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" We understand any epoch of the world but HI if we do not examine its romance ; 
there is as much truth in the poetry of Hfe as in its prose." 

P'i'^face to ihe Lnst Bayx of Pompeii. 











(Col. Robeet H. Bakkow), 




'' Nothing extenuate, nor set down aught in malice." 

Every reader of history is fully aware that much of the 
material which guides the opinion of posterity is derived 
from memoirs, the writers of which little fancied they 
would ever see pubhcity, and from private letters, 
penned in all the confidence of friendship. Necessarily 
there must be- much in the every-day life of a people 
which escapes the chronicler, however acute. 

The war which is ragmg between the Federal and 
Confederate States has been, and I beheve stHl con- 
tinues to be, a subject of interest throughout the civi- 
lized world, and though much has been pubHshed by 
the extensive press of the Federal Union, as well as by 
correspondence in Em^opean journals, there still remains 
suflacient matter for the employment of the historian, or 
novehst. I have not presumed to penetrate into ex- 
planations which may be unknown for half a century, 
V)ut I would say that the contents of this work may cast 


some light on many minor points, wliich in tlieir own 
way may ])e co-relative ^vitll weightier evidence. I 
have followed with faithftil and imtiring zeal the pro- 
gress of the strife between North and South, and trea- 
sured up in the storehouse of memoiy every incident 
worthy of record, from the fall of Fort Sumter up to 
the present date. Thus, knowing much of the tone of 
feeling in the various portions of the South, I believe I 
am justified in di-awing inferences of the thoughts, 
hopes, and aspirations of the interior life of those who 
dwelt there, and have deemed that I have not inappro- 
priately woven a connected chain (the results of my 
obsei-vations and experience), which I most respectfully 
present to the public. 








0, the sweet South ! the sunny, sunny South ! i 

Land of true feeling, land for ever mine ! '•■ 

I drink the kisses of her rosy mouth 

And my heart swells as with a draught of wine, ' ^ 

She brings me blessings of maternal love ; ; 

I have her smile which hallows all my toil ; ; 

Her voice persuades, her generous smiles approve, \ 

She sings me from the sky and from the soil ! 

0, by her lonely pines that wave and sigh ! 

O, by her myriad flowers that bloom and fade ! 

By all the thousand beauties of her sky, ! 

And the sweet solace of her forest shade, : 

She's mine — she's ever mine — i 

Nor will I aught resign ] 

Of what she gives me mortal or divine ; ! 

Will sooner part 

With hfe, hope, heart— ^ 
Will die — before I fly. 

^ J 


! love is hers— such love as ever glows 
In souls where leap affection's living tide ; 
She is all fondness to her friends— to her foes 
She glows a thing of passion, strength and pride ; 
She feels no tremors when the danger's nigh 
But the fight over and the victory won, 

How, with strange fondness turns her loving eye 
In tearful welcome on each gallant son ! 
0, by her virtues of the cherished past — 
By all her hopes of what the future brings — 

1 glory that my lot with her is cast, 
And my soul flushes and exulting sings— 

She's mine— she's ever mine — 
For her will I resign 
All precious things — all placed upon her shrine ; 
Will freely part 
With life, hope, heart — 
Will die— do aught but fly ! 

At the time this story begins, there was situated, a few 
miles below the city of New Orleans, a magnificent 
chateau, on a large and extensive sugar plantation. In 
front swept the bold Mississippi, bearing on its bosom 
the mighty ship freighted vnth cotton or sugar, or the 
lighter craft of some Cuban Dago, returning to his island 
home after his sale of fruits. Ships and vessels of all 
nations were plying the river, and the hum of voices 
and song of the sailor were heard at all hours, night and 
day. In the rear of the building lay, for miles in extent, 
the cane fields, whose verdure and midulations in the 
wind resembled a heaving sea of emerald. Here and 
there were seen the sturdy negroes, as they worked at 
their daily labour, and in the background their cabins, 
at whose door, after their tasks were completed, they 
assembled to dance by the hght of the moon or stars, 
to the sound of the all-inspmng " banjo." All spoke of 


happiness and repose, as well as of industry. The in- 
terior of tliis Southern home was not the less inviting 
than its exterior ; it was built in a square form, inter- 
sected by halls of pohshed marble, and on either side 
were beautifully carved doors, entering upon suites of 
apartments, which an inhabitant of the Orient might 
feel rich in possessmg. Statuettes lined the halls, and 
filled the niches of doors and windows, wliile little 
Dryads were seen peering from the richly wrought 
leaves of the carved staircase, which led to the upper 
apartments of the building. Eveiything bespoke the 
elegance and refinement of the possessor, to whom the 
reader will now be introduced. 

Seated in the library in an arai-chair was a gen" 
tleman of about forty-five years of age. His classic 
head and face would have been a study for an artist ; 
though advanced in years, his hair was jetty black, and 
his flashing, dark eyes bespoke him a Creole of the 
sunny clime, in which we find him. Poring over a book 
with the intentness of a deep thinker, and with con- 
tracted eyebrows, he had sat for hours, until, startled 
by a soft hand placed on his own, he started and ex- 
claimed : 

" Tliis you ! my beautiful girl ; have you come to 
arouse me fi'om my dreams of ambition to the realities 
of my state, or to chide me for spending my time in 
reading of the heroines of romance, when there are 
those around me rivalhng far in excellence and beauty 
anything that history afibrds us ?" 

" Ah, no ; the fii^t I would not rouse you fi-om, for 
my own soul soars aloft on the wings of ambition, and 
I feel that within me which, I am assured, did circum- 

B 2 


stances afford an opportunity, woukl give the power to 
execute deeds such as only a Joan of Arc could dream of; 
as to the latter, I know yom preference for the heroines 
of the ancient school, and am not willing they should lose 
any part of yoiu- admiration." 

" Possibly, then, my dear girl, you will soon have an 
opportunity of chsplaying the power to which you allude, 
and I may yet he so lost in admiration at the adventures 
and exploits of my darling ward, as to be disgusted for 
ever T^-ith the tame heroines of romance." 

" Why think you so ? Is there aught in the elements 
which forebodes a storm ? Is the political heaven in a 
murky state, and do the Jupiters of om- country forge 
the thunderbolts of battle ?" 

" Alas, I fear that ere another month glide away, 
the clangor of arms will be heard amongst us, and the 
shiill bugle note will call to arms every honest citizen. 
And then will come the worst of all wars, — fraternal and 
civil conflict." 

" ^ly soul, perfectly resigned, my dear guardian, will 
go forth to meet it. Too long, too long, indeed, have 
those fierce mjTmidons of the North been allowed to 
make laws for us, to govern us, to teach our youth, and 
worst of all, to enter om* homes, and bi-ing, concealed 
under their sheep's clothing, the wolf's teeth, destined 
to gnaw out our veiy vitals. Yes, my dear guardian, 
come what mil, I am ready to give my last cent to a 
cause so holy as that of our independence. Jealous of 
om' wealth and happiness, they have swoitl to exter- 
minate us, as sincerely as we are determined to be exter- 
minated ere they shall rule over us." 

"Yes! it is indeed too true," he answered; "we 


have brought into oiir homes, and warmed at onr fire- 
sides the serpents that, with renewed Hfe, were to tm-n 
and sting ns. But we must triumph ; our's is the holy 
cause. The South will only rise when she is invaded. 
It is our determination to act on the defensive ; and as 
South Carolina has already seceded, our o^vn State will 
soon be in rebellion against a government who places 
in the Presidental chair a negro president or defender. 
Would I were a Titan, to hurl him from where he sits, 
together with liis adherents." 

" Yes, dear guardian, it is the base machination of a 
minister who, with a host of satellites, sit at his elbow, 
and whisper in his uneducated ears then- own well- 
matured and fiendish plans. He is controlled by a crew 
of abolitionists, whose only grudge against the South 
is — slavery. Guardian, I feel that, woman as I am, I 
could seize a sword in so just a cause." 

Rising from his seat, he took the maiden's hand, and 
pressing it to his heart, answered — " My dear NataHe, 
you would not be the grand-daughter of General de 
Villerie, did you not feel thus ; and I have no appre- 
hension that should it at last come to a conflict between 
us, that the gMs and women of sixty-one will not be 
behind those of seventy-six in deeds of daring and 
courage ; though your Southern blood rises in all its 
vigour, I feel that you are yet too much the woman 
not to wish for an amicable arrangement of our diffi- 

" Assuredly, you do me but justice in sa^ang so ; 
though I feel my spirit rise m defiance, my heart would 
bleed to think that a day would come when brother 
would wield knife agamst brother, father against son, 


son against father, and friend against friend ; but should 
that hour come you will not see me shrink." 

" Well, adieu, Natalie, until my return from the city. 
I shall be absent to-night and to-morrow — I shall return 
and bring company with me ; be prepared to meet 
them ; and say to Madame Ernestine I shall expect such 
a welcome for my visitors and self as she can so well 
prepare, and which wdll do credit to herself and me." 

" Rest assm'ed, all shall be as you desire, and -with 
yom- permission, and to render your happiness more 
complete, I T\'ill ride over to Yalambrosa and biing your 
fair friend home with me, that she, too, may be here to 
welcome you on your retm-n. So, au revoir I " 

" Au revoir, my dear gfrl." 

In another moment our hero was seated in his 
carnage on his way to the city, while his fair companion, 
mounted on a magnificent steed, with a groom follow- 
ing, dashed gaily doA\Ti the coast. 

The young lady who has thus far interested us was 
the orphan daughter of Colonel de Yillerie, and upon the 
death of her father was taken to the house of his earliest 
friend. Judge de Breuil, the subject of our stor^^ He 
was the only son of an old French Count, and who, ^-ith 
an only sister, his senior by some years, were the sole 
inheritors of the plantation and groimds which have 
just been described, 

Miss de Yillerie, on the death of her father, was 
brought to their home, and, ever since that event, had 
been the Hght of the household. Xot very w^ealthy 
herself, she was not the less aspiiiag, and those aroimd 
her, although possessing gTeater wealth, felt themselves 
when near her of less importance. Proud, high spiiited, 


intellectual, and beautiful, she shone as a star of the 
fii'st magnitude in every assembly, and was the observed 
of all observers. No relatives, she felt herself enturely 
alone in the world, but, her good sense and refinement 
caused her to look with feelings of love on those who 
had taken to their home the bruised flower and nourished 
it in their hearts. She was never so happy as when 
near her guardian and his gentle sister, and their hap- 
piness was ever hers. We will now leave her to pursue 
her ride and turn to other scenes which will be described 
in the next chapter. 




" Lo ! the crowned virgin lifts her silver shield ; 
From Alleghauian peaks resounds the strain, 
* Let glowing freedom stand once more revealed 
Nor bend beneath the tyrant's yoke again. 
Better the sickle to the sword should yield ; 
War's desolation mar the fertile plain ; 
The ripened harvest rot upon the field — 
Far better than to wear the despot's chain.' 
From shadowy vales, from mountain summits bright 
Gleam the sharp lightnings of the Southern sword ; 
Bathed in the warm meridional light, 
Symbol of faith and token of reward, 
Flaming aloft the Southern cross shall rise 
While pale Arcturus wanes in Hyperborean skies." 

Seated around a clining-table in the salle-a-manger of 
one of the most stately and imposing private residences 
in Esplanade Street, was an assemblage of the most 
intellectual gentlemen of the crescent city. Though 
wine flowed freely, as it ever does at a Southern dinner 
party, there was no gaiety visible in the comitenances 
of those who composed the company. The party con- 
sisted of four gentlemen. At the head of the table was 
seated the host, a man of about fifty years of age, 
small in stature, with a face the traits of which displayed 


no ordinary intellect; a quick, penetrating eye, that 
would seem to fathom the very soul, and a voice wliich 
could inspire a crowd with whatever feeling the pos- 
sessor might wish to convey. To his right, was seated 
one who was, by at least fifteen years, his senior, and 
whose countenance bespoke more of generosity and 
pliilanthropy than that of decided intellect ; though it 
did not lack the expression of intelligence, it rather 
wore the look of genial kmdness. Opposite to this 
gentleman was placed one who, for many years, had 
shone as a conspicuous member of the bar, but who had, 
in the last few years, retired to private life to enjoy the 
fruits of his labour. He had long been the brilliant 
orator and statesman, and was again, in the political 
emergency of his country, called forth from the privacy 
of his retreat, to lend, once more, liis voice and counsel 
to his country's cause. His countenance was marked by 
a quick, shrewd, and haughty expression. The fourth 
party was one whom we have already described, and 
his visit to the city was for the purpose of meeting and 
discussing, with the prominent men of the day, the 
state of national affairs. As the servitors waited on 
the guests, and poured out wine into goblets of Bohe- 
mian glass, the following conversation was carried 
on: — 

"My friends," said the host, "we are assembled to 
day for the last time, I imagine around a table of the 
Union ; for, ere another month passes away, the tocsin 
of war will sound in om- streets, be echoed in our vales, 
and re-echoed from the mountain tops of a Southern 
Confederacy. The horn- is at hand when we must strike 
for our rights ; when a nation consents to relinquish its 


independence it must take the consequences of its con- 
dition. It must obey the behests of a power to which 
it is subject ; it must follow the dictates of a master, or 
endm*e the stiipes which are the penalty of disobedience. 
I ask you, gentlemen, will you calmly submit to sei'vi- 
tude? Negotiation might arrest a war; negotiation 
might effect a peace. How to come to a negotiation, is 
the cHfficulty. According to our theoiy, a way is open, 
to a common basis, upon which the parties might nego- 
tiate, but Northem theory has excluded the very possi- 
bihty of a basis. It places both the North and the 
South on as entirely different planes as Hades and 
Elysium. It has left a chasm, between which nothing 
but hate can fathom, and nothing but war can pass." 

" But," said the gentleman to the left, " if the South 
were even to compromise her theory, for the purpose of 
meeting the North in negotiation, the expedient would 
defeat its own object, for the moment she yielded one 
jot of her theoiy, she would, by her own confession, lose 
her national character, and pass out of the pale of diplo- 
matic intercom-se. On the other hand, the Northern 
theoiy would seem to be essential to the veiy existence 
of the Lincohi government, or it might be said, perhaps, 
of any government at all in the North. Nothing, indeed, 
at this moment, appears to stand between what there is 
of government left in the North and a whole legion of 
revolutionary demons, save the pending war Tsdth the 
South, Lincoln must fight for the life of his government. 
He must labour, or seem to labour to crush out rebellion, 
restore the Union, or, in other words, to satisfy the 
aiTogance, the raj)acity, and the complex fanaticism of 
the dominant party in the North; or, must confront 


the certainty of being himself overthrown as the head 
of the government. War will be the issue, and war 
to the knife let it be. It may be, that we shall never 
see the daylight of peace breaking through the clouds 
and darkness of war, until the last remnant of Federal 
government has passed away, and the last Bruce 
or AVallace has slept with their fathers. But be 
the end as it may, let Secession be our guide and 
watchword, and, until our independence is achieved, 
let not a voice be silent, but let our determination to 
be free ring abroad, as did the cry of our forefathers, 
when, crouching beneath the English lion, they broke 
the chains wliich fettered them ; and may our efforts be 
as glorious and successful. " 

" Yes," repHed the individual to the right, " let our 
watchword be SECESSION and Independence, but let it be 
done peaceably, if possible ; if not too late, we may yet 
an-est the progress of that fatal demon — war, and spare 
the lives of thousands, ay, millions. We sit calmly, in 
our council chambers and discuss the liability, possibility, 
and necessity of war, but we little think of the misery 
it will entail on those who will be compelled to fight 
our battles. The clouds are not, as yet, all lowering. 
I perceive one bright spot in the horizon, and we may 
yet reach the shade of its protecting shelter, ere the 
thunderbolts burst over our heads and leave us exposed 
to the storm of violence which is agitated in the 
political horizon of both parties. God forbid, that I 
should live to see this glorious Union dissolved, that 
my forefathers had fought, .bled, and died for, whose 
flag, waving over all seas commanded the respect of all 
nations, and whose influence, none could deny. Wher- 


ever the American standard floated there might the 
poor and oppressed of every nation gather beneath its 
folds. America was the mother of the exile and home- 
less emigrant, America the mother, the impartial mother, 
who received, with outstretched arms, her children fi'om 
every chme. Pause, my kind friends, ere this step is 
taken. The shades of oiu- forefathers rise up to warn 
you, to entreat you to pause, ere our mother lies bleed- 
ing at your feet, and your matricidal hands are steeped 
in her blood. Will you look calmly on, and take no 
efiective means to redress such evils ?" 

"tSliall we, sii'," exclaimed the third party, "bend 
our backs to the lash of insolent would-be masters, and, 
helot like, receive the chastisement of these Romans — 
Romans only in cruelty ? Shall we go on in this course 
and not take effective means to redress such monstrous 
evils, shall we forfeit self-respect, abase ourselves in the 
eyes of posterity, or shall the South, thoroughly aroused 
to the necessities of her case, insist upon war to settle 
our difficulties ?" 

" Sir, do not deem that I wish to see our country 
humiliated, no sir, I am Southern, as well as you, and I 
believe I need not refer you to the pages of history to 
prove my ancestors no cravens. Their names shine on 
liistory's page, as brave and honoiu-able, but humane 
men. I shall not presume, longer to speak of them, it 
is only to vindicate myself; my birth is Southern, my 
education is Southern, my family and friends are 
Southern ; but Tvdth these sentiments come stronger 
feeHngs still, the feeling of philantln'opy, which forbids 
my desire to see the blood of the human race flo^\4ng 
in streams from the sanguine altars of Moloch, when it 


might be arrested by those who rule at our seat of 
government. Yes, I am Union now, Union ever, but 
the Soutli must have my defence, my assistance, should 
* Greek meet Greek.' " 

" You speak. Sir, as a Christian and a Southerner," 
said the host, " but there is no aid that is human, to 
avert this war. Have we not foreborne until it has 
ceased to be a virtue ; are we not looked upon, already, 
by other nations as the footstool of a greater power. 
We are deemed. Sir, but another Ireland or a Poland. 
A press, which has pretended to be Southern, is found 
not only to applaud the doings of our enemies, but, also 
to direct its slanders agamst those who adopt a patriotic 
course. What wonder is it, that we should sink in the 
estimation of other nations. Has not the South ne- 
glected to employ her instrumentality in the production 
of native, vigorous, healthy, loyal institutions ; and, has 
she not, thus far, apart from local politics, depended on 
foreign nations for her reading ? to pause would be for 
her to manifest a fatal hesitation ; and has she not 
doomed herself to dwell amid the defilements of a 
detested past, and to famish in arid plains, to feed on 
Dead Sea apples ? but she is now about to break her 
bonds. She is now standing on the threshold of a 
glorious, mysterious, and wonderful future. Beneath 
the rainbow arch of hope that spans the di'eadful cloud 
of war, her gateway lies, her path extends ; but she must 
not hesitate, she must not cast one regretful look upon 
the doomed cities of the plain, under peril of being 
petrified upon the spot, to remain a melancholy monu- 
ment of national suicide." 

" To the future we must look," rephed the person to 


the left, " our past relics of pride and greatness, a 
patriot would blusli to gaze upon." 

" But, sii-," said the host to the fom-th party, "you 
have not, as yet, given us your opinion ; you sit a silent 
listener. What are your sentiments ? " 

" Mine, sir," said the person addressed, " are those of 
the South in general, or that of every true Southerner. 
Lincoln went into the Presidency with the declaration 
on his hps that the Union could not exist, half-slave and 
half-free, and, he called to the chief pLaces in his council 
the Northern politician, who proclaimed an irrepressible 
conflict between slave labour and free labour, wliich no 
constitutional provision and no state measm-es could 
withstand. I now state that the only condition for 
peace wliich any part of the South mil consent to, is 
that of final separation from the North and acknow- 
ledgment of complete independence ; that wars to resist 
and force unwilling millions into connection as subjects 
with a government they have deliberately denounced, 
will be a gigantic folly, as well as an enormous sin. 
Abolition has taught its chikfren to cm'se the Soutli, to 
abhor the slaveholder. Could so saving a principle be 
sedulously inculcated without, at the same time, carry- 
ing along with it a group of destructive instincts and 
venomous propensities, that w^ould annihilate all that is 
beautiful, truthful and good ? Abolition, with its capa- 
cious mouth, has swallowed up everything. In that one 
idea, all self-culture, vu'tue, and intelligence has been 
neglected. "What abolition has sown, that also must it 
reap. Its manifold crimes against society and mankind 
have been hemous and unnatural, its retribution must be 
equally so. The South, when she once shakes the dust 


off her feet, will never enter the gilded portals of the 
union again. She is confident in the glorious destiny 
that awaits her, and feels her mission to be one of ex- 
tension and conquest, and will stand alone and unaided. 
It may be years ere the trial is ended, but aught that 
can be urged to the contrary, is as nothing in the way of 
her determined will. To-day we know that in every 
Southern state the cry is ' Secession," and many more 
suns shall not rise ere the Confederacy will be organised. 
South Carolina, with all the spirit of its Irish ancestry, 
has sprung, armed cap-a-pie, from the head of the re- 
volutionary Minerva. She shall not go forth alone ; but 
what think you of our navy ? " 

" Su', our navy is as nought, in comparison with 
that of the North. In fact, we possess none ; but then 
we will be acting on the defensive. Om- ancient foes 
possessed all the arts and implements of warfare, but, 
being the aggressors or invaders, were defeated. Rest 
assured, they will find us equal to the emergency, and 
when all om* Southern officers shall have left them, they 
will have little to boast of in a naval point. Then let 
Secession be the watchword of every true Southerner," 
exclaimed our host ; " and now, gentlemen, we will 
cease this discussion for the present, and enter the 
di'a wing-room, where you will find the ladies, with 
whom you will, no doubt, be pleased to discuss other 

"Union, Sir, is my motto, and will ever be so. 
Nevertheless, I shall lend my assistance to the South," 
exclaimed our distinguished and philanthropic fnend. 

As the folding doors opened, the ladies rose to ex- 
change courtesies with the gentlemen, and, on re-seating 


themselves, Madame B remarked to Judge de 

Breuil, " You have been quite engrossed of late, I 
presume, ^^^th the politics of the day, as jomt female 
friends have not had the pleasm'e of seeing you very 
often ; and even yom' charming ward, I hear, is quite 
an entlmsiast on the subject of secession." 

" Yes, Madame, my ward, as well as myself, I 
believe, is prepared to rise and don the sword and 
buckler in defence of our country ; and, I doubt not, 
she could almost lead an army herself a gams t the foe." 

"Ah, indeed," exclaimed Madame S , "is she so 

determined and patriotic ? If she were not so beautiful, I 
should fear her offering herself as a sacrifice on the altar 
of her country, something on the Joan of Arc style ; 
but from what I know of her, I would say she will be 
more prudent, and offer sacrifice on the altar of Hymen." 

" She is a noble woman, indeed, and happy the one 
who ^^dll call her his," exclaimed Mr. R . 

"By the way, Judge," said Madame B , "we 

learn from the best of authority (which, of course, you 
know, is Madame Riunour) that your ward is soon to be 
led to the altar by the elegant Lieutenant Belden. May 
I ask, Sh, if there is any truth in the report." 

"As you have received your information, Madame, 
from so reliable an authority, my gallantry does not 
permit me to contradict a ^ladame, so I shall have to 
refer you to Miss Natalie for particulars." 

"Ah, Judge, you are veiy severe, at all events. I 
did not give credit to the rumour, as Lieutenant Belden 
is a Northerner by bhth, as well as by education, and I 
am sm-e that, with her liigh piinciples, she would never 
consent to wed one of om- enemies. No, we cannot 


consent to see our beautiful flower borne from us. She 
must wed one of her own cHme." 

" It is unhappily the case," answered Madame S , 

" that our Creole young ladies are, most generally, in 
favour of the blue-eyed, fair-haired sons of the North, 
and that, vice versa, the Creole gentlemen admire 
Northern beauty. But should a war take place be- 
tween us, it will end such relations between them for 
years to come, and I shall be only too happy to know 
how soon it may be the case." 

The conversation was here arrested by the entrance 
of the usher, bearing, on a silver waiter, a card, which he 

delivered to Madame S . Glancing at the card, she 

remarked, " Usher the lady in," at the same time, turn- 
ing to her guests, she said, " Those amongst you who 

have never met before the elegant ]\Iadame N , of 

New York, will have the pleasure of seeing her now." 
As she ceased speaking, there entered a lady, gorgeously 
attu'ed, of a commanding person, but not, what we of 
the South would even term handsome. 

Madame S advanced to meet her, and, after 

their salutations were over, turned, and in a most 
graceful manner introduced her to the company. 

" I have called to make my parting adieus, Madame 

S , and I am happy to find some other of my friends 

with you, as my time is limited, and I might not have 
the pleasm*e of seeing them ere my departure for New 

" Then do you leave us so early," replied Madame 

S , "you have, generally, remained much longer 

with us, and have often spent a portion of the season 
at our summer resorts." 


" Yes, sucli had been my intention when I came South, 
but our difficulties have tlirown up a barrier between us 
and enjoyment. That hissing word, Secession, whose 
very sound would suggest the proximity of a sei-pent, 
is the only thing to be heard in your city, and there is 
not even the common courtesies of life exhibited towards 
any save those who utter Southern sentiments." 

" I am Sony," replied Madame B , T\'itli a smile, 

"that yom- stay should be rendered so unpleasant, but, 
at the same time, must inform you that you are address- 
ing Southerners who are quite as devoted to that un- 
pleasant w^ord as you are against it, and though to you 
it may suggest the proximity of a serpent, to us it is 
only like the brazen serpent which Closes erected for the 
Israelites. We will only have to look upon it to be 
healed, and, like the Psylla of ancient times, we are 
jiroof against the venom of serpents ; were it not so I 
fear, my dear Madame, your Northern reptiles would 
have exterminated us long ago." 

"My dear ^ladame N ," exclaimed Madame 

S , " I am sorry that our city is not more agreeable, 

but I dare say that, diudng the present state of affairs, 
a Southem lady in New York would not be any more 
agreeably situated when listening to words such as 
union, aboHtion, &c." 

The gentlemen who conversed apart were amused at 
the conversation, and Judge de Breuil hastened to 
remark, with all the com-tesy of a true Southerner, 

" Madame N , you, of all persons, I should say, have 

the least cause to tliink harshly of us. I have ever deemed 
that you had received so many/e/e*, and met -svdth such 
flattering attention, during your visits here that we had 


almost won you to our cause. I trust, however, we 
shall meet in better and happier times. So, wishing 
you ' hon voyage^' I will now bid you farewell." With 
a graceful bow he left the room, followed by the other 

Madame N , after several bitter vituperations, took 

leave, and there was not one of the party who regretted 
her departure. She was one of the Jellaby sort of 
women, the only difference being that she had wealth 
to assist her in disseminating her ideas. She was 
one of that style of wealthy, ill-di'essed, ill-bred Northern 
aristocrats who fill our hotels during the ^vinter, and 
who, through courtesy, are invited to the homes of our 
planters, and then return to the North to write of 
*' Legrees " and " Uncle Toms." 




" Know ye the land of the cedar and vine, 
Where the flowers ever blossom, the bees ever shine ; 
Where the light wings of zephyr, oppressed with perfume, 
Wax faint o'er the garden of Gull in her bloom ; 
Where the citron and olive are fairest of fruit, 
And the voice of the nightingale never is mute ; 
Where the tints of the earth, and the hues of the sky, 
In colour, though varied, in beauty may vie, 
And the purple of ocean is deepest in dye 1 " 

The reader is now about to be introduced to another 
scene, one that may be seen at all times dming the 
winter or spring in our clime. The air in the Southern 
States, or those bordering on the gulf, is fresh and 
salubrious. It fans the cheek ^dth a fragrance borrowed 
from the aroma of deep green fields, wliich the frosty 
hand of ^dnter scarcely changes. The forests stretch 
far away and are pictured in dark relief against the 
sky. The heavens seem roimded up in their subhme 
expanse of deep blue, in which the diamond stars appear 
to swing as it were on golden pendulimas. As was said 
above, the breath of winter does not ^\4ther the dark 
and rich green leaf of the forests. The flowers are 
gorgeous and flauntiog while the entire sceneiy of this 
boundless Eden reminds one of a flower garden on an 


extensive scale. Music of thousands of birds fill tlie air, 
and tlicir variegated plumage, golden green and red, 
present a brilliancy of appearance which the most fervid 
imagination can scarcely realize. The mocking-bird 
smiigs on the branches of giant trees that seem to 
sweep their ai-ms against the sky, while the Spanish 
moss, swapng gracefully to and fro, seems like a 
morning drapery worn for the ancient owners of the 
land (who are in this region almost extinct), and re- 
calls to mind the beautiful lines of the Rev. T. Hemp- 
stead : — 

" There is a little tangled plant tliat grows, 
"Within our Southern clime ; 
And in the fanning breezes hangs and flows 
Like flakes of hoary rime. 

" The red bird singing 'gainst the tassels grey, 
Presses her flaming breast ; 
And tears, with her strong beak, the threads away. 
To weave them round her nest." 

All nature seems here to be offering her incense to 
the gTeat Giver, and here the boundless heart of 
Southern pliilantln-opy seems flowing over with good 
will and generous hospitality. The future of the 
Southern country is as glorious as ever were those 
of Italy or Greece, and her brightest and best days 
are but dawning. Her sun is but beginning to cast 
its early beams around, her noon svHl awaken the 

In the midst of such scenery as has just been 
described was located the home of one who will figure 
conspicuously in this story. The house was adapted to 
Southern comfort, being a one-story building with a 


verandah running round it, opening on which were 
windows descending to the floor. A spacious hall ran 
through the centre, on either side of which were 
situated parloui'S, hbrary, and di-a^Wng-rooms ; the 
right wing contained bed rooms and boudou's, the left 
being devoted to the " salle-a-mangery 

In the front of the house was a large park, while, in 
the rear, a terraced garden displayed to the visitor 
flowers of every hue and clime. In the distance might 
be seen the negro quarters glorying in brilliant white- 
wash, and almost hid beneath the vines which grew in 
front of each door- way, and which formed a pleasant 
shelter from the rays of the sun at noon-day. To each 
cabin was attached a little garden, in wliich the useful 
and ornamental vied T\dth ea(?h other. Far away, as the 
eye could reach extended the verdant enclosm-e, by 
which fields, house, and cabins were encircled. The 
beautiful cherokee rose turning its tendrils, and forming 
a fence so dense that not even a bird could penetrate it, 
and reminding one of a rich mosaic brooch in a setting 
of emerald. 

Stanchng side by side on the steps of the mansion 
just described were tln-ee ladies. The eldest was about 
forty years of age, and from her fair hafr, and yet un- 
wrinkled brow, you could easily perceive her to be a 
daughter of the North. The youngest, from the great 
resemblance she bore to the former, might easily be 
recognised as her daughter ; though her complexion and 
features were very like her mother's, she possessed that 
dolce-far-niente aii* which is only peculiar to native- 
born Southerners. Her face was round, childish, and 
artless. Her complexion, fair as a lily, ^vith the rose 


tints blushing on her cheeks, while her long golden 
curls swept over her neck and shoulders in wanton 

Her figure was tall and slender ; with hands and feet 
so delicately moulded that they would have served as a 
study for an artist. She was dressed in a riding-habit 
of dark-blue cloth, with a cap of blue velvet and black 

Her companion, the very opposite of this, was 
Miss Natalie, spoken of in the first chapter ; she seemed 
like a very Diana, as, with whip in hand, and attired 
in a dark green velvet riding-habit, with a cap, the 
feathers of which floated over her shoulders, she stood 
awaiting, while the groom brought forth two richly 
caparisoned horses. 

" AcHeu, Mrs. Clifton," she said, gaily j "I shall keep 
yoiu' charming Cornie with me until you issue one of 
yom- stern mandates for her return, or until, at least, 
I can send her home under the protection of such an 
escort as shall prove agreeable to her." 

" I trust you mil not keep her long ; she is the Hght 
of Vallambrosa, and her voice, ringing tlirough our halls, 
dispels somewhat the gloom which weighs upon our 
hearts, when we permit our thoughts to stray outside 
the home circle." 

" Chere mamma," replied the daughter, " I shall soon 
return to you ; and say to papa, if either he or brother 
will come for me, the day after to-morrow, I shall most 
willingly retm-n." Kissing her mother, she sprang into 
her saddle, and joining Miss de Villerie, their horses 
were heard clattering down the road through the park, 
and they were soon out of sight. As they rode onwards, 


the following conversation, commenced by Miss Natalie, 
took place. 

"When I look aroimd and behold our beautifiil 
forests, noble lands, and majestic rivers, I thiak how 
blessed we are in this lovely clime ; but then, when my 
thoughts dwell upon what it may become, through the 
cruelty of an invader, my heart sinks ^\^thin me. Look, 
Cornie, and see those sturdy negToes in the field ; do 
they look much like what the fiends of Abolitionism 
represent ? Well clothed and well fed ; their songs are 
rising on the au' in anthems of happiness. See, yonder, 
the smoke risiag fi'om then* cabins where they rest after 
their day's labour is done. No care, no fear for the; 
mon-ow. If sickness prostrate them, they are nm-sed 
and cared for ; not like the poor wliite slave who toils 
without ceasmg, and then, when illness prevents him, 
from labounng, he is wretched at the thought at having 
to pay all his hard-earned money for the services of a 
physician or a nurse. Which is the happier, think you ?" 

" Ah, my dear Xatahe, to us who know the difference, 
of course, the former state is preferable, but liberty, you 
know, is sweet. The negro may imagine that to be free 
comprises all the necessary enjoyments of life ; he 
knows nothing of self-reliance ; and, almost in eveiy 
instance, w^here freedom has been bestowed he was 
wiUing, after a very short time, to seek the home of his 
master, content to roam no more. Freedom, like many 
other things, palls upon his senses when he finds that 
it merely consists of mdependence, coupled with the 
necessity of supporting himself My father, thougji a 
large slave-holder, whose very interest is in the South, 
is of my mother s opinion — that a means might be 



adopted for their emancipation at some future day, which, 
if undertaken at the present, would involve the ruin of 
the whole South." 

" I fear, my dear Cornie, that yom* father has been 
biased in his judgment by your excellent mother, 
whose northern principles and education has prejudiced 
her too much, perhaps, in favour of the land of her 
nativity, and too much against the land of her adop- 
tion. Such an advent will never arrive ; God forbid it 
should. What, think you, would become of this beau- 
tiful land? Who would there be to till those large 
fields whose bosoms teem with the wealth of nations? 
And who, think you, would work ^ beneath the tropical 
sun ? They alone are fitted for it by nature. If no 
other feeling than that of interest would prevent my 
desire of their returning to their own land, the feeling 
of pity for their condition, which in then- own country 
is so degraded, would banish for ever such an idea. 
By ancient as well as modern writers we are told of 
their low state, morally and physically. They worship 
nought save reptiles, and, if we can believe statements 
made by men of science, they are, in themselves, only 
a higher order of serpent. Have you ever read Dr. Cart- 
wright's treatise ? if not, I should be pleased were you 
to do so, as it will elucidate more clearly my remarks. 
If his statements have any truth in them, or any of 
those from whom he quotes, then slavery has been, 
indeed, a mercy to them." 

" Yes, I have read his discourse ; but 0, Natalie, it 
would be terrible to entertain such a belief If I 
imagined it was so for a moment, I could never consent 
to live surrounded by them." 


" Comie, it is not in your power or mine to render 
their condition happier ; but we should be content with 
the thought that God has willed it thus, and that we 
are caiTying out the Divine intentions when we stiive, 
in the manner we do, to ameliorate their imhappy con- 
dition. But, Cornie, here we are at home, and here comes 
the porter to open the gates for us." 

" Glad you come, Miss Xat'le, and how ee do. Miss 
Comie ; I was jist 'bout to go arter you. Masser dune 
kum home, and de house full ob cumpany, and only 
waitin for de ladies to make der fehshity kumplete." 

Ere the old man had finished tliis compliment the 
young ladies had rode in and dismoimted, and were 
exchanging salutations with their friends, who had come 
out to greet them. 

" Miss Natalie," said an elegant young gentleman, 
stepping forward, " I feared we were to be deprived of 
your society this evening, as the day was waning, and 
you had not arrived. 1 accepted your guardian's invi- 
tation to Rosale for the express pm'pose of seeing you, 
and enjoying a spirited conversation ^vith you.", 

" I am most happy to see you, my kind fi-iend ; but 
before proceeding fm-ther, permit me to present to you 
my friend Miss Clifton. Miss Chfton, allow me to intro- 
duce you to ]\lr. La Branche." 

*'x\nd now, if you will excuse us," said ^liss de Yillerie, 
" we will retire and exchange oiu* habits for more fitting 
attire, and then have the pleasure of rejoining you in 
a few moments." Bowing low, he left them, and our 
young fi-iends ascended the staircase to their rooms, 
where we will leave them until their retui'n to the 



" From life without freedom, say who would not fly 1 
For one day of freedom, ! who would not die ? 
Hark ! hark ! 'tis the trumpet ! the call of the brave, 
The death-song of tyrants, the dirge of the slave. 
Our country lies bleeding — haste, haste to her aid ; 
One arm that defends is worth hosts that invade." 

Reclining on a divan, in the back parlour of Rosale, 
was a lady of about fifty years of age ; her face was fair, 
and the bloom of earlier days was still visible on her 
cheeks. Her hair was silvered over by Time's frosty 
fingers, but her dark, clear, and penetrating eyes would 
have added a charm to one even younger. She was 
attired in a steel coloured silk, while her head was orna- 
mented by a rich barbe of pointe d'Alen^on, fastened 
with pins of jet set in the Etniscan style. She pos- 
sessed an easy, self-possessed manner, while her voice 
had that distinct, but modulated tone of the well-bred 
woman. By her side was seated a young gentleman, 
to whom the reader has just been introduced in the 
former chapter, while his friend. Count Beauharnais, 
was in a deep conversation with Judge de Breuil. 

" You will, I trust, remain with us some time. Sir. 
A person cannot be a judge of a country, its manners, 
customs, and institutions in less than, at least, a six 


months' sojom-n. There have been too many histories, 
books of travel, and such like, written on only a bird's- 
eye view of a nation." 

"This is my first visit to America," replied the 
stranger, " and, though I cannot see much in its institu- 
tions to admu-e, still, the courtesy of its people adds a 
charm to one's tour, and makes one love and respect 
them for receiving, with such open hospitality, the 
stranger in a foreign land. They seem to be perfectly 
unsuspicious, and receive one in a truly democratic 

" You are, possibly, mistaken in your judgment. Sir, 
of us, and draw your conclusions from our Northern 
friends, or rather, our enemies now. They are more 
enthusiastic than we, and receive, with out-stretched 
arms, any one who may present themselves bearing 
letters with any stamp of nobility or marque ; but we 
of the South must be veiy well assured of a person's 
claim on society, ere he is introduced into our home 
cu'cle. You do not find our Southerners making beasts 
of burden of themselves to draw the chariot of one even 
royally descended, much less that of a danseuse or 
prima donna, as was, and is, the case still, in the North. 
No, Sir, though we do not lay claim to any coat of arms, 
save those of nature's noblemen, every man in the South 
feels himself a /rec-man, and that is more than I believe 
your kings, queens, or princes can say. !Merit, with us, 
is the only nobility we acknowledge. You are well 
received, Su', both North and South, not for the fact 
that you bring letters of undeniable marque, but for 
tlie reason that your family is not unknown to us. We 
are quiet, unostentatious, but sincere people." 


" Yes, the difference of manner is very observable 
to a traveller," said the gentleman ; " but, to one who 
can Imger but a short time in the country, the manners 
of the Northerners prove more agreeable. They seem 
to be warm-hearted and unsuspecting ; and, if it be but 
ephemeral, it is like the ray which gilds the mountain- 
top, though it melts not the snow upon its summit, 
nevertheless, lends a charm, while it lasts " 

" And to complete the metaphor, I will add," said 
Judge de Breuil, " that, like the mist which floats 
around the mountain peak, obscuring, for a while, the 
snow on its summit, that reserve we bear towards 
strangers when we prove their worth, vanishes as 
imperceptibly as does the mist. Should you remain 
with us for any time, I trust you will leave us with 
the impression that, if not so democratic, we are, at 
least, more sincere, than the people of the North." 

The young ladies entering, the gentlemen rose to 
receive them, and, Albert La Branche introduced his 
friend, Count Beauhamais, to Miss de Villerie, when 
the latter introduced her friend to the Count. Saluta- 
tions being over, the party seated themselves, and 
Albert la Branche, turning to Miss de Villerie, said — 

" Madame de Breuil," (which she was termed, in 
courtesy to her age,) "and myself have just been listen- 
ing to a long discussion on the manners of North and 
South, between yoiu- guardian and my friend. I am 
sure the North will find a warm advocate in you, n'est 
ce pas.^^ 

" Though I am no friend to the North, I am not, yet, 
so prejudiced in my opinions but to confess that there 
are many, veiy many great intellects and shining lights 


amongst them, and some, too, that we might be proud 
to denominate Southern. Yet one who will claim the 
poHtics of the North can never be very dear to me." 

" Miss Clifton, may I ask your opinion on this all- 
engrossing subject? " said Albert la Branche. 

" My opinion is of very little weight," she replied ; 
" but having relatives North, my views are, probably, 
not unprejudiced. I love the Union, and, regret that 
aught should have ever occmTed to render its dissolu- 
tion necessary. We lived so happily together, all like 
one large and happy family, that I must say that I cbead 
the hour which shall see us sundered; but my friend, Miss 
de Yillerie prays for the separation as ardently as I do 
the contrary." 

*' Ay, veiily," said Miss de Yillerie, " we vnll put it 
to the test. 

* And say, as stem Elijah said of old, 
The strife now stands upon a fair award, 
If Israel's Lord be God, then serve the Lord : 
If he be silent, faith is all a whim, 
Then Baal is the God, and worship Him.' " 

" South Carolina, Mississippi, Alabama, Florida, 
Georgia, and Texas, have already seceded, and, to- 
day, we look for the returns of Louisiana," said Judge 
de Breuil. 

" Ha^dng so many friends at the North," said Miss 
CHfton to Miss de Yillerie, " I should imagine that you 
would feel some pang at the impassable gulf which 
Secession ^dll inevitably cast between you. Are there 
none whom you wish to retain as fi*iends?" 

" Not one, I would sever my very heart strings, if I 


thouglit they bound me to an individual of Northern 
principles. What! to kiss the rod that smites me. 
Never ! No, never ! I trust to-day will bring the news 
of our separation from our detested enemies." 

" I was not aware the ladies of the South were 
pohticians," said Count Beauliarnais, "but I penieive 
that Miss de Villerie is quite a strong one. I had 
imagined it was only the ladies of the North who ever 
expressed themselves on politics, and had supposed, 
that, into the sacred precincts of a Southern symposium 
such subjects were never introduced nor debated." 

"I am well aware. Sir," said Miss de Villerie, "the 

very exalted opinion most nations have of us. They 

imagine us to be entirely devoid of the fundamental 

principles of an education, with only a slight knowledge 

of accompHshments ; that we do nothing ; are, in fact, 

incapable of thinking for ourselves, and, worse than all 

this, they imagine that we dream our lives away in 

quite an Oriental style, and sip om' cafe or eau 

Sucre, quite a la Turque. We are indebted to our fair 

sisters of the North for this very flattering portrait. 

In future, we shall paint and draw our own, even 

should we be considered somewhat egotistic for so 


"They should employ you then to paint for all, 
]\Iiss de Villerie. I think a better artist could not be 
found, but one so ardent and sincere as yourself on 
political subjects, would not be the less so in matters of 
love, friendship, or any feeling of the human heart. I 
do not thmk for an instant that you would cease to love 
one because liis principles did not coincide with your 
own, or that you would yield up, on the altar of dis- 


sension, the afFection of years' standing, or the claims of 
an okl friend." 

" Then, Sir, you do not judge me rightly ; not 
because another's principles do not in ever^^thing agree 
with mine, but for the reason that those who affirm that 
the North is just in her course to the South, and that 
Lincoln is right m his determination to force her to 
remain in the Union, and by so doing to oppress us in 
the manner we have already submitted to. But hark ! 
heard you that sound? Yes, there it is again. I am 
sure we have seceded, yes, again and again." 

" Miss Chfton," said the gentleman, " do you not 
rejoice with us." 

" No, no, I can never exult -^^^th you over this. To 
you the soimd may be sweet, to me it is almost a death- 
knell, tolling the dirge of all I love. How very sad 
the booming of those cannon strils:es to my heart." 

" Boom on," said Miss de Yillerie ; " to me it is 
sweeter than the music of the spheres. Count Beau- 
hamais, behold Miss Clifton, she is positively weeping." 

" I am not weeping, my dear friend," said Miss 
Chfton, as she hastily bi-ushed a tear away, which 
trembled on her eye-lid ; " but tears vnll start involun- 
tarily when I behold the once tnumphant flag of oiu* 
country each day losing a bright star, and that too of the 
first magnitude. ^Miat to you brings joy, to me brings 
soiTOW." As she ceased speaking, she rested her ann 
on a corner of the table, and bowing her beautiful head, 
whose golden cm-Is swept over her, she gazed out into 
the dark, until you would have supposed, from her atti- 
tude, that she was holding converse ^^dth imseen spirits, 
-and from the expression of her deep blue eyes, that she 


could read, on the defliced records before lier, the future 
of her uuhappy land. 

Count Beauharnais seated himself by the side of 
Miss de Villerie, while Albert la Branche seemed rapt 
in an admiring gaze of Miss Clifton. He at length 
approached, and, seating himself by her side, said, 
"Miss Chfton, you seem to be quite abstracted; will 
you allow me to ask what may be the subject of your 
meditations ?" 

" Certainly. I was just thinkmg that when we shall 
cease to exist on earth, will our troubles end for ever, 
or is there still another and yet another world, where 
the good and evil passions of man shall strive for the 
mastery. If we are all, as Plutarch supposed us to be, 
each possessed of a good and evil genius, or, as the 
modems have it, a good and bad angel, is it not a pity 
that the Evil One's coimsel most generally predomi- 
nates ?" 

*' It is, indeed, to be regi'etted," added he, " that 
such is the case. We are all born, or supposed to be, in 
the state of original sin, and our inclinations tend more 
in the dhection of evil than of good. From the time of 
om- first parents' trespass to the present moment it has 
been the same. There seems to be more pleasure in 
doing evil than good. Unless we have been fortunate 
enough to have been morally educated, man's passions, 
when not governed by sentiments of morality, are apt 
to lead him astray, and when once he does lose sight of 
his good angel or genius, they seldom meet again on 
this side of the grave." 

"Yes, it is too true," she replied, "that when the 
angel guardian takes leave of some poor wanderer, in this 



vale of sorrow, or rather, when some misguided youth 
turns his back upon his monitor, or closes his ear to 
his low but kindly whisperings, he nevertheless still 
follows on. Ever ready, should repentance come, to 
administer counsel, and to plead his cause ^^th the 
King of Kings ; it is seldom he is recalled, unless the 
dying struggle of some poor ening one summons him 
to his bedside at the eleventh hour, to offer some atone- 
ment to an offended Deity. There, even at that moment, 
the gentle guide is standing, his T\ings drooping over 
the couch of the dying sinner, mitil the last sigh is 
breathed forth when his earthly mission is ended ; then, 
pluming his flight for heaven, he records the deeds of 
one whose footsteps he followed here below. It is a 
beautifid idea, that when all desert us, that there are 
two who s}mipathise with us, our Heavenly Father, and 
our good angel." 

" You cannot, certainly. Miss Clifton, have ever 
known such son'ow as would have caused you to seek 
sympathy from any som'ce, celestial or teiTestial." 

" Sorrows of my own I have never experienced, but 
soiTOW for others' woes I have. I feel an interest in 
every one's joys and griefs. The poorest wayfarer on 
Hfe's high road is one of God's creatures, and, as such, 
is entitled to my consideration. Oh ! how I have sighed 
for some fair Arcadia, where all might live in peace and 
tranquillity, where no storms shoidd arise to destroy the 
calm of Hfe ! " 

" You desire, then, to inhabit some fair Utopia, 
where all would be perfect. I would say to you, then, 
dream on, fair dreamer, for this state of affairs can never 
be while the human race exists. Sir Thomas Moore 


wrote his work under the inspiration of some fair spirit 
of another sphere. The idea is sublimely beautiful, but 
would require creatures of a different species as inhabi- 
tants, totally unallied to the human race." The servants 
entering, placed before each of the guests small tables 
of rosewood, others sei-ved the tea in cups of Sevres 
chiaa, while cakes were passed around in baskets of 
silver. The conversation now became general, Avhen, 
tea being over, and the tables removed, the young 
ladies were called upon for music. Mr. la Branche 
arose, and, throwing open the piano, requested the 
ladies to sing a duette. 

"As we can sing with more ease standing," said 
Miss de Villerie, "it would be better if Madame de Breuil 
would play the accompaniment for us." 

" Will you be so kind, Madame de Breuil, as to play 
for us ?" said Miss Chfton. 

''^ Avec plaisir,'" ssiid Madame de Breuil, and, rising 
she was escorted to the instrument by Mr. la Branche. 

" A voire service^ mademoiselle." 

" What would you like to hear — something from 
Norma, or La Juif?" 

" The former. Miss de Villerie, as it is well adapted 
to your style," said Count Beauliarnais. " I think you 
will do Norma justice, while Miss Chfton, will make a 
fine, imploring Adalgisa." 

Soon music filled the room, and the exquisite voices 
of our fair friends rose and fell in rich bursts of melody 
through the halls, while the moments flew on unheeded, 
as song after song was sung, and piece after piece exe- 
cuted. Madame de Breuil played with a masterly touch, 
as did also the young ladies. 

D 2 


*' Miss Clifton, you ^\all, please, play and sing some- 
thing toute seuhj'^ said Judge de Breuil, " something soft 
and sweet ?" 

" Certainement ; but I shall ask ^liss de VilHere to 
sing the first, and I T\dll sing the second." 

" Guardian only desires to hear you, !Miss Chfton ; I 
shall not break the magic of the spell yoiu- voice \^^ll 
throw around him by any discordant notes of mine." 

" Miss de Villerie, 1 should be delighted to have you 
sing with Miss Clifton, if she requires a voice to sustain 
her, but I am more anxious to hear it unaccompanied." 

" Thus, you see, my dear Miss Chfton, I am formally 
dispensed ^N^ith." 

" Allow me to tium. your music," said Mr. la Branche ; 
" what T\all you sing ?" 

" Youi' favourite, if you wish." 

" Then sing your own, and that T\'ill be mine," he 
answered, bending over her. She softly and tremblingly 
struck the chords, and sang, in her most touching tones, 
" Ave Sanctissima." Her voice rose and fell like the 
sighing of a lost spirit, and the " ora pro nobis" died 
away in lingering cadence. When she ceased, there 
was not a soimd ; silence reigned supreme. All seemed 
too rapt in the dying echoes to feel that she no longer 
sang, and ere they were aroused, om- fair cantatrice had 
left the piano, and sought a seat in a retired part of the 

Miss de Villerie was the first who broke the en- 
chantment. Smilingly pointing to her guardian, who 
sat as though fearful to move, lest he should lose a note 
of the melody, she said, turning to Miss Clifton, " Behold 
thy work, fair syren." 


" Thanks, many thanks, my dear Miss Clifton," said 
Judge de Breuil. " Yom- voice has lost none of its 
pathos since 1 last heard you. When I Hsten to such 
music as yours, I do not doubt of the power of 

Madame de Breuil, rising and bowing to the gentle- 
men, withdrew, followed by the young ladies ; they 
retu-mg to their rooms to spend a gay horn- in discussing 
the events of the day, and then to sacrifice to the gods 
Somnus and Morpheus, while the gentlemen retired to 
the library to enjoy a cigar. As we have no disposition 
to know what tliei/ have to say, we will follow the young 
ladies, and, for your pleasure, reader, become eaves- 
dropper on this occasion, and will relate, as accurately 
as possible, their conversation. 

On entering the room. Miss de Villerie remarked — 

" Now, my dear Cornie, we shall discuss the gentle- 
men, as, no doubt, they will take the liberty of doing 
with us. How are you pleased mth our young scion of 
nobility and my old friend Albert la Branche." 

" They are both so agreeable I can scarcely make a 

" Ah ! it is useless to ask you for a decided opinion 
upon any subject. You are too grand a diplomat. I 
think Albert would be more candid, from w^hat I was 
able to discover this evening. Cornie dear, you opened 
the artillery of your charms upon him, and he surren- 
dered at once." 

" Natalie chere, you are cruel. If I were desirous 
to make use of the lex talioms, I do not think you would 
have much the advantage, but I shall be merciful. May 
I ask what you think of Count Beauharnais ?" 


"Most assuredly. What dd I think — let me see. 
Rather a handsome Frenchman, air, trcs distingue^ very 
much more modest and retiiing than most of his country- 
men ; not remarkably intelhgent, but quite graceful in 
his manners, with a radicated sense of liis position and 
aristocratic connections^ TN^th a very capacious heart, 
and your humble servant, if I judge aright, occup^ong 
the largest chamber in it this evening. To-moiTow I 
shall abdicate (beifig the best policy, where a French- 
man's love is concerned) in favour of a more fortunate 
rival. Is this silfficient, or shall I be still more candid ?" 
" Ma cheri Xatahe," you have been over canchd, I 
assure you, but, as you are such an excellent delineator 
of character, draw a shght portrait, if you please, of 
Mr. la Branche." 

"Yes. Albert la Branche, an elegant, high-bred, 
feigh-souled Creole, partaking in disposition and tem- 
perament of the tropical nature of the clime of which 
he is a native. Fiery and impetuous, generous and the 
soul of honour, devoted to fi-iends, implacable to enemies, 
loving with all the ardour of a sincere natm-e : and now 
that I have finished the picture, I will give it to you to 
treasure in your heart of hearts." 

" Thank you for the gift, but I am scarce worthy of 
such a keepsake ; but, Natalie, vraiment et entre 770ns, 
have you never loved any one, or do you, and have you 
ever treated your admirers as cavalierly as I have ob- 
served you to do on all occasions. Is there none who 
has ever made an impression." 

" Tres bi'en pour vous, my fair inquisitor, you have 
donned the priestly robes, and are prepared to hear and 
absolve, I suppose. Well, you deserve to have your 


penitent make a clean breast of it, and now listen : the 
citadel of my heart was stormed and taken possession 
of the first winter of my dehiit in society. The victori- 
ous general was one whom you have never seen, though 
he is not unknown to fame. He is a native of the far- 
oiF north, but I know he entertains no such ignoble 
sentiments as those by whom he is surrounded. I feel 
assured, when the war-cry rmgs from hill and dale, we 
will find him foremost in our defence. I know that he 
Avill never become the oppressor of the South." 

" Ah, ma cliere Natalie, thhik you that he will yield 
for ever his claim upon home, friends, and kindred to 
become the champion of a cause in which he can have 
no interest, save that of his love for the daughter of a 
clime where everything in it is opposed to him and his 
except that one fair being. I am no logician, my dear 
Natalie, such is my opinion, and you will find your idol 
dust; if so, be not disappomted. He may love you 
ardently (and who is there, knowing you, that would 
not ?) but, Natahe, he ^dll never, no never, desert the 
cause he will espouse for any love, be it human or 

" Then hear me, Comie, the moment he becomes my 
country's foe he can no longer be anything more to me 
than any other invader of om' homes and firesides, 
though I love him as I can never love other than my 
God, I would cast him fi'om me, and the gulf of obhvion 
should for ever roll over every reminiscence of the past. 
I would oifer my love, my burning, my fii'st, last, and 
only love, as a saciifice on the altar of my country. But 
this can never be, he is too noble ever to become an 


'* I trust, for your sake, dear Natalie, that he may be 
all you would ^^^sh him, but should ' a change come 
o'er the spirit of your cbeam ' you will remember, often, 
what I have said to-night." 

Miss de Yillerie, sounding a bell, a nice-looking 
mulatto girl answered the summons. "Cornie, Yio- 
torine is at your sei*vice, 1 shall not retire just at 
present, when you feel disposed to do so, act sans 

'' I shall do so forthwith, and leave you alone in your 
boudoir, for I am anxious to seek my couch to revel in 
the land of di-eams, wliile I leave you to think on the past 
and dream over the future. Bon soir," she whispered, 
bending over Miss de Villerie until her curls, like a veil 
of golden mist, enslii'ouded both. " Dans voire orisons 
souvenez vous de moi!' and then turning to the maid 
she said, " Yien Victorine." Alone in her boudoir Miss 
de Villerie sat till long after midnight. As the damask 
curtains fell on the retreating form of Miss Chfton, our 
herome thi-ew herself at the feet of the statue of the 
blessed Virgin which reposed on an altar in the room, 
which sei-ved both as oratory and boudoir ; long and 
fervently she prayed, her dark hair faUing over her 
shoulders in artless confusion, and her large and dark 
eyes raised to Heaven, while her hands were clasped in 
an agony of despair. Her words were A\ild and stormy, 
and ran thus : — 

" Oh, God ! who hearest thy supphant, I beseech 
thee, if possible, to let this bitter, bitter cup pass from 
me ; but, hke thy Son, I too say, ' Thy will, not mme, 
be done.' Dark and dreadful presentiments fill my soul, 
but He, to whom there is nothing in Heaven or on 


earth impossible, shield me from all ill and dash not to 
earth my brightest hopes. The darkest day of my 
life, but the brightest for my country, I see now dawn- 
ing. Far into the future my soul's eyes have pierced, 
and I see the glorious land of my nativity shining forth 
from the clouds which have so long envu'oned her, and 
growing brighter and still brighter as ages roll away, 
until, comet-like, her splendom- blazes forth, and comet- 
Hke will dazzle all the world. Yes, Thou who rulest the 
heavens and earth, and who giveth victory to the just, 
art with us. Thy strong arm shall divide the sea of 
blood which will flow between the North and South. 
Thou wilt pass thy chosen people tlu-ough its depths, 
and Thine arm shall be withdi^awn and, like Pharoah 
and his hosts, om- enemies will pensh in the surging 
waves which shall pass over the last remnant of them. 
God of my forefathers, thou hast given me the gift to 
foretell the fate of om- blindfolded enemies, and though, 
Cassandra- like, I should trumpet it forth, it would meet 
with a Cassandra-lilve reception. Not until the fii'e and 
the sword should have devastated and swept all be- 
fore them would my words find belief. The hour is 
fast approaching in which shall sound the clarion note 
of war ; oh ! in that hour remember the father, the 
mother, the sister, the brother. In that hour, oh, God! 
the father shall go forth from his family, mayhap never 
agaui on earth to behold them. The son shall go forth 
in the might of right, and his young blood shall flow 
upon the battle field, and his last sigh escape to Thy 
throne from his goiy bed of death. In that hour, 
beloved Saviour of mankind, as in this, I pray thee to 
have mercy. I pray, not alone for those who are near 


and dear, but alike for the humblest of thy creatures, 
who shall march forth to vanquish the invader. I 
pray Thee, oh, God! to spare the inhabitant of the 
humblest cot in our valleys, the dweller in the rude 
hamlets of our mountains as well as the occupants of 
stately mansions. I, oh, Lord ! am but a creature of a 
day, formed but to die, but not eternally. I am thy 
victim, do with me as thou wilt. If my young life 
would serve as a holocaust on the altar of my country, 
thou knowest, who readeth all hearts, how gladly I 
would yield it up an offering to thee and to my owti 
beautiful sunny South and native land! Like the 
daughter of Jephtha, I would go forth to meet the 
victorious general and bless the hand that smote me. 
Thou, blessed Mother, whose arms seem stretched forth 
to receive me, intercede with thy dear Son in behalf of 
my country and of me. Sainted Mother, look down upon 
thy cliild and hear me. Mqther of soitows, mother of 
Divine Grace, beg of thy dear Son the boon, that when 
storms and strifes of nations shall cease, all who fight 
bravely under His banner, friends and enemies, shall 
enter hand in hand (terrestrial pains and sori'ows alike 
forgotten) together into Heaven. Jesus, Mary, and 
Joseph, I retire to dream that I am with you." 



" Tune your harps, 
Ye Angels, to that sound ; and thou, ray heart, 
Make room to entertain my flowing joy !" 

" Sweet notes ! they tell of former peace, 
Of all that look'd so rapturous then ; — 
Now wither'd, lost — Oh ! pray thee, cease, 
I cannot hear those sounds again !" 

]\I0RNIXG found oui' party assembled around tlie break- 
fast-table discussing over their chocolate and cafe, the 
morning journals, which contamed the news of the 
seceding of the State. The gentlemen were exultant 
while Madame de Breuil uttered her sentiments in 
favour of the act with her usual quiet dignity. ^liss 
de Yillerie's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm and all 
were joyous, save Miss Clifton. She was true to the 

" The city, I presume, w^ll make a demonstration 
to-night in the way of an illumination," said Judge de 

"Without doubt," said Albert la Branche, "and 
Judge, Count Beauharnais, and myself will be pleased 
to accompany you in your drive to the city this morning, 
as we are anxious to see and hear all we can." 


" My dear guardian, Miss Clifton and myself will 
also go tliis morning, as Madame de Brenil wishes to 
illmninate, we are to send out the necessary materials ; 
and, if you have not forgotten, my fete to celebrate 
secession comes off as soon as possible. Miss Clifton 
and myself will spend the day in the city, giving the 
necessary orders and superintenduig the purchases." 

" Then I perceive, Miss de Yillerie, that you are de- 
termined yom- sentiments on pohtical subjects shall be 
blazoned forth ? " said Coimt Beauharnais. 

" Most assuredly, Sir ; I tnist no one wtII deem me 
other than I am, a loyal Southern woman." 

" Ladies and gentlemen, the equipages await you," 
said a servant. 

The ladies retiring, in a moment returned attired in 
carriage costume, and rejoined the gentlemen, who were 
waiting to assist them to their carriages. 

" Miss de Yillerie," said Count Beauharnais, as he 
placed her in the phaeton, " I shall long have cause to 
remember my pleasant visit to Kosale, can I hope the 
remembrance of it will be at all agreeable to you ? " 

" Why should it be otherwise ? " she answered, 
slightly colom-ing; "it affords me much pleasure to 
receive and welcome to my home all my friends, and as 
such I cannot but denominate any one to whom my old 
and well-b .loved fiiend Mr. la Branche may introduce 
me, and will certainly be remembered by me T\dth 

" Then adieu for the present. Miss de Yillerie," and 
springing into the carnage he sat awaiting his fiiend 
Albert la Branche. 

The latter, as he was taking leave of Miss Clifton 


said, " May I hope to be permitted to call on you at 
your own home, and cultivate an acquaintance mth one 
whom I am desirous to know more of ? " 

" If a forther knowledge of myself is pleasing to you, 
I shall be happy to see you at Vallambrosa." 

" Then, with a hope of meetmg at an early day, I 
bid you good morning." Bowing low to Miss de Villerie, 
he rejoined his friend, and they were soon diiving 
rapidly up the coast towards the city. 

Madame de Breuil, with her housekeeper and maids, 
sat all day twining wreaths and triumphal garlands ; 
arches of evergreen were made, and doors, windows, 
and gates were festooned, while japonicas and other 
flowers were suspended from pillar to pillar, which were 
entwdned with evergreens. Evening came, and brought 
with it our young ladies. 

"Oh! how perfectly charmmg, Madame de Breuil," 
said the yoimg ladies, in the same breath ; " we have 
seen nothing thi'oughout the whole city to compare 
with it ; you may feel assured that yom* residence will 
be far more beautifully illumuiated than any." 

" I tlnnkmy design very pretty, as did your parents, 
who drove over this morning," said Madame de Breuil. 
" By the way, they desired me to say to you, that your 
brother would be over this evening, and that, if you 
chose, you could go home with him ; though she did not 
leave it to your choice until, at my earnest soHcitation, 
that if you wished to remain longer with NataHe, you 
could do so. I tmst you will consent to remain with 
us and assist in issuing invitations for our/e^e." 

" I know that mamma is anxious to have me with 
her ; notwithstanding, I shall remam with chere NataHe 


until everything is arranged for her entertainment. 
Will mamma illuminate, Madame de Breuil ? " 

" Yom- father ^vished her to do so, but your mother, 
I believe, objected. Your brother vnll be here this 
evemng, and vn\\ join with us in our demonstrations. 
He, I believe, is not of your sentiments." 

'• Yes, my brother is a Unionist ; but he has always 
said he would fight for the land of his nativity." 

" Ah ! Cornie chere, your brother knows the just side, 
mais allons, there are many things to be arranged before 
night, and we have yet oiu- toilettes to make, and let 
them be quite becoming, as my dear guardian seldom 
comes home alone." 

Night came, and saw the mansion one blaze of light 
— ^halls, doors, Avindows, and gates shone forth in all 
the brightness that two thousand wax tapers could 
throw upon the scene, while in every tree hung coloured 
lamps, and through the garlands entwining the pillars 
light shone forth and was reflected far out into the 
river. In the centre of the house, and over the door- 
way, on a ground of cerulean-coloured silk, shone Hghts 
representing the constellation of the Southern cross, and 
the emblem of the State embroidered in silver — the 
pelican and her young; while, in rainbow colours of 
light, shone the motto, " We live and die for those we 
love;" on the archway of the gate blazed the word 
" Secession," while the sparkling waters of the foun- 
tains throughout the grounds added their tinkling 
sound to the loveliness of the scene as they fell into their 
marble basins. All beauty and light without, while 
revelry and harmony reigned within. 

" You cannot conceive, 'Mr. Clifton, what a strong 


Unionist your little sister is. I firmly believe that when 
the Union ship is beheld a sinking wreck, s^e will be 
found clinging' to the mast." 

" My sister is devoted to the cause, I know, as 
much so, possibly, as any strong-minded woman of 
the North; but, like many others, her birth was cast 
upon an evil time. She is no politician ; she is guileless 
in the world and all that pertains thereto. You have 
drawn. Miss de Villerie, a very good portrait of my 
sister. Whatever cause she espouses, she will cling 
to it with tenacity, and where she loves, it will be 
with devotion." 

" Miss Clifton, if you have no objection, we would 
like to hear ' La Marseillaise,' " said Judge de Breuil. 
" Shall I open the piano ? " 

"Yes, if Miss de Villerie will lend her voice to 
mme. and my brother and yourself consent to sing the 
chorus. Madame de Breuil, will you be so kind as to 
accompany us ? " 

The latter was escorted to her seat by Beverly 
Clifton, and soon that soul-sth-ring air rang out and 
rolled in swelling numbers through the spacious halls. 
As the song ended, there were heard approaching 
voices, and the servant, entering, announced Colonel 

Leland, Madame Bienvenu, Hon. P. S ', and Madame 

S . 

" Rather late visitors," said Colonel Leland, as Judge 
de Brieid advanced to meet them; "but we were 
attracted by the beauty of yom* illumination, together 
with the singing, and we at once drove in to see and 
admhe. We rode all round the city to-night, but they 
have nothing there to equal the beauty of this scene." 


" I am delighted to see you, and thank you for the 
comphment, and am glad, as you have just anived in 
time for supper. I see Victor coming to announce it." 

Bowing low, the servitor advanced, saying, " Supper 
waits." He remained standing to usher them in. The 
guests entered, and partook of a delightful repast, of 
which oysters, soft shell crab, mayonaise, with cham- 
pagne and old burgundy, formed the principal. 

"Miss de Villerie," said the Hon. P. S , "did you 

design this ilkunination ? If so, it speaks well for 
yom' taste." 

" I designed it," she answered, " but it was arranged 
by Madame de Breuil." 

" How are you, my charming friend ? " said Colonel 
Leland to ^liss Clifton ; " I am surprised to find you 
here this evening, and lending countenance to such a 
demonstration. Public Opinion deems yourself and 
family Unionists." 

" I was not aware, Sii', that ' Public Opinion ' ever 
did us so great an honour as to think at all of us ; but 
I am pleased, that when it did, it thought correctly, as 
is but seldom the case with that well-known husy-hody. 
My family are Unionists, Colonel Leland, but they are, 
notwithstanding. Southerners." 

" The rockets are ascending, ladies and gentlemen," 
said Judge de Breuil ; " will you walk out on the balcony, 
to have a fine view ? " 

" Oh ! how transcendently beautifid," exclaimed the 
whole party, as one after another they flew up into the 
air and exploded, sending out their meteor-like lights. 

