Your grandfather, my dear children, who was no extremist, but was ?moderate in all things,? thought it best to let his child enjoy everything that was innocent; that, while an act of disobedience-?an untruth, or any direct breach of ?The Commandments?-?would cause his displeasure, and was followed by a look that penetrated your mother?s soul, and was a far greater punishment than the rod of her mother, yet she might dance as much as she pleased, for ?dancing was children?s sport.? But when she would gravely ask, if, like her school-mates, she might not go to a dancing school, she would be told that her papa and mamma had promised G.o.d to bring her up for Heaven, and that they would not be doing that if they fitted her for the gay world: that she must not forget that she was a baptized child of the Church. If she looked doubtful, or was inclined to urge the matter, we would ask her if she wanted us to break our word to G.o.d-?which, like any other conscientious child, she would recoil from. When in her sixteenth year, however, while at boarding-school in Mobile, she expressed a greater desire than ever before to take lessons in dancing. They were given in the school, and confined to the pupils; not at night, but in the afternoon, when she required exercise instead of sleep; and we determined, after serious and prayerful reflection, to indulge her in this very natural wish, believing that longer opposition might be attended with a still stronger desire for the forbidden thing, which she could see no harm in, nor we, if confined to the social circle. We knew that G.o.d alone could make her a Christian?-could turn her heart from the love of the world to that of holiness-?and we did not believe that He would be less willing to do so because of our yielding to her wishes in this respect, which, our child clearly understood, was done, not from inconsistency on our part, or a vain desire to see her admired in the world; but from a conviction that, at her age, some consideration should be shown to her reasonable desires; especially as she was far from esteeming this indulgence as a license to unbounded worldliness; that the theater and the ball-room were to be conscientiously avoided, as the road that led directly away from all that was pure, holy and happy. And I am now gratified in saying that we have never had cause to regret the course we pursued in this matter -?which ceased to be overrated as soon as its depths were sounded-?our daughter finding, by experience, how empty and shallow this greatly overrated enjoyment is, compared to others, even of a worldly and social nature; how far it falls below the more refined joys of a less conspicuous but more reasonable and choice character, which the cultivated alone can appreciate.
The young lady days, no less than those of her childhood, your mother will tell you, were happy days. Restrained in that only which her parents, and her own conscience, deemed wrong, she was as free and joyous as the birds that carol in their native air. When her sprightly and impulsive nature inclined her to go beyond the bounds of propriety, she was checked. Readily indulged in every reasonable desire, and knowing that nothing worldly afforded her parents so much happiness as that of her own, she did not long mourn over occasional disappointments in personal gratification, which, if indulged in, might have reasonably reflected discredit, if not on her, at least on the religious position of her parents. She had to be reminded, now and then, that she was the child of an Elder of the Church; but never did she intentionally do violence to the feelings or views of him she so much reverenced and loved.
This reminds me of a circ.u.mstance, that I will relate: One evening, when your mother was dressing for a party, which was to be given at the house of a friend, a very serious accident occurred a few squares from us. A May-day celebration of school-girls, with their teachers, parents and friends, were suddenly startled with the sound and movement of a falling house, and, in a moment, from the giving way of the floor, they were precipitated from the second story of the house down to the first, and, after a moment?s pause, into the cellar. The alarm was soon noised abroad, and, in a very short time, the building was surrounded by persons-?some, who had relatives there, in agony to know the worst concerning them, some from curiosity, and others to render a.s.sistance to the sufferers. Your grandfather rushed to the spot, and remained there as long as there was anything for him to do, in encouraging the sufferers, and in a.s.sisting them to their homes.
No one was killed?-though I think one person died from the injuries received there, a few days after the event; but many were dreadfully bruised, and some had limbs broken. After learning who const.i.tuted the a.s.sembly, who was hurt, and how much, and finding that, although we knew two or three of the injured persons, and entertained a high respect for them, they were not among our particular friends, nor even in our visiting circle--daughter and I concluded that there could be no impropriety in her attending the party: the time of starting having been delayed for awhile, until we were fully a.s.sured of all the facts, and had recovered from the shock felt upon the first alarm.
