Part 14

Here were twenty to forty counties of a size commensurate with Texan dimensions occupied by new settlers, making their first efforts in the pioneer work of developing home life in an untried country, soil and climate. They had put their all into the new home and the little stock they could afford for its use. They had toiled faithfully, planted two and three times, as long as there was anything to plant or sow, and in most instances failed to get back their seed. Many had grown discouraged and left the country. The people were not actually starving, but they were in the direst want for many of the necessities of life, and it was only a matter of days when they would have reached the condition of the reconcentrados as we later found them in Cuba. Hundreds of thousands of cattle had died for the want of food and water, and their drying carcasses and bleaching bones could be seen in every direction as the eye wandered over the parched surface of the plains.

I at once saw that in the vastness of its territory and varying interests the real need of these suffering communities was not understood by the Texas people--it had not come home to them--but that once comprehending, it would be their wish to have it known and cared for by themselves and not by others outside of the State.

Assuring these poor people that their actual condition should be made known to their own people, through the authoritative means of the Red Cross, and that they should be speedily cared for, we bade them farewell and hurried away to Dallas, where we intended to send out a statement to the people of the State.

Arriving there, we sought an interview with Colonel Belo of the Dallas _News_ and laid before him the result of our observations. He placed the columns of his paper at our disposal, and through them we enlightened the people of the true status of affairs in their own State. The response was as quick as it was gratifying, and thence onward there was no further necessity for appealing to anyone outside of the State limits. Indeed, that act in the first place was the greatest mistake, as to the average Texan, feeling a genuine pride in the State's wealth and resources, it savored of frauds and imposition, and prejudiced him against the brother who would pass him by and appeal to outsiders.

The Texas Legislature appropriated one hundred thousand dollars for food, and in the meantime rain began to fall and the entire aspect of affairs began to change for the better. But there were still many needs unprovided for--clothing, fuel, seeds for gardens and fields, live stock and many other things--and it was necessary to place these needs before the people. This the _News_ took upon itself to do; and upon my suggestion it opened a popular subscription and announced that it would receive contributions of seed or cash and would publish the same from day to day and turn them over to the constituted authorities appointed to disburse them. In order to encourage the movement I inaugurated it with the first subscription, and from that time until now I do not believe any one has heard of any need in Texas that has not been taken care of by her own people.

Congress had appropriated ten thousand dollars for seed to be given the Texas drouth sufferers; but President Cleveland promptly vetoed the act and thereby laid himself open to a great deal of unkind criticism. He was right, however, and by his resolute action saved the nation's money and the State's pride. I know that it must have been an unpleasant duty for the President to feel compelled to apply his pruning knife to that tender shoot, for he was one of the first to respond with his own personal check to the call for aid for the drouth sufferers; and the subject had always held his kindly interest.

The services of the Red Cross, beyond those given by its president and field agent in making their investigation, were not required in this emergency; and as we had performed the duty most needed, viz.: to unravel the misunderstanding and rightly inform the people of the true condition of affairs in the stricken district, we concluded that our task was ended and that we could return to our home.

On our return to Washington the following report was made to the President:

_February 19, 1889._

_To the President of the United States_:

MR. PRESIDENT--I have not been unmindful of your distinguished permission to write you concerning the condition of the people of Texas suffering from the drouth. Desiring to spare your time and labor so far as possible, I delayed my communication until the investigations should be completed, and my opinions in regard to the extent of their necessities, and the sources from which relief should properly emanate, could be satisfactorily settled in my own mind.

The prime reason for my going in person, to Texas was my entire inability to solve the mystery of why Texas was not equal to the care of its own poor and the meeting of its own calamities. I could not comprehend how a couple of seasons of drouth in one sparsely settled corner of an old State of six millions of acres, with a treasury out of debt, should throw the people of that State upon the charity of the other States, or upon the support of the general government. My investigations brought to light the following perplexed conditions:

She had contending interests between her original cattlemen who wanted the lands left open, and the farmers who came in to settle them up; the former placing every obstacle, like the cutting of fences and driving off stock, in the way of the little immigrant!