" You have yet to behold the most chaiTning sight," 
said Madame de Breuil; "but," she added, "I believe 


Tve will have the whole city with us," as carriage after 
carriage stopped in front, depositing their occupants at 
the gate, which entering, they sauntered through the 
grounds in admiring wonder, 

''^ Bon soir, ladies and gentlemen," said Albert la 
Branche and Count Beauharnais, as they sprang up the 
steps on to the balcony, where our party were standing. 
" We could not resist the temptation of driving out to 
have a view of this scene." 

"I assure you. Miss de Villerie," said Coimt Beau- 
harnais, " such a scene of enchantment would do credit 
to the taste of a Madame de Pompadour, and vies with 
any scene, I think, ever given at ' La Petite Versailles.' " 

" There is nothing that taste or art could suggest, 
Count Beauharnais," she answered, " but is worthy of 
the cause, for which this is but a feeble demonstration." 

" Miss Clifton, I had not hoped for so great a plea- 
sui'e as again meeting you here, and the enjoyment of 
tliis evenuig will be greatly enhanced by yom- presence," 
said Mr. la Branche. 

" Thank you, Sn, for your kind sentiment. But, 
hark ! what is this ?" The company all rose, as a most 
magnificent band was heard in the distance. Nearer 
and yet nearer it approached, until immediately in front 
of the mansion were seen several beautiful sailing-boats. 
In the front were seated the musicians. The masts 
w^ere wreathed with flowers, while lights, varied as the 
rainbow, threw a charm over the whole, far too beautiful 
for the power of description. Resting upon their oars 
immediately in front of the mansion, the band discoursed 
the most delicious strains, to the delight and amaze- 
ment of the guests. 



" How soon does your ftte come off, Miss de Yil- 
lerie ? " said Albert la Branche. " If tliis is the prelude, 
I am sure it will be a most magnificent affair ; and, 
by the bye, I must not omit telling you of some distin- 
guished aiTivals in our city. There is at ^ladame 

G 's a most charming young lady. She is from 

Cuba, and spends a few months in our city. I trust 
Miss Clifton and yourself will call on her, and show her 
some attention wliile she remains amongst us. Her 
name is Senorita Inez Montijo. The other chstingiiished 
an-ival is Lord Ethelred, a Scotch nobleman, whom, if 
you will permit, I will take pleasm'e in introducing to 


"My/e^e will come off as soon as I can issue invita- 
tions, and as I do not think I shall be able to call on 
Senorita ^lontijo, I shall remember to drop her a card, 
nor shall I forget your other distmguished acquaintance." 

" I do not tliink, Miss de Villerie," said Count Beau- 
harnais, " that you Tsdll be able to forget him when once 
you have seen him, for he possesses the pecuHar tact of 
saying or doing something that generally makes an 

" I should not judge that you were very much 
prepossessed in his favom*," said Miss de Villerie, 

" I cannot say that I am. He seems to possess that 
barbai-ian style of manners only fitted to the highlands 
of his own comitry. A lord he may be, and with right 
and title too, but a gentleman never." 

" You should not judge so harshly," she answered ; 
"you know there are many rough diamonds." 

" Certainly there are. Mademoiselle, but we do not 


wear tliem in the rough. They are left with the lapi- 
dary mitil such time as there is sufficient polish on 

" The lapidary, in tliis instance, Count Beauharnais, 
to whom this gem may have been entrusted, may have 
been imskilful. We are told that there is but one in 
the world at present to whom jewels of rare value can 
be entrusted, and this is, I believe. Coster, of Amster- 
dam, and I do not thmk a Scotchman would consent to 
a polish from a ' Hollandais.' " 

" I shall not argue the subject further, but will await 
your opinion of the gentleman, and if it does not agree 
with mine, tlien Miss de Villerie will deceive me very 
much in the estimation I have formed of her judgment. 
However, to change the subject, would you like to 
promenade over the grounds ?" 

" Yes ; I have had but a contracted view of the 
whole scene this evening, and will walk out as far as the 
levee, and take a glance at the scene. Miss Clifton," 
she said, " mil yom'self and Mr. la Branche joni us in 
a promenade to the margin of the river ? The view, I 
imagine, is quite pretty from thence." 

" Most willingly," they replied ; and soon their voices 
were lost in the distance, and then- forms amidst the 
mazy labyrinths of the shrubbery. While they pursue 
their walk we will return to the other guests. 

" Who is that distingue looking gentleman with your 
ward. Judge de Breuil ? " inquired Madame Bienvenu. 
" He appears to be a foreigner." 

" It is Count Beauharnais. He has been here but a 
few weeks, having, as is the case generally with all 
visitors to America, paid his respects to the North first. 

E 2 


He is quite an elegant man, and one of no ordinary 
intellect, but, like most foreigners, sees nothing to 
admire in onr comitiy. Ever comparing its buildings, 
its manufactm*es, its commerce, and institutions to those 
of the ancient world, forgetting that our nation is but 
in its infancy, and that, Hercules-like, it can now strangle 
in its infant grasp the monsters that would seek its 

*' Yes," said Colonel Leland, " it is but too true that 
there are but very few who can look upon our country 
as it was, and as it is. To think, but yesterday, in com- 
parison with other nations, this vast country was but a 
boundless wilderness, and that too where foot of white 
never trod ; where the Indian war-whoop rang through 
hill and dale ; and that nothing larger ever floated on 
the surface of those broad lakes and rivers than the 
birch canoe of the savage. Behold it now! Palatial 
steamers ply om- waters ; and see yonder forest of 
masts, and then think of what we were and are. 
America, independent of the whole world, bears within 
her maternal bosom the teeming wealth of the globe. 
The seed of the old Puritan stock, dashed upon Ply- 
mouth rock from the Mayflower, has spread its poison- 
ing influence throughout our lovely land, and choked 
up and A^dthered that pm-est of all seed, the seed of 
brotherly love. The latter can never blossom again ; 
there is one p:irt of the nation where it has not taken 
root. The proper method shall be taken to prevent it 
from doing so." 

The young ladies retummg to the house, the guests 
took leave, and as the gates closed upon the last stroller 
through the grounds, the band struck up the beautiful 


air of "Farewell, farewell to thee, Araby's daughter," 
and soon the fauy boats were out of sight. 

Oui' heroine and Miss Clifton were up early the next 
morning, and after breakfast commenced their prepara- 
tions for the fete. The first thing to be done was to 
issue cards of invitation, and the two young ladies 
spent a greater portion of the morning in tliis employ- 
ment, while Madame de Breuil went from room to room 
superintendmg the arrangements. Victor was employed 
with his corps of assistants, and Mannassier in the con- 
fectionery department. 

" Victorine," said Miss de Villerie, "tell John I wish 
hun to deliver these cards." 

The servant withdrew, and soon returned, accom- 
panied by John, who bore a large, silver card basket. 
Miss de Villerie arranged the tickets hi the basket, and, 
with an injunction to retm-n as soon as possible, sent 
liim on his way. 

"Young ladies," said Victorine, '-Madame de Breuil 
wishes to see you, in the library." 

" Come, Cornie, we must now assist in the upholstery 
of the arrangements." 

Upon entering, Madame de Breuil said to them, 
" I merely wished to ask you if it would not be well 
to partition the library mto separate apartments, with 
hangings of damask, for card tables. The drawing- 
room being hung wdtli green and gold, I thought I 
would make the partitioning for the library of crimson." 
" Where will you have the dancing, Madame de 
Breuil ; not, surely, in either front or back parlour, it 
would ruin the elegant hangings ?" 

" The devotees of Terpsichore will have the drawing- 


rooms devoted to them, while the salons "will be devoted 
to those who feel disposed to be merely ' lookers on in 
Verona.' " 

" But, my dear young ladies, if you expect to receive 
yoiu* guests at the appointed time, you must assist yom-- 
self, and Miss Clifton can order the arrangement of these 
hangings with much more taste than I. How unfortu- 
nate that Siebrecht could not come ; possibly he may 
be here to-mon'ow." 

The hours wore on, and night fell upon the scene, 
when om- heroine, fatigued by the labours of the day, 
sauntered forth to breathe the air, unattended. The 
moon shone bright and beautiful upon the earth, and 
robed each object in silver sheen. A little star trembled 
beside the moon, and now and then a dark cloud would 
roll over and obscm-e both moon and star. 

" Pale trembler !" said om* heroine, •' I, like thee, 
follow at a distance, in thought, a planet still more 
lovely, for it is the image and likeness of Him who 
created thee. Sail on in thy imwavermg course, thou 
beautiftd moon ! The little star is still beside thee. 
Dark clouds enshroud, but when they vanish, your little 
star is still seen following on. So when the clouds of 
misfortune shall have lowered aroimd or enveloped thee, 
dearest, in thy far-off home, I shall be found beside thee, 
and when they pass away your little star will still be 
seen lingering near thee. Where art thou now ? Does 
the same orb which sliuies so calm upon me, look on 
thee, too ? Is it in joy or in sorrow ? Oh ! why is it 
not given us to know the future, or does God wdtlihold 
it for the best ?" 

Here a rustluig of the branches in the orange grove 


startled her. Turning, she beheld an old negress gather- 
ing the leaves of the trees. 

" Good evenin, Miss Natlie, I 'spect yu in lub, as I 
see yn here at dis late time ob night, meandrizin trou 
de grove, seemin so sperrit like, and lookin so butiful." 

" I might ask the same question of you, Cynthia ; 
you are not wont to come out of your cabin at so late 
an hom\ Are you a worshipper of your namesake, or 
the stars ? I was not aware that Africans worshipped 
them ; supposed the Chaldeans were the only wor- 
shippers at that slu'ine." 

" Yu see. Miss Nat'lee, I've cum out to gather some 
leaves and yarbs to make tea for my granchild, Jake s 
little son, what's named Nub ; he's orful bad fever, and 
his modder knows nuthin bout practis medcin." 

" I have understood. Aunt Cynthia, that medicine is 
not your only profession. I have heard that you are a 
foreteller ' of events, and that the stars, that to others 
are but soulless and speechless, to you are as the Delphian 

" Ef you mean I'se a fortin teller by that long name, 
Miss Natlee, I must just tell yu, honey, that the bressed 
Lord sometimes spires me wid a knowledge of de 

" Ah, if that is the case, you will not, I feel assured 
refuse to di^aw aside the veil of the futm-e, and read the 
inscription within. Come, Cyntliia, in simple words, tell 
my fortune." 

"Ah, my dear chile, I'se sorry you axed me, but 
I'll tell ee de plain truf, I'se read yom* life, chile, not by 
de stars, nor de moon, but, chile, by your sweet, proud 
lookin face long 'go. Your'e not g^vine to be happy 


and 'fliction soon'll kum. Not many days '11 pass afore 
that hibly high head ob your'n '11 be bowed m soiTor, 
and den, Miss Nat'le, you wont care no more for lumi- 
nashuns, parties, nor nuthin. Sum body way far off 
yonder lubs you mitey well, Miss Nat'le, but he's g^sdne 
to disappoint you ; not kase he's ontrue, but kase. Miss 
Nat'le, he's gT\Tne to have his own 'pinion, and dat 
wont coinslide vdd youm. But you'll not die ob grief. 
Miss Nat'le, for you know de bressed Savior says as how 
he ' fits de back to de burden.' Yu'll be like de eagle, 
Miss Nat'le, yu'll soar bove it all ; and now good night 
and 'scuse me if I'se ben too fon-ard in teUing you 
what's to kum." 

" Good night, Cynthia, and many, very many thanks 
for yom' information. You are not, at least, 

' The Sybil who weaves 
Sweet hopes for the future from memory's leaves.' " 

Retracing her steps, she was soon withm the portals of 
the mansion, and finding all had retired, sought her 
room, where we will leave her, and proceed to the next 



" There is a festival, where knights and dames, 
And auglit that wealth or lofty lineage claims, 
Appear— a high-born and a welcome guest 
To Otho's hall came Lara, with the rest. 
The long carousal shakes the illumined hall, 
Well speeds alike the banquet and the ball ; 
And the gay dance of bounding beauty's train 
Links grace and harmony in happiest chain : 
Blest are the early hearts and gentle hands 
That mingle there in well-according bands ; 
It is a sight the careful brow might smooth 
And make age smile and dream itself to youth 
And youth forget such hour was past on earth, 
So springs the exulting bosom to that mirth !" 

*' Lo ! all the elements of love are here — 
The burning blush, the smile, the sigh, the tear." 

Morning dawned clear and cold, but found all the in- 
mates of Resale astir, each anxious to see the last or 
finishing touch given to the arrangements for the even- 
ing festivities. Siebrecht, A\dth his corps of assistants, 
had arrived, and v^as arranging, with his usual taste, 
the hangings of the apartments. Victor and Mannassier 
were controllers of pantry and cuisine ; and when evening 
with its purple tints fell upon the scene, it found all com- 


" Victorine," said Miss de Villerie, as she sat before 
her elegant toilette miiTor, " I trust you will exert your 
utmost skill this evening, to render me as beautiful as 
possible, as I presiune this vnl\ be om* last fete this season, 
and, mayhaps, for years to come." 

" Yes, mademoiselle, but it is unpossible to contribute 
a ray to the smi." 

" Ah, Victorme, I peiTuit not flatteiy, and now do 
your duty in silence." 

Her toilette complete, Miss de Villerie descended to 
the parlour, where she sat with her guardian and 
Madame de Breuil, awaiting the guests. Before tbeh 
aiTival, however, we will spend a few moments in a 
description of her atthc, commencing with her coiffure, 
which was arranged in a most becoming style. Her 
glossy black hah was braided on either side of her 
fiice m a massive, triple plait, while the back was 
caught up in loops ^^dth a diamond comb. In the left 
front plait, ghttered a diamond star, while a chain of 
the same jewels, but of larger size, crossed her hah just 
a little above the forehead, and fell in a glittering festoon 
of light on the right side, and was connected with the 
comb in the back. She was atthed in a rich crimson 
rep silk, with two deep fioimces of rich Chantilly lace. 
Her corsage was tres decolte, displaying her beautiful 
neck and shoulders to advantage, while her bouquet de 
corsage was composed of flashing diamonds. Her ear- 
rings, necklace, and bracelets were composed of the 
same, while in her hand she held a fan, which was 
literally covered ^dth the same jewels, and which would 
have been en%4ed by a Sultana. 

]\Iadame de Breuil was dressed m a rich black siLk 


velvet, while her white, and yet well-rounded neck, 
shoulders and arms were covered by a guipure spencer. 
Her only ornaments were a lace barb of guipure fastened 
on the side of her still glossy hair by diamond pins, 
while her spencer was caught in front by a brooch of 
the same jewels. Judge de Breuil, with his usual 
taste, was habited in a suit of black cloth, while a white 
vest and kid gloves completed his simple toilet. It was 
now the horn- of ten, and the gates, thrown wide open, 
admitted the carriages with then' elegantly attired and 
fashionable occupants. Soon the parlours began to fill 
with as distingue looking a crowd as ever assembled in 
the halls of fasliion. The lights of the chandehers were 
softened by the lambent rays of six huncbed wax tapers, 
and the blue and gold hangings and furniture of the 
front parlour, as also the wliite and gold of the back, 
shone like the starry vault of heaven, while the swaying 
crowd seemed like the galaxy. There was quite a stir 

in the assembly as Monsieur G , Madame G , and 

Senorita Montijo were announced, and, though we have 
heard much of Spanish beauty, Senorita Montijo rivalled 
all that was ever seen or heard of She was of the 
medium height, of a dark olive complexion, and black 
hair, with large and flashing dark eyes. She was 
dressed in a heavy satm of pale straw colour, with 
over-skirt of rich white blonde. Her hair was richly 
braided with pearls, and gems of the same kind adorned 
her ears, neck, and arms. Her corsage, formed in the 
Spanish style, of satin and blonde, was fastened wdth a 
ceinture of pearls. She had the tread of a queen, and 
in her countenance was perceived the dignity and bear- 
ing of one who sprang from a noble race. She had all 


the grace of an Andalusian, with the perfect features of 
a Castilian. As she passed through the rooms, escorted 

by ^Monsieur G , she was followed by crowds of ad- 

mmng beholders. 

Soon music rose with a voluptuous swell, and soon 
the dance began. 

Albert la Branche led out the graceful ^liss Clarendon, 
while Lord Ethelred sought the hand of the bemtching 
w^idow Bienvenu, who, though not beautiful, possessed 
that eaprit wliich never failed to draw around lier a gay 
and brilliant crowd of admirers. Judge de Breuil, with 
Madame S — — , was the vis-a-vis of Colonel Leland and 
the beautiful Senorita Montijo, while Mademoiselle de 
Yillerie's hand was sought by Count Beauharnais. 
Many stars of lesser magnitude sparkled in this festive 
throng, but, amidst all, none shone T\ath so much splen- 
dour as the Cuban beauty and Mademoiselle de Yillerie. 
They reigned supreme, and seemed to rival each other 
in graceful display, as both seemed to possesss the very 
poetiy of motion. Miss Montijo, as she glided through 
the mazes of the dance with her floating veil and 
drapery, seemed a very Venus, with the foam of the sea 
still resting on her; while Miss de Yillerie, with her 
regal, queenly, brilliant diamonds and flashing eyes, 
seemed a very Juno. 

" Ye Gods," said Lord Ethelred, as Miss de Yillerie 
passed him, " I must say it would be a difficult matter 
for a Paris to decide this evening to whom the apple 
should be awarded. I must candidly confess that, in 
all the assemblies in which I have been, either in Em-ope 
or America, I have never seen two more beautiful ladies. 
In fact, I have noticed that the Creoles of New Orleans 


in beauty can vie with any nation of the earth, not ex- 
cepting the fair Circassians, and in taste of dress excel 
even the Parisians." 

" I thank you for the just compHment you pay my 
countrywomen," said Albert k^ Branche, " and they 
would not be the less grateful could they know your 
flattering opinion ; however, SenoritaMontijo is a Cuban, 
but not the less entitled to your praise of her truly trans- 
cendent beauty. 

" She is indeed beautiful," replied Lord Ethelred, "but 
I rather prefer that lofty style of Miss de Villerie ; her 
face is classically perfect and highly intellectual, while 
her eyes speak volumes. I would imagine her equal to 
any sacrifice when her pride was aroused." 

"Miss de Villerie is, most certainly, the undisputed 
belle, I shall not say of our city, but of our State ; she 
is not unknown either in a hterary point of view, and 
bids fair, in poesy, to be the Landon of America, while 
her prose equals that of De Stael." 

" She is, then," said Lord Ethelred, " a hlue belle." 

" Yes," said Albert la Branche, laughing, " and I 
believe gentlemen of your nationality are partial to 

" I am, indeed," said he, " and should be proud of 
such a lovely specimen of that class." 

" You will excuse me, Sir," said Albert la Branche, 
" while I speak to some friends, who, 1 see, have just 

As he spoke, he bowed to Lord Ethelred, and the 
latter, joining a party of ladies, was soon engaged in 
brilliant repartee, while Albert la Branche hastened for- 
ward to greet Miss Clifton, who had just entered with 


her brotlier ; and now all eyes were turned npon brother 
and sister. Beverly Clifton was about medium height, 
being slightly but well formed. His head was covered 
with wavy, golden hair, which fell over liis fair and 
higlily intellectual forehead in the most careless manner, 
while his large, full, blue eyes Avith their darkly-fringed 
lashes, Grecian nose, and well-foiTued mouth, completed 
as perfect and handsome a face as is ever beheld. We 
have already described the sister, but we will now 
endeavour to pourtray her as she stood at the present 
moment. Attired in white glace silk, with an over-skirt 
of puffed illusion inteiTaingled throughout, with rich 
blonde and small bouquets of white moss-roses and 
gauze libbon confining the puffs here and there. She 
wore no jewels, her only ornament being a natiu-al white 
moss-rose bud fastened on the left side of her hair, and 
confining her golden ringlets in then- place. If Miss de 
Villerie and Senorita ]\Iontijo were the Juno and Venus 
of the occasion, Miss Clifton was certainly the personi- 
fication of the lovely and retiring Psyche. 

Albert la Branche paid his devoirs to sister and 
brother, and was presently seen promenading the superb 
apartments with Miss Clifton leaning on his arm, while 
Beverly Clifton was observed bowing low at the shiine 
of the Senorita, to whom Judge de Breuil had intro- 
duced him. 

" This is, I presume, your first visit to om- city," said 
Mr. Clifton, " as I have not had the pleasm-e of meeting 
you before." 

" Yes," she replied, with her rich accent, " but I 
grieve to say it. Had I known of its many attractions, 
I think I would, ere this, have been an old fiiend. As 



it is, I do not feel as if tins were bnt a first visit. I 
seem to think that I have seen each object, and met 
each face in some familiar scene. It may have been in 
dreams, but I have encountered many here to-night 
that are strangers only in the etiquette of the word." 

"They may truly deem themselves fortunate who 
bear in their face an impress of your dreams, for I 
imagine you regard them with more favour than the 
unfortunate individual whose only recommendation is 
his introduction." 

" By no means ; yet it is pleasant to feel that we 
are smTounded by scenes and persons that are seemingly 
old acquaintances ; and yet it may be my feelings arise 
from the fact that Louisiana, at an early day, was under 
Spanish government. How strange it is, the many 
changes the government of this state has undergone. 
First under the French government, then under the 
Spanish, again the French, lastly the United States, 
and soon, I presume, to be under that of the Confede- 
racy. How does the latter, Mr. Clifton, accord with 
your sentiments ? " 

" I feel it were useless to express my opinion, as it 
has now gone too far for aught that one of Union 
pi-inciples could do or say to arrest the great issue, 
which is war. My family are Unionists, and regret to 
see the bright stars of the old spangled banner disap- 
pearing from the cerulean sky on which they shone so 
brightly for so many years. It may be only their 
sidereal day. I trust if so the sim, which rose so 
gloomily, may have a refulgent setting. The South is 
mine by birthright, the Union mine by heritage from 
forefathers, who fought, bled, and died in her defence." 


As he ceased speaking, Madame de Breuil advanced 

towards tliem, leaning on the arm of the Hon. P. S , 

and said, in her most engaging manner, "^Ir. CHfton, 
I tiiist you have not been entertaining om- fair guest 
with treasonable sentiments. Methinks I heard the 
words 'Union' and 'star-spangled banner.' You are 
aware, I presume, that these are ostracised from all 
patriotic assemblies." 

" Most assuredly, Madame, and lest I should meet 
with the same fate, I shall henceforth be more guarded 
in my use of the condemned expressions ; however, I 
know that you, Madame de Breuil, would refuse to 
deposit a shell against me." 

" I will promise you my support, I assure you, but 
on condition that you will never more offend. And now 
let us go and take a view of the card tables and their 
occupants, as I do not think you have yet even glanced 
at the rooms devoted to the graces." As they entered 
the room Miss Montijo's eyes became riveted on the 
face of one of the card players, a lady, seemingly but in 
the primp, of womanly beauty, though, on close inspec- 
tion, she was no less than forty-five years of age. She 
was above the medium height, of a rich brunette com- 
plexion, dark bro^^'n hair, and large, penetrating, hazel 
eyes. Dressed in a robe of crimson velvet, with a scarf 
of black blonde, richly embroidered in gold, thro^m over 
her magnificent neck and shoulders, which the art of 
none but a Creole would di'eam of covering. She sat 
with one arm resting on the table, gazmg steadily on 
the cards which the rest of 'the party had thi'own down. 

" What magnificent lady is that ? " said Senorita 
Montijo to her companion. " She is my very idea of 


an Oriental beauty." As slie spoke, Beverly Clifton 
turned in the direction to which he saw her looking, 
and replied, 

'• Is it possible that you have not seen before the 

superbly handsome Madame D , of our city ? She is 

the wit, and undisputed mamed belle. You perceive 
how completely absorbed she is in the game before her. 
She is accounted an unexcelled card-player, and report 
says she almost nightly at her palatial home either wins 
or loses a fortime." 

" I was under the impression, Mr. Clifton, that my 
country alone permitted the fair sex to indulge in such 
amusements. I had imagined it to be something un- 
known in America for a lady to bet on cards." 

" With the American portion of the community it is 
not tolerated, and it is only so amongst those Creoles 
who adhere to the customs of their French ancestors, 
and have clung with tenacity to a fashion which the 
very idea of its being Parisian is enough to make it 
legal in the upper circles. But let us on to other 
scenes. Miss Montijo. The band has ceased, and I 
hear a magnificent voice in strains of song. Will you 
go with me in pursuit ? " 

Leaving Madame de Breuil smTounded by a coterie 
of octogenarians, of whom she was the di^^nity, they 
advanced towards the chamber from whence the sing- 
ing proceeded. ]\liss Clarendon stood at one side of 
the piano, a very beautiful and attractive girl, while 
Miss Clifton stood on the other, and the melody of their 
voices soon drew a crowd around them. 

" What an enchanting voice Miss Clifton possesses," 
said Lord Ethelred. '• Her voice is perfect supplication 



and tenderness. I never listened to a SAveeter in my 
life. Though Miss Clarendon's is more the superb style, 
I do not like it as well. The latter would urge one to 
deeds of daiing, wliile the former would soothe one to 
acts of gentleness. The one the lark, soaring aloft, 
while the other is the plaintive dove. But see," he 
added, " here is the Pliilomel," as Miss de Yillene was 
seen advancing with a party of ladies and gentlemen 
towards the piano. 

" Come, Miss de Villerie, give us some music," said 
^ladame Bienvenu, who anticipated the wishes of 
Lord Ethelred. 

" To afford pleasure to my fi-iends, I consent," said 
Miss de Villerie, and, seating herself, she sang, -wdth a 
soul-subduing tone, the beautiful solo " Yiens," from 
Charles VI. 

As she ended she was called upon again and again, 
and politeness only caused her to relinquish the seat to 
others, for had she yielded to the solicitations of her 
friends she would have done so at the expense of her 
courtesy. Miss Montijo was now called upon to play, 
and seating herself at the harp, she struck the chords 
with all the Tsdlthiess and mastery of a Welsh bard, 
and sang in thrilling tones, "The Moorish Lament." 
Her large and liquid eyes seemed to s^^m in revenge, 
and her voice rose and fell like the sigliing of a storm 
spirit on ocean's rock-bomid coast. Her style was lofty 
and grand, and her every note thrilled to the very 
soul. When she ceased the band struck up a march, 
and the doors being thrown open, the guests entered 
the salle-a-manger^ where was spread a banquet that 
the most fastidious disciple of Epicm-us could not find 


the least cause to complain of. Wine flowed, and wit 
sparkled from fluent tongues, and the hours rolled on in 
revelry. Miss Clifton and Albert la Branche had sepa- 
rated themselves from the festive throng, and sought 
the inviting beauties of the conservatory, which opened 
from the parlours, and which was now illuminated, dis- 
playing the various exotics and gaily-plumaged birds in 
their golden wfre cages. There in the depths of arti- 
flcial groves, cataracts, and fountains, one might easily 
forget their identity, and imaguie themselves in the 
midst of a South American forest, or standing amidst 
the deep and fertile valleys of Switzerland, as here and 
there a miniature chalet peeped forth from an artistic 
opening in the shrubbery. In one part might the sad 
notes of the arapengo and alma-perdido be heard, and in 
another, and not far distant, the tinkling of a sheep 
bell, reminding one of Alpine glaciers, and the grazing of 
flocks at their vernal base. Arriving at a fountain at the 
lower end of the conservatory, Miss Clifton and her com- 
panion seated themselves. The tableau was beautiful. 
By the side of this fountain, in whose waters their forms 
were pictured, they sat while Time's flying hand pointed 
to the " wee small hours." Shaded by the leaves of a 
graceful palm, and gazing abstractedly at the nereids and 
dolphins which sported in the basin of the fount, sat 
Albert la Branche and Cornie Clifton, seemingly in all 
the boyishness and girhshness of a Paul and Virginia. 

" Miss Clifton," said Albert la Branche, as he took 
'svithin his own her yielding hand, " I trust the impetuo- 
sity of my nature will be suflicient apology for what I 
am about to say to you, and this, I find, is quite as 
appropriate a place as any other for the avowal of my 

F 2 


feelings. I need scarce utter the words, for you must 
have known that, from the moment we met, I loved you 
^^dth all the ardour, depth, and sincerity of one who, 
though possessing a susceptible heart, never knew the 
meaning of the word love imtil he met you. Yes, 
tliough I have knelt at many shrines, it was done TN-ith 
the same feeling as one who bows at the altar of the 
idol his ancestors worsliipped, ^^-ith the conviction that 
there was a true God, not fonned from things of earth. 
I, like this idolator, have found my idols dust, but in you 
have fomid the true divinity, at whose sln-me I shall only 
offer heart-incense, pure as ever rose in clouds from the 
altars of Baal, or the true God. Speak, Miss Clifton ; 
tell me that I may hope to win yom- love, and that I am 
not wholly indifferent to you." 

As he ceased speaking, she raised her eyes to his, 
and said, as the blushes suffused her neck and face, 
'* Mr. la Branche, is it possible you can love, or desire 
the love of one whose feelings and sentiments are so 
diametrically opposed to your s ?" 

" What matters it to me," he said, " what youi' senti- 
ments in regard to other tilings or objects, so that 1 
possess your love ? If we love each other there vn]\ be 
no difference of opinion. Parthenia gives to Ingomar 
the only tiTie definition of this divine feeling — 

' Two souls with but a single thought, 
Two hearts that beat as one.' " 

" Then," she replied archly, " this implies a pelding 
up of one or the other's nature, which yields ? I pre- 
siune, however, chemically speaking, the weaker sub- 
stance is dissolved by the stronger fluid ties ce pas f 


" Miss Clifton, there is nothing weak in love, be it 
human or divine. It was the latter that caused a God 
to immolate himself for migrateful men. It was the 
former which caused Coriolanus to forego a victory. It 
was the latter which left us records and footprints of 
saints and martyrs. It was the former that gave strength 
to a queen to suck the poison from the wound of her 
husband, caused by an envenomed dart. It is by the 
latter we hope for our salvation. Yes, Miss Clifton, it is 
only those who can boldly face suffering, and are pre- 
pared to make sacrifices, who can love. I feel assinred, 
too, that youi* sentiments on this subject coincide with 

"Vraiment," she said, "you are a most excellent 
expounder of the code of Cupid ; he has an able advo- 

" Ah, Miss Clifton," he answered, " I perceive that 
you are disposed to trifle with me, or that my homage 
has been offered to one who cares not for it, or who 
possibly gives me to understand by evasions that she 
would spare me the pain of a rejection." 

" Do not, Mr. la Branche, I entreat you, judge me 
so lightly, nor think for a moment I would trifle with any 
one's feelings, particularly one who has honoured me 
with such sentiments as you have expressed. No, be 
assured that your kind regard for me is not unappreciated, 
and believe me when I say that I am grateful for the 
partiality wliich has sought me out from amongst so 
many fairer and worthier ladies, and which has placed 
me, too, in the enviable position of being chosen by one 
whom it might be deemed a privilege to be permitted to 
love." She stopped soon as this sentence was uttered, 


and the blood which had died away, now retimied in 
gushing tides, surging over neck and face, and Al])ert 
la Branche rapturously and respectfully placed her hand 
to his lips, and then pressing it to his heart, said, — 

"Bless you, ]\Iiss Clifton, for those words, though 
they do me more than justice. I knew I was not mis- 
taken in your true womanly heart, and though if you 
could not love me, even I should deem myself happy 
and honoured in being possessed of your friendship. I 
know that om' acquaintance is brief, almost too much 
so in the estimation of the world, for the liberty which 
I have taken in giving utterance to words and feehngs 
which are but the outpomings of a heart biu-ning ^Wth 
all the intensity of a first, pure, and devoted love. I 
had di'eamed I loved before, the reality convinces me. 
Miss Clifton, years of acquaintance could never make 
me more wholly yours than I am at this moment. 
If you doubt, then let years of devotion prove it. Exile 
me, if you will, I would deem centuries of toil as little, com- 
pared to any ray of hope that you would in the end be 
mine. May I look forward to that moment, say, dearest 
Miss Clifton, shall I be allowed to hope ?" 

" Mr. la Branche, I am unsldlled in the world's arts, 
and in its deceptions. I have never, like many others, 
been able to don the habit of h^^ocrisy to suit a pm*- 
pose, and then lay it aside at T\dll, like an unpleasant 
garment. I know, however, that if a woman wishes to 
be loved, she must conceal her sentiments from the 
object of it. This may be a true philosophy, but it is 
only suited to the Stoics. I, like yourself, am a 
Southerner by birth, though a current of Northern 
blood flows in my veins, and has somewhat tempered 


the bm*ning, and lava-like tides, wliicli would otherwise 
consume me, as it does many. I, however, am not 
sufficiently philosophic (if it can be so termed), to school 
my heart to falsehood, and be it for weal or woe, I most 
unhesitatingly place my hand in yours, and say to you, 
beside the waters of this fount, in whose crystal pm'ity 
I trust is symbolised our hearts, that I love you fondly 
and devotedly, and let the world, in its cold sense of 
propriety, deem me what it mil for so readily confessing 
it ; I would not wish to know you longer, or better, if 
time or a greater knowledge could dispel the affection 1 
have for you now." 

"Generous and devoted girl," said Albert la Branche, 
throwing his arms around her, and drawing her close to 
his heart, " you shall never have cause to regret the 
confidence you have reposed in me. Yes, love and trust 
me, darling, and you will find me not unworthy ; and 
may the love which you here confessed this evening, 
joined to my own, grow deeper, stronger as time 
passes away, and may it, when your golden locks and 
my raven hair are changed to argentine threads, may it 
be still as now, each loving and beloved. Dearest in 
your love, I possess strength to a^^m me for the combat, 
and a shield, which shall be my safeguard from all evil. 
And now, beloved, let me have once more your sweet 
assurance (ere we are intruded on), that I am loved, and 
that you promise to be mine ?" 

" Yes, dearest Albert, I love thee, and thee only, now 
and eternallyy 

" May this then seal the compact which angels now 
record," he said, bending over, and kissing her fair cheek, 
" and may your assurances be as often, ay, more often 


renewed than that rainbow covenant, which reminds us 
of God's mercy to men." 

They arose from their rustic seat just as the meriy 
voice of ^Madame Bienvenu broke upon their ears, saying 
in the most bewitching tones, *' Here are the truants ! 
Come, you must give an accomit of yourselves, and tell 
us how you dared to absent yourselves from the presence 
of our noble company, thus displaying yoiu* preference 
for the solitude of the forest to the splendom'S and 
gaieties of a palace." 

" Yom' Majesty being surrounded by so many cour- 
tiers, should not envy your less fan- dame dlwnneur, the 
attendance of one of her truest, faithful, and most liege 
subjects," answered Miss Clifton, in the same u'onical 
tone; " but see," she continued, " your court approaches ; 
gay ladies and their attendant cavaliers, and Misses de 
Villerie and Montijo being alone likely to dethrone you 
by their seeming conspii'acies amongst the nobles of 
yom- realm." 

" Ma rhere," so long as the vrai nobility are loyal 
(alluding to Lord Ethelred), I shall not even fear a 
dethronement a misfortiuie, as you are aware that 
royalty seldom succeeds in pleasing the rabble. Mais 
allons, Lord Ethelred, I have many beauties in Rosale 
to point out to you." BoA^dng they passed on, and soon 
our young friends were suiTounded by the crowd, who 
now filled the conservatory, and when each and every 
one seemed delighted to rove. The band discoursed 
sweet strains, which fell upon the ear harmoniously in 
this lovely spot, and served to drown in melody the 
tones of lovers, as they breathed foi-th their love tales. 
But the brightest scenes must fade, and so, too, our 


brilliant pageant, as one by one the guests left the 
festive chambers, and bade " adieu" to their hospitable 
entertainers. There still lingered one " when lights had 
fled and garlands were dead," and he alone had not 
" departed." Reader, can you divine who it is ? Not to 
keep you longer in suspense, it was Albert la Branche, 
the accepted. When the crowd had dispersed, the lovers 
had retm-ned to the conservatory, and now he stood 
with his arm around her slender form, seemingly loth to 
part from his chosen and beautiful fiancee. But foot- 
steps are approaching, and he must leave. Dipping his 
fingers into the waters of the fountain, he said (as he 
sprmkled the water drops upon her head), " I baptise 
thee, my own dear Cornie, in a new faith, that of trust 
in the one you have chosen as your guide through hfe, 
and in that of the noble cause I have espoused, and may 
it be pm-e as these crystal drops which I sprinkle upon 
your golden curls ; and may it wash away for ever every 
Union sentiment now existing in the bosom of my lovely, 
beloved, and affianced bride, and may this parting kiss 
be the seal on these lips to close for evermore the elo- 
quent pleadings, which in a just cause might win a 
world." Thus, with a kiss, they parted, and leaving her, 
he hastened to pay his respects to the family, and then 
left a happy and a proud man. 

Miss Clifton stood still beside the fountain where he 
had left her, and truly she looked the " spirit of the 
fount, as with her eyes di'camily gazing into the waters, 
she seemed not of earth, but of a holier sphere." The 
lights were fast paling as she arose to seek her chamber, 
there to " think on the past, and di'eam o'er the future." 
We will follow her, and listen to her soliloquy. Seating 


lierself, she rested her arm upon the marble slab of a 
table near her, and clasping her hands in an attitude of 
prayer, mm-mm-ed, " Engaged ! and to one I have so 
lately know'n, but yet so dearly love. Oh, happiness 
inexpressible ! Yes, my o^\ti dear Albert, how gladly I 
would forsake all else save thee, to follow whithersoever 
thou should'st go. I said I was thine, and thme only. 
Oh, how cold, how chillmgly cold are these words to my 
burning love for thee ! How ti-uly does that minstrel 
of Erin — Moore, express my love for thee w^hen he 

" Imagine something, purer far, 

More free from stain of clay. 
Than friendship, love, or passion are, 

Yet human still as tliey. 
And if thy lips, for love like this 

Is'o mortal word can frame, 
Go ask of angels what it is, 

And call it by that name." 

" Yes, dearest Albert. Go ask of angels what it is, 
and call it by that name ! " We will now drop the 
curtain upon this scene and soliloquize ourselves. 
" Beautiful dreamer on Life's tempestuous sea, no 
clouds of sorrow appear above the horizon of your 
hopes, and no ^ands ever imffle the surface of your 
sunny sea. Beautiful mariner, keep close to shore ! 
Gentle gales ^^-ill at first arise to tempt thee farther 
into the treacherous depths. The sails which bear your 
little bark on so gallantly now will soon be fui'led, or 
lowered by the storms and billows amidst which you 
will fearlessly venture. See you not ah-eady in the 
distance the boilmg, eddying waves advancing slowly 


and threateningly ? No, you are dreaming, my ocean- 
bird ! But see you not the stormy petrel as it dances 
on the foam-crested waves ? No, tliy little shallop 
floats on merrily with no fear of breakers a-head. Dream 
on, it is meet that it should be so. Soon enough the 
veil of the future Avill be raised, and too soon, alas ! youi* 
little boat will sink beneath the whirling maelstrom of 
trouble. It is afer off, but like the Arabs of the desert, 
I am accustomed to the indications of the simoons' 
scorching blast, and just as plainly in the distance I see 
thy bark overwhelmed, and thy white arms clinging to 
tlie wreck, thy wild eyes raised to Heaven, and thy 
failing voice cr^ang as he of old, ' Save Lord, or I 
perish.' Yes, sail on, beautiful dreamer, but keep close 
to shore." 



" I stake may fame (and I had fame),— my breath— 
(The least of all, for its last hours are uigh) 
My heart— my hope— my soul — upou this cast ! 
Such as I am, I offer me to you 
And to your chiefs, accept me or reject me, 
A Prince who fain would be a citizen 
Or nothing, and who has left his throne to be so.'* 

" Poor human love ! when did its current run 
Without a rock, a fiill^ beneath the sun ? 
"When wind through daisied meads and singing bowers, 
Without a dragon lurking in the flowers ? " 

A MONTH has passed by since the events recorded in the 
last chapter, and Time in his onward march has wrought 
many changes. Nought was now heard in the streets 
of the city save the measured tread of the regular 
soldier, or the less perfect of the raw recruit or volun- 
teer. Business houses were closed, and but few gather- 
ings were observed on the pavement of our once busy 
thoroughfare, Carondelet. Revolution, together with 
no cotton going to market, has wrought tliis change, 
and the haughty merchant, princes of Carondelet, bowed 
low in reverence to its once humble - rival. Camp, which 
now with its banks, brokers' offices, insurance houses, 



publishing and printing offices, draw vast crowds to its 
once less frequented resorts. Camp was decidedly the 
street, and daily were seen thousands flocking to the 
doors'of the few, very few banks that still discounted. 
Hurrying home from the North came parties having 
property and assets in the city, in order to save their 
interest from sequestration, leaving their f:imihes in the 
North, where they have been citizens for many years. 
Pale and anxious these individuals passed one by, so 
occupied mth their schemes of outwitting the Govern- 
ment, and making transfer of property that they brushed 
past unheeding all save self. These despicable beings, 
who sucked the blood, and ground the bone and sinew of 
om: wealthy planters, as the last act could only turn 
traitor to a country that had bestowed affluence and 
position on the sons and daughters, childi'en and great 
grand children of Yankee school-masters and school- 
mistresses, as well as milliners, shopkeepers, and pork- 
dealers. Ingrates, that they were, thek horn- was fast 
approaching. Camp Street, as before remarked, was 
now the street, and this morning thousands thronged 
its broad pavements to witness the entrk of General 
D. E. Twiggs who was just retm-ned from Texas, after 
having delivered into the hands of the Cojifederates the 
United States garrison. Every door, window, and 
balcony was Imed with welcoming spectators. Soon 
the swell of music rose upon the ah: and fell upon the 
ear of the expectant multitude, telling that the 
" chieftain advanced." Now the chariots came m view 
which bdre the honourable escort, which consisted of 
the first gentlemen of the different seceded States then 
in the city. Next came the veteran hhnself in a 


splendid landau cbawn by forn* beautiful white steeds. 
Bowing and smiling to the ladies who were enthusi- 
astically wa\ang their handkerchiefs and strewing his 
way TN'ith flowers, he passed slowly on, and every now and 
then the vast assembly of people rent the air witli accla- 
mations as he " bent his eminent top to their low ranks." 
On he passed, and the vast crowd of people rolled on in 
waves also, until, arriving at his mansion, he entered 
and was lost to yiew. Kight came and still they 
sought to do liim honoiu*, and when the serenade roused 
him up at the close of his day of weaiy travel, but of 
pleasant reminiscences, his heart bounded A\dth grati- 
tude to think he was still remembered, and advancing 
into the corridor bade his domestics throw wide the 
portals and admit those who sought to do him hom- 
age, and to prepare a banquet worthy of his name. 
(The author need not dwell upon this subject, for 
others who were also mtnesses of the honours con- 
fen-ed on him, and the high appointment which was 
soon after bestowed will recognise the sentiments of the 
people, and the patriotic devotion which prompted 
them). It was far into midnight when the crowd once 
more reluctantly ^dthdrew, and the shouts of "Hurrah 
for Jeff. Davis, Gen. Twiggs, and the Southem Con- 
federacy," broke upon the still air and died away in the 
glooming. But a patriot's act had called forth these 
huzzahs, and in the soul, heart, and voice of every man, 
woman, and fair maiden, chd it echo and re-echo again 
and again. Yes, the hour had dawned for Southem 
liberty, and to her standard flocked the great and 
lowly, and one amongst the first to place his sword at 
the feet of the Southern Bellona wa-s the hero ju&t 


named ; ho had served too to an honourable old age hi 
tlie service of the United States, but when his native 
soil was threatened he, like a true son of a noble mother, 
espoused her cause and rallied to his standard his 
fliithful adherents. Sublime is the picture, " When all 
deserts thee I shall still be with thee," and such were 
liis sentiments now in the hour of his country's need. 
He was not however alone, and every day found the 
desks in the senatorial chambers at Washington deserted 
one by one, until none but the republican or Abolition 
party remained, and our hopes grew bright and strong. 
The North at this hour was losing the radiance that 
had made her appear as the light of a new universe 
and in her political, moral, and martial firmament her 
stars were beginning to pale, while in the Southern 
canopy of Heaven beamed forth new and brighter 
constellations. The storm of hatred had not as yet 
swept over the earth (true some blood had flown), but 
it was brewing, and the elements looked dark and for- 
bidding. Did it find us unprepared to meet tlie issue ? 
The end will prove. Dark clouds and rolling thunders, 
presage, ruin, but after they are passed come brighter 
days with smiling sunny skies. Dear reader, I am not 
an historian, nor do I wish to venture on historic soil. 
My work is only intended to pom'tray a few (to some 
perhaps interesting) events that will be probably lost 
sight of by more worthy "gray goose quills" than mine, 
but which are not the less true or valuable. Oh no ! I 
assure you I have a great hoiTor of the female poli- 
tician, the literary lady who affects the ]\Iadame de 
Stael, or Roland. Let her appear in what guise she 
may, wife, mother, or mauJ^ she is dangerous in ant/ 


form and sure to be the mother of mischief! So now, 
kind reader, I will transport you to other and more 
agreeable scenes. 

"We will now return to our fair heroine with whom 
we parted so unceremoniously on the night of the/e^e, 
on this bright spring morning, and find her seated in a 
gTotto, whose rocky sides are thickly covered and over- 
hung with jessamine and honeysuckle. She holds in 
her hand a book entitled " Woman's Faith," and so 
intent is she gazing on its pages that she hears not the 
footfall wliich approaches. The intruder speaks, when 
slightly starting, she arises to her feet as Count Beau- 
harnais says — 

" Miss de Yillerie will, I trust, pardon this intrusion 
on her privacy of so warm a friend as Eugene Beau- 
harnais will prove himself." 

" You are pardoned, Coimt," she answered, with a 
slight blush ; " but may I ask who gave you the clue to 
this Rosamond bower? it is not many, I assure you, 
who ever enter here — this is my sanctum sanctorum. 
Tell me, I pray you, who chrected your footsteps to this 
spot ? " 

" Most willingly," he responded. " Being told you 
had gone forth to promenade in the grounds, and not 
caring to sit in the parlour to await yom- coming, I 
thought I would stroll through the groves of this 
arcadia likewise. So, saimtering through interminable 
labyrinths of flowers, vines, and trees, I came at last 
upon this grotto which, in its appearance, reminded me 
of Calypso's, and I thought I would enter — and, behold ! 
— and lo ! a divinity ! And now. Miss de Villerie, I have 
but one word more to say, and that is, that I promise 


to act towards you with more gratitude than Ulysses or 
Telemachus, provided you are as generous towards me 
in your invitation to prolong my stay." 

She smilingly remarked, " I do not think, Count, 
that you stand in need of the consolations of either of 
those classic heroes, as you have not as yet apprised 
me of yom* misfortuneSj nor on what coast you suffered 
shipwreck — as the latter vnll only entitle you to my 

" Then, fair mortel ou deesse, I claim it, for I have long 
since been wrecked on the coral reefs, and I now throw 
myself upon your mercy, as you alone have the power 
to render me insensible to my sufferings." 

" Then, allons to the mansion, where I shall take 
pleasm-e in recei^dng you, and where mjjeune nymphes 
await your pleasure." 

" No, Miss de Villerie, let it be here, where nature 
vying with art may render me eloquent to express my 
sentiments to you. We will now lay aside trifling, and 
speak sincerely. Sit down. Miss de Villerie, I have much 
to say. I will not speak to you of love in the hackneyed 
strains that is always used, but I will tell you simply 
that I love you — have loved you fi-om the moment we 
fii'st met — and that now I desire a candid response from 

As she essayed to speak, he said — " Hear me through, 
^liss de Villerie, and then answer sincerely, and, as I 
know you to be a true woman, considerately. I came 
this morning to lay at your feet my heart and hand, as 
also to ask if the love which burns withm my own 
breast has met with a reciprocal feelmg in yours ; and 
to say that, should you not entertain feelings of love 



for me, such as would prompt you to accept my proposal 
at this moment, I would say, Miss de Villerie, that if you 
can but esteem me, and still will pemiit me to love you, 
I shall hope to win you at last. If, on the other hand, 
you love me, as I have been vain enough to hope, will 
you consent to wed now, and leave with me a country 
that is soon (I may say already) to be the theatre of a 
civil war, wliich Tvill end in the ruin of eveiy one ? Yes, 
Miss de Yillerie, I prophesy for your country a lengthy 
contest, then consent to be mine, and fly with me to 
la belle France^ where mid its scenes of splendor you are 
fitted by birth and natm-e to adorn, you will forget the 
woes of your native land, and vdih. my devoted love to 
guard and cherish you, you VsiM cease to regi-et the 
honoured, loved, but distant guardians of your child- 
hood's days. And now. Miss de Yillerie, I await your 

She had in vain essayed to speak, and now as he 
ceased she arose from her sitting posture and stood 
erect, leaning her arm upon a jutting rock, and regard- 
ing him ^dth a sad, regretful look, she said — " Count 
Beauharnais, you will confess that it is your own fault 
that you have gone thus far in making an avowal of 
feelings that I can never — no, never, reciprocate. If I 
had ever given you to understand, by word or action, 
that such feelings were knowTi or would be reciprocated, 
then, I assm-e you, it was done without any such inten- 
tions on my part. But were it other-^^se, and that I 
loved you. Count, you know little of my natm*e when 
you would make such a proposal as yom- last. Think 
you, would I leave my country when the invaders' foot- 
steps are polluting its soil, and when their assassin 


hands are raised to strike at the heart of each and every 
countryman of mme, to revel in the halls of fashion and 
nobility? Count Beauharnais, you little know me. 
Could I, suppose you, leave the graves of my Either and 
mother behmd me, and know that they were being 
trodden upon by om- nithless enemies, and I, too, 
far away ? Could I leave either the honoured, dearly- 
beloved guardians of my childliood, girlhood— ay, 
womanhood, to brave the storm alone, who had sheltered 
me from the tempests which usually beset an orphan's 
life. No, never, Count Beauharnais ! My God, my 
country, and her people first— these are termed celestial 
aifections. Love of man last, which is teiTestrial. One 
Avho is untrue to the three former, would never be true 
to the latter. So, now, my dear fi-iend, you will perceive 
that if the first of your proposal were possible, the latter 
were impossible. And now I trust that I have answered 
you as fully, as concisely, and considerately as you could 
desire, trusting that my candom' has not forfeited your 

"My esteem. Miss de Yillerie? No; nor what is 
more, my love, which you still possess, and which is but 
increased by the utterance of these noble sentiments. I 
shall not be long in your city. Miss de Yillerie, and I 
trust that I still shall be permitted the pleasure of your 
society, as, notwithstanding all you have said, I hope to 
Avin you yet. Yes, I will hope on — hope ever, for you 
will never meet with love so true as mine ; and when 
ocean's waste is between us, remember that I shall need 
but one word of recall and I shall be with you. Your 
friendship. Miss de Yillerie, I accept for the present ; 
all asphants to honours must serve an apprenticeship." 

G 2 


Saying this, he took her hand, knelt before her, and 
pressing it to his heart, impressed a burning kiss upon 
it, and then rising, said — " Come, let us home ; I have 
no desire to remain longer here." As he led her forth, 
he plucked an ivy leaf, and said — " Permit me, ^Miss do 
Villerie, to fasten this in your hair." She bent her head 
gracefully, and as he secured it T\ath her golden pins in 
her raven tresses, he continued — " I am like the ivy you 
will find — should adversity overtake you, I vdW cling 
the closer to you." He walked beside her for some 
time in silence ; at last, glancing at the book she now 
held closed in her hands, he said — " ^lay I ask of what 
subject your book treats that you were so engrossed with 
when I entered tliis morning ? " 

" I was reading and pondering on the inconsistency 
of this author, who evidently advocates abolitionism, 
and Protestantism, yet in her ^v^i tings has been culpable 
of many errors, inconsistencies, and, without malice, I 
can say, untruths, some of which I will read you. First, 
the ^^iter is evidently a rank Protestant, and can find 
nothing in the Catholic religion to censm'e, but launches 
forth into a veiy pathetic strain of moralizing, which 
she puts into the mouth of her hero, referring to N. 0., 
says, ' Here no temple-spires frown upon the gay 
votary of pleasm*e, but beneath the very shadow of the 
old cathedral, and under the mn-eproving eye of those 
who minister at her altars, I may pm'sue pleasm-e in her 
wildest revels, to her hidden and most secret retreats.' 
In this the author has displayed such malevolence of 
spirit, as well as gross aad astounding ignorance^ that, 
though controvertible in every point, the very idea of 
combatting the arguments of such a benighted indi- 


^'idual, worries me ; for though we would be wilHng to 
mstruct a child, we would hesitate to begin the task 
with one who had grown up to manhood, or woman- 
hood, with such a foundation for their guide, and with 
false views on every subject, gathered from those vnih. 
as small a share of enlightenment as themselves. So it 
is in this case. To plant the seed of a good fruit is 
pleasant enough, but to uproot the bad, is not so agree- 
able a task. But, notwithstanding, our ministers do not 
reprove us for sinning ; her hero comes to the conclu- 
sion that in our church (the Catholic) alone are found 
the 'self-sacrificing angels of earth.' Hear what she 
says. ' I know, rejoined Blanche, that few of our sex 
have won for themselves the golden opinions of the 
world, by acts of disinterested and self-denying benevo- 
lence, but there are some who, though their names are 
not blazoned upon this world's scroll of fame, will find 
that they are wiitten in the book of life for the unseen 
and blessed charities which from their hands have fallen 
like the dew upon the poor and deserted children of 
humanity. How often by the bed-side of wretched 
want, and pining poverty, are seen those Sisters of 
Charity providing for the necessitous, even to the most 
menial offices, or soothing the last hours of the sick and 
the dying, when others of our sex, blessed with the 
most ample means by the Father of us all, look with 
stolid indifference, and unconcern, upon the saddest 
picture presented by the wretchedness of our fallen 
race ! The world looks upon these, I know, as a part of 
a great orginery prepared by the Roman Catholic 
church, but such acts could spring from no sectarian 
feeling, and no more belong to that church than does 


the magnificent old Gothic architecture, the Hving, 
breathing pictures of the ^Madonna, and the crucifixion, 
or the ora ])ro 7iobis, whose mellow, rich, solemn tones 
are so deeply entranciag.' 'My dear Mademoiselle 
Blanche,' continued Miss de Villerie, ' this is just so 
much wholesale robbery on your part. AVill you tell 
me who it is that recognises the crucifix as the emblem 
of salvation, or who it is who has preserved from the 
wreck of time the * life-breathing portraits of the 
Madonna,' as also who the composer of tliis chant, whose 
solemn tones seem so deeply to entrance you ? These 
were all in existence ere your Luthers, Amsdorfs, 
or Melancthons were dreamed of, and generations ere 
then* presumptuous separation from the mother church. 
Ye have waijdered forth like the prodigal, and would 
now willingly gather to yom'selves the cruml^s which 
have fallen from our groaning board. Return, kind 
friends, like that prodigal, and we will share our 
treasures with you, even to the ' fatted calf But permit 
me to read you again another of her veri/ consistent 
speeches. After anathematising slavery and slave- 
owners, she says, in reference to some slaves who were 
emancipated, and sent north, in response to the following 
question. * How are the negroes,' said Burns, ' treated 
by their wliite neighbours ? ' 'I am sony to say,' 
replied Eaton (who, by the way, is a ^lethodist minister, 
and, as sometliing quite rare in this instance, one of 
that sect tells the ti-uth), * ^4th no little degree of dis- 
favour. Even those are loudest in their denunciations 
of slaveiy, are the least tolerant of the dark skins of 
these chikben of Africa.' And farther on, a Xortherner 
by birth expresses these sentiments. 'I regret to 


admit,' said Burns, ' that there is strange contradictions 
in the conduct of those who reside in the free States, 
upon the subject of the rights of the coloured race. 
They exclaim, \Ndtli holy horror, against the sins of 
slavery, and yet their prejudice against colour is vastly 
greater than it is at the South. And in some of the 
free States they have carried it to the extent of passing 
laws forbidding free persons of colour to reside withm 
the limits. This is the philanthropy they boast so much 
of, and this is the consistency you will ever find amongst 
them. I can truly exclaim, ' Consistency, thou art a 
jewel ! ' " 

"From the style. Miss de Villerie, in which it is 
written, I should judge the author to be a female, and 
you know a good ^nter amongst your sex is seldom 
met with, and still more rare the jewel, consistency .'' 
He said this with an arch look, and was about to speak 
again, but she stopped him with the imperative com- 
mand of, " Not one word more, Count. Not one word 
more will I listen to, after this flattering compliment 
paid our sex. Not writers indeed ! Is it not well 
kno^^Ti that the Greek poetess Corrinna took the prize 
Jive times over Pindar; and that in a later day a 
woman's pen caused one of the greatest Generals the 
world ever knew, afterwards an Emperor, viz., Napo- 
leon, to tremble and grow pale. So much did he fear 
the world-renowned De Stael that he even ordered her 
to quit his dominions. I could quote many^ but you are 
too well aware of those/«cfe to make it necessary." 

They had now reached the door of the drawing- 
room, and Judge de Breuil, advancing to meet them, 
said, as he handed Miss de Villerie a letter, " My dear 


MiRs de Villerie, I was about to go in pm-suit of you, as 
I imagined you would be pleased to peruse the letter. 
The Count and myself will excuse you while you retire 
to learn the contents." Sa^-ing this, Judge de Breuil 
di'CAv the Comit's arm within his own, and they entered 
the library, where we vdW leave them to smoke their 
Havanna cigars if they like, while we follow Miss de 
Villerie. What has caused the blood to rush in crimson 
tides to our heroine's neck and brow ? Glancmg at the 
superscription, she had clasped the letter to her wildly- 
beating heart, and "v\dth hurried steps had sought her 
chamber, and there, turning the key in the lock to pre- 
vent intinision, she kissed the seal, and there opened the 
missive. Reader, as her eye glances over the page, 
what causes her cheek to pale, and the tear-drops to 
dim those lustrous eyes ? Can you not divine it ? The 
next chapter will unfold all. 



" A change came o'er the spirit of my dream." 

Miss DE Yillerie sat for hours gazing upon the letter 
she held in her hand, while the large tears coursed 
slowly down her cheeks. 

" Can I be dreaming ? " she murmured. " Oh ! is it 
not some dreadful illusion, or is it indeed true that he 
whom I have loved so fondly can be other than he once 
seemed to me? And yet I thought him noble, and 
would have yielded up my life for his happuiess ; but 
now, when he sees my country on the eve of a revolu- 
tion, which may end in the ruin of her people, he 
ingloriously consents to wield his sword in defence of a 
Union which long since ceased to be just. Oh, Clarence, 
Clarence, recall what you have said. No, no, I can 
never, never wed the enemy of my country and her 
people." But, kuid reader, I will not hold you longer 
hi suspense, and will lay before you the letter wliich 
called forth those remarks : — 

" My beloved Natalie, 

" Long ere this reaches you, possibly the blockade of 
your Southern ports by our Government (or rather 


mine) may render a response to tliis by mail impossible. 
In the event of sucli being the case, you will please 

send yonr reply to our mutual friend E. G. A , and 

he Tsall promptly deliver it. And now, my own dear 
Natalie, I T\ill lay before you the exact position of 
affairs in regard to us both, and I know that as usual, 
with your good sense, sound judgment, and loving 
heart, you will triumph over and defeat every obstacle 
and objection that may come between yourself and the 
fulfilment of my o^ai, and I trust your ^^-ishes, and con- 
sent to be mine ^dthout fui'ther delay. The dissolution 
so long looked forward to, by some ^vith sorrow, by 
others with joy, has at last arrived, and our country 
(though we of the North still mention it as one^ we 
must inwardly confess that in feeling it can never be so 
again) is divided, and civil war now frowns upon us in 
its most fearful panoply. Natalie, my o^ti dear, be 
mine, ere rivers of blood shall flow between and separate 
us, mayhap for ever. I have espoused the cause of my 
native land, and am now clothed cap-a-pie in the armom- 
of faith, right, and justice, to go forth to quell this 
unholy rebellion. Beloved, there are none to whom 
you owe obedience. Though early ties will cling around 
your memory, and mayhaps cost you many sti-uggles, 
fling them aside, darling, and tmst in one whom you so 
fondly promised to love. Tnist in me, and give me 
that right Avhicli you long since promised, to protect 
you, and I shall feel strengthened for the contest which 
approaches. Give me but the right to claim you, Natalie, 
and I will soon be Tsdth you. Remeinber, dearest, that 
let your decision be as it may, I vn[\ never surrender my 
right to yom- hand, and though you disclaim me for 



ever (for I have presumed from your letters that your 
heart is with the cause of the South, and I have feared 
that possibly your love has changed for one whose 
politics differed from yours, and that I have forfeited 
your love, your undivided love, which I once felt was 
mine), I will never, no, never resign you. One word, 
dearest, will bring me to you; less may separate us for 
all eternity. Be it in this world, or in the next, you 
can never be other than mine. Fly with me, my 
Natahe, from a land that will soon be deluged in blood, 
and its now verdant and cultivated fields and gardens 
be laid waste and desolate. Yes, fly with me to a clime 
where there are those who await to shower all the 
blessings of peace, love, aflfection, and heart-worship 
upon you. I await your decision, my truly, dearly 

beloved fiancee. 

" Clarence Belden." 

"This, then, oh Clarence, is the alternative— you 
leave me ! I cannot give thee up. Oh, why dost thou 
play the tyrant m this trying hourl But I must yield 
one or the other, and though it sever my very heart- 
strings, I will resign him for aye. Yes, now while 
love, pride, and honour struggle for the mastery, I will 
wite my last (0 God ! that it should be so) to one 
whom it is the sacrifice of all my earthly happiness to 
resign, but whom it were now dishonour to love." 
Sounding a bell, she said to Victorine, who answered 
the summons, " My escretoire, and let none enter my 
apartments, and say to all calls for me to day, 'Not at 

home.' " 

" Oui, Mademoiselle, but the gentleman below. 


Count Beauharnais, just desired me to say to you that 
lie wislied to say adieu en personnel 

" Say to him that I am indisposed, but will be pleased 
to see him on his next visit to Rosale, which I hope will 
be soon." 

The maid disappeared, and in a few moments re- 
turned, bearing the escretoire, as also a large crimson 
poppy, which she presented to her mistress, saying, 
" Count Beauharnais desned me to present to you this 
flower, which he said he himself had culled on the 
parterre^ and the card attached." Taking up the card, 
she glanced at it, and seeing the word " Consolation," 
remarked, " Nothing could indeed be more appropriate. I 
do indeed need consolation, but there is none save One 
who can afford it me. Noble-hearted as you are, Count 
Beauharnais, I could never love you, though perhaps on 
the altar of a less true idol my heart's best gifts have 
been offered up, and now the idol has proved but com- 
mon clay, and those God-like attributes where are they ? 
Ay, echo answers, 'Where are they?'" Seizing her 
pen, she wi-ote the following reply : — 

" Rosale Plantation, Louisiana. 
" To Clarence Belden, Esq., 

" As you yom'self have adopted the means of eternal 
separation, you will not nor can you be surprised at the 
manner in which I herein addi'ess you. The step you 
have taken -^^oll for ever efface from my heart, ay, even 
memory, all reminiscences of the past, and though I 
loved you vdih. tenfold the strength of my natinre, I 
would sever with my own hand the last heart-string 
that bound me by even one thought to the enemy of 



my country, my home, and iireside. I need not tell you 
now of my trust in you, and how I had fondly miagined 
that you would be among the first to resign in the 
service of a Government which equals in its oppression 
of the South only England's tyranny over Ireland, and 
Russia over Poland. I need not say to you how I had 
trusted in yom' bravery and chivalry, and, lastly, I need 
•not say (for you must know it) that by your last act 
you proved to me that my idol was only formed from 
common dust or gilded loam, and the last stroke of your 
pen transferred my heau ideal into all and everything 
but that which is noble, elevated, and sincere, and how, 
when Qarence Belden donned his sword and buckler 
and armed liimself cap-a-pie for the contest, that the 
first thrust of the ghstening steel entered Natahe 
de Villerie's heart. Oh, no ! this were all unnecessary. 
It may be some consolation to you to feel that when 
the ^deluge of blood,' of which you speak with such 
unconcern, shall have inundated om- country, and om- 
' verdant fields are laid waste ' that its sanguine floods 
will sweep over the graves of every man, woman, or 
child of our own sunny land, and that when the avarice 
of our Northern foes shall di'ain these fields which you 
say are to be laid waste, and with the natural con- 
sequence of a sanguinary deluge to be submerged in 
blood ; when they shall drain them I repeat, to plant, 
and in time to reap then- ill-gotten harvests, they will 
find, perhaps, the dragon's teeth which they sowed with 
such dihgence as the fruits of thefr labour. Yes, the 
blockade vdW soon be estabHshed at all our Southern 
ports, which is intended to starve us into submission, but 
rest assured we have not been idle. Our mountains, 


lakes, hills, valleys, and rivers contain within their bosom 
an ample supply for the wants of om* people, and even 
should it last so long as to exhaust these resources, 
we of the South have faith enough in the right of our 
cause to believe that He who suffered not the Israelites, 
his chosen people, to perish, vnll send to us that 
which was vouchsafed to them — the manna. Rest 
assured we are prepared for all emergencies, and even 
our women, in devotion to their country's cause, will 
stand unparralleled in history. Each and every South- 
ern woman's cry is ' Give us but a crust of bread 
and a cup of water from the running brook, but give^ 
oh, give us liberty.' The truth of what the poet has 
said in the following lines is but well exemplified in the 
unanimity of the sentiment which pervades all ranks 
and condition of my sex ; — 

* The love that bids the patriot rise to guard his country's rest, 
With deeper mightier fulness thrills in woman's gentle breast.' 

*' Yes, like the Spartan mothers of old, our women 
say to their husbands, sons, fathers, and lovers, ' Come 
with yom* shield, or on it.' What would under other 
cii'cum stances have been death for me to do, under the 
present I do without one pang of regret, not even one 
lingering thought of the past. After this letter shall 
have received its addi-ess from my pen and be des- 
patched to you, the waters of oblivion will roll over 
every souvenir of the past, and efface even your name 
from a heart where once I had thought it as deeply 
Avritten as Queen Mary said of Calais, it would be 
engraven on my heart. And now farewell. Let no 
thought of me when you go forth in your armour of 


' Truth, Right, and Justice ' add weakness to your 
arm ; be assured you will find your equal in every man 
and a foeman worthy of yom- steel in the humblest 
Southerner. Then defend yourself, at least what you 
do do icell and bravely. Believe me in all smcerity mi- 
changing in my resolution, 

" Natalie de Villerie." 