In less than half an hour after she had gone, her father returned from the scene of the disaster, and, learning that Lizzie had gone to the party, was amazed and greatly excited, that, ?when our neighbors were dying around us,? our child, knowing the fact, should be permitted to make one of a gay and thoughtless crowd! I was taken aback, for I had not realized the distressing condition of the wounded, and undertook to explain; but feeling condemned, mortified, and chagrined, I immediately proposed to send for her, which he promptly approved of, and, in a few moments, the carriage (which had just returned) was sent back, with an explanatory note from me. Lizzie had that moment taken her place in a cotillion, when the note was handed her. She read it, made an apology to her partner, an explanation to her hostess, bidding her ?good evening,? and, in a few minutes more, she was handed into the parlor at home by her friend and escort, regretting, most of all, that she had wounded that kind and tender father, who so deeply sympathized in the sorrows and sufferings of others.
Our house was a gay one. It was thought too much so by some, and perhaps gave umbrage to the feelings of a few of them, who, judging from without, as they pa.s.sed to and fro, and heard music, and could discern from the street the moving of the heads in the brilliantly lighted parlors, thought, and said, too, ?what a shame to reflect discredit upon the cause of Christ by revelry and dancing.? ?How much better it would be to appropriate the expenditure of money in these costly preparations to the poor,? etc., etc. But, could they have seen and felt the influence of a Christian light, of which he alone who reflected it was unconscious, as he moved about in congenial mood with the young and gay, or, quietly conversed with the grave, perhaps his own dear pastor; had they but known that the calls upon the benevolence of the Christian man were as sacred, and as cheerfully granted, as those of the indulgent father, perhaps more so, they would not, I am sure, have been so censorious. And then, had they known the facts in the case, that no instrument of music, excepting the piano and guitar, and occasionally a flute, and no professor to play on them, for the purpose of keeping up a dance, had ever been in our house, these worthy people, fastidious Christians as they may have been, could not have felt so grieved.
We used wine too, but only at dinner and at suppers, with the ladies. No side-board drinking was ever done in our house. In our early married life even this was not our custom, for several reasons, two of which I will name: We were members of the old temperance society, which, however, did not forbid the moderate use of wine; but to be consistent with the spirit of our pledge, we used it only when some friend dined with us, whom we supposed was so accustomed to it, that he could not dine with comfort or pleasure without it. We did at one time introduce claret, as an every-day drink at dinner. We had been South for the first time, where the use of this mild wine is a universal practice, especially in New Orleans and Mobile. My husband and sister became quite fond of it, and so did our little Lizzie, who was then only five years old. Her father, consequently, purchased a cask for home use, had it bottled and sent to the house. But we found that our ?cold water? brothers became quite excited after drinking it, one saying-??Sister, I felt like walking over the tops of houses, yesterday, after dinner.? Another complained of the wine flying up into his face, making it so red, and all three appearing a little more merry than usual. Their good brother-in-law, never having known what a selfish feeling was, thought this may be the first step towards giving these boys a taste for drink, and determined at once to forego personal gratification in the use of a beverage which he really enjoyed, and felt all the better for. Next day, by order, the wine was not brought, as usual, to the table. No remark was made about it, until one of ?the boys? asked the servant to hand it. My husband then in his ordinary modest cheerful way, explained the reason why the wine was not there.
From which time we relapsed into our previous habit of offering a gla.s.s of sherry or madeira, only when politeness suggested it. But by the time our daughter was grown up, these brother-sons of his were men, with their habits formed, and capable of judging for themselves, and he no longer felt it inc.u.mbent upon him to be over strict.
?Let every one be fully persuaded in his own mind.? ?To his own Master he standeth or falleth.? The religion of Jesus Christ is designed for all nations and people, whatever may be their peculiar views, tastes, or vices, and while it cannot exist in a corrupt heart --and when that has been changed, savingly touched by the Holy Spirit, the true light will shine out of it-?yet we should all be careful not to measure other Christians in our measure, which, while it may be the best one for us, may not be exactly adapted to them. ?By their fruits you shall know them,? which the Apostle defines thus: ?The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, long suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance. Against such there is no law.?
