Memphis daily appeal. [volume] (Memphis, Tenn.) 1847-1886, 1872-12-29
IN mEsIORIAr.


a
LUMPKIN-A brief announcement IN the
Herald Of last week informed the friends OF
Mrs. EMMA ANDERSON LUEfPKIN OF her death.
The writer, who has known her from child
hood, feels tmpelled 70 put upon record a
tIibute % her meInOEy, which. though neces-
iariiy imperfect, shall in some sort do Justice
to the many virtues Of this noble woman.
For she was a noble woTnan-not, perhaps,
in the sense in which Jeanne dare or Flor
ence Nightingale was noble; for nature made
her Of such mould that she was best fitted to
adOTn and bless and beautify the sacred circle
Of home instead Of the broader circumference
OF people or hemisphere; but who shall
say that The dove whose soft notes charm and
tladden the quiet sylvan shades, and whose
f.entle motherhood is spent in Watchful care
Tor the tender birdlings heaYen has given her.
is less to be admired or iauded than the eagle
whose eyre IS in the ribbed rocks, and whose
proud pinions cleave the other in the glare OF
the sunlight?
Mrs. LUsPKIE was a heroine-not such as
live IN mems minds and the historic tome,
Ike her Of SaragOssa, but none the less a hero
inc, in that she had that true herOism which,
while 1t may not. impelled BY the enthusiasm
prise, yet enables its posseSsOr 10 endure, day
after day, the physical suffering which each
day finds more poignant than the preceding,
and which looks for no relief save that last
Ing rest which comes to US all. This she bore,
and, bearing, made no sign OF impatience and
uttered no word OF complaint; for she had
that certain Panacea which extracts the sting
from earthly Ill and makes even the bed Of
death
As soft as dCWny pillows are.
She vas a singularly lovely woman. have
known mel, as 7 have said, from early child
hood, and, looking back over the years which
passed, can recall no memory around which
Is purer, sweeter, gentler luster than that
which aureOles the image Of EMMA AsDER-
SON. Beautiful exceedingly, and accom-
plished in all that makes a polished woman
she was the center and the idol OF a happy
home, Of which, in all her life, she breathed
no word and did no thing to mar the perfect
peace. And when, in the roseate blush Of
budding WOmanhOOd, she went. as a benig-
nant Bona Dea, to the distant home OF the
husband to whom she had committed her
happiness, many eyes besides those beneath
the paternal roof dimmed at giving her up,
and countless blessings followed and ben1-
sOned her.
I remember TO have met her once in the
South during the war. She was wife and
mother then. Her little ones were around
her, but her husband was away at the front,
in daily peril Of his life. She was among
strangers in a strange land-and yet during
the little time I was in her society, I was
touched by the gentle, accomplishing forti-
accustomed comforts, and scrove not to dim
her little childrens happy faces with the
thoughts Of hideOus posi- bihties which came
unbidden 70 all Of Us in those darksOme DAYS.
1t could be hardly less than cruel to offer
coincidence to those on whom the crushing
blow Of her death has fallen. He who writes
this knows what it is to give up an earthly
idOl-and he knows there is no sympathy so
grateful as silence; for,
"CondOIe il you Wilt is kindly
And a well-meant waste Of breath.
But not all the preaching since Adam
Has made death other than death"