The struggle was now over when ]\Iiss de Villerie 
laid down her pen ; she was calm, but it was the calm- 
ness of a martyr who lays down his life for his faith, 
but whose ^esA only writhes on the rack of torture, the 
soul bemg elevated far above the ephemeral joys of 
this world. Her nature was one that loved deeply and 
with all the intensity of those who can love but once. 
To Clarence Belden the first pure gushing love of her 
youth and womanhood was given, and now that he had 
failed to be all that she had deemed him she had no 
further faith in men. Alas, how sad it is to think how 
mere gilding can seem so like genuine gold ! Rising from 
her seat Miss de Villerie paced the apartment slowly and 
thoughtfully, murmuring sadly, " Yes, I have given thee 
up Clarence Belden, but like Marino Falerio who con- 
demned his son to banishment, the sentence I have 
pronounced will kill me. Oh! how false the words 
' without one pang of regret,' and yet they are true, 
for it is not one pang^ but ten thousand^ and my poor 
heart is breaking 'neath its weight of pride and honour. 
Did not the rich blood of an ancient honoured Hne pour 
its strong tides through my veins, I would fly to thee 
and thy promised love ; but never ! rather let this heart 
of mine suffer until it cease to beat than dishonour the 


ancient house from whence I have sprung hj an alHance 
with the foe of home, friends, and country. !My father, 
dost thou watch over thy child fi'om thy far off home in 
heaven? If so strengthen me in this bitter hour. 
Must I say farewell to him I love (yes, oh God, more 
than words can tell) for ever? ^lust all the pleasant 
happy days be effaced from memory by the waves of 
that river Lethe which to some afford joy, to others grief. 
Away ye phantoms of evil which surround me with your 
flapping wings, and who seek to destroy my peace for 
all eternity. Away, I say, to the dark shades from 
whence ye sprang." Thro^\dng herself upon a couch, 
she fell asleep, vrith. her dark hair falling around her she 
slept a fevered sleep. Madame de Breuil entering, and 
seeing her thus, gently drew the letter from her hand, 
which she held close pressed to her heart. She then 
summoned Yictomie, and ordered her to bring ice-water 
and lavender. She gently bathed the brow, temples, 
and neck of the unhappy girl, and bending over her 
with all a mother's tenderness kissed her fevered cheeks, 
while a hot tear stole down her own and dropped upon 
the burning cheek of !Miss de Yillerie, who starting 
from her uneasy slumber, and seeing Madame de Breuil 
raised her head from the pillow and said wildly, " Yes, 
yes, he is gone for ever, and past recall, and like Mary 
Queen of Scots I have signed an abdication to all happi- 
ness. Oh God ! why have I loved so fondly ?" Bur^^mg 
her face in the lap of Madame de Breuil, who understood 
all, she wept convulsively, and tried to speak. At last, 
obtaining the mastery over herself, she said, "All 
was as I feared, Clarence Belden has espoused the 
Northern cause, and thus has sealed my fate and 


his owTL ! You thouglit I slept when you entered. 
Oh no ! It was only a delicious dream of that long- 
ago, dreams of that sad but still happy time — when 
the few shadows that fell around my path in life 
was like the green spots m the desert where the 
traveller halts to rest awhile, and feels the cool refresh- 
ing influence of repose. Oh, I saw him as when I had 
first met him, in the moment when he first taught my 
young heart the delight, the ecstacy of loving and being 
loved ; and when he had breathed into my spirit bright 
and sunny hopes as well as celestial aspirations — making 
the world, this life itself, a Heaven of bliss and unalloyed 
felicity ! Oh, as I dreamed, there stole over my senses 
that perfect sense of repose which children of earth rarely 
feel, and to which I doubt the famed cup of Haskesch 
could add one drop to. This sensation thrilled my whole 
being, and I felt borne upon the wings of angels far past 
earth and clouds, ay, further, and yet further still into 
the realm of eternal light. Then such strains of music 
burst upon my ear, that it seemed as though the melody 
was produced by the rushing of angels' pinions, as they 
swept past each other in then- worship before the throne 
of the Eternal. But slowly died away the mellifluous 
cadences — and slowly, one by one. Heaven, its angels — 
briglit wings and golden throne — fled from my view, and 
earth again appeared to me as I slowly passed through 
aether descending. When, lo! as I approached nearer, 
there stood an angel on a beautiful green knoll, who beck- 
oned me towards him. Unconsciously I was borne to the 
spot; and seating myself at the feet of the angel 
(methought his wings o'er-shadowed the whole hill and 
valley in front of me), I glanced beneath at the base, 



beyond the valley, there rolled a river of blood, and 
beyond it nought save desolation ; wliile on the side on 
which I sat wdtli the angel, smiled verdant plains, clear 
and sparkling streams, with charming cottages beside 
sylvan lakes, and at my feet grazed flocks and herds, 
and all seemed busy, active life. On this sanguine river 
floated a gilded steamer, out of whose pipes flew birds 
instead of smoke. To the opposite side there flew the 
\Tiltm'e, raven, crow, and petrel, and the side on which 
I sat with the angel, flew over the dove and gay 
plumaged songsters, until all the vale rang ^vith. their 

After I had beheld the sight, the angel plumed 
his wings for flight, and saying, "Thou hast chosen 
well," vanished into the tliin grey air ; and thus, me- 
thought, there fell upon my face a holy dew, which 
dropped from his wings as he ascended; but alas ! dear, 
dear friend, I awoke to find it but a dream, but yet you 
have endeavoured to make up for the dew of Heaven by 
the refr'eshing dew of friendship, which yom* kind hands 
were administering when I awoke. Would thou were a 
Joseph to intei-pret my dream or vision. Oh! why is it, 
that it should be thus; that he, whom of all others I 
idolized, should now prove unworthy, but still dear, 
ever dear to me. Why, oh! why, did I rely so implicitly 
in him ? I, whom the world has teiTaed cold, and even 
austere, am stricken like a fi-agile blossom by the fii'st 
gale on life's shores. Oh, my country, my people, 
though I love you much, this sacrifice, for me, is greater 
than Jephtha. Yes, for he promised to ofier the first he 
should meet; but alas, I have offered myself upon the 
altar of patriotism. Oh, my God ! accept this heart — 


this life-offering, as a willing, but, oh, it is a bitter 
holocaust. Slowly she sank upon her couch, and with 
her white hands crossed upon her breast, she once more 
sank to repose. 

She had asked for his letter, and it now rested on 
her heart. One large tear trembled on her eyelid, 
com'sing its way down her fevered cheek, fell upon her 
bosom, and rested lilie a diamond on polished marble. 
She slept calmly, peaceful^, and when mornuig dawned 
it found her serene as a spring day. 

No one could have told how hard the struggle had 
been who saw her as she greeted Judge de Breuil, as he 
entered the breakfast apartment on the morning after 
her reception of Clarence Belden's letter. No, not the 
keenest observer could trace, in the smiling face, and 
proud manner, a single mark of giief or self-sacrifice. 
Little do the smiling valleys, green and fertile sides of 
the volcano, with here and there a hamlet at its base, 
bespeak the convulsion which oftens rocks the earth to 
its centre, and devastates the land. So with Miss de 
Villerie, the convulsion had passed, and the lava which 
flowed from the fire of love out of the crater of passion, 
had now cooled, and she appeared like the exterior of 
the volcano, smiling and unconscious of the still slumber- 
ing sparks within. Breakfast was eaten in silence, and 
though not a word was spoken on the subject to Judge 
de Breuil, he had guessed all. As they arose from table, 
he said to Miss de Villerie, " at yom* leisure I would see 
you in the library." 

" Then let it be now, dear guardian, as my leisure is 
ever at your pleasm-e." 

On entering the library. Judge de Breuil seated Miss 

H 2 


de Yillerie iii a chair, and dra^^^llg one beside it, seated 
himself, and thus began : — 

" ]\Iy dear ward, I would speak to you this morning, 
not as your g-uardian, but as your father, which part I 
have acted, to the best of my ability, since the demise of 
my highly esteemed and much valued fiiend, your father. 
I shall ask of you no recital of what I have already my 
suspicions, though none but the anxiety of one who loves 
you with parental devotion could have discovered it. I 
would not lacerate your heart by requesting any particu- 
lars of a subject which, as a woman, you would feel a 
(leHcacy in discussing, even with me; l)ut thus much I 
would say, my beloved ward, that, if Clarence Belden 
has possessed your heart until this moment, permit him 
to retain it, and do not blast yom-hopes of earthly happi- 
ness by resigning him. No, let no such love of patriotism 
destroy yom- felicity. You are now of age, and yom- o^\ti 
mistress, still though we (my sister and self) would 
regret to see the moment in which you parted from us 
amve, yet if you can be happier with him who has won 
yom' heart's worship than with us, we both would resign 
you to love and joy, though it must be confessed we 
would feel a pang in yielding you to one whom I leani 
is now our declared enemy, and thus placing a banier 
between the intercom-se of love and friendship, which, if 
your lot had been cast amongst us would exist. Never- 
theless, by follo^^dng the dictates of heart and conscience, 
you will never forfeit the love of those whom long years 
of acquaintance have endeared you to; rest assm*ed dear 
Natahe, that because you should give us up for a newer, 
but less tried love, we should not love you the less, or 


would the name of Mrs. C. Belden should ever be less 
esteemed, nay worshipped, in our hearts and homes than 
that of NataHe de Villerie. Yom- property which the laws 
of the Confederacy, under such circumstances, would 
not yield to you, I have taken the precaution to save, 
and secure to you, and to the amount your father left 
you, I will add fifty thousand dollars, as your marriage 
portion; thus you perceive, I have shielded you from all 
the obstacles which generally make the road to true love 
so unsmooth ; and now, my dearly-loved NataHe, choose 
as you will, and rest assured if it be the ' better part' it 
shall not be taken from thee." 

Miss de Villerie had sat mth her face averted dm-ing 
this conversation, and now she knelt before him, from 
which position he in vain endeavoured to raise her, as, 
sinking low at his feet, she rested her head upon his 
knees, and clasped his hands close within her own, in vain 
she essayed to speak, when a torrent of tears coming 
to her relief, she said, " Oh, my guardian, my own dear 
father, how coidd you speak thus ? Leave you, oh no, 
never. Leave you to go to the love and home of one 
who is now and for evermore your enemy, and that of 
all that is true to me. Oh, my own kind, my own 
dearly-beloved guardian, how could you deem me such 
an ingrate. Yes, Clarence Belden, I have loved deeply, 
fondly, ay, almost madly, but it is passed now. The 
power he held was a tyrant's, and now I am free. Yes, 
free, but like a bird in the serpent's power, my heart 
yet clings to reminiscences of the soon to be for ever 
buried past, and sighs for the love-illumined paths 
through which I once roamed when under his fond eye. 
But think you, oh think you, I would accept bliss at 


such a price ? No ; to happiness I have breathed a 
long, a sad adieu, and on the shrine of God and my 
countiy I have laid my bleeding, but trembling, lace- 
rated heart. Yes, dear, dear guardian, I have cast the 
die, and crossed the Rubicon, and am now passing on to 
victory, sadly, but gloriously. No more shall love's 
spells weave their thralls around me ; never again shall 
my bosom inhale the consuming air of passion, save love 
for tried and faithful friends, such as you, my dear 
father, by your care have proved to me. Yes, dear 
guardian, I shall choose the better part., and where my 
girlhood days have passed in bhssful repose, here will 
Natalie remain, and when once more tranquilhty of mind 
asserts its sway, you shall see no tears bedewing these 
now dimmed eyes, but you shall see me the happy, gay, 
almost thoughtless, being I was when first your kind 
hands, and those of your sister, commenced the training 
of this crooked vine. Yes, yom- home shall not be sad- 
dened by any sorrows of mine. Yes, oh yes, these bitter, 
bitter tears in wliich my eyes now swim, shall cease to 
flow, and I shall never look beyond the threshold of home 
again for love and happiness, save for above to that 
One whose love shall never change, and in whose 
guidance I shall ever trust tlirough life. Yes, my 
guardian, with thee have I Hved, TN-ith thee will I die. 
The stomis that may ruffle the waves of thy existence 
shall break over mine also, and the billows which may 
engulf thee shall also roll over me. The friends who 
are thine shall be mine also ; the stars which beam o'er 
thy pathway shall shine on mine ; the breeze which fans 
thy cheek shall sweep o'er mine; the flowers which 
waft theii' fragrance to you on the summer air will bear 


my prayers for you as incense to the throne of God ; 
and, lastly, that God who shall be thine shall be mine, 
and the grave that closes over you shall also clasp me 
in its cold embrace. And now tell me, oh tell me, have 
I chosen well, my father, or do you doubt that I love 
you, and all the bright joys of a life which was spent 
with thee, and which shall continue ? Clarence Belden 
was all to me once, but now the spell is broken, and 
here alone in my cliildhood's home will I seek love such 
as ^vill survive the ephemeral joys of earth. Keep the 
dowry wliich you so generously offer to bestow, or lay 
it as an offering on om- country's altar, and take all 
else, but leave me, oh leave me, your love, which is far 
more preferable than gold can ever be." Arising, she 
caught his hand, pressed it to her heart, and imprinting 
a kiss upon it, turned to leave, when gently arresting 
the movement, he drew her to his bosom, saying, " My 
daughter, you have indeed chosen well and nobly, and 
may you find in the affection of those around you com- 
pensation for the love you have so heroically resiglLGd. 
You have icon the victory oxer self^ and proved yourself by 
far a greater general than those who have won their 
lam-els upon a gory field. Your father, who, perhaps, at 
this moment is witnessing yom- noble self-sacrifice, 
smiles a benison on thee from his far off heavenly home. 
Time, the great assuager of grief, will dry those tears, 
and you will again love as truly and ardently as you 
have loved yom- misguided Clarence." 

"Never, oh never, my guardian. I have — I have 
loved Clarence, and though on earth the irrevocable will 
of Fate is such that we have been separated, I shall at 
last be his in that land to which we are all hastening, 


where no cold terrestrial ideas enter ; and though I 
renounce him for ever here, yet beyond, far beyond, 
' the foes that threaten, and the friends that weep,' we 
shall be one. Though, like the flowers, my love cHcs 
for awhile, it shall bloom again in the clime where 
spring is eternal. Though the world may deem me 
stern and cold, and though Clarence should think me 
false-hearted, I reck but little, we shall at last meet to 
part no more. Then speak not of other love for me. 
No, never shall other love come between mine and 
thine, my dearly-beloved Clarence. My country now, 
my Heaven hereafter." 

"Then be it so, my child; and may no clouds darken 
the vision of the celestial joy which you have so beau- 
tifully pictured, but may every gale waft you nearer 
that port m which your hopes are centered, and may all 
your aspirations of unalloyed bliss be fulfilled; and now 
diy those tears and come with me for a dnve to the city " 

" If it were to any other I should plead an excuse, 
but TO you, my beloved guardian, whose vdM is law, I 
shall say I go with pleasure." 

Leaving the room, she hastened to her apartment, 
and soon after Judge de Breuil, who stood on the 
verandah, whip in hand, awaiting her, handed her into 
the phaeton, and they were soon seen dashing up the 
coast. The morning breeze, as it was bonie from the 
Gulf, fanned our heroine's still flushed cheeks, but soon 
they paled, and returned to their usual healthy, but 
peach-like, tinge. They di'ove briskly, and though ^liss 
de Yillerie was far from happy, you would say she was 
perfectly so, could you have seen how entirely she seemed 
to forget self, as she gaily talked with her guardian. 


" I received this morning," said Judge de Breiiil, " a 
card from Comit Beauharnais, who leaves to-morrow for 
Europe, and wishes to know if a visit from him this 
evening would be agreeable; I, therefore, thought we 
would take him home with us ; what say you ? " 

" I shall be pleased indeed to say farewell en personne^ 
and regret exceedingly the loss to our circle of friends, 
to which Count Beauharnais has been such an acquisi- 
tion. He combines m himself the true gentleman and 
the man of the world, and forms a rare exception to the 
latter class in retaining purity of heart and mind, though 
in constant intercourse with the world's most varied 
scenes. Though wealthy and noble, he is unassuming, 
and humble — he is a true descendant of his illustrious 
house, though he is quite as modest, if not much more 
than one of our republican-born Creoles." 

"He certainly possesses a fine eulogist in my fair 
ward, and, I fear, if he were heretofore not proud, and 
heard your eulogism, he could no longer buast humility 
as one of his characteristics." 

" Well, I assure you, I admire Count Beauharnais, 
and seek not to disguise my sentiments, and must 
candidly confess that if my heart had not been smitten 
ere I met the Count, it would most undoubtedly 
have smTcndered itself to him. There are none even 
among my oldest acquaintances who claims a higher 
place in my regard and esteem than does Count Beau- 

"A countess's tiara would well become mj ward, 
and I shall be delighted to see one sparkle upon her 
brow. What sayeth Natalie ? " 

"'Tis not in glittermg gems that truth, love, and 


nobleness are found; oh, no, my dear guardian! nor 
would Count Beauhamais stand less in my estimation 
dispossessed of rank, wealth, and coronet. No, place a 
man like him in a iTide hut, amid the '\;\ilds ol om* own 
native forests, and he would be distinguished from the 
common herd by soul'' 

They had now reached the suburbs of the city, and 
the morning sun gilded spu'es and domes, and its 
radiance fell alike on the elegant mansions of the rich 
and the less pretentious abodes of the poor. ]\Iarket 
carts were returning from the city, and their owners 
were chatting gaily as they cbove to theu* humble 
homes, while the light bark of the fisherman glided over 
the waves, as, with sails unfui'led, he swept down the 
stream to his home on the gTdf coast. Singing gaily, 
these rude children of natm-e passed on their way, and 
om' heroine contrasted her happiness, her hopes with 
these, as thus she jiiused in silence. " Ah, were it not 
well for us if the gilded visions of joy, bliss, and content- 
ment which our vain imag-inations picture forth, should 
iq?iis fatuus like evade us as we pm-sue ; and that we 
might descend to the tomb still trusting that the far-off 
moiTow would realise the hopes of to-day. Their antici- 
pation of each honour and aspiration are as gTcat, 
according to their sphere, as mme ; but how far short 
when we have tasted the cup of reality, from that of the 
sparkling fount of imagination. There is the same 
difference as that between the appearance of the ocean 
which, to the observer, is deep blue, but when put into 
a glass, proves that only to the eye it appears thus." 
They rode on in silence, occupied solely in tliinldng and 
gazing at the different sights which now crowded on 


their view. All was busy animated life, the Rue Royal 
was crowded \\dth persons of every age and sex, and 
Canal-street's broad pavement thronged with the beauty 
of this gay city, while the drum and fife of the W. A. 
were playing a martial air, to the time of wliicli the 
young volunteers stepped. Dashing officers rode by on 
prancing chargers, and all was as a holiday. Our 
heroine bowed low as she passed down the Rue Rampart 
to a couple who were promenading, and whom she 
recognised as Lord Ethelred and Madame Bienvenu, 
the sprightly lady returned it, and passed on, seemingly 
engaged in a deep political discussion which, doubtless, 
had more to do with Scotland's being the most agreeable 
place in the world for one to reside, than the States of 
America at this period, and of wliich he might doubtless 
convince his fair companion, who it seems he had almost 
won to his opinion and politics, and who bade fair to be 
Lady Ethelred. Our heroine had now arrived at the 

residence of Colonel G , and, ringmg the bell. Judge 

de Breuil left her at her friends' to spend the morning, 
while he returned to town to meet his gentlemen 
acquaintances. ]\Iiss de Villerie was ushered into the 
parlor, and was very soon in the warm embraces of her 
fi-iends, of whom there were many. 

" Oh ! my dear ]\liss de Yillerie, you cannot imagine 

the happiness it affords me," said Madame D , "to 

receive you once more in my home, you have scarcely 
afforded your friends a view of you since spring, and I 
have understood that your kind friend, Madame de 
Breuil, could not even prevail on you to come from yom- 
recluse's cell. I trust, my dear it does not originate 
from the same cause that permitted a certain disease to 


prey like a worm iu the bud on a certain young lady's 
cheeks ? " 

" I assure you I have not denied myself the pleasure 
of my friends' society for any such reason as your 
remark might suggest, but in spring-time my custom is 
to seek the society of more inanimate natures than the 
human kind. I spend a great deal of time enjojHng the 
unfolding of the buds, and witli my botany in hand I 
spend hours in wandering among these gentle harbin- 
gers of spring, thus I feel more pleasure in receiving my 
friends' visits than in returning them, as I know you will 
agree T\dth me in saying that it is much more pleasant 
to be the dispenser of hospitalities than the recipient." 

"I quite agree with you in its being a great pleasure 
to dispense them, but I assure you I find an equal 
pleasure in the reception, and trust on being convinced 
of the latter. My dear Miss de Yillerie, you vn\\ make 
your visits much more frequent, and thus aiford me an 
opportunity to dispense the honours of hostess much 
oftener. And now I intend to engage your fair hands 
in our service for some weeks to come, and I know if 
your love for your friends does not draw you from 
seclusion your well-known patiiotism will. We are 
engaged in making up clothes, uniforms, for the volun- 
teer companies, and have formed societies to this pur- 
pose, of which my friends have appointed me president, 
Miss Bienvenu as vice-president, and yom-self, sans 
voire permission^ secretary, knoTsdng that you were 
anxious to fru'ther the cause, et mnintenant. AVhat 
say you ? " 

" That I accept with pleasure. And now tell me, if 
you please, when begin my duties ? " 


" We shall hold our first meetings in the parlour of 
the ' St. Charles,' until we arrange a suitable place for 
assembling to sew. Madame Bienvenu was here this 
morning, and said that it would be nmch better for us 
to meet alternately at the houses of those who are dis- 
posed to join us, and appoint, and obtain some place or 
room where those persons who are employed and paid 
to sew for the soldiers can work. The companies are 
rapidly forming throughout the State, and it is only 
just that we should do all we can to aid the glorious 
cause of independence. ' Miss Clarendon, montrez 
Mademoiselle, the bannerets which you have made.' " 

That young lady arose and brought forth the ban- 
nerets of silk, which w^cre made for the regiments, and, 
as she presented them to Miss de Yillerie, said, " To 
you we have left the design for the grand banner wliich 
we propose presenting to the regiment next week, 
wdio leave on the 15th ; and I was requested in the 
name of the ladies of our mutual acquaintance to beg 
that you would also consent to present it." 

" I thank you, and my friends, for their generous 
partiality m selecting me for so distinguished an honour 
among so many entitled to that distinction, and wil] most 
w^illingly accept, if but to manifest tliat I shall not only 
thus prove my loyalty to our cause, but the gratitude I 
owe them for their kind preference. So trusting to 
meet you again soon, I beg leave ladies to msh you 
good morning, as Judge de Breuil awaits me without." 
Taldng an affectionate leave of her hostess our heroine 
was soon on her way home. 



Is it for this the Spanish maid, aroused, 

Hangs on the willow her unstrung guitar, 

And, all uusex'd, the anlace has espoused, 

Sung the loud song, and dared the deed of war ? 

And she, whom once the semblance of a scar 

Appalled, an owlet's 'larum chill'd with dread, 

Now views the column — scattering bay'net jar, 

The falchion flash, and o'er the yet warm dead 

Stalks with Minerva's step where Mars might quake to tread. 

" Yet others rapt, in pleasure seem, 
And taste of all that I forsake ; 
Oh ! may they still of transport dream, 
And ne'er at least like me awake !" 

" One should our interests and our passions be 
My friend must hate the man that injures me." 

" Who dares think one thing, and another tell, 
My heart detests him as the gates of hell !" 

The immense concourse of ladies wliicli filled the 
saloons of the " St. Charles " on the morning of the 

testified the sentiments which prevailed, and 

unanimity of heart-felt interest in the noble cause, 
they each and every one espoused. The moming too 
seemed to smile on the efibrts of these patriotic women, 
who left their homes and childi-en to look after the 
comfort of their noble volunteers. On foot and in 


carriages came the daughters of the South, all and every 
one but too anxious to be first to place then- name 
amongst those most willing to serve their country, but 
it would be a difficult problem to solve, as at one and 
the same moment ari'ived, the pedestrian and the more 
opulent, who rolled to the doors in their carriages. The 

meeting Avas soon called to order by Madame , and 

after some two hours, the regulations bemg formed and 
the places of meeting being decided upon, the assembly 
adjourned, sine die^ but not until they had appointed a 
place of rendezvous for those in the paid employ of the 

A spacious room at the corner of Canal and Camp 
Streets was the place decided upon for the seamstresses 

of the committee, and Madame L w^as aj)pointed to 

the charge of this department, while Mesdames Gardame 
and Millendon were authorized to receive all donations 

for the society. Mesdames L , F , T , R , 

were chosen to present subscription hsts, and to Misses 
de Villerie and Clarendon were given the charge of the 
flag department, with the request of the committee that 
Miss de YiUerie should design the same. The forethought 
of the ladies seemed to embrace everythhig which might 
contribute to the wants of a soldier, and to the comfort 
of a camp life. One was appointed to receive lint 
bandages, and jelKes, for the wants of the sick soldiers, 
while others were to receive shirts, drawers, and socks, 
for the comfort of those who were well. 

As the President of the Committee parted from 
Miss de Villerie, she said, " I trust you will have yom- 
drapeau in reachness for the sabbath, as we ^dsh you to 
present it to the battalion." 


" I shall not fail to do so," said Miss de Villerie, " as 
the fair hands of Misses Clilton and Clarendon, as also 
Madame Bienvenu have volunteered to assist me in 
the work of love." 

" Certainement,'' these ladies responded, while Madame 
Bienvenu continued, " I assure you it will be a pleasure 
to set the stitches in a flag which shall wave trium- 
phant over om- foe, and it will be more agreeable still 
to think that as many foes as there are stitches shall 
fall on the spot over which it shall ever wave victorious." 

"Ah, ma chhe amie^ you seem to be sanguinary, but 
I am happy to thmk though you wish our enemies amii- 
Iiilated, that you do not display that blood-thii'sty 
feeling after all which has immortalized the Chicago 
young lady, who, it is well knoT^m, said ' that if the 
South did secede, and war ensued, she would have 
what she most of all thmgs wished as an ornament, 
viz., a necklace of the eyeballs of Southern men,' which 
her beau^ or lover, has promised to bring her." 

" Mon Dieu! what fiendish cruelty. I tliink a woman 
Avho could give birth to such an idea worthy of the most 
cruel death that could be inflicted, and after death to 
undergo eternal pmiishment," said Madame Bienvenu. 
*' Oh, no," she went on, " though I trust om' foes may be 
defeated, and suJBfer for their wrongs and insults, yet such 
punishment, or the idea of it, could not origiaate in the 
mmd of either a woman or man, but only a fiend incarnate ; 
and all I have to say for this young lady is that if she had 
existed in the time of om- Sasaour, he might have been 
called upon to dispossess her of a fiend, as none but one 
possessed could ever dream of such a thing ; or had she 
lived at that time she would possibly have whispered 


something into the ear of Ilcrod ^vliich would have sug- 
gested a more agonising death, if, indeed, there could be 
one more terrible, for om* Saviour. Yes, I will pay her 
the compliment that in cruelty she sm-passes the most 
refined ideas of the Jews or Romans." 

"I agree with you," said Miss de Villerie. "No 
teaman can ever entertain such feehngs. Woman's 
heart has but two feelings which are natural, namely, 
love and pity. Revenge is not part of a true woman's 
nature, and hatred has no part in her breast. When 
her foe lies bleeding, her resentment is gone, be the 
wound literal or allegorical, and she flies to render all 
the assistance in her power, and to pom- into his gaping 
wounds the balm of Gilead. Such is woman, the minis^ 
termg angel in adversity, the sage comisellor in pros- 
perity. But, come, let us go ; time flies, and we forget 
our bamier is to wave on Tuesday next over the heads 
of our brave battalion." 

The ladies were soon in theii' carriages and on their 
way to Resale, where they had soon arrived, and 
were busying themselves cutting and se^^ing long strips 
of red and white, and embroidering white stars upon 
the blue ground. 

"i¥a c/iere Natahe," said Miss Clifton, looking up 
from her embroidery, "I am told the Count has left us 
for his native shore. How could you let him leave, 
when you might have retained him ?" 

"Yes, Count Beauharnais has left us, and it would 
have afforded me pleasm-e to have had him remain ; but 
I do not hnagine that I could have influenced his 

" Ah, ma chere Natalie, soijez sincere, you cannot deny 



but what you held liiiu entliralled, and that it must 
have been a strong power that dispelled his hopes. 
There are not many who would be willing to let a 
coronet slip so easily from their grasp. Do you know," 
she remarked in a low tone, "that report says you 
rejected Clarence Belden to marry Count Beauliamais." 

As she said this she glanced up, and became silent, 
when she saw the agonized expression of ^liss de Yil- 
lerie, who first crimsoned, and then paled, but sustaining 
her coiu'age she left the room in a few minutes, but 
was quickly followed by Miss Clifton, who said, tlii'ow- 
ing her arms around the convulsed form of ^liss de 
Yillerie, " Forgive, oh forgive me, Natalie ; indeed, in- 
deed, I did not intend to wound you. You know I did 
not," she weepingly cried. " Oh, how could I have been 
so thoughtless ! Tell me, oh tell me you forgive me, 
my own dear fi-iend, whom for w^orlds I would not 
v\'ound in thought, word, or deed." 

" ;My darling Cornie, forgive ? you were forgiven 
ere you asked. What is there to forgive? Nought 
can come between thee and me, my darlmg, but pardon 
me if I caused you one moment's anxiety by an emo- 
tion that I camiot resist. But,* oh ! Coitqc, never 
until this moment have I breathed to other than my 
cherished guardian one word of that which has sepa- 
rated us for ever. I , Clarence, and myself Yes, 

Cornie, it was as you predicted, Clarence espoused the 
cause of his native State, and thus we are sundered 
from each other, as far apart as the North and South 
pole. But, oh, Cornie, if it should be as you say, 
that the world ^\dth its foolish, heartless babbhng, shall 
say as you have said, and that it reaches Clarence, he 


may tliink that it is indeed for rank and unbounded 
wealth I have cast from me tlie holy ties of long, long 
years, but time shall prove how fondly I was his until 
he declared liimself my country's foe. Yes, I was and 
am his, and though we meet no more here, Cornie, I 
shall be his in heaven." 

" Oh speak not thus, Natalie, my friend of friends, 
you will meet again to be happy, I trust, when war's 
stern voice shall cease to be heard within om' pleasant 
homes, and when once again you will be the brilhant, 
gay Natalie of yore. Hope for the brightest, whatever 

" No bright sun shall ever rise to me again, Cornie ; 
I have sacrificed my happiness on my comitry's altar, 
and never again shall bliss on earth be mine ; but pardon 
this weakness, my dear Cornie, I did not mean to betray 
it and thus distress you. Come, I shall summon 
courage to bear the next shock, and now let us descend 
to our friends." They were soon within the room where 
the laches were employed, and seating themselves they 
commenced the embroidery of the stars. 

" I assm-e you, Miss de Villerie, you deserve to have 
conferred on you L'etoile de Legion d'Hoimeur, you 
have embroidered these so beautifully," said Madame 
Bienvenu, as she glanced over the shoulder of Miss de 
Villeiie and caught sight of the beautiful golden stars 
which seemed to sparkle as in the firmament on then- 
rich azure ground- work. 

" Thank you for your graceful compliment, Madame 
Bienvenu, but as I have no aspirations for any insignia 
of favour that Royalty can bestow, I shall feel perfectly 
happy in the legion of brave soldiers that shall stand 

I 2 


beneath these stars, and fight for not me, but all the fair 
sex, and whose life-blood will flow to protect their 

" Oh, I am well aware of your very independent and 
truly American spirit, but feel surprised that you 
should have no ambition to win the smiles of royalty. 
I am sure, had I confeiTed a less compliment on our 

friend, Madame L- , of world-wide reputation, she 

would scarcely have thanked me. Nothing less than 
a royal compliment would be noticed by her." 

" Yes, I am quite well aware of om* friend's weak- 
ness, and have felt amused at her conversation in 
regard to the nobility with whom she mingled dm-ing 
her brief sojourn abroad. I have often been surprised 
that a lady who had held a position in her own coimtry 
could have ever so far forgotten the nobility of self as 
to pay the cornet to rank which she did." 

"It is not at all strange to me," said Madame 
Bienvenu, " anxious to shine in a sphere herself, to 
which she was a stranger, she deemed it more politic 
(which it certainly was) to serve than to act as her 
predecessors had done, she stooped therefore to cuny 
favom' where an American lady would not more than 
condescend. The glare and tinsel of coiu*t, accom- 
panied ^\\i\\ its show of pomp and ceremony, had she 
been a ti-ue American would have been in ridicvJous 
contrast with our simple and unpretending ceremonies 
at the " Wliite House," where all alike receive the smile 
and greeting of our President ; but she is evidently 
one of the kind who would pass carelessly by the 
humble violets of life, which are covered in their 
modest simphcity with theh green leaves, emitting then- 


fragrance unseen, to revel in the rank odours of a sun- 
flower, Avliicli would more flatteringly turn its broad 
coarse disk towards her, as its height would command 
her respect. But she is no representative of an American 
lady. No, an American lady would make these scions 
of princely races feel how much greater to be an 
American, each free and independent, than be the foot- 
stool of hereditary greatness. I am astonished that 
she should have been as well received even, as it is 
generally the case, that those whom we seek to please 
most, we generally succeed least with." 

" I am not at all surprised, Madame Bienvenu, as after 
a twenty-five years' diplomacy with foreign countries, 
through the medium of every sprig of nobility that 
appeared on our shores, and the entertaining at her 
home of every traveller of note, she was certainly 
entitled to some notice ; it would be more than rude 
had those whom she entertained, and for whom slie 
strained every nerve to serve, as well as the strain of 
her purse-strings, treated her otherwise than cour- 

" But why is she so silent now ?" said Miss Clifton ; 
" she who is always the first in the public arena ; w^hat 
can be the cause of ]ier silence at this time ? Surely, 
noiL\ she were excusable for appearing where before she 
might have been censured for even speaking^ 

" Ah, my dear young lady," said Madame de Y , 

" her politics are like Talleyrand's. ' Show me the vic- 
torious banner, and I'll tell you on which side I am.' " 

So said he, and so says oiu* female diplomatist. She 
would not endanger her popularity by such an impru- 
dent step as to side with either, but like our Saviour 


and King James, I say, " Those not with us are against 

"So say I," said Miss C , "but you a^II find 

many, Kke Madame L . It is not eveiy one who is 

possessed of that innate independence to act without 
regard of consequences, and according to dictates of 
conscience. Yes, rest assured it is pohcy, and this alone, 
that keeps this modern Countess of Blessington so quiet. 
Her voice has been raised on all other subjects, wliy not 
on tliis ? Policy ! It must indeed be a stern policy 
wliich should dictate to a woman silence in such a 

"I would breathe my sentiments, and speak them 
boldly in the face of friend and foe," said Miss deVillerie. 
" In a moment such as this, one should recognise no 
claim save their country's ; friendsliip, affection, esteem, 
and love should be banished far from our breasts, if it is 
to make cravens of us in our hour of trial. Let the tie 
of our coimtry's love first be strengthened, and after- 
wards let us find room in oiu* hearts for other. Male- 
dictions rest upon the head of those Tarpeias who 
would sell their countiy's fair fame for golden favours of 
the enemy, and may the fate of Rome's recreant daugh- 
ter be that of all lukewarm persons, who, by their c(m- 
duct display the traitor or the craven. Too many of 
the kind have dwelt in our midst, and it is necessary 
that our land should be rid of these moles, who plot in 
the dark, and undermine with their subterranean ma- 
chiner}^ the foundation of our most glorious institjitions. 
Xow is the time to judge Mend from foe ; now is the 
time the pruning knife should be placed at the root, to 
eradicate the budding imperfections of the glorious 


Confederate tree, whose branches shall o'ershaclow the 
earth, and whose blossoms shall be ' defiance^ — whose 
fruit ^ victory y 

" Bravo^ ma chere Mademoiselle," said Judge S , 

who had entered unperceived, and stood silently admir- 
ing the eloquence of Miss de Villerie ; " Bravo ! Such an 
advocate in our cause is sufficient guarantee of success." 

" Welcome to Rosale, tlirice welcome, Judge S ," 

said Miss de Villerie, advancing towards her guest, 
" and permit me to assure you I am not alone in my 
sentiments, as each of my fair lady friends here ex- 
pressed tliemselves with quite as much spiiit, but I was 
only fortunate in being heard." 

" By no means, Miss de Villerie ; to you we most 
unhesitatingly and unanimously accord the palm of 
patriotism, and to you alone there seems to be given an 
inspired voice in advocating yoiu- sentiments," said 
Madame Bienvenu, " but we, though unable to express 
om'selves in the same glowing terms and speech, 
nevei-theless feel the justice and truth of all you say. 
You knoAv, Judge, it is not all who share the gift be- 
stowed on Isaiah. 

" Ah, my dear Madame, I would still suppose, from 
my knowledge of the ladies, and from their powers of 
oratory, that, like Elijah's mantle, it was cast upon them 
as an inheritance, ere he left this terrestial sphere, his 
power of persuasion Avas certainly transmitted to one, 
whose lips I have myself seen glow as though touched 
by living coals, whatever cause she espoused." 

" I thank you," said Miss de Villerie, " in the name of 
my sex, for this graceful compliment ; and now I pre- 
sume, Judge, we ladies are indebted for this visit to the 


complimentar\^ rumour which lias been spread abroad 
relative to our handiwork, and the design of the flag, 
which was originated within these walls, and in the 
fertile brains of the ladies whom you see present." 

" I will admit, fair lady, that such is the object of 
my visit, and I feared I would be compelled to return 
A\'itliout gTatifying my very laudable curiosity, as your 
porter informed me our sex were entirely excluded 
from these meetings ; but on informing him of my septe- 
genarian claims to entrance to these sacred precincts, 
and assm-ing him that I possessed no attractions to dis- 
tract the demoiselles from then' occupation, I was per- 
mitted to enter on my own responsibility. I think 
had I remained silent, I could have proven conclusively 
there were no Freemasons in your society, as you all 
seemed so intent on your own affairs, that I tliink I 
could have made my exit undiscovered, had not Miss 
de Villerie's oratory drawn forth the exclamation which 
betrayed my presence." 

" Then," said Miss Clifton, " we are indebted to ]\liss 
de Yillerie, for had you remained longer, we know not 
what denouement might have been made, and it is wt^II 
there were no traitorous sentiments expressed, or you 
might have brought us before the grand jmy for these 
Roland assemblies." 

" On the contrary, dear Miss Clifton, I should doubt- 
less, by force of logic, be converted to yom* piinciples, 
and joined your meetings." 

" Judge," said Miss Clarendon, *' I tliink you more 
comphmentary than sincere ^s-ith om- sex." 

" Ah, my fair sceptic, what proof can I give of my 
honesty ? I fear, however, as you are all sceptical, I 


shall be even compelled to acknowledge more gallantry 
than one of my age is entitled to, to rid myself of yonr 
accusation of insincerity. But come, ma chere, bring 
forth this gonfldon, and I will pass sentence on its 
worth, and rest assured you shall have my ideas upon it 
in all candour, if I do not give them on yom' sox 
sufficiently so." 

Miss de Villerie noAV advanced, bearing the flag, and 
firmly planting the silver staff on the floor (whose silver 
tip was surmounted with gold), the broad and stream- 
ing banner almost fell to the floor, in its heavy silken 
folds. A blue union, with seven golden stars of the 
first magnitude surrounding a silver embroidered mag- 
noHa tree, whose branches overshadowed emblems of 
the different agricultural products of the state, while a 
pelican d'argent rested with outstretched wings upon 
the topmost limb, and underneath the tree, by the 
margin of a lake, were discovered the female pelican 
feeding her young, while far above both tree and pelican 
were seen the stars of the Old Union, growing " beau- 
tifully less" in the dim horizon, as they were eclipsed 
by the brilliancy of the mystic seven. The whole 
surrounded by this motto, " We live and die for those 
we love." Three horizontal stripes, red, white, and 
red. The first red and white extending from the imion 
to the end of the flag, and the lower red stripe con- 
tinuing the whole length of the flag, occupying the 
entire space below the union. The stripes all of equal 
w^idth, while bordering the whole was a rich golden 


" Now, Judge, tell us what you think of our ensign," 
said ]\Iiss de Villerie, " as all the ladies are present to 


receive yom* opinion? I fear fi'om your countenance, 
however, that you do not Hke oiu* design, if so, suggest 
an improvement, and ^ye -will be most happy to act 
upon it." 

"My face. Miss de Yillerie, is but a poor muTor 
of my thoughts, if such a sentiment is expressed. I 
most assuredly admu-e your skill and taste ; nothing 
could be more beautiful, and the warrior sm-mounting 
the staff TN-ith his sword drawn is the most apt device 
that could be imagined. The pehcan, about to plume 
its ^\dngs for flight, while beneath repose his mate and 
young, is emblematic of those who now leave their 
homes and children under the protecting shadow of 
the Confederacy, and go forth to win laui-els on the 
gory field. It is both apt and beautiful, and too great 
praise, Miss de Yillerie, cannot be awarded to yoiu'self 
and yom- noble companions. It is cei*tainly the most 
beautiful of all the state standards tliat I have seen. I 
am only sony that these Alpine hairs are too numerous 
on my brow, or I should be proud to form one of those 
who ^\'ill fight beneath its folds, but I trust my son Ts^ill 
do honour to liis father's name, and to that of his country 
and state." 

" Ah !" said :\Iiss de Yillerie, " no doubt of that. We 
have not forgotten his father's claim to our lasting 
gratitude for liis noble actions, which called forth the 
benedictions of our people in the war of 1812, A^dth oiu- 
more ancient foes, and the strong arm who helped to 
send those British curs howling from our shores ' Like 
father hke son,' so may it prove, as I have no doubt it 
^\lIl in the present case." 

" Thank you. Miss de Yillerie, for yom- graceful com- 


pliment. Your memory is no less praiseworthy than 
yom- taste and genius, hut I fear, if Madame Bienvenu's 
friend were here he woiikl not reHsh the latter part of 
your remark, eh, Madame ?" 

"I cannot be prude enough to affect not to com- 
prehend you. Judge, and if it is to Lord Ethelred 
you refer, I ^^dll answer for him that he is too loyal a 
supporter of the remnant of the Bruce and Wallace 
spirit which exists in his native land, to care for a thrust 
aimed at the breast of the ferocious and blood-thu'sty 
Taurus, whose horns are ever ready to pierce the hearts 
of the weak and unguarded, and whose portentous 
bellowmgs proclaim his deeds of oppression and ini- 
quity. Be assiu-ed he is now standuig off in his rich 
clover pastm-e chewing the cud of speculation, and 
lookmg at our proceedings with dull, sleepy eyes, but 
interested and avaricious heart. Whatever your senti- 
ments are towards our transatlantic cousins, or however 
bitter they may be, they are not more so, be assured, than 
are Lord Ethelred's. There are hearts ready to tear in 
pieces the first gladiator who shall enter the arena, and 
I assm-e you tliey need no bait to encourage them." 

" I am really indebted to you, Madame Bienvenu," 
said Miss O'Gara, " for your expressions in regard to my 
foes, for I beheve I claim it as an hereditary privilege to 
detest a nation who left my ancestors penniless, and 
who, because they could not change then- rehgion mth 
as much ease as Harry the Eighth coidd his wives, and 
Luther his principles, were disinherited and cast out 
from their ancestral homes to wander, some to Spain, 
and others to America, to seek asylum wherever they 
could from oppression." 


" Ladies, je are stancli friends, but unrelenting foes, 
and tliougli I accord ^atli you in your sentiments, they 
are nevertheless tres amere^ 

" Yes, they are bitter. Judge, I ovn\, but not com- 
pared to the gall which constitutes the life-blood of 
those Anglo-Saxon barbarians." 

" It is true, indeed, Madame, that their blood seems 
to be of gall, and not such as com'se in rich generous 
streams tln-ough the hearts of other nations. And now, 
ladies, I will say bon soir, as I feel I have already tres- 
passed too far on your time and courtesy. To-moiTow, 
I presume, I shall again have the pleasui'e of seeing 
you, when we shall meet to present to our noble volun- 
teers this standard, which yom- fair hands have executed. 

Au revoiry As he said these words, Judge S bowed 

most gracefully to the ladies and T\'ithdrew. 

"Well, ladies," said Miss Clifton, "we have finished, 
and now it remains for Miss de Yillerie to gTace our labour, 
and her own exquisite taste, by presenting this banner." 

" Which I shall not fail to do on the moiTow, in the 
name of my sex," responded our heroine. 

" Miss de Yillerie, we T\dll now say adieu, with affec- 
tionate remembrances to Madame de Breuil, and the 
Judge, whom we tnist to see to-moiTow." 

"Adieu, mes cheres amies,'' said Miss de Yillerie, and 
soon tjie last carriage had rolled out of the grounds, 
when Miss de Yillerie sought her chamber to seek 
repose, and prepare for the approaching ceremony, which 
was but five horn's off. Aiu'ora's roseate hands were 
just unfolding her tissue-like veil to display more fully 
the visage of the gentle goddess, whose most gracious 
smiles were bestowed upon her votaries. In donning her 


robes of green, gold, and azure, she seemed to hasten to 
the scene to which the vast concourse seemed advancing. 

It was but seven o'clock and all the youth and 
beauty of the city of New Orleans were out, some in 
carriages, others on foot, but all hastening to the 
cathech-al of St, Louis, where already the deep tones 
of the organ were swelling through the arches of the 
magnificent building. 

Enter with us reader, with gentle tread, and let us 
witness the ceremony. This way, for the aisles are 
already filled with the richly-dressed soldiers of the 
battaHon, and their magnificently attu-ed officers, Avhile 
every pew and niche is crowded, almost to suffocation, 
with the elite and beauty of the Crescent City. How 
gorgeous and pictm^esque is the effect the Avhole scene 
presents. The glowing rays of the bright morning 
sunbeams stealing in through the beautifully-stained 
windows, mingling with the red light of the uinumer- 
able wax tapers, tmging the rich draperies of the altar 
and its glittering vessels of gold and silver, with a 
party-coloured light, the stalwart forms of the stern 
soldiers, clad in their rich uniforms of varied tints, the 
men like bronzed statues with their dark eyes and 
beards, and stern and handsome forms ; the women 
fairer somewhat, but wearing an heroic expression on 
their lovely faces ; the array of priests, with their venerable 
bishop in his pm-ple robes, and the procession of youths 
in their dresses of crimson silk and white lace, added to 
a scene which surpasses the powers of description to 
pom-tray; while rich and odoriferous incense rose and 
filled the vast cathedral, and cast a hazy veil over the 
scene, both deep and impressive, which obscm-ed some- 


what the rich frescoes of the ceiling, but added a more 
solemn air to the ceremony. At length the Lisliop 
advanced in front of the congregation, when ]\Iiss de Vil- 
lerie came forward ^^'ith her procession of lathes, and knelt 
before the altar dming the consecration of the banner ; 
Avhen, rising as the last words of the benechction were 
given, she placed her hand npon the staff of the flag 
wliich was supported by Gen. , and in a few grace- 
ful and unpressive words presented it in the name of the 
ladies of Xew Orleans. As the last words died on her 
lips there rose upon the ear a strain so rich, so inspuiiig, 
from the hundi'ed chanteurs in the choh, as is seldom 
heard on earth, and nowhere equalled unless m Rome 
(who yet retains a moiety of her ancient grandeiu'). 
Slow and sad it rose at first, but gradually quickening, 
the anthem pealed through the vaulted cathedral, and 
as the battalion marched out, each ftice expressed a deter- 
mination to die beneath the magnificent standard rather 
than yield to the foe, and eveiy soldier seemed to feel 
insphed with a divine courage as reverently they left 
the house of God, and to the sound of thefr own band 
proceeded to the steamer which was to bear them to 
the scene wliich would soon, they anticipated, be one of 
deadly strife. 

The steamer has moved ojff from the wharf amidst 
the loud huzzas of the multitude and the signalhng of 
friends — the last farewell to many, perhaps, had been 
spoken, and some have " parted for years, and it may 
be for ever;" and now the pearly tears are com'sing 
down the cheeks of many a fafr gfrl who had restrained 
them for " his sake," or lest a betrayal of her own weak- 
ness should unnerve him for the coming conflict. 


Farewell, brave soldiers ! your wives, your cliildren, 
yoiu* liomes and firesides, ye have looked upon, per- 
cliance, for the last time on earth. Blush not for the 
rising tear which dims your vision of the loved object 
you are parting from, for lo]ig ere ye meet again, if ever, 
the grass will have sprung over the breasts of many 
a loved one whose eye shone bright at parting, but 
whose quivering lip bespoke the suppressed grief within. 

God bless ye, noble men, ye are leaving homes of 
luxmy and ease for the hard and trying scenes of camp 
life. Your beds of down A\dll be exchanged for hard 
earth, and your only canopy often will be the spangled 
firmament. But ye are happy in the thought that ye 
will bequeath to posterity names whose glory shall vie 
with those of Greece or Rome, whose luitarnished lustre 
shall shine on history's page when the poor form of clay 
shall be mouldering into dust, and whose memory will 
breathe inspu-ation into the breasts of the youth of future 
ages. Then blessings on ye, noble soldiers, where'er 
ye go. 

Among the last caniages that homeward turned 
fi-om the wharf were the magnificent equipages of 
Judge de Breuil and Colonel Clifton. In that of the 
former were seated Miss Clifton, Miss de Yillerie, and 
Colonel Clifton, while in the latter were seen Madame 
Bienvenu, Madame de Breuil, and Judge de Breuil. 
As the carnages slowly tm^ned, Miss Clifton leaned 
forward to catch one other parting glimpse of her 
brother, who stood upon the deck of the steamer, in his 
appearance reminding one forcibly of a description of 
one of Ossian's heroes. " In peace thou art a gale of 
spiing, in war the mountain stonn." His golden hair 


shone like a halo round his classic face, and in beauty he 
seemed a very Adonis. 

" Farewell, my brother, my darling brother," sobbed 
Miss Clifton, while her slight form seem con^mlsed Avith 
grief, " you have left us, I feel, for ever. I shall never 
again hear thy loved voice, never again wait to welcome 
thee at t^^dlight's horn', when night seemed only to draw 
her veil around where thou wert not. For, oh! my 
brother, I lived, I breathed in the sunshine of your 
bright, noble, happy face, and now all is darkness m 
our home. Has not indeed om' day-star sped ? Alas ! 
yes, for it is only night where thou art not Oh, my 
dear brother, my oa\^i dear brother, we have parted 
to meet no more on earth. I feel thou art lost to my 
earthly vision for aye ; but Beverly, far from the pains 
and ills of life, -in that starry world beyond the clouds, 
and beyond the tomb; 'in that mansion of whose beauty' 
eye hath not seen, ear hath not heard, nor hath it 
entered into the heart of man to conceive, there, my 
brother, there shall we meet once more, and thou shalt 
know me as thy own dear sister. Yes, there I shall find 
thee, like St. John, resting on the bosom of thy God. 
Yes, Beverly, forewell until that last meeting." 

Miss de Yillene, whose own heart was aching, and 
down Avhose pale cheeks the tears com'sed, gently stole 
her arm around Miss Clifton, and said, "Do not weep 
thus, my friend. I feel it is sad to part, and trymg it 
must be with yom' only brother ; but remember it is not 
all who enter the field of battle that are slain. Your 
brother is brave, and has proved it ere to-day; then 
trust that lie vnU. retm-n as formerly." 

" Oh, dear Natalie, it is for this I fear. I know him 


to be brave. No, bravery is not the word. He is more 
than brave; he is Mars himself; and kno^ving tliis, I 
fear for him the more, simple victory will not content 
him ; it mnst be a complete triumph, or death." 

" My daughter," said Colonel Clifton, who had up to 
this moment sat silent, almost choking with emotion, 
"yom- brother will retm-n to us ere long, and your 
tears will be changed to joyful exultations. He 
Avill, I feel, Avin laurels for himself and family. At 
all events, my daughter, he has offered liimself as a 
victim to his country's god ; and though he is my only 
son, I have freely sent him forth to fight for his native 
land, and should Almighty God see proper to take him 
hence, in the flower of his age, and thus bereave me, I 
shall only bow this grey head of mine in resignation to 
the Divine fiat, who thus chasteneth me. Then, my 
daughter, be hopef\il, be cheerful ; it is time sufficient to 
prepare for the shower when the sky becomes clouded." 
Thus he sought to cheer her, though his own heart 
was sore and hea^T-. It was all in vain ; her tears 
flowed, and would have washed to view a bed of dia- 
monds had they fallen on the mine, so bitter was her 
woe. She was no picture of Niobe, she was Niobe 

"I imagine," said Miss de Villerie, ''that a speedy 
contest is at hand in Virginia, and I daily anticipate the 
news of a great battle." 

"Yes," said Colonel Clifton, "our armies are ap- 
proaching each other rapidly, and the cry with om- foes 
seems to be ' On to Richmond.' " 

" Affairs are indeed portentous at present, and I think 
this war will not be a very short one. Nor would I have 


it a brief struggle, unless it slioukl result in complete 
indepeuclence. I would rather, if 1 were a man, share 
the fate of William Tell and his brave companions, 
and flee to the mountain fastnesses, to make my home 
with the beasts of the forests and birds of tlie aii', than 
consent to any measm'e that did not establish perfect 
separation and freedom, if it takes years to accomplish, 
— let us in the end be free, and separate." 

" Yes, this is the only compromise that ever can, or 
ought to be made," said Colonel Clifton, "but it is one 
that never ^dll be, only at the point of the bayonet, 
and much blood. Yes, rivers will flow ere this." 

They were now arrived at Judge de Breiul's, and 
]\Iiss de Yillerie politely requested Colonel Clifton and 
his daughter to remain to dumer. They respectfully 
decHned, and entered their own can'iage that had just 
arrived with the other party, and drove home. Madame 
Bienvenu dined ^dth i\Iiss de Yillerie, and retm'ned 
to the city in the evening, where she made one of a 

most brilliant soiree at Madame D 's, as she had no 

one in particular for whom to grieve amongst the 
departed battalion, she was the gayest of the gay, 
being as usual accompanied by her (now ^awcee) Lord 
Ethelred. She shone the star of the everdng, and many 
'were the en^'ious glances cast upon her by the 
young ladies, and the young (old) ladies whom Lord 
Ethelred had fumid favoin- Avith, but for one smile of 
the mdow he would have yielded all other marks of 
favom\ Report said she was soon to be Lady Ethelred 
(a pretty name, is it not ?) — I do not know. Time, who 
proves all things, will tell, and who, ^A^ith his usual 
good sense, reveals nought luitil the proper moment. 



** By the hope within us springing, 

Herald of to-morrow's strife ; 
By that sun, whose light is bringing 

Chains or freedom, death or life — 
Oh ! remember life can be 
No charm for him who lives not free ! 

Like the day-star in the wave, 

Sinks a hero in his grave." 

The voice of mom-ning is already heard ^\dtliin our 
Southern homes. List to the swelling wails that arise 
from our midst. Hark ! 'tis the sobs of a mother, wife, 
and friends, for one of Louisiana's fairest, brightest, and 
most gifted sons. The brilliant orator, and the brave 
warrior, were never better illustrated than hi the person 
of C. D. Drew, since the days of Pericles, but, unhke his 
ancient protot^^e, he did not hve to see his country's 
enemies vanquished, but died nobly in defence of his 
native land. Gifted and brave, his voice was one of the 
first raised for secession, and he willingly went forth to 
contend against the foe with his vahant little band. 
Affable, Idnd, and noble in demeanour, together ^ith a 
person Avhich Apollo might have envied, he Avon all 
hearts to himself, and we folt as we gazed upon the 

K 2 


placard wliicli met the eye at every corner, and in 
gleaming letters proclaimed a company foiTaing called 
the "Drew Avengeis," that it was not love of countiy 
alone that called it forth, but undying love for the brave 
young Creole, who was first among the Crescent City 
vouth to offer up his life, and to die at the foot of the 
altar erected to patriotism. Yes, his young Hfe's blood 
has consecrated the soil of Virginia. From eveiy drop 
shall sprmg a wamor, armed cap-a-jne, to revenge him ; 
and solemnly did that little band bear their valorous 
leader from the spot on which he fell, and dire and cbead 
was the oath they swore on the shrine of Nemesis. And 
now they are prepaiing to bear him to his native city, 
to do honour to his remains ; and now the corpse is 
h^ing in solemn state in the parlom* of the City Hall, 
where the young, the old, the great, the lowly, are 
wending then* way to do him reverence, and to gaze 
upon those featm-es which death even, Tv^th all its 
horrors, has not deformed. Come with us now to the 
home of this chieftain, wliich not many months ago he 
was the light and soul of I T^ill introduce you " but 
one day pre^^ous" to the amval of his body. Seated ui 
her parloui', siuTOunded by her friends, was the wife of 
him of whom we write, and in her arms she clasped a 
beautiful child. Her friends, who were all cognisant of 
her husband's death, gazed upon mother and child with 
adnuration, mingled ^\dth pity, but none could summon 
courage to broach the dreadful subject to her, for her 
heart seemed light, and to her fiiends she had never 
seemed happier, or more beautiful, than on this sad 
morning. In vain they essayed to introduce the sub- 
ject, and though they discussed many things, that which 


was nearest to the heart seemed farthest, and most 
difficult for expression, and the tears were wellmg to 
many eyes. 

At kst Mrs. Drew, observmg their grave looks, 
remarked, " I know not why yon are all looking so sad 
this morning. As for me, I have never felt happier in 
my life ; that is," she added gaily, "in the absence of 

At length her brother-in-law entered, and said to 
her, " I have sad news for yon, Mollie ; but you must 
meet it with fortitude. Mollie, Charles is dead. He 
was killed, and they are bearing his body home; but 
look upon it with strength, and God will help you." 

She gazed at him incredulously, and then laughed, 
saying, " Ah, my dear brother, you cannot deceive me ; 
you think me credulous enough to believe anything, but 
I know this is not true." Then seeming in a moment to 
realize the truth of what he had told her, from the 
countenances of those around her, she gave one piercing 
scream, and fell fainting in the arms of her brother. 
Language is madequate to describe the grief of the 
desolate Avife. Her life seemed only to return to display 
more plainly before her her heavy loss, and convulsion 
succeeded convulsion until nature seemed exhausted, 
and she lay calm in her desolation and grief, like a 
beautiful ruin over which the moonlight tln'ows its 
charm, adding a ten-fold beauty to this lonely one. 
Madly she pressed her cliild to her bosom, and wdldly she 
called upon its father's name, but, alas! he was deaf to her 
entreaties, till both babe and mother wept themselves 
to sleep, while the angel of sorrow enshrouded them 
with liis T\dngs. Stricken ^vife, fatherless babe, and 


lieart-broken mother and fiiends, ye are but types of the 
many wliose tears sliall floAv ere the fierce ]\Iars shall be 
appeased. It is not one hecatomb, but many, that 
shall be slain, and may the presentiment of death, which 
must, and could alone have dictated the following letter 
of him of whom I write, nerve your arms to write like- 
wise, when writing to those ye love, that your country, 
and T\qfe too, may claim you alilve. " Come what may, 
my dear, I belong to my country, and you know you 
belong to me." But read for yourselves, a letter teem- 
ing with loyalty and noble affection : — 

"Richmond, Va. 

"June 18th, 18C1. 
" Dear Mollie, 

" I TVTote to you a long letter yesterday, and as if 
Providence wished to encoui'age me in writing to my 
o^n dear MolHe, I received almost at the same time a 
long, most welcome, and long-wished-for letter from you. 
It makes my heart beat ^vith emotions of noble patriotism 
when I read the bm-ning words of inspu'ation that flow 
from your pen. In ftict, 1 have read a few passages of 
yom- letter to my fellow-soldiers, and every one ardently 
w^shed that he had such a brave and noble-hearted wife. 
The days of poHtical differences and party are gone, and 
only one spirit animates us all. The invaders are at om* 
gates, and they MUST be repelled. You have doubtless 
before this read of the glorious victory achieved by our 
troops a few days ago at Bethel Chm'ch. I have seen 
and conversed ^-ith eye-witnesses of the battle. The 
Yankees ran away Hke whipped curs, leaving for over 
five miles, all their muskets, canteens, knapsacks, etc., 


on the groniid. It was a perfect rout, a complete defeat. 
The moral effect produced by that exploit on the part 
of our troops is not easily to be estimated. The Southern 
Vohmteers are all awake, and ' eager for the fray,' and 
Richmond looks like a ' Champ dollars,' so many soldiers 
are seen around it. You hear nothing here but the 
soiuid of the drums, the piercing notes of the fife, and 
rumbling of heavy waggons, loaded with war baggage. 
Troops move every day and every hour. To tell you 
the truth, my dear, we also have to move ; the orders 
have just been received by me from the Adjutant-General, 
and the camp is now in a stir, preparing to move army 
and baggage. We are ordered from this place to York- 
town, within eight miles of the enemy's Ime, and with 
most glorious prospects of an early and good brush. 
When there, we shall be under command of Colonel 
Magruder, who succeeded so well in the debut at Bethel 
Chm'ch. The boys are delighted ^dth the prospect 
before them, and we are all m the highest glee. May 
the God of battles smile upon us. Cheer up, my dear wife ; 
I have brave hearts and strong arms to sustain and cheer 
me on, and I feel confident of the result ; many a 
noble son of Louisiana may fall by my side, and I may 
be the first to bite the dust, but rest assm-ed that they 
or I will always be worthy of the esteem and respect of 
our countrymen, and endeavour to deserve well of our 
country. When I reach Norfolk I shall write agam, and 
give you full particulars. Rest assured until you hear 
from me, or until the telegraph gives you bad news of 
our expedition. Come what may, my dear, I belong to 
my countiy, and you belong to me ; one in all, all in one, 
we owe our duty and oiu- lives to both. Were you as 


good and brave a man as you are a true and noble 
woman, I know I would have you by my side, fighting 
^vith all your might the base and miserable invaders. 
Excuse me, dearest, for the digression. To-moiTow we 
leave for the seat of war. What to-morrow ^vli\ biing 
forth I know not, but tln-ough prosperity or adversity, 
opulence or poverty, secm-ity or danger, 1 am still your 
own Charles. 

" Tell father I am ashamed to promise to A\i'ite, for 
he may know I shall break my promise. Kiss one and 
all for me at home ; press om- sweet little one to your 
heart, and tell her to love and cherish you, for the sake 
of her papa. 

"Yom- own Charles." 

This epistle needs no comment. To the heart of 
every patriot, husband, and fathei', it speaks in thiilling 
language, and long after peace shall smile upon us, that 
page on which this touchuig letter is inserted, shall be 
tm-ned to and read, while tears shall bedew the lines 
which were traced by him, whose form is mouldering to 
dust, but who still exists in the hearts of his people. 
This brief letter was traced by the patriot husband and 
father ; it is these who speak, and not the orator, states- 
man, or warrior. Of his own, and to his own was it 
written, and flowed from liis pen with all the ease with 
which the silent stream courses onward to the great 
river, for it flowed from liis heart. Here is display of 
no rhetorical and pompous language, which so often is 
traced by the pen, but so seldom emanates fi'om the heart. 
In his lone and distant camp he -^Trote to her, who was 
the choice of his youth, and whom he was never again 


to beliold, and to her lie poured forth his last thoughts. 
Two objects of love seemed to possess his entire being, 
and like a Christian who, standing on the confines of 
eternity, is offered on the one hand a teiTCstrial kingdom, 
wdiere he shall rule as king, and on the other a celestial 
and eternal mheritance, where he shall be subject of 
none save God ; who, with the fliith of a Christian yields 
his earthly for heavenly bliss, and closes his eyes to all, 
save his implicit trust in the Divine assurance, so he 
closed his eyes on the alluring joys of home, and fol- 
lowed where duty led, confident in the noble sense of 
honour and justice. For his native land he resigned 
these, and to-day it proves that it is not ungrateful nor 
mimindful of the sacrifice and wrongs. 

From early dawn the whole city seemed astir, and 
now it was approaching the hour for his burial. Up and 
down the streets rode officers, while sentinels were 
placed at the corners of all the principal thoroughfares, 
and with their pointed bayonets repelled the mass, which 
otherwise would have blockaded the way of the pro- 
cession, but which, thus diiven back, stood on either 
side of the pavement, like the moving, rolling waves of 
the ocean, wliile the space between reminded one forcibly 
of the passage of the Red Sea. Every balcony, window, 
doorway, or niche was crowded with anxious spectators, 
who came from far and near to gaze for the last time 
upon the youthful hero's mortal remains. Eulogies 
fell fi'om every lip and voice, as CA^ery one proclaimed 
the departed's merit. But silence, like a spell, flills 
upon the crowd. Every voice seems hushed, and 
not a breath seems to float upon the ah', for the 
procession is seen in the distance advancing, and the 


dirge-note and solemn beat of tlie muffled drum 
break upon the ear. Slowly it advances, lieaded by the 
band, whose instruments were draped in mourning; 
then came a company of cavalry, followed by several 
other companies of foot and horse, vriili furled and 
draped standards; then came carnages beaiing the 
bishop and clergy, the former, as also the latter, arrayed 
in their robes, next to which (smToimded by a small 
number of his company, who had amved from Virginia, 
as the escort of his remains) came the corpse, enclosed 
in a magnificent cofl&n of rosewood, and resting on g-un 
carriages (while, by its side, walked an Afiican groom, 
leading his splendid charger, elegantly caparisoned). 
A magnificent pall of black velvet drooping below, while 
bannerets and floatmg streamers waved from each 
festoon, above Avhich were flowers of rich fragance, as 
also on eveiy portion of the caniage, and breathed their 
sweet incense aroimd him. Then followed all the other 
mihtary companies — cavalry, artillery, and foot ; wliile 
the procession wound up by carnages bearing private 
citizens, T\4th the students of the Jesuit College, and 
the oiphan bo}S brought up the rear, T^^th theii' juvenile 
musicians, who played a sad, sweet requiem. 

Slowly and reverentially wended the cortege through 
the principal streets ; when at last, arriving at the St. 
Louis Cemetery, the body was borne to its last resting- 
place, and there an eloquent oration was delivered over 
the remains ; and thus, the last religious rites having 
been paid, they slowly lowered liim to rest, while 
the bamier of the Confederacy enfolded him in its em- 
brace. Sadly rose the requiem on the air, as the 
magnificent procession turned to leave ; and fast fell 


the tear-drops wliicli sprang from many hearts, as the 
cannon and guns were fired, and they cast a last glance 
on the spot which contained the body only, from which 
the spirit had wmged its flight to that " better land." 
Bitter the regrets for that young oak cut down in all its 
strength and beauty, but sweeter the memories of its 
twilight shadow. 

The last lingerer had left the cemetery, and when 
night opened her dusk eyes upon the scene, it found 
him " alone in his glory." There shall that body slum- 
ber on, in its silent repose, until those last dread words 
shall break the cerements of the tomb, " Arise, ye dead," 
&c ; when man shall don his mortal robes again, and 
appear in the presence of his God. Then, with the 
humblest subject in that vale, shall stand the C^sars, 
the Hannibals, the Neros, and Caligulas ; their smiles 
or frowns then none shall heed, and in the presence of 
the " King of kings " shall these tyrants tremble as 
then- lowliest subjects. 

The tyranny of a royal decree alone caused men like 
the above to receive homage at their death, and a royal 
sepulchre after; but no such compulsory means drew 
forth the homage to the patriot whose obsequies I have 
just described. Love and honour were the sole dicta- 
tors, and these suggested to a grateful nation the mag- 
nificent tribute to a -wan-ior's memory, in which none 
were forced to act a part that did not coincide with 
their sense of justice or his merit. Happy he who can 
descend to the grave thus, the beloved of a nation, and 
receiving on his tomb a nation's homage, in offerings of 
love and tears. These are richer tributes than the 
sparkling mines of Golconda or Peru could yield ; the 


former shall live till ages roll away, and after be a proof 
of liis worth and deeds, who receive them before the un- 
yielding Judge on liigh; but the latter shall crumble 
and pass away with earth and all its ephemeral trea- 
sures. Then let tears and love alone be our offering, 
which shall come welling up from the heart's pm*e 
crystal fountain. Farewell, valiant chieftain, ^dth our 
tears^ and not marble^ will ^we erect to you a monu- 
ment, which the dust and mould of time cannot cover 
or efface — farewell. 

On an evening in the latter part of the month of 
July, there were assembled at Valambrosa (the residence 
of Colonel Clifton) a party, some of whom the reader 
has met before, and others to whom he will be introduced. 
A sultry July air rendered in-doors unpleasant, and 
sauntering under the piazzas and in the gardens, the 
guests sought refuge from the ardent heat. The elders 
of the party confined themselves to the house, while tiie 
yoimger people sought the borders of the lake, where, 
seated on the verdant turf, they whiled the hours away ; 
moored in tlie recess of some drooping '\^dllows, was a 
small fairy-like boat, which seemed to invite to a row on 
the lake, and which esp^dng, Albert la Branche (who 
formed one of the party, and who was now an old and 
expected visitor at Valambrosa) said, " Ladies, the 
water appears in\'iting, this evening, what say you to a 
row? As none seemed inchned to go on the lake, I 
must content myself on the side, though beyond in that 
dark grove, is nestling that little hut, with its glimmer- 
ing hght reflected in the water, it looks enchanting." 

" Well, come then, Mr. la Branche, since you are so 
anxious to explore my extensive realm," said Miss 


Clifton ; " come, Miss de Yillerie will join ns in a row, if 
only to prove the trutli of Campbell's lines — 

" 'Tis distance leuds enchantment to the view." 

" Come," she said, " wind this horn, and our Charon 
^vlLl appear." 

He took the shell, and ^\^nding a long note on the 
horn, there emerged from the Imt beyond the lake, a 
very old, but noble-looking negro, who advanced, and 
seated himself in the bottom of the boat, and ^dth two 
or three heavy strokes of the oar, which sent the waters 
scintillatmg all around him, he reached the spot to 
w^hich he was siunmoned. 

Albert la Branche placed the young ladies in the 
boat, and then seating himself, the old ferryman plied 
the oars ; soon they were in motion. 