Pleasant and merry times your dear mother had at home, with her young friends, and long to be remembered. But more cherished still to her are the recollections of our religious hours. The same sweet hymns of praise that she loved to sing, while away at school, that would bring tears trickling down her sunny face, and with them that relief which her home-sick heart required, ascended in former times at our morning and evening orison. A few friends dropping in to tea were no excuse to evade the worship of our G.o.d. Regularly the Bible and hymn books were placed, before retiring from table, in front of your grandfather, and without an apology, excepting occasionally he might say, ?it is our habit,? as he turned the leaves of the Blessed Book.
There were a few restrictions with regard to how often your mother, when a young lady, should accept invitations to spend the evening out, or have invited company at home, but none was so strictly regarded as the one concerning Sat.u.r.day night: for, as in early childhood she had been taught to put away her toys and irreligious books before the dawn of the Sabbath, she now found it easy and natural, if not to prepare her mind for the sacred day, at least to engage in nothing which might physically unfit her for its enjoyments.
And the Sabbath was esteemed ?the day of all the week the best.? Often felt so by her, who, in the midst of this fascinating and beautiful world, never forgot that it was the burden of her father?s prayers that like ?Mary of old, she might choose that good part which should never be taken from her, and learn like her, to sit humbly at the feet of Jesus.? And this quiet day of rest, so still, so sweet, so unlike the bustle of the world without, is well calculated to arrest the current of worldly thought, and cause the mind to revert to the impressions of happy childhood, and often to incite a desire for joys more pure and stable than Earth can afford.
Christians of an ardent temperament, who have come out from the world without having had previous religious training, are apt to go to extremes, and in trying to keep the Sabbath holy sometimes become slaves to the day, and only breathe freely when Monday comes. This was not the case with your grandfather. The Sabbath seemed to be made for him, not he for the Sabbath. It was his day of sacred rest, in which, however, he was not afraid to laugh as heartily as on other days; nor was he so absorbed in religious duties as to make him less thoughtful of the ordinary claims of life. I have often seen him on the afternoon of that day, when the servants were all out, lay down his religious book or newspaper, and go out to the stable, lead the horses into the yard, water them at the hydrant, and then turn them loose on the gra.s.s plot; and, seemingly with the greatest delight, he would watch them as they alternately nipped the green gra.s.s, or engaged in those extraordinary fantastic exercises which horses that have been pent up in the stable, or in harness all the week, know so well how to perform.
Our back yard was separated from the front by a grape arbor, which extended entirely across, and beyond which boundary the horses were not allowed to pa.s.s. In this yard they had carte blanche in their Sabbath day recreation, with one exception; they were not to touch the grape vines. And they well understood from the wave of the book or handkerchief in the hand of their master (who generally, on these occasions, sat in one of the arches of the arbor) that they were to approach no nearer the forbidden thing. Even horses know what kindness is; and I have often been amused in looking at them, from the gallery, as they would follow ?grandpa? about the yard evincing evident satisfaction in the many caresses he bestowed upon them. And had he lived, my precious little children, you would soon have learned, in your happy experience of his playfulness, and sympathy with you, on the holy day, that he was far from being a Puritan in his views and feelings.
