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The following letter from Mrs. De
Pelchin, of this city, was written in
Memphis, and has only recently been
able to get through the blockade. Although
the incidents described are
somewhat out of date they are nevertheless
interesting:
I believe I can now write to you without
fear of offending the Board of
Health,
and think that you will be glad to hear
from the exiles on this side
the river. I
have been sick for a few days, but the
Howards took good care of
Texas, and I
expect to report for duty to-morrow morning.
The fever is not so
bad in the city, is
spreading out into the country, and many
a happy family
who thought themselves
safe in the distance have been rudely
awakened to the
knowledge of yellow fever
being in their midst, by the strange
sickness and
death of one or two of the
family. The fever in the suburbs is very
malignant,
the black vomit, and the most
of it I ever saw. By the way, I have
thought
since I have been here the ancients
must have seen the yellow fever,
and from
the black vomit taken the idea
of the river of Death, being the black river
Styx. There has been enough in Memphis
to float the boat of Charon.
Memphis in Egypt, among the sands of
the desert, is not more lonely than this
her
modern and beautiful namesake. For the
Arabs take the negroes, and the
picture is
complete. I walked the length of Vance
street, from Charleston
depot to Hernando
street, a distance of nearly a mile, and
returned; met three
white people, about
twelve colored. The beautiful houses
along this street
were empty or left to negroes.
The flowers flung their sweetness
on the desert
air, the jays screamed noisily;
and later, as I returned, the owls
hooted in
the parks. It put me in mind of
the prophecies of desolation found in the
Bible. All is lonely. The hearses go alone
without any other carriage. The dead
are
taken quietly out and placed in their narrow
homes without a word. No one
laughs
and no one cries. No one seeks for sympathy;
for all know that every
heart in
Memphis has as much grief as it can stagger
under. If this is a
scourge, truly "the
wrath of the Lord is a terrible thing."
Already the furnace of affliction has refined
many. The generous donations—
the sacrifices of life made by those who,
unacclimated, came to help when it
was
almost certain death. Those who met at
teachers' meeting on Saturday
afternoon
may remember Mr. Miller, the quick witted
mathematician and scribe.
I met him
last at the Market Street Infirmary. How
cordially he greeted me. In
a few days
his name was on the death roll. Let us
hope it is on the bright
roll of life in another
world, for "He that loseth his life
for my sake shall
find it."
The two doctors from Texas, Forbes, of
Round Rock, and Manning, of Austin,
are
dead. Dr. Tryon is the only one from
Houston I have seen, although Dr.
L.
Bryan called on me with a letter sent to
his care. I was from home. Dr. S.
O.
Young was reported sick. I went immediately
to inquire about him, for
his
mother's sake, but he was soon well. Of
nurses: Mrs. Heckle was with me
one
night; I was sick; we have a room together,
only we don't often occupy it;
she
has gone to Decatur, Alabama; she is
well thought of. Mrs. Bliss and
daughter
are at Collierville. Mr. P. Salvi and wife
were here. Mr. S. died of
heart disease.
Mrs. S. I have lost sight of, but she was
well and on duty last
week. The
Everything is conducted as well as possible
in such exciting times, for so
many
of the Howards have died and been sick,
and there are so many negroes,
each clamoring
to be heard and attended to. The
expenses of the Association
are $5000 per
day. When a druggist dies the Howards
have to set up a drug
store. The superintendent
of the cemetery died or was sick;
the Howards took
charge. As the saying
is, they run the town. Great as the distress
is now, the
want this winter will be
fearful. This is truly a "stricken city."
Sympathy
did more to make me sick than
overwork. I worked for a week for a mother
and
daughter, and then had to array them
for the grave. The two hearses came
together;
a son-in-law of the lady and I
walked over to the graveyard, and
beside
two new-made graves of the previous week
they were laid, four out of
one family, two
left. In two days more I witnessed the
funeral of two young
men, the hope of
their parents. The suppressed grief of the
aged father wrung
my very soul; three
others of the family were sick; he dared
not make a sound.
I must close. To-day
I went to church for the first time in Memphis.
McDalyell
was the minister. He is
here as minister and doctor. I was very
glad to see
him. He is kind to the sick
and desolate.