"Adieu, fair ladies," said Mr. la Branche; "I am 
sorry you had not the necessary coin to pay your ferri- 
age, and as this is a ferr^mian who admits of no gallantry 
in paying each others' fare, I shall be forced to leave you 
to wander on the shores, as you lacked the proper coin, 
which in this case was consent." 

"Fear not for us," said a meny voice, "from the 
number that crosses, I think we shall have a much 
merrier time on the shores ; at least, we have, I think, 
the stronger party, and though victory is not always in 
strength, there is sometimes success in numbers, par- 
ticularly odd numbers." But, come, let us follow the 
water party. 

Arriving at the opposite shore, they left the skiff, 
and walked towards the hut. 

" Come let us take a peep at the mansion of this 


Plutonian subject. Why ! quite a pictm-e fur an artist, 
is it not? All the implements for fishing, hmiting, and 
visitors, too," said he, advancing to the back part of the 
room; he stood at a door leading out under a shed, 
formed by large branches of the palmetto, spread over 
long poles ; seated there were two persons, obscm-ed 
entii'ely by the shade. 

" Come, give us an air on this instrument," said 
Albert la Branche, as he handed a banjo to one of the 
persons. " Come, play the laches a welcome to your 
shores ; which is the best perfonner, Ike or Joe ? " 

Turning rudely around, they demanded, in a gTuff 
voice, " For whom do you take us, Sir?" 

" Well, from your insolence, the place, and circum- 
stances," answered Albert la Branche, boldly, " I should 
take you for what I presume you are — ruffians ; and 
nothing would prevent my chastising you on the spot 
but the presence of these ladies, whom I shall at once 
convey home, and then return and attend to your case, 
to learn the particulars of why you are here in this 
place-, in the negro cabin of one of Colonel Clifton's 
slaves, and within the precincts of that gentleman's 

Miss Clifton and Aliss de Yillerie, who had stepped 
back appalled at the first sight of these intruders, now 
became alarmed, and the former, trembhng \4olently, 
entered the hut, and placing her hand on the arm of 
Mr. la Branche, said — 

" Albert, for heaven's sake forbear, if not for yom* 
own, for my sake ! You know not these men, nor their 
intention. Come, let us go. Oh ! would that we had 
not come." 


Tims entreated, ho turned to leave, at the same time 
he said— "If your design is not malieious in being here 
this evening, I shall expect to find you on my return, 
when I shall be pleased to hear you prove your inno- 
cence, if, on tlie contrary, you are absent, it shall prove 
your guilt." 

"Ha, ha, ha, ha!" roared this pair of worthies. 
" Well, you talk pretty fine, young gent. I would Hke 
to know if you can fight as well ; I think I will try you 
at a round or two ; but let somebody tell us which must 
have kum out to protect t'other, for I'm darned if I can 
tell, that black-eyed girl seems to have none of the 
' white feather ' about her, but I cannot say as much for 
you, young man; it's a pity you couldn't exchange sex." 
Albert la Branche, as well as the young ladies, had 
now reached the boat, and a deaf ear was turned to this 
last insulting speech. They were rowed swiftly to the 
other shore, and springing on to the bank, Albert la 
Branche assisted his companions out of the boat. 

The party whom they had left beside the lake had 
retm-ned, and they now hm-ried on towcxrds the house. 

" What a singular and alarming rencontre," said Miss 
de Villerie. " I little presumed we should meet in 
Charon's hut abolition spies, for such they certainly 
appear to be, for not even the meanest Southern white 
man could be found who would presume to enter a 
gentleman's domain and visit his slaves, as we found 
those to-night." 

"Most assuredly they are spies," said Albert la 
Branche ; " hisurrectionary ones, and they must certainly 
be looked after, and if they remain (which I feel assm-ed 
they will not), we will administer to them some useful 


lessons ; and now, young ladies, I will say good evening, 
as I go to speak with Colonel Clifton, and to commmii- 
eate tliis strange affair." 

" Ma chere Natalie^'' said Miss Clifton, " excuse me for 
a few moments, and if you feel like retu'ing, act sans cere- 
mome^' and, gliding from ^liss de Yillerie's side, she 
placed her arm in that of Albert la Branche, and said — 
*' Come, dearest Albert, and promise me that you 'v\dll 
not retm-n to that dreadful place to-night. Oh ! that 
grove beyond the lake with its twinlvling light, which 
we so admired, now that I look back upon it after the 
teiTors of that interview, seems like some dismal marsh, 
while its light appears the ignis fatuus which leads us on 
to deceive us — do not retm'n, Albert ; let those men go 
then- way in peace, they cannot mjure us, om- slaves are 
faithful, and you, dear Albert, are involving yom'self in 
a difficulty for us and our safety ; for my sake, Albert, 
let this go no foi'ther." 

" Retire to your chamber, my darling, and fear not 
for my safety. I think, however, the occmTcnce of tliis 
evening has unstrung your nerves." 

Placing his hand upon her head, he bent doTvm and 
kissed her polished brow, and then disappeared tln'ough 
the library door, where Colonel Clifton sat readmg by 
the light of a silver lamp, which was suspended from 
the ceiling by richly wrought silver chams, which 
radiated to the four corners of the room. 

Hearing footsteps. Colonel Chfton raised his eyes, 
and then recognizuig his visitor, he arose and placed a 
chair with all the m'banity of a gentleman of the " old 
school." Time's icy touch had left its mark upon his 
hair and brow, and though the noble features still re- 


mained, the traces of sorrow lingered in tlie deep 

" I trust you will pardon the unceremoniousness of 
tills visit when I relate to you its object." 

" Most assuredly, my young friend ; no apologies are 
necessary ; and now proceed." 

Albert la Branche at once entered upon the sub- 
ject, ^nd related the particulars of the adventure, and 
then said, "Colonel, I await your advice, for I wish 
to do nothing rash, or without consulting you." 

Colonel Clifton arose from his seat, and rang a bell, 
which was answered by his valet. " Louis, say to the 
overseer that I wish to see him immediately." Then 
seating himself, he said, " It is very evident these men 
have evil designs, and their true object is tampering 
with slaves. They must at once be sought for and 
punished, though as far as my negroes are concerned, I 
have no fear. These men have been liu-king around 
for some time. I have heard of their bemg seen at the 
quarters of several of my neighbours. As to an insiu-- 
rectionary movement on the part of our slaves, I have 
not the least apprehension, yet the interference of these 
men may give nse to a great deal of trouble, which by 
the hnmediate execution of one or two of such vile 
wretches, would be put an end to." The overseer now 
entering. Colonel Clifton, said, " Valois, have you any 
knowledge of the two white men who have been visiting 
the plantations of our neighbours, among the negro 
cabins, and who were found this evening in the hut of 
Charon across the lake ? " 

"No, Sir; none in the least. I have been told 
there were a couple of low white men loitering about 



here, but had no idea, Sir, tliey Avould dare to enter 
yom* grounds. But, Sir, liow came they in Charon's 
hut? I cannot think him capable of receiving them 
there without permission from you, or myself" 

*' I know not, Valois ; and now you will at once 
investigate this matter, and leave no means untried to 
find these men, and bring them to justice. Ring for 
the di'iveis, and proceed at once to Charon's cabi^, to 
wliich place Mr. la Branche offers to accompany you. 
As for myself, I am too old to be of any service. I 
would be more hinch-ance than help." 

" Come, Yalois," said Mr. la Branche, " we will not 
cross the lake ; we vnW go round it, and enter Charon's 
cabin by the back way." 

Leaving the house, ^Ir. la Branche, the overseer, 
and a few trusty slaves, pursued their way in perfect 
silence towards the cabin. Not a sound was heard save 
their footsteps. All was hushed, and the light which 
had glimmered from the window of the hut early in the 
evening: was now extiniruished, and the door half closed. 
The party entered and found it deserted, save by the 
old man, who lay in unconscious slmnber on a cot. 
Rousing the old negro, Valois demanded in stern tones 
of Charon his knowledge of his ^^sitors. The old man 
appeared stupefied at first, but was soon brought to liis 
senses by the voice of Mr. la Branche, who asked him 
to say at once by whose permission those men were in 
his cabin. 

"Massa, 'bout sun-doT^^l I was sittin by de lake 
fishin, when de fii'st ting I kn'wd, dem two men kum 
up behind me, and gan talkin to me. Dey frist ax'd me 
how many niggers in dis plantation, and den they ax'd 


how long I'd been liere, and if I would'nt like to be 
free. I told em I was just as free as dey was, and if 
dat was all de business dey liad wide me, dey had 
better tend to dare own consams. Dey just larfed at 
me, and said as how I was a poor nited critter, and if 
I'd just foller dem dey'd lead me to liberty. Well, Massa, 
dey sot and talked and convarsed together ontil I got 
up to go to my hut, and den dey followed me in, and 
said dat dey VI just go wid me and take a peep at 
Southern nigger filigity. So dere dey sot until night, 
and when de horn blow'd I tought dey'd hab perliteness 
to leave, but dey said dey'd just sit outside until I kum 
back, for dey had someting ob importance to tell me. 
I told um I did not know what time I'd kum back, and 
dey'd better not wait, but dey staid arter all my hintin 
dat der room was better den der company." 

" Yes, Charon, this is all very well, and finely told, 
but why is it, you did not inform the young ladies and 
myself of those visitors, as we crossed the lake ? " 

" Well, you see, massa, I tought dey'd be gone, and 
I was just stonished as you, to find 'um still outside 
my back door — like eve-droppers ; ob course, when dey 
said dey'd sit outside, I tought, of com-se dey meent de 
fi-ont door, like white folks, and as I didn't see 'um dare, 
eluded dey was gone." 

" And if they had been," said Mr. la Branche, " I 
presume you would have said nothing of their visit, nor 
of what they said." 

" No, massa, kase dare won't no harm done." 

"Well, see here, old man," said Valois, "your master 
placed you here because he trusted you, but let me find 
you again harbouring such characters, and yom- age ^vill 

L 2 


be no protection for you, but like the youngest slave you 
shall receive chastisement. Shall we proceed in our 
search, Mr. la Branche?" 

Albert consenting, the party started, but Yalois turn- 
ing round said, " Charon, which way did your visitors 

" Don't know, massa ; dey'd gone when I kum back 
from t'other side de lake." 

Pm'suing their way around the lake, they entered 
cautiously, stables and carriage-houses, and eveiy possi- 
ble place that could serve for a hidmg-place, but all to 
no purpose. They had entered the boat to return across 
the lake, when, just as they were well seated, a shot 
came whizzing by Albert la Branche, and struck the 
overseer, wounding him but slightly. Puslmig back to 
shore, they sprang out, and made towards the vicinity 
from whence the report of the pistol came, but all in 
vain, they Avere nowhere to be found ; and, uneasy in 
mind, they again returned, with a full determination to 
scorn- the whole country when dayhght dawTied. 

They reported then- adventm^e to Colonel Clifton, but 
made no mention to any other members of the family, 
who were, ere tliis, sleepmg, unconscious of the vicinity 
of foes. But those arch-fiends were still abroad ; and 
when foui' o'clock dawned, it found the occupants of 
Valambrosa gazing in the distance on the rising lurid 
flames of their burning sugar-mill, with its two thousand 
hogsheads of sugar destroyed in its ruin. There were 
scenes, some of what may be termed the petty deeds 
of our enemies ; and though they were diligently sought 
after, they managed to_^escape justice, but we shall see 
how long they shall do so. 


" Gaze upon the ruins, my dear fi-iend," said Miss de 
Villerie to Miss Clifton, "and then say if you think me 
too bitter in my hatred to our foes. Is it not a 
diaboHcal fanaticism that prompts such deeds towards 
oiu- o^^m Idnd, and what pohcy is there that can palHate 
such acts ? How base must be the creatures (for I can- 
not call them men), who would stoop to such vile 
methods to carry out party revenge and prejudices. 
This is but the prelude, I fear, to more terrible scenes. 
These are the acts of men who visit our shores ^vith a 
psalm-book in one hand, while in the other, the torch 
and assassin's knife are concealed only by the volumin- 
ous folds of theh' cloak of sanctity. What can you say 
for them now, my friend? " 

"Alas! ma chere NataHe, I know not what to say. 
I would fain have both North and South amicably 
united, but I feel this hope is at an end for ever. We 
who had lived so long together, like one famHy, whose 
laws had been the admiration of all nations for their 
Cretan simplicity, than which none were more rigorous 
and equitable, are now torn asunder, never to be re- 
united, for there is no strife so deadly as brotherly 
or family contentions." 

" Let us trust that it may be so once again, dear, 
dear fiiend ; let us hope, let us pray, that a veil may be 
cast over oiu- eyes to their iniquities, and that repent- 
ance and atonement on their part, may lead us to for- 
get their transgressions. Yes, let us build a fairy struc- 
ture upon this hope, and let us try to forgive the 
trespasses of others, that our own may be forgiven, as 
our Heavenly Father has said, and if this, at last, prove 
but a doree chateau en Espagne, will it not, at least, be 


better to have looked on the bright side of this dark 
phantom ? " 

" Oh ! ma chere Natalie, why is it that all cannot live 
happy on this broad, broad earth? God lias lavished an 
abundance on man. Let us take but a moment's view 
of the map of our ot\ti hemisphere. See the vast extent 
of land left, and remaming' un'nhabited, and there are 
but few spots upon its broad surfoce but what would 
yield the labourer an hundred-fold. Then, wliy is it 
that they dispute for boundary ? and why is it that such 
trifles in themselves foment such temble disturbances, 
and involve us in miseiy and bloodshed? As for me 
(you will, w^ith all yom* great ideas of politics, which I 
do not comprehend, laugh at my pacific measures) I 
believe in an amicable settlement, such as Abraham 
made vdih. Lot, viz., 'If thou sxiW take the left hand, 
then I will go to the right ; or if thou depart to the 
right hand, then I wall go to the left.' " 

" I cannot but admire your sentiments, but this was 
in the patriarchal ages, as the world grcAV wiser (though 
en verite the contrary), all such gentle noble impulses 
of the human heart ceased. Ambition, with its thousand 
poisonous attributes, usm-ped the thi'one, where benignity 
and generosity once sat enthroned. As you say, trifles 
in themselves have caused the present state of affairs, 
which, a bubble at first, growing Httle by little, now 
threatens to submerge us by its turbulent foaming waves. 
Why is it, you ask, such trifles become of such magni- 
tude ? I T\ill answer you. That our political Xeptunes 
first raise vd\h their speculative and designing tridents 
the first bubble which the fii'ebrand journalists inflate to 
a most prodigious and overwhelming size, and then 


when they threaten to engulf all save themselves, and 
those who encom*age them in their murderous schemes, 
will accept of no quarter, nor listen to any appeals for 
mercy. See far away, eastward, westward, are hurrying 
the sombre clouds, where armed bands are gathering, 
and soon will be wafted on the air the sounds of deathly 
combat ; even at tins moment methinks I hear the din 
of battle. Yes, now even, oiu noble soldiers may b« 
yielding up their lives on the field of battle, beneath 
their country's flag. In Virginia, whose soil has boasted 
so many noble heroes in om* struggle for independence, 
and is made sacred by the nativity of a Washington, 
and from whence there never sprang a traitor (save one, 
and he dotage and imbecility will excuse) — in Virginia, 
I say, mil soon be heard the battle-cry, and om* Southern 
youth shall doubly hallow with their young lile-blood 
every spot of ground defiled by the footsteps of these 
Vandals, or drive them to then* own rude haunts. Yes, 
the smoking ruins which we gaze upon, my dear Cornie, 
is among the least of the injuries that Ave have and shall 
receive fi'om our enemies." 

" Then, let it never be our part to reciprocate at 
least such deeds as these. Let us thank God, dearesi 
Natalie, that we are not the aggressors in this terrible 
and unrighteous strife. Let our men fight boldly and 
valiantly on the field, but let no such base deeds as 
this disgrace om- annals. When peace smiles once again 
upon us, and the sun of glory is sinking to its western 
rest, let its last rays be refulgent, and beautiful on the 
lovely horizon, which shall glow with its opal dyes. I 
am not like you, chere Natahe, I cannot wish evil to any 
of the human race. God has placed us all here for some 


Avise purpose, and let He who doetli all tilings well, 
judge, — not an humble creature like myself." 

" Yes, Comie, my darliag friend, you possess ideas 
beautiful in themselves, but not fit for tliis progressive 
age of om-s. I am not like you, 'tis true. I perceive 
the fountain fi'om wliich you were nm-tm-ed flowed in 
gentle and less gushing streams than that from which 
I imbibed my sentiments. Yes, I feel it surguig through 
my veins at tunes in its mad career, and it seems as if, 
in its force and impetuosity, it would bear rocks, trees, 
and every obstacle before it. But see, great Sol is soar- 
ing high in mid heaven, and his burnished chariot throws 
almost too bright a reflection around. We will not 
linger to receive any fm'ther indications of his royal 
presence. Allons" 



Like clouds of the night the Northmen come, 

O'er the valley of Almhion lowering ; 
While onward moved, in the light of its foam, 

That banner of Erin, towering. 
With the mingling shock 
Rung cliffs and rock, 
"While rank on rank, the invaders die : 
And the shout that last, 
O'er the dying pass'd. 
Was " Victory ! victory !" — the Finion's cry. 

" 'Tis a cruelty, 
To load a falling man." 

Victory is ours ! Let us proclaim it far and wide, until 
liills and dales re-eclio the sound, and all honor, fame, and 
praise to the gTeat general whose wonderful Napoleonic 
genius has thus, with desperate, overwhelming odds 
against him, achieved so glorious and brilliant a victory — 
a victory uni-ivalled in the annals of America, North or 
South, not only for its magnitude, but its effulgence. 
Louisiana may well be proud of her great son, and 
Beauregard's is the name which shall shine brightest on 
history's page amongst the many brave heroes of the 
day, among whom shone conspicuous Bee, Kershaw, 
Johnston, Bartow, Smith, Hampton, Sloan, and others, 


whose names will live on the records of our country. 
From the great general himself to the lo^rest pnvatt', 
all, all fought valiantly, nobly, and only as Southerners 
alone know how to fight. To all we are indebted 
to-day, but I feel that from rank to rank I can hear 
each voice assenting that upon the brow of Beauregard 
alone must rest the triumphal ^^^•eatll of lam-el. Yes, to 
him who has so signally defeated and humbled the 
enemy on several occasions, award we the palm. Under 
him Fort Sumpter fell, and now the great battle which 
so long was maturing in his brain has been fought, and 
the foe was routed, pm-sued, scattered, captured, and 
slain, and had he been provided with troops to-day 
Washington would have been in om* possession. But as 
it is, another fearful and sanguinary battle must be 
fought, and we may not fear the result if a proper force 
be placed in the hands of Beam-egard. Blood must 
still flow, and aching hearts there still must be, but 
who will fear the issue who place their trust in God 
and Beauregard ? Let us look when he first took 
his position at Manasses. Gloomy indeed was it, and 
nothing but the teiTor of his genius could have restrained 
the enemy from crushing him. With a mere handful 
of troops, T\4thin one day's march of the enemy, boldly 
he made his stand in the very face of an overwhelmmg 
force. With weak forces badly provided, his fertile 
brains had to achieve all. With unwearied energy he 
bent liis mind to the task, and planned the campaign 
according to his condition, and the means fornished 
him. The whole field was drawn and marked out 
according to his plans. Batteries rose up everywhere ; 
time was gained ; and the enemy stood ofi appalled, 


making preparations, wliile lie carried on arrangements 
for their glorious achievement. Then all honour, ftime, 
and praise to our noble general. In every home to-night 
ascends his name from the shrine where the pure in 
heart lay their offt-rings, and " God bless thee," Beau- 
regard, is breathed by the fresh and rosy lips of beauty, 
no less fervently than by the wrinkled lips of age. 

But come with us, reader, to the interior of Southern 
homes, and listen to the well-merited eulogiums of our 

" Let us indeed congratulate ourselves," said Judge 

S to Colonel F , as he hm'riedly glanced over 

the columns of the morning journal, " upon this brilliant 
victory, for truly it is the most stupendous battle ever 
fought upon the western hemisphere ; with a hundred 
thousand men upon the field, and fifty thousand men 
actively engaged in the contest, with all the most 
approved, fiendish, and mm-derous appliances of modern 
warfare, with all the deadly rancorous hate that low 
fanaticism and foiled avarice could engender on the one 
side, and all the burning hate that bitter scorn, and 
outraged honom, and trampled right could arouse on 
the other, has been fought between the Northerns and 
Southerns, planned and won by our great Beauregard. 
He taught them, to use the language of the London 
' Times,' ' that Southerners are not to be walked over 
like a partridge manor, and that they have some mili- 
tary heads amongst them.' Yes, their cry of ' On to 
Richmond' is changed to one of wailing, and theii* 
floating banners, under which they marched, are either 
in the hands of the Southerners, or trampled in the 
dust, and the grand army of the Potomac is dispersed 


like chaff before the wind. As an army they are com- 
pletely annihilated. Gallantly have the invaders been 
repelled, and have not Generals Beam-egard and John- 
stone well sustained their reputation for valour ? Has 
not Beauregard won the greatest battle since that of 
Waterloo, and has he not established a claim to ample, 
to perfect confidence ? To wdiat now amounts the 
vain boastings of the North that an ' exhibition of 
Federal power w^ould soon crush the rebellion, and 
bring back the revolted states to the old Union ?' They 
said that the contest would be easy and brief if the 
old Government would use force ; but to manifest that 
strength, which it possessed, w^ould cause a change in 
all the seceded states, and that the greater number 
w^ould be found loyal to Lincoln. In all and every 
thing they have asserted and done, they have been 
woefully deceived and frustrated." 

" Yes, 'tis true," said Colonel F , " they are now 

beginning to leel, and we to understand, the sage 
remark of Solon — ' It would have been easier for us to 
repress the advances of tyi-anny and have prevented its 
establishment, but now that it is established and grown 
to some height it vnll be more glorious to demolish it ;' 
and most valiantly have our brave soldiers acted upon 
his words. Yes, our Beam-egard has won a name than 
which there are none brighter. With Beam-egard in 
the field and Jef Davis in the presidential chair, sup- 
ported by such men as Stephens, &c., we may look 
forward to nought but success. Yes, w^e now- have a 
form of government, not an experiment of statesmen, 
but one which has proved to be the best ever inaugu- 
rated at the time, pruned of those errors, and improved 


by the addenda that were pointed out by the experience 
of nearly a century's test, and weeded and brought to 
still greater perfection by Jef Davis, our modern Pub- 
Hcola. Now let those of the North, whose extravagant 
conceits led them to believe in om* weakness, feel our 
strength, and whose proud boastings and vain exulta- 
tions unhorsed them at Bull Run and Manasses. Our 
foes' early victories in Western Virginia and in Missomi, 
seemed to sustain the complacent theories of sanguine 
Unionists, and they predicted a speedy annihilation of 
the 'rebel mob' (which term the London 'Times' 
gracefully appHes to both armies), but now then tone is 
changed to loud lamentations, and the prechctions of 
Webster and Seward are now about to be reahsed, 'that 
the great controlling power on this continent would 
ultimately be in the Mississippi valley.' Yes, looking to 
our portion of America, we view the Confederate States 
as the model republic of the world, possessed of every 
element of greatness and prosperity that can exist in a 
mundane Government. We are a strictly agricultural 
people, and will never cultivate commerce and manu- 
factures further than our own necessities require, hence 
we have common interest and aim. We have one and 
the same social system, that from its peculiar natiu^e 
unites us in feeling against surrounding powers, and 
cultivates that manly independence, boldness, and love 
of liberty which have ever distinguished the Southerner. 
We have a common heritage in the achievement of our 
freedom from political vassalage, and the laurels ^von 
and blood shed by our volunteers fighting side by 
side against the Northern foe, fully equal to that which 
almost alone caused Southern men to cling sorrowfully, 


yet tenaciously, to a Uiiion that had become for them 
an engine of injustice and oppression. AVe liave a com- 
pact and united territory, a common object, and a 
common destiny, and though we cannot say with the 
mother of Bresidas, should our Beauregard f dl ' that 
Lacedaemon could boast of many better men he,' yet 
there are other brave chieftains in our Confederacy who 
could lead us on to victoiy." 

Such were the sentiments and such the praise 
awarded to the chieftain whose triumph was complete 
over the invader. Yes, in their admiration and love of 
their general, the Southerners had been almost idolaters, 
a.nd in every house w^as found an image of the hero, 
and in every heart was enshrined his deeds of chivalry; 
but come with us to Yalambrosa, where, reader, you 
shall peruse the letter which Albert la Branche has 
placed in the hands of Miss Clifton, from her brother, 
who fought upon the renoAvned field of ]\Ianasses. 

" My dear Sister, 

" The great battle which was so long looked forward 
to, is fought, and the gi-and aiTay, with its streamhig 
flags and glistening bayonets, is now a defeated and chs- 
persed rabble. "We are in possession of the field, and I 
have seized the fii'st few moments of repose since the 
battle, to give you a brief account of om' gionous \nc- 

" The scene opened on a quiet Sabbath morning, 
but the red light of the sun had not more than dawned 
upon the rich tableaux of landscape, forest, and armed 
men, when the whole was obscured by the dense smoke 
of battle. A fierce and tenible conflict was kept up on 


both sides, and the storm of battle seemed only to 
animate and add strengtii to the Aveakest arm. Heavy 
losses were sustained on both sides, and our shattered 
colmnns fell baek more than once, under the enemy's 
terrific fire, but at last our retreat was arrested, and 
animated with heroic corn-age, we again dashed into the 
tliickest of the battle, and we rencAved the dreadful 
work of carnage. At tliis moment fell several of our 
most brilliant officers. The enemy bore hotly down 
upon us, and many brave hearts felt their hopes expiring, 
when Generals Beam-egard and Johnson appeared, and 
by their presence re-animated our flickering spirits. 
General Beauregard rode through the rank» with words 
of encom-agement, and urged his soldiers to the noble 
resolution of victory or death, to which they responded 
with cheers of 'Loug live our noble General Beam-e- 

" Now the fortune of the day seemed to change, 
and the enemy, who at one time deemed tliemsclves 
victorious, began to fall back precipitately, and the last 
charge made by General Beauregard sent them flying 
over the field, where, panic-stiicken, they fled towards 
Bull's Run. The rout now became general, and om- 
soldiers pursued the flying enemy for miles, but want of 
a cavalry force arrested the pm^suit. No language can 
describe the mad, the wild, insane flight of these cowardly 
bravadoes. In this disgraceful flight, hundreds of the 
wounded were crushed to death, and sights of thrilling 
agony met the eye everywhere. For ten miles the road 
over which the ruthless Vandal had marched with gay, 
floating, and unstained banners, and with confidence of 
ability to defeat the rebel, was strewed with the remains 


of the retreating foe, which in one day had all the 
magnificence of months' labour demolished and strewed 
upon the earth. We have won a glorious \^ctory, and 
though many are the bright names which Avill be en- 
slu-ined in the hearts of the nation, Beauregard must 
ever stand first, while those of Johnston, Early, Bee, 
Withers, Stuart, Kirby, Smith, and others will be 
none the less dear, while to those nameless heroes 
who fought so valorously, and who fell upon the goiy 
field, is due a nation's gratitude. The victory is ours, 
but dearly it was won, by the blood of some of our best 
and bravest, and though the miiversal joy is gi-eat, the 
inward soitow is not less so, and no loud bursts of 
triumph or enthusiasm escaped from the conquerors; 
no, it is a solemn, glorious achievement, and it is felt^ 
not spohen. We cannot forget the noble dead, and 
rejoicings would be ill-timed. But alas ! the scenes I 
witnessed when riding over the field on the morning 
after the battle, are almost too painful for description. 
There lay dead and dymg around our path, and our 
officers were going amongst them, doing all they could 
to reheve them. 

" Observing an elegant-looking man Mng in great 
agony, I went towards him, and tmTiing upon me a 
look of intense agony, he said ' Water !' I had none, 
but taking out a small bottle of brandy, I offered it to 
him, and placing it to his lips he swallowed some, which 
seemed to revive him. Being in great pain. Colonel 
F (who accompanied me, and who 'seems to be pos- 
sessed of more valour than heart), said, ' What brought 
you here to fight us ? This is the fate that awaits all 
om- foes.' 


"He turned his reproachful dying eyes upon him, 
and said, * Is tliis the place for such language ? ' 

"I felt my face crimson at the just rebuke, and 
T\ashed myself out of the company of such a heartless, 
soulless being. To our enemies in the field, and with 
arms in their hands, or compassing oiu injury in any 
respect, we cannot be too terrible. May Heaven guide 
every shot, and strengthen every blow aimed at such, 
and may every spy and traitor be brought to a just 
punishment. !May every battle-field be a Manasses, 
save in its martyrs, and may many Bethels witness as 
in the ancient days and of late, the presence of the 
Divine favour. But an enemy at our feet is no longer 
the target of a brave man's wrath ; the captive who 
asks for quarter, and he whose wounds appeal to our 
humanity, no magnanimous man will embitter the lot 
of such with rudeness or unkindness. It is a very safe 
tiling, no doubt, to reproach a helpless man. It is very 
easy to deliver lectures to him who is on his back, 
groaning under wounds. Alas ! how tiTie is the pro- 
verb, ' It is only the ass who spurs at the dead lion.' 
But, thank God, we have few such men, and no gene- 
rous spirit will (except from great inconsiderateness) 
thus violate the teacliings and the instincts of chivalry. 
AVe next passed to one w^ho was lying under a tree. 
His appearance and dress indicated high social position. 
By his side lay a beautiful sword, and a handkerchief 
was thrown over his face. I removed the covering, 
and I thought I had never beheld a more beautiful face. 
Calm he lay in death, with his dark locks falling over 
his high pale forehead, and his hands clasping a small 
book. Desiring to know something more of the person, 



I withdrew the book from the hands which clasped it so 
fondly to his breast, and on opening, perceived it was 
a small and very elegantly bound bible, while in the 
front was a photograph of a most beautiful woman, 
seemingly too young for a mother of one of his years 
(who was about twenty), but whose strong resemblance 
to the deceased led me to presume it was his mother or 
sister. In a beautiful hand was written on the fly-leaf, 

" To my son, A T , from liis devoted mother." 

" My son, remember thy Creator in the days of thy 
youth." Sadly I tm-ned from liim after placing in his 
hand the cherished souvenir^ and as I gazed down upon 
that inanimate form, I felt that the grave should bury 
every error, cover every defect, extinguish all resent- 
ment. From its tranquil mould should spiing none but 
fond regards and tender memories. Who can gaze 
upon the grave of even an enemy and not feel a throb 
of compmiction that he should ever have battled with 
the poor handful of earth that is lying before him ? 

"Many other heart-rending scenes met my view, 
and I must confess that I was not so callous as not to 
be affected by the sight. I tm-ned away, overwhelmed 
with feelings of sorrow and regTet. Yes, my dear 
sister, though bred in a militaiy school, I lack one trait 
of the solcher, that is, to be stony-hearted, and for this 
it requhes a man should not only be bred but born a 
soldier. I can never become insensible to the miseries 
of others. But I must draw my letter to a close, as 
doubtless the newspapers will give you a much better 
account of it than I can in so brief a space, and all I can 
say is to repeat that aU fought bravely. South Caro- 
lina's, Tennessee's, and Alabama's sons reaped laurels, 


and the liardy freemen of the Virginia mountains, who 
laiow nothing of the scientific rule of warfare, deserve 
a more lofty eulogy than could emanate from my pen, 
and wliich doubtless they will receive. The Missis- 
sipians, who fought with a reckless daring /Seize- 
him-Towser'-ferocity came in for their share of the 
glory of the day, and their renowned 'Bowie-Knife 
Fighters ' will long be remembered by those who wit- 
nessed what dreadful slaughter followed wherever they 
made their way. 

" These men, throwing away their muskets, met the 
Yankees hand to hand. The knives, with which they 
fought, were from 15 to 20 inches long, and were 
attached to a lasso some 4 feet in length, fastened round 
the wrist. They would plunge their knives by thro\Adng 
tliem in harpoon fashion through and through the bodies 
of then- antagonists, and then, with the ferocity of a 
tiger, jerk them out again, and repeat the experiment 
imtil they themselves were slain. As for Louisiana, it 
is unnecessary to say what her soldiers have accom- 
pKshed; all the troops sent fi'om that noble state are 
gallant specimens of soldiers, and well and nobly has 
Louisiana acted her part in this war ; and still her brave 
sons flock to the standard of their country. She can 
])oast some of the best soldiers in the field, and she 
has fiu'nished the Beauregard. 

" I am proud of my native State, and of my brave 
regiment, to whom possibly the journals may do more 
justice than I could. Victorious v^e have been, and are? 
and will continue to be, and say to Albert la Branche 
that while such lam-els are to be won, he should be in 
the arena. 

M 2 


" And now, farewell, while the sun of victory shines 
upon us, we must not forget to be wary, for oiu" am- 
bushed and coucliant foe is ready to spring upon us in its 
first eclipse. We must therefore be watchful and ready. 
" Affectionately your brother, 

"B. Clifton." 

" Yes," said Albert la Branche, " it is indeed time I 
were in the field, and I am heartily tired of a delay 
which prevents my being placed in some active position, 
where I can prove to my coimtry my devotion to its 
cause. I feel a contempt for myself, and yet it is not 
my fault, for I have in vain desu-ed a command, which 
would at once place me in active service. Yes, I must 
at once quit this life of inaction, and if not win laurels 
for myself, ^\dn them for my country. Yes," he said, 
and I feel that you will be the fii'st to bid ' Go where 
glory, waits thee.' " 

"Indeed, Albert, I wish to see you T^dn laurels, but I 
cannot say that I am Spartan sufficient to be the first 
who bids you go. I cannot say that I Avish it even ; it 
is only such natures as Miss de Yillerie's who can make 
such sacrifices, I am not equal to them." 

" My dear Cornie, then be mine, and go vrith. me, 
and though you cannot be beside me on the field, you 
will be near to cheer me in my hom'S of leisure. Come, 
darling, be mine, and let us be united now." 

She turned pale, and said, " Oh, Albert, you know 
not what you ask, or how I have di*eaded this hom\ ^ly 
mother vAW never consent to our union, though she has 
never said it. I feel that she vn]\ not jield to our 
wishes. My mother is, as you no doubt have often heard, 


a Northerner, and to that cause she chngs. My brother 
resigned his commission in the army, against her will ; 
he espoused the Southern cause against her will, and is 
now fightmg against her will. I have heard her" often 
say that she would never form a tie of any kind with a 
Southerner. Though my father is a Southerner, she will 
not yield to his ^vish to go into the army, and thus we 
are a disunited, unhappy family. I feel it is but natural 
for my mother to cling to her people, but oh ! why render 
us all miserable ? To my dear brother she had ceased 
to speak, and refused to bestow her blessing on liim the 
morning he left. I know that she will never consent to 
our miion." 

"Do not despair, my darhng, I shall speak to your 
mother on the subject ; but should she refuse, then, 
Cornie, what is your intention ?" 

She leaned her head on his shoulder, and placing her 
hand in his, looked up into his face and said, " Oh, dear 
Albert, what alternative remains ? ' 

" To be mine, darling, at all hazards." 

" Oh, tempt me not, I feel that happiness could not 
follow such an miion." 

" Then, dearest, we will not anticipate her refusal. 
Give me but your consent to ask her, and this evening- 
shall decide om* fate. Be it as you will, then ; I will seek 
an interview at once." 

Rising he summoned a servant, and said, " Say to 
Mrs. Clifton that I should be pleased to see her for a 
few moments." 

" Oh, Albert, I dread the result of this meeting," 
and saymg this she went out as Mrs. Clifton entered. 

Om- hero was by no means bashful, but as Mrs. Clifton 


appeared, his courage Altered. Rising and placing a 
chair for her, he at once entered upon the subject : 

" My dear Madam, my devoted attentions to your 
daughter have doubtless ere this aiTested your attention, 
and given you some idea of the pm-port of tliis inter- 
view, which is simply this, to demand in maniage the 
hand of her whom I love, and have loved since the 
moment of om- first meeting. I have the assurance that 
this affection is reciprocal, and have sought this inter- 
view with yoiu' daughter's consent; and now, dear 
^ladam, TN-ith yoiu- knowledge of my character, social 
position, etc., I await your answer, and ti-ust you vnW 
xie^v this matter favom-ably, so that at any moment 
I may leave ^\'ith my command." 

" Colonel la Branche," said Mrs. Clifton, and as she 
spoke she drew herself up to her full height, rising, and 
standing before him, "it is needless to state that I feel 
you are folly aware of my political views, and that I am 
not a Southerner, m birth, education, or feeling, in 
nought, sir, save my place of residence. I have no 
sympathy T\4th the cause of the South whatever, and 
let my husband's and children's feehngs be what they 
may, I can never be other than I was born — a loyal 
Unionist ; nor can I ever consent that my child should 
wed any save a fi'iend of that glorious banner imder 
which they, as well as their mother, first drew breath ; 
nor can child or fiiend of mine ever receive my benison 
who shall raise an arm agamst the standard of oiu' 
forefathers. These are my sentiments. Colonel la 
Branche, and furthermore I will add that if I could be 
base enough to peld her up to an enemy of the Union, 
I would not wish to confide her to one who is more 


worthy of her, and who is every way more estimable 
than Colonel la Branche, but whose misguided zeal in 
an unrighteous cause has placed a bamer to a union 
which, under other circumstances, miglit be the acme of 
any mother's fondest ambition. Colonel la Branche, it 
is needless to prolong this interview ; you have my 
irrevocable response, and I will have the honour to bid 
you good evening." 

She walked out of the room, and Albert la 
Branche, not wishing to convey in person the answer 
of Mrs. Clifton, took out a card, and wrote upon it a 
few words, which, after summoning the servant, he 
desired to be delivered to Miss Clifton, and then, leaving 
the house, he was soon on the road to the city. 

Miss Clifton was immediately requested to attend 
her mother, when upon entering, she threw herself into 
her mother's arms, saying, " Mother, dear mother, do 
not, oh ! do not blight my happiness for all eternity ; 
recall what you have said, and bestow your blessing on 
us both ; let not your devotion to the land of your birth 
destroy for ever the peace of all the loved and loving- 
inmates of our once happy home, and in blessing us 
may not your benediction be wafted to your darling son 
and my dear brother, whom you permitted to leave, 
perhaps for ever, without one kind adieu. Oh, my 
mother, you who are so noble, so beautiful, can you, oh ! 
will you, suffer the felicity of our home to be banished 
for aye, by the refusal of your gentle smiles, which of 
yore cast a halo over all, and everything upon which 
they fell. Mother, darling mother, restore the sunshine 
upon our household, which has so long been eclipsed by 
the clouds of disunion which exist amongst us." 


Mrs. Clifton gently raised her daughter, and, clasping 
her arms around her, kissed her pale brow, and stroked 
her sunny ringlets as she said — " My daughter, the cause 
which was strong enough to sustain me in parting with 
one of my idols will sustain me in this trying hour. 
Darling, ask life, or anything of yom- mother, and all 
she has will be bestowed freely on you, but to prove 
recreant to the Union — that Union which my forefathers 
bled for and assisted m forming — I will never, my child, 
never ; and, my child, let us proceed to the termination 
of this sad interview, which is now necessary, but 
which, by your consent and submission to my will, need 
never be renewed again. Then, my daughter, promise 
me faithfully that you ^nl\ never again suffer Colonel 
la Branche to approach you, and that by word, verbal 
or written, you will not encourage his addresses. 
Avoid him as you would a mortal enemy, and should 
you meet him, remember, it would be the roseleaf on 
the surface of my already brimming cup if you were ever 
to disobey my last injunction ; and were I dead, darhng, 
remember that from the portals of the tomb my voice 
would still proclaim the existence of that immeasurable 
abyss which must for ever separate yom'self and Colonel 
la Branche " 

" Oh, mother ! mother !" shrieked the wretijhed girl, 
*'thisA\dll kill me — unsay it, mother dearest, or your 
poor already blighted blossom must perish by the same 
dreadful fiat that separates Albert la Branche and 

" Courage, Cornie, courage ; you vnl\, I trust, soon 
overcome -this unworthy affection and be yet happy in 
the love of one Avhose addresses yom- mother can sane- 


tion ; and now, dearest, give me your promise that you 
will act in accordance with my wishes." 

As she said this, Mrs. Chfton fondly imprinted a kiss 
upon her daughter's marble brow. 

Summoning all her courage as for a mighty effort, 
Miss Clifton said, " My mother, you who gave me Hfe 
and being, have the right, I presume, to take it from 
me Avhen you will ; I obey you, but when all that is 
mortal is laid in the grave of your daughter, think then 
in that hour, dear mother, that you could have bid me 
live for love and thee, and that though Cornie Clifton 
may have loved deeply, fondly — ay, wildly, her duty 
of obedience to an earthly parent, according to the laws 
of God, triumphed over all other feelings, and in this 
thought, dear mother, you may find a solace for yom* grief 
for though a stern parent, I know you love your cliild." 
Raising her mother's hand, she kissed it and pressed it 
to her heart, then silently left the room and proceeded 
towards her father's study to imprint the wonted kiss 
upon his brow, and receive his nightly benediction, 
Avhich he never failed to accord her. 

Oh ! how wildly, tumultuously, palpitated poor 
Cornie's heart as she hesitatmgly drcAv near the door ! 
with what keen anguish did she stop to press her hands 
upon her bosom, endeavouring to arrest its wild throb- 
bings ! She leaned, oh ! how painfully, against the door 
before entering, but an almost preternatural fortitude 
seizing her at this moment, as it often does at the crisis 
of the most trying ordeals, she regained her composure, 
and tapping gently at the door, she entered. She drew 
an ottoman beside him, and taking one hand in hers, she 
threw the other arm round his neck, and drawing his 


head down, the simny curls of eighteen summers 
mingled theu hues 'v\ath the silver locks of sixty winters. 

" My dear father, will nothing dissipate the sombre 
shadow which darkens your otherwise glorious brow ? 
Can your own Cornie do aught to dispel the gloom 
Avhich seems to surround her dear, dear father ?" 

" No, darling, the shadow is on our hearthstone, and 
the reflection falls here ;" and pressing one hand to his 
heart, he bowed his head upon the other, and a large 
tear-ch'op fell upon his daughter s hair and rested there 
like a diamond upon golden sands ; " but," he continued, 
" let not this gloom take possession of your biioyant 
soul ; and now, darling, forget my too inconsiderate 
speech and everything, my beloved, only how I ever, 
and shall ever, study yoiu happiness." Pressing a kiss, 
warm and fervent, on her brow, and resting his hands 
upon her head as she knelt to receive his blessing, 
he spoke his gentle " good night." Raising her he led 
her to the door, and as she passed out he repeated liis 
benisons upon his lovely child. 

Miss Clifton sped to her chamber. She cast herself 
upon a couch, and the pent-up stream of grief then 
burst its bonds, and threatened to destroy the channel 
through which it flowed. She rose from the couch, 
and wildly throwing herself upon her knees, she called 
on God to strengthen her in tliis her bitter woe. She 
gave vent to low and passionate wailings, and mco- 
herent words of agony. Alas I it was sad, sad indeed, 
to tliink that one of her years, who was but just verging 
on the bloom of womanhood, and Avhen the world 
should be expanchng before her as a lovely garden full 
of roses and lilit-s — Oh, it was sad indeed, that one 


like her sliould experience such bitter, bitter deso- 
lation ; and yet, poor Cornie, thy cup Avas but half filled 
at this hour. To her father, whose cup was already 
brimming, she could not flee, and thus she sought for 
days to conceal the canker gnawing at her heart. But, 
alas ! nature at last sank under this meffectual effort, 
and as she lay upon her bed of grief, her palHd face in 
vain appealing to her mother, who watched and nursed 
her kindly, but sternly repelled every approach to that 
subject which alone occupied the thoughts of the suf- 
ferer as she lay before her. Not that Mrs. Chfton was a 
hard-hearted woman, but she had schooled herself for 
this trial, and her resolve was irrevocable. Next to 
her God and husband, she loved her country, and 
though she married a Southern planter, her soul ab- 
horred the system of slaveiy, and ever her thoughts 
returned to the green fields of her New England home, 
where free labour tilled the soil and garnered the grain ; 
and though her children were born and bred in the 
South, her deep-rooted principles could never be eradi- 
cated. In her early wedded days she had often sought, 
for her husband's sake (whom she deeply and ardently 
loved), to mould her ideas to suit his tastes, but alas ! 
in vain, the teachings, the inculcations, and preju- 
dices of childhood and youth triumphed over the expe- 
rience of maturer years, and at the age of forty, when 
her home should have been the harbour of repose for 
herself and all she loved from the storms of Kfe, she had 
made it the maelstrome of affliction, to which she beheld 
every loved object approaching, and calmly she sat to 
see them drawn into its eddying depths. Oh, woman, 
what a fearful responsibility is yours! Yours is the 


high and holy mission to plant the seed, and rear the 
tender flower. If thorns or thistles enter, thine is the 
hand to pluck them from amidst your blossoms. If 
they wither, bear evil fi-uit, or perish, thine is the fault. 
Nourish them kindly, and if thou see'st the worm at the 
roots, or in the heart, fear not to strike and kill, though 
in doing so the blossom or root should even perish, but 
so long as one green, unblighted branch remains, you 
T\all, with tender care, be able to produce roses of richest 
fragrance and lovely dye ; but should but one decayed 
remam, if not lopped off, 'twill soon spread to other and 
fafrer parts of your cherished plant, until all becomes 
diseased, and dies. Yes, woman's is the proud mission. 
To her is given the charge of man, in childhood, youth, 
and age ; and though she be allowed no voice in the 
council of a nation (as the "woman's right" society 
would desire), does not her voice ring loud and clear in 
the Senate Chamber, in the pulpit, on the battle-field, 
and through the press, by the medium of husbands, 
fathers, sons, and brothers? Yes, ah, yes, and be the 
voice of man raised where, or when it will, for good or 
evil, rest assm-ed it is his mother's teachings. We crave 
no greater freedom. Man owes to God and woman his 
existence^ his principles, and his education. From the 
cradle to the grave she is by his side as his ministering 
angel, no less needed in the tottering steps of childhood 
than in those of old age. Women, fair countrywomen, 
women of every nation, would you seek a nobler sphere? 
Xo, ten thousand times no ; it were selfish indeed to 
desire all the glory of life, when we possess the greater 
portion, for man is but the medium of woman's ideas and 
projects, and she 2)lans Avhile he achieves. Thus, alike in 


the cottage and the palace— woman rules her lord: and 
beautifully has Longfellow expressed this unseen, silent 
influence, " As the bow unto the cord is, so the man 
unto the woman." These should be congenial in all 
sentiments, and without this unison of feehng no felicity 
can accrue from mamage. In Mrs. Clifton was ex- 
emphfied the truth of this. Clinging to false ideas, 
which neither reason nor time could subvert, she gazed 
coldly upon the ruin of her fast fleeting happiness, ready 
and mlling to sacrifice all she held dear to that false 
idol who sat enthroned in her heart, and whose name is 

" My daughter," said Mrs. Chfton, " Miss de Yillerie 
will soon be here ; but as she has been so much engaged 
recently since the battle of Manasses in her various 
patriotic pursuits, I fear it will be trespassing on her kind- 
ness to invite her to be the companion of an invahd." 

" Oh no, dearest mother, I feel assured she vnW. con- 
sider it no importunate demand to come to me. Oh ! 
mother, you know not her generous nature ; but, hst, 
she comes, dearest mother. I hear her tread." 

Throwing open the door of the chamber, the servant 
ushered ]\Iadame de Breuil and Miss de Villerie into the 
presence of mother and daughter, and the two young 
friends were soon clasped in a warm embrace, while 
tears welled from Miss de Villerie's eyes, as she gazed 
on the pale face of her sad friend. 

" Oh, Cornie, darhng, why did you not inform me 
earher of your illness, and I should have ere this wooed 
you from this close chamber," and again she pressed her 
friend to her bosom, while Cornie drooped her radiant 
head upon Natalie's breast, and wept. 


^Irs. Clifton and Madame de Breuil soon witlidreTV, ! 

and Miss de Yillerie dii-ecting the servant to draw the j 

couch towards the western oriel, she said, as she placed 1 
the cushions gently, and laid her friend's fi-ail form upon 

them, " Come, chere Comie, unbm-den your giiefs to me, i 

if you will, and here, while gazuig out upon rich flowers, ; 

birds, lake, and bower, take corn-age and remember, yon ; 

brilliant orb, which is just descending, sets only to rise ; 
brighter on the moiTow." 



" Weeping for thee, my love, through the long day, 
Lonely and wearily life wears away. 
Weeping for thee, my love, through the long night, 
No rest in darkness, no joy in light ! 
Nought left but memory, whose dreary tread 
Sounds through this ruin'd heart, where all lies dead — 
Wakening the echoes of joy long fled !" 

With hand clasped in hand, those two friends whiled 
the evening hours away ; and between sobs and bitter 
tears did IMiss Chfton nnfokl to Miss de Yillerie her 
woes, and ended with these words — "Oh, dearest Natalie, 
yon wdio seem to be above the weakness of the flesh, 
impart to me, hi this trying moment, somewhat of 
your lofty fortitude ; endow me with a portion of your 
philosophic natm-e to face this blasting simoon of 
affliction which threatens to destroy both me and mine. 
Oh, Natahe, would that, like you, I could give up, for 
the sake of duty, what you relinquished so nobly for 
country ; but, Natalie, within me rages a fearful storm, 
and, amid the muffled din, Albert's voice appeals to me 
not to desert him ; then counsel, aid, and guide me, 
dearest friend, in the true path, be it for weal or woe," 
and throwing herself on the bosom of Miss de Villerie, 
Miss Clifton wept bitterly. 


IMiss de Villerie's own bosom was torn and rent with 
convulsive sobs, and though she endeavoured to soothe 
her friend by sisterly caresses, it seemed as though her 
own heart was bursting beneath its weight of agony ; 
langTiage seemed a mockery, as a source to convey 
consolation ; but the wildest storms must cease, and, 
casting herself back on her couch, ]\Iiss Clifton closed 
her eyes, while the last tears from giief's fountain were 
seen welling to her eyes, slowly overflowing their fringed 
marg-ins, and coursing down her wan cheeks. 

Miss de Villerie gazed upon her fi'iend, and there 
seemed an inward struggle of contenchng feelings, 
which appeared visible in her actions* She slowly drew 
forth from the folds of her dress a note, and placing it 
in the hands of Miss Clifton, said, " Cornie, darling, 
forgive me if, ere this, I have not gladdened your heart 
by the sight and perusal of this missive, which Albert 
la Branche entrusted me with for you. Read it, and 
may its contents be more soothing than my poor 
expressions of condolence ; and forgive me if I witliheld 
it ; I feared to interfere, dear Cornie, in matters between 
mother and daughter, but your grief has reopened the 
wounds in my own heart, which bleeds for you, my 
sweet friend, from every pore. God gTant you gi'ace to 
bear your soitows like a Christian and as a woman, and 
rest assured, that He who permitteth not a spaiTow to 
fall to the gTound without His will, vnll at last diy your 

Miss Clifton seized the note, and tremblingly broke 
the seal, then kissing it, she was about to read it, when 
she hesitatingly laid it down beside her, as she said, 


^'Oli, I fear to read it; I fear that Albert's pride has 
abandoned me to my fate, and tliat my mother has 
separated us for ever. Oh, Natchi, my friend, my heart 
sinks within me, when I think of the possible contents 
of this note, but I Avill read it, and learn to bear my 
sorrows." Once more pressing it to her lips, she tore 
it open, and her eyes glanced quickly over the page. 

"Beloved one, fear not, though, at present, our 
sky be clouded, the sunshine of a glorious love shall 
yet beam upon us in all its splendour. Yes, dearest, 
ere this reaches you, you will have, I presume, heard 
all from your mother s lijDS relative to our interview, 
whose issue was as you feared. But fear not, trust 
as implicitly in my love, as I do in yours, and all 
T\dll end, darling, as we desire. Love and trust me 
as you ever have, and I fear not that any earthly power 
shall part us. Yes, for the moment we are parted, and 
lieartless as it may seem to you, I have pledged my 
honour to your mother, that all communication between 
us, either verbal or written, shall cease, until she shall 
herself desire its renewal. I have hope, darling, and 
like Pandora's box, the lid of my heart has closed 
upon it, and there the blight spirit rests securely. 
Honour on my part, duty on yours, will prevent our 
meeting ; but the future, dearest, is before us, and but 
a silver veil intervenes, through which I view, with the 
soul's eye, a happy, peaceful vision beyond. To our 
mutual friend I entrust this missive, and I ask for 
no response, save what she will bear me verbally. 
I ask not to wdn you, darling, otherwise than nobly — 



and now forewell. Love and trust mc, Cornie, and 
leave the rest with God. 

" Your own, 

"Albert la Braxche." 

" Oil, Albert, if I loved you before, I worship you 
now ; yes, I will ' love and trust thee,' and endeavoiu' 
to buoy up my fainting spirit until the happy hour 
wherein we shall meet to part no more. But, oh, 
Natchi, never, never vrAl my mother yield to our 
wishes. No, she would rather clothe me in my burial 
robes than bridal. Tell him, oh, say to him, my friend, 
that he cannot doubt my love, nor its depth. Say 
to him that I ^dll love on, even though it may be 
hopeless ; tell him his bright spirit has done well 
to fold her ^^dngs and rest in the chamber of his 
generous soul; had she appeared to me, she could 
have foimd no dwelling-place. 'Tis well he gave it 
admittance, for, hideed, we know not when the angel 
is at the door. 

" Yes, Albert, cherish your fair spirit of light, for 
mine is one of darkness ; but tell liim not, Natalie, that 
this is so, tell him only that I am happy, very happy, in 
all and everything, but the knowledge that we are to 
meet no more renders me miserable. Oh, strange incon- 
sistency ! Happy and unhappy too. What shall I say, 
clearest Natalie ? tell me, you who seem to scorn the 
weakness of a feeling which has overpowered me, tell 
me how to veil my words, that no foolish or mconsiderate 
expressions of mine shall add to his grief Render him 
insensible to mine, if possible, but oh ! assure him of my 
love, which no time nor circumstances shall ever change." 


She had raised herself fi'om the couch as she pro- 
ceeded, and as she said the last words, she thi'ew her- 
self back upon the pillow and wept silently. Gently 
Miss de Villerie smoothed her golden hau', and kindly 
she soothed her sad spirit. 

" Cornie," said Miss de Villerie, " have you appealed 
to your father in regard to this affair?" 

" Oh, no, chere Natalie, I would not for worlds broach 
the subject to him ; already his poor heart is bowed 
down with woe, and I would suffer my own to break 
rather than add one pang to his ; besides, Natalie, it 
would be a source of strife in our already unhappy home. 
My father would consent, while my mother would pro- 
nounce maledictions on me, more fearful to me than 
deatli, for oh ! what child can be happy in the know- 
ledge that she has disobeyed a parent, one who has 
cherished her from infancy, through thoughtless gM- 
hood, to perilous womanhood ? Oh no, my friend, though 
I love Albert dearly and well, I could not leave my 
home to follow him, T^dth the knowledge that I left that 
home blighted and desolate, nor would he \vish me to 
do so. No, he would scorn me, and justly too. A faith- 
less daughter will be a faithless wife, and never will such 
a union be productive of good. This is all we can do 
to repay a parent for their care, — to marry in accordance 
A^dth their desires, if at the altar we can feel we are not 
perjuring ourselves, but should we feel that by acting 
in accordance with our parents' wishes, we are acting- 
contrary with those of God, we should obey our Heavenly 
Parent's dictates, and never marry if we cannot feel 
that in doing so we obey the voice of our terrestial and 
celestial guardians." 

N 2 , 


" But may not your father prevail on your mother 
to sanction the union ?" 

" No, never, though she loves my father devotedly, 
she would not yield in this. I know her well, and she 
would not give up her prejudices for either love or 
reason. No, Natahe, to God and time I trust for happi- 
ness ; but I have a strange presentiment, which seems 
to warn me of evil." 

" Banish it then, darling, it is only yom* sad state of 
mind which conjures up these phantoms. In a few weeks 
more your mother will relent, and then, my dear friend, 
you will once again be joyous and glad. Come, dearest, 
rest yom' head upon my bosom, and gaze upon this 
gorgeous sunset. See, it seems to bid farewell to earth 
lingeringly, and to cast upon it its most lovely dyes and 
warmest embraces, though it passes from us to Hght 
another sphere ; so with you, dearest, your sun of sorrow 
is but setting for a joyfiil dawning. You, Cornie, are 
unlike me ; your gentle Christian spmt can school itself 
to resignation, through the Divine influence of religion, 
while I act simply from the sentiments of duty and 
honour. I feel that I am not one of the chosen, and yet at 
times, when all my senses seem slumbering, when I feel 
as it were dead to the world, there steals over my soul 
that subUme feeling of repose, which elevates me, and 
seems to bear me on its wings to the feet of Jesus, 
where oft I have hngered m meditation for hoiu-s. Oh, 
Cornie, m those moments I feel I have given up for 
ever the world and all its vanities ; that all, all is but a 
day-dream, compared to the glories of eternity. But 
soon the ch-eam is dispelled, and then the weary round 
of every-day life again commences, imtil in some sad 


moment my gentle guardian retm-ns, and seeks to lead 
me to the only true Fountain of peace. Oli, my friend, 
in those moments how ardently I have prayed to die ! 
How gladly would I leave this earth, and all its loved 
objects, to dwell for ever with Him ! With you it is 
never thus. You, my friend, seem ever ready to plume 
yoiu- vnngs for heaven, and to feel none of those 
relapses of conscience which must prove fatal in the 
end to the soul. At the feet of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph 
I have indeed poured forth my sorrow, and have risen 
from thence much happier. Alas ! I have felt that though 
they loved me, I was not their favoured child. Some 
natures, like gentle streams, wdnd slowly on, and empty 
into the great river of Hfe, and flow silently into the 
great ocean of eternity, without one single obstruction, 
while others com'se madly onward, bearing all before 
them, and hurl their seething waves into the vast waters. 
Such a natm-e as the latter is mine. Oh, Cornie, darhng, 
what would I not give to possess yom gentle spirit, to 
feel that, like you, I could 'wrap the drapery of my 
couch around me, and lie down to pleasant dreams! '" 

" Dearest Natalie, yom partiality does me more than 
justice. It is true that I have ever sought for bhss in 
the holy teachings of the Church. Nurtured in her 
bosom I am indeed her child, and alike in sorrow and in 
joy my spirit turns ever to her, and in her ear is poured 
forth the wail of afaiction or the glad tones of exulta- 
tion. To the shrine of Jesus I ever go, dearest Natahe, 
and in the arms of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I trust to 
breathe my latest sigh." 

" Yes, bhss is thine, Cornie, in your lovely faith you 
possess the alchymist's power, not to turn earth to gold 


but to tinge all objects -with its golden halo. Would it 
were mine to believe iiiiplicitly in all which the Church 
has taught and now teaches, but ever the tempter 
Incredulity whispers ' believe not,' and in doubt I turn 
from all that gives to religion its charm, and yet I still 
pursue this Protean shadow which treacherously melts 
from my grasp and leaves my mental as well as physical 
faculties prostrated." ' 

" Ah, dearest Xatalie, if you are the true and sincere 
lover and follower of Jesus, the more doubts and con- 
flicts ^ith Satan here would but more surely lead you 
to that more bright immortal existence hereafter. 
Beyond the dark and dying struggle man will be for 
ever and completely free. The grave is the spot where 
he will lay down his weaknesses, his desires, soitows, 
and sins, that he may rise to a new and bright existence 
in the realms of everlasting day. This glorious hope of 
finally being ' made alive in Christ ' is the only true and 
inexhaustible fountain of happiness on earth. Tm-n to 
it, darling friend, diink deep of its waters ; it is acces- 
sible to all. All Avho taste of its sparkling waters are 
substantially free and equal. AVe are all journeying to 
the celestial world, where happiness unalloyed will be 
our portion, where the ties of love and fi'iendship are 
indissoluble, whose bright and enduring realities ^\ill 
never be dimmed by the clouds of sin or affliction." 

" You, Cornie, are one of the few who were born in 
the knowledge of Christ, and who seem to possess that 
mystic comprehension of the great (and to me incom- 
prehensible) works of the UnknoT\Ti. I admii'e the 
works of the Great Being, while you seem to under- 
stand their uses.'' 


" Ah, Natalie, God has given all the heart to love 
him if not the spirit to know him. Smely you, possessed 
of so glorious an intellect, do not feel your comprehen- 
sion fail on this subject alone ?" 

"Yes, Cornie, religion alone to me is a mystery 
which I fain would solve ; I believe in a God, I believe 
in the apostolical succession, and many other sublime 
articles of our fliith, but, oh ! Cornie, there are many, 
very many, pious doctiines that have been handed down 
by tradition at which I am perplexed and doubting. 
My religion is that of the heart alone, I know none 
other. If to belong to a clnnch be to believe all it 
teaches, then I must say I am of no particular creed, 
though bowing at the altar of Catholicism." 

Thus sped the evening hours, and Miss de Villerie 
sought in such converse to soothe the mind of her 
unhappy friend, and when she arose to leave she was 
repaid in the quiet and peaceful expression of her 
friend's angelic face as she whispered, " Yes, dearest 
friend, tell him I am happy, that if I were not previously, 
your visit has made me so." 

Madame de Breuil and Mrs. Clifton entered, and the 
former bidding an affectionate adieu to Miss Clifton, 
5aid, " My dear, we trust to see you soon at Rosale, and 
ilso we hope for your assistance, as we are getting up 
tableaux for the benefit of the soldiers, and we are 
anxious you should take part in them." 

A servant entermg, handed to Miss Clifton a 

" Stay, my dear fi-iends, and learn the news. This 
is from Beverley, and bears the postmark ' Columbia.' 
Be seated, pray, and list to the tidings." 


Coldly Mrs. Clifton rose, and excusing herself, left 
the room, wliile Miss CHfton, too feeble to read, placed 
the letter in ^liss de Villerie's hand, who proceeded at 
once to read : — 

" Darling Sister, 

" Since my letter of the loth ult., there has been 
fought a great battle, and our arms have won a brilHant 
victory. Ere dawn on the morning of the 7th inst., 
General Polk was informed that the enemy was under 
command of General Grant, and were prepared for an 
attack at the small village of Belmont, on the ]\Iissouri 
shore. General Pillow was ordered to cross at once 
with four of his regiments, to the assistance of Colonel 
Yappen, who was stationed at Belmont, No sooner 
had om- men got into position than the conflict opened. 
We were, as usual, greatly outnumbered, and there 
were sufficient of the enemy to have completely van- 
quished us, had their valour been equal to their hate. 
Again and again, were attempts made by the enemy's 
infantry to flank both wings of om* army, but the at- 
tempts on the right were defeated by the galling fii-e 
kept up by the 13th Arkansas and 9th Tennessee, com- 
manded by the brave Colonel Russell, brigade com- 
mander. That on the left proved ineffectual througli 
the gallant conduct of Major Beltzhoover, whose bat- 
tery belched forth destructive fire. Firm and unbroken 
stood these wings for hours, but at last the centre, 
being greatly exposed, began to fiilter, as Colonels Ball, 
Wright, and Beltzhoover, almost at the same moment, 
reported themselves out of ammmiition. The enemy's 
force now boldly advancing into the open field, General 


Pillow ordered the line to use the bayonet. The charge 
was valiantly made by oiu' men, and soon the enemy 
sought t!ie forest, but unbroken and steadily, not a line 
being broken, keeping up all the while a heavy firing, 
and being supported by a large reserve, which soon 
sent us retreating before them. We now desponded of 
victory, and General Pillow ordered the whole line to 
fall back to the river bank. In this movement the line 
lost all order, and they reached the river bank more 
like a dispersed and panic-stricken mob. tlowever, the 
loyal hearts took courage witli the hope of reinforce- 
ments, and at the very moment when PilloAv reached 
the river, hopeless, and, as he himself believed, defeated, 
there arrived fresh troops under command of Colonel 
Marks, which were ordered over to the assistance of 
General Pillow by General Polk. 

" Arriving at the scene of strife, and seehig his men 
mowed down like chaff, Colonel Marks ordered his men 
to retreat, saying, ' Boys, we shall all be cut to pieces,' 
when Lieutenant-Colonel Barrow rode up and exclaimed, 
' No, no, never. We can at least cut our Avay to the 
river, and come on, my brave boys, if we have to die, I 
can teach you how as icell as any one else^ and seizmg 
the command from Colonel Marks, who seemed paralysed 
with fear, and waving his sword, he dashed into the 
thickest of the strife. To this bold and courageous 
act are we indebted for the great victory of Belmont ; 
the flank movement which gained the day, and turned 
the tide of battle in our favour, was made upon this 
nble officer's own judgment and responsibility. Too 
much eulogy cannot be awarded him, and m after days, 
as now, he must ever be regarded as the Hero of Bel- 


MOXT. On historj^'s page this action ^vill scintillate with 
an undying brilliancy. This was a moment that tried 
men's souls, and he was found equal to the emergency ; 
one of the veterans of Florida and Mexico lost his 
laurels on the field of Belmont, while they were trans- 
feiTed from liis brow to that of the modern Caractacus. 
But, the foe vanquished, he modestly placed himself 
under the command of his senior, though less worthy, 
officer. Modest and retiring, he seems to seek no fame 
save the shedding of liis blood for his country, and when 
the din and struggle of battle were over, and he sought 
his tent once more, there arose along the lines a deafen- 
ing shout of joy and admiration for the brave ' Hero of 
Belmont,' as the soldiers have styled Imn. By his kind 
and generous deeds tliis officer has endeared himself to 
the rough soldier, as well as the more refined officer. 
Suffice it to say, that his conduct was worthy of more 
praise than my poor pen can award him, and in the 
hearts of those who fought under him on that day will 
ever live the name of tliis gallant man. This is one 
of the few cases which have proven that it does not 
require a military education to form the wamor. The 
effect of this movement was the dismay and ffight of 
the enemy, who were soon seen pressing to reach then- 
boats. General Polk ordered the pursuit, and the rem- 
nant of the Federal army retreated in their boats, and 
they steamed through an avenue of fire, (which was 
formed by the sharpshooters,) and up the river for more 
than a mile. 

" The dead and wounded lay everywhere, and when 
we sought the battle-gromid to gaze upon the dead, our 
eyes rested upon the noble form of the elegant and 


brave Major Edward Butler, avIio had fallen in the 
first charge of his regiment, the 11th La. He was 
borne to the headquarters of General Polk, and there 
breathed his last. ' Tell my father, mother, and sisters, 
that L died as a soldier should die, and as became 
a Butler to die,' he said to General Polk. Peace 
to his slumbers ! A warrior's wreath, and a warrior's 
grave are his! ^lany brave men fell, but there were 
none more gallant than he. A gentleman in every 
sense, he won the esteem and admiration of all, and 
there were but few exceptions, save where his evident 
superiority excited their envy. As for myself, dear 
Sister, it ^^dll suffice you to learn that I escaped imin- 
jured, though I was everywhere surrounded by the 
missiles of destruction. Oh ! my dear Sister, you cannot 
conceive the horrors of this war. Mercy seems to have 
fled from us for ever, and war, in all its dread signifi- 
cance, we have surely. Yet it is but just we should 
shoAv no mercy, but it is only on the field of battle that 
we neither grant nor ask for quarter. While I have 
seen these Yankee soldiers thrust their swords through 
our wounded and sick men, ay, even in the agonies of 
death. The vindictiveness of these Yankee hirelings 
know no bounds, and indeed we must prepare for the 
worst, for long and bloody will be the contest. Craven- 
hearted indeed must be the man styling himself North- 
erner, who would consent to remain one moment under 
such a Government. The tender mercies of the wicked 
are cruel. The ravages and devastations of Attilla 
the Hmi, the fanatical rage of Omar, the Turks' oppres- 
sion, the Sepoys' revenge, have been humane and 
charitable compared with the conduct of these hyenas. 


