The weekly democratic statesman. [volume] (Austin, Tex.) 1871-1883, 1878-09-26
The PlsgQe.


quate conception of the terrors Of a
day and night in Memphis, we repro
duce one of the last, perhaps the very
last, of the pen pictures painted with a
true artists skill and taste by young
Landrum, late local reporter for the
Memphis A0alanche. His mother fol,
lowed him, and brother lies low, and
the father, a weary watcher at the
bedside of death, still tells of Gods
goodness, and points the way to hope
and heaven in the abodes of opulence
and novels of meanest poverty. At
midnight young Landrum wrote:
Another black leaf turned!
Another chapter in our book of mis-
cry turned. As castaways on a desert
isle each day for form and occupations
sake enter up in their "log," the mos
notonous T. )rd of the dreary day, 20
we sit down to our log book tonight.
AS the days of their lonely exile length
en- into months, and the new day
brings naught but the old hopes, the
old fears, the old longings and niser-
les; as the hand shades the eyes from
the setting sun for last, long, sweep
ing glance over the undotted waste f
waters. as the seaman In The fires light
then sits down to write the same re-
cord OF disappointment nothing
changed, only hope grown weaker; it
cannot be but heavy, weary task. So
we, prisoners here, many of us doomed
and but waiting the executioner-
turn to this daily duty with sad, sad
hearts.
Outside, the soft moonlight plays
upon the street and wall aud breaks IN
shimmering brightness DER the slate
roof above. The silence of the street
is exaggerated as the trees throw their
wierd shadows and the awnings darken
the pavement. AS the beautiful babe,
so fair, so winning that death even
could not have the heart to mar the
flower which he plucked, lies as though
-'twere but sweetlY sleeping; 80 Mem
phis, supernaturally quiet with the
softest and most beautiful light flood
ing her streets, seems but sleeping
only sleeping.
A noise; and heavy wagon laden
with collins lumbers up and goes rum
bling by. That wagon breaks the
spell. The eyes are shaded by the
hand which shuts the moonlight from
the eye and the bright fancy from the
heart. Through the mind in swift
panorama the horrid scenes of the past
day move swiftly. We shudder, and
walking to the window again gaze up
on the moonlight and its shadows.
Yes, the city still seems to be sleep
ing, but it is the sleep of DEATH
There was touching little scene on
one OF our streets yesterday. a kind
hearted lady was going to see sick
friend wheE Sue heard her name called.
Turning she saw slender girl, dressed
in mourning, advancing toward her.
AS the child came nearer the lady rec
ognized in her the daughter of neigh
Dor who had died the day before near
the city. The little girl threw her arms
about the lady and, sobbing, cried:
"You aren't afraid Of me, are you 9''
'No, my DEAR" was the soothing
reply.
Everybody else is," said the poor
child. "They won't come near me be-
cause papa died of the fever, and we
were with him, and mamma"
The little girls heart was stung by
the chilling repulsion which came to
her In SO deep sorrow.
Illustrating the gold that is turned
up with the black quartz by the pick
of disease, occurred Thursday. Miss
Phoebe Mendelsohn, young Jewish
girl, was staying in the subrubs, her
people having left the city. She came
into the city Thursday afternoon to
get her mail and while at the post
Office was taken i'll with the fever's pre-
monitory chill. She showed the utmost
dread and repugnance to going to the
hospital, Saying, however, she had no
where else to go. Mr.. z. p. Oliver,
an attache of the Office, had his sym
pathies so touched by the sad distress
Of the young girl that he immediately
rendered her his own room aud had
her taken there. Urable to get a
nurse till yesterday, Mr.. Oliver, him
self, cared for his patient through the
first long night of fever. She has
good female nurse now, and is doing
we'll