
Grace assured the doctor that she was the
same, and declared that she had often felt
that they had met before. His story had made
it all clear to her mind that their former
meeting was during the dark days of war.
It was the day before the departure of
Grace DeTreville and her brother, who had
now grown quite strong again, and who
was out in the city, attending to some mat
ters of business that Grace was looking
from her window upon the street below,
that she was startled at the sudden ap
pearance of a cab, which drew up in front of
the gate, and from which Dr. Hilliard
alighted and approached the house, and, a
few moments later, a servant brought up his
card.
Grace DeTreville had been associated with'
Dr. Hilliard for weeks, meeting him daily in
the presence of suffering. She had not con
fined her labors to the bedside of her brother,
but had, when opportunity offered, done all
in her power to alleviate the sufferings of
others. During all these days, she had never
felt any embarrassment at meeting him. Why
was it that she felt a hesitancy now ?
Within a few minutes, Grace had greeted
Dr. Hilliard cordially and they were com
fortably seated, and conversing upon various
topics, but not the one uppermost in the doc
tors’ mind.
Grace had expressed her pleasure at seeing
him so much improved. It was especially
pleasant in view of the fact that she would
leave next day for Charleston.
‘‘It was, perhaps, more than I deserved,
Miss DeTreville, for you to sacrifice so much
on my account. Yet it is in keeping with the
many noble traits of character you have man
ifested during your stay in this stricken city.
Many sufferers have lived to bless you for
the sunshine and comfort you brought to
them during their illness. Others have died
with their pillows made softer by your gentle
touch. Within my heart you have awakened
other emotions, and I can not suffer you to
depart until I have told youl I love you.”
Grace DeTreville had been courted and
flattered by others; but to none, had she
ever given an encouraging word. Wealth had
not weighed much with her. She could
never bestow her affections upon other than
the highest type of manhood.
Before her stood the impersonation of such
a character, she believed. She knew, too, that
she loved him, and, when he would have
taken her hand and pressed it to his lips she
did not withhold it.
When Dr. Hilliard returned to his rooms,
a new light shown in his eyes, and a new life
opened up before him. True, Grace was to
leave the city next day, but, within a few
months he would follow her to her home and
claim her as his bride.
When the year was drawing to a close,
there was a brilliant marriage in Charleston,
and Grace DeTreville became the wife of
Dr. Carlton Hilliard; and, while Charleston
society lost one of its most accomplished and
favored set, there was a consensus of opinion
that a man worthy of the prize had taken her
into his keeping.
A Model Christian Queen.
*Rev. Leach, of Chicago, says England’s
Queen, as a Christian woman, has been an
example^ to the women of her land. The
greatness of royalty did not exclude the ex
alted simple duties of wife and mother. She
never" forgot the sweet, modest traits of char
acter that make the true wife and mother. As
a Christian woman she touches, not only the
British hearts, but the heart of every true
lover of womanhood.
It is computed that in marching, soldiers
take seventy-five steps per minute, in quick
marching, 108, and in charging, 160 steps.
LETTERS AND ART.
Oliver Wendell Holmes as a Philosopher.
Professor Keller, of Vienna, had be&.t be
ware of people who hail from the ‘‘Athens
of America.” He ignores the fact that Boston
is regarded as the Hub of the Universe by
those who live therein, and speaks of it as a
‘‘provincial town” ! The only redeeming
feature about his performance is that he does
so in a graceful tribute to one whom he re
gards as Boston’s greatest citizen. Oliver
Wendell Holmes, in Professor Keller’s opin
ion, ranks as the greatest representative of
the nineteenth century philosophy. Here is
what he says in the Nation, Berlin :
‘‘Holmes himself might object to being
called a ‘laughing philosopher;’ but he is
dead, and we need no longer respect his
weaknesses. How difficult it is to sum up
his character in two words, is shown by the
long list of men to whom he has been com
pared. Goldsmith, Sir Thomas Browne, Ad
dison, Steele, Sterne, Dr. Johnson, Smollett,
Hood, Sydney Smith, Hazlitt, Leigh Hunt,
Cobbett, Dryden, Pope, Moore, Wilson,
Horace Walpole, Gay, Rogers, Thackeray,
Montaigne, Goethe, Lamb, and even Renan
have been mentioned to describe to the
reading public, the unknown quantity of this
great American. Holmes was a laughing
philosopher not only because he was ever
ready with a joke, but also because his whole
being was as bright as sunshine. Among the
malcontents' at the end of the century
.Holmes’s writings appear like a veritable
cantica in praise of happiness. The world
has probably never seen an equally deep, pen
etrating, yet “gemuthvoll” optimist before.