AVe can now have some conception of how terrible the 
mahgnities of our foes would be, were their capacity 
for e\il in proportion to their malignity, which exceeds 
anything eyer known Or heard of. But the arch-fiend 
is chained in darkness, and thus powerless ; so it is 
Avith human beings. In the goodness of Providence 
those who surrender themselves to the dark passions 
of then- natin-e are doomed to blindness and impotence. 
"When we look at the results that have been achieved 
by the South, in spite of the incalculable disadvantages 
gro^dng out of the fact that we have been cut off from 
the commerce of the world, and forced to depend almost 
solely upon our undeveloped and other^^-ise limited 
resources, I confess that I am astonished at the might 
and prowess of an infant nation that has thus grappled 
successfully ^^th a powerful antagonist whose gigantic 
streng-th, humanly speaking, should have ci-ushed us 
long ago. Hence no wonder that the sages of the North 
laughed to scorn the first premonitions made by the 
South to establish and defend herself as a distinct 
Government among the nations of the earth. They 
saw our weakness, more than we did ourselves, for we 
w^ere in a degree blinded by that mysterious ' Divinity 
which shapes our ends, rough hew them as we may.' 
Seventy- five thousand men were thought, at first, 
amply sufficient to put do^m the rebelhon, and at that 
time it did seem to be a foiTaidable army, especially 
when panoplied so magnificently, and marching under 
the prest'/ge of a flag tliat had never been known to 
trail in the dust of defeat. But time has proved thd 
insufficiency of this army, and then five hundred thousand 
were added to them. Strange to say, this also proved 


too small to overcome the ' little rebellion ' which had 
been sneered at as a ' ninety days affair,' at which no 
one should be alarmed. They still call for more troops, 
and soon they will be sent in millions instead of 
thousands. Thus far the victory has been ours. We 
have foiled and defeated the enemy in almost every 
engagement. The sympathies of the European world 
have been stu'red in our behalf, and tributes of praise 
are being showered upon us from every direction. In 
view of these facts, the future possesses nothing in 
reserve to discourage us. The finger of Providence has 
traced in the events of the past sufficient to indicate 
that we are yet to be free. Our situation m Kentucky is 
one of weakness at present, though the occupation of 
a portion of it is of great and imminent necessity for our 
own benefit, and for her own. By menacing Cincinnati 
and the Northern shore of the Ohio, we can effectually 
checkmate all further raids into Western Virginia or 
Missomi, and, at the same time, remove the fear of 
trouble in East Tenessee ; Kentucky is decidedly 
Southern, and the assumed powerful position on the 
part of the Union party was, from the first, a mere 
farce. It was but a hypocritical scheme, conceived by 
her designing and disappointed politicians of the stamp 
of those who would ' rather reign in hell than serve in 
Heaven,' such men as Magoffin, Wickliffe, Holt, and 
others to betray then- State into the hands of the aboli- 
tion oligarchy. But we have all the military talent of 
the State with us, Buckner, Smith, Williams, Marshall, 
Breckenridge, Hanson, and others who have seen 
service, and who are prepared to marshal their hosts 
aromid our standard. All are with us save the Tory, 


Rousseau, who is too dastardly to be a Soutlieni, and 
too little souled to be a great man. But enough, 
the once proud and lofty State of Kentucky has 
been doubly obscured and humiliated. She was refused 
even the ignoble privilege of wearing the gilded 
chain of prosperous servitude, which her demagogue 
statesmen sought to enchain her with. She is in the 
midst of a civil warfare, so cruel and sanguinary, that by 
the side of its prodigious hoiTors, the cruel troubles in 
other States appear cold and tame. The unrelenting 
system of persecution of Secessionists has begun, 
domiciliary visits are being made, and midnight arrests 
incessantly repay these mild neutral people for their 
servility and baseness. It is hard that it should ' rain 
on the just and unjust alike.' Farewell, dear sister. To 
father and mother remember me affectionately, and to 
our kind fi'iends at Rosale ; I know not when you t\t11 
hear fi-om me again, as I anticipate a transfer to Fort 
Donelson. In the meantime rest assm-ed of my safety, 
and of my unchanging love." 

" What glorious news, dearest Cornie ! This should 
be all-sufficient to cause you to rouse yoiuself and 
assist us in oiu- work of love. Say to Beverley when 
you next wiHq that I trust every battle-field may be a 
Belmont for the Federals, and may lie live to be the 

" Ah ! my dear fiiend, you cannot conceive the dark 
forebodings that rise ^\dthin me and before me, when- 
ever I think of my darling brother. I know not what 
to think, but I feel that 'his hour is at hand,' and 
when I think, too, that he will perhaps die far, far from 
either friends or relatives, it almost plu-ensies me." 


"You should not, my dear girl, encourage sucli 
gloomy fancies," said Madame de Breuil, " I trust I shall 
see you soon at oiu' home, and this delightful weather, 
methinks, should alone be sufficient to call you forth 
from your chamber. We are revelling in all the 
delights of a most lovely Indian summer, and the 
gossamer floats around each object, reminding one 
forcibly of beauty in tears. A dashing ride, sur le borcl 
du Mississippi^ would dissipate your sombre pensees.'' 

"■ Miss Clarendon and Natalie, together with the 
Judge, had a most charming ride on the coast, and were 
joined by Madame Bienvenu and Lord St. Leonard, who 
it is said will soon bear our bewitching friend to his Cale- 
donian home. Madame Charlotte Levy, report says, has 
received the order for her trousseau, and I have under- 
stood that she is to be married in the morning, and start 
at once for Europe. I rallied her somewhat a few days 
ago, and I must say she did not deny the charge. We 
must all be on the qui vive for a card. So adieu, and 
banish from yom- mind those gloomy reflections, and be 
yourself once agam. Allans, Natalie." 

Miss de Villerie clasped her arms around her friend, 
and gently pressed her to her breast, whilst she kissed 
her pale cheeks, whispering softly, " Be of good 
cheer, chere Cornie, to every cloud there is a silver 

Madame de Breuil and Miss de Villerie, after having 
sought Mrs. Clifton in her boudofr, made their adieus, 
and seating themselves in their equipage, were rapidly 
driven home. On entering the house, Madame de 
Breuil and Miss de Villerie were agreeably surprised 
to find the drawing-rooms filled with guests from the 


city, whom the bracing air of a November morning called 
forth, "to drive dull care away." 

" Ah, chere Natalie, we are glad to welcome you to 
om- cux-le. Give us an idea for killing time. Here are 
we, assembled in council to decide upon the most humane 
means of disposing of this gray haired veteran, and be 
it resolved that he is to meet with an agreeable and 
gentle death. Let us croA^^l him ^\dth garlands, then, 
and let some fair ' Undine' be the executioner of tliis 
most unldnd Su' Huldibrand." 

" Ladies," said Judge de Breuil, " if this is to be di'a- 
matised, I shall not object to Sir Huldibrand's role. Such 
a death were ecstasy indeed. I fear, however, I shall 
not find an Undine to perform the part. By the way, 
speaking on the subject of the ch-ama, ladies, reminds 
me of our tableaux ; I presume you are all prepared to 
enact your parts ?" 

" Assuredly," they all cried, " but what are we to do ? 
Comie Clifton is an invalid, and if she is unable to lend 
her graceful person to the scene, half the beauty ^\t.11 
be lost." 

" Ladies, 1 have just retm-ned fi'om Colonel Clifton's, 
and I have hopes of the appearance of that yomig lady 
on the occasion of om- tableaux. She has been quite ill, 
but a few days in the society of her companions vnW. 
restore her to health and animation. But, laches, while 
we discuss these matters, we forget the ' urn is hissmg 
on the board.' We t\411 enter the salle-a-manger if you 

Just at this moment the porter ushered m Monsieur 
la Branche. 


The company remained standing, while Judge de 
Breuil and Madame de Brenil received their guests, and 
then entering the hall, the scarlet curtains emblazoned 
with gold, which separated the various chambers, 
were suddenly parted in the centre, and caught up 
with golden tassels in festoons, displaying beyond it 
another superb apartment, with the lengthy and hos- 
pitable board glittering with plate and crystal, while 
epergnes of flowers were placed in the most enchanting 
manner around. Judge de Breuil, drawing off his 
glove, presented his hand to Madame Bienvenue, and 
led her to a seat, while Lord St. Leonard escorted 
Madame de Breuil. Oscar McAlva presented his hand 
to Miss Clarendon, and the other gentlemen doing lilvc- 
wise, the ladies were soon all seated. At the farther 
end of the table sat Miss de Villerie, and by her side 
Monsieur la Branche. 

Madame Bienvenue, as usual, was the life of the 
company. Toast after toast was proposed and drank, 
and Madame Bienvenue spoke of so many things 
and in that charming and peculiar manner (which to a 
pretty woman is invaluable, and which gives an interest 
even to trifles), that the Judge almost forgot his resolve 
of remaining a bachelor, and almost vowed to become a 
benedict, casting such liquid, love-lit glances at her, that 
Lord St. Leonard's hostile expression aroused him to a 
sense of honour and recollection of the state of afiairs. 
Amidst this scene. Miss de Yfllerie and Albert la Branche 
sat almost oblivious of the gaiety around them, and 
when all rose from the table and returned to the drawing- 
room, they were still in close converse, until courtesy 


admonished ]Miss de Yillerie to seek the presence of 
the guests, who had ordered their caniages, and were 

The ladies were speedily enveloped in their \\Tap- 
pings, and Judge de Breuil handed them to their 



" But lighter thought, and lighter song, 
Now woos the coming hours along ; 
For, mark, where smooth the herbage lies, 

Yon gay pavilion, curtain'd deep 
With silken folds, through which bright eyes, 

From time to time, are seen to peep ; 
While, twinkling lights, that to and fro 
Beneath those veils, like meteors go — 

Tell of some spells at work, and keep 
Young fancies chain'd in mute suspense, 
Watching what next may shine from thence. 
Nor long the pause ; by hands unseen 

That mystic curtain backward drew, 
And all, that late but shone between. 

In half-caught gleams now burst to view." 

Carriage after carnage rolled along the streets on the 

evening of the and the front of the Opera 

House was brilliantly illuminated, while crowds of ele- 
gantly attired ladies, and their attendant cavahers, 
entered the grand portal, and seated themselves in their 
respective seats, or boxes. All seemed in anxious ex- 
pectation, and as the cm'taui rose, a tableau of such 
marvellous beauty met the gaze, that the hum of voices 
ceased, and not a breath so faint as to waft the down 
from the dandehon could be heard or perceived in that 
vast assembly. 

The scene was that of " Miriam, the Prophetess, ex- 



lilting over the defeat of Pharoah and liis host." On a 
chiF overlooking the sea, as it were, stood ^liss de Vil- 
lerie, attired in a dark crimson kirtle, tiimnied with 
silver, while her rich black velvet boddice, hien decolfe, 
displayed her magnificent form, rounded and beautiful 
as ever — a gem of the Orient. Her hair in glossy, jetty 
braids, hung over her shoulders, and her arms were en- 
circled with jewels of every hue and description. From 
a crescent of flashing diamonds on her brow, fell a veil 
of silver tissue to her waist, and ^^ath her hands she held 
high above her head a cymbal, while her glowing 
cheeks, sparkling eyes, and parted hps, whose coral 
borders displayed the ghstening ivory with which 
her mouth was adorned, — spoke but too plainly the 
trimnph of her heart. In the background were seen 
a band of Je^dsh maidens ^-ith then timbrels, in the 
act of beginning their dance of ^dctoiy. A minute 
only, and the curtain dropped, to rise again upon the 
same scene, amidst thunders of applause. There in- 
deed she stood a very Muiam, for but a short while 
before had not "the horse and his rider" been overthrown 
when pm'suing her own people? Yes, in triumph 
she stood, darkly, grandly beautiful, and when the cur- 
tain fell upon the scene it was amidst a deafening burst 
of dehghted voices. ^^ Marjnifique !'' ''' Siiperbe ! '' were 
heard on eveiy side, and the picture spoke volumes to 
the sanguine. A few moments elapsed, and then the 
curtain arose upon a scene so enchantingly beautiful 
that language cannot even convey an idea. In a light 
shallop, whose silken sails were unfiu'led, stood Albert 
la Branche. The waves were about to envelop the 
fi-ail sheU, in which he stood like a minor Xeptune, and 


he was in tlie act of casting anchor. Far off on the 
shore stood Miss Chfton, despair pictured in every 
feature, her liands chisped, and eyes raised to Heaven. 
Her fleecy robe fell around her form like a cloud of 
ether, and her golden ringlets vied Avith the rays of 
morn, wliicli tlu-ew their mild beams over the scene. 
" Charmante r exclaimed one and all, and 'the curtain 
once agam fell, to rise upon very many other scenes of 
beauty and mterest. As the crowd arose to leave, 
music bm'st upon the ear, and died away in gentle 
cadences as the audience dispersed. On the morrow 
it w^as found that several thousand dollars were added 
to the accomit realised by the various exertions of the 
ladies, and this was the fruit of this amateur display of 
the elegance, grace, and beauty of la belle Creole. Many 
a night when the poor soldier slept on the cold damp 
earth, Avith " scarce a sentinel star in the sky above," 
would the fair images of these devoted women cheer 
the darkness and solitude aromid him. And is it not 
indeed gratifying to them who have left home and all 
its joys for the tented field to know and feel that they 
are not forgotten ? Is it not a solace for them to 
think that their friends' only pleasure and amusement 
consists in some endeavour of the kind to supply their 
wants ? In such acts have our women displayed their 
devotion to the poor soldier. Each day and hour wit- 
nessed fresh proofs of then devotion, and when next 
the fair ladies of the Crescent City met it was to propose 
a fair, to provide clothing for the soldiers. The Hotel 
St. Louis was chosen for the display of all goods or arti 
cleg sent for the use of the comitry, and there night 
after night were the fairest of the fair seen at then- 


tables, selling to the patriotic, or promenading the 
rooms, in order to pm'chase something to aid the sol- 
diers. Here was displayed self-sacrifice, and Miss de 
Yillerie was the first (amongst many) to go forward 
and place her jewels upon the altar of her country. 
She cast it into the general pm'se, and her §100,000 
set of jewellery served to clothe many a poor man, 
whose home was in the camp. Momentarily the com- 
mittee of the bazaar were receiving donations. Ladies 
sent to be sold, as an offering to theu' country, their 
carriages and horses, preferring to walk rather than to 
see then' soldiers deprived of comforts. The most rare ' 
and costly works of art w^ere here pm-chased, and one 
seemed to vie with the other in bestowing their most 
valuable articles on those who were defending their 
homes and fii'esides. Diamonds, pearls, cameos, mo- 
saics, and gems of all khids were sold here in profusion, 
all the wiUing sacrifices of the patriotic. 

On the closing night of the bazaar. Miss de Yillerie 
was seen promenading vni\i her friend Miss Clifton. 
They Avere followed through the room by a train of 
admii'ers and Miss de ViUerie was as usual the centre 
of attraction. 

Colonel E approached her and said, "^liss de 

Yillerie, what would I not give to possess that bunch of 
flowers in yom' belt ? I would give worlds for a spra}- 

" You shall have them, then, entne, but I shall 
not expect even one world for them. Are you willing, 
Colonel, to give my price ?" 

" Most certainly. Miss de Yillerie," he said, " anything 
I will give that I possess." 


" Gentlemen and ladies," said Miss de Villerie, 
"witness tliis sale. I resign herewith all right and 
title to the bunch of roses and geraniums which I hold 
in my hand for the sum of $10,000, which amoimt I 
bestow upon the institution for the benefit of the 
soldiers of om* State." 

" Bravo !" they all exclaimed, as, bowing low, she 
presented him the flowers. 

Whether he liked it or not we cannot say, but he 
bowed and accepted them. 

" Step this way. Colonel," said Miss de Villerie, " here 
is the office, and if you have no objection I will just take 
yom- note or order for the amomit, as we expect to close 
with this evening's work." 

With seemmg good^\dll he entered, and gave an 
order for the amount. As she came out she laughingly 
remarked — 

" I trust you will not think you have paid too dear 
for your whistle.^'* 

" Miss de Villerie," he answered, " I would not think 
twice the amount too much to give for a leaf even that 
you had handled." 

" As gallant as ever, Colonel ; you prove to me that 
the days of chivalry are not gone by." 

" Thank you," Miss de Villerie, " and permit me to 
reciprocate by sapng that you have proven that all the 
rare, noble, self-sacrificmg women did not end with the 

Miss Clifton promenaded the room mth the Hon. 

P S , and though she was seemingly gay, there 

was a pensive look about her which but added to her 
marvellous beauty. Many other lovely girls, as well as 


aged dames, sauntered tlii*ougb the apartments with 
then- attendant cavaHers, and all was life and animation. 
A splendid suj^per ended this affair ; and when a few 
days afterwards it Avas known that by tliis effort there 
were §300,000 realised, it thrilled the heart of many an 
honest soldier. 

The Mobilians were also deshous to prove their 
ardom- in this cause, and soon a few of the sister city 
were doing all in their power to rival the patriotism of 
"Les belles Creoles." 

I must not forget, however, to mention one of the 
noblest of all the efforts of the Southern people, viz., 
" The Free Market^ Too much cannot be said ui favom* 
of this institution and its benevolent conductors. To 
this institution many a brave soldier is indebl ed for the 
gratuitous support of his httle family, and on every 
Tuesday and Saturday did tliis mother of the people 
bestow with generous hand her gifts of food and cloth- 
ing to her needy children. Contributions flowed in from 
all quarters, and the sm-plus store of every home of 
affluence or ease was sent to this place, to be disposed 
of as the committee thought best. All here were treated 
impartially, and all alike received then allowance of 
whatever the market afforded. Steamers from the Belize 
and the upper portion of the Mississippi river, as high 
up as Memphis, each day amved laden M-ith meal, corn, 
sugar, rice, potatoes, molasses, and vegetables, as well 
also as delicacies for the invalids. Even the confec- 
tioners of the city contributed their mite, and many an 
infant sucked its first piece of candy fi'om the hand of 
this thoughtful mother. No mendicants were seen in 
the streets, and Plenty seemed to shower her gifts upon 
one and all. 


In the country or interior of tlie state (I speak espe- 
cially of Louisiana) this feeling was alike displayed. In 
the different parishes various methods of assistance were 
adopted, and in West Feliciana the most generous pro- 
vision was made for the destitute. The wife of each 
soldier was allowed |25 per month for her support, and 
$5 for each child, mitil it amounted to |50, when it 
ceased. She also was provided from the Free Market of 
the village of Bayou Sara, and by the neighbomdng 
planters, with everything she reqmred in the way of 

To give an idea of how these fair dames hved in the 
absence of their lords upon the field, I will just state 
here a remark which was made m the presence of a 
friend (by a poor woman of the village, whose husband 
was not a model father), and which was told to me, 
as I knew the woman. She said — "As for me, I never 
have lived so well in my life as since my husband 
left me, and for the sake of my childi-en, not self] I hope 
they may keep him where he is, for they have more use 
for him than I have." This remark did not proceed from 
want of affection, but from a mother's love for her 
cliilcben. Never were the poor happier, never did Want 
hang her head so low. In every home in the land 
Plenty smiled, though Bellona froivned. True, sadness 
was in the heart of many, but Hope, bright-winged 
Hope, stood by all her children in this moment of 
struggle. Each and every one looked to the glorious 
future, and each mother saw her son a hero, crowned 
with unfachng bay-wreaths. Fear entered, no hearts, 
and though the strong fleet of the enemy frowned in the 
gulf, they had not dared to venture near the forts. 


Shells wore sent into Forts Jackson and Phillip, and 
were rained upon the defenders by thousands. And 
what had this effected ? Nothing. Still our forts sent 
tlieii* fiery response to the invaders, and held them at 
bay. True, they succeeded in bui-ning the soldier's 
quarters and all their clothing, yet it mattered not so 
as they held the fort. 

News daily reached the city of the enemy's advance, 
but the evening edition would generally contradict the 
morning's statements. The mornmg jom-nal would 
exclaim " They come ! they come !" the evenmg's " They 
fly, they fly!" Newsmongers were abroad, of all de- 
scriptions and every variety of reports was afloat. 
However, thmgs were approaching a crisis. For nearly 
four months New Orleans had been threatened, and at 
Shiloh the forces on both sides were soon to be engaged 
m another terrible combat. But still the cry was " New 
Orleans cannot fall, nor shall noty The nearer the enemy 
approached, louder grew the voice of the people in pro- 
claimuig it impregnaUe. All was hope and valom\ 

About this time ]\Iiss Clifton was plunged in the 
deepest grief, as also her family. A hastily WTitten note 
of a friend had informed the family of the death of 
Beverley Clifton, whom he said was killed in a skirmish. 
It said no more, gi^^ng no particulars whatever, ^liss 
Chfton bowed once more her lovely head in soitow, and 
when summoned to her mother's apartment, it was to 
hear that mother rave madly for her loved and lost son, 
and to implore her pardon for the days of misery she 
had caused her. 

" Ah my daughter," she exclaimed, " it is too late 
now to say how I worshipped my beautiful son; it is too 


late now to say what agony was mine, Avlien I turned 
from him, and would not say farewell. It is too late, 
my darhng to shed the bitter tear when he is gone from 
my gaze for ever. Too late 1 too late ! I have darkened 
my home, but, dearest, hght shall shine for thee yet. 
False views, felse iDrejudices, and false pride have made 
me what I am, a curse to my family and self Oh, 
dearest, it was not heart, but judgment which erred, 
and God has stricken me, hut justly. Have I lost your 
love, too, as well as all things besides ? Have you 
become estranged, my own noble one ?" 

" Ah, mamma, you pain me even by such a suspicion. 
Could I cease to love my mother ? No, dearest mamma, 
it is you who have grown cold. You know not how 
I have longed to cast myself hi yom- arms, and tell you 
how all om- hearts were broken by your coldness." 

"My child, you shall no longer yearn for my love, or 
that of any other ; and now, darhng, leave me to my 
own bitter grief, and say to yom' ever kmd father, that 
I wish to speak mth limi when he shall be disengaged." 
Kissing her mother, she tm^ned towards the door, and 
there encountered her father. "Mamma desires to see 
you," she said, as she kissed him, and passed on. 

" Ah, dearest husband, can you forgive me for my 
long and cruel coldness towards you, and my loved and 
■ stricken family ? I loved you, my own dear husband, 
through all the changes that have occurred, and though 
you knew it not, my poor heart has been yearning to 
imite once more with my family. But, dearest, can 1 
ever be forgiven for my conduct? Oh, dearest, I am 
lone and sad. Will you love me now that I have 
bhghted om- home, and om' loved one is gone, to return 


no more ? God ! can it be tliat I shall never see my 
beloved Beverley again? Can it be that birds and 
blossoms retm'n to us, but that he is gone fi-om om* gaze 
for ever ? Oh, my husband, canlha forgiven ? tell me, 
oh, tell me !" 

" Calm yourself, Julia, my dear ^\dfe, and tiy to 
forget tliis unhappy cii-cumstance in our lives. I will 
love you, dearest, ever, and had never ceased to love 
you ; in the grave of our child let us bury all remi- 
niscences of the past, and let the first blade of verdure 
which shall spring from his grave be but to thee a 
souvenir of hoAv ardently he loved you. Let us, my 
dear, look to the future for oiu- happiness, for is it not 
always better than to a mingled past of bitterness and 
regrets? Calm yom'self, my wife, we have yet left 
om- lovely Cornie, whose waning cheek metliinks grows 
paler day by day at the thoughts of this estrange- 

" Again my husband, I must implore your pardon. 
I am the cause of her pale cheek and downcast eye. 
Has she never told you why? Oh! my children. I have 
sent one away from me to die amongst strangers, and 
A^-ithout the mother's parting kiss ; the other I have 
doomed to worse than death — the separation from her 
beloved. Has she not told you how I sent him from her, 
and forbade her ever again to see him ? Has she not, 
my husband, told you it was her mother who was the 
executioner of all her brightest hopes ? Oh ! my God, 
forgive me. I have almost, Medea-like, sacrificed my 
children to my hatred of those I should have loved. Oh ! 
I shall go mad. My beautiful boy gone ! gone ! and for 
aye !" 


Exhausted, she threw herself upon the pillow, and 
wept, as though her heart would break. 

As Colonel Clifton smoothed her temples, and endea- 
vom-ed to calm her, she said, ^' My husband, it is not too 
late to atone somewhat for the past. Send for Albert 
la Branche without delay, and let me reward the 
obedience, the self-sacrificing love of my child, by yield- 
ing- her up to one who is every way worthy of her. 
Send for him, dearest, and ere the sun sinks hi the west 
I will see my darling happy. Her poor mother never 
again can be so. Do not wait to write for him, send at 
once." As he started to summon the servant, she said, 
kneeling at his feet, and clasping his knees, " Say before 
you go that you pardon and love me still." 

He clasped her yet beautiful form to his breast as he 
answered, " Love you, Julia ? no, dearest, I do not, it is 
adoration I feel for you ; and, though I may be weak to 
confess it, never, even on the nuptial eve, did I love you 
better than now. We have both grown older since then, 
and both have felt the icy touch of time upon heart as 
well as brow, but I trust that we can both say, with 
sincerity, that we have never ceased to love one another. 
My darHng, you are weak and nervous, lie down and 
rest yourself." 

He gently placed her upon the couch, and dra^ving 
aside the curtains, he said, " Look out, dearest, upon the 
scene, and permit the evening air to fan your cheek. 
Spring is with us again in all her beauty, and promises 
much. I have never seen richer verdure, nor brighter 
sides; let them be to us a presage of the futm-e, 
dearest." She sobbed herself to sleep as a stricken 


When evening's shadows cast their lengthened forms 
around, a different scene was witnessed in the boudoir 
of Mrs. Chfton. She still reclined upon the cushions of 
her couch, and by her side sat Colonel Clifton, holding 
her beautiful hand. At the foot of the couch sat our 
friend Albert la Branche, whose face wore the expression 
of chastened joy. 

Mrs. Clifton said, *' Mr. la Branche, I have sent for 
you in this moment of soitow and affliction, when my 
poor heart is breaking, and filled with repentance for the 
injustice of my conduct towards my son and my gentle 
daughter. Towards one it is too late to repine ; but yet 
there is one gentle, tender flower that 1 do not ^dsh to 
crush for ever. Say, Monsieur la Branche, if my daughter 
still possesses your love, unchanged by my harsh 
measures ? " 

"Ah, my dear Mrs. Chfton, how can you ask me 
this ? Can you deem me so fickle, so inconstant, as to 
cease to love her who is to me all that makes Hfe 
dear? Love your daughter? Yes, Madame, now and 
ever ! " 

" Thank you, ^lonsiem- la Branche, for yom- fidelity 
to one who is every way worthy of it. Zaide," she said, 
as a servant appeared that she had summoned, " say to 
your mistress that I wish to see her.^' 

In a few moments the door opened wliich entered 
from the garden, and Miss Clifton appeared in the apart- 
ment. She was clad in a white India mushn, trimmed 
with Valencienne, ^dthout other ornaments. She lield 
in her hand a bouquet of star-jasmine, and in her belt 
was a bunch of star-myrtle. She entered rather quickly, 
and was about presenting her flowers to her mother, 


when slie observed Monsieur la Branclie, who rose to 
greet her. She staggered, dropped her flowers, and 
said, wiklly, "What can this mean? Albert here, and 
at such a time ! Father, mother, Albert, tell me quickly 
what this means ! " 

" My daughter, come hither. This but means that 
you must be restored to happiness, and that your father 
and myself now yield you to one worthy of you. Come, 
Albert la Branche, and take her hand ; she is yours^ now 
and eternally. That is right, Albert, press her close to 
your heart, she is worthy the best spot even in your 
noble breast. Weeping, Cornie, darling ? I thought to 
make you happy." 

" Come, Albert, kneel with me, and ask our parents' 
blessing. Mamma, I am indeed happy, a heart too full for 
utterance ; but bless you, dear mamma, for this, and dear, 
kind papa, for your never-failing kindness and devotion 
to your child." 

As Albert folded his arms around her they bent their 
heads, and Mr. and Mrs. Clifton joined their hands and 
blessed them. 

" And now, my children, go forth and breathe the 
air. The last tints of evening are gilding the earth, 
and my soul longs to pour forth in quiet its song of 
praise to the Great Giver. The twilight of repose will 
soon be here, and while you, my children, wander forth 
to gaze upon the flower and the tree, I will 6ffer to the 
Deity orisons for you. But, Cornie, dearest, where are 
your jasmines? Pick them up, love, and let us each 
keep one as a souvenir of your betrothal." 

She gave to her mother and father the jasmine, but 
to Albert she gave a sprig of myi'tle. And now we will 


leave tliem alone in this, their hour of joy. We will not 
speak of the words of endearment wliich were spoken 
by both. We will only say that two purer or truer 
hearts never beat than those re-united on that lovely eve 
of spring. 

The scene must change again. I will ask you, 
reader, to accompany me to the family chapel of the 
Clifton s. 

It is noon, the dazzling sun streams in golden 
floods through the wuidows of the chapel, which is 
richly decorated for the nuptials of ^liss Chfton. 
Elaborate drapery of gold and silver festoons the 
walls, partially concealing shrines of precious metal, 
on which images of the Saviour, Virgin, and saints 
shine, blazing in jewels of " pm'est ray serene." 

The altar, before which the Rev. Bishop 

now stands, T\dth his numerous attendants, is a per- 
fect scene of Hght and beauty, with its varied hues 
and gorgeous ornaments. The few ii-iends who are 
assembled to witness the ceremony stand anxiously 
awaiting the party. At length sounds sweep along 
the corridor; the folding doors at the lower end of 
the chapel are flung open ; the bridal party enter, and 
slowly pass up the centre aisle to the front of the altar, 
where all kneel. 

Miss Clifton's beauty is heightened by her expres- 
sion of countenance, which, as her floating veil falls 
apart, reveals her face, which seems to shadow 
forth the soul within, and which appears to affect 
the most indifierent spectator ^-ith a species of awe 
and veneration. In spmtual beauty she kneels beside 
one, whom in a few minutes wiU be to her, her all 


in life. A breathless silence reigns until, in clear 
silvery tones, comes the response, " I will," to the 
"Wilt thou accept this man as thy wedded lord — to 
love, honom-, and obey ? " A moment more, and 
Cornie Clifton and Albert la Branche are receiving: 
the congTatulations of then- friends as man and wife. 

Slowly the guests departed, and the last to leave 
was Miss de Villerie, after again and again clasping her 
friend to her heart, and kissing her fair cheek. It was 
over ; Miss Clifton left the chapel, followed by the 
train of bridesmaids, to don her travelhng robes for 
departure, as Colonel la Branche had been ordered 
with his regiment to Corinth. 

Already om* fak bride and bridegroom are on their 
way, and as they are borne onward to their nfew home 
let us bid them " God speed." 

They are now far upon then- way, and night has 
fallen, calmly but softly upon the scene. Oh, who that 
looks upon the radiant arch above, filled with its 
glowing beauties, of what are said to be each and 
every one another, and yet another world, can imagine, 
^^dthout a feeling of pain and sorrow, the great mass of 
human passion and intense suffering which one little 
corner of the globe contains? Who that feels this 
presence of infinity, speaking as it does in the awful 
stillness of spiritual gloom, can return in thought 
to earthly things without a repulsive shudder at the 
misdeeds of man? 

The horn' was fast dawning for one more struggle, 
which promised success to our arms, and the steamers 
and trauis which daily left the city, bore food and 
clothing to the noble undaunted soldiers that stood 


awaiting the contest. As usual, our foes not only 
armed themselves vrith. steel, but hoped to find then 
'* pen as mighty as the sword " in promulgating false- 
hoods like the follo™ig (probably the eftusion of the 

" elegant Madame N , of X Y , or some 

other of her style) ; I will place it before the reader, 
who is welcome to his own opinion. 

"A Terrible Picture. 

" We find in the 'Cincinnati Gazette' some extracts, 
purporting to come from the ' London Clnonicle,' 
descriptive of the hoiTors of slaveiy in this country, 
and the cnielties and atrocities practised by slave- 
holders. For the amusement of om- readers we cull 
the following : — 

" 'No country on the globe produces a blackguardism, 
a cowardice, or treachery so consummate as that of 
the negro-driving States in the new Southern Con- 
federacy. It is not enough for the auctioneers of 
African flesh and blood that they can tortme their 
stripped \'ictims, and commit assassination vdih im- 
punity; it is not enough that they are privileged 
to flay or bmn ahve then* breathing chattels; they 
must stalk into the Senate House armed T\^th instru- 
ments of murder ; they must conspne to establish a 
reign of terror by means of a cut-throat policy. They 
must plot to take the life of their new President, while 
the Republic is charioting him to her sacred throne. 
These malignant wretches, impish and paltiy beyond 
conception in their ideas of political revenge, endeavour- 
ing to blow up Abraham Lincoln with an infernal 
machine on his journey from Cincinnati; and scheming 


to originate a railroad accident by which hundreds 
of lives might have been lost, in order to gratify their 
jealousy of a man who has triumphed over the most 
dangerous cabal in the commonwealth. The worst 
element in the position of the Union is this position 
of the South, which has derived from the Spaniards 
its barbarous vanity ; from the Huron and Mohawk, its 
savage indifference to suffering ; and from the mongrels 
of the Gulf its loathsome habit of combining the 
manners of the bull-ring with the morals of the bordello. 
President Lincoln is called upon to deal with this 
seditious, turbulent, and homicidal population. It is 
to his credit that he has not yet been provoked mto 
repaying their menaces in .such coin as may be minted 
at arsenals and issued at the cannon's mouth. 

" ' The South attempts to treat the North as it 
treats its own black vassals, who, like the serfs of 
Sparta, are scourged to death at the altar of the 
only God that the cotton planter worships. And how 
is the policy exemplified? Ever smce Mr. Lincoln's 
ascent to the Presidential chair, the cruelties of the 
slave-owners have been multiplied and intensified, 
because it is feared that, unless a system of terror 
be estabhshed, the hereditary bondsmen will make 
weapons of thefr chains, and crush oppression itself 
under the heel of revolted slavery. Not in Algiers, 
when the Deys were at the summit of their execrable jwwer ; 
not in Rome, ivhen the poor captive girl, after being flagi- 
tiously abused, was flung into a fish pond; not in Russia, 
when the executioner cuts out the tongue of his knouted victim, 
have horrors more terrible been recorded, than have been 
testified to unwilling witnesses since the triumjjh of Mr. 

P 2 


Lincoln. The over-worked, underfed, miserably clad, 
and ^a-etchedly-lodged slaves, have been compelled, 
as a means of repressing then- intelligence, to work 
in iron collars, to sleep in the stocks, to drag heavy 
chains at their feet, to wear yokes, bells, and copper 
horns ; to stand naked, while their masters or mis- 
tresses brand them infamously; to have their teeth 
drawn, to have red pepper iTibbed into their excoriated 
flesh, to be bathed in turpentine, to be thrust into sacks 
■u4th mad cats, to have their fingers amputated, to 
be shaved, and to be whipped from neck to heel with 
red-hot nons. It is of no avail to deny this impeach- 
ment. Congress itself, which contains a majority of 
slave-owners, admits the truth. The American journals 
teem with advertisements of slaves, whose bodies are 
marked indelibly with the traces of torture. Cases are 
frequently tried in the law courts of the Union, of masters 
who have not only flogged their black girls to death, hut have 
deliberately carved the flesh from their bones ; and since the 
panic caused by Mr. Lincohis election, these abominations 
have been redoubled.' " 

The "Cincinnati Gazette," which ought to have 
known how stupendous are the falsehoods in the above, 
not only publishes them without any denial, but calls 
special attention to the way in which the " London 
Chronicle" " denounces the brutality" of Southern slave- 
holders. We wonder if it ever occmTcd to those pious 
people who grieve so much over the cruelties practised 
upon slaves, that interest alone, to say nothing of 
humanity, would prevent any such treatment of slaves, 
worth fr'om fifteen hmidred to two thousand dollars 
a-piece, as is above recorded ? We suppose not. 


The " London Chronicle " got its information, no 
doubt, from some roving AboHtion bar bke Redpath, 
and eagerly swallowed the story. The great Arrow- 
smith hoax of the London " Times " was a tame and 
spiritless affair compared to the above. 

It must mdeed be a credulous community in which 
such vile misrepresentations can find belief, and the per- 
sons who can give it a second thought must be bereft of 
their senses. 

A few mornings after the above appeared. Colonel 
CHfton, who had been glancing over the morning journal, 
remarked, "Doubtless these are the same individuals 
who burnt our mill," and read the following : — " A lady, 
the mfe of a planter, living some few miles from a 
village, was seated upon her balcony late one summer's 
evening; her husband being absent, she sat awaiting 
his return. A horseman rode up to the front gate, and, 
dismounting, entered the house, saying, 'Madam, it is 
growing late, and I should like to remain here to-night.' 
She arose and said, ' I should be happy, Sir, to entertain 
you, but cannot receive you, as my husband is absent, 
and there are none here but myself and servants ; but,' 
she continued, ' the village is only a short distance, and 
you will there be able to procm^e lodging.' He turned 
from her with a dark scowl, and went out. Mountmg 
his horse he rode off. Fearing all was not going to pass 
off so smoothly, the lady entered her room, and, taking 
her revolver from the bureau, she returned to her posi- 
tion. Just as it grew quite dark the same individual 
stopped in front of the house, and came into the balcony, 
saying, ' Madame, I have returned to stay here to-night, 
and will do so, whether you like it or not,' at the same 


time walking towards her room door, wliich opened upon 
the balcony. She quickly arose, and, placing herself in 
the doorway, said, ' If you dare to enter here I will shoot 
you, so do not attempt it ;' at the same time she drew a 
revolver. He attempted to brush past her, and to take 
it from her, when she fired. He fell, mortally Avounded, 
across the threshold. She then called her servants, and 
said to the man, who was in the agonies of death, ' If 
you have any friends, say who they are, and I will send 
for them. You forced me to do this, but now I vdW do 
what I can for you.' He answered, faintly, ' Madame, 
you are a brave and noble woman. I cannot blame you, 
nor shall you or yours be harmed. In the village of 
which you spoke is my accomplice. Send there and 
have him arrested. He drives a small waggon, seemingly 
a pedlar, but it has a false floor, and underneath are fire- 
arms, with which we had intended to arm the slaves of 
the whole country for an insurrection. May God for- 
give me, but I hope it is not too late for repentance.' 
As the last words escaped his lips his spuit went forth 
to its Creator. The lady dispatched a servant to the 
village with an account of the afiair. The other party 
was arrested, and his simple little waggon proved as for- 
midable as an u'on-clad. He was taken out to see the 
remains of his companion, and he was then hung in 
the negro quarters, as also the dead body of his 

" They met with a just reward," said Colonel Clifton 
as he cast the paper aside ; " but I trust that God vnll 
have mercy upon their souls." 

A brave woman, and may all our women prove as 
heroic on such occasions. These are fearful times, and 


none should be unprepared; times in which the most 
trifling accounts are exaggerated. The misrepresenta- 
tion of the article entitled "A Terrible Picture" proves 
the bitterness of our Abolition friends, but the following 
piece of irony gives a faithful and just idea of the false- 
ness of such an article : — 

" Hyfalutyn. 

" A Tale of the Sunny South. 

" Written Expressly for the ' New York Literary 
" By Sillyvanus Corncob, Junior. 
" At a Fabulous Expense ! 

" And Secured according to Every Act of Congress 
passed since 1814 ! 

"Illustrated with Twenty-fom* Superb and Original 

" 'Twas sunrise in Louisiana ! The King of Day 
ever rises in that luxurious land amid a panoply of 
gorgeous clouds, whose intermingling tints of pink and 
blue contrast beautifully with the pale green blossoms 
of the ever-blooming magnolia bush." 

" A narrow horse-path wound tln-ougha dense wood, 
along the bank of the Mississippi, upon whose bosom 
floated two monster steamboats, while a large ship was 
sailing majestically up the stream." 

" B^ish were swimming about promiscuously, and a 
* The expense being great, we do not insert them in this work. 


turtle was lazily sunning himself on the bank ; while 
eagles, wild turkeys, and snipe flew in towering circles 
or darted through the air." 

" Occasionally a di'ove of A^-ikl horses would leap 
fi'om the dense cane brakes, and, after slaking their 
tliirst in the river, prance back to their retreat. " 

"But see ! who comes yotider? 'Tis a man of tall 
stature, noble mien, high forehead, classic countenance, 
and a complexion clear, but black as ebony. Across 
his shoulder is hung a stick, upon which hangs a bundle 
of unwashed linen." 

" Seating himself upon the bank, he carefully takes a 
lyre from his vest pocket, and sings, in a clear, soprano 
voice, the following sublime and toucliing ode to hberty.'' 

" (On account of a disagreement with om- poet in 
regard to terms, we are obliged to omit this sublime ode.) 

" ' Ah ! ' said Francisco Rochigiiez (for such was the 
coloured gentleman's name), ' now can I say ^\it]l 
England's monarch, " Richard is him self again ! " Listen, 
ye free winds that blow from the land of the sainted 
Fremont, and thou, too, unshackled Mississippi, listen 
to my tale of Avoe ; and had you only a head, I could, 
in the language of my favom'ite poet, Shakespeare, 
'' make each of your particular hans to stand on end, like 
quills upon the fretful porcupine." Tester eve I was 
brutally mutilated by my tyrannical master. See ! here 
is proof; " saying which, he took fr'om his parcel a small 
package, which, being opened, showed a large molar 
tooth, with a decayed cavity." 


" ' Oh ! were Celestina only here to sympatliise with 
me ill my affliction, I could die content.' " 

"At tliis moment, a mid, piercing shriek was heard, 
and a being, fair as an angel, and graceful as a gazelle, 
leaped from a neighbouring precipice, with a bottle of 
the real, old, original, genuine Dr. Jacob Townsend's 
Sarsaparilla in her hand (only two dollars per bottle, 
for sale at the Manufactory, No. 614, Nassau Street, 
New York, and by all respectable druggists throughout 
the United States), and alighted in the arms of her 
faithful and long-lost Francisco." 

" N.B. — The scene that followed was of a natm-e so 
affecting, that the author's tears have blotted it entirely 
out on the MSS. After recovering from her swoon, 
Celestina applied a magnificently embroidered pocket- 
handkerchief to her dewy eyes." 

" 'Cheer up, my own, my beloved Francisco. We 
Avill yet be living in a magnificent mansion in Upper 
Canada.' " 

" ' There I will enhven you with songs of love 
on the gentle guitar, or the sweet piano. You can then 
get a false set of teeth inserted, each one of which will 
be fiLner than that of which you were so inhumanly 
deprived. Oh ! we A\all live in an earthly paradise, my 
own Francisco ! ' " 

" 'Never, my love," gloomily responded the noble 
black man, ' we can never escape the bloodhounds that 
are already on our track. Hark! I hear them even 
now I '" 

218 THE heroest: of the COXFEDERACY; 

"Celestina fainted, while fom* hundred swarthy- 
planters, with moustaches a foot and a half long, armed 
with two rifles and a shot-gun each, mounted on horses, 
and followed by a pack of bloodhounds, came in 

"'Die, villains! die like dogs!' exclaimed one of 
the planters. 

" Rodi'iguez clasped one arm about his channing 
bride, while he shook his other fist at the planters, 
who immediately dodged beliind the trees. The hounds 
intimidated by the glance of the desperate man's eye, 
skulked off; and Francisco would have escaped had not 
one of the planters treacherously picked up a cotton 
bale, and flinging it at the devoted pair, dashed them 
to the ground." 

" At this, the homids leaped upon them, and chawed 
them up, stick, sarsapaiilla, extracted tooth, and all, in 
three minutes and a half by the watch." 

" The last words of Francisco Rodriguez were, 
* Fred Douglas ! T'other Douglas ! Seward ! Greeley ! 
Giddings ! Hurrah for the New York Literary Hum- 

" The only thing saved was a small piece of paper, 
in one of Francisco's boots ; and although all of the 
leather was greedily devoured, the hounds found this 
document too tough to swallow. It read as follows : — 

" ' Pro-pliecy. — Douglas will be the next President of 
the United States; while the New York Literary 
Humbug, and the real, old, original, genuine, Dr. 
Jacob Townsend's Sarsaparilla, will be taken by every 
family ia this country.'" 


Countiy eclitoivs who will publish a two column 
prospectus of the N. Y. Literary Humbug, will be 
entitled to one year's subscription, and six second- 
hand postage stamps." 

]\lrs. Clifton remained silent, she had yielded only in 
her affections, but she could not yet condemn the 
North. In her inmost heart-cells smouldered still the 
ashes of the sacrifice she had made to the memory of 
her son, whose light would never fade. But now she 
ceased to either speak or think of all such subjects 
as politics, and calmly she seemed to submit to the 
chastisement wdiich a Father's hand inflicted. An 
earnest desire to contribute towards the happiness of 
those around her, seemed to take possession of her; 
with an entire disregard of self, the quiet serene smile 
told of the change within, and of the strength her 
spirit had gamed in its upward flight, and longing for 
that world where she knew her son now dwelt. The 
poignant anguish had passed, but the memory of her 
love for him still lingered. 

Some weeks had passed since the events related 
above, and Mrs. Clifton was seated in the boudoir of 
her absent daughter. She was clad in deep mourning, 
and grief was written on her beautiful features. She 
was glancing over a letter, which we will place before 
you,, reader, as it is from Mrs. la Branche to her 
mother : — 

• " Camp Moore, La. 

'^ Dear Parents, 

" I have just arrived here, and Albert has this 
moment left me to join several of his friends, who have 


already sent their cards (the petals of the magnolia 
leaf, Avhicli are here used as such), and who seem 
anxious to congratulate him upon his nuptials. While 
he is entertaining his friends, I Avill endeavour to give 
you an account of my trip, and what the prospects of 
comfort are. On entering the cars at New Orleans, I 
met several of my friends, who told me they were 
destined for the same journey, and all being in excellent 
spirits, and in a mood to enjoy the trip, we anticipated 
a pleasant time. The spring morning, with its fresh 
gladness, its glo^-ing beauties of earth and sky, and 
delicious atmosphere, added to the beauty and joyful- 
ness of the scene. For miles on our way we went 
through fields inlaid with a perfect mosaic of gold, 
white, red, violet, and gTeen, formed by the myriad 
fiowers with which the gentle goddess cro^vns herself 
Here and there hedges of the Cherokee rose, and osage, 
orange, the impenetrable defence of the cotton fields. 
In the various trees all shades of green were displayed, 
from the most delicate tinges of the early foliage to the 
deeper shades of winter-green, or olive. The borders of 
streams and rivulets in our course were gemmed with 
smiling flowers, and the wild violet peeped forth from 
its vernal couch, seeking a share of the praise which the 
more gay and flaunting beauties of the field and wood 
received as their just homage. 

" Many cottages appeared to us as we flew past in 
our steam carriage, and here and there a piincely looking 
residence would burst upon our view, and ere we had time 
to gaze upon it, or consider its style of architecture, it 
would disappear from view, and each moment the scene 
changed, like some phantasmagoria beneath the in- 


fliience of liglit and shade. On we flew at rapid rate, 
and though, dear parents, I was, and am happy, my 
thoughts would return to you, and Hnger around ' the 
loved ones at home.' As I sat gazing out upon the 
clouds of smoke, or mist, as they rose and floated 
over the extensive fields, seemingly like the spirits of 
departed ones ascending to heaven, leaving behind 
them their earthly vestments, I thought of one who 
has left us for ever, and of his to be for ever vacant 
place beside our family hearthstone. Forgive me if I 
have pained you by referring to this, but I could not 
write home without giving a thought to him. It was 
but a few hours ere we arrived at this place, and though 
it is not the point for which we started, Albert thought 
it best we should stop here to rest for a day or so, and, 
besides, we both have many friends here. 

" This, you are aware, is what its name implies, and 
hundreds of soldiers surround the village. Constantly 
troops are arriving and departing from this point, and 
you cannot conceive how picturesque the scene which 
presents itself to the eye, as one \^ews the panorama- 
like tableau. The two hotels (or, to give them their 
proper names, inns) are the chief buildings in the place, 
and one stands on either side of the railroad, and when- 
ever the cars arrive, a stream of individuals pom* into 
the open doors of the road mansion. A negro generally 
appears at this moment on the gallery of each, and rings 
a bell in the most scientific manner, which the tired, and 
generally famished, travellers hail as the sweetest of 

" The hotel to the right as you anive from the New 
Orleans tram is kept by a gentleman, and the one to the 


left by a widow lady. In the latter I am now domi- 
ciled. You T\dll be sm^rised, dear mother and father, 
when I tell you that here we are not put to the trouble 
of making dinner toilette, and that I find my travelling 
attire more than stylish enough for the nistic mode of 
apparel which I perceive here. Albert has retm-ned to 
escort me to the table cPhote, and I ^\'ill not close imtil we 
return from dinner. 

" Oh, dear parents, you cannot imagine what a tiaily 
Lacedemonian meal I have just partaken of! One, 
indeed, must be patriotic to subsist on such fare. Albert, 
however, ate A^^thout comment, and says it is all that a 
true soldier requires. I tried, for Albert's sake, to eat 
something, but I hope to cultivate a taste for the ' black 
broth.' I am sm-e I can do any tiling for my Albert's 
sake. Come what may, I am prepared to meet want, 
and even beggary, T\'ith him. 

" And now, my dear parents, both Albert and myself 
join in love to you, and earnestly request your prayers 
for us both, and we have to thank you for om- happiness, 
and may God for ever bless you, is the earnest prayer 
of yom- 

" Devoted child, 
" To Mrs. Clifton, " C. la Branche. 

" Yallambrosa Plantation, 
" New Orleans, La." 

Thus she vrrote in this child-like and confiding spmt. 
She carried the guilelessness, the innocence, the fresh- 
ness of the child into the deeper feeling of woman's 
clinging tenderness. None of the e\dl passions had ever 
found entrance into that pure heart, and her very soul 


Avas stainless as an infant's. Her mother read and 
re-read the pages, breathing a sad and seemingly joyous 

" May you, indeed, be happy, my angel-child," said 
Mrs. Clifton ; " you have truly suffered, only, however, 
to prove your true nobleness of character. My God," 
she continued, " I am., I feel, unworthy ; but spare, oh ! 
spare me this, one of my treasm*es. What dark pre- 
sentiment is this I feel ? Oh ! God, have pity on my 
already torn, crushed, and bleeding heart, and spare my 
child, my last, my only one." 

Mrs. Clifton bowed low her head upon her hands, 
and sobbed convulsively. A presentiment of ill seemed 
to take possession of her, which she could not dissipate, 
and anxiously she awaited the letters which occasionally 
the morning's postman placed in the servant's hands for 
her. The journals were now filled with exciting news 
of the approaching contest, which the next chapter will 



" Forget not our wounded companions, who stood 

In the day of distress by our side ; 
While the moss of the valley grew red with their blood, 

They stirr'd not, but conquer'd and died. 
That sun which now blesses our arms with his light, 

Saw them fall upon Ossory's plain ; — 
Oh ! let him not blush, when he leaves us to-night. 

To find that they fell there in vain." 

The spiing has again appeared, and ere we raise the 
cm-tain upon the principal events of '62 .we -u^ll just 
glance over a few incidents worthy of note in the 
closLQg pages of last year s records. From the first gun 
fired at Fort Sumpter to the last boom of the cannon at 
Belmont in that same year, the " Rebels " were, ^ath 
slight exceptions, the victors. ]Many martyrs were 
added to the hst upon which the noble Jackson's name 
must ever be the first, and many were they who met 
with the fate of the niffian Ellsworth, when daiing to 
seize upon '^Southern trophies." A monmnent was 
proposed to the Hero of Alexanchia, and a grateful 
people contributed towards the wants of his bereaved 
family. But the wild storm of despotism which has 
swept over the sunny South has left no traces of even 
the tombs of those whose obscure position should have 


rendered them sacred. Cliiirclies and cemeteries alike 
were spoiled by the invader, and for this reason the idea 
of erecting- monuments to the memory of the martyred 
dead is abandoned for the present. The battles of 
Bethel, Rich Mountain, Bull Run, Manasses, Carthage, 
Oak' Hill, Lexington, Leesburg, and Belmont, had 
been fought, and, with the exception of the second 
named, they were all brilliant Southern victories. 
Among the heroes whose names should be engraven 
on all hearts are Generals Garnett and Bee, as also 
Colonels Bartow and Fisher, who fell nobly upon the 
battle-field. General Bee must ever be remembered, 
not only for his valour, but his having bestowed upon 
noble General Jackson the suggestive name of •' Stone- 
wall," and by which he is, and will ever be, most gene- 
rally known (Thomas F. Jackson). But the last month 
of the year '61 (December) will long be remembered as 
that in which the outrage of the Federal vessel, the San 
Jacinto (Commander Wilkes), to the Bi-itish flag, in the 
seizme of the Confederate Commissioners, James M. 
Mason, of Virginia, and Hon. John Slidell, of Louisiana, 
and their Secretaries, Messrs. Eustis and M'Farland, 
who were passengers on board H.M.S.S. The Trent, 
commanded by Captain Mann. The day after she had 
sailed from Havannah she was intercepted by the 
Federal steam-frigate above named, and brought-to by 
a shotted gun, and then boarded by an armed crew ; 
when the persons of the Messrs. SHdell, Mason, Eustis, 
and M'Farland were demanded, but these gentlemen 
refusing to leave it, except at the instance of physical 
force (and claiming British protection), were informed 
by Lieutenant Fairfa;x that he was ready to use it. The 



Commander of the Trent made many protests against 
such a piratical seizure of Ambassadors under a neutral 
flag; but all of no avail, and the Trent, Ix^ing an 
unaiTiied vessel, could make no resistance. Tlie Com- 
missioners, with their Secretaries, were taking leave of 
their friends, and the Hon. Jolm Slidell had gone into 
his state-room to take leave of his family, wlien Miss 
Slidell stationed herself in the doorway, to prevent 
intrusion on the leave-taking of her parents. At this 
moment Lieutenant Fairfax appeared, and Abashed to 
force an entrance into the room, at the door of which 
Miss Slidell was posted as sentinel (an office which she 
proved herself worthy of), when that young lady re- 
marked, " You cannot, nor shall not, enter, Sir ! " 
Telling her to stand aside, and endeavoming to force 
her from her position, the noble girl resented the affi'ont 
by boxing his ears, thus recalling to mind the action of 
Cleopatra, who slapped Seleucus, and proving to us that 
" the most beautiful are most brave." Had it not been, 
however, for the interference of the British officers 
on board, ^liss Slidell would probably have felt the 
effects of her raslmess, as the cliivah'ous Lieutenant 
ordered his roen to bayonet her upon the spot. Then 
numberless cheers for the fair Rebel and modem 
Cleopatra, and may such examples not be lost upon 
eveiy Southei-n woman when called upon in such emer- 
gencies. This act, instead of cmshing the hopes of our 
people, brought only renewed confidence in the almost 
worn.out expectations of "foreign intervention," and 
these ideal dreams were proven vain, when, at the 
demand of the English Goverament, the persons of the 
" Trent arrest " affair were delivered up and sent on 


their way. The ludicrous statements of Seward, in his 
letter to Earl Russell, that " the safety of the Union did 
not require the detention of the captured persons, and 
that an effectual check had been put to the existing 
' insurrection,' and that its waning proportions made it 
no longer a subject of serious consideration," were 
shown to be false, and yet it contained an element of 
truth. Om* people, elated with their success in arms, 
had felt confident that " foreign intervention " would 
speedily arrive, and that " King Cotton" would soon 
wave his sceptre triumphant. But at the close of this 
year it was e\'ident how useless, how worse than vain, 
om- hopes of any aid, save God's and right. The 
Southern people, no longer buoyed up with such expec- 
tations, nerved themselves, and prepared for a long and 
bloody contest, to conquer or to die, and felt that the 
battle-field alone would decide their fate. Our sick and 
wounded at this period were deprived of many articles 
necessary for their comfort, and the blockade now com- 
menced to be felt. Diseases of all kmds were daily 
making their inroads into the army of the Potomac and 
Western Virginia, as also among the troops at Chute 
^lountains and the Kenawha Valley. The dampness, 
exposm^e, changeable climate, cold, and rain, want of 
tents, suitable food and clothing, were producing their 
effects, and the many nameless graves which surround 
the numerous camphig grounds on the borders of our 
rivers, in oiu* sombre forests, and in the wilds of our 
mountauis, tell of those " mmoticed heroes" whose last 
days were passed in sacrificmg on the altar of their 
country their love of home and friends. They shall not 
be forgotten! The nameless brave do not sleep uu- 

Q 2 


remembered, and beauty's tears flow silently for them 
■when the announcement of each battle tells us that the 
brave have fallen. At this date in our histoiy the folds 
of the Anaconda seemed tightening around the brave 
armies of the Confederacy, and a ruthless foe seemed to 
gloat in anticipation of their ruin ; but they were dis- 
appointed, and found our noble soldiers undismayed, 
and prepared to gird up their loins deliberately, and 
determinedly to drive the AboHtion hordes from onr 
borders. The prospects of hunger, cold, and heat did 
not make them shnnk ; the wealthy planter and his 
sons w^ent forth, as freely yielding up the comforts of 
luxmious homes as the day-labourer did his humble but 
happy abode. The issue T\dll prove how a just God 
repaid them for this self-sacrifice, and that time and suf- 
fering but proved them worthy of the success w^iich 
they felt awaited them. 



" This battle fares like to the morning's war, 
When dying clouds contend with growing light ; 
What time°the shepherd, blowing of his nails, 
Can neither call it perfect day, or night." 

« Farewell !— God knows, when we shall meet again. 
I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins, 
That almost freezes up the heat of life." 

" Oh ' fair as the sea-flower close to the growing, 

How light was thy heart, till love's witchery came, 

Like the wind of the south o'er a summer lute blowing, 

And hush'd all its music, and wither'd its frame . 

" And still when the merry date-season is burning 

And calls to the palm-groves the young and the old. 
The happiest there, from this pastime returning 
At sunset, will weep when thy story is told. 

The morning of the 6th of April, 1862, opened npon a 
scene that will long be remembered; and, for ttalhng 
incident in the liistory of the Southern Confederacy, 
mnst ever beam npon its pages in letters of flame, i^ oi 
some time this engagement had been looked forward to 
with eagerness as to its result, and it was with a shout 
of ioy the forces under command of Generals Harcae 
Bragg, Beauregard, and Johnston were informed that 
the hour had arrived for the attack. 


The evening previous to the battle of Shiloh, there had 
been considerable sldnnishing, and early on the morning 
of the 6th, General Hardie made an advance upon the 
enemy's camp, who were completely taken by surprise, 
and, some in demi-toilette, and others cooking their 
breakfasts, were instantly compelled to cease all opera- 
tions, and form themselves into line of battle, to meet 
om* forces who were now advancing from every direc- 

The spmts of the Confederates were high and 
buoyant, and the trumpet-notes rang memly through 
hill and dale, while the rattle of the infantry drums 
sounded sharply from the wooded glens, and the 
bayonets flashed in the morning light, with thu Con- 
federate standard waving proudly above them. 

As the "rebel" columns advanced towards the foe, 
many a love-lit eye looked its last upon the beautiful 
scenery which met its view at every step. Channing 
the varied scene of hill and dell, rock, lakes, and 
streams, with now and then the gray gables of the 
farm-houses peeping forth from the groves of stately 
trees that screened them from the travellers' sight on 
the high-road. The wild rose and honeysuckle per- 
fumed the air, as arching over the road they tA\aned 
their luxmious tendi'ils ^vith. some sister plant, thus 
foiTiiing a triumphal archway, under which, on that 
morning, some passed to death, but most to victory. 
Argentine streams wound among the forests, and upon 
the grassy banks grazed herds of cattle. 

As the aniiy passed on, it was cheered m its progress 
by the encouraging voices that rang out from the 
cottages by the road side, and each vowed to perish in 


defending tliis beautiful land. All nature was beautiful 
— the mists were rolling away from the sun-lit earth, 
and the odour of spring blossoms floated upon the fresh 
morning air. Natm-e seemed to wear her brightest and 
most resplendent robes, in honom^ of those Avhose eyes 
might close upon her beauties for ever ; and the boom 
of the cannon which now pealed across the sky, told 
that the strife had commenced. Smoke curled in shell- 
like ridges along the hill sides, and soon the bloody 
conflict was at its height. 

From six o'clock the battle was deadly ; and though 
each fought with desperation, the brave and disciphned 
Federal troops could not resist the valour of the Con- 
federates, who dashed upon the advancing foe like 
angry waves, and meeting with resistance, were only 
forced back to return with renewed strength and fary ; 
like chaff before the wmd, they fell and strewed the 
earth, wliile their broken ranks rallied behind trees or 
underwood, only to meet the same fate afterwards. 

Awfully sublime grew the scene. Shells bursting 
into flame, and scattermg their meteor-hghts high in 
air, while the sharp crack of their report startled the 
dwellers of the wood, as they burst far beyond the 
scene of action ; peals of musketry rose upon the ear, 
while dead and dying strewed the ground. Examples 
of reckless daring met the view, and into the very 
mouth of gaping fire would the "rebel" soldiers dash 
^\ith mad determination. Ofacers and soldiers alike 
won laurels of unfading glory ; and, as clouds of smoke 
rolled away, the form of some brave fellow would be 
seen mangled beneath the feet of his comrades. 

Amono: the first who fell was the commander-in- 


chief, General Albert Sidney Johnston, who was 
wounded in the calf of the nght leg, and soon after 
reeling in his saddle, fell fi'om his horse, and in a few 
moments expu'ed. The knowledge of his fall was kept 
from the army until the day was secured ; and there, 
amid the cheers of a victorious army, and the roar of 
artillery, the noble all-lamented liero breathed liis last. 

Among others whose names deserve more than a 
passing notice, were General Gladden, of South Caro- 
lina ; George ^I. Johnston (Provisional Governor of 
Kentucky) ; as also Colonels Adams, of Louisiana ; 
Kitt Williams, of Tennessee ; and Blythe, of i\Iississippi. 
Among the lesser grade, the slain were too numerous 
to mention ; but as the noble Captain J. T. AYheat was 
so well known, and so well-beloved in Louisiana, it is 
only just to mention him. 

Native of Virginia, he entered the army the moment 
the first tlu'eat of subjugation came from the North. 
He had the honour of being secretary of the Louisiana 
Convention, His brother Robert, noted as Cuban Fili- 
buster, was wounded at Manasses, but recovered and 
entered again upon duty, and was soon after killed. He 
was associated also with AValker m the expedition to 

The Confederate victory was complete. Tlie entire 
encampment of the enemy was taken possession of by 
them, and they found the fruits of their day's labour 
immense ; an abundance of forage and munitions of 
war, as also a great amount of clothing, fine blankets, 
and numerous tents, repaid them for the latter which 
they had thi'own away in thefr weansome march. 

Sunday night General Beauregard estabhshed his 


liead-quarters at the rude log-cliurch of Shiloh, and the 
troops were ordered to sleep upon their arms, but the 
time had now come for feasting upon the spoils, and all 
night long soldiers and citizens were seen robbing and 
plundering. Disgraceful as this is to an army, there 
may be an excuse for such conduct on the side of the 
Confederates, as they, being deprived for so long a 
time of even the necessaries of life, they could but hail 
with gladness the moment such prizes were within 
reach. Before we condemn, let us not boast of strength 
to conquer temptation such as our hearts have never 
felt ; it is only those who are exposed to the heat of the 
furnace, that can judge of its intense heat. 

Monday morning found the enemy reinforced, and 
the Confederates much demoralised by their night of 
feasting and revelry ; notwithstanding they bared their 
bosoms to the strife and fought valor ously, imtil Beau- 
regard ordered a retreat, which was executed with 
steadiness. General Breakinridge, who had been ordered 
to cover the retreat, stood guard and vigil, with his little 
band prepared, if necessary, like Leonidas at the pass of 
Thermopylae, to hold the enemy in check, if it required 
the sacriiice of his last man. The enemy, already sorely 
chastised, did not pursue, but Breakinridge and his 
noble heroes are not deserving of the less praise. 
Beauregard retireel to Corinth, intending to make that 
place the strategic point of his campaign. But let us 
return to the field of battle, which presented a frightful 
scene of slaughter. The whole earth was strewn ^vith 
ghastly corpses, and the dying who had fallen among 
horses, muskets, swords, drums, and haversacks ; many 
of whom were in agony, moaning and entreating for 


water, or begging that some kind hand would kill them 
outright, and thus end their pain. ^lany liad died 
whose wounds were slight, from exposure and want of 
attention. The calmness of the descending dew re\'ived 
some, while to others it sent a chill, as they struggled 
in tlie cold embraces of Death. Alas ! a sad and strange 
sight is that of a battle field — all those who were, ere 
yesterday, strangers to each other, now lying side by side 
on their sanguine couch, and taking then- eternal sleep 
together. A scene of horror from which the coldest 
turns with a shudder, while gazing upon the distorted 
A^sages and discolom*ed features of the dead, over 
which insects were creeping, and fr'om which there now 
rose a miasma foul and sickening. With morning came 
many women, the mothers, ■v\dves, sisters, and friends of 
the soldiers, to search among the slain for the beloved 
ones, gone to return no more, and thefr shi'ieks, sobs, 
and vnld cries, mingled with the moans of the dpng, 
sent a pang to the heart, of the observer, and deeply 
did the arrow of sympatliy enter the soul for those who 
died alone and uncared for. There they wandered over 
that field of carnage, some ^^ath dishevelled hair, blood- 
shot eyes, and blanched cheeks, searching out from thb 
already decaying mass of human beings, the loved and 
brave. Oh ! the sight was heartrending. Apart from 
the rest of the boches lay the form of a young man, 
beautiful even in death, and over which a young and 
lovely woman was bending. Her face was of an ashen 
hue, and her eyes were tearless, but in them a wild stare, 
as she cast them upon the body before her. She seized 
the arm of the dead man, and endeavoured to place it 
around her neck, but, alas, its stiffened state rendered 


it impossible, then kissing its hands, she madly cast her- 
self on the body, and pressed her lips to the cold fore- 

" Albert, Albert," she mm-mured, " ask of God to 
take me too." 

The most callous-hearted wept at tliis scene of deso- 
lation, and seeing her endeavour to re-enfold him to her 
heart, her friends approached, and as they essayed to 
draw her from the scene, by pleadings and gentle force, 
she fell fainting upon the body, and was borne from the 
spot in the arms of her friends. 

Reader, do you recognise the characters ? They are 
Albert and Cornie, and soon the curtain must drop for 
ever upon two Avdiom I feel you have followed with some 
interest this far. Yes, Albert la Branche was in the 
thickest of the glorious strife, and fell upon the last day. 
He had taken a fond farewell of his bride that morning, 
confident in his promise of returning as soon as the 
conflict was passed, and had kissed her at the cottage 
door of the rustic abode in which they had taken up 
then- quarters. Anxiously she had watched and awaited 
the couriers, as they almost momentarily dashed by, and 
when Monday passed and no hastily-scribbled ]ine told 
her of his safety, unheeding the counsel of her friends' 
she flew to the battle-field, and now the reader, if he 
will, may witness her last hours. 

Sadly her friends bore her to her couch, and weep- 
ingly they pressed aromid her inanimate form, that they 
might assist in restoring her to consciousness. Thus 
she lay for hours, seemingly dead, with her icy gaze 
rivetted upon them. No sound escaped her hps, but at 
length her breast heaved vdVii heavy sighs, and the tears 


stole quietly do^^^l her cheeks from that now unsealed 
fountain in her heart. Tenderly they watched her, and 
silently she thanked them, while now and then she 
pressed their hands to her heart, or smiled upon them in 
her almost seraphic beauty. But the canker worm was at 
her heart, and momentarily they saw her fading away. 
Her parents were summoned, and they came and stood 
beside her, and that mother, now crushed and broken- 
hearted, no longer raved, but bowled to the Divine will, 
which seemed not to feel satisfied witli the already 
brimming chalice which she had di'ained to the tbegs. 
There lay that fragile flower — the blessed, the loved, 
and cherished ; she was passing "to that bourne from 
w^hence no traveller returns," and to that land " where 
never sounds farewell." She gazed lingeringly upon 
the departing sun, and watched the shadows of the 
vine-lines, which drooped m festoons from the doors and 
windows of the room she occupied, and when the last 
gleam of sunlight departed, wHith it her spirit fled, to 
shed its light and radiance on another world. Her deli- 
cate hands were clasped upon her breast, and her cheek 
shone with a hue unlike that of death. The dark and 
troubled waves were stilled ; the lamp had gone out, and 
her soul had gone forth to meet the kindred spirit that 
stood awaiting it. The harps of heaven were hushed, 
and darkness spread her pall over the scene. 

