It was at this period that the writer came to know her. And he can never forget the impression made on him by her—an impression that time and fuller knowledge of her only served to deepen. Of commanding and gracious presence, with a face of rare beauty and loveliness, and manners, whose charm can never be described, she might have been noble Brunhilda, softened and made sweet by the chastening influence of Christianity and unselfish love. No one that ever saw her could forget her. It was, indeed, the beautifying influences of a simple piety and devoted love that guided her life, which stamped their impress on that noble face. In every relation of life she was perfect. And the influence of such a life can never cease. Many besides her children rise up and call her blessed.
In closing this incomplete sketch of one whose life illustrated all that was best in life, and admits of justice in no sketch whatsoever, the writer feels that he cannot do better than to use the words of him who knew and loved her best:
Every day an anthem of love and praise swells up from all over the land to do her honor. Old boys of Pampatike schooling, new boys of the University, girls and old people, recall her delight to make them happy and to give them pleasure. It was her greatest happiness to make others happy; for she was absolutely the most unselfish and generous being on earth. Her generosity was not always of abundance, for abundance was not always hers; but a generosity out of everything that she had.
Her beautiful life has passed away, and is now only a memory, but a memory fraught and fragrant with all that is sweetest and loveliest and purest and best in noblest womanhood. Who that ever saw her can forget her noble and beautiful face, resplendent with all that was exalted and high-souled, gracious, and kindest to others—the Master’s index to the heart within!
J. L. M. CURRY’S WOMEN CONSTITUENTS
[J. L. Underwood.]
Hon. J. L. M. Curry had ever since the war with Mexico been the idol of his district in Alabama, which kept him steadily in the United States Congress and sent him to the Confederate House of Representatives. Toward the latter part of the war in the Congressional campaign Mr. Curry found an opponent in Mayor Cruickshank, of Talladega. The latter skilfully played upon the hardships and hopelessness of the war and in some of the upper mountain counties considerable opposition to Mr. Curry was developed. At a gathering of the mountaineers, largely composed of women, Mr. Curry was appealing with his usual favor to his people to continue their efforts to secure the independence of the Confederacy and not to listen to any suggestion of submission to the Northern States. About the time his eloquence reached its highest point, up rose an old woman and hurled at him what struck him like a thunderbolt:
“I think it time for you to hush all your war talk. You go yonder to Richmond and sit up there in Congress and have a good time while our poor boys are being all killed; and if you are going to do anything it’s time for you to stop this war.”
In a moment up sprang another mountain woman. “Go on, Mr. Curry,” said she. “Go on, you are right. We can never consent to give up our Southern cause. Don’t listen to what this other woman says. I have sent five sons to the army. Three of them have fallen on the battlefield. The other two are at their post in the Virginia army and they will all stand by Lee to the last. This woman here hasn’t but two sons and they had to be conscripted. One of them has deserted and it takes all of Lewis’s Cavalry to keep the other one in ranks. Go on, Mr. Curry. We are with you.” And Curry went on, more edified by this last woman’s speech, said he afterward, than any speech he ever heard in his life.