In his relationship as son, friend, and hus
band, Holmes was very happy, the common
worry of life, he never knew, and, as a native
American, he did not suffer from political
and social ills. But he grew up under the in
fluence of Puritanical fear of sin, and this
alone would have been enough to kill humor
in him if he had not been able to shake off
the baneful influences of his somber sur
roundings.
“Holmes can not be compared with any
writer of any period or country. He is the
best representative of the nineteenth century,
if we are willing to reckon the last ten or fif
teen years as belonging to a new period. This
century of natural science and inventions, of
intellectual, moral, and political liberation ;
this century which explains the present out
of the lessons of the past, this age of philoso
phers without systems—this curious century
could be read in the writings of the American
Kleinstadter, even if all the rest of its litera
ture were destroyed by a new Omar.
“The manner in which Oliver Wendell
Holmes’s writings followed each other clearly
shows the rise of liberalism in the Anglo-
Saxon world. In the ‘Autocrat’ the domain
claimed by theologians and philosophers
as their very own, is touched upon in a very
cautious manner. Then, years later, in the
‘Professor,’ Holmes has advanced far enough
to give the theologian a ‘piece of his mind.’
He is never so violent as when he endeavors
to put an end to the theological conception of
sin. One perceives how difficult it is for
him to rid himself of the Calvinistic feeling
of sinfulness which oppressed him in his
youth.
‘‘In these things, of course, a German
can hardly learn anything of Holmes, for the
natural sciences were used first as names
against the citadels of theological tyrants in
Germany. To this day, the Anglo-Saxon
world has not produced an appreciable num
ber of free souls, as freedom is understood in
Germany. On the other side of the Channel
and the Atlantic philosophy is still the hand
maiden of theology, and every philosoher en
deavors, instinctively or intentionally, to find
satisfactory solutions to ancient theological
questions. Religious interests rule over the
researches in ancient history, and even ag
nostic minds ask for explanations on matters
which no longer interest us here. It is,
therefore, not to be thought remarkable that
even Holmes, the grandson and great-grand
son of Puritans, enters deeply into the sub
ject of hereditary sin ; the fact should be ap
preciated that he gives at least comparatively
little attention to the subject. After ail, he
cares less for religion and religious philoso
phy than philosohy in the most modern sense
of the word. Holmes is, in the first place, a
psychologist, and as a psychologist, he has
undoubtedly been the precursor, perhaps, in
many important points, the teacher, of the
Germans. Eleven years before Ed. v. Hart
mann, the ‘philosophy of the unknown’ is
recommended by Holmes. In Holmes’s‘Table
Talks’ the seed is sown of the teachings by
which v. Hartmann gained such popularity.
But Holmes makes little fuss over what he
has done. He does his best to prove that
Leibnitz and others have busied themselves
with the philosophy of the unknown. On
the other hand, the remarks of the American
are so strongly seasoned with human that the
reader easily fails to grasp their deep scien
tific import.
‘‘Holmes, himself, has said that he never
really hated any one. We may believe those
who survive him that he never caused suffer
ing to any one. Old age is the best test for
a philosopher. At fifty he chatted pleasantly
about old age, at sixty he still did not fear
it, at eighty he still joked about it. Oliver
Wendell Holmes died as he has lived—a
laughing philosopher.”—The Literary Di
gest.
If you want a strictly > _g_ __ __ • __ __ ___
First-class up-to-date I 11^1
Piano get the celebrated ^ ■ U ■ ■ VF f
Noted for its sweetness of tone, durability and artistic finish. Write to us fo
catalogue and prices before you purchase Sold upon liberal terms and satis
faction guaranteed.
JESSE FRENCH PIANO ANO ORGAN CO.,
MANUFACTURERS AND DEALERS.
NASHVILLE. TENN.. and BIRMINGHAM. ALA.