In the fall of 1852, again in search of health, which of all things belonging to this life (save an unblemished character) was ever the most prized by your dear grandfather, we determined to pa.s.s the whole of the approaching winter in the South. We started early in November, went to ?Bailey?s Springs,? in North Alabama, intending to proceed from thence to Charleston, then to Mobile, and take New Orleans in our way home in the spring. But after reaching ?the Springs? we concluded to give them a fair trial before proceeding further, as we understood from friends, who had tested these waters, that they often proved as beneficial in winter as in summer. Accordingly as we had learned that the accommodations were very indifferent, we made arrangements with the proprietor to rent us three nice, new log cabins, telegraphed to St. Louis for our servants, carriage and horses, and were speedily set up for ourselves. With our own kitchen and cook we needed nothing, for Bailey Springs were situated only nine miles from Florence, where my parents had lived seven years, more than twenty years previous, and our experience did not prove the old adage, ?out of sight out of mind,? or the truth of the poetical effusion, ?what is friendship but a name.? For our old friends were friends indeed, evincing the most delicate attentions, and making up to us the deficiency in our supplies, from a carpet, to keep the wind from penetrating our open cabin floors, to dog-irons, or a dutch oven, and the like useful articles, besides many rare sweetmeats from their own choice kitchens. Our main supply of provisions, however,--for these Baileys could not understand that mortal man needed more than ?hog and hominy?-?came every week from my nephew?s, who is a cotton planter, residing eighteen miles from the Springs. As sure as Friday or Sat.u.r.day came, so sure came the pack horse, laden with fresh b.u.t.ter, mutton, &c. The presiding genius of these luxuries, who safely guided the richly laden vessel into port, was a grinning, half grown cuffy, whom they called ?Bowlegs.? But my only object in telling you of this delightful, but very novel winter sojourn, made so pleasant because of the unwearied attentions, and choice society of a small circle of friends, is to give you a peep at your beloved grandfather in these new circ.u.mstances. Cut off, necessarily, a greater part of the time from society, in a wild country, without occupation or recreation, excepting such as we could originate, with many it would have been esteemed unendurable. Especially to men possessing the active and stirring habits of a city life, and to young ladies accustomed to a large circle of congenial friends. But we did not find it unendurable by any means.
Your mother often said to me while there, ?Mother, I did not know before that my father was such a delightful man, we really need no other society.?
In his gunning excursions, which, in pleasant weather, were frequent, she often accompanied her father, and, from her account of them, upon their return, you would imagine that nothing could have been more charming; but, from the appearance of both father and daughter, you would think they had been rambling over hill and dale, scrambling through briars and wading creeks, without design, for the game that they sought was rarely found, or if found, lost again, before the inexperienced huntsman could level his gun. But who cared for that when they had so much pleasure and sport notwithstanding, and always such glorious antic.i.p.ations for the morrow. Sometimes, in their eager pursuit after game, they would paddle up and down the creek, watching out on either side for ducks. On these occasions, Lizzie would hold the steering oar, while her father made vigorous use of the propelling ones; but one day his ?Lady of the Lake,? (as he called her), in her excitement, at the prospect over the bluffs, of flying ducks, rose to her feet; and, reeling, tipping, over she went, which was the finale of the ducking for that day. From the beneficial effect of the exercise in walking back to ?the cabins? no ill result ensued, and next day they were eager to resume their search.
In rainy weather and of evenings your grandfather would often read aloud, while your mother and I were engaged in kitting or sewing; or, she would take up her guitar and sing some of those pretty Scotch airs, of which he was so fond; or, the more deep-toned German songs, which were favorites of mine. And thus we pa.s.sed nearly thee months, happy months, never to be forgotten; and bidding adieu to these wilds, with improved health, and taking an affectionate leave of the kindest friends, we pursued our way farther south.
The only time that your dear mother and I were separated from her father, after her return from school until her marriage, was in the summer of 1853. In a letter received from him at that time he says, ?I hope and pray that daughter will seriously bring her mind to the consideration of this most momentous subject. Oh, that she would remember how good and kind and merciful G.o.d has always been to her, and how strong is the obligation she is under to consecrate herself, with all her energies, to G.o.d?s service. How happy would we be, could we be permitted to meet her at the table of our Lord, as an humble follower of the blessed Saviour, to feel that her peace is made with G.o.d, and that her calling and her election is sure. Nothing which this earth offers could confer so great happiness upon her parents. And will she not now try to find the Saviour, who is always found of them that seek Him earnestly and faithfully? Let us, dear wife, pray more earnestly, that our kind heavenly Father would add this, our greatest mercy and blessing, to the innumerable ones that have followed us all the days of our lives.?