A second conflicting interest arose between these same original lords of the soil--the free ranchmen--and those, who, through railroad grants or purchase, had become actual owners of land which they desired to sell, and for this purpose, and to this end, held out unwarranted inducements, clothed in glowing descriptions, both false and dangerous, to encourage immigration, for which no preparation against the failure of crops from any cause, or toward the opening of industries of any other kind had been made--not even the taking care to leave a small sum at the discretion of the governor in case any harm might befall these newly invited citizens. The immigrants, on their part, coming, as they had been instructed to believe, into a semi-tropical climate, with exhaustless soil covered with almost perpetual verdure, made no provisions beyond the wants of the hour. One looked long and generally in vain for some trace of a cellar, or storehouse, or barn, or even the marks of some former hayrick, which might betoken some thought of provision for the future on the part of these so-called farmers. Pioneer like, they had wasted what they could not at the moment use. In this condition the drouth struck this section of the country.

Fearing the effect of these conflicting interests, the mistake was made of their coming out of the State to solicit aid, in the place of turning bravely and confidently to the people of her rich Southern sections for help among themselves.

Again, the mistake of overstatement was made, and a population of thousands represented as "starving," when in reality no one had starved nor was expected to. They were in far too great want, but not "starving." These statements served to mortify and incense the people, and to turn the strength of nearly the entire press of the State against the statements of those representing the distress, and literally to kill all help from both without and within.

Added to this, the courtesy of the railroads entering the State, and which at the first call for help had generously offered free freight on all gifts for the drouth sufferers, had most unfortunately been abused, and the occasion used by dealers to send goods in free to their customers for sale. This had the effect in ten days to shut off all free railroad transportation into the State, and thus it remains to-day, and the freight on a carload of gift oats from the grain centres of the Northwest would exceed their value when there.

These were a part of the perplexing conditions which confronted me upon my arrival in Albany, January, 1887.

The Legislature was occupied in electing a senator, and so continued during two weeks, paying no attention to the Relief bill before it. Meanwhile, I occupied myself in traveling by private conveyance among the people, learning their conditions from themselves. They suffered every necessity but _homelessness_, and this was the worst feature in the case. Lacking this, they would have felt justified in going away and seeking plenty in the homes of others; but how to pick up their unfed children and travel out, leaving their few cattle to the cowboys and the farm to the tax collector.

I attempted to write the real state of things to you; but of what use? I might as well have sent you a tangled skein of silk to pick out for the winding. It was clearly no case for a great call for charity from the people at large, neither for governmental aid. Texas was a thousand times equal to it herself, when once she looked it clearly in the face and set about the work. This she at length commenced by an appropriation of $100,000 for food.

As good fortune would have it, rains commenced, the wheat was apparently saved, and hope revived. There was still need for staple grains at once to plant and sow the fields. These must come from the people within the State, as they had closed all avenues from without, and it was proper they should furnish them. But it could only be accomplished by the aid of the press, which was still pointing its horns at John Brown, who persisted in declaring that "a million of dollars must come from Congress or the people of the North." There was no way but to reach the press, and turn its powers in the true direction.

The arrangement was not difficult for us to make. The columns of both the Dallas and Galveston _News_ are open for a "Seed Fund" from the State, pledged to close them only when the need is met. I left that night, feeling that the skein was unraveled, and _our_ part of the work done.

I thank you with all my heart, Mr. President, for the encouragement given me at the commencement, and the privilege of writing you. I have done this little bit of work faithfully, and hope it may meet your approval. I am home, with scarcely strength to leave my bed, but I trust we have heard the _last of "Texas drouth_."

I have the honor to be, Most respectfully, CLARA BARTON.

THE MOUNT VERNON CYCLONE.

ILLINOIS.

Sunday, February 19, 1888, will ever be a memorable day in the annals of the little town of Mount Vernon, Ill.--a day of supreme horrors, destruction and death. There had been thunder and lightning during the afternoon, followed by rain and hail, which had given away to an ominous stillness. The sky was covered with a wierd light, and the air was strangely oppressive. The clouds rapidly changed color, rolling and whirling, and dropping nearer to the earth, until suddenly they assumed the dreaded shape of a huge funnel or inverted cone, which came whirling along with an awful roar, and within three minutes after the fury of the storm had struck the town, thirty people had been killed and scores of others injured, and an immense amount of property destroyed.

Mount Vernon is the county seat of Jefferson county, and contained four thousand inhabitants. It was a pretty and prosperous place; its business centre surrounded a public square, whose four sides were lined with stores, and the middle ground occupied by the county court house, a fine three-story building; its broad streets were bordered with shade trees and lighted by electricity.

