The representative., 1895-01-23
NIGHTS 0Ufv#TH THE DOCTOR
STORIES TOLD ON SHIPBOARD IN
FAR AWAY WATERS BY A FRIEND
LYa cHMPANY.

FAR AWAY WATERS BY A FRIEND
LYs eSMPANY.
How Scotch Lassie Reformed-From
Albany totfit4.burg-The yellow
Fever-On ep Nfmphis-A Sister Of
Mercs-sacstaced to the Plague.
For many days s'the Steamer City Of Tope-
ka had been blowing through Alaskan wa
ters. through long sounds, past
green-frlnged coves and inlets. and by an
occas sional glacisF and volcano cone she had
carried merry cohtpany of tourists, and
we were now on The home journey.
1t was one of those delightful evenings
when the long day lasts till midnight and
when, IN the low slantng rays of the sun,
we pass by hundreds of little islands, yellow
ana green in its radiance. by schools of
great black whales sporting among the
fountains and the spray which their own
play produces and where a hundred un-
usual sights and scenes lend variety and
charm to every engaging panorama.
we had been telling stories. 1 cannot
take time or space here to rehearse them
all, but the half dozen gentlemen from the
states who engaged in that evenings enter
talnment Will remember them ALL while l
give this one TOLD in rythm by one of the
doctors VINO made up that ships interesting
company.
1t has to do with those awful days when
Memphis was scourged with the plague and
the yellow fever held carnival in the Mis-
slsslppi valley. 1t tells one of the many
lives that were given for the lives of others
in those days Of sacrifice and death, and
teaches how out Of the depth of degrada-
ton and sin the human life may rise to
heights OF purity, the serenity Of better
things. incidentally it takes one among the
buried dead of Memphis. where at that time
the great conch shells banked many graves,
a ha
Here is the doctors sorry:
TOLD ON SHIPBOARD. af
Some years ago.
On gray afternoon, chilly and wet,
\ pretty maiden to my office came,
With pulse high bounding and with % cheek ahame.
noted all the symptoms, for feared
That life and death would strive for mastery,
And her frail body be their battlefield.
And And wrote Wrote down own MarS M 1" Duncan am on on my list,
The feverish fiushes on her shapely face
Turned to Nermilion for the shame of 1t.
Twas unusual thing and not -
Ordained to NEEDLE with the worlds affairs
Nor the souls of women gone astray; r+o
Sufficient if l gave them rest for pain.
Thus had | reasoned many times before,
But not that day. ,~
Even as one may
Iconoclasm. vandalism. everything that's strong
And base besiege the beautiful and weak
And see the beautiful and helpless yield, "
Even so | saw them in the conflict there
The woman was cast down, but not destroyed;
And resolved that, if she lived or died,
This worthy missionary field,
Hers the old familiar story. told
SO many times that with its repetition,
One learns to disbelieve and careless grows;
No friends, home no health destiny,
Not much to build upon but hope; of that
She had abundant store, for through the strange
Nlcissitudes that came and went she kept
That sapphire jewel, and her beauteous face;
And whose hopes has half his battle won
And who has beauty has part of heaven.
She. hoped for health, for life, and, too
She had lingering hope for better things; ,...,
And so !. to pass one day that when
she he o" aa pac a 3ss rng
Responsibility and.tact where these We're plized
aSs Good in evsfy esr % od an max"
Time sped aionSs fhe days, the months
Men bought and ssad. contested toiled and died;
Ana Wv women men "boret onss ;s women 40 mem do ,ons
For women. if they tldIhot work and hope,
Would be like angels, pr be less than men.
One day I heard1 strange words from Pitts
Who e,g burg ySh Sls p,dseo ,o IF reform whose life
And aspirations had completely changed.
Was missing; gonei without word or sign.
Out in the greats 7unhnown from whence she
And months and years went by, but
A trace or knowledge 81 the missing girl.
And when nentihned Mary Duncan's name,
My friends said Missonary.' and would ask,
Are there few that be saved?' And then they
too.
Would say: Il told YOU So '''Tis effort
thrown away
" Twas ever thus and women from the first
Have wasted that which gold never buy.
Those who passed judgment mistaken
Years afterward. when up De Soto's stream
The yellow fever to Memphis-sweet,
Sad city. with hundred gates for death,
1t found me there. but found me unafraid;
For with that terror j had measured strength
Before and had survived. But round me there
That victor carnivalled. while the great, wide
Melted to pity Children by the score
Were orphaned in a day. The city was
In mourning. and the air dark with death.
Save when those white winged messengers Of
Sisters of Mercy Charity and Peace
Brought tender ministrations in its place
The ae' longed-for Xxi kiss Of sympathy; they threw
Their lovely arms around the children, and
From the soft pillow of their sacred breast
Went many faltering life out suddenly
Into the world Of shades-cheered to the end
BY light from loving eyes, and led by words
From peaceful lips, pure the crystal fount,
The Prophets rod unsealed near Sinai's mount.
And one of these
Was Mary Duncan.
One warm afternoon
Before the first glad frost had come to check
The fevers ravage, had climbed to see
Two women in their chamber. They had passed
The crisis and were better In that room
saw a pcture-picture of a face
knew long since, a thousand miles away.
who from Baltimore and ministered
To sick and dying till she, too, dead
They told me how she walked tho city streets
Upon the heels Of death: her feet slod with
The preparation of the gospel; how, 9.
When desolation shadowed every door.
Her sweet, bright smile would chase the gloom
away.
Her golden hair bring sunshine in the room.
Her tender touch give courage the faint,
While her fond face looked upward like a saint
One day they told me more. and then rode
Out tc the silent city of the dead; ,...s
Past business palaces deserted, dwellings closed;
Their tenants taken to their new abode
Where underneath the green, the gold, the blue
They toll not. faint not; no inhabitant
Grows weary. waiting. and none says
Il suffer- Il am lonesome-take home.''
There in that Memphian city of the dead,
Sweet in the sunlight's blessing overhead,
Sad in the silent memories that guard
The sacred treasures lying meath the sward
Where birds terrestrial sing in sentinel trees
And dull hear celestial symphonies
Twas there | found the woman s grave | sought
And on it some appreciative soul
Had placed ocean shell, whose pink lip
This tribute that loving hand had traced:
''November-Mary Duncan-1S73.''
And in the shell. manuscript which read:
Thou vast another Mary but the Christ
Who walked the weary way to Bethany
To call the dead to life1 cal Ied