Our kind heavenly Father did ?add this, our greatest mercy and blessing, to the innumerable ones that had followed us all the days of our lives,? for not long after this we were permitted to sit together, father, mother, and child, at the table of our Lord. Your beloved mother having consecrated her heart to the blessed Saviour, determined to make a public profession of her faith on the Sabbath morning of February 5th, 1854, when, in the presence of the congregation of ?Pine Street Presbyterian Church,? she went forward to the pulpit (accompanied by her precious father), and there, under the ministration of Rev. S. B. McPheeters, dedicated herself, soul and body, to the service of ?the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, the only living and true G.o.d.?
As soon as this solemn ceremony was concluded, the sweet tones of the organ, accompanied by the choir, came floating over our heads, and seemed like the music of heaven to our souls. They sang:
1. ?People of the living G.o.d, I have sought the world around, Paths of sin and sorrow trod, Peace and comfort no where found: Now to you my spirit turns, Turns a fugitive unblest; Brethren, where your altar burns, O! receive me into rest.
2. ?Lonely I no longer roam, Like the cloud, the wind, the wave; Where you dwell shall be my home, Where you die shall be my grave; Mine the G.o.d whom you adore, Your Redeemer shall be mine; Earth can fill my soul no more, Every idol I resign.
3. ?Tell me not of gain or loss, Ease, enjoyment, pomp and power; Welcome poverty and cross Shame, reproach, affliction?s hour: ?Follow me!? I know thy voice; Jesus, Lord, thy steps I see; Now I take thy yoke by choice; Light thy burden now to me.?
On the 23rd of February, 1854, we gave our dearly beloved child away, to your own dear father. And the light and joy of our house and hearts, the free and joyous hearted girl, became a wife.
Affectionately yours, GRANDMA.
Letter Fourteen
My Dear Grandchildren:
Before speaking of the changes, the marriage of your mother brought, and the life of self-denial led by her father, in consequence of it, I will relate a few incidents of his every day life. I have already said he was kind to the poor. He was systematic in his contribution for the benefit of this large cla.s.s in every city; but that did not deprive him of the pleasure of throwing a few dimes into the hands of every applicant, although he often felt that they might be used for a bad purpose and do more harm than good to the recipient. On one occasion as I entered the dining room, just before breakfast, he was having a kind and merry chat at the window, with a shabby looking son of Erin, in the yard below, who declared to his ?honor? that he ?hadn?t tasted a drop!? (upon which fact the matter of giving, or not giving, seemed to turn). He threw him a piece of money, saying, as he did so, ?look out, my friend, or that quarter will get you into the calaboose.? Next morning it so happened that your grandfather was called to that useful, but uninteresting place, to bail out a colored servant, who was p.r.o.ne, occasionally, to get into sc.r.a.pes, which subjected him to temporary imprisonment, when, whom should he find there, safely ensconced in one of the cells, but the Irishman, his ?old customer,? as he called him, in relating the anecdote, which he did with considerable point and humor, making all around the breakfast table laugh heartily. At another time, when we were spending the summer at our country place, near the city, another citizen of the ?auld country? presented himself and asked for work. ?What kind of work can you do?? inquired your grandfather. ?Work, sir! I am not over particular at all, at all.?
?Can you dig potatoes?? ?Praities! Your honor, jist thry me.? ?Well, I will hire you by the day.? ?By the day, and sure I?ve no place to put my head at night.? ?Well then, my man, I can?t hire you, for I have no place for you to sleep.? ?Sleep, is it? I?d never want a better place than with the horses-?the stable, to be sure, on a bit of straw-?there?s no better place to my mind, sir.? The poor fellow?s dest.i.tution, his worn and tattered clothes, his tangled hair, with a face young and simple, but not vicious looking, touched my husband?s heart. Poor Tommy did know how to dig potatoes, if he knew nothing else, and his new master set him to work at his small patch, with the understanding that when he got through with that, he had nothing more for him to do. But Tommy took good care not to get through with that potatoe patch, yet he was always as busy as a bee when he saw ?the master? coming that way, who would praise him for his industry and wink at his tricks. Tommy was quite a Merry Andrew, and more knave than fool, after all; and when he became a decent looking man, from the present of a bran new suit?-cap-a-pie?-and a comb into the bargain, which his thoughtful benefactor procured for him, he was decidedly the lion of the kitchen cabinet. But how to get rid of Tommy became at length a serious question. Just before returning to the city in the fall, he was sent with a note, from ?the master,? to a farmer, hard by, who gave him a trial, but finding that he was not capable of earning a living, or from some other cause, he soon dismissed him; and, Tommy, much to my dismay, found his way to our city residence. But as the developments of his character in civilized life, were not of the most encouraging nature, it was not a difficult matter for your grandfather to drive him from the premises.