The cyclone cut a broad swath through the eastern half of the town, destroying everything in its path, tearing down brick houses, uprooting trees, and picking up small wooden houses and carrying them along as if they were made of cardboard, and finally dashing them to pieces against more substantial obstacles. In a very few minutes after the storm had passed, the sun shone out brightly, but on what a scene! The air was filled with cries of anguish coming from the maimed sufferers crushed under the ruins, and with the wailings for the dead and missing.

To add to the horrors already wrought, fire broke out in a dozen places. Those who were uninjured quickly came to the rescue, quenching the flames and exerting themselves to relieve the unfortunate victims, who were, in most cases, pinned down under the wreckage of their houses. All night long these brave men and women worked, and when morning came the few houses that remained standing were filled with the dead and injured.

Appeals for assistance were sent out to the people of the country, but through an improper statement of the situation, the public was misled, and not realizing the pressing needs of the stricken community, failed to take up the matter in a business-like manner, and the town was left to suffer for a little of the great abundance that was around them. In their extremity the despairing citizens appealed to the Red Cross for aid, which responded at once.

A most deplorable situation was presented: the people were homeless and helpless, neglected, and in a state of mind bordering on insanity.

After a somewhat hasty examination of the situation, the following simple message was sent to both the Associated and the United Press:

The pitiless snow is falling on the heads of three thousand people who are without homes, without food or clothing and without money.

CLARA BARTON.

With only this little word to explain the needs, our generous American people responded promptly and liberally, as they always do when they fully understand what is needed.

It was unnecessary to remain longer than two weeks with these people, who, as soon as they recovered from the first shock of their great misfortune, and when they felt that kind friends were by their side, lending them moral and substantial support, manfully commenced to bring order out of chaos, to rebuild their town and resume their usual avocations. Large quantities of relief supplies of all kinds quickly came to hand, and when we were ready to leave them, the Citizens' Committee had in its treasury a cash balance of ninety thousand dollars. And thus, with their blessings ringing in our ears, we left them.

We were scarcely home from Mount Vernon when the yellow fever of Florida broke out in the summer and autumn of 1888.

YELLOW FEVER EPIDEMIC IN FLORIDA.

During the month of August, 1888, yellow fever broke out in Jacksonville, and in September it was declared to be epidemic, the usual alarm and exodus of citizens taking place. On September eighth heroic measures to depopulate the city were taken. Every person that was still well and could leave was requested to go; very little urging was necessary. Camps were established outside of the city, where those who had not the means to go further and get better quarters were enabled to live under medical surveillance, and away from the seat of infection.

The Mayor of Jacksonville had made an appeal for doctors and nurses, which had been quickly responded to, and they were doing everything possible to attend to the rapidly increasing number of patients.

On the formation of the Red Cross Society of New Orleans in 1893, it had been carefully and wisely arranged that in case of yellow fever becoming epidemic in any place, no unacclimated persons, or those not immune, should be sent as assistants by the Red Cross. New Orleans was the home of the famous "Old Howard Association," that had won its reputation and worn its grateful renown from the horrors of Memphis to the present time. This body freely united with the Red Cross of New Orleans, and it was arranged that the southern states, through this society, should provide all Red Cross nurses for yellow fever, and that the northern portion of the country should raise the money to pay and provide them. We felt this to be a security, and an immediate provision which the country had never before known. Fearing that this might not, at its first inception, be fully understood, I called at once on Dr. Hamilton, then in charge of the Marine Hospital, explaining it to him, and offering all the nurses that could be required, even to hundreds, all experienced and organized for immediate action. Perhaps it was not strange that a provision so new and so unknown in the sad history of plagues and epidemics, should have seemed Eutopian, and as such been brushed aside as not only useless, but self-seeking and obtrusive. Like the entire organization of which it was a part, it had to wait and win its way against custom or even prejudice, by honest worth and stern necessity. It was the "old, old story." The world takes reform hard and slow.

As it was, however, we did what we could. Headquarters were established at the Riggs House in Washington. The good hearted people of the north who felt that they must go to Florida, had by some means gotten the idea that they must have a pass from the Central Committee of the Red Cross in order to go. They came to us in hundreds and were mercifully held back from a scourge for which they would have been both food and fuel. Whilst the entire people of the country in pity and horror at the reports received, were holding meetings, raising money, and pouring funds like water into the doomed city of Jacksonville, where the scourge had centered, and to which every effort was made to confine it.

