The rigor of the approaching New England winter warned me of the necessity for going South. While on the Hudson River Railroad I was accosted by a gentleman who asked me if I could read the raised letters, and learning that I could, he begged me to accept a copy of the Bible in that style of lettering; I of course did so, and have this volume still in my possession.
Going to Chicago I found Mr. Arms established in business, which gave me an additional hope for future happiness, and 'tis needless to say,
"I built myself a castle So _stately_, _grand_ and fair; I built myself a castle, A castle in the air."
Delicate lungs and irritating cough, sent me still further South, and I reluctantly left Chicago and all I held so dear.
"There is a special Providence In the fall of a sparrow."
"There is a Divinity that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them as we will."
I have never had occasion so especially to note the over-ruling majesty of a supreme power as in my next journey, the circumstances of which I am about to relate.
I went via Indianapolis, Ind., and Louisville, Ky., to Memphis, Tenn. The latter place rivals its sister cities in generous patronage, for, although the whole southern country was so thoroughly devastated, I met with success throughout its length and breadth.
I was luxuriously entertained at the Southern Hotel of Memphis and, as I had been over most of the railroad routes, I felt anxious to go to New Orleans by water, and for that purpose sought the general agent of the river line of steamers, anticipating the same liberality which had characterized the railroads in granting passes.
I was most haughtily received by this official, rudely addressed, and decidedly and irrevocably denied a pass.
Nothing daunted, I walked to the levee, where lay the steamer Platte Valley, almost ready to leave, and besought Hattie, who was ever my counselor, to pay our passage, and, in spite of repulse, enjoy the river scenery. In her judgment it seemed better not to do so, but to use our railroad passes, as usual. I cheerfully accepted her decision. The Platte Valley started on her trip with brilliant prospects for a safe and successful passage, but seven miles below Memphis she sank in the deep waters of the Mississippi. Many of her passengers, especially the female portion, were taking supper in the lower cabin, and, having no means of escape, perished. Hence I had reason to be thankful to Hattie's decision, to the agent's rude rebuff, and to that over ruling power which ofttimes, in our blindness, we fail to discern.