But there was another poor man, of whom I never speak or think, but with feelings of kindness and respect. His remains lie in Bellefontaine, and I have no doubt but that his spirit is happy in the presence of his G.o.d. He had lived a poor, but honest life in the west of Ireland, with his wife and children, until, like thousands of his countrymen, he was driven, by hardship and poverty, to seek a better future in this ?land of the free and the home of the brave.? In extreme poverty they arrived in St. Louis. Not so many in family as when they bade adieu to their native land, having buried one or two children on the banks of the Mississippi. They had all had ?ship fever,? and a more wretched looking family I had never seen. But notwithstanding their squalid poverty and wretchedness we found them industrious, good people, and Protestants, which was an unusual circ.u.mstance among this cla.s.s of Irish. Your grandfather, who, in his charities, never seemed to forget that G.o.d caused his sun to shine upon the evil as well as the good, and who could not allow even a beast to suffer from want, took peculiar pleasure in ministering to the necessities of this virtuous family, and reaped the rare reward of a rich return in grat.i.tude and love. Poor David appeared to look up to him as to a superior being, always addressing him as ?Your honor,? in the most respectful manner. One day as I was coming out of church I was attracted by the subdued look of this good man, whose tearful eyes were fixed on Rev. Mr. McPheeters and your grandfather, as they walked together down the aisle. I had a good excuse to stop as I was in the advance of my husband, and off to one side I saw him bow most reverently, as he said, ?Your riverence?-??Your honor,? and out of the abundance of his heart, while tears streamed down his honest face, he gave utterance to his feelings of grat.i.tude to G.o.d, and to them, for the blessedness of this holy day. The pathos and eloquence of the sermon had completely overcome him. David was a farmer, and after having been in your grandfather?s employ, at first one thing and then another, for a year or two, he finally accepted an advantageous offer, to take charge of a gentleman?s farm, some eight or ten miles from the city; and we had heard nothing from the family for several months, when, one cold rainy day in autumn, a wagon was driven up to our front door, containing his remains. His poor afflicted wife came with them, and told, that David had said, ?Take me to Mr. Charless to bury me.?
He had died of congestive fever. No doubt but that it was a comfort to the poor fellow in his dying hour to feel that in this distant land of strangers, he had found a friend who would not neglect ?the widow and the fatherless in their affliction,? and his confidence was not misplaced, for, from the time of his death, his family lived near us, and never knew, as long as David?s good friend lived, what it was to want a friend indeed.
Another anecdote of the poor just occurs to my mind, and as it exhibits your grandfather in another light, I will relate it.
Immediately after dinner, on a pleasant day, my two sisters-in-law, who resided together, less than a square from us, came over to our house, with a man, who had just applied to them for a.s.sistance. They were deeply interested in behalf of this poor fellow, who was a Frenchman, and ?Frenchmen,? they said, ?were not apt to beg unless in real want.?