Wrapt in gloom sat the pale w- atchers by the dead — 
father and mother. They shed no tears, for they felt 
their darling was now in her proper sphere — an angel m 
heaven as she had been on earth. But while these 
events were passing, other scenes w^ere being enacted 
in the various portions of the Confederacy, which cast 


an additional lustre upon the Confederate arms. The 
commencement of the year '62 was disastrous to the 
Southern cause, and though many battles were fought, 
few were termed victorious. Many of our brave men 
had fallen upon the various battle-fields, and in particular 
Virginia's soil was crimsoned with the blood of her 
heroes. Tennessee had felt the foot of the invader, and 
Nashville was occupied by the enemy. Her citizens 
turned out of doors, and her most palatial residences 
possessed by the hordes of hirelings that composed the 
Federal army. 

Not content with confiscating property, the vilest 
insults were offered to the families of those brave men 
whom duty to their country left their famihes unpro- 
tected and exposed to their tender mercies. Arrests 
were daily made, and a repetition of the Washington 
style of espionage was instituted. Mrs. Greenhow and 
family's treatment was but tame in comparison with 
that of many others, and the most sacred privileges of 
the female sex were wrested from them, and private 
correspondence of every nature was laid open to the 
world. No family was deemed secure from intrusion at 
any hour, night nor day, and though the ladies feared the 
brutality of those in command, they ever displayed a 
defiant spirit when face to face with their jailors. 
Many fled their homes to return no more, and the man- 
sions that a few weeks before blazed Avith light, and in 
whose halls echoed happy voices, were now dark and 
desolate, and the floors soiled with the dust shaken 
fi'om the feet of the blood-thirsty invaders. Those who 
remained, however, spurned all attempts at recognition, 
or effort of social intercourse with the Yankees. Those 


who had been sufficiently clehided to imagine tliat a 
union sentiment existed in Nashville saw how false the 
impression, when naught met their gaze but scowls, and 
muttered imprecations from the men, and the most un- 
pi tying scorn and intense hatred of the women. No 
condescension on the part of the inhabitants was mani- 
fested, and the insulting foe was soon taught that 
" stone walls do not a prison make," so that the mind 
be free. 

The enemy was harassed in every manner, and the 
dashing and intrepid cavalier, Captain John H. Morgan* 
(since Colonel), was every day performing deeds of 
valour which, for strategy and boldness, rivalled all the 
daring exploits of the time. Heroic acts and chivalrous 
conduct (when the history of this period shall be 
written) will place his name far before that of the 
heroes of the olden time, and when, in after days, we 
shall place the goblet to om- lips, we shall exclaim, with 
Byron — 

" Wer't the last drop in the well, 
As I gasped upon the brink, 
Ere my fainting spirits fell, 

'Tis to thee that I would drink." 

Other men have added to their name a list of deeds 
by which they will be remembered when the present 
generation have passed from earth for ever. One has 
passed from amongst us, but when the grandsires shall 
sit around the blazing fire on winter eves, with their 
young about theh knees, the name of General Ben 
M'Cullock will be breathed forth, and tales of his 

* Afterwards promoted to a General, and since killed. 


wondrous adventures related. His name was long 
known, and already liistorically, when the war broke 
out, and Texas looked to Inm as one of her strongest 
pillars of defence. On the field of San Jacinto and 
Mexico he had won unfading lamels, and in later days 
he was known as the " Texas Ranger." This noble man 
joined his fortunes with those of the Confederacy, and 
was killed at the battle of Elk Horn; standing on a 
slight elevation, he was marked by one of the shai^- 
shooters of the enemy from his conspicuous dress, wliich 
was a black velvet suit, patent leather liigh-top boots, 
and on his head a light-coloured broad-brimmed hat. 
His death was regarded as a national calamity, and 
General Van Dorn, in his official report, declared that 
no successes could repair the loss of the gallant dead 
who had fallen on the well-fought field. 

In this engagement General Mcintosh also fell, shot 
through the heart ; but in hastily reviewing those events 
I will not forget to pay a just tribute to the gallant 
veteran, Major-General Price, and his brave troops, who 
had won glory on other fields than Elk Horn. A more 
gallant commander than General Price the Confederate 
army could not boast of, and not only for his bravery 
and military skill was he remembered, but for his noble 
heart and tender sentiments. On many occasions this 
hardy warrior gave evidence of his humane feelings, but 
particularly on his retreat at the battle of Elk Horn, and 
I can give no better idea of it than quoting the exact 
words of the historian : - " In the progress of the re- 
treat," writes an officer, " every few hundi'ed yards we 
would overtake some wounded soldier. As soon as he 
saw the old General he would cry out, ' General, I am 


wounded ! ' Instantly some vehicle was ordered to s+op, 
and the poor soldier s wants cared for. Again and again 
it occiin-ed, nntil our conveyances were covered with 
the wounded. Another one cried out, ' General, I am 
wounded ! ' The General's head cbopped upon his 
breast, and his eyes, bedimmed with tears, were thrown 
up, and he looked in front, but could see no place to put 
his poor soldier. He discovered sometliing on wheels in 
front, and commanded — * Halt, and put this wounded 
soldier up ; by G — d, I vdW save my wounded, if I lose 
the whole army ! ' " This explains why the old man's 
poor soldiers love him so well. But even he is not 
TN-ithout his enemies, nor his brave soldiers, and it has 
been frequently asked, "Who are Price's men?" and, to 
quote in compliment to ^Missouri's soldiers, we reply, 
" These veteran soldiers never falter in battle. They 
are never whipped ! They do not seek sick furloughs. 
They do not straggle. When battenes are to be taken, 
they tah them ! When an enemy is to be routed, they 
charge him ^yit]l a shout of defiance. They have met 
the foe on fifty battle-fields ! They may be killed, but 
they cannot be conquered ! These are ' Price's men ! ' " 
General Price had under his command troops from 
Arkansas, Mississippi, Texas, Louisiana, and Tennessee, 
as well as those of Missouri ; and when, after the battle 
of Sliiloh, it was resolved to consolidate the armies of 
Price and Van Dorn with that of Beaui'egard, the call 
was responded to vrith. the most self-sacrificing spii-it by 
the Missourians and Arkansans. Their devotion to the 
cause of their country was manifested in the most 
patriotic manner, when, turning their back upon their 
homes, they crossed the Mississippi to fight for other 


portions of tlie broad land, feeling that ultimately they 
would rescue their own State from the detested control 
of the enemy. General Price's address to his army, 
though properly belonging to history, I cannot resist 
introducing here, teeming, as it does, with beauty, 
patriotism, and flow of soul, which seems to have 
gushed forth from his honest, manly heart in unfettered 
language, like one of the mighty streams of his native 
State : — ■ 

" Head Quarters Missouri State Guard, 
"Des Homes Arkansas, April 3rd, 1862. 
" Soldiers of the State Guard ! 

" I command you no longer. I have this day re- 
signed the commission which your patient endurance, 
your devoted patriotism, and yom' dauntless bravery 
have made so honourable. I have done this that I may 
the better serve you, our State, and our country ; that 
I may the sooner lead you back to the fertile prairies, 
the rich woodlands, and the majestic streams of our 
beloved Missouri ; that I may the more certainly restore 
you to your once happy homes and to the loved ones 

"Five thousand of those who have fought side by 
side with us under the grizzly bears of Missouri have 
followed me into the Confederate camp. They appeal 
to you, as I do, by all the tender memories of the past, 
not to leave us now, but to go with us wherever the 
path of duty may lead, till we shall have conquered a 
peace, and won our independence by brilliant deeds 
upon new fields of battle. 

" Soldiers of the State Guard ! veterans of six 



pitched battles, and nearly twenty sliinnislies ! con- 
querors in them all! your country, with its 'ruined 
hearths and shrines,' calls upon you to rally once more 
in her defence, and rescue her for ever fi'om the terrible 
tlu-aldom which threatens her. I know that she will 
not call hi vain. The insolent and barbarous liordes 
which have dared to invade om* soil, and to desecrate 
oiu' homes, have just met with a signal overthrow 
beyond the Mississippi. Now^ is the time to end this 
mihappy w^ar. If every man will but do his duty, his 
own roof will shelter him in peace fi'om the storms of 
the coming winter. 

" Let not history record that the men who bore with 
patience the privations of Cowskin Prairie, wdio endured 
uncomplamingly the biu'nmg heats of a ]\Iissouri sum- 
mer, and the frosts and snows of a Missouri winter ; 
that the men who met the enemy at Carthage, Oak 
Hills, at Fort Scott, at Lexington, and in numberless 
lesser battle-fields in Missouri, and met them but to 
conquer ; that the men who fought so bravely and so 
well at Elk tloin ; that the unpaid soldiery of Missouri 
were, after so many victories, and after so much suffer- 
mg, unequal to the great task of achieving an mde- 
pendence of their magnificent State. 

" Soldiers ! I go but to mark a pathw^ay to om* 
homes. Follow me ! 

*' Sterling Price." 



** But hark ! that heavy sound breaks in once more, 
As if the clouds its echo would repeat ; 
And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before ! 
Arm ! Arm !— it is— it is— the cannon's opening roar ! 

" Ah ! then and there was hurrying to and fro. 
And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, 
And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago 
Blush'd at the praise of their own loveliness, 
And there were sudden partings, such as press 
The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs 
Which ne'er might be repeated ; who could guess 
If ever more should meet those mutual eyes. 
Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise ! 

" And there was mounting in hot haste : the steed, 
The mustering squadrou, and the clattering car, 
Went pouring forward with impetuous speed. 
And swiftly forming in the ranks of war ; 
And the deep thunder peal on peal afar ; 
And, near, the beat of the alarming drum 
Roused up the soldier ere the morning star ; 
While throng'd the citizens, with terror dumb. 
Or whispering with white lips, 'The foe!— they come!— they 

The morning of the 24th of April, '62 dawned upon the 
most important event of the times. An event that will 
long be remembered, and one that cast gloom over the 
whole Confederacy. 

R 2 


New Orleans had long been considered an impreg- 
nable point, and the inhabitants had considered them- 
selves perfectly secm-e in their defences of coast and 
river. Vast sums had been expended on the nver 
batteries, and the city itself was supposed to be occupied 
by a large and well-disciplined force under command of 
General Lovell, and in its harbour was a fleet consist- 
ing of twelve gun-boats, one u'on-clad steamer, and the 
famous ram " Manasses." The outer line of defences were 
Forts Jackson and St. Philhp, some sixty miles below 
the city, and General Duncan, who was said to be the 
best artillerist in the Confederate service, was in 

The bombardment of these forts by the Federal 
fleet, had continued some time without much damage, 
and though 25,000 thirteen-inch shells had been thrown 
within the forts, the Federals only succeeded in dis- 
mounting some guns, and killing five men and wound- 
ing ten. 

On the 23rd the news from the forts was encourag- 
ing, but on the morning of the 24th the Federal fleet 
steamed up the stream to the forts, and opened fire 
upon them and the gun-boats. Soon the strife became 
furious, and in one hour several of the attacking sliips 
sailed past the forts. Owing to the night-signals being 
the same as those of the Confederates, the vessels were 
not discovered until abreast of the batteries. 

The conflict now became deadly, and the forts 
belched forth fii-e fi'om ail the guns that could be 
brought to bear ; but it was too late to produce much 
impression, and the " Hartford," commanded by Comman- 
der Farragut, led the van, and the Federal fleet pushed 


on through the storm of shot and shell. On the other 
hand, the Confederate fleet, which consisted of only 
seventeen vessels in all, eight of which only were armed, 
disputed with desperation the pass, and fought against 
overwhelming odds, until they were driven on shore. 
These vessels were scuttled or burned by then- own 
commanders. The "Manasses" was run ashore and sunk, 
and the famous "Louisiana," the great kon-clad, could not 
be brought into action, as her machinery was not in 
good working order. Fifty-two killed and wounded, 
were the total loss of tliis contest ; amongst the latter 
was Commander Mcintosh, desperately wounded. In 
the fiercest of tlie strife, he and Commander Mitchell 
stood on the deck of the " Louisiana." 

Valiantly that little fleet withstood the attack, and 
towards the close of the action, and just as the "Doub- 
loon" appeared in view, the "Iroon" was about over- 
hauling her, when the " Governor Moore," commanded 
by Captain Beverley Kennon, darted upon the " Iroon," 
and ran into her three times. The Federal vessel 
managed to escape, and was again about capturmg the 
" Governor Moore," when the " Quitman " ran into her 
amid-ship, and smik her, thus allowing General Lovell 
to make his escape. But Captain Kennon, the last to 
yield, sped down the river into the midst of the Mam- 
moth fleet— dasliing hither and thither, attacking first 
one and then another of his monstrous antagonists. 
Being ordered repeatedly to haul down his flag, which 
floated defiantly in the face of the foe, he would answer, 
" Come and take it down, if you can." 

" Haul do^^^l that flag," repeated the Federal com- 


" Never ! " replied Captain Kennon, as he answered 
with a volley of shot. 

Again came the command, " Haul down that flag, or 
I'll fire into you ! " 

" Fire ! " he added, with a strong objurgation, at 
the same time firing away his last romid oi ammu- 
nition, and, seeing that he would be captured, he 
sprang to tlie bow of the vessel, and dra^dng his sword 
fi'om the scabbard, broke it across his knee, exclaiming 
" I .w411 never sm-render this to a d — ned Yankee." 
Then, perceiving the Federals about to board the vessel, 
he drew his pistol, and ainimg at one, fired, and the 
splash which followed the report, told of the precision of 
the aim. 

The wounded lay thick upon the deck of the " Gover- 
nor Moore," a,nd though Caj^tain Kennon felt that he no 
longer possessed the means of fighting the foe, he 
determined not to yield, and seizing a torch, set fire to 
the vessel and then sprang into the river, hoping to 
swim to shore, but was captui'ed after some resistance, 
being only sKghtly wounded. Refusing to take the 
oath of parole, he was sent on board the "Cayuga," 
which vessel bore him to Fort Wan-en, where he re- 
mained some three months, and then, being exchanged, 
arrived shortly afterwards in Richmond, and once more 
proffered liis services to the Confederacy. He may well 
be styled the Hero of Fort Jackson, and his valorous 
conduct elicited comphment even from his enemies. 
The Northern jom-nals teemed with accounts of his 
gallant behaviom*, and articles headed " Honom* to 
whom honom- is due," " Give the Devil his due," etc., 
were devoted to anecdotes of his chivalrous deeds. 


When all tlie other vessels of the Confederate fleet had 
lowered then- flags at the command of the invader, or 
by force, one alone remained floating defiant alike of 
threat or force, and when Captain Kennon was /Sent to 
Fort Warren, it was on the criminal charge of having 
kept the standard raised when the rest of the fleet had 
surrendered. The officers of the Federal navy recog- 
nised in this hero their friend of former days, and 
Captain Kennon did not sever the ties of sixteen years' 
companionship with many of those without regret. But 
a Virginian by birth, he sprang from a race of heroes, 
and his father will long be remembered as the gallant 
Commodore Kennon who was blown up on board the 
" Princeton " several years since. He left two sons, one 
the subject of this sketch, and the other, Captain Dan- 
bridge Kennon, wdio with his brave cousin, the gallant 
J. E. B. Stewart, fought and won laurels from the 
commencement of hostilities. Allied to the families of 
George Washington (through the Custis's), the Lee's, 
and Butlers, Ave are not surprised at Captain Kennon's 
deeds of valour. The "Governor Moore" being the 
last antagonist, the Federals had nothing further to 
fear from the fleet, and slowdy they passed on towards 
the city. The citizens of New Orleans, startled from 
their slumber of repose and by the tolling of the alarm 
bells, supposed that the foe had passed the forts, and 
were approaching the city. The entire city was thrown 
into a state of commotion, and the whole of its inhabi- 
tants rushed into the streets, each enquiiing the 
meaning of the excitement, and when they were told ot 
their danger they could not beheve it, until General 
Lovell arrived, at 2 P. M., from the forts. The river forts 


had not fallen, but two of the enemy's gun-boats actually 
threatened the city and the works at Chalmette ; five 
32-pounders on one side of the river and nine on the 
other, still remained intact. The civil authorities of 
New Orleans entreated the Confederate commander to 
retire from the city, as it was feared a bombardment 
would be the result if he did not. General Lovell 
ordered his troops to Camp Moore, a distance of some 
seventy miles above New Orleans. Farragut made a 
formal demand for the surrender of the command, which 
General Lovell refused, and told the officers who bore 
the message that he w^ould attack any troops that 
iniglit land. General Loyell held an interview with 
Mayor Monroe and offered to hold the city as long as 
there was a man left. But this sacrifice of life w^as 
deemed unnecessary, as the few raw and poorly armed 
infantry could do notliing against the fleet, and the 
whole force then in the city amounted to only 2,800 
men. Language can give no idea of the scene whicli 
followed the order for evacuation. Through an avenue 
of grief and woe indescribable, the Confederate soldiers 
passed on the way to the trains which were to bear 
them fi'om their homes, and all they held dear. Slowly 
they passed on through the difierent streets, and hushed 
and awful was the tread of their feet, like their now 
muffled hopes. Stem was their look, and they scarce 
dared a glance of adieu to the fafr wdio bade them 
" God speed " thi'ough theu* tears and sobs. No di'ums 
sounded, not a note was heard, but the beatmg of many 
hearts was in imison with the dirge-like sounds of 
mourning wliich were wafted on the whids of Heaven 
to the ear of the brave little band, who were forced to 


see their beautiful city polluted by the footsteps of the 

Lovely in their sorrow even, stood the women of 
New Orleans, waving farewell to the heroes, and 
some in their desolation reminded one of the daughters 
of Zion hanging their harps on the willows by the 
waters of Babylon. Some stood calm as statues, with 
clasped hands and tearless eyes, while others wept 
convulsively, and some again gazed upon the scene 
with heaving bosoms and kindling eyes. The latter 
were predominant, and by their manner convinced the 
parting fathers, husbands, sons, and brothers, that 
there was nought to fear for. them, and that should a 
brutal soldiery take possession of then- city, there yet 
remained a protection agamst the foe, viz., nerve to 
plant the steel deep in the heart of the dastard who 
should dare to outrage or oppress them. Carriages, 
with the fau-est and loveliest of the city, were rolling 
on towards the depot to bid a passionate farewell to 
departing friends, and when the train moved off with 
the mass of human freight, it was amidst tears, bless- 
ings, and sobs. But hope yet remained, and the citizens 
of New Orleans believed their city still secure, as forts 
Jackson and 'Phillip had not fallen. Alas ! on the 
morning of the next day the Federal fleet turned the 
point and came in sight of the city. 

The Confederate troops were still busy in the evacu- 
ation, and the streets were thronged with all descrip- 
tions of vehicles, laden with every article of warfare. 
Mounted officers were galloping to and fro, in a state of 
the greatest excitement, and the streets were crowded 
with persons, who were laden A\ath provisions plundered 


from the public stores, while others, more patriotic, were 
busy in destroying property wliich would prove of value 
to tlie enemy, and huge loads of cotton were seen 
rumbling along on the way to the levee. 

When the Federal fleet made its appearance, it was 
amidst the smoke of burning cotton, and the stifling 
odom- of the sugar and bacon consigned to the flames. 
Vast columns of flame rose in the air, and ^ded ^\'ith the 
suiiKght, and sublimely grand became the scene, when 
the torch was set to the steam-boats, ships, and gun- 
boats which were m the river, and they were sent 
floatuig down the stream into the midst of the enemy's 
fleet, threatening destruction to it. In the sacrifice was 
included the celebrated iron-clad frigate the "Mississippi," 
which was accounted the most important naval structure 
the Confederate Government hadyet undertaken. Fifteen 
thousand bales were consumed, the value of wliich was 
estimated at a milKon and a-half of dollars. The specie 
of the banks, to the amount of twelve or fifteen millions, 
was removed fi-om the city, and placed in conceahnent 
as well as all the stores and moveable property of the 
Confederate States. Thus when the Federal Comman- 
der took possession of the city, a few days afterwards, 
it was to find it deserted, and in pla<5e of the royal 
monarch " Khig Cotton," whom he had expected to grace 
his triumphal entrance, he found only the smoking 
funeral pyre of this Sardanapohs. Throughout the city 
deeds of lieroism were being enacted, and in CaiTollton 
the cannon Avere spiked by ]\lrs. Brown and her maid, 
while the delicate hands of the fonner were swollen and 
bleedmg fi-om her patnotic effort to prevent the guns 
being of use to the enemy. New Orleans shoifld remem- 


ber this fair lady aiul her spii'ited conduct. BeautiM 
and delicate, you would scarcely suppose her possessed 
of such nerve — to gaze upon her when her beautiful 
di'eamy eyes were in repose. Her husband had left 
with his command, and she remained to do what she 
could for the cause of her country. 

The city was now under the jm^isdiction of Mayor 
Monroe, and nohly^ gallantly^ did he perform his part 
in this trying hour. To the demand from Flag Officer 
Farragut to the Mayor, that all the flags should be hauled 
down that were flying from the various public buildings 
in the city, the latter replied, that the citizens of New 
Orleans yielded to physical force alone, and that they 
maintained their allegiance to the Confederate States. 
On the 26th of April, however, a force landed from the 
sloop-of-war " Peusacola " lying opposite Esplanade 
Street, and hoisted a United States flag upon the Mint. 
The excitement was intense, and this was the moment 
in which an act was done, that in a few days after 
added one more martyr to the list of Confederates. In 
that crowd stood one in whose eyes flashed indignant 
fire, and with whom to think was to act, when, mount- 
ing to the dome, he tore the emblem of oppression from 
the staff*, and descending with it, he was joined by others, 
who trailed it through the dust of the streets, until it 
was soiled and in rags. 

Flag-Officer Farragut, exasperated beyond all boimds, 
determined to spare no mortification to a city, whose 
only protection was now in its civil officers. The State 
flag still floated from the City Hall, an emblem of State 
sovereignty, nothing more, yet it was required that this 
should be lowered by the citizens. 


Again the fair and lovely women of New Orleans 
proved their claims to an immortal wreath of glory^ 
when the proudest and wealthiest of them signed a 
memorial, praying the Common Council to protect at 
least the emblem of their State sovereignty from insult. 
The copy of the memorial I place before you : — 

" This petition was drawn up and signed by some 
fifty to sixty names before it was known that the Mayor 
and Council had decided upon their reply to Captain 
Farragnit's ultimatum : 

*' To the Honom-able the Mayor and Common Council of 
the city of New Orleans : — 

" The petition of the wives, the daughters, the 
mothers and the sisters of your constituents : — 

"Understanding that Flag-Officer FaiTagut, com- 
manding the naval squadi'on now tln-eatening the city, 
has given notice to the authorities to haul down the 
Louisiana State flag from the City Hall, and to make a 
formal act of suiTcnder of the city of New Orleans, Tsdth 
the alternative of remo\dng the women and childi'en 
Avithin forty-eight hours, we do pray yom- Jlonour and 
yom- honourable body to refuse to sm-render the city, or 
to haul down the flag, which is the emblem of the 
sovereignty of Louisiana, promising you om* counte- 
nance and support." 

On the 28th of Apiil Flag-Oflicer FaiTagut addressed 
his ultimatum to the Mayor, and tlu-eatening a bombard- 
ment of the city, and notification to remove the women 
and children within forty-eight hours. 

I place these, too, before you, not, kind reader, to 


weary yon with useless detail, but to prove the worth 
of one who held within his hand the fair fame of the 
Crescent City, and though hie was a deUcate and respon- 
sible duty, he proved bis claims to the eternal gratitude 
of all by his dignified, resolute, and heroic conduct :— 

"U. S. Flag-ship "Hartford," 
" At Anchor off the city of New Orleans, 
"April 28th, 1862. 

" To liis Honour the Mayor and City Council of the city 
of New Orleans : — 
" Yoiu- communication of the 26th instant has been 
received, together with that of the City Council. 

"1 deeply regret to see, both by their contents, and 
the continued display of the flag of Louisiana on the 
court-house, a detennination on the part of the city 
authoi-ities not to haul it down. Moreover, when my 
officers and men were sent on shore to communicate 
with the authorities, and to hoist the United States flag 
on the Custom House, with the strictest order not to 
use their arms unless assailed, they were insulted m the 
grossest manner, and the flag which had been hoisted 
by my orders on the Mint, was pulled down and dragged 
through the streets. 

" All of which go to show that the fire of this fleet 
may be drawn upon the city at any moment, and m 
such an event the levee would in all probability be cut 
by the shells, and an amount of distress ensue to the 
imiocent population, which I have heretofore endea- 
voured to assure you that I desired by all means 
to avoid. The election is therefore with you. But 


it becomes my duty to notify you to remove the 
women and childi-en from the city ^\dtliin forty-eight 
hom'S, if I have ligTitly iindei'stood your determination. 
" Veiy respectfully your obechent sei-vant, 

" (Signed) D. G. Farragut, 

" Flag-Officer, Western Gulf Blockading 
" Squacbon." 

The Mayor replied verbally to the communication, 
by sapng he would call the Council together, and send 
a communication to the Flag-Officer to-morrow morning. 

After the reception of Captain Farragut's com- 
munication, the Mayor convened the City Comicil, 
wliich met at 2 o'clock in joint session. 

Home Department. 
Action of the City Authorities. 

The Mayors message to the Common Council ; Action 
of that Body ; Mayors Reply to Commodore Farragut^ s 
Renewed Demand; His Letter^ Announcing the Surrender 
of the Forts. 

The following is the Mayor's message to the Council, 
accompanpng Flag-Officer's communication, received 
yesterday : — 

" Mayoralty of New Orleans. ' 

" aty HaU, April 28th, 1862. 
" Gentlemen of the Common Council, 

" I herewith transmit to you a communication from 
Flag-Officer FaiTagTit, commanding the United States' 
fleet now lying in front of this city. I have informed 
the officer bearing the communication that I would lay 


it before you, and return such answer as the city 
authorities might deem proper to be made. 

" In the meantime, permit me to suggest that Flag- 
Officer Farragut appears to have misimdorstood the 
City of New Orleans. He has been distinctly informed 
that, at this moment, the city has no power to impede 
the exercise of such acts of forcible authority as the 
Commander of the United States' naval forces may 
choose to exercise ; and that, therefore, no resistance 
could be offered to the occupation of the city by the 
United States' forces. If it is deemed necessary to 
remove the flag now floating from this building, or to 
raise United States' flags on others, the power which 
tlnreatens the destruction of our city is certainly capable 
of performing those acts. New Orleans is not now a 
military post ; there is no military commander within 
its limits ; it is like an unoccupied fortress, of which 
an assailant may at any moment take possession. 
But I do not beheve that the constituency repre- 
sented by you or by me embraces one loyal citizen 
who would be wilhng to incur the odium of tearing 
down the symbol representing the State authority to 
wliich New Orleans owes her municipal existence. I 
am deeply sensible of the distress which would be 
brought upon our community by a consummation of 
the mhuman threats of the United States' commander ; 
but I cannot conceive that those who so recently 
declared themselves to be animated by a Christian 
spirit, and by a regard for the rights of private pro- 
perty, would venture to incur for themselves and the 
government they represent, the universal execration of 
the ci\4hzed world, by attempting to achieve, through a 


wanton destiiiction of life and property, that which they 
can accomphsh without bloodshed, and ^vithout a resoi*t 
to those hostile measures which the law of nations 
condemns and execrates, when employed upon the 
defenceless women and children of an unresisting city. 
" Very respectfully, 

" John T. Monroe, Mayor." 

The following is the resolution of the City Council, 
after receiving the Mayor s message : — 

Resolved — "That the views communicated by his 
Honour the Mayor to the Common Council, respecting 
the answer which it behoves the City of New Orleans 
to retm-n to the ultimatum of Flag-Officer Farragut, 
meet the um-eserved approbation of this Council, and 
embody their own views and sentiments, and the Mayor 
is therefore respectfully requested to act accordingly. 

" S. P. De Labarre, President, pro tem.^ 

" of Board of Aldermen. 
" J. Magioni, President Board Assistant 
" Alderman. 
"Approved April 28th, 1862, 

" John T. Monroe, Mayor. 
" A true copy, 

" M. A. B.VKER, Secretary to Mayor." 

The following is the Mayor's reply to the com- 
munication of Flag-Officer Fari'agut, received yester- 
day : — 

"City Hall, New Orleans, April 29th, 1862. 
" To Flag-Officer D. C. Farragut, 
''U. S. Flag-Ship 'Hartford.' 
"Sir, — Your communication is the first intimation 


I ever liad that it was by * your strict orders ' that 
the United States' flag was attempted to be hoisted 
upon certain of our public edifices, by officers sent on 
shore to connnunicate with the authorities. The officers 
who approached me, in your name, disclosed no such 
order, and intimated no such design on your part ; nor 
could I have for a moment entertamed the remotest 
suspicion that they could have been invested with such 
powers to enter on such an errand, while the negotiation 
for a surrender between you and the city authorities 
were still pending. The mterference of any one, under 
your command, as long as these negotiations were not 
brought to a close, could not be viewed by me otherwise 
than as a flagrant violation of those coui-tesies, if 
not the absolute rights, which prevail between belli- 
gerents under such cncumstances. My views and my 
sentiments, with reference to such conduct, remam 

" You now renew the demand made in your former 
communication, and you insist on then being comphed 
with, unconditionally, under a threat of bombardment, 
within forty-eight hours ; and you notify me to remove 
the women and children from the city, that they may be 
protected from your shells. 

" Sn, you cannot but know that there is no possible 
exit from this city for a population which still exceeds 
in number one hundred and forty thousand, and you 
must, therefore, be aware of the utter inanity of such a 
notification. Our women and children cannot escape 
from your shells, if it be your pleasure to murder them 
on a mere question of etiquette ; but, if they could, 
there are but few among them who would consent to 



desert their families and their homes, and the graves of 
their relatives, in so awful a moment; they would 
bravely stand the sight of your shells rolling over the 
bones of those who were once dear to them, and would 
deem that they died not ingloriously by the side of the 
tombs erected by their piety to the memoiy of departed 

" You are not satisfied with the peaceable possession 
of an undefended city, opposing no resistance to yoiu- 
guns, because of its beaiing its doom with some manli- 
ness and dignity ; and you wish to humble and disgrace 
us by the performance of an act against which our 
nature rebels. This satisfaction you cannot expect to 
obtain at our hands. 

"We will stand your bombardment, imarmed and 
undefended as we are. The civilized world will consign 
to indelible infamy the heart that will conceive the deed 
and the hand that will dare to consummate it. 
" Respectfully, 

" John T. Monroe, Mayor." 

The following letter was received by the ^layor this 
morning from Flag-Officer Farragut : — 

"U.S. Flag-ship 'Hartford,' 

'^ At anchor off the City of New Orleans. 

"April 29th, 1862. 

" To His Honoiu' the Mayor and City Council 
of the City of Orleans. 

"Gentlemen, — The Forts St. Phillip and Jackson 
having surrendered, and all the military defences of the 


city being either capitulated or abandoned, you are re- 
quii'ed, as the sole representative of any supposed autho- 
rity in the city, to haul down and suppress ^very ensign 
and symbol of government, whether State or Confederate, 
except that of the United States. I am now about to 
raise the flag of the United States upon the Custom 
House, and you will see that it is respected with all the 
civil power of the city. 

" I have the honour to be, very respectfully, your 
obedient servant, 

" D. G. Farragut, 
"Flag-Officer, Western Gulf, Blockading 


Correspondence between the Mayor and Captain 
Farragut : — 

The following letters conclude the correspondence 
which has been gomg on for several days between 
the U.S. Flag-Officer and the Mayor of this city. 
It will be seen from the letter of Captain Farragut 
that he seeks to vindicate himself from the conclu- 
sion that he intended to threaten the city in a certain 
event. We would further add, in justification of the 
construction placed by the Mayor and the people, and 
we may say of the foreign Consuls, on Flag-Officer Far- 
ragut's letter, that when Commander Bell delivered the 
last letter to the Mayor the following conversation oc- 
cm'red : — 

Mayor Monroe — "As I consider this a threat to bom- 
bard the city, and as it is a matter about which the 
notice should be clear and specific, I desire to know 
when the forty-eight hom's began to run ? " 

s 2 


Commander Bell — "It begins from the time you 
receive this notice." 

The Major then drew his watch, and showing it to 
Commander Bell, said, " Then you see it is fifteen 
minutes past twelve o'clock." 

The Commander recognised the coiTectness of the 
time, and made some remarks, which were understood 
by all present to convey distinctly the threat, that if 
the flag was not hauled down in forty-eight hom's, the 
city would be shelled. 

The letters below were laid before the Council by 
the Mayor, but the Council did not see any necessity 
for any action on them : — 

*' Mayoralty of New Orleans, 

" City Hall, May 1st, 1862. 

*' To the Common Council in Joint Session. 

*' Gentlemen, — I herewith lay before you a copy of 
a communication received yesterday from Flag-Officer 
Farragut. You will observe that the note mtimates a 
misinterpretation on the part of the city authorities of 
Flag-Officer Farragut's previous communication. I ven- 
tm-e to say, gentlemen, that no reasoning mind can fail 
to place on the note of ]\Ionday, the 28th instant, the 
interpretation attached to it by the people of this city. 
The notification to remove om- women and childi'en 
within forty-eight hom*s, in case we adhered to our reso- 
lution not to haul down our flag, can be construed in no 
other way than as a tlu'eat to bombard the city. The 
meaning was plain, not only to us, but to the Consuls of 
the foreign nations residing here. But in so clear a case 
argument is superfluous. 


"Flag-Officer Farragut informs us that, in conse- 
quence of the offensive nature of our answer to his 
threat, he dechnes fiu'ther communication with us, and 
shall, on the arrival of General Butler, hand the city 
over to his charge. He certainly should be conscious 
that the city of New Orleans sought no communication 
with him or his forces, and that the cessation of inter- 
com'se, while it depended entirely on his will, could not 
fail to be quite as agreeable to us as to him. 

" It would add still further to our gratification should 
General Butler find it equally unpleasant to hold com- 
munication with the city. 

" Respectfully, 
(Signed) " John T. Monroe, Mayor." ' 

'•U. S. Flag-ship 'Hartford,' 
*' At Anchor off the City of New Orleans, 
"April 30th, 1862. J 

"To His Honom- the Mayor and City Council of New 

" Gentlemen, — I informed you in my communication 
of 28th of April, that your determination, as I under- 
stood it, was not to haul doAvn the flag of Louisiana on 
the City Hall, and that my officers and men were treated 
with insult and rudeness when they landed, even with a 
flag of truce, to communicate with the authorities, &c., 
and that if such was to be the determined com'se of the 
people, the fire of the vessels might at any moment be 
drawn upon the city. 

" This you have thought proper to construe into a 
determination on my part to mm'der your women and 


children, and made your letter so offensive that it will 
terminate oiu* intercourse, and so soon as GeneralJButler 
anives ^^th his force, I shall turn over the charge of 
the city to him, and resume my naval duties. 

" Very respectfully, your obedient servant, 

" (Signed) D. G. Farragut. 

♦' Flag-Officer, AVestern Gulf, Blockading Squadron." 

Thus he forced the insolent foe to perfoiTQ this act 
of insult, and reluctantly Flag-Officer Farragut con- 
sented to send his own forces to take down the flag. 
At noon appeared a force of about two hundred aiTaed 
marines, and a number of sailors, dragging two brass 
howitzers, and the officer in command mounting to the 
dome of the building, removed the flag of the State, in 
sight of an immense crowed, who stood viewing this act 
^\ath a solemn and sad regard. The stillness was awful 
of that vast assembly, and the tears bedewed the cheeks 
of stern men, as w^eU as fair maidens. The scene of 
humiliation was over, and as the crowd dispersed for 
their homes, the silent grasp of the hand spoke volumes, 
and told of the agony of heart with which they left the 
spot. An incident of the time is well deserving of 

A prominent citizen — one of tlie city fathers — passing 
the residence of one of om- most patriotic and wann- 
hearted women, not a thousand miles from the City Hall, 
and seeing the ladies of the house on the front steps, 
saluted them, and entered into conversation respecting 
the events of the hour. He remarked upon the demand 
of Commodore Farragut to haul down our flag from the 
City Hall, and said that if even the Mayor and Council 


came to the determination to yield, there was no man 
to be found wilKng to perform the himiiliating and 
craven act. He then, by way^of banter, said to one of 
the ladies : — 

" Won't yon relieve us from the difficulty, and go up 
to the roof and take the flag down ?" 

To which she replied, " Yes^ I ivill go tip, but ivill 
take a hammer with me, and nail the flag to the flag- 

We wish it were possible to transfer to paper the 
spirit and manner of the utterance of tliis noble and 
fearless woman. The expression of her feelings was 
worthy of her — worthy of the cause, and a fit represen- 
tation of the sentiment which animated both sexes. In 
this moment of excitement, the most shameful and 
outrageous scandals were being cnculated, and with- 
out grounds or satisfactory evidence. Generals Lovell 
and Duncan, though they had done all that. men 
could do to defend forts Jackson and St. Phillip, were 
by the ignorant, rash, and inconsiderate, pronounced 
" traitors." General Lovell acted upon the advice of 
the Mayor and City Council, and General Duncan only 
surrendered when the soldiers tlireatened to fire upon 
then- own officers, and spiked their gims. He had no 
other resource than to haul down his flag, and when on 
his return he made his address to the citizens of New 
Orleans, he wept like a child. But even for the poor 
worn out, weary soldiers there is some excuse for this 
conduct, as they had been exposed for many days to the 
furious and terrible fire of the bombardment, having been 
in water to their waists dming the whole time. One com- 
pany, however, refused to join the rest of the garrison 


in tliis act of mutiny, and in letters of gold let theii- 
names shine for ever, the " St. Mary's CvxxoxiERS." 

The Mayor thanked General Duncan, in the name of 
the citizens, for his gallant conduct, and the Hon. Pieri'e 
Soule was called upon to express to General Duncan 
the sentiments of the people, and that he would be held 
in everlasting remembrance for his gallant conduct. 
This scene was void of foiinality, and had no display or 
useless parade. In the hearts of all honest individuals 
Generals Lovell and Duncan were awarded their proper 
praise and merited admiration. 

An article appearing about this time. General Lovell 
presumed it refeiTed to him, and accordingly responded. 
Both are worthy of pei-usal, and I place them before 

"Fallen but not Disgraced. 

" Let us not be humiliated. New Orleans has borne 
herself in this great struggle as became the renown of 
her people. She has fought, singly and alone, T\4th her 
own resources, and those of a small State, ^\'ith less 
than half a million of population, the naval and nnlitaiy 
power of a great nation of twenty millions of people, 
and with vast military resources. She has kept that 
hostile nation at bay for more than twelve months. She 
has only yielded now to an overT\^helming power. Her 
only protection, the forts below the city, have held out 
for ten days against a hostile squadi'on, can-ying over 
thi-ee hundred guns, including mortars of unusual calibre, 
and against a land and naval force of many thousands. 
It was only when the small garrisons of these forts 
were worn out and exhausted b^^ the constant toil and 


sleeplessness of an uninterrupted bombardment of ten 
days that they succumbed. When the United States' 
squadron succeeded stealthily in passing the forts, they 
were met by a small and weak squadron of gunboats, 
which grappled their huge ships, and fought until they 
were sunk or blown up. The success of the hostile 
squadron in passing the forts left the city at their mercy. 
The surface of the Mississippi, now at its highest stage, 
gave their four large frigates, can-ying over one hundred 
large guns, and then- ten smaller ships, bearing as many 
more, complete range of our streets and houses. It was 
folly long to resist such a power. Our troops had left 
the city. There only remained the foreign brigades, 
the non-combatants, the women and children. The 
demeanour of these was noble and heroic beyond all 

When on a point of etiquette to them, but a point of 
honom- to us, the city was menaced with a bombard- 
ment, there was no panic, no hesitation, no fear. 
Awful as the consequences would have been in such a 
city, with no place to retreat save the swamps, already sub- 
merged, the people cheerfully awaited the fate with which 
they were threatened. If the men had dared to yield 
the point of honour, the women would have scourged 
them from the city ; but there was no yielding. The 
civil authorities were worthy of the people. No flag 
was lowered by them, none hoisted but that which the 
enemy alone could by his physical force raise. The in 
vader met no friend, no ally, no sympathizer among us ; 
the people presented their breasts to his guns and bayo- 
nets, in a solid phalanx. 

Thus far, we can honestly say that, except in the 


inconsistent, unauthorised, and cruel demand of the 
commanding oflScer of the fleet relative to the State 
flag, and, in the event of refusal, the menace to bombard 
the city, the enemy has bonie himself wdth digTiity 
and propriety. The terms yielded to the gallant gar- 
rison of our forts were honourable. The officers retired 
on their parole Avith their side-arms. The highest tributes 
were paid by the enemy to the heroism of the defence. 

The United States' flag waves over the city. It is 
the flag of the conqueror. Its presence has made doubly 
dear the standard which it has displaced. That will be 
embalmed in the hearts and memories of this people. 

This sad fate has come upon our city from no fault 
of om' people and authorities. Louisiana was left alone 
to defend this great city. The forts were prepared, 
armed and defended exclusively by the troops of this 
State ; the river by hastily constructed gunboats, 
manned by om- ovm. volunteers. The Government at 
Eichmond gave us Httle aid, and, indeed, embaiTassed 
us by the aid which it attempted to give. The defences 
would have been stronger and more formidable if a Con- 
federate naval officer had never had command in oui' 
river. The lack of energy and earnestness on the part 
of the agents of the Confederate Government deprived 
us of the most powerful of our resom'ces for defence. 
Indeed, had not our resources been drained for the 
defences of other and far less important portions of the 
Confederacy, Louisiana would have had ample means 
for the maintenance of her own integrity ; but we had 
already nearly exhausted our militaiy resources to pro- 
tect distant sections of our Confederacy. 

There is another source of consolation to us. All 


the great cities of the world have been subjected to the 
humihation which we are now passing through. Paris, 
Vienna, Moscoav, London, Madrid, Antwerp, and all the 
great capitals of Europe, have in their tiu-n been occu- 
pied by hostile armies. So, too, in our o^vn country, 
Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Washington, Charles- 
ton, and Savannah, have had to succumb to invaders. 
There is no disgrace or dishonour in this. The only dis- 
grace and dishonour that can come to us will be when 
we surrender the convictions of our minds, the loyalty 
of our hearts, and the duties of our conscience. The 
physical victory has been won by the invader ; it is for 
us to see that the moral victory is om*s. 

General Lovell. 
We publish below a letter from General Lovell, 
which presents a clear and satisfactory vindication of 
his course in the defence of this city. The statements 
of General Lovell, we believe, are fully sustained by the 
facts. In vindication of ourselves for the allusion to 
which the General takes exception, we beg to say that 
he never was in the contemplation of the writer in 
reference to lack of energy and earnestness on the 
part of the agents of the Confederate Government. We 
believe, on the contrary, that General Lovell, so far 
from being obnoxious to the charge of a lack of earnest- 
ness and energy, accomplished with the resources placed 
at his command, results of a character which have 
excited general surprise and admiration. There were 
other parties who were in our view in the allusion to 
which the General takes exception, who did not prove 
equal to the occasion. 


We would fLU*ther add, that in the several allusions 
to the evacuation of the city by General Lovell, Ave do 
not think it was intended by any sober-thinldng person 
to convey any censure or any doubt as to ihjd propriety 
of General Lovell's conduct in withdrawing his troops 
fi'om the city after the fortifications had been forced by 
the enemy. Left with only an infontry force, General 
Lovell remained in the city after the enemy's fleet had 
anchored in its port. He was willing and ready to 
share the fate of the city; but it was evident that he 
was not only impotent for defence, but the enemy, AAath 
his command of the river, would have had it in his 
power to reduce the city to stai-vation, by cutting off all 
communication T\dth the interior. Besides, the continu- 
ation of the troops iii the city would have exposed it to 
a bombardment, in which the enemy would have been 
justified by the laws of war, a gamsoned town being 
always subject to such a fate. If General Lovell had 
had five or ten times the infantry force which he really 
had, he could not have made any adequate defence 
against the enemy's powerful fleet. His retirement was, 
therefore, not only an act of sound policy and wisdom, 
but one of absolute necessity for the salvation of the 
city from the most terrible disaster, as well as for the 
seciuity of the army, which General Lovell has saved to 
lead to other fields, where their valour may be made 
available for the maintenance and defence of our cause. 

"Xew Orleans, April 29th, 1862. 
" To Judge Walker. 

" Dear Sir. — In the ' Evening Delta,' in an article 
headed ' Fallen but not Disgraced,' this expression 


occurs : — ' The lack of energy and earnestness on the 
part of the agents of the Confederate Government,' &c. 
' " This includes me in its sweep, and I think un- 
justly. AVhen I came here, but a few short months 
since, I found the State completely defenceless ; its 
ports blockaded, and its young men gone to other parts 
of the Confederacy in the army. Without anything but 
what was created, every inlet was put in a position to 
offer a protracted and gallant defence. Forts were 
armed, powder and munitions of every description were 
made, and a gallant body of troops organized and 
drilled. Guns w^ere cast and materials of all kinds 
extemporized by incessant labom- and activity. The 
river, at the forts, was twice bridged by obstructions 
which would have resisted anything but the formidable 
rush of the great Mississippi in its swollen T\Tath. 

" My troops, at the call of then' country, rushed to 
Corinth, and the deeds of the Louisiana regiments on 
the 6th and 7th of April, indicated their courage and 
their trainmg. Our founderies were beginning to turn 
out heavy guns of the best quality; and a newly- 
erected arsenal furnished us with various implements of 
war. All tliis has been done since October, besides pre- 
paring sixteen vessels for river defence, eight of which 
are now defending the upper river, and eight have been 
destroyed in the vain attempt to keep back the enemy's 
fleet of war vessels below. Tliis has been done with 
no host of generals and staff-officers of experience to 
assist. Almost alone, with but few exceptions, I have 
worked day and night for more than five months to 
defend this great city. The responsibility of its fall is 
not due to any wantof 'energy or earnestness' on my part. 


In a short time more I should have had guns enough, 
and men enough, to defend the numerous approaches on 
that element on which the enemy is so pre-emineirtly 
powerful ; and I, therefore, beg that you will do me the 
justice to say to the people of New Orleans, that I did 
all that one man could do to preserve them from an 
insolent and powerful foe, 

" When then' fleets passed all our batteries, I T\ath- 
drew my infantry forces beyond the city limits, in order 
to permit the people ol New Orleans to decide whether 
they would subject their wives, their children, and 
property to bombardment in the endeavour to maintain 
their freedom intact ; and retmTied to the city to-day 
to learn their decision, and to offer myself and my 
command to stand by them to the last moment, in case 
they should decide to undergo a bombardment. I 
know that there are many gentlemen here who ^^'ill 
bear me Asdtness that all that is here set forth, and 
much more, has been done to avert this sad disaster. 
An exammation of my letter and order books and 
telegraphic despatches, will show that no stone has 
been left unturned by me to save New Orleans from 
this humiliation ; and I feel well convinced that a few 
short weeks would have rendered the position impreg- 
nable. All I ask is simple justice, and nothing more. 
In conclusion I will add, that terrible as the blow has 
been, I am neither disheai-tened nor in despair. This 
war of mdependence is not yet fought out. Om- 
ancestors struggled on against the massive power of 
Great Britain, when Boston, New York, Philadelphia, 
Charleston, and Savannah were all in possession of the 
enemy, and gained their hberty. 


"It is a moral and physical impossibility that we 
can be conquered. Let us but be true to ourselves and 
our cause — never tiring, never despairiaig — but rising, 
Actaeon-like, with renewed vigour from every fall, and 
we shall yet be rewarded with success. Above all, we 
should not crush do^vn the spirit and the energies of 
those who are using all the faculties, mental and 
physical, that God has given them, by making light of 
their labours, because, with hmited means and under 
adverse circumstances, they have not been successful in 
resisting at all points a great, wealthy, and powerful 
enemy, with all the appliances of modern warfare, both 
military and naval, in great abundance at his control. 
We have never yet seen such dark days as those which 
environed George Washington at Valley Forge; and 
should such be our lot, I trust that the same spirit will 
animate us to work out the same successful results. 
" Respectftdly your obedient servant, 


"Major-General, C.S.A." 

Could such sentiments exist in the heart of a traitor? 
I answer. No ! 

The brigade of foreign residents, under command of 
General Paul Juge, deserve lasting gratitude for the 
efficiency displayed in maintaining peace and order in 
the city, during the confusion and trouble incident to 
the appearance of the United States' fleet in the port. 
And now httle remains to be said. The city was taken 
possession of by General B. F. Butler, and as his troops 
marched into the city, they found how great was the 
mistake that Union sentiments existed in New Orleans, 


and well they know tliat Union feelings could not be 
masked by the darkened visages which met their gaze 
at every step, and the fearful scowls, and muttered 
cm'ses of the few men who gathered around to witness 
their entrance, left them no hope for establisliing, on 
anything lil^e a fu'm basis, Federal government in 

General Butler established himself at the St. Charles 
Hotel, which, on the amval of the Federals, was by the 
Southerners vacated, and the Yankees were thus left 
to occupy it. General Butler, as well as several officers 
of the Federal army, were accompanied by their wives, 
but unfortunately for those ladies they were regarded 
in quite a different light by the citizens of Xew Orleans, 
and thus subjected to the most cruel suspicions; the 
commanding general's own wife was regarded as a 
courtezan, and in a few days after her arrival, was 
called upon by two women of infamous character, who 
represented themselves as the wives of Confederate 
officers. A longer stay, and greater knowledge of the 
Southern women, proved to General Butler and his 
staff, that none save a courtezan, and one of the most 
reckless character, would have dared to countenance or 
recognize them or their wives. They were thus forced 
to seek society amongst their kind ; and the Southern 
man or woman base enough to stretch forth the hand 
of recogTiition to them, was stamped with the brand of 
infamy, and their names remembered for that day in 
which the traitor shall be judged. 

No kind glance, no word of welcome met the eye, 
or fell upon the ear, and the lone sentinel paced the 
streets of the silent and fallen city, Tvdth a vision ever 


before his eyes of a gleaming stiletto, and muffled form, 
for they knew not at what moment they might fall 
victims to the suppressed, but burning hatred of the 
citizens. Tremblingly the pickets marched to their 
duty on the outskirts of the city, as with blanched 
cheeks they each day heard of the guerilla bands and 
their daring deeds. Within the city mihtary rule was 
now established, and soon "The Reign of Terror" was 
maugurated, which has given to future ages even more 
material than its sister period in France. General Butler 
won the title of Robespierre, and many other tender 
soubriquets, which will appear m their proper places. 
Officers and men paraded the streets daily, mvesti- 
gating matters, to them of great importance, and houses 
were searched throughout for Confederate arms, flags, 
tents, clothing, and money. A party for the above 
purpose landed from one of the enemy's ships above 
Carrollton, and proceedmg to the abandoned fortifica- 
tions inspected them, and tore up a small Confederate 
flag which they found flying over the works. Retm-ning 
down the Levee, the officers met a family of ladies and 
children, accompanied by then- coloured servant. The 
Federals, addressing themselves first to the ladies, 
expressed a hope that the presence of the fleet was not 
a cause of fear to them. We will relate, verbatim, the 
conversation that ensued : — 

Mrs. B. : " That sensation. Sir, is unknown to us 

Officer : " Madame, may I ask you if there is any 
Union sentiment here ? " 

Mrs. B. : "None, Sir, that I am aware of; certamly 
none among the ladies." 



Officer : " Then we may take it for granted that 
there is none among either sex, as the ladies generally 
go with the gentlemen in political questions ? " 

Mrs. B. : " I am confident, Sii', yom- inference as to 
the entire absence of any Union sentiments is coiTect. 
As to the ladies following the gentlemen in pohtical 
questions, I beg you to understand that, however it may 
be in your section, the ladies here advocate that only 
which is just and honom-able." 

Officer: (Tm'ning his attention to one of the ser- 
vants) " Well, Sis, can you tell me if all the troops have 
left yet?" 

Nancy being for a moment quiet, the lady said: 
" Nancy, why don't you answer your brother ? " 

Nancy: (With great indignation) "Don't you call 
me Sis again. I don't want no Yankee for a bruder." 

The whole Federal party passed on without another 
word. This was the reception they met with on eveiy 
side, and Mrs. Brown proved herself as spirited in her 
converse with the foe, as she did when spiking the 
guns. Then long live such women, and may the foe, 
when he comes in his insolent pride, ever meet ^dth the 
scorn of all true women. We will now close the veil 
upon this scene, and introduce you, reader, to spectacles 
of interest which will never fade from memor}^, though 
they be lost to vision. 



" Our earth as it rolls through the regions of space, 
Wears always two faces, the dark side and sunny ; 
And poor human life runs the same sort of race, 
Being sad, on one side, — on the other side funny. 

" For our parts, though gravity's good for the soul. 

Such a fancy have we for the side that there's fun on, 
We'd rather, with Sydney, south-west take a ' stroll,' 
Than coach it north-east with his Lordship of Lunnun." 

" And in her air 

There was a something which bespoke command, 
As one who was a lady in the land." 

" But faith, fanatic faith, once wedded fast 
To some dear falsehood, hugs it to the last." 

The fall of New Orleans, tliough a most dreadful blow 
to the Confederacy, in no manner decided the fate 
of the war, and the victories of the brave troops in the 
battles around Richmond gave them renewed hopes for 
the future. The Confederates needed something to 
awaken them from the lethargy into which they had 
fallen, through their long and almost constant success. 
Like a storm this broke upon them after their empyream 
repose, and now those men who had been even cari- 
catured in their own journals in the following spicy 

T 2 


tone, threw off their habits of indolence, and on 
the battle field, it were difiicult indeed to recognise 
in the tanned and resolute soldier a resemblance to 
the portrait below, wliich was indeed life like in every 
feature, when the clarion notes first burst upon the 

The Drill of the Lapstone Rangers. — This body of 
citizen soldiery, composed of the best blood of the 
land, has grown into a regiment, and has so organised 
in advance to meet the requirements of the new law 
which goes into effect on the 15th, that Colonel Sole, 
commanding the regiment, assures us that the regi- 
ment embraces in its ranks none but gentlemen; and 
Colonel Sole being a reliable gentleman himself, we 
repose the greatest confidence in his statement. He 
has presented us vnih. a revised copy of Hardee, de- 
signed for the exclusive government of the Lapstone 
Rangers, which certainly goes to show that the regi- 
mental orders, the drill exercises, and the manual 
generally, were gotten up expressly for the government 
of gentlemen. 

Colonel Sole always publishes the order for battalion 
drill on .the second page of a morning paper — ^headed 
notice — and in the following coui-teous style : — 

*' Gentlemen of the Lapstone Rangers, 

" If in perfect accordance with the economy of your 
digestive code, I have the honom- to invite you to ride 
down town to your respective armom-ies, as soon after 
dinner as you may deem it prudent, to-morrow, to par- 
ticipate in a portion of the exercises incident to battahon 


drill. Provided tlie weather be not threatening or 

" I have the honour, gentlemen, to be, 
" yours, very truly, 

'' Crispin Sole, 
" Colonel Commanding Lapstone Rangers." 

Supposing, of com'se, the invitation harmonises with 
" digestive code," the different companies composing 
the regiment of Lapstone Rangers appear, according to 
card, upon the field used for drill. Colonel Sole, after 
saluting the vast number of ladies who are gathered on 
the field, and replacmg his white handkerchief, turns to 
the regiment, draws his sword, and opens — 

" Gentlemen, — If any gentleman in the battalion has 
in his mouth a cigar that is not quite smoked, I have 
the honour to inform him that the hour has amved when 
he can throw it away with impunity, if he chooses to do 

Upon this courteously delivered piece of military 
information, sundry gentlemen proceed to suck sundiy 
cigar stumps, preparatory to the whiff that will consign 
these stumps to the usual position of " old sojors." 

Whereupon Colonel Sole draws his sword, lifts off 
his hat, throws his eyes to the left, then to the right, 
wreathes his military lips into a bland smile, and says, 
*' Gentlemen of the Battalion — I deshe to state, to 
insinuate, with due sense of the com^teous relations 
existing between the members of this regiment and 
your humble Colonel, that if perfectly agreeable to you, 
you will place yourselves in the attitude of attention." 


The gentlemen thus courteously appealed to, of 
course respond, with the exception of one or two of the 
men who are deeply absorbed in an argument ^^th tlieir 
Captain and 1st Lieutenant upon the most improved 
method of tanning hides without the use of bark. They 
too, however, take their proper position in line, and the 
Colonel, after acknowledging the fact, proceeds — 

" G entlemen, — You will do me the favour to shoulder 
arms — if you please." 

The arms are duly shouldered in gentlemanly style. 
The Colonel now goes on — 

" Gentlemen, — Alexander wept for a second world to 
conquer, Solomon sighed for the \\4ngs of a dove, but 
neither of them, could they have reahsed their desires, 
would have been happier than your Colonel would be if 
you, by the right of companies, would change your 
position to the rear into column. In order to accomplish 
this very important manoeuvre, gentlemen, I will beg 
that each company will face to the right. Now do me 
the kindness to march?" 

The request is complied with to the extreme satis- 
faction of the Colonel and the delight of the ladies. The 
applause of the latter is gracefnJly acknowledged by 
Colonel Sole, who gallops away to the right of the line, 
and then gallops back again. After satisfying himself 
that the Hne is di'essed to suit those in it, he continues — 
" Gentlemen, — It would probably be more to your con- 
venience and ease — and I assm-e you it would meet with 
the entire approbation of yom- Colonel — were you to 
come to an ' order arms.' " 

Of course, the regiment comes to an " order arms." 
Whereiipon Colonel Sole says : — 


" Gentlemen, — Your Colonel, ever mindful of the 
fe,ct that the human frame, after the performance of 
arduous duties, should indulge in reasonable repose, you 
are invited to assume the position usually assumed by 
soldiers when the order is given to 'rest.' It now 
devolves upon Major Strap to see that every gentleman 
in the ranks who is suffeiing from fatigue is supplied 
mtli refreshments." 

A reasonable time having elapsed for rest, the Colonel 
respectfrilly insinuates, in an extremely delicate manner, 
that the gentlemen should resume the attitude of a corps 
iji attention. The Colonel then states ; — 

" Gentlemen, — You would place me under lasting 
obligations if you would kindly consent to shoulder 

The regiment courteously complied. 

*' Gentlemen, — Would you noAV honour your Colonel 
and please the ladies by showing them the perfect regu- 
larity with which you can support arms." 

The regiment kindly honom-ed the Colonel and 
pleased the ladies by executing the order. 

Colonel Sole, highly dehghted, put his white 
handkerchief into his pocket, and relieved himself 
thus : — 

" Gentlemen, — There is one more manoeuvre which 
I desfre executed, provided it meets with yom- approval. 
Gentlemen, — If you are not too much fatigued (I will 
not ask you to shoulder arms), gladden the heart of 
your commanding officer and yield to the request he 
will now make of you. Gentlemen, — I beg that you 
will now form a column upon the company which has 
the deserved honom- of being the first — that is, if the 


front had not been changed — and I hope the gentlemen 
who command the different companies will hire people 
to see that wheeling distance is observed." 

This is a movement which belongs especially to the 
regiment of Lapstone Rangers, and is executed in 
superior style. Whereupon Colonel Sole, in the pride 
of his heart and the full satisfaction of the afternoon's 
performance, addi'esses the regiment : — 

*' Gentlemen, — The country is safe. I have the 
honour to congratulate you, gentlemen, upon the pmic- 
tuality of your attendance, the precision of your move- 
ments, and the mihtary bearing wliich every gentleman 
exhibits. Gentlemen, you will now take the first street 
you come to without the formality of forming into line 
and senduig the commissioned gentlemen to the front 
and centre. Gentlemen, — If you should find it incon- 
venient to take the fii'st street you come to, please take 
any street or streets convenient to you. And you would 
consult your own interests and futiue welfare if you would 
select those thoroughfares in which the mud is less than 
two feet deep. Gentlemen, — Hoping to meet you again 
upon the occasion of our next di'ill, I have the honour 
to wish you a very good evening." 

The Lapstone Rangers, it is almost unnecessaiy to 
state, form the very upper leather of society. Awl the 
chivahy of the parish, not connected with other regi- 
ments, may be found in its ranks ; and should they wax 
■v\Toth, and have to foot it to the borders of the land, 
the bristles will be taken from some of the Yanks sure. 
Colonel Sole assm'es us that the Feds may hammer 
other portions of our reserve coi-ps, but when they come 
to the regiment of Lapstone Rangers, the latter -^411 


welt tliem till tliey are thinned out like slioe thread, 
and are compelled to peg out at last. 

This likeness bears a strong resemblance to those 
who filled the volunteer ranks in New Orleans, and tlieir 
sybarite customs could not be laid aside until the stern 
experience of camp life made them feel that to the 
patriot Lacedemonian fare and the "black broth" of 
Sparta is sufficient luxury. 

The above picture was not overdrawn, and though 
it only referred to the working men of Southern 
cities, who, not like the opulent planter, in whom 
this indolence was by natm^e, became inoculated 
^dth this truly tropical spirit. But this scene was too 
bright to be lasting, and it wanted some shadow to 
relieve the dazzling hues, whose glow and voluptuous 
richness were but the true harbinger of storm and devas- 
tation. We were not sorry thus to see the sinews of 
the South strung to the war-pitch, as much was to be 
dreaded from the national languor which the last blow 
felled by the Federals dissipated for ever. The spirit 
which actuated the South was not that of fanaticism, 
which in its mad orgies kindles the torch of intolerance, 
and in its msane fury tln-eatens destruction to all, save 
those who join in its diabolical rites. The fanaticism of 
the North has plotted the death of the Goddess of 
Liberty, and though she still struggles to shun the fate 
which the world knows awaits her. Fanaticism has pro- 
nounced her sentence, and she must die. 

Then let the South take warning, and give no encou- 
ragement to the stranger — let them extend no welcome, 
and let their hearts close upon this demon, whose kiss is 
poison, whose embrace is deadly, whose triumph would 


banish God from creation, and convert creation into chaos. 
It plotted the massacre of St. Bartholomew, and organised 
the Reign of TeiTor. It set up the Inquisition in Spain, 
and in France worshipped Reason in the form of a 
courtezan, and chose a madman for its priest, a fitting 
representative of its helhsh ceremonies. It was Abo- 
lition fanaticism, which appeared sans toilette, and in its 
most hideous deformity in its last character before the 
world, which eHcited the compHment, '^Nothing civilizes 
them' from the London "Times," and pronounces the 
Northern people "neither amenable to courtesy nor 
misfortune" and now to quote a criticism on this remark, 
I vnR beg, dear reader, your kind attention : — 

" The barbarism of the North, 
Nothing civilizes them." 

It is held by some T\Titers on the philosophy of history, 
that civiHsation is not the result of gradual development, 
but is an essential condition — that it is not an incident 
to progress, but an uiherent principle ; that it cannot 
be superadded where it is not already an indwelling 
quahty, appertaining to the thoughts and sentiments, 
and manifesting itself in the manners and institutions of 
a people. History has proved, as far as history can 
prove anything, the utter incapacity of certam races to 
acquire a genuine and intrinsic civilisation. No amount 
of white-washing can place the Afi-ican on the same 
social platfoi-m ^ath the civilised European. No tempta- 
tions of commerce, of comfort, of security, can localise 
the nomadic Arabs and Tartars. No laws, no treaties, 
no threats, no promises, can overcome the ferine propen- 
sities of the North American aborigine. We have had 


good historical grounds for regarding these races as 
imcivilised and uncivilisable. But what are we to say 
to the bold assertion of the London "Times," that 
the Yankee race belongs to the same category ? Will 
the glorious land of universal Sham consent to see its 
claims to superior civilisation thus contumeliously 
spurned ? AVill the famous authors of hqueoiis nutmegs, 
and the similitudes of hams that are perfectly innocent 
of pork, peaceably bear to have those eminent tokens 
of march of mind and culmination of art msultingly 
overlooked by the leading organ of English opinion? 
We pause breathless for an answer. Meantime let us 
note more particularly the proposition of the London 
" Times." 

That joiu-nal (as may be seen in its article pub- 
lished in another column), while speaking of the 
battle of Manasses — of the vulgar bravado of the 
Lincoln press that preceded it, the rout and disaster 
that attended it ; the monstrous mendacity and brutal 
sentiments of the same press, that followed it— remarks 
that, judged by these and like indications, the Northern 
people " are amenable neither to courtesy nor misfortune. 
Nothing civilises them." Strange, indeed, must such 
language sound to an English pubhc, which had been 
so long schooled in the belief that if there was any 
civihsation in the States lying between the St. Lawrence 
and the Rio Grande, the true and only well assured seat 
of it existed in what was known as the Northern section. 
All the rest— Seward and Sumner, Beecher and Stowe 
Cheeverand Helper had told them, and their press, T\'itli 
small exception, with indolent complacency, had parroted 
the canting accusation — was blighted with the " black 


cm-se of slaveiy." The text of the last and longest of 
Sumner's senatorial phiHppics was " The barbarism of 
slavery." The South, he maintained, was maculate 
with all manner of vice and crime, and barbaric to the 
core by reason of slaveiy, and it was the rightful and 
bounden mission of the North, immaculate, saintly, and 
pre-eminently enhghtened and progressive, to broad- 
cast the seeds of genmne civilisation to the moral 
wilderness of the slaveholding States. Xow, what is 
]\Ir. Sumner to tliink? What are his constituency 
at Boston, that "hub of creation," that "Athens of 
America," to think? ^Miat are the great war party of 
the North to think ? AVhat are the pen-and-ink warriors 
of the Northern war press to think ? ^Miat is the 
whole Abolition and Lincoln capoodle of them to think, 
Avhen told by the principal jom-nalistic representative of 
the English public, whose s^Tupathies they have so 
assiduously courted, and so confidently counted on, that, 
taken upon evidence of their ovni making, upon their 
avowed acts and public professions, they are uncivilised, 
and incapable of civilisation ? The language of the 
London " Times," to wliich we refer, is doubtless to be 
construed, with some allowance for an exaggeration of 
bitter sarcasm. But the words contain a ci*uel sting, 
which no qualification of that kind can remove. It is 
the sting of truth — of truth as inexorable as death, as 
remorseless as the gTave. Allowing for all excess of 
badinage, for all extravagance of ridicule, the general 
accusation against oui' vaunting enemies at the North 
remains, that m then- an'ogation of superior civilisation, 
in their assumption of moral and intellectual supremacy 
over their Southem neighbom's, they were practising a 


stupendous cheat upon the world, and that noAv, when 
war, with its vicissitudes and excitements, reveals them 
in the nakedness of their nature, in all the coarseness 
of their bad propensities, they are found to be " amenable 
neither to com-tesy nor misfortune," that, in fact, 
" nothing civihses them." Even so. The Abohtion 
fanaticism of the North is only another name for bar- 
barism. Slavery is an occasion, not the cause of its 
manifestation. The Union is the symbol of cohesion 
employed by the leaders of barbarous hosts tlinsting 
for rapine and slaughter, not the intelligible object of 
the war which is waged upon the South. If there were 
no cry of slavery, no cry of Union, there would have 
been some other cry, which would have meant the same 
thing. Substantially the same issue would have been 
forced upon us under any disposition of events. It is a 
proverbial impossibility to manufacture a " silk purse 
out of a sow's ear." With the " Tunes," so we exclaim, 
" Nothing civilises them," and not till New Orleans fell 
did these savages prove their claim to ancestry with the 
Aborigines— and fiill scope was now given by their chief 
B. F. B. (which being translated means brute, fiend, 
butcher), whose acts of brutality, military dommation, 
and insult, causing the universal poverty and beggary of 
millions, and the triumph of the vilest individuals in the 
community, and abasement of the honest and mdustrious, 
too-ether with the outlawry of slaves (mth whom on 
his arrival in New Orleans he professed to have no 
sympathy) the destruction in this region of agriculture 
and commerce, and the emigration of some of the 
wealthiest and most thriving citizens. 

But the soldiers of the Confederacy left for other 


fields, where they could meet the foe on equal terms, 
and none remained save those who had families depen- 
dent on them, and were incapable of efficient military 
duty. But those who remained proved themselves as 
patiiotic perhaps as those upon the field, in their noble 
resistance to the Federal authonty. On the arrival of 
the Federals, every one who could conveniently leave 
the city did so at once, and amongst the number Judge 
de Breuil, leaving his sister and Miss de Villerie to follow 
at leisure. 

As the fleet came slowly up the river, passing 
" Rosale Plantation," one of the sentinels on board the 
" Pensicola " remarked, " Is not that a Confederate flag 
which I see floating from the tmTct of yonder man- 

" By heavens, it is ! " exclaimed one and all. 
"And methinks a lady is standing Tsdth her arms 
around the stafi"." 

