The Bolivar bulletin. (Bolivar, Tenn.) 1888-1946, 1897-11-19
A Hero of the Fever.
7. K. oglesby in Atlanta Journal.

T. K. Oglesby in Atlanta Journal.
A few days ago the wires flashed
the news from New Orleans that
the Rev. d. L. Purser, Late pastor
of the Valence Street Baptist
Church, in that city, had died there
of yellow fever.
There is not state in the South
where hearts were not saddened by
the tidings, for DR.. Purser was
known FROM the Potomac to the
Rio Grande, and was loved wherev-
er he was known. To the writer,
his death is a keen personal bereave-
ment, for the attachment that began
with our acquaintance was only
strengthened by time as it more and
more disclosed his noble qualities.
Two occasions during that ac-
quaintance are especially impressed
upon my memory. One was when
l met him one day going to the
Charity Hospital to see a young
man-nephew of a friend he had
know in Alabama-wLO was i'll
with typhoid fever. l turned and
went with him, and | remember
how, talking Of happiness, he said
he counted that man the happiest
and most to be envied who has the
most opportunities to do good to
others, with the disposition and the
facilities TO avail himself of them
The other occasion was when h.
had just come from the parish pris
on, where he had been visiting i
widow and her child, a young girl,
who were confined there on a de
grading charge. They were poor,
dependent on their daily labor for
their daily bread, and | never saw
DR.. Purser's fine face wear happi-
CT glow than when he was telling O.
having secured their release frola
prison and vindicated their charac
ters by proving their innocence of
the charge against them.
The fatherless and the widow will
bless his memory as they strew his
grave with flowers besprinkled with
their tears.
Those who have read "The
Heart of Midlothian" will remember
the simple and eloquent words with
which JEANNE Deans implored the
Queen to intercede in behalf of Eff
fie, in prison and condemned to die.
ooh, my lady," said the brave
Scotch lass, as she closed her appeal,
e'wheh the hour of trouble comes to
the mind or to the body, and when
the hour of death comes, that comes
to high and low, then it is not what
we have done for ourselves, but
what we have done for others that
we think on most pleasantly" If
this is true-and who can doubt it?
then serene indeed was the soul
of David Ingraham Purser in the
hour of death, for he was always
doing for others, and derived his
chiefest happiness from making
them happy by ministering to their
real needs.
No one who knew him was sur
prised at his returning to New Or
leans to be with the members of the
church of which he had for years
been pastor, and with his old Con-
federate comrade who had made
him their Chaplain General, when
he learned that the pestilence was
upon them. His record as a Con-
federate soldier left no room for
doubt as to the course he would
take in such an emergency, and he
died as truly at the post of duty, on
the field of honor, as if he had fall
en- in the suit of Confederate gray
he wore when he stood between the
homes of his native Southland and
the bullets and torches of it's inva-
ders. And who that knew him can
doubt that he was far happier in
such a death than he would have
been in life prolonged by remain
ing away from his flock and his SOL
der comrades in the hour of their
affection?
Long will he be sadly missed by
many, and only time and the
Christians hope and faith can as
suage the grief of wife and children,
though they can but take comfort
in the knowledge that he died in
The service of his fellow-men; that
Heath, which sooner OF later must |
come to all, came to him as the di-
rect result of his ministering to
hem in the time of their sorest |
.ravail, and that
Whether on the scaffold high,