They were sure he was an honest man. One of my sisters was a French Creole, and both were new beginners in active effort for the benefit of the indigent, and did not know exactly the best method of relieving the unfortunate man, ?who had just arrived and had a poor sick wife and six little children on the boat at the wharf. A kind-hearted gentleman had offered them a home at his farm in Illinois, a few miles from the river, and all he wished was money sufficient to hire a horse and wagon in which to move his helpless family.? While the ladies were presenting his case to me, the Frenchman manifested great anxiety, and made the most touching appeals in the piteous expression of his face and manner. Presently, my husband, who had been indulging in his usual siesta, awoke and came down stairs. ?Now, the poor fellow can tell his own story,? and ?Mr. Charless? was pathetically appealed to, to listen to his tale of woe. Unfortunately for the man he was immediately recognized by your grandfather, who had but a short time before given him a cup of coffee, etc., from the kitchen, and had also procured work for him as a day laborer in a factory, which mode of subsistence not suiting the Frenchman?s taste, he had slipped out of, and ran off, before commencing work. It was soon evident, from the juxtaposition of the two, one as accusant, the other defendant, which was not to be mistaken, even by a person ignorant of the language in which they spoke, that all was not right. His friends, the ladies, stared, when, upon each renewed attempt to convict him, he would a.s.sure, in the most self-possessed and polite manner, ?Your are mistaken, Monsieur, I have no doubt but that the man to whom you refer, was very like me, but not myself, I a.s.sure you, sir.? Whereupon your grandfather proposed to accompany him to the boat for the purpose of seeing his family, promising to procure him a wagon and every thing necessary for their comfort and removal. But they had not gone far before the Frenchman began to sidle off, as it to turn a corner, but finding that it was no easy matter to get away from the persevering gentleman, who insisted upon being ?introduced to the Madame,? he made a clean breast of the whole thing, ?Monsieur, I have no wife and little children, but you know when a poor man want he get nothing from the ladies unless he have one sick wife, and some poor little children. Excuse me, Monsieur, I mean no disrespect to you.? No one liked a joke better than your grandfather, and being something of a tease too, he more than once slily referred to the pitiable condition of the poor Frenchman, which, although enjoyed by others, was not quite so keenly relished by the ladies, who had manifested so much interest in the welfare of the honest man, and his distressed family.
You are not old enough, my dear little children, to remember how devotedly fond ?Grandpa? was of children, and how they all loved him, notwithstanding he was always playing some trick upon them. Sometimes at dinner when any of your little cousins were with us and would show by the interest expressed in their faces, when the dessert was being brought in, how eager they were to be ?helped,? ?Grandpa? would quietly and gravely say, ??Aunty,? you needn?t give Peter (or perhaps it might be Charless) any of that, he is not fond of ?Charlotte Russe,?? (or whatever the nice thing might happen to be), when Peter, taken aback, half believing, half doubting, would present such a ludicrous picture, by the mingled expression of his countenance that no one present, not even little Peter himself, (when he found out it was all a joke), could avoid a hearty laugh. And thus with a thousand little ways which fascinated the children he was decidedly a favorite among them. He never forgot what he liked, and how he felt, when a boy, and could easily enter into the feelings of a boy and be a sympathizing friend and companion.
I know some little boys whose parents lived on Pine Street, and although this was by no means the direct road from ?the garden,? they used to watch for ?dear Mr. Charless?? return from that oft-frequented place in the cool of the evening, for he would be sure to come that way and stop a minute to fill their hats with peaches or apples, etc. One of these little boys, attracted one evening by a glorious sunset, which stretched its golden streaks and varied hues far and wide, lighting up the azure blue with unusual brilliancy and beauty, asked, ?Mamma, is n?t that like heaven?? ?Something like it, I expect, my son.?
?There?s where good Mr. Charless will go, when he dies!? said the little boy. And thus it was, even children felt the influence of such a G.o.dly life, as that of your beloved grandfather.
The marriage of your dear mother, and the necessity of her being so far separated from the home of her parents, away here in Louisiana, where there is no Protestant Church, and among strangers, whose isolated lives throw an almost impa.s.sable barrier in the way of social intercourse, made it inc.u.mbent on me to remain with her a greater part of the time. Your father gave your mother?s parents a very cordial and pressing invitation to spend their winters with them, promising that they would always pa.s.s the summer with us, and that we should never be separated from our precious only child. But the business relations of your grandfather made it impossible for him to do more than to pay a visit of five or six weeks during the winter; but with the tender feeling of the father he was willing to submit to the self-denial of separation from his wife, that she might be with the darling of their united hearts. In one of his letters he says, ?You ask me, in your last, how I am getting on, I must be honest and say, bad enough. If I were not tied hand and foot I would cut loose from these cold regions and lonely habitations, and fly away to my ?ain wifey, and my ain bairns? in the sunny south.? Again he says, when longing to see me, ?But I would not have you come too soon, as I know how changeable March and April are here, and how delightful they must be in Louisiana.? At another time he says, ?Kiss Louis, Lizzie and the babies for me, and believe me that whatever claims business or other ties, may have one me, my heart is ever with my dear ones.?