" Fire a volley at it," remarked the commander, " and 
blow the woman and flag into h — 11 ! " 

A thundering sound was heard, and, when the smoke 
cleared away, the flag which a few moments before had 
streamed out so defiantly was now no longer to be seen, 
and those who looked through the telescope coifld per- 
ceive that much damage was done to the building, and, 
from the seeming confusion amongst the persons on the 
plantation, that it was more than probable the captain's 
order had been obeyed. 

And now tm-n we to Rosale. Miss de Villerie, on 
learning the approach of the fleet, had gone up into a 
turret of the building, and taking with her the Confede- 
rate flag, resolved to die beneath its folds. Standing 


out on the small balcony in front of the tniTet, she 
placed the staff firmly in one corner, and, clasping her 
arms around it, she stood awaiting the penalty of her 
rash coiu'se. Thus, when the shot struck one, it struck 
both ; and when Madame de Breuil and her terrified 
servants sought Miss de Villeiie, it was to find her 
wounded and bleeding beneath the folds of the 
" Southern Flag," whose every fold was saturated 
with the blood of this intrepid girl. 

" Let me die here ! " she murmured, as they sought to 
restore and to remove her. " Oh 1 let me die beneath the 
folds of our own true banner. I ask no greater glory 
than to share a like fate to those who have fallen beneath 

" This is an act of madness, dear Natalie," murmured 
Madame de Breuil, as she washed the blood fi:om her 
wounds, and endeavom-ed to staunch it ere the physician 
would arrive. 

On the an-ival of Dr. S , he pronounced her 

wounds not dangerous, and, administering an opiate, 
left her, with the injmictions to Madame de Breuil that 
all excitmg news should be kept from her, and no one 
should visit her until she was entirely well. 

With a constitution such as hers she was soon able 
to dispense with all services of the disciple of Escu- 
lapius, and her first resolve was to leave the city, or 
rather her home, which was now within the Federal 
lines. Ordering her carriage one morning, she drove, 
unaccompanied, to the St. Charles Hotel, and, sending 
her card to. General B. F. Butler, requested an inter- 
view, as she desired to obtain passports to go into the 
Confederacy. She was shown into the reception-room, 


and soon afterwards the General entered. Bo^Wne: to Miss 
de Yillerie, who rose upon his entrance, he said, 
" Madame, can I serve you ? " 

" Yes, Sir," she answered, " if you are so disposed. 
I wish to obtain a couple of passports to go into the 
Confederacy, and trust you will have the kindness to 
grant them." 

"I am granting no passports at present, but in a 
few days I shall be happy to oblige you, or that is, as 
soon as Vicksburg shall be in our possession, which is 
momentarily expected." 

"Am I to wait. General," she replied, "until Vicks- 
burg falls, for a passport ? " 

" I can gTant none until that event." 

" Then," she responded, " I may as well take a fare- 
well to my hopes of getting one, for I am convinced you 
will not be troubled soon for them, as Vicksburg is 
regarded as an impregnable fortress." 

"I believe, Madame, that Forts Jackson and St. 
Phillip were also so deemed, but they were by our fleet 
regarded as but toy fortifications." 

" Rather formidable toys, I should judge, that kept 
at bay your fleet for four months, and ichen you did make 
the attack, held out seven days against all the engines 
of destruction that your imagination could devise." 

" Truly, this is the case, Madame ; yet you must 
acknowledge your fleet is but a burlesque when com- 
pared to that of the Federal." 

"Most assuredly, Sir, and so much the more credit 
our officers and men deserve for combatting the giant 
of which you boast. Yes, Sir, I admit your superiority 
over us in a naval pointy but to us belongs the victor s 


wreath on land, where physical force j^roves the warrior s 
claim to pj^aise, and where, I beHeve, our sokliers have 
ever proved themselves the most entitled to eulogy." 

" You cannot claim much glory for them in the last 
engagement, and the traitor Lovell at their head was 
the most contemptible of all." 

" Spare General Lovell, and do not term him traitor, 
for that is our name for him, if he desey^ves it of either ; 
but remember him gratefully, for if he be a traitor you are 
indebted to him, and others of the same sort, for yom- 
present victory." 

"We are indebted to none save our own valom-, 
Madame, which has placed us in possession of this city, 
and which will soon open the Mississippi River, which 
has been so long closed from Western commerce, and 
thus place ^^dthin my power the means to assist your 
starving population." 

" I was not aware. General Butler, that our popula- 
tion were in this condition before, and feel assm-ed it 
must have been since your amval, as thus all communi- 
cation has been cut off from whence supplies heretofore 
were sent to New Orleans." 

" No, Madame ; when I arrived here I found them in 
a starving state, and it is not even the poor that have 
sought me for assistance, but I have had your wealthy 
men, slave-owners, to come and plead to me on their 
knees for bread for their families and food for their 

" Permit me, Sfr, then, to say to you that you have 
been most terribly imposed upon, if this be the case, as 
I can assm-e you there is no man, no real Southerner and 
slave-owner in the South, base enough for such an 



action. There may be persons who have represented 
themselves as such, but they icere neither Soutlieimers or 
slave-owners. It were impossible that any one could have 
been in such a state of extreme distress, and in so short 
a time after your entrance, as before you came there 
was an abundance of provisions, and such a thing as a 
mendicant in our streets was unknown. Never, Sir, 
never, was there less pauperism known in the South 
(where it at all times exists less than in any part of the 
world) than since the war commenced, for our State 
Government provided against the wants of the families 
of her soldiers, and even in the country, in the difterent 
parishes, so much is allowed to each family^ say $20 to 
the wife, and §5 to each child, until it amounts to §50, 
and then it ceases. Besides tliis, provision is given 
them by the surrounding planters, and thus, you 
perceive. Sir, our poor are properly cared for. Xo, 
Sir, you may be assured there are none now in the 
city vile enough to take the oath, to save their property 
or obtain provision." 

" Madame, will you be so kind as to name some of 
those you imagine so loyal, and I will send for them 
this moment and prove to you that they will tahe the oath, 
and in your presence ? " 

" Doubtless, Sir, as a man would deliver his purse 
to a highwayman. I could name many to you, Sir, that 
not even such a threat could intimidate, but I have no 
desu'e to compromise my friends." 

" I should imagine that your confidence in the 
spirit of your people was somewhat lessened since their 
inglorious flight, leaATiig only the ladies and childi-en to 
defend the citv." 


" They could not, General, liave left it under better 
protection, women are no mean adversaries, as has been 
proved, more than once, both in the field and in the 
Chamber of Council. Do not presume, however, that 
ice regard the exit of our troops from the city as you 
do. What would you have the handful of men do ? 
Remain and subject the city to a bombardment (which 
was threatened by Farragut) and perhaps perish with 
the women and children, with no means left them to 
defend it?" 

"There was no reason," he answered, "for the 
flight of these men, nor the destruction of property, 
and as for a bombardment it was never threatened." 

"Pardon me. General Butler, if I tell you that I 
am not dull of comprehension, and I do not know 
what other interpretation could have been put upon 
the words of Commander Farragut, when he ordered 
that the women and children should be re-moved 
luitliin forty-eight hours. Or if it be, General, that 
this is not the case, and if you pretend to have 
taken our city by any other means than by yom- fleet, 
which frowned upon us threatening destruction every 
moment, though your soldiers feared to land, I say that no 
2?ersonal valour was displayed, and that if you msh to 
put your soldiers and our own to the test, just signify to 
General Lovell that you will meet him at Camp Moore, 
out of range of your gun-boats, and that a physical 
combat will decide the right of conquest, and you will 
find. Sir, that though you may outnumber him in men 
he will give you as nice a thrashing as was administered 
at Bull Run, and Manasses." 

" Your soldiers certainly know how to fight," he 

C 2 


rejoined, " but pray tell me who are your men of the 
South ? As for the North has she not given to America 
all the inventive genius, and has she not produced the 
ship-builders, and manufacturers, as well as constructed 
your railroads, and dug your canals, in fact been the 
great lever which raised her to her present gigantic 
height amongst the nations of the globe, wliile the 
South, what has she done ? " 

" If you will allow me. Sir, I will tell you who our 
men of the South are first ; secondly, what they have 
done ; and thndly, what they intend doing. To begin. 
History, I presume, will inform you that the South gave 
to you many Presidents and Statesmen, and ruled the 
Cabinet at Washington long enough at least that you 
might have felt who the South was. Secondly, the 
Southern people being mostly proprietors of estates, 
they had no necessity for trying then* inventive genius 
in any manner, but left such icork for theii* more needy 
neighboui's, who were generally well paid for their 
services, as often in exchange for a hogshead of sugar, 
or a bale of cotton, they would manage to smuggle in 
a wooden ham into the hogshead of pork, which was 
sent for the consumption of the Negroes, which even 
they could not be forced nor tempted to believe was 
genuine, as they knew it came from the land of imiver- 
sal sham, 'and harshly as the Southerners treat their 
slaves they would not insist upon then partakmg of 
this fare so kindly sent them from then sympathisers. 
Lastly, the Southerners, aroused from then slmnbers of 
Oriental repose, have sworn to burst their bonds and extermi- 
nate their enemies^ or be exterminated. This, Sfr, is what 
the South has done, and what she intends doing." 


" My dear Madame, what can tlie South do in the 
Hlhputian struggle with the Federal giant ? Tell me, 
of what is yom- army composed ? " 

" A dwarf in earlier days slew the giant, and we 
would consider it no miracle now. WJio are our troops ? 
What are they, did you ask ? I, Sir, will tell you. They 
are the flower of the land, and men that were most of 
them nursed in the lap of luxury, and this is why they 
fight so well, for history tells us that the patricians 
have been better soldiers than the plebians. They do 
not shrink from suffering, and already have given proof 
of their ability as w^arriors, orators, statesmen, |and 
authors. Amongst the first named we place the im- 
mortal Washington, amongst the second, their names 
are too numerous to mention. Can you now deny our 
claims ? " 

" Granting all this, Madame, you cannot deny the 
great superiority of intelligence of the masses of the 
North compared with the South, and, for instance, 
I can point out to you in one company (which he 
named) alone twenty-five graduates of Harvard Col- 

"Twenty-five graduates of Harvard College," she 
scornfully replied, "I can point out to you. General, 
one company of the Parish of West Feliciana, in which 
there is scarce an exception in it, and those who 
compose it are graduates of the first colleges, either in 
the North, South, or of Europe. They are each and 
everyone worth at least some fom- or five hundred 
thousand dollars, and thus you will perceive they were 
not educated, like most of your Northern young men, 
with the view of making their way in the world by their 


talents — therefore I cannot admit a superiority of 
intellect. Probably, had the youth of the North the 
same inducements towards idleness and ignorance, they 
would prove less worthy than our Southerners." 

*' I am well aware," he responded, " of your vast 
wealth, but, ^ladam, when we look at all tliis we must 
consider that it is the poor slave who works for it, and 
that it is his hands that fill your pm'ses and provide 
these luxmies, and that no personal endeavour on your 
part have ever placed one penny in your pockets. As 
for me," he added, " I would prefer to earn my bread by 
the sweat of my brow." 

" General, as we have broached this subject, what, 
presume you, must your soldiers have thought on 
am^dng in New Orleans, to find the negroes pro- 
menading in the square and streets, dressed in broad- 
cloth, and some in silks and satins, carr^-ing gold 
watches in then- pockets, and looking better, and H\Hng 
better, than their poor families at home, whom they had 
left there in poverty to fi^ht forthe negro, and to loosen 
th^ir bonds of slavery. What were your sentiments V 

" Oh, my dear Madame, as for me, I have ceased to 
be astonished at anything ; and I must assure you that 
I am no Abolitionist, have never been one, nor have I any 
sympathy in this cause; I came here to fight for the Union, 
to restore order, and to feed your starving peopler 

" Well, kind sir, I would advise you to begin at 
home in the latter work of charity, for if the poor of the 
North have enough to eat and drink now, it is more than 
they ever had before. They should pray for a continu- 
ance of the war; and the Abolitionists of the North 
should fii'st begin their work of enfranchisement in New 


York and Pliiladelphia, where the free negroes are the 
most God-forsaken wretches on earth, and where the 
chains of filth and poverty bind the millions of black 
and white stronger than any manacles forged from iron. 
Go to the Five Points of New York and glance at the 
miserable hovels on the shore, of the Bay of Brooklyn, 
and tell me then if you can find a negro in the whole 
South who would change his quarters with the poor 
white slave of your cities ? You made use, Sir, of the 
remark, ' I would prefer to earn my bread by the sweat 
of my brow.' This, Sir, may be a pleasant enough theory 
seated, as you are, in a cool apartment of the St. Charles, 
in the most delightful part of the city, and with ices to 
drink every hour, and when inchnation prompts a pro- 
menade, seat yourself in an equipage ; but if you would 
like the practice for a few moments, I would advise you 
to enter a cotton-field and begin your day of labour by 
pulling off your coat and exposing yourself to the sun's 
rays, and then take the cotton-bag in your hand, cull a 
few of the beautiful white blossoms that look so delicate, 
or take the hoe (if earHer m the season) and turn the 
soil up, even lightly, for a few hours, and then give me 
your idea of ^earning your own hreacV Theory^ most 
usually, is pleasant — practice^ seldom so." 

" I must say, notwithstanding all this, Madame, that 
the life of a Southern man reflects little credit upon the 
Creator, and leaves him without aim or object, save the 
pursuit of pleasure." 

" Yet, Sir, they place yearly in the hands of the 
Northerners the profits of the planters' crops, and Nor- 
thern shopkeepers and the landlords of the hotels in your 
various watering-places have generally reaped a golden 


harvest from the pockets of the Southemers, who, as 
soon as spring, arrived — like all geese prepared to be 

"Yes, as you say," he answered, "they spent their 
money recklessly, and, after a grand dash and flomish, 
usually handed over a draft on their merchants, and 
returned to their homes satisfied, I beheve, ^^-ith ha^nng 
made a display." 

Miss de Yillerie was about to reply, but at this point 
a lady made her appearance at the door of the apart- 
ment, and said, addressing the General, " Before you 
go out I wish to see you." 

The General rose, and bowing, said, "Twill attend 
you soon." 

Then the lady withdrew. She was ladylike and 
graceful in appearance, and Miss de Villerie being 
anxious to learn who it could be, remarked, " I was not 
aware there were ladies in the hotel now ; I presumed 
they had ail left the day of the arrival of the fleet." 

" My wife. Madam," he replied ; " and thus you ^dll 
perceive I have come prepared to stay." 

"We are all liable. Sir, to grievous disappointment 
in tliis w^orld, and this may prove your greatest." 

" AYell, when I leave New Orleans I will leave it 
what it was, viz. — the home of the alligator." 

*• Thank you, courteous Sir, for yoiu- compliment ; 
do you pretend to say you found nothing here but 
alHgators? Do I look much like that amphibious 

" Excuse me," he laughingly responded, " I meant in 
its original state ; and when I do leave, I shall leave the 
d 1 to take it (pardon the expression, I pray you," 


he added) ; a prophecy which was fulfilled to the 

" You are pardoned, Sh^, for the hasty expression, 
and be as indulgent, I pray you, with me when I say 
to you that had you been in New Orleans the day on 
which your soldiers landed and marched up the streets, 
you would have presumed his Satanic majesty had 
already arrived with all his imps ; and I assure you. Sir, 
we never wish to see anything bearing a stronger re- 
semblance to him than the Yankees." 

" Well, Madam, I own they might have done Avorse 
than we did ; for instance, we have a right to take the 
feather beds from imder the people even, and it would 
only be considered just according to the rules of war- 

" I assure you you are quite welcome to all the 
feather-beds you find; but fortunately we don't use 
them, spring mattresses are in vogue here ; and now. 
General, I presume that I must leave without a pass, 
as you need not have the slightest hopes of placing 
Vicksburg witliin your lines." 

" We shall see, madam ; and should you feel disposed 
to take the oath and retmn here within two weeks, I 
will provide you with a passport." 

" Bidding you good morning, General, I will state 
that I should not value nor accept a passport purchased 
at such a price," and thus saying she bowed low to the 
commander, who accompanied her to the door. 

Entering her carriage, she drove to the office of the 
provost marshal, and there obtaining passports, for 
which she paid two dollars in silver, she proceeded to 
the City Hall, and had them signed by General G. F. 


Shapley (wlio for his courtesy towards the ladies of 
New Orleans ^^•ill long be remembered), and once more 
seating herself in her equipage, drove to Rosale. 

In a few days, the latter plantation was deserted by 
all the w^liite inmates, and Miss de Villerie had gone to 
figure in other scenes. General Butler soon established 
his head-quarters at the Custom House, and the orders 
for confiscation and arrest began. He took possession 
of the residence of General D. F. Twiggs (the latter 
havhig left immediately on the arrival of the fleet), and 
also seized all the silver and articles of value he could 
find in the house, as well as the jewels of Mrs. Myer 
(the daughter of General Twiggs), but returned the 
latter by request of Dr. N. Mercer. Ascertaining, 
tLrough the domestics, that General Twiggs had left 
his swords in the keeping of the Florence family, as 
also some silver, he sent an order to the family to give 
them up, which they refused to do, asserting that 
General Twiggs had presented those articles to Miss 
Florence, but this was considered as a mere subterfuge, 
and General Butler took them without further ceremony. 

He forbade all display of Confederate badges, 
emblems, or other rebel demonstrations. Yet in the 
face of threats, and with Ship Island and Fort Jackson 
as the penalty, there were those reckless enough to 
sport the colours, and to meet, face to face, the Union 
officers and sokhers without a tremor for the con- 
sequences. Amongst the number famous for such 
conduct was ]\Irs. Pliillips (formerly of Washington) 
and her daughters. They had suffered in Washington 
at the commencement of the war, and Mrs. Philhps at 
that time was arrested on the charge of an iatention to 


illuminate her mansion after the victory of Bull's Run. 
Her treatment then should have taught her a lesson, as 
also that of Mrs. Greenhow and others. The latter's 
ride, where she acted as chief of the fair band of 
female prisoners in the old Capital Prison, though a 
most amusing incident of prison-life, scarce repaid 
her for her suffering during her captivity. But I 
cannot say that I advocate such a course. It hut 
exasperates the enemy, while it benefits the cause in no 
w^ay. The only course to be pursued in such circum- 
stances is one of quiet dignity. I feel that all ladies of 
pi-ide will agree Avith me in saying I would not care to 
sport my flag where it was simply tolerated, and could 
only feel at ease in wearing my colours where they 
floated triumphant. It was the mistaken zeal of some 
well-meaning, but rash and thoughtless persons, that 
created bitter sentiments and unjust acts to spring up 
and originate in the minds of the many, that a proper 
self-respect and guarded manner would have avoided. 
Before the city was invested, all acts of heroism were 
to be admired, but once it liad fallen, the only course 
should have been a silent, cautious, and resolute endea- 
vour to bear the chains in cold disdain, until the 
moment should arrive when they might cast aside their 
shackles and walk forth free. But it would be useless 
to advise the almost h-enzied citizens of New Orleans ; 
and often when the commanding general was driving 
with all the state of ofiice in his equipage, followed by 
twelve armed cavalry, he would see a Confederate fan 
flirted before him, or perhaps catch the glimpse of a 
head with a Confederate rosette, as it hastily withdrew 
from a window on his approach. 


In vain were menaces of vengeance ; the Confederate 
emblems were eveiywliere seen, and sported even by 
tlie French, British, and Spanish officers. The Spanish' 
man-of-war generally was crowded during the evening ; 
and the commander, who was a most splendid performer 
on the piano, generally regaled the assemblies with 
Confederate music duiing the intei'vals of the dance ; 
and the summer evenings passed off* gaily in this man- 
ner, for those who remained in the city. 

Though Lincoln's emancipation proclamation had 
not been published, the negroes arrived in vast numbers 
every day in the city, as they heard their deliverers 
were come, and soon the plantations m the vicinity of 
New Orleans were depopulated, not through any Avill of 
then- own, l)ut by the violence of the Yankee soldiery 
they were forced to leave then- comfortable quarters, 
and take lodgings at the Custom House, where, being 
closely confined and treated to rations from the refuse 
of the soldiers, they became sick, and daily the remains 
of those who died were borne off" in waggons to the 
commons, w^ere a hole was dug in the damp earth, into 
which then- bodies were rudely pitched and left to 
decay. Hundi-eds in this manner died and were buried; 
and when, half-starved and almost mad, they, in their 
moments of recreation, wandered through the streets 
with no kind glance to meet theirs, sadly they sighed 
for their comfortable cabins, and the green bright fields, 
w^here the breath of heaven fanned their cheeks, when 
the day's labour was ended. Gladly would they have 
retmiied, but alas ! the spot once so dear to them was 
deserted, and the masters' or mistresses' kind smile 
would greet them never again. 


Do we blame you, ye misguided beings, for what ye 
icere and are ? No. Our hearts bleed for you, victims 
that you are to the lying hypocrisy that led you from 
all that could render your lives pleasant; and ten 
thousand curses rest upon yoiu* miu-derers, who tore 
you from the arms of repose and happiness, only 
that they might see your bones bleaching upon the 

"Vengeance is mme saith the Lord." Ay! with 
blood shall blood be paid. Not alone were they tempted 
to leave then homes, ay, forced, but they were advised, 
like the Israelites of old, to " spoil the Egyptians," and 
daily were heard of ladies who were left without a gar- 
ment, or one article of dress or jewellery — the most valu- 
able articles were stolen, and the receivers icere the officers 
and soldiers of the United States Army and Navy. All 
that could not be confiscated was pm^loined, and no 
redress could be had for any grievance whatever. 

General Butler at fii'st did not countenance this con- 
duct on the part of the slaves, but General Phelps did, 
and the former, when the proclamation was issued, be- 
came as violent an Abolitionist as the latter, notwith- 
standing his asserting to Miss de Villerie that he 
sympathized in no way with the negroes, and his public 
address to the authorities in Washington, where he ends 
by quoting from Lord Chatham^s celebrated address : — 
"/ will never consent to so vile an act, and if ye ivish 
to adopt this course, you must find some other iiistru- 
ment to carry out your intentions, for I will never he 
used as such." 

Is it not a pity that the beauty of the concluding 
remark should be marred for ever by after deeds, and is 


it not to be regretted that a speech which fills the 
mind with ideas of a lofty and elevated being should, 
when compared in contrast to his other and later ex- 
pressions, leave only the impression that the nobleness 
of feeling was only bon'owed for the occasion, and the 
address but penned in order to make use of a portion of 
the eloquence and elegant sentiment of Chatham's when 
speaking of the employing of Indians against the colo- 

In vain do we attire ourselves in character ; if the 
mask be not raised before the end of the pageant, it 
must fall from the face at its close, and when morning 
dawns we appear in our o"^m garb. Once the mask 
dropped from General Butler's face he did not seek to 
conceal aught further, and we must admire his boldness 
and the entire indifference Tv^th which he regarded 
public opinion. The first men of Xew Orleans and its 
\dcinity were aiTaigned before this absolute monarch, 
and for the most trifling offences were sent to Fort 
Jackson. Mayor Monroe, Dr. Stone, and others of 
celebrity, were imprisoned there, and now the clergy 
trembled for thefr safety, though many of them posi- 
tively refused to pray for the President of the United 
States, and were threatened wdth tortm-e in conse- 

One fact is here worthy of record, and this is, that 
the Reverend Father Mullen, of St. Patrick's Cathedi-al, 
resisted to the last aU threats of the General's, and when 
called before the Commander said, in response to his 
menace of Fort Jackson, '* Sir, I do not fear you m the 
least ; and were you to dare to interfere vrith me, you 
would find your ranks of soldiery quickly thinned, as 


more than two-thirds of yoiir army is composed of 
Irish Catholics, and with them their God and Religion is 
first, and then their country ; so touch me at your jyeril ! " 

General Butler, feeling the force as well as tiTith of 
the remark, made no further tlneat, but insisted on the 
prayer for the Confederacy being dispensed with, to 
which Father Mullen consented, and on the next Sunday 
made the follo^v^ng remarks : — " My Beloved Brethren, 
there are some here to-day who have listened to my 
voice of instruction from infancy to womanhood and 
manliood, and others who have but just entered the 
fold of which I am the shepherd. We have passed 
through various changes of life, and yet we never 
di'eamed the hour would arrive when the invader would 
silence our tongues, or close our ears to the dictates of 
conscience ; but it has come, the invader is at oiu' doors, 
and now we can only pray in silence for that which is 
dearest and nearest. Beloved Brethren, 1 have taught 
you how to pray, and what to pray, and noio do your 
duty I ! I " 

Comment is unnecessary. On another occasion he 
was requested by General Butler to ofSciate at the 
bm'ial of an officer, and, to the inquiry of whether he 
would do so or not, he replied, " Most assm-edly, with a 
great deal of pleasure ; it icill afford me happiness to 
hury the ichole army I " 

Officers attended the various chmx'hes, not from 
motives of piety, but to act as spies upon the ministers. 
The places of worship were for a time deserted almost, 
as the inhabitants refused to bow at the altars of the 
same God with then cruel and heartless persecutors. 
But the Houses of God were not long ore they were 


once again filled with the sad worshippers, who, even in 
their desolate woe, prayed for their enemies, that they 
might become changed in heart, and true followers of 
Hun whose last injunction was, "Love ye one another." 



" She gave the thirsty, water. 

And dressed the bleeding wound, 
And gentle prayer she uttered 
For those who sighed around. 

" She cast a look of anguish 
On dying and on dead, 
Her lap she made the pillow 
For those who groaned and bled. 

" And when the dying soldier 
For one bright gleam did pray, 
He blessed this gentle being. 
As his spirit passed away." 

Once arrived in tlie Confederacy, Miss de Villerie sought 
to aid the cause of her people in contributing towards 
the support of the soldiers, and her first act was at 
Crystal Springs, Copiah County, Mississippi. Madame 
de Breuil and herself, on entering Rebeldom, proposed 
remaining at the first village which would promise any 
degree of comfort, until they should be joined by Judge 
de Breuil, who had gone to Richmond. Learning that 
Crystal Springs was a quiet, beautifully-situated retreat, 
and free from soldiery, they determined to await the 
Judge there, and, accordingly, they engaged rooms at a 
cleanly-looking mansion in view of the railroad, and 



which gloried in the poetic and floral name of " The ^lay 
House." The proprietress of this establishment, a ^Irs. 
]\Iay, was a lady of about sixty years of age, a tlmfty, 
hard-worldng dame of the olden time, and one who had 
constantly "many u'ous in the fire," as keeping boarders 
was not her sole means of subsistence, but together witli 
keeping a loom, and sewing for the soldiers, she seemed 
to coin money. Hers was such a face " as would a home- 
spun dress adorn," and ]\Iiss de Yillerie chd not refuse 
to enter the weaving-room where the old lady invited 
her. After watching for some moments the manner in 
which the rosy, good-looking rustic lass (a niece of the 
proprietress) dashed the shuttle to and fro, she sat 
doAvn at the loom and commenced weaving with even 
more celerity than the rustic maid. The old lady was 
quite charmed at the " city gal's " condescension, and 
vowed she'd make " Elie " (her lubberly bumpkm son, 
whose name was Elijah) set up to her; "for," she 
ended, " arter all, when it kums to the pint, I believe 
the town gals is just as i^ashanal as the country wuns, 
and it all depends upon their fotchen up." 

After having weaved a quarter of a yard, which the 
old lady pronounced a " nashun site evener than 
Jemima's," Miss de Yillerie was desu-ed to walk out and 
see the gyardin (garden), and afterwards the chief 
beauties of each plant, ornamental and useful, were dis- 
cussed ; the old lady pointed out a beautifal hedge of the 
Cayenne pepper, sa^dng, " I alHz liked um, and them's 
purty to look at, and mazen healthy, and I'se tried to 
get a contract from the Govei-nment for fornishin the 
soldiers with bottles of pepper sarss, which would save 
a heap of sickntiss 'mongst 'um, but I couldn't git um to 


do it, and I wan't gwine to make the vinegar and raise 
the pepper for notliin, so if they want sarss they may 
pay for it." 

Next Miss de Yillerie was shown the process of 
smoking beef, which in the language of those who under- 
stand it is termed "jerked." The latter, though delight- 
ful to the taste (to those who have strength to masticate it), 
threatens momentarily to demonstrate the definition of 
its name. Miss de Yillerie was next invited to ride with 
the old lady in a search through the country after home- 
spmi, which she intended purchasing to speculate upon, 
and forthwith they started in a nice little buggy, with 
one horse, which the dame herself drove. 

As they passed through the country, Mrs. May 
explained to our heroine each object of interest, and 
drove to the beautiful and truly crystal spring from which 
the village derives its name. In the midst of a lovely 
pine forest, and at the base of charming hills, it gushes 
forth, and invites the weary traveller to a di'ink from its 
mossy brink. 

Miss de Villerie, getting out of the buggy, drew 
near to the well of nature, and plucking a leaf from a 
small tree which grew near, formed it into a cup, and 
dipping it into the water, regaled herself with a draught 
of pure Adam's ale. After this they re-entered the buggy, 
and drove to each and every cottage for miles around, 
and then returned to the May House, when Miss de 
Villerie recounted her adventures to Madame de Breuil, 
and dwelt upon the extreme poverty of what is termed 
the " piney woods" people, and their extreme filth, and 
almost bnite ignorance, concluding her account of them 
by saying that more intelligence, and more marks of 

X 2 


civilisation might be found amongst the T\nldest and 
most roving tribes of the desert. But Uke all countries 
where great and intelligent men have existed, there 
may also be found their opposites. Ireland, amidst all 
her poverty, has produced some of the greatest lumi- 
naries of the world, and in her firmament has sparkled 
some of the greatest constellations of the British realm. 
Charonea, in Greece, gave to the world one of its great- 
est historians, and Plutarch is an example of where the 
mu'e produced a gem. Mississippi produced many 
brilliant men, and Kentucky a Jeff Davis, ^vith many 
others whose intelHgence more than compensate us for 
the ignorance of her masses. However partial we may 
be to Mississippi, for having given birth to illustrious 
statesmen, we cannot forgive her treatment of Con- 
federate soldiers, nor can we forget that on the retreat 
of the anny from Tupelo they (the soldiers) were 
charged hy the patnotic inliahitants twenty- five cents for a 
canteen of ivater, and ten cents for a glass I Think of this, 
Mississippians, and ye who boast of your deeds of 
patriotism. " By their works ye shall know them," and 
thus do we judge you. Conmig generations shall point 
with the finger of scorn to tliis fact in history, and speak 
in trumpet-tones of the self-sacrificing s]3irit of those 
who ministered to the weary soldiers for flthy lucre. 
In sorrow do we trace the words which record your avari- 
ciousness, but t)mth alone we wiite, and therefore " let the 
galled jade winced Long years after ye are gathered 
home, and when even the httle mounds that mark yom* 
resting place lie level T\dth the earth around it, these 
deeds T^'ill be your only mausoleum, to remind us that ye 
existed, and more huge this memorial shall be of ye 


than tlie pyramids of Egypt ; but ye have erected it 
yourselves, and it is neither of stone, silver, nor gold, 
neither of iron nor brass, but of pinchbeck, emblematic 
of your narrow hearts. Sad is it that it should rain 
" alike on the just and the unjust," and though there 
certainly were more than '^ ten just," Ave could not spare 
like Him, the rest. Miss de Villerie, who in her own 
State had witnessed naught but the most ardent endea- 
vours to add to the happiness and comfort of the soldiers, 
saw with feelmgs of sm-prise and indignation their 
treatment at every place in this State. Famished 
soldiers ordered on a hasty movement to some point? 
and having no time for waiting to cook rations, would 
beg even for a crust of cold bread wherever they stopped, 
and were invariably refused. Becoming desperate at 
times, they would scale walls, leap fences, and break 
doA\Ti gates to steal a few vegetables, such as turnips or 
onions, which they would eat raw. Occasionally a 
soldier more bold than the rest would shoot a chicken, 
or a turkey, and for this offence be severely punished by 
the officer in command, whose well-filled stomach left 
him no room for sympathy with the starving soldiers. 
On all occasions the officers fared well, as wherever they 
went the best was at their disposal, but RANK was treated 
not jMERIT. 

Miss de Villerie had just returned from Jackson, 
where she had been for some months, and was now 
estabhshed again at Crystal Springs. One morning 
towards the close of October Mrs. May, the proprietress, 
who has already been presented to the reader, came 
into Miss de Villerie's room, and, seating herself, re- 
marked, " Dr. R has jist bi7i to see me, and to ax 


me to take into my house a sick soldier, but you knows 
yourself, Miss Villery, I hasn't any room." 

" Then, my dear ^Madame," exclaimed Miss de Yil- 
lerie, "I trust you ^^1 not refuse to take him on this 
account, as Madame de Breuil and myself will consent 
to occupy the same chamber, that you may give place 
to him. I assure you, I would much prefer pelding 
all claims to comfort, than one of those men should be 
deprived who has fallen ill for my sake and for yours." 

" Wall," replied the old lady, whose features were 
seemingly cai^^ed out of stone, " I'll see him, and, if he 
am't too sick, 111 have him fotched over, for he's l}Tng 
now in the depot, and they talk 'bout takin him to the 
hospital at Magnolia," and so saying she left the room, 
and donning her sun-bonnet, left the house. 

In a few moments she retiuned, and said, " I'm not 
g^^ne to take him, for he's most dead anyhow ; and, 
besides, he aint got any money, and I'm too old to have the 
trouble of him, and ther's plenty folks in the neighbom*- 
hood sides me." 

This was quite tme, and so thought Miss de Yillerie ; 
but she rephed, "My good Madame, it should be no 
reason that, because others act unkindly and uncharit- 
ably, we should follow theu' example ; by no means, and 
I would much prefer your taking this man, as his being 
so ill is a greater call upon our charity. I beg you will 
•do this, and I will endeavour to make him as little 
trouble as possible to yom-self and servants, by waiting 
on him myself; and, if money be the object with you, I 
will pay you." 

"No, money hain't the reason," the old dame re- 
sponded " but I don't Hke sick folks in the house." 


" Mrs. May," said our heroine, " did I understand you 
to say that this man is in the depot ? " 

" Yes, and it's orfiil cokl too thar, and it's jist bloin a 
perfect harricane out doors. I'm sorry, but. Miss Yiliery, 
I can't take him." 

Miss de Villerie arose, and, remarking to Madame de 
Breuil that she woukl go and see what she coukl do for 
him, and at the same time she took a couple of letters 
for the mail, as she wished this to serve as an excuse 
for going to the depot, the post-office being at this 
place, and, owing to the absence of most of the gentle- 
men, the ladies now crowded the depot. 

Entering the depot. Miss de Villerie deposited her 
letters in the box, and then, casting a glance around the 
room, where several of the villagers were assembled, she 
perceived the sick man lying on a hard bench, and seem- 
ingly near dying. From his emaciated form, sunken 
cheeks, and hollow eyes, even the careless observer 
would know that he could not live many hours, and that 
the flickering light of life was about being extinguished 
for ever. Seated in the same room were the cold heart- 
less beings who had refused him shelter, and talking, 
laugliing, smoking, and chewing, they sat there, view- 
ing with stolid indiflerence a fellow-creature's suffering 
and last hom-s. 

Miss de Villerie, who was exasperated almost beyond 
bounds at the brutal conduct of these men, turned to- 
wards the most respectable in appearance of the group, 
and asked, in a clear and imperative voice, " Is this the 
man you intend sending to the Magnolia Hospital ? " 

" Yes, Madame," responded the gentleman addressed. 

"What, tills man?" she said; "why he does not 


seem scarcely to have life in him, and how do you 
imagine he will be able to make such a trip ? Is there 
no person in Ciystal Springs that will give him shelter 
until he is able to travel ? To send him now, in his 
weak state, and in such cold weather, will be mm'der. 
May I ask how came he here ? " 

The d}TLQg man turned upon her his langniid eyes, 
and opening them to their fullest extent, as it were, to 
gaze in wonder at this being who dared speak m his 
defence, said, " Lady, they would not have treated me 
so if I had had money ; but," he added, " I did have a 
little, about $160, which my captain keeps for me, but 
now it is too late, it would not do me much good it I 
even had it." 

" Money ! " exclaimed our heroine ; " what do you 
want with money ? SJiould not every mans money he 
the soldiers money^ who have gone forth to defend 
then- homes from the enemy, who spill their heart's 
blood for then country's safety, and expose themselves 
to all kinds of danger for the public defence ? Money, 
indeed, my poor man ; you are entitled to every mans 
money, and none save brutes could refuse you. Pro- 
tecting these people and then' property has brought you 
to this, and while such lazy louts as are here as- 
sembled have been lolling on downy couches, eating and 
di'inking ot the best, you, poor man, were l}^g on the 
cold, damp earth, with youi' musket clasped close, even 
m yom- sleep, to your breast, that you might be ready 
for the foe at any moment; and now," she said, turning 
to those around her, " what must you think of your- 
selves, in a village of plenty, where no troops are 
quartered, that you refuse even to grant this man, this 


soldier^ a roof to shield liim from tlie inclement weather, 
and a bed whereon to die ? To term you savages and 
Hottentots would be to pay you a high compliment. I 
am houseless myself, or I would take you, my poor 
man," she said, addressmg him. " I liave already prof- 
ferred my room, if the person with whom I am boarding 
will take you, and, if there is any one to give you 
shelter, I ^vill pay them." 

" Are you a Mississippian ? " inquired the person first 
addressed by Miss de Villerie. 

" Mississippian!" she almost thundered out, ""Mississi- 
pian I Oh ! no, Sh. I would scorn the name ; and if 
I had been so unfortunate as to have been born here, 
I would, after this example of their patriotistn, and 
generous, high-souled, and charitable conduct, diso^ai 
for ever all knowledge of such a State." 

Miss de Villerie left the room, and soon after return- 
ing to the depot with some brandy and port-wine for 
the invalid, found that the people, brought to a sense of 
their duty by her bold and stern remarks, had lifted 
him on a mattress and taken him to the hotel on the 
opposite side of the rail-road, then placing him in bed, 
in the most comfortable room in the house, they sought 
by their attention to efface the unfavourable impression, 
and to gain a charitable reputation. Alas ! the cloven 
foot had been displayed, and no aiTangement of the 
drapery around the form of the hideous figure could 
disguise or erase the vision of its natural deformity. 
However, Miss de Villerie was delighted to think her 
conduct had been the means of even gaining for one 
human being repose in the last sad moments of his 
pilgrimage here, and proceeding to the hotel, she 


placed brandy, port Avine, and tea in the hands of the 
propiietor of the house, to be used for the patient, and 
then made a search through the village fur some one 
who would sell her a chicken at any price, to make 
soup for the invaHd. She was fortunate enough to 
meet with a German woman who was land enough to 
let her have one for 50 cents (at this time a most 
reasonable price) and paying her for it, had it sent to 
the May House, where she had a soup prepared, and 
took it herself to Stubbs' Hotel, where the sick man 
was quartered. Alas ! it was almost too late for atten- 
tions, and he was too weak to eat the chicken, but 
sipped a few mouthfals of soup fi'om the spoon, which 
Miss de Villerie held to liis hps. 

After remaining with him until late that night. Miss 
de Villerie returned to her hotel, at the same time 
extracting a promise from several men that they would 
remain for the rest of the night, and administer the 
medicine which the physician had ordered for him. 

Returning early the next mommg, Miss de Villerie 
found the medicine on the mantel-piece^ the room deserted^ 
and the poor soldier evidently dying fast. She had 
said and done all she could ; her vocabulary of invectives 
was exiiausted the day previous, so, seating herself by 
the bedside, after she had wet his parched lips with 
brandy and water, she took the soldier's hand in her o^vn, 
and while the tears hung upon her fringed lids, endea- 
vom-ed to discover his name and family, that she might 
apprise them of his death. 

The day previous, he could speak distinctly, but 
now it was with difficulty she could make out what he 
said. At last she learned aU that was necessary, his 


name, place of residence, and his mother's address, and 
also that he was the son of a widow— whose husband 
was an Episcopalian minister in Tennessee. Miss de 
Yillerie stayed with him until dinner hour; when, 
returning with Madame de Breuil (who had offered to 
watch the poor man during the next night), they found 
that his spirit had fled from the coldness and soitow of 
earth to its home in Heaven, where, we trust, that in 
the glory and happiness there he is amply repaid for 
liis suffering here below. 

The tears fell fast over the form of the poor soldier ; 
and Iicill do the town of Crystal Sjjrmgs the justice to saij 
that it did wash the body, and give it a dean shirt, as loell 
as bestow a few feet of earth on the edge of the jniblic road 
(land belonging to the government), and— to their honour be it 
said for ever — they did bury him. 

" Tennesseeans, remember your debt to Mississippians, 
you owe them one days lodging for a soldier, and the price 
of six feet of inddic earth. /, Natalie de Yillerie, am icitness 
to it," said our heroine, as she sadly walked into the 
house from the gallery where she had remained gazing 
at the waggon wliich contained all that was mortal of a 
v^ddow's hope. 

That night. Miss de Villerie seated herself to pen a 
letter to the bereaved mother, and she endeavoured to 
send balm for the wound which she knew the informa- 
tion would inflict, by stating the kind treatment her son 
had received in his last hours ; and though she felt she 
was doing a foul injustice to the human race by slander- 
ing the inhabitants of Crystal Springs so greatly as to 
call them Und, Miss de Villerie did state that her son had 
received every attention in the power of the people ol 


Ciystal Springs. At the same time slie enclosed a lock 
of his hail-, which she caused to be cut off, reservnug 
another in case the first letter should not reach its 
destination ; his canteen was the only souvenir of him 
that she could obtain, and she sent this to the express 
office at Vicksbm-g, to be forwarded to his mother, but 
was told there was no express farther than to Okolona. 

In a few weeks she received a response from the 
mother, a beautiful and grateful epistle, penned by the 
family physician, and in heart-inspired tones it breathed 
of gratitude. 

But now that we have broached this subject, we 
must not forget to give to the public the name of the 
chief actor in this scene. The young man whose 
melancholy end we have just recorded, was on his way 
on board the cars, with his company, to Camp ]\loore. 
The train being very much crowded, and having 
stopped for a few moments at this station, he got out 
to walk about, and when the whistle sounded, and the 
cars started, he endeavoured to get on again, but was 
pushed off by the crowd, and left behind. 

Wandering around the village, he was met by a man 
li\Tng in the neighbourhood, who, though not the 
representative of a Southern planter, was a veiy rich 
person, and owned a number of slaves. He lived m the 
vicinity of the village, and was considered the wealthiest 
person in the neighbourhood. This day he happened 
to be in town, and meeting with the soldier, asked him 
to accompany him home in his buggy, and remain until 
he got well, which invitation the poor fellow gladly 
and thankfully accepted. 

In a few days after his anival, Mr. Robinson (for 


sucli is tlie person's name) went off to some place, most 
probably to Jackson, where he mtendecl remaming 
some days. Mrs. Robmson, finding the man was 
becoming worse instead of better, and considering him 
Yery troublesome, determined to send for the village 
doctor, with the view of obtaining an order for his 
removal to the hospital. She having accomplished this, 
on a cold and blustering day in October, the man was 
told by Mrs. Robinson that she had ordered the buggy, 
and that the driver would take him to the depot, whence 
he could go to the Magnolia Hospital. The poor man 
arose from his bed, the picture of death, and started out 
into the cold air, less cold than the heart that turned him 
forth. Two days after, God released him from his pain, 
and we trust He may forgive the unkindness of those 
into whose hands he fell. 

Had this woman been a person who had never been 
a mother there might possibly be an excuse for such 
conduct, but in one who had herself lost a son a few 
months before on the battle-field, and who was told that 
it was not certain where or how he died, it cannot be over- 
looked. Lost to all feeling must that mother be who 
can gaze upon the sufferings, in any form, of the child 
of another and not feel that perhaps her own may yet 
be in the same condition, and need a friend. Base, 
beyond conception, are those who can view the necessi- 
ties and miseries of their fellow-beings and not seek to 
relieve them. But " Vengeance is mme, saith the Lord, 
I will repay." The soldier was buried on the evening 
of the last day of October, 1862, and the next day Miss 
de Villerie, according to the custom in New Orleans on 
All Saints' Day, gathered a few blossoms and, accom- 


panied by a young lady of the village, strewed them 
over the grave of the humble dead. Seven other 
soldiers were sleeping beneath the brown hillocks, and 
]\Iiss de Villerie was ahke thoughtful of them as she 
strewed the blossoms around. Kneelmg at the head of 
each grave, she breathed a fei*vent prayer to the One 
who alone can give either celestial or terrestial peace, 
and transcendently beautiful was the tableau, as with 
hands clasped, and eyes raised to heaven, she knelt in 
holy prayer. The last rays of the setting sun, as it 
glinted tlu'ough the autumn foliage, fell upon her ; and 
it seemed to enfold her in its last embrace, and to cast a 
halo around her wliich nought save a celestial being 
could wear. She arose from her knees as the last rays 
of the sunlight died in the West, and, as she turned to 
leave the spot, she raised her hand, and niaking the sign 
of the cross in the ah' above the eight sleeping forms, 
thus consecrated then- resting-place, and departed for 

Judge de Breuil arrived at Crystal Springs a few 
weeks after, and Madame de Breuil and Miss de Villerie 
left ivithoiit regret the village which, possessing all the 
natm-al characteristics of beautiful scenery, T\dll be 
always engraven on her memory as the most frightful 
of all spots on earth, from the unpleasant cfrcumstances 

Miss de Villerie, on arriving in the capital, joined at 
once the association for contributing towards the wants 
of the soldiers, and in her di'ess of Confederate grey she 
might be seen eveiy morning at the rooms of the various 
societies, aiding with money and counsel to the utmost 
of her power. Miss de Villerie was charmed with the 


patriotic spirit of the ladies of Riclimond and Vii'ginia 
generally, and, in lier letter to her friends in New 
Orleans, spoke of their conduct in the most glowing 
terms. And well the maidens of Virginia desei-ved her 
admiration, for more faithfully than the vestals of Rome 
did they tend the sacred fire of patriotism, and kept it 
blazing brightly amidst the dim clouds of war. South 
Carohna s women are also worthy of undying praise, 
and many a wearied soldier will long remember the 
bright faces and willing hands of those he met at the 
" Soldiers' Rests " (established by the side of the railroad, 
tended by ladies and then- servants), and the generous 
attention received there. 

The scene presented on the an-ival of the different 
trains at the various stations were interesting to the 
beholders, as, laden with provisions, the ladies flocked 
towards the cars bearing abmidance of fruit and dehca- 
cies, as well as the more substantial articles of diet 
— viz., bread, and meats cooked in every manner, made 
doubly dehcious by being bestowed by the fan and 
lovely women of the South. On every hand they 
admmistered aid to the weaiy soldiers, and in filling 
canteens with water and milk, and hi distributing loaves 
of bread, these ladies would stand for hours seemmgly 
unwearied, smiling and speaking words of encourage- 
ment and good counsel to the rough and stern-looking 
soldiers, who, in their dusty attire, formed a strong 
contrast to the lovely women and gnls by whom 
they were served. Much lighter felt the knapsack of 
the trudging infantry man as he turned fr-om one of 
these "Rests," and stouter grew his heart when he 
felt he was not fighting uncared-for, and that kind 


hearts and gentle hands were ready to nurse him 
should disease lay low his form or render him unfit for 

Willingly, devotedly, worked the women of the 
South for the promotion of the Confederate cause, and 
day and night in untiring labour were their fair hands 
employed in knitting, scudng, and mending for the 
army, and the most expensive articles of dress were 
sacrificed to pro\^de comfortable apparel. Elegant India 
shawls were cut up and made shii^ts of, while silk, satin, 
and meiino dresses were sacrificed in the same manner. 
Carpets were dispensed with in every mansion, and 
when army blankets became scarce, these were formed 
into blankets for the soldiers. Eveiything that could 
be foimd about the homes and in the apartments of the 
rich, were bestowed at once upon the public altar for the 
use of the country as soon as its value was kno^Ti to 
the possessor. Few were the cases in which those who 
could bestow refused, and when such were met 'W'ith, 
and the avaricious being who refused was known, the 
Government, like a sensible mother, said to the base and 
ignoble child, " Your brothers and sisters have divided 
their portion with you, and now I shall force you (since 
fail' means have proven ineifectual) to share with them," 
and accordingly she acted. 

How proud, how gratified, must those persons be 
who generously came forward when the tocsin first 
sounded and placed their all at stake for the countiy ! 
How happy they must feel to think they did not wait, 
like many others, to have it all swept from them, and 
by the foe ; and who, in their ruined state, are now left 
to wander homeless, without the thanks or eulogy those 


icill ever receive wlio spring to the assistance of their 
treasury at the first cry of alarm ! In vain those selfish 
inchviduals looked forward to peace, and in vain they 
counted their rich herds and flocks, hoping that the 
storm of war would pass over their heads, and leave 
them possessed of theh^ treasm-e. " All is vanity," 
saith the preacher, and these beings proved the truth 
of the proverb. Sans remorse^ we have seen the torch 
applied to hundreds — ay, thousands, of cotton-bales 
which were heaped in the gin-houses of these national 
thieves, and with delight we witnessed the ruin of those 
miserable nan-ow-minded specimens of the human race, 
that were ever ready, for avarice' sake, to plant the 
poignard in the heart of patriotism. Yes, I have seen 
these " Gods of their idolatry cast to the earth." 

" And the widows of Ashur were loud in their wail, 
And the idols were broke in the temple of Baal." 

Not less, kind reader, were the widowers ; and when 
the moment shall dawn wherein our country shall have 
properly chastised these worshippers of false gods, let 
us hope that they will view, with different ideas, their 
former misgiiided actions, and in the freedom of their 
country kneel with us in the worship of the true God^ 
and of liberty. 



" What is it that you would impart to me ? 
If it be aught toward the general good, 
Set honor in one eye, and death in the other, 
And I will look on both indifferently : 
For let the gods so speed me, as I love 
The name of honour more than I fear death." 

" Let the galled jade wince." 

" Madam, are you \\T.lling to undertake this business ?" 

said General J , to a lady who j^had just entered his 

tent, escorted there by one of the General's staS 

"Most assuredly, General," she replied! "Do I look 
like one that would fear the consequences, if resolved 
upon an act ?" 

" Then, Madam, I feel I can safely enti-ust you with 
this despatch," he said, as he handed to her a folded 
paper, " and trust to hear of yom- successful entrance 

into L , and your safe exit once youi* mission be 

ended. Please give strict attention. Madam, to direc- 
tions in regard to delivery. On entering L , go at 

once to the House, and once there, atth-e yourself 

in gray, when you vrill enter the drawing-room, and seat 
yourself immediately in front of the door, holding in 
your hand a book, and to appearance be reading atten- 


tively. There will enter a person dressed in citizen's 
clothing, who will at once advance and call you by 
name, and address you in the famiHar style of an old 
acquaintance. He will wear a slouched felt hat, and over 
his left eyebrow you will perceive a deep scar. You 
will deliver to him, without delay, the paper ; and now, 
dear Madam, this accomphshed, I shall hope for the 
pleasure of meeting you again." 

The lady arose, and bowing to the General, was 
escorted to her carriage, and was soon on her way to 

On arriving in L , she drove as directed to the 

House. She soon procured a room, and entering 

made a hasty toilette, and descended to the drawing- 
room. There she sat for hours, and looked and looked 
in vain for the person to whom she was to deliver the 
despatches. She knew not at what moment she would 
be arrested, and probably searched, as she had been sus- 
pected on a former visit to the place as a spy. She at 
last (when day commenced to close, and he had not 
made his appearance) resolved to retire to her chamber, 
feeling fatigued and annoyed. Once in her apartraent, 
she began to think of some means of secreting the 
despatch, as she feared keeping it about her person. In 
her fear no place seemed safe, and after thinking of 
several modes of concealing it, decided on placing it 
under the carpet. She was just in the act of stooping 
down to raise the carpet, when a rap at the door startled 
her, and the blood rushed from her heart in ten-or. She 
unlocked her door, however, and to her amazement she 
received fr-om the waiter the card of a Federal officer. 
Though it was one whom she had some acquaintance 

Y 2 


with, and who had done her several acts of kinchiess m 
his official capacity, she knew not at this moment to 
what cause she should attribute his visit. In her con- 
fusion she knew not what to do with the paper, fearing 
that should she leave it in the room, it might be found 
there (should they have it searched dming her absence) ; 
ha^^ing no time to conceal it wdth any certainty of safety, 
and presummg that at the very moment, probably, she 
would not have it ready to deliver when the person 
would call ; resolving, however, to dare the worst, she 
placedit in her pocket, and proceeded to the drawing-room. 
The cordial manner of the officer soon placed her at 
ease. A few moments passed in agTceable converse, 
when Colonel D , said, 

" With yom' permission, I shall be most happy to 

present to you my fiiends General G d and Major 

X n." 

With a feeling of uneasiness Miss C consented, 

saj'ing "I shall be most happy," when excusing himself, 
he ^\T.thdi'ew, and returned in a few moments with two 
gentlemen, whom he introduced to her. 

She conversed for an hour or more quite affably, and 
then being asked to sing and play, arose, and seated 
herself at the piano, thus placing her back towards the 
door. She struck the chords nervously, and was so 
excited she could scarcely command her voice to sing. 
She had not been long thus, however, when the door 
opened, and turning to see who had entered, she beheld 
the person to whom the despatch was to be delivered. 
Recognizing her at once, he came forward, saying, — 

" I am pleased to see you again, ^liss C ; when 

I left you about three hours since, I went to my aunts, 


and informed tliem of your anival ; they will be down 
to see you in the morning." 

Surprised at his cool manner, she said, " I shall be 
pleased to see your aunt and Cousin Mattie." 

" May I request you to continue your musical enter- 
tainment of yom- friends," he rejomed ; " do not permit 
my entrance to inten'upt yom- performance," and leaning 
on the piano, he said, " By-the-way have you written, 
or rather copied those Avords of ' Lorena,' which you 
promised me this morning ?" 

Taking the hint, she rephed, as she drew forth the 
despatch, and threw it on the piano, "Yes Charles, I 
scribbled them off this morning. I doubt if you can 
read them, but I assure you you may make the most of 
this copy, as I dislike of all things copying." 

Takmg up the paper, he said, mth nonchalance, as 
he placed it in his vest-pocket, " Thanks, many thanks," 
and after waiting some fifteen minutes, said, " I have 
an engagement with a party of gentlemen, and if you 
■will excuse me, will go and keep it, and return in one 
hour hence." 

» Au revoir, then," she answered ; " but remember, if 
later tlian an hour hence, you will not find me m the 
parlour, and I shall ask you to excuse my receiving you 
until to-morrow." 

" I shall return in an hour," and bowing to the gentle- 
men, he left the room. 

Feeling free now that the despatch was out of her 
possession, she soon excused herself on the plea of 
fatigue to the ofiicers, and left the room, after having 
summoned a servant, in the presence of the officers, to 
whom she said, — 


" You will say to a gentleman who will ask for mo 
tliis evening, that I am quite indisposed, and vdW see 
him in the morning." 

Once alone in her apartment, and the paper no longer 
in her possession, she breathed a sigh of relief, and 
sought her couch to seek repose, for the first time since 
she had undertaken the mission. Of com-se, friend 
Charles did not return, and it is more than probable 
these patriots had met for the fii'st and last time on 
this side of the grave. 

Miss C determined she would not leave the city 

with a less important object than she entered, so remained 
several days, until learning that the bridge between the 
Federal and Confederate lines had been destroyed, to 
prevent an attack on the city, which it was rumoured was 

contemplated by General M that night, she resolved 

to cross the lines, and thus give warning to the Con- 

She sought her friend, the Federal oflficer, and 
stated that it was absolutely necessary she should reach 
home in two days, and implored him to obtain her a 

" Are you aware, Miss C , that there is no exit in 

the direction you wish to go, the bridge having been 
destroyed ? " 

** I am aware of that. Colonel D . Only obtain a 

pass for me to leave, I ^dll find the means to cross the 

" Why, my dear lady, nought remains save the 
beams, the flooring has been removed ; and surely you 
would not venture upon the beams without further sup- 


" Obtain the pass, Colonel, and you will see whether 
I will or not." 

^' Then be it as you desire, fair lady," and, leaving 
the apartment, soon returned with the desired pass. 

" Thanks, Colonel, thanks ; I value this pass more 
than my life." 

Miss C left the city in a few hours, led over the 

beams of the bridge by a Federal soldier I By this fearless 

act she saved the destruction of General M and his 

whole force. 

On arriving in the Confederacy, she at once proceeded 

to the head-quarters of General J . It is needless to 

say that he received her kindly, and once again placed 
in her hands despatches. These were of much greater 
importance than the former, and were to be borne several 
hundred miles. They were written upon two small 
slips of paper. One of these slips of paper she rolled 
tightly, and placed in the top of a quill tooth-pick ; the 
other she folded and placed conveniently, that, at a 
moment's warning, she might place it in her mouth. 
She had many miles to travel, and, seating herself in a 
rude conveyance, a carry-all (on the style of an army 
ambulance), she started upon her hazardous expedition. 
Her driver was a negro man, and, with some degree of 
doubt, she had resolved to go with him. They drove 
all the fh-st day through a lonely plain, and at night 
stopped at a plantation. Early on the next morning 
they began their journey, and late in the evening came 

upon the head-quarters of General R , situated on 

the river R ; and some twenty miles beyond this 

pomt it was necessary she should cross the river, and 
tliis would place her within the Federal lines. As she 


stopped in front of the tent (or rather as the conveyance 
stopped) she bade the negro to siunmon a soldier, and 
ask him to request the General to step to the carriage 
(we will thus dignify it), that a lady wished to speak 
T\dth him. A soldier advancing, he and the driver 
entered the General's tent, and in a few moments re- 
appeared wdth the General, who walked at once np to 
the carriage, and, pohtely bowing to Miss C , re- 
marked, " Madame, can I serve you? " 

*' You can, Sir, if you desu'e." 

" In what manner, Madame ? " 

" I wish to cross the river some twenty miles distant 
from here, and to enter the Federal lines. Will you be 
so kind as to furnish me with a pass ? " 

" Most assuredly not, Madame. I would not pennit 
at this moment a colonel of our army to do so. I regret 
it, Madame ; but I camiot comply with yom- request." 

*' You will let me jyass, General," she said, smiling, as, 
stoopmg down, she drew off her shoe, " and in less than 
ten minutest 

"Not if I know myself," he rejoined. 

Kaising the shoe^ she handed it to him, at the 
s^me time saying, " General, does this article look 
imiyerative, commanding, authoritative, or anything in 
that style?" 

He answered her, though his risibles were much 
affected, " Madame, there was a time in my hfe that 
the sight of a slipper might awe me, but I am past that 

" Not yet. General," she said; " you are still under 
dominion of sole leather." 

Pressing the heel of the shoe, the sole flew apart, 


and therein lay a small strip of paper, which, taking out 
of its bed, she handed to the General. 

He glanced at it, and said, " I hav?^ nothing further 
to say, Madame. You shall have a pass." 

In less than ten minutes it was in her possession, and she 
was on her icay. It became quite dark as she reached 
the river, and in a dense swamp, with the rain pouring 
in torrents, she was forced to abandon further travel. 
Imagine the scene, gentle ladies, in your quiet homes. 
Out in a lonely marsh, the rain falling, thunder rolling, 
lightning flashing, the terrified birds screaming in the 
midnight air, with venomous reptiles around you, and a 
burly negro, dark as Erebus, as your sole companion. 
Imagine yourselves thus, and seated back in the corner 
of a dilapidated vehicle, with your hand grasping a 
revolver, and your thumb upon the trigger, not daring 
to close your eyes ; the negro a stranger to you, and 
fearing lest he should prove less gentle or merciful than 
the elements. If you have, dear ladies, imagination to 
picture this to yom-selves, you can form some idea of 
what one of your own sex suffered in her character 
of Confederate emissary. 

The negro ivas true to his trust, and in this act might 
have put to the blush many a free man, with fair face, 
but with a black heart. Here was beauts/, youth, and 
7noney, all within the negro's reach ; yet, like " an honest 
man, the noblest work of God," he laid him down to 
rest, with the warring elements as his lullaby, and 
when morning's roseate stole upon the world once 
more, he arose, and they proceeded on their journey. 
God bless you, noble man ! You are a bright example 
of the " genus homo." Yes, erring, sinful man ! As 


you read this does it not strike home ? Ponder upon it, 
ye who have injured the brightest beings ! Ponder 
upon it, ye who have had charge of the youthful 
maiden, and have destroyed her! Ponder upon it, 
ye who have bhghted homes, and sent the gray-haired 
sire to his grave with a broken heart ! Ponder upon 
it, ye who have ruthlessly torn from her home the 
young and fah', and have then cast her from you to 
sink in the mire of destitution and disgrace ! Yes, go 
think of it, and compare your heart vdih. that of this 
dark son of Afric, and ask yourselves whose crown 
should be the brightest in that home to which we are 
all passmg, slowly but surely, and where He who sees 
all hearts shall judge. There, indeed, will appear dis- 
tinction, not of skin, but soul. Oh! could we but 
remove the silver veil, so dazzling, from the faces of 
some we deem so fair, would not we, indeed, find re- 
vealed the loathsome visage of a Mokenna ? 

Miss C soon arnved at the point from which she 

would be forced to continue her journey alone, as the 
negro could not venture farther. She bade adieu to 
her faithful attendant, and after having purchased a 
mule and a buggy, seated herself in it, and was soon on 
the other side of the river, on what is termed neutral 
gTOund — being T\dthin Federal authority at one time 
and Confederate at other, as well as being infested with 
guerilla bands, making it dangerous for any one to 
venture T\4thin the limits. 

On the side to which Miss C crossed, ran a road, 

in a direct line of a mile and a half, through a dense 
swamp, bordered with oak and c^-press, whose sombre 
forms were rendered still more so by the Spanish moss 


which di'ooped in festoons from the boughs; the under- 
brush was impenetrable, while weeds and coarse marshy 
plants grew in profusion ; the decaying trunks of trees 
formed asylums for the serpents which the traveller 
might observe trailing across the road, or coiling them- 
selves around the huge bodies of giant lords of the 

Miss C shuddered as she entered upon this 

scene, but felt that if it were only these reptiles to fear 
she could brave them undaunted; she grew faint as 
she thought of the human eyes that might be staring 
upon her, whose glance was more deadly than the 
serpents'. She summoned all her courage, and rising in 
her seat, struck the mule with the liickory-rod (in lieu 
of a whip), and plying it well, she almost flew past this 
mile of horrors, and soon entered upon a less dangerous 
part of the country. 

Warm, weary, and soiled with dust and mud, she 

arrived in the suburbs of M , and at the station 

where a train every half-hour conveyed the passengers 
into the city. She was just about congratulating her- 
self upon the success of her journey, when, in front of 

the depot in M , two officers stepped up to the train, 

and just as she was descendmg from the car, one of 
them accosted her, saying, '* Miss C , I presume ? " 

" Yes, Sir." 

" I regret exceedingly, then, that I am under the 
painful orders to arrest you." 

The passengers becoming quite excited at this, an 
old lady ran forward, and placing her arms around Miss 

C , said, "Oh, dear, what have you done, young 

lady ? I trust you have not been guilty of any crime." 


Miss C answered in dignified tones, " Pray do 

not be alarmed, dear madame, I have committed no 
crime, nor have I offended in any manner against the 
ten commandments ; iDermit this gentleman to perfonn 
his duty. I am quite ready," she said, " to accompany 
you. Sir, and may I ask upon what charge I am 
ari'ested ? " 

"I regret to state I am not fully informed, but 
think it is simply on suspicion as a sjyy. We will go to 
the ladies' waiting room of the depot, madame, where I 
will leave you in the charge of a couple of soldiers, until 
such time as I can sunnnon some ladies to search you." 

She bowed, and withdrawing from the crowd they 
were soon in the apartment mentioned. Calling a 
couple of soldiers, he said, " You will guard this lady 
until my return, and do not for a momentr withdraw 
yom- eyes from her ; pardon me, lady, such is their 
duty ; " and taking up her cabasse, he said, " I will 
keep this safe for you, and hope, for your owti sake, 
you may prove innocent of any charge against you." 

Miss C , now left alone ^dtli her guards, pro- 
ceeded to scan their appearance. Their faces were 
ruddy and smihng, and bespoke them honest j)lain 
fellows. She entered into conversation mth them at 
once, and tm-ned the subject upon home and friends. 
She could perceive their eyes fill as they spoke of loved 
ones there, and, kno^Adng she had not a moment's time 
to spare, said, when she felt their hearts were filled 
with tender memories, "Just see that great boy in fr'ont 
of the door imposing on that little urchin — is it not 
shameful?" They turned, as quick as a flash of lightning 
the tooth-pick was in the grate by which they were 


standing ; and wlicn they turned their eyes upon her, 
she Avas quietly poking the fire. 

One despatch still remained, and what to do with it 
she knew not — to destroy both she could not bear the 
thought of it, and after undergoing so many difficulties in 
reaching tliis point. Time was flying, their eyes were up- 
on her, and she could not, dare not, place her hand in her 
pocket, to pull out her pm'se (in which the other despatch 
lay) and open it before thsm. She glanced at eveiy 
object, did every tiling to divert their attention, and at 
last saw an old fruiterer passhig the door. She turned 
to the soldiers, and said, " I am very thirsty, and hungry 
as well, would you not let me have some apples ? You, 
do not object to my purchasing, do you ? " 

" Certainly not, lady." 

" Then call the man ; " at the same time di'awing 
forth her purse and emptying the contents into the 
palm of her hand. 

Miss C paid for the apples, and saying "Help 

yourselves, my good men," returned the money to her 
purse, keeping the despatch in her hand. Peeling an 
apple, she cut a small piece, and placed it with the 
despatch in her mouth ; and, laughing at the time, 
pretended she was quite choked, and coughed violently, 
thus finding an excuse to place her finger in her mouth, 
and arranged the despatch between her cheek and gum. 
She now felt safe ; and it was with an an of indiiference 
she viewed the return of the officer, in a few minutes 
after, and the ladies, with whom he entered. 

The officer left the females to perform the work, and 
withdrew. Miss C stood viewing them contemp- 
tuously, as they undressed her, and searched each 


article of clothing — ripping open hems, letting out 
tucks, and tearing away the linings of her garments. 
Satisfied with this, they next proceeded to take down 
and comb out her hair, apologizing for this last act, Miss 

C not even condescending to acknowledge it. She 

was quite determined they should do then- work alone, 
and stood quite nonchalant as they undressed and re- 
arranged lier toilet. When finished, her national-paid 
femme des chamhres^ left the room mortified, not even 
having claimed the perquisites of the office. 

The officer now entered, and said, " Madam, you are 
quite at liberty, and I will take pleasure in placing my 
caniage at yom- disposal to proceed to the hotel." 

Miss C thanking liim, accepted his polite offer, 

and was soon in her apartment at the hotel. One 
despatch reached its destination, when she returned 
once again into the Confederacy. 

Miss C w^as untuing in her efforts to promote 

the interests of her countr}^, and Louisiana and Tennessee 
are as much indebted to her as Yu'ginia to Miss Belle 
Boyd (the present Mrs. Hardinge). The latter's career, 
though more brilliant and dashing, is not more praise- 
worthy, ^liss Clayton and Miss B were kindred 

spirits. The former was to General T m Louisiana 

what Miss Boyd was to Stonewall Jackson in Yii'ginia. 
Both risked life and liberty for the Southern cause. 
Miss Boyd's patriotism gushed forth like the mountain 
torrent ; Jiliss Clayton's, like a hidden spring in the 
desert — each alike destined to empty in the sea of 



" He is bending his brow o'er some plan 
For the hospital service ; wise, skilful, humane. 
The officer standing beside him is fain 
To refer to the angel-solicitous care 
Of the sisters of charity ; one he declares 
To be known thro' the camp as a seraph of grace, 
He has seen, all have seen her, indeed, in each place 
Where suffering is seen, silent, active — the 


Soeur how do you call her ? 

" Ay, truly of her 
I have heard much ! the General, musing, replied ; 
And we owe her already (unless rumour lies) 
The lives of not few of our bravest. You mean — 

Ay, how do you call her 1 the Soeur Seraphine. 

(Is it not so 1) I rarely forget names once heard, 
Yes, the Soeur Seraphine. Her I meant." 

" On my word 
I have much wish'd to see her, something more than 
The grace of an angel. I mean an acute, human mind, 
Ingenious, constructive, intelligent. Find, 
And, if possible, let her come to me. We shall, 
I think, aid each other." 

