Nesbitt Memorial Library Journal, Volume 9, Number 3, September, 1999 Page: 147
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The Writings of Fannie Amelia Dickson Darden
struggle. During the war her pen, guided by the
thrilling impulse of her soul, dropped words of
comfort and songs of fire that soothed the soul
and inspired the hearts of her countrymen from
the "Potomac to the Rio Grande." The 5th Regi-
ment of "Hood's Texas Brigade" sent their worn
and bloody flag home to her, after it had been
covered with glory on a hundred battle fields.
She was enshrined in thousands of stern, true
hearts, under the title of "Confederate Lady,"
and "The Soldier's Friend."
The writer of this sketch is reluctant to
leave her pleasant task without making some
mention of the sweet atmosphere of sympathy
and feeling which emanated from and surrounded
Mrs. Young in her social and private life, and of
the brilliant light which her genius shed upon those
who came in immediate contact with her. Not
only were her conversational powers incompa-
rable and her manners perfect, but she had that
silent tact and ready understanding, which
brought forth the best that was in those about
her, and made them feel, after leaving her, that
they have themselves shone in truer and sweeter
colors than their every day guise. She was en-
veloped in incense from grateful hearts day by
day; she was the "Comforter," the "Christian,"
to those who came within her orbit. In her town
and in the country surrounding no bride was
pleased with the adjustment of her orange blos-
soms, unless Mrs. Young's fingers had helped to
arrange them; no school boy satisfied with his
prize unless she had smiled upon it. Grief came
to be folded to her heart, and happiness begged
for her smile. She had drank herself, most deeply,
at the cup of sorrow; she had been scorched by
the flames of affliction; but she had risen re-
freshed and strong from the bitter draught; she
had come out brightened and purified "even as
refined gold" from the heat of the furnace.
While in Houston I visited Glenwood, in
company with the mother and sister of Mrs.
Young. This beautiful resting place for the dead
is about a mile from the city. Entering the enclo-
sure, we proceeded down a wide walk, cut
through the dense wood, and bordered with a
hedge of California privet, now in full bloom. A
deep gorge, spanned by a bridge, intersected our
walk, and looking down through the almost im-
penetrable foliage, we could see the streamlet,
with its overhanging ferns and flowers that sought
the trembling shadows, winding its silent way into
the bayou beyond.
On crossing 'the bridge, we entered the
cemetery proper, a lovely garden extending
through many acres, adorned with hedges of ar-
bor vitea, cape jessamines, pettis porum and wild
peach, all of which were kept trimmed down to
the regulation height of some two and a half or
three feet. Here and there solitary cedars and
jumpers and pines, with wide-spread branches,
like candelabras, holding aloft their tapering
candles, reared their tall forms amidst the white
marbled city of the dead. The very air was redo-
lent with the perfume of roses and jessamine.
Naught but the ecstatic song of the mocking-
bird woke the silence. I reached the grave of my
friend, now green with the grassy turf planted
over it, around which flourished a luxuriant bor-
der of ivy. At its head was a queenly rose in full
bloom, a fit emblem of her who rested there.
Though tempered with sadness, it is an
exquisite pleasure to wander in this beautiful spot,
so handsomely adorned and carefully tended, and
as I strolled along its shaded walks, where light
and shadow alternately played, or wandered
among its more newly opened paths, bright with
its profusion of flowers, I felt that this was a
meet place for the reassembling of the spirits of
those whose bodies were planted here, and that,
perchance, their presence might now be nigh to
lend their hallowed influence to the scene. Many
names, engraved in marble, recalled the early
denizens of Houston, among them the Allens,
Gray, Van Alstin, Burke, Cushing, House and
Baker. At every turn I seemed to meet with
some almost forgotten acquaintance of the past.
And as I looked upon the little spot of earth, all
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Nesbitt Memorial Library. Nesbitt Memorial Library Journal, Volume 9, Number 3, September, 1999, periodical, September 1999; Columbus, Texas. (texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth151407/m1/19/?q=nesbitt%20memorial%20library%20journal: accessed July 20, 2017), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, texashistory.unt.edu; crediting Nesbitt Memorial Library.