In the winter of 1855 he was elected ?President of the Bank of Missouri.? I find among my newspaper slips, an article relative to that fact which I will copy: ?We announced in our article of Friday last that the name of Joseph Charless, Esq., would probably pa.s.s through the Legislature, as the new President of the "Bank of the State of Missouri.? The Telegraph of this morning announces his election to that important post.
?It is proper for us to say to our distant readers, who Mr.
Charless is, and we shall a.s.sume to speak of his capacity for the important post confided to him, by the Legislative wisdom of the State.
?The Bank of Missouri is a State inst.i.tution; were it otherwise we question whether we would refer to the matter at all. It is also by the wisdom of our fathers const.i.tuted (vide the Const.i.tution) a monopoly, a moneyed monopoly too, and therefore, wields great power, and it is important to the people of this State to know in whose hands this great moneyed power is to be vested for the next two years, by the act of Legislature, if (perchance) the Bank is not turned into a private corporation, by act of a.s.sembly, with the concurrence of private stockholders. We do not intend to tire our readers with a ?long yarn,? and therefore proceed to say, that, Mr. Charless has lived, man and boy, in this State and in this city 45 years, being the worthy son of a most respected sire, and is now about 50 years of age.
Mr. Charless is a gentleman of fair financial ability, and has managed his own private affairs in the prosecution of a large business, with prudence, skill and judgment, and the firm, of which he is head, enjoys a high credit, both at home and abroad.
?He is a gentleman, too, of great suavity of manner, and exhibits a kind spirit in all his intercourse with men (a good quality for the post he is called to) and withal is a man of great firmness of purpose, not stubborn, of indomitable industry, perseverance and energy, and even in moneyed panics (the worst of all panics) would probably be as calm as a summer morning, while at the same time he would act, and act, too, efficiently, looking to the interest and safety of the corporation of which he is the head, and to the interests of the mercantile and trading community, at the same time.
?The private character of the new President is beyond reproach, he is a gentleman of unwavering integrity, and possesses the confidence of his fellow-citizens in an eminent degree. To use the western phrase, he is ?very popular,? but we don?t esteem this of much account.
It is an idle wind, and may blow south or north to-morrow and proves nothing.
?The new President, however, has not only a good character but a good reputation, and whether he will mar or advance the latter during his presidency, time only can determine.?
?Reputation? based upon such a characters as his, could not be marred. But, ah! it was as President of this Bank, he was brought into contact with the wretched being who has robbed the world of a benefactor, and where can I find a word in which to embody an idea of the loss of those he so dearly loved.
He served two years in the State Bank, at which time the term expired, and he determined to be no longer tied down to St. Louis, more than was necessary to attend to his own business. But in the formation of the ?Mechanics? Bank? the Board of Directors insisted upon have Mr.
Charless for their President. He refused positively, but they still insisted; and, at length, urgently requested that he would accept the presidency of this new inst.i.tution until fairly established, if for no longer time. He finally acceded to the latter proposition. But after once getting in, there was no getting out of it; for he found the gentlemen with whom he was there a.s.sociated so very congenial, and his duties not onerous but pleasant, so that he continued to serve them until the day of his death, having signed the last notes on the 1st of June.
It only remains for me to say, my dear children, that after the marriage of your mother, the summers were our gala time, for Lizzie and the boys and grandma were all at home, and happy Grandpa would in his excess of joy forget the lonely winters, which he had endeavored by constant occupation at the store, the bank, and in the Church, to make the best of. His evenings were spent in reading, and in holding communion, by letter writing, with his loved ones far away: which, excepting on Church evenings, he would occasionally vary by a visit to some friend, of whom, I need not say, he had many, who would have esteemed it a privilege, during my absence, to have admitted him into their family circle as a member, but, as he often said, in his letters, he preferred to visit friends, and make his home in the old familiar spot, where he could so readily call up to his mind the earthly idols of his heart.