Not realizing the opposition there might prove to be to our nurses, we called upon their old time leader, Colonel F.R. Southmayd, the efficient secretary of the Red Cross Society of New Orleans, instructing him to enlist a body of nurses and take them at once to the fever district. He enlisted thirty, both men and women, white and colored, took a part with him, the remainder following next day.

Colonel Southmayd, Southern born and bred, was a man of quick impulse and intense feelings; his heart was warm with the love of humanity and the sense of justice. He had been identified with the old Howard Association almost from its inception, and had worked through every epidemic of fever or other disease that had afflicted the South since the war; and he knew full well the value of the services of his chosen nurses. He strongly resented the injustice that he felt they were receiving, and naturally became involved in an unfortunate altercation with his superiors. In order to restore peace and remove an impediment to effective work, I withdrew the Colonel, requesting him to come to Washington and assist the Central Committee.

He came in obedience to the call, but burning with a sense of indignity and injustice to himself and the faithful suffering nurses he had brought--even with the lack of the good right arm which had swung his sword for the Confederate cause till it dropped from the shoulder, he was not an easy man to hold; but duty to the Red Cross, which he loved, and loyalty to its officers, whom he honored, held him quiet. He would never return to New Orleans, but at length retired to some northern city, where, after a few years he died, beloved and respected by those who knew his proud high soul, sterling worth and devotion to humanity.

His was one of the strong hearts that carried the impress of its memories and griefs to the grave, and we always felt that somewhere on that heart that had ceased to beat could have been found a spot still bruised and sore on which was written Jacksonville.

Refugees who had fled from Jacksonville, carried the plague to several smaller places in the surrounding country, where in some instances it acquired quite a foothold; but owing to their obscurity and the lack of communication with the outside world, they were left alone to fight the disease as best they could. Among these places was the little town of MacClenny, where as soon as it became known that there was a case of fever within its limits, all trains were ordered to rush through without stopping, and an armed quarantine was placed around it with orders to shoot anyone attempting to leave the town. Thus left to their fate, without doctors, nurses or food, in any quantity, their situation was pitiable. There were a number of volunteers who had made attempts to get into MacClenny, but owing to the unreasoning panic existing, they were not permitted to enter the place.

Colonel Southmayd had heard of these neglected people, and he succeeded while en route to Jacksonville in dropping off ten nurses so much needed at MacClenny. How he did this, I have told in a little brochure entitled "The MacClenny Nurses," that was issued at the close of the year 1888 as a holiday greeting, and intended as a public acknowledgment of the appreciation in which the Red Cross held those noble men and women who braved everything that they might serve their stricken brethren. Following is the story:

"THE MACCLENNY NURSES."

A HOLIDAY TRIBUTE

TO

RED CROSS WORKERS,

IN

_Warm appreciation and grateful acknowledgment of the faithful hands that toiled, and the generous hearts that gave._

BY

CLARA BARTON,

_President of the American Association of the Red Cross._

"THE MACCLENNY NURSES."

During the fourth week in November a dispatch to National Headquarters announced that the last band of Red Cross nurses, known as the MacClenny nurses, had finished their work at Enterprise, and would come into Camp Perry to wait their ten days' quarantine and go home to New Orleans for Thanksgiving.

Seventy-nine days ago that would mean that their little company of eighteen, mainly women, steaming on to Jacksonville, under guidance of their old-time trusted leader, Southmayd, of New Orleans, listened to his announcement that the town of MacClenny, thirty-eight miles from Jacksonville, Florida, and through which they would soon pass, was in a fearful state of distress; a comparatively new town, of a few thousand, largely Northern and Western people, suddenly stricken down in scores; poor, helpless, physicians all ill, and no nurses; quarantined on all sides, no food, medicine, nor comforts for sick or well.

"Nurses, shall I leave a part of you there; the train cannot stop in, nor near the town, but if I can manage to get it slowed up somewhere, will you jump?"

"We will do anything you say, Colonel; we are here in God's name and service to help His people; for Him, for you, and for the Red Cross, we will do our best and our all."

"Conductor, you had a hot box a few miles back; don't you think it should be looked to after passing MacClenny?"

"I will slow up and have it seen to, Colonel, although it may cost me my official head." And it did.