Towards one of tlie hospitals in Richmond was borne 
a Htter, upon which a wounded Federal officer was 
lying. No groan escaped him, though his pallid face 
bespoke mtense suffering. His brow, over which his 
dark brown hair swept, was bathed in blood. 


" Tliis way, if you please," said a lady, as tlicy 
entered the door of the hospital. " You may .place 
this gentleman in Soeur Secessia's Ward, all the others 
are thronged, at any rate she has the best accommoda- 
tion for him, and I think he may be put in her own 
room, as she is absent at the lower hospital, where she 
will be " for a week yet." 

They gently bore the litter towards the room, as 
directed, and entering they placed him upon the pure 
white couch.. The lady sent an attendant to summon 
the surgeon, and placed bands and lint convenient for 
his use when he should arrive. The sm-geon soon entered, 
and prepared to examine the wounds. Anxiously the 
lady awaited to learn his opinion, and when he whispered 
softly, " Poor young gentleman, his race is almost rmi ; 
not many hours ere Death shall claim him," she clasj)ed 
her hands, and bowing her head, prayed for his soul's 
rest in that clime where no evil cometh, and her tears 
fell fast for those to whom he should return no more. 

" You Ts-ill please summon Soeiu Secessia to attend 
this patient," the Doctor said ; " she is a fitting mu'se, 
and well prepared to prepare one for such a jom-ney as 
he is soon to enter upon." 

"I am sorry to say she is at the uj)per hospital. Doctor, 
but if you Tsdll call and say to her as much, she will, I 
know, retm'n here at once. She felt that the invahds 
at the other hospital were neglected, and went there to 
remain a week ; but I am certain she will not refuse to 
retm-n here if requested by you to do so." 

"I will speak vrith. her, then," he said, and bowing, 
left the apartment. 

Soem' Secessia was the favourite nurse amongst all 


the invalids of tlie various hospitals which she in turn 
attended. Like a new star, she beamed in the clouded 
firmament of the sick and suffering. She was welcome 
everywhere, and in her fioatmg black serge garb, and 
religieuse cap, she glided through the chamber, tending 
the sick, speaking words of hope and comfort to the 
soiTowful, praying with the despairing, kneeling beside 
the couch of the dying, and placuig wreaths on the 
brow of the dead. The small apartment which was 
allotted to her was now occupied by the woimded 
Federal officer. The couch upon Avhich she sometimes 
rechned when overpowered by fatigue, was simple in 
its style, and covered with snowy dimity, spoke of purity. 
The room was devoid of all luxury, as a hermit's cell. 
One large window descending to the floor, was cur- 
tained with the same material as the couch. Graceful 
wreaths of woodbine and wild yellow jessamine looped 
back the drapeiy from the casement, permittmg balmy 
breezes to float thi'ough the room. A crucifix t^\dned 
with garlands of sweet briar and honeysuckle, was sus- 
pended over the mantelshelf, while two vases filled with 
myi'tle and orange blossoms, completed the ornamental 
part. Three cane-seat chairs and a lavabo, and you 
have a list of the fm-niture. 

The officer lay in this chamber, seemingly imcon- 
scious, nor did he move even when the door softly 
opened, and a form glided to liis bedside. His face was 
covered, and tm-ned from her, but one of his hands lay 
outside. Taking it in her own she felt the pulse, and 
then summoning a domestic, ordered a basin of ice- 
water and lavender. Turning up the cufis of her habit, 
she prepared to bathe his temples, and softly di-ew the 



cover fi'om the face, when the officer, opening liis eyes, 
turned them upon her. She cast her eyes down, as he 
rested his gaze searchingly on her face, and she said, 

" Pardon me. Sir, I should not have disturbed you, 
but I was only going to lave your brow." 

" Can it heV he faintly mm-mm-ed, "or am I but 
dreaming, and yet it is the voice." 

Soeur Secessia raised her eyes, and they rested full 
upon liis face. She grew pale, and wildly crjnng, 
"Clarence, Clarence," she threw herself on her knees 
beside the couch, saying, " At last we have met. Oh, 
God, that it should be thus ordained." 

The wounded officer, with all the energy of an almost 
dying struggle, raised himself, and bending over the 
side of the couch, clasped his arms around the kneeling 
form, as he said, 

" Yes, darling Natalie, we have met, and /to release 
you fi'om yom' promise in a few short hours ; tell me, oh 
tell me, ere I die, that in heart you have been true to 
me, and reveal the reason for this strange apparel." 

While sobs choked the utterance, she answered, 

" Clarence, beloved, when I had strength to sacrifice 
you on the altar of my country, I needed not so great a 
struggle to renounce the world. You were my world. 
Without, all was as a fearful night. I donned this garb 
that none should love me more ; that voice of man 
should never breathe to me of love again. They are 
but worn for the period in which I attend here. I did 
not vow to wear them. Say, tell me, was not this 

She had said this through her tears, and with 


•unnatural composure, but then came such a sudden and 
agonised change over his features, that her calmness 
forsook her, and rising she said, as she kissed his pale 
brow, — 

" I thought not of this, dreamed not of this, even 
in the sombre shadow clinging around the hour of meet- 
ing. Oh, Clarence, Clarence, would to God it were but 
a dream 1" 

He caught her to his heart and impressed a kiss 
on her brow, while the hot tears (which physical pain 
had failed to draw forth) fell upon her burning cheek. 
"Natalie," he said, " I wish to see thee as in the olden 
time. Cast aside this cap, dearest, in this last parting 

She threw off the religieuse hood, and her hair thus 
unconfined fell in sweeping tresses around her, like a 
sombre pall. She knelt beside him, and bowed her head 
upon his throbbing bosom. The excitement caused by 
this scene brought on a hemorrhage, and feeling some- 
thing cold dripping upon her, she glanced up, and found 
his life-blood streaming over her dark hair. She sprang 
to her feet, uttering a cry of despair, to summon assist- 
ance, but he held her firmly, and, as a smile of ineffable 
happiness wreathed his lips, said, *' Let ^us be alone, 
Natalie ; it is meet we should thus part, and may He 
who parts us, hear my prayer, and grant that we shall 
at last meet where there shall be no more griefs, tnals, 
or separations ; and may God for ever guide, guard, 
and bless thee. We were each true unto the cause we 
espoused — true also unto each other. I am happy, 
dearest, though soon to enter another country, dear alike 
imto both. God has granted my orisons, I am passing 

z 2 


from earth as I would, darling, clasped in yoiu' anns, 
with heai-t to heart and hand in hand. Weep not, 
dearest, I shall soon rest calmly, but what shall comfort 
t]iee — what shall fill the void of everlasting aljsence 
when I leave to return no more, and when I shall have 
entered the chambers of death's dreary mansion ?" 

" Say not — say no ! — no ! — no ! Clarence. Clarence, 
say not death ! live for my sake, though not for me ! 
My vow was made to the dead not to wed T\dth thee, as 
thou wert the foe of my country. I made the vow, but 
my heart was still thine ; promise to Hve — add not — 
add not the pang of death to my ah-eady ci-ucified heart 
— it is broken, and is only now cemented (like a ruined 
vase) by ties of duty and of honour — then, Clarence, 
pray with me to Him to give thee life. I have borne 
much, suffered much, and my worn frame only remains 
like a casket fr'om which the jewel has departed." 

" Natalie, for thy sake I will. Cease, pray do not 
sob so." 

"Oh! Clarence, Clarence, thou knowest not all I 
have suffered — the anguish caused by the vow to which 
I was impelled by an imperious conscience, and which I 
must hold sacred, as it was sworn to the dead and 
registered in heaven, by death alone to be absolved." 

" Thou wilt be mine above, darling," he answered ; 
we were not destined for each other here." 

She Idssed his pale brow, and twining her arms around 
him, said, " Yes, tliine indeed above." 

Snence, lilie a shadow, rested for a moment, and then 
folding her to his heart, he murmm-ed, " Farewell, press 
closer to my heart, its last struggle will soon be over. 
Natahe, good-bye — do not weep; it is thus I would 


depart. Stay, do not leave, I wish none near save tliee, 
dearest. Kiss me, love; tliy kisses are laden with 
balm from the flowers of thine own bright land. I feel 
now that the cause of thy country is that of Truth, 
Eight and Justice ; and may the God of battles give 
to thee and thy cause success and victory. Nay, do not 
grieve ; I am passing away tranquilly to the goal of the 
human race. God has granted my prayer, to die beside 
thee — then — do not weep when I am gone — I only ask 
thee to sometimes remember me, and to visit the spot 
where I shall be reposing, and then, love, think of me as 
one whose sphit will ever linger near thee." 

" Clarence, Clarence, do not speak thus — oh ! I could 
have borne exile from you through life, did I know you still 
lived — I could have seen you another's without pain — I 
could have lovedyouhad you not one spark of affection for 
me— I would have sacrificed all to you— could bear all 
but to see you die." She wi'ung her hands wildly, and 
then madly clasped him to her heart with a cry of mtense 
agony, saying implormgly, " Stay with me, Clarence, 
or pray that God may permit us to enter upon this un- 
known shore together. I cannot bear to think of yoiu- 
entering upon the labyrinthian passage to the world of 
shades alone." 

"Natahe, beloved, all is Hght beyond — I see its 
glories beaming even now — I hear the music fi'om the 
world afar stealing upon mine ear ; but the breezes are 
chilling me, dearest, they are cold and damp— the dews 
are already on my brow, I feel them, love — do not, love 
— stay — I shall soon breathe freely, and I would speak 
with thee to the last. Thmk of me, love, at twilight's 
hour ; remember me when autumn's winds are sighing 


and decking my grave with nature's mosaic gems ; 
forget me not by moonlight — pray for me at starhght ; 
by streamlets and fountains let my memory^ dwell with 
thee — in every scene of beauty and repose — yet let it 
not sit with thee as a shadow. I would have thee 
cherish the memory of our love ; but let it not come as 
clouds o'er another's happiness. I grow wear)^ — my 
eyes seem closing — I grow faint — I am going home — 
adieu — beloved Nat " His lips closed with a sera- 
phic smile and the sentence was finished in another 

One heart-rending shriek burst upon the startled 
inmates of the hospital, and the surgeon entered the 
apartment with an officer of high rank. The two stood 
in speechless amazement gazing upon the scene, while 
the room was filling with the fiightened convalescents, 
attendants, and servants. Seated upon the couch, 
pressing in her arms the rigid corpse of her lover, her 
long raven tresses (clotted with liis life-blood), streaming 
around her, her di'ess of black serge stauied with gore, 
and her dark eyes staring upon his marble face. The 
surgeon was first to approach her, and, as he did so, she 
clasped the form of her lover more tightly, sa^dng, 
'• You shall not take him from me, in death at least he's 

The officer now approached, and, Ts^th the sm-geon, 
disengaged her hold, when she fell in their amis fainting. 
The officer regarded her features attentively for some 
moments, and said slowly to himself, as he placed her 
in charge of the female attendants, "I feel it is the 
same, yet how changed. Who can this Soeur Seces- 
sia be? it is plain her habit was but donned for a 


purpose. I almost feel assured I am correct in my 

Soon the story rang through the city, and Soeur 
Secessia was borne to the mansion of Mrs. General L — , 
where she received every attention. The shock, it was 
supposed, was such that she could not speedily recover 
from. TLe Federal officer, Major Clarence Belden, was 
interred with the honour due to his rank, and the small 
chamber, where he breathed his last in the embrace of 
Miss Natalie de Villerie, was closed by order of the 
Commanding General, made sacred to his memory, and 
only permitted to be entered by Soeur Secessia (as she 
was now knoT\m). Nought was removed, the flowers 
withered in their vases, the woodbme and jessamine 
wreaths decayed and scattered their petals and leaves 
upon the floor, the alpine-hued dimity changed to amber- 
tint, and silence hung its mournful pall around ScEUR 
Secessia's Cell, 



" Why should this man 
So mock us with the semblance of our kind ? 
Moor ! Moor ! thou dost too daringly provoke, 
In thy bold cruelty, th' all-judging One, 
Who visits for such things ! Hast thou no sense 
Of thy frail nature ? 'Twill be taught thee yet ; 
And darkly shall the anguish of my soul, 
Darkly and hea\ily, pour itself on thine. 
When thou shalt cry for mercy from the dust. 
And be denied ! " 

Amongst the first plantations tliat were seized were 
those of Mr. MilleTidon, one teimed the Milleudon, and 
the other the Estelle. The atrocities committed on 
these places hy both the Federal soldiery and the 
negroes are beyond description. I ^\dll, however, en- 
deavom- to give an account of some of the scenes which 

It was in the month of October, 'Q2^ that Colonel 
Thomas and Captain Lynes, of Co. I, 98tli Vermont, 
were sent to take possession of the plantations just 
mentioned, belonging to Mr. ^Milleudon. Captain Lynes 
informed Mr. M that his plantations were in posses- 
sion of the United States Government, and that they 

would take off the crop. Mr. M w^ent immediately to 

New Orleans, and, having consulted some of his fiiends, 


Avas advised to call on General Butler, wliicli lie did at 
once, and was told by the General that lie would make 

inquiry in regard to the affair. Mr. M , after 

having left General Butler, called upon the General's 
brother. Colonel Butler, to endeavour to make some 
arrangement for the sale of his crop, but, failing to come 
to satisfactory terms, he entered into a bargain with a 
Mr. Benjamin F. Smith, the latter agreeing to protect 
the plantations and take off the crops. 

Colonel Butler, or rather General Butler, hearing of 
this arrangement, sent a company of coloured soldiers 
to the plantations to take possession. When Mr. Mil- 
leudon returned to his home he found that his negroes 
had been tampered with, and that they were completely 
demoralized. The overseer complained repeatedly of 
the insubordination of the slaves, and of one especially, 
called Freeman. Mr. Milleudon summoned Freeman 
before him, and rebuked him for his impudence to the 
overseer, and threatened him with chastisement, when 
the negro actually attacked his master, and, a scuffle 
ensuing, they both fell to the ground. By some most 

fortunate chance, Mr. M obtained possession of 

his revolver, which, the negro perceiving, relinquished 
his hold and fled. 

• Mr. M then retm^ned to the city, and the 

first thing he heard from his plantation was that the 
negro Freeman had seized an axe, and incited the slaves 
to revolt, and had made an attack on the overseer, who 
was obliged to fly to his house for safety. The negroes 
then smTounded the house, into which they fh^ed several 
shots. The overseer, being armed, retmned their fire 
bravely, until, wounded and exhausted, he sank upon 


the floor. The negroes then determined to set fii-e to 
the builchng, observing wliich, the overseer endeavoured 
to creep out at the back door, and by this means to 
make his escape ; but he was observed, pursued by the 
negroes, overtaken, and hewed to pieces. 

Freeman, having been the ringleader, was arrested, 
with one or two others, and taken to the city for trial, 
and are still in gaol (or were up to February 1, '64) await- 
ing sentence. 

General Butler had arrested, some few weeks after 
his arrival, the man who had torn down the flag from 
the Mint, and he was placed in confinement until the 
month of August, w^hen, after a trial, he was sentenced 
to be hanged. Up to the moment of the verdict being- 
given there were but few cognizant of the name of this 
man, wliich has been traced in blood upon the escutcheon 
of the Confederacy. But as soon as the fate which 
awaited him was known, the name of Mumford was pro- 
nounced and blazoned forth by Northern journals as 
that of a traitor, and by the Southern as that of a 

In vain were petitions of mercy drawn up and signed 
by the most prominent citizens, in vain did Mrs. Butler 
plead upon her knees for his life. The fiat of this stem 
monarch had gone forth, and would not be recalled ; 
Mumford must die, and meet the penalty of his daring. 
Not even when the scafibld was erected did the people 
believe that Butler would dare out this act of worse 
than Haynau atrocity. But they httle knew the man 
until he had proved, by his countless acts of despotism, 
his claim to be classed amongst those whom Shakes- 
peare has pourtrayed so faithfully in the lines : — 


" But man, proud man, 
Drest in a little brief authority ; 
Most ignorant of what he's most assured ; 
His glossy essence— like an angry ape, 
Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven, 
As make the angels weep." 

On a bright and beautiful morning the sun rose for 
the last time to meet the gaze of the condemned 
prisoner, and its glorious rays illumined the cell whose 
portals would only open to usher him into the arms of 
death. Bravely, manfully, heroically, he met his doom! 
Tried and condemned to death, and such a death ! How 
would he have rushed to meet it on the battle-field in 
Freedom's strife, in any form save this most vile and 
most degrading one. To the last moment he was prof- 
ferred Hfe, if he would forswear his allegiance to the 
Confederacy ; but no, he spurned the proffer at such a 
price, saying death had no terrors for hun, and with un- 
blanched cheek, upon the verge of eternity, bade them 
do their duty, and to finish theh work of cruelty and 
infamy. One more act— the rope was drawn, a soul 
was ushered into the presence of its Creator — Butler 
stood before the world an assassin and a murderer — 

while the " dew-fall of a nation's tears " consecrated 

the spot where Mumford, the martyr, fell a victim to 

fanatic hate. 

After large confiscations of property and beggaring 

thousands. General Butler prepared to leave New 

Orleans, having been recalled by his President, Mr. 

Lincoln. Prior to his departure he made the following 

address to his soldiers :. — 


" Head Quarters, Department of the Gulf, 
"New Orleans, Dec. 15, 1862. 
" General Orders, No. 106. 
" Soldiers of the Army of the Gulf! 

"Relieved from further duties in this department, by 
direction of the President, under date of November 9th, 
1862, I take leave of you by this final order, it being 
impossible to visit yom* scattered outposts, covering 
hundreds of miles of the frontier of a larger territory 
than some of the kingdoms of Europe. I greet you, my 
brave comrades, and say Farewell! This word — en- 
deared, as you are, by community of privations, hard- 
ships, dangers, ^^cto^es, successes, military and ciyH — 
is the only sorrowful thought I have. You have 
deserved well of your country. AYithout a mmnnur 
you sustained an encampment on a sand-bar, so deso- 
late that banishment to it, with every care and comfort 
possible, has been the most dreaded punishment in- 
flicted upon yom- bitterest and most insulting enemies. 
You had so few means of transportation that but a 
handful could advance to compel submission by the 
queen city of the rebellion, whilst others waded breast 
deep in the marshes which surround St. Phihp, and 
forced the surrender of a fort deemed impregnable to 
land attack by the most skilful engineers of your 
comitry and her enemy. At your occupation, order, 
law, quiet and peace sprang to this city, filled A^dth the 
bravos of all nations, where, for a score of years, during 
the profoundest peace, human life was scarcely safe at 
noonday. By your discipline you illustrated the best 
traits of the American soldier, and enchained the admi- 
ration of those who came to scoff. Landing ^dth a 


militaiy chest containing but seventy -five dollars from 
the hoards of a rebel government, you have given to 
your country's treasury nearly a half a million of dollars, 
and so supplied yourselves with the needs of your ser- 
vices that your expedition has cost your government 
less by four-fifths than any other. You have fed the 
starvmg poor, the wives and children of your enemies, 
so converting enemies into friends that they have sent 
their representatives to your Congress by a vote greater 
than 3'our entire numbers from districts in which, when 
you entered, you were tauntingly told that there was 
' no one to raise your flag.' By your practical philan- 
thropy you have won the confidence of the ' oppressed 
race ' and the slave. Hailing you as deliverers, they are 
ready to aid you as willing servants, faithful labourers, 
or, using the tactics taught them by our enemies, to 
fight with you in the field. By steady attention to the 
laws of health you have stayed the pestilence, and, 
humble instruments in the hands of God, you have 
demonstrated the necessity that His creatures should 
obey his laws ; and, reaping His blessing in this most 
unhealthy climate, you have preserved your ranks 
fuller than those of any other battalions of the same 
length of service. You have met double numbers of 
the enemy, and defeated him in the open field ; but I 
need not further enlarge upon this topic. You were 
sent here to do that. I commend you to your Com- 
mander. You are worthy of his love. Farewell, my 
comrades ! Again farewell ! 

" Benjamin F. Butler, 

" Major General Commanding." 


To one who had exerted himself so assiduously in 
his vaiious efforts to please the ladies, it was deemed 
but just that they should present him a testimonial of 
their appreciation, and they, I beHeve, endeavoured to 
embrace within their remarks all that tender regard 
which each and all felt for liim ; and it was ^-ith beating 
hearts they drained their goblets to the following toast 
the moment his departure was signalised : — 



We fill this cup to one made up 

Of beastliness alone, 

The caitiff of his dastard crew, 

The seeming paragon 

Who had a coward heart bestowed, 

And brutal instincts given, 

In fiendish mirth then spawned on earth 

To shame the God of heaven. 

His every tone is murder's own, 

Like those unhallowed birds 

Who feed on corpses, and the lie 

Dwells ever in his word. 

His very face a living curse 

To mankind's lofty state, 

Marked with the stain of branded Cain, 

None knew him but to hate. 

Fair woman's fame he makes his game, 

On children wreaks his spite, 

A tyrant 'mid his bayonets, 

He never dared a fight. 

Think you a mother's holy smile 

E'er beamed for him ? Ah ! no ; 

The jackall nursed the whelps accursed 

Humanity's worst foe. 


On every hand in every land 
The scoundrel is despised ; 
In Butler's name the foulest wrongs 
And crimes are all comprised. 
'Twill be the sign of infamy 
Unto time's utmost verge ; 
Ages unborn will tell in scorn 
Of him as mankind's scourge. 

We filled this cup to one made up 

Of beastliness alone, 

The caitiff of his Yankee crew, 

The lauded paragon. 

Farewell ! and if in hell there dwells 

A demon such as thou, 

Then, Satan, yield the sceptre up, 

Thy mission's over now. 

New Orleans, December 20th." 



" Conspiracy ! 
Sham'st thou to show thy dangerous brow by night, 
"When evils are most free ? ! then by day, 
Where wilt thou find a cavern dark enough 
To mask thy monstrous visage ? Seek none. Conspiracy, 
Hide it in smiles and affability." 

We all know how, in the communities in which we Hve, 
that there are many facts bearing upon the habits and 
character of public men, which in no way appear in the 
jounials ; and ui variably there is an under-cmTent of 
action and of interest, winch, if known, would satis- 
factorily explain an inexpHcable pohtical combination, 
which the world at large never knows. But as the 
actors die, and the causes of reseiwe cease to exist, so 
truth is laid bare, and a future generation finds nothing 
concealed. The riddle is thus solved. 

It is almost impossible correctly to analyse the 
various causes, influences, and motives which, have 
sthred up the fearful strife. It is hard, indeed, to fancy 
any one, however earnest, however loyal in his connec- 
tions, and however deep his feehngs, contemplating 
beforehand this fom- years' contest, with its miseiy, its 
bloodshed, its huncbeds of thousands of \^ctims, its 
myi'iads of happy homes devastated, the anguish it has 


caused, the innocence it has polluted. Who could find 
in his heart reasons to justify such a holocaust ? But 
events grow from events, and a small matter is often 
the commencement of great things. 

The fii'st inflammatory signal of civil war was flung 
upon the winds in Kansas, and with every breeze from 
the Nortli it increased, imtil its burning breath has 
consumed all kindly feeling between North and South, 
and trodden out every brotherly sentiment. Who 
cast this brand amidst us? Who sounded the clarion 
note that started the fears, the passions, the furies 
which have their haunt amidst the multitude ? Who 
guided on the ship of state to this fearful pass — this 
strait between Scylla and Charybdis? Who, for all 
this mischief that has accrued to us in fact, and still 
guiltier design, is responsible? Who, but the Black 
Kepublicans? They broke in upon the peace of our 
country, and filled it with bayonets, angry blood, 
desperate broils, confusion, and wrong. The Catalines 
of America wrought this work of turbulence and sedi- 
tion, and with torch-light processions and riotous songs 
are now slowly, but surely, bearing the coi-pse of the 
Union to its interment. 

Yes, these conspirators left no means untried to 
advance their schemes; and a press, venal and un- 
scrupulous, backed them by its pestilential uifluence, 
and in its task of devotion to the cause, paled its almost 
ineffectual fires before the fulminations of brimstone, 
which issued from the pulpits of the Beechers and 
the Brownlows. Ministers of the gospel, with a voca- 
tion only for cant and slander, thundered their anathemas 
against the Southern people ; and fibrous old maids, 

2 A 


secure of self-approbation and trusting to notoriety, as 
a dernier resort^ set up their hue and cry, and went to 
raising subscriptions for the purchase of Bibles, to 
be sent to their barbaric brethren of the South. The 
gaol-birds were loosed even, to fill the ranks ; and 
Billy Wilson and Ellsworth were placed in command 
of men whom, to use the expression of their own 
commanders, it was necessary to place six feet apart, 
when in line of march, to prevent their picking each 
others' pockets. These were the braves sent to sub- 
due the "rebellion." These were the men sent into 
the heai-t of a lovely land to ravage and lay waste all 
before them ; these were the men our unprotected 
women had to face, and these were the dastards that 
applied the torch to the dwellings of our gallant absent 
soldiers, and left our women and children without a 
shelter from the summer's gale or winter's storm. 

Yes, in Alexandria, the citizens, after the town was 
laid in ashes, had to shelter themselves under the boughs 
of the trees ; and a Mrs. Texliada (whose husband had 
been a wealthy man, and a Louisiana State senator, ere 
the war), when heard of last, was seated in a go-cart, 
with her six little children, and with rope reins attached 
to a mule, was driving to General Banks' head-quarters, 
to beg rations for herself and little ones, while the ruins 
of her once happy home was still vi\^d in her memory. 

Such scenes are common to the view of our people ; 
and the ag-itators of the North are exulting, though 
they pretend to be ovei-whelmed with despair and grief. 
Nero-like, they now sit upon then- tower, fiddling over 
the conflagration of their country, and singing paeans of 
triumph over the success of their vile project. 


" Sing hey ! sing ho ! for the royal death, 
That scatters a host with a single breath, 
That opens the prison to spoil the palace. 
And rids honest necks from the hangman's malice ; 
Here's a health to the plague ! let the mighty ones dread. 
The poor never lived 'till the wealthy were dead ; 
A health to the plague ! may she ever as now, 
Loose the rogue from his chain and the nun from her vow, 
To the jailor a sword, to the captive a key, 
Hurrah for earth's curse, 'tis a blessing to me ! " 

Yes, it is now four years since the first sound of 
strife awoke the world from slumber, and startled the 
echoes in our mountains, hills, and valleys. It is now 
four years since the turbulent passions of man broke 
loose his shackles of virtuous restraint, and wooed the 
demon intolerance. It is now four years since the mad 
fanaticism of our Northern brethren cast the firebrand 
of desolation into the midst of our Southern homes, and 
left in the charred ruins their lasting testimonial of 
fiendish hate. Yes, four years of deadly contest has 
passed into the ocean of time, and its billows now roll 
over friend and foe ahke. 

Where are now the misguided beings, on the one 
hand, who rushed to battle for filthy lucre ? Where are 
now the valiant heroes, on the other, who fought for 
country and their firesides ? Echo answers, " Where ? " 
Gone for ever from I'amongst us, and both alike to be 
judged by Him who giveth victory to the just. 
Thousands have fallen, and yet the struggle is no 
nearer closing ; and on the altars of Mars and Bellona 
hecatombs of victims have been offered, while sanguine 
streams are purling through om- forests, whose source is 
the hearts of Northern hirehngs and Southern chivalry. 

2 A 2 


Even in death theii- blood refuses to mingle, and 
that of the Southerners, • like the Gulf Stream, winds 
clearly on, distinct from the darker waves aromid it, 
which flow from spiings of rancom- and jealousy. 

The breach which has been made by crafty politicians, 
whose only aim was (and is) pecuniary interest, cannot 
now be closed by coercive measm^es ; and they care not 
so long as the Goddess of Liberty dispenses her golden 
favom's, or rather now her emerald gifts, for the fickle 
Goddess Fortune, tfred of weighing out her gold and 
silver, has chosen to measure her gifts in a lighter sub- 
stance, and thus she rewards her chosen by several 
yards of tissue paper, which, at a short distance, might 
be taken for the Hibernian flag, if it did not bear the por- 
traits of demons instead of saints. The wily politicians, in 
the present instance displayed thefr diplomacy, as the 
colour was given to the shin-plasters in compliment to 
the sons of the Green Isle whom they expected to rally 
around the Stars and Stripes, as in former days, and 
whom they deemed could feel themselves repaid for loss 
of blood, Hfe, or lunb, by gazuig upon their wages paid 
them in their own colours. The Winifield Scott style 
of compliment was paid the troops, and the " rich Irish 
brogue," and the "sweet Gei-man accent," were made 
the " Faughaballach " to many a battle field of the Union. 
Yes, the poor deluded victims of foreign birth, by the 
cunning of Yankee eloquence and Yankee trickery, were 
marched out and placed foremost in the ranks, that 
should death await ani/, the foreigners should be the first 
to meet it. The places of honour were bestowed upon 
them, not fr'om love, but because they felt by so doing 
they secured thefr own safety. 


Will you not learn wisdom from the past? Will 
you still madly rush on death and suffering, when 
you know the award which awaits yoiu- generous 
conduct? Have you not heard already of Know- 
nothingism — of the many isms, which ere the war 
sprang up in the North, had for their aim the depriv- 
ing of foreigners of any of the rights of citizenship ? 
Are you blind to the treachery of former conduct? 
The Janus-faced people of the North still lure you 
on, and her army proves to-day that you still re- 
main deaf to every entreaty. It is said to be a belief 
in Africa, that people can be destroyed or withered up, 
not by curses but by praises. I feel assured that the 
Northerners have adopted this style for the annihilation 
of all who come within their influence. The South was 
beginning to feel the workings of the charm, when the 
*' fetich " was procured which broke the spell. 



" It is hard to act a part long— for where Truth is not at the 
bottom, Nature will always be endeavouring to return, and will peep 
out and betray herself one time or other." — Tillotsoiu 

I WILL now direct youi' attention to other scenes. You 
A\dll please accompany me in fancy to New Orleans, the 
theatre of those scenes. General Banks was now 
stationed here, and he entered upon his duties wdth 
seemingly a disposition to efface by gentle treatment 
the evil impression left upon the minds of the people 
by the despotic rule of General Butler. General Banks 
bore an air of mildness and suavity towards all who 
approached him, while his promises of protection, assist- 
ance, and influence were lavished on every side. The 
dictatorial style of his predecessor was not adopted by 
liim, and in dri^dng out for an audng, he could scarce be 
recognised from the plainest citizen. But the inhabi- 
tants of New Orleans soon discovered this habit of humi- 
lity was but the sheep's clothing to conceal the wolf, 
and he had not been long in the city ere he might have 
heard, had he listened attentively, the same compliment 
paid him as the t^nrant of Syi'acuse received. Thus 
it runs : — " One day a tyrant of old S}Tacuse overheard 
a woman praying to the gods to prolong liis life. He 
demanded of her A\-hat he had ever done for her, that 
she prayed thus. Frightened into sincerity, she said, 
' You have done nothing for me, but the t^Tant that 
reigned before your predecessor, oppressed the people 


SO that we prayed for his death. Wlien he died, the 
tyrant that succeeded Mm was worse than he had 
been We prayed for his death, and the gods have 
sent you. Taught by the past, I see that each change 
of tyrants increases the common misery. Hell itsell 
may find some even worse than you. So I pray tor 

your life.'" . o ai 

General Banks' principal achievement m the South 
was the capture of Port Hudson, General Grant havmg 
the entire honour of the surrender of Vicksburg. Both 
these places were strongly garrisoned, but poorly 
victualled ; after suffering innumerable! hardships at 
Port Hudson, its commander. General Gardiner, sm-ren- 
dered, and was sent with the famished prisoners to New 
Orleans. There is no eulogistic expression of suftcient 
strength to give an idea of the esteem in wliich General 
Gardiner, the modern Massena, was and is held. On his 
arrival in New Orleans, he was sought by high and low, 
and the Federal ofiBcers were each day galled at the 
attentions which the noble captive received, who, as ho 
promenaded the streets during his hom:s of liberty, clad 
in his sober garb of gray, was surrounded by bevies of 
ladies, each desirous of the honour of his acquamtance, 
as his gallant and self-sacrificmg conduct had won their 
undviag gratitude and admiration. 

General Banks stationed at Port Hudson several 
coloured regiments, under command of General Andrews. 
Port Hudson had been fortified by the Confederates 
after the attack, and though the fortification was but 
hastily constructed, it could have withstood a siege of 
■ any length had it been well suppUed with provisions. 
General Banks, after the laurels won at Port Hudson, 


deemed it best to rest from his labom-s for awhile, and 
enjoy the effulgence of the sun of glory which radiated 
from his past conquests. His was now a life of ease 
and luxury ; driving to the office on a fine morning, after 
a late breakfast, such as the most fastidious disciple of 
Epicmnis would feel content to partake of; residing in 
a confiscated mansion, with the servants and equipage 
of the former owner at his disposal, and treating his 
staff and honoured guests to sumptuous entertainments, 
which the unfortimate Confederates were forced to pay 
for. The next acts of this " most potent, grave, and 
reverend seignior" were his banishment of those who 
refused to take the oath, and his \4ctory over the female 
sex on the occasion of the departure of husbands, 
sous, and brothers for the "Land of Dixie." Banks 
is immortalised in the graphic description given of his 
troops, by the fair poetess Eugenie in her poem of 
*' Le Bataille des mouchoirs," which I place before 


The Greatest Victobt op the Was. 

Fought Friday, February 20th, 1863. 

" Of all the battles, modern or old, 
By poet sung or historian told ; 
Of all the routs that ever were seen 
From the days of Saladin to I\Iarshal Tureme ; 
Or all the victories late— yet won, 
From Waterloo's field to that of Buller Run ; 
All, all must hide their fading light, 
In the radiant glow of the handkerchief figh ; 
And a paean of joy must thrill the land, 
When they hear the deeds of Banks's band. 


'Twas oil the Levee, where the tide 

Of Father Mississippi flows ; 

Our gallant lads their country's pride, 

Won this great victory o'er her foes. 

Four hundred rebels were to leave 

That morning for Secessia's shades. 

When down there came (you'd scarce believe) 

A troop of children, wives and maids, 

To wave farewell, to bid God speed, 

To shed for them the parting tear, 

To waft them kisses as the meed 

Of praise, to soldiers' hearts most dear. 

They came in hundreds— thousands lined 

The streets, the roofs, the shipping too, 

Their ribbons dancing in the wind. 

Their bright eyes flashing love's adieu. 

'Twas then to danger we awoke, 
But nobly faced the unarmed throng, 
And beat them back with hearty stroke, 
Till reinforcements came along. 
We waited long ; our aching sight 
Was strained in eager, anxious gaze — 
At last we saw the bayonets bright 
Flash in the sunlight's welcome rays ; 
The cannon's dull and heavy roll. 
Fell greeting on our gladdened ear — 
Then fired each eye, then glowed each soul, 
For well we knew the strife was near. 

Charge ! rang the cry, and on we dashed 

Upon our female foes. 

As seas, in stormy fury lashed. 

Where'er the tempest blows. 

Like chaff" their parasols went down. 

As on our gallants rushed, 

And many a bonnet, robe and gown. 

Was torn to shreds or crushed. 

Though well we plied the bayonet. 

Still some our efforts braved, 

Defiant both of blow and threat, 

Their handkerchiefs still waved. 


Thick grew the fight, loud rolled the din — 

When " Charge ! " rang out again, 

And then the cannon thundered in, 

And scoured o'er the plain. 

Down 'neath the unpityiug iron heels 

Of horses, children sank. 

While through the crowd the cannon wheels 

Mowed roads on either flank. 

One startled shriek, one hollow groan. 

One headlong rush and then — 

Huzzah ! the field was all our own. 

For ue were Banks's men. 

That night, released from all our toils, 

Our danger past and gone, 

We gladly gathered up the spoils 

Our chivalry had won. 

Five hundred 'kerchiefs we had snatched 

From rebel ladies' hands, 

Ten parasols, two shoes (not matched). 

Some ribbons, belts, and bands, 

And other things that I forgot ; 

But then you'll find them all, — 

As trophies in that hallowed spot — 

The cradle Faneuil Hall ! 

And long on Massachusets' shore. 

Or on green mountain's side. 

Or where Long Islands' breakers roar, 

And by the Hudsons' tide. 

In times to come, when lamps are lit, 

As fires brightly blaze. 

While round the knees of heroes sit 

The young of happier days. 

Who listen to their storied deeds, 

To them sublimely grand, 

Then glory shall award its meed 

Of praise to Banks's band. 

And fame proclaim that they alone 

(In triumph's loudest note) 

May v:ear henceforth for valour shown 

A woman s petticoat! " 


Mrs. Banks, after this great conquest of her lord's, 
felt that she was losing the opportunity of getting into 
first class society, which she felt assured she had only to 
go South to enter. Thus one fine morning she arrived 
in the city, much to the delight of the Federal ladies, 
who had been awaiting her entrance into New Orleans as 
the signal for the season of gaiety, wliich they knew would 
follow. They were not disappointed. After Mrs. Banks 
had received several calls from her Union friends, she 
gave a fete, to which all who had called upon her were 
invited, as luell as those who had not. Rumour says it 
was a most gorgeous affair: the incense or perfume 
which floated through the extensive salons was most 
delightful and agreeable to the sympathisers of the sable 
race, and an odour only patronised by Republicans or 
Abolitionists ; it is distilled m Boston, in the largest 
quantities, and is called " L'eau d'Afrique," or essence of 
Africa. Mrs. Banks was attired in a blue silk dress, 
with an overdress of point lace, with diamonds adorning 
ears, neck, and arms. She exhibited the elegant taste 
of being the best dressed at her own reception, thus intro- 
ducing to the ladies of the South a new code of etiquette. 

Mrs. Banks's next efibrt to become the leader of the 
' ton was in getting up tableaux representations at the 
Opera House, in Bourbon Street. She personated the 
North, while several Federal ladies were surrounding 
the pedestal on which she stood, and kneeling in suppli- 
cation to her, the latter representing the Southern 
States. Think of it women of the South, kneeling to 
the North, and that represented- in the person of a 
Massachusets Factory Girl ! 

By a strange coincidence, on the very day of the 


night in which this farce was enacted, General Banks 
was defeated on Red River, and sent flying piu-sued a 
second time by General Taylor, leaving all his stores 
behind for the Confederates, who have a particular fond- 
ness for General Banks, as he is said and known to be 
the best Quartermaster the Confederacy can boast of ; 
he invariably leaves them an abundance of provisions, 
clothing, arms, and ammunition. General Banks's fickle 
master at Washington was about to send him for this 
last defeat, to join that procession of f dlen Generals 
who have long since passed into the gulf of oblivion, 
but whose shades yet wander sadly on the shores. The 
banner of their country, the faithless "Stars and Stripes," 
now waves over their successors, who in their turn, 
too, must join the ranks of those phantoms of illustrious 
men, who have not died, but only "gone before," to meet 
contempt and shame as the reward of their valour. 
The " Stars and Stripes" is a beautiful standard, and was 
given up with regi'et by many. The poem introduced 
Tvdll display the cause of its being renounced for its 
noble substitute the glorious Stars and Bars. 


" ! there was a time, but 'twas long ago, 

In the days of my childhood's years, 
Ere the North had evoked this cloud of woe 

With its tempests of blood and tears — 
When I loved to look on the stars and stripes, 

On that banner waving so free, 
O'er the hills and vales of a happy land, 

And o'er many a rolling sea. 

" But that day has passed— and the land is changed, 
And that flag's a degraded flag j 


Aye, that banner is nothing now to me 

But a soiled and a worthless rag. 
It is fann'd by the frenzied breath of hate, 

It is borne by cowards and knaves ; 
In my heart I loathe such a flag as that, 

And the cause over which it waves. 

Aye, I loved it once, with a childish pride, 

When I read on the scroll of fame 
Of the victories won beneath its folds, 

As it flashed like an Oriflamme. 
But now I can see it with cold contempt 

As our battle fields have seen, 
Torn, faded, and trampled down in the dust, 

In the hands of the base and mean. 

" Yes, I loved it once, I despise it now, ■ 

'Tis the ensign of fraud and wrong ; i 

And here in the presence of God and man, 

I recant each word of that song ! ; 

Aye, that childish song, when with childhood's trust ^ 

I believed the North to be true, ' 

Nor dreamed it would seek, in its soulless lust, 1 

To defile the land to its rue. 

" I sang of that banner an artless song, 

Such as ignorant childhood sings ; 
'Twas childish, I know, ' but now I'm a man, 

I have put away childish things.' 
And I say to the reckless, heartless crew, 

Who insanely rave at the North, 
That your ' Union ' is dead, its requiem said, 

And what is its 'prestige worth ? • 

Worth ? Scarcely the dust in which it is laid, 

Slain, slain by your murderous hands ! 
And its tomb, enwreathed by the stars and stripes, 

In the field ' Aceldama ' stands. 
I've finished my song — 'tis my manhood's lay, 

Not the chant of the foolish child ; 
The lanner IworsMi^pd in boyhood's day^ 

Is sullied, degraded, defiled P 



" Thy sails, my friend, are to me the clouds of the morning ; thy 
ships the light of heaven, and thou thyself a pillar of fire that beams 
on the world by night.— Ossian, 

Reclinixg on a pile of cushions on the deck of a blockade- 
nmner might be seen a beautiful lady, apparelled in 
deep mourning. The bark was steadily advancing 
through the dense fog, and anxiously she watched 
through her ivory lorgnette the course of the vessel as 

it ghded out of the harboui' of M and pm'sued its 

perilous way tlu'ough the vapour and invisible guns of 
the enemy's ships. The few passengers calmly and 
almost breathlessly awaited the moment when they 
should arrive in the open sea, and thus have space to 
spread their canvas and to dare the foe. Xo fear was 
exhibited in the countenance of either passengers or 
crew, but a determination to meet the foe man to man, 
hand to hand, should they encounter them. 

On flew the fairy craft, like a frightened bu'd o'er the 
waves. Fust poising on a mountain billow, then sinking, 
seemingly, the next minute, to rise to the sm-face. 
Several hom-s passed thus in suspense, and then safely 
the bark was afloat on the deep. One long, loud, cheer 
for Jefi". Davis and the Southern Confederacy, and then 
the "Bonny Blue Flag" was sung in stimng tones. 


The passengers and crew, when this was ended, sought 
amusement to while away the time. 

The morning of the sixth day had dawned upon the 
voyagers, and they were just entering the salon from 
their respective state rooms when they were startled by 
a voice crying out, " The Alabama ! the Alabama !" In 
a moment all were on deck, and straining their eyes for 
a glimpse of the fast approaching noted privateer. Just 
in front, and grimly frowning upon the little bark, 
loomed the dreadful " demon of the deep." Guns pro- 
truded from the port-holes, and the stern-looking crew 
seemed armed to the teeth. 

All was excitement on board the blockade-runner, 
and everyone was anxious to catch a view of Commander 
Semmes as he stood upon the bow of the vessel. 

The lady whom I mentioned as di'essed in mourning, 
said to the Captain, as the vessel drew near the Alabama, 
" Sir, may I ask if we are to have the pleasure of meet- 
ing Captain Semmes en personne^ or does he condescend 
to board us ?" 

" I tliink it is not his custom, lady, to leave his own 
vessel, though we cannot answer for his movements." 

" Oh, I should so like to meet him," she said, " and 
I may never have such another opportunity ; would he 
think it unladylike if I should go over in the small boat? 
Oh ! if I could but grasp his hand, and say to him how 
his valorous conduct is appreciated, and how the 
Southern people long for the moment wherein they shall 
bear him in triumph through their cities. Pray, Captain, 
permit me to enter the boat ; I would dare death to feel 
that I had but clasped his hand !" 

" Certainly, lady," the old weather-beaten Captain 


replied ; "I ^^^11 await you here mitil you get your 

She disappeared, and in a moment retm*ned, wlien 
she was placed in the dancing boat, and was soon beside 
the "Alabama." Commander Semmes was not a little 
sm-prised to see this lady mounting the side of the 
vessel, and stood politely awaiting her. The moment 
she placed her feet upon the deck she advanced frankly 
towards the Captam, sajdng — 

" Fame, Sir, has already presented you to me, and I 
will take the hberty of introducing to you (in the person 
of myself) Miss Louise Laval, who has overstepped, 
perhaps, the boundaiy of propriety in her desire to see 
and hear Captain Semmes." 

" Thanks," replied the " pirate " Captain, as he 
clasped both her hands within his own, wliile the 
blushes tinged liis bronzed face; "thanks, dear lady, I 
am scarce able to reply to so complimentary a speech. 
I will say, however, that I am gratified for the kind ex- 
pressions you have honoured me in using, and would 
fin-ther state, you need have no fear as to the propiiety 
of the act, as you are amongst gentlemen, and those, I 
feel, who appreciate your conduct, and who, if necessary, 
would be prepared to chastise any who might impugn 
yom- motives." 

" Most gallant Captain ! accept my most profound 
acknowledgments. I have only met the reception I 
anticipated at the hands of yom'self and brave com- 
panions, but come. Captain, I wish you to show me over 
yom- vessel, and to point out each gun yom'self — 
would that I could assist in sweeping from ofi* the 
ocean the fleet of our gTim foe. Yours, Captain, is an 


enviable position." Captain Semmes smiled, and, accom- 
panied by several officers, he showed her over the 

She examined the works minutely, and said, as she 
turned to go on deck, " Oh ! how glorious and trans- 
cendent must be the feeling when after a combat with 
the enemy, when victory has crowned your arms, you 
exclaim, as you fui-1 yom- sails contentedly, 'Alabama' 
{Here ice rest)." 

They had reached the side of the ship, and Miss Laval 
raised her hands to her neck, and, unclasping a neck- 
lace of exquisite pearls, said as she took the Captain's 
hand within her own, " Permit me. Captain Semmes, in 
the name of all my sex, to place upon your brow this 
little offering, suggestive of the crown of more unfading 
gems wdth which your brow is decked in the image of 
yourself, which every loyal man and woman of the 
South wear enshrined within their hearts." 

Captain Semmes bowed ; she placed it over his brow ; 
he then, smiling, took it off, and, kissing it, said, " I 
have met the enemy many times. Miss Laval, and met 
them to defeat them, but I have never had, I confess, so 
siu-prising, and yet so embarrassing, an adventure on 
land or sea as the present. I accept your gift in your 
own name and that of the lovely sex which, in yourself, 
is so well represented, trusting that the purity of my 
course, devoid of self interest, will prove me worthy of 
this offering." 

" Farewell, Captain, we may never meet again. Had 
I never met you I could not be a less ardent admirer 
than this brief personal acquaintance has made me. 
Farewell, Captain, once again; such men as Davis, 

2 B 


Semmes, Lee, Jackson, and Beatiregard need not tlie 
* painted flomisli ' of mine or anyone's ' praise.' " 

He handed her into the boat, and the "Ahxbama" 
and blockade-i-unner were soon parted on hfe's wide 
sea, perhaps never to meet again ; but wc will follow 
our little bark, for it bears within its bosom much that 
is precious. 

Miss Laval promenaded the deck late on the evening 
of the morning of her intei-view with Captain Semmes, 
and when the stars peeped forth she was still wrapped in 
her shawl and Xubia, gazing upon the sea and sky, and 
soliloquising thus — " I am a wanderer and alone ; what 
should I care for if not for my comitry ? I gaze upon the 
past, and down its solemn aisles I see the forms of loved 
ones draped in habiliments of woe, and gloom shrouds 
their once happy homes. I am lost in immeasurable 
darkness, the torch of patriotism alone lights my com'se 

or cheers the solitary Heavens !" she exclaimed, as 

a cannot-shot bm'st across the bows of the vessel. 

Jn a moment the startled passengers were on deck, 
and, though the Captain knew he must surrender, he 
steadily kept on his course through a perfect river of 
fii'e ; on flew the pui'sued and pm'suer, and with intense 
excitement gazed Miss Laval; at last one appalling 
burst boomed across the waters, and when the smoke 
cleared away the blockade-runner was seen in a dis- 
mantled and sinking state, ^vith the crew and passengers 
seemingly collected, awaiting their doom. Not a word 
was spoken ; not a cry for mercy arose upon the ah', not 
a voice to cry " Save or we perish." 

Miss Laval drew forth a small Confederate flag, which 
had been concealed beneath the folds of her atth-e, and, 


raising it on liigli, said, " Beneath this emblem none need 
fear death !" 

The waters gathered around the Httle barque, the 
pm-suing ship was soon beside them, and, though the 
pm-suers sprang on board, they could not rescue all that 
determined band. The boats were, ready, and vainly 
the foe sought to persuade them to board their vessel ; 
they coolly stood amid the rush of waters, with defiance 
gleaming in their eyes and scorn upon their hps. 

*' My dear lady, place yourself under my protection," 
said a Federal officer, as he approached Miss Laval ; 
" You have not a moment to lose." 

" Away !" she answered ; " I scorn the succour 
afforded by an enemy, I will die beside my friends." 

'• Madam, pardon me, I shall not permit you to thus 
perish." Seizing her gently around the waist, he bore 
her per force to the side of the vessel and lowered her 
into the arms of the men, who awaited to receive 
any who might seek the boats. 

He returned to seek out others, and was with his 
companions near perishing with the resolute crew of the 
blockade runner. The few females were saved, but the 
men preferred death to languishing in Federal dungeons. 
Down like a flash almost sank the Confederate steamer, 
while the few whom the mercy of the enemy saved were 
borne to the victorious vessel. 

Miss La,val bore with her the banneret, and closely she 
pressed it to her heart, as she left the wi-ecked vessel 
and its inmates in their watery couch. 

" Sir," she said, " I cannot thank you for my life ; 
for I have suffered death in seemg my friends en- 

2 B 2 


He bowed, and politely ushered her into the cabin, 
where she was most comfortably provided for. 

The Captain soon entered, and addressing the group 
of ladies who stood weeping and TVTinging their hands, 
said, " Dear ladies, permit me to say how sincerely I 
regi'et the fortune of war which has placed both 
yourselves and me in so painful a position. I shall, 
however, do all I can to mitigate your troubles, and 
will send you to your various homes at the earliest 
convenience, or land you at any port you may vdsh. to 

Miss Laval being the only one who could command 
her voice, said, 

" If you will but send us to Havi-e, you will be acting 
in accordance with the desire of one and all." 

" You shall, ladies, be sent upon the first vessel 
bound for Ha\a-e, and in the meantime I will exert 
myself, as well as all my officers, to make you comfort- 

He kept his word. The ladies were placed upon a 
vessel, and not many days elapsed, ere the following 
note was received by a Confederate Commissioner : — 

" Paris, Rue Chaussee d'Antin. 
Sir, — I send by the bearer of this note a package ; it 
contains a black Insh poplin dress. You will doubtless 
deem tliis a strange gift, yet if you will rip the seams 
you will discover that the cord is valuable, and only 
manufactured in ' Richmond on the James,' and used for 
tying up Government documents. The buttons are large, 
and if uncovered will ' a tale unfold.' Should you find 
it serve you, retain it as a model, but if you should 


design any improvement on the style, I will take pleasure 
in bearing a specimen of your model for Gabrielles to 
Eichmond, wliicli I may safely have patented. 
" Hoping for an early response, 

" I am, respectfully, 
(Signed) " LouiSE Laval." 

It is needless to state the Commissioner's surprise, 
when on taking out the cord it proved to be despatches 
on diplomatised paper, and rolled as cord and covered 
as such. The buttons each bore one word, and when 
placed all together, formed quite a long despatch. ^ In 
wonder the Commissioner gazed upon this dress— at 
the wit Avhich could have conceived this plan of 
artifice. Miss Laval had worn this dress, changing 
neither night or day during the voyage. She feigned 
her desire to perish, and had the Federal officer known 
that in his arms was held a contraband parcel, he would 
doubtless have left it on board the wreck. 

In a few days Miss Laval was again atthed in the 
black Irish pophn gabrielle, and on her way to Rich- 
mond, where I will introduce you to her in an interview 
with the noble President, Jefferson Da\as. 

The room in which Miss Lavall sat awaiting the 
President, was furnished with Cretan simpUcity. No 
glare of sunHght illumined gilding or fresco, but papers, 
books, maps, and designs were scattered over the plam 
tables, "etageres," &c., which filled the room. Miss 
Laval was gazing mtently on a portrait, when a step fell 
upon her ear. She turned, and met the kindly beaming 
but worn face of the President, who said, as he wannly 
grasped her hand, 


"Welcome! thrice welcome to these halls once again; 
their echoes, Miss Laval, can never be awakened by 
truer voice than thine." 

" Thanks" she answered, smiling ; " feeling the sin- 
cerity, and being conscious myself of the truth of your 
speech, I will not accuse you of gallantry. Yes, I am 
true to my country. I feel there can be no doubt of this, 
T\dth my weak ability true as yourself The mind, the 
power, the vast erudition of the President is greater, 
but his energy is not superior to Miss LavaPs. I have 
returned after a successful mission to Europe, and now 
I stand ready and willing to serve my country or its 
ruler, should either choose to honour me again. Would, 
Sir, that I had eloquence sufficient to utter the just 
eulogies which everyw^here in Europe I have heard 
lavished upon my coimtry and its wise and renowned 
President. Would that I could have borne these 
foreign, priceless gems of rich and rare value in a proper 
casket to present you ; but they come to you not the 
less pm-e in a Confederate case of rude workmanship, 
but honest and firm setting. The sleepless nights, the 
long, long weary hours by day that you have spent in 
planning, reasoning, counselling, are each numbered in 
golden sheen upon the record of Fame." 

" Lady, I am gratified for your generous appreciation, 
and feel that I am indebted to many fi.'om your report of 
my character abroad. I serve my countiy and her people, 
however, with no desire or expectation of reward, yet I 
must say it is refreshing to feel that oui' motives are 
understood, and that such men as Lee and Jackson have, 
as w^arriors and men, entitled themselves to rank amongst 
those whom Fisher Ames would call great, when he 


says, " The most substantial glory of a country is in its 
virtuous great men ; its prosperity will depend on its 
docility to learn from their example ; that nation is fated 
to ignominy and servitude for which such men have 
lived in vain. Power may be seized by a nation that is 
yet barbarous, and wealth may be enjoyed by one that 
it finds or renders sordid. The one is the gift and sport 
of accident, and the other is the gift and sport of power. 
Both are mutable, and have passed away without leav- 
ing behind them any other memorial than ruins that 
oftend taste, and traditions that baffle conjecture." Good 
and noble actions, lady, strike an everlasting root, and 
leave perennial blossoms on the grave. Man should not 
consider self; our men have been regardless of theu' 
lives, their fortunes, their all, in the great endeavour to 
promote the interest of their country. I have much to 
be thankful for. Miss Laval, for if success has thus far 
crowned my efforts, I owe much of it to Messrs. 
Benjamin Stephens, Yancey, and such like, on the one 
hand ; while in the field, Lee, Beauregard, Jackson, 
Hardee, Taylor, Stewart, and others too numerous for 
mention, have made the sword finish all the pen or tongue 
was incapable of executing." 

"Had we, Sir, a less sage President," Miss Laval 
replied, " I fear we would, ere this, have had a disgrace- 
ful compromise, which I feel assured will never be 
listened to by you." 

" Not for a moment, lady, trust me. We have sacri- 
ficed too many of our best and bravest ; we have been 
called to witness the devastation of om' homes ; we have 
felt the sting of their vile pens where they have pre- 
sumed to caricature our ragged and worn troops. These 


are people who would turn to ridicule such men as 
Marion and his suffering host, and would point the 
finger of sconi at a George Washington, if mounted 
upon a ''Rosinante." But let them laugh, so much the 
more credit to us, and shame to them, if we can still say, 
in the face of want of every kind, and starvation, 
* Come on ; we defy you !' " 

" I am glad to hear you speak thus ; I knew I was 
not deceived in my ideas of your intentions, and may 
God grant thee and thy countrymen heart and nei-ve to 
bide the issue. Honoured representative of my country, 
thou art faithful and firm." 

They clasped hands and parted, ^liss Laval to enter 
again upon her path of duty, the President to return to 
the affau's of the nation, where I shall drop the cm'tain 
upon him, not again to be drawn aside until gentle 
Peace shall part it, and display our noble President 
in the jewelled niche of Glory, wearing his well-merited 
wreath of lam-el, and receiving the homage of a 
grateful people for his exalted virtues and pubHc ser- 



The heait-r ending scenes wliicli have taken place in the 
Valley of the Shenandoah by command of General 
Sherman, have so far outshone in diabolical intent all 
other actions of earlier, date, and so greatly out- 
Butler'd Butler, that my brain can scarcely conceive 
the reality of them, and it is with feelings of hoiTor I 
even place them before the world, through the medium 
of such letters and articles as this chapter will embrace. 
If Butler was outlawed, Sherman should be doubly so. , 
Butler confiscated, and even may have placed the pro- 
ceeds in his own purse, but he never adopted the 
wholesale style of individual destruction as did Sher- 
man. The following letter is one of the many worthy 
of record, which was penned by "A Daughter of a 
Revolutionary Hero " to General Hunter, U.S.A. 

(From the Richmond Examiner.) 

*' Shepherdstown, Va., July 20. 
" General Hunter, 

" Yesterday your underling, Captain Martindale, of 
the First New York Veteran Cavalry, executed your 
infamous order, and burned my house. You have had 
the satisfaction, ere this, of receiving from him the 
infonnation that your orders were fulfilled to the letter, 


the dwelling and every outbuilding, seven in number, 
■\\dtli tlieii' contents, being burned. I, therefore, a help- 
less woman, whom you have cruelly wronged, address 
you, a Major-General of the United States Army, and 
demand why this was done ? 

" What was my offence ? 

"My husband was absent, an exile. He has never 
been a politician, or in any way engaged in the struggle 
now going on — his age preventing it. This fact, David 
Strother, your chief of staff, could have told you. The 
house was built by my father, a revolutionary^ soldier, 
who served the whole seven years for your indepen- 
dence. There was I born ; there the sacred dead 
repose ; it was my house and my home ; and there has 
youi' niece, who hved among us dm*ing this hori'id war, 
up to the present moment, met ^dth eveiy kindness and 
hos23itality at my hands. 

"Was it for tliis that you turned me, my young 
daughter, and little son out upon the world Avithout a 
shelter ? or was it because my husband is the gTandson 
of the revolutionary patriot, and of the noblest of 
Christian warriors, the greatest of generals, Robert E. 
Lee? Heaven's blessings be upon his head for ever! 
You and yom- government have failed to conquer, 
subdue, or match him ; and disappointed rage and 
malice find vent upon the helpless and inoffensive. 

" Hyena-like, you have torn my heart to pieces, for all 
hallowed memories clustered around that homestead; and, 
demon-like, you have done it without even the pretext 
of revenge — for I never saw or harmed you. Your ofiice 
is not to lead, like a brave man and soldier, your men 
to fight in the ranks of war, but yom- work has been to 



separate yourself from danger, and, with your incendiary 
band, steal unawares upon helpless women and children, 
to insult and destroy. Two fair homes did you, yester- 
day, ruthlessly lay in ashes, giving not a moment's 
w^arning to the startled inmates of your mcked pm-- 
pose ; turning mothers and children out of doors ; your 
very name execrated by yom- own men, for the cruel 
work you gave them to do. 

" In the case of Mr. A. R. Boteler, both father and 
mother were far away. Any heart but that of Captain 
Martindale (and yours) would have been touched by 
that httle ckcle, comprismg a -^^ddowed daughter, just 
risen from her bed of illness, her three little fatherless 
babies, the eldest not five years old, and her heroic 
sister. I repeat that any man w^ould have been touched 
at that sight but Captain Martindale; one might as 
well hope to find mercy and feeling in the heart of a 
wolf, bent on its prey of young lambs, as to search for 
such qualities in his bosom. You have chosen well 
yom- man for such deeds ; doubtless you will promote 

" A colonel of the Federal army has stated that you 
deprived forty of your officers of their commands because 
they refused to carry out your mahgnant mischief. All 
honom- to their names for this, at least. They are men ; 
they have human hearts, and blush for such a com- 

" I ask, who that does not wish infamy and disgrace 
attached to him for ever, would serve under you? 
Your name will stand on history's page as the hunter of 
weak women and innocent children; the hunter to 
destroy defenceless villages and refined and beautiful 


homes ; to torture afresh the agonized hearts of suiFer- 
mg widows; the hunter of Africa's poor sons and 
daughters, to lure them on to i-uin and death of soul 
and body ; the hunter with the relentless heart of a 
vnid beast, the face of a fiend, and the form of a man. 
Ob, earth ! behold the monster. 

" Can I say ' God forgive you ? ' No prayer can be 
offered for you. Were it possible for human lips to 
raise yom- name heavenward, angels would tlu'ust the 
foul thing back again, and demons claim their own. 
The curses of thousands, the scorn of the manly and 
upiight, and the hatred of the true and honourable will 
follow you and yours through all time, and brand your 
name — infamy ! infamy 1 ! 

" Again I demand why you have burned my house ? 
Answer, as you must answer before the Searcher of all 
hearts, why have you added this cruel wicked deed to 
yom- many crimes ? " 

We glance at another paper, and, behold, another 
bitter maddening wail is upon our ear, fi'om one who, 
in all her anguish, pom's forth her soul's agony in flow- 
mg poesy. Read it ; your blood will chill as the wild 
rhythm gushes from that lacerated heart. 

[From the " Chattanooga Rebel"] 

" Let hypocrite " or " puritan " 
Dethrone fair Pleasure if they can. 
What if our friends are dying now ? 
And every drop of kindred blood 
Has ceased its living course to flow, 

And joined the dark and clotted flood ? 
StiU fill it up, the sparkling cup, and let us sup, 



A draught to-night, of nectar bright, with crimson light 
Whateer may chance, to-night we dance, 'neath pleasure's glance. 

" For what to us is stififened clay 
If pleasure holds her joyous sway, 
Or what are tears or mourner's groan, 
If still to sweet and mirthful sound 
Our laughing queen sits on her throne 
To see the dancers circle round ] 
Still fill it up, the sparkling cup, &c. 

" Our sisters danced in olden time 
Like us to music's merry chime ; 
Of gay ' glee girls ' we've often read, 
Who waited till the death of day. 
Then to the battlefield they sped, 
And danced until the morning gray. 
Then fill it up, the sparkling cup, &c. 

" Like them we'll dance, this is the time. 
When dying groans make sweetest chime, 
Then fill the cup with crimson gore. 

Fresh from the flooded battle-ground. 
I never drank a draught before 
That half so sweet as hlood I found. 
Vhen fill it up, the sparkling cup, &c. 

" I hear a glad and joyous sound. 

Come deep and far from under ground. 
Far our loud call of mirth's been heard, 
By every fiend in hell's expanse 
• And all its darkest depths are stirred, 
To give us music for the dance. 
Jhen fill it up, the sparkling cup, &c. 

" Come want, and death, and rapine come ! 
As partners come to youth and bloom. 
Grim Want, you closed my mother's eyes, 

And Death, you laid my brother low. 
Rapine, my home in ashes lies. 
But still come on, the dance is slow. 
Then fill it up, the sparkling cup, (fee. 


" Weve left the hall and battlefield, 
"We've danced till every head has reeled, 
But still we circle round and round, 

Nor stop, for ' 'tis a time to dance.' 
But see that chasm in the ground ! 
And see the hluelights upward glance ! 
I hear a sound, deep under ground, a fiendish sound : 
The demons come, yes, every one, our dance begun, 
Will iiever end, and hell we'll spend in bow and bend, 
Our cup's mixed up, a fiery cup with blood mixed up." 

Then again we glance at a journal ; it is not our 
own ; but read what it says also. How calmly this 
fiend T\Tites, how smoothly his pen glides over bloody 
battle-fields, devastation, iTiin, and death ! — 

" Secessia FE:NnxixA. 

" The faces that look doT\Ti from the windows of 
this valley have, in many instances, a strange and fasci- 
nating beauty. Between them and one who glances up 
that glamor, so fatal to Phyrsis, rises to cheat the senses, 
and inform the heart with the most persuasive lie. 
There is no tenderness in these faces. Then- charm is 
far difierent from that known to Xorthem corn-tiers ; it 
is a steel-cold languor, to witness which is chilhng to 
the soul. One who commences speech "udth these 
damsels finds himself wondering what sort of beings 
have arisen in this soil, in place of the children of Eve. 
Here are smiles, and courtesy, and refinement ; but, oh ! 
how very like a cymbal is the hollow something in the 
sound of all. These women have suffered. "War is 
nearer their hearths than to ours. It is a sterner thing 
by far. Their hearts are in it, buried, some of them, iu 
graves that thicken every day upon the soil. 


" Along tins valley, in wliicli, from the Potomac to 
Staunton, there is no law nor safety, the scom'ge of 
battle is a monthly episode. All the horror, all the 
sacrifice of war, knocks at the door of every mansion on 
the way. Property and life are things of chance. 

"People make few plans for the future. To-morrow 
may shatter them for ever. ^larriage is little thought 
of; all marriageable men are under arms, and marriage- 
able women let them go with little murmur. There is 
no use in murmuring. War is the one great passion to 
which both sexes are alike devoted, and for which both 
are ready to make any sacrifice. These women seem to 
have tacitly accepted the fact that, until the war is 
over, courtship is a mockery that had better not be 
thought of 

" The maiden who says good-bye to her lover makes 
up her mind for the worst that can befall. Death is the 
rival of love ; and death, nine times out of ten, is con- 
queror. Is it strange, then, that we who seek for ten- 
derness in the hearts of these women must seek deep ? 
Wrong as is the cause, it has a more wide-spread, and a 
bitterer, deeper devotion among the masses in this 
region than has oui's. One of the most beautiful of any 
women in the valley, who visited the North before the 
war, and was a belle at several watering-places during 
the summer months, refused last week to take the hand 
of an old friend, in Federal uniform, who presented him- 
self at her door. 

" I have heard no less than half-a-dozen damsels say, 
in a tone of perfect calmness, that they had rather have 
every friend they had die, and die themselves, than 
have the South submit to a restoration with those whom 


they esteem to be its enemies. I believe they meant 
what they said, and would abide by it to the letter. 
Such women as these are influential enemies, and it 
will be said by many that they deserve all the insult 
and harm they have received in retm-n for their enmity. 
I do not think so, and, far as I am from defending their 
devotion to a cause wicked in its inception, I cannot 
refrain fr-om as much wonder as admhation of the few 
among the many in the valley who preserve a like devo- 
tion to the sacred cause of the Union. 

" One incident avtLI always be g-ratefiil and thi-ilHng 
in the memory of this army. While the troops were 
passing through Winchester, on their retm-n, three 
yoimg and accomplished ladies, wearing the colours of 
our flag upon their breasts, and weaving the same 
banner borne by the marching regiments, stood in front 
of a single dwelling, smiling welcome. To the officers 
who stopped to greet them they expressed a heartfelt 
joy at the presence of om* soldiers', and to those officers 
they bade farewell with trembling voices, and eyes 
swimming in regretful tears." 

See, here is another paper ; look at it also ; it is from 
my own loved State, dear reader, and, bidding adieu to 
Sherman and his associate band of thieving, murdering 
outlaws, we will just read this letter, w^hose caption 
promises much for the Confederacy in the event of the 
supposed extei-mmation of her male heroes : — 


Bayon des Allemands, October 20, 1863. 
« ! -wliither hast thou led me, Egypt (nigger), see 
How I convey my shame out of thine eyes 


By looking back on what I have left behind, 
'Stroy'd in dishonour." 

Antony and Cleopatra, Act iii. Sc. ix. 

" Mr. Editor, — What have we come to ? Has this 
cruel and -iinnatural war scattered away manly feelings ? 
Has it destroyed that courtesy and those delicate atten- 
tions towards ladies for which our country was once so 
justly famed ? It would seem, indeed, that our instincts 
were changed, and that our sense of propriety had worn 
itself out. 

" The tale I will now tell does not seem to appertain 
to an order of things apparently possible in the nine- 
teenth century, and yet I vouch that it is not taken 
from the history of the Goths, Vandals, or Saracens. 
The whole is modern history ; not that of the middle 
ages, but of yesterday. The hero is an officer of volun- 
teers, a captain, a provost-marshal, and not one of 
Attila, Totila, or Tamerlane's savage hordes. The 
heroine is a pretty girl of seventeen, of French descent, 
a sweet, a lovely Creole. 

" There you have, Mr. Editor, the ' dramatis personse.' 
Reader, blush, not through modesty ; there is no love in 
my story, and it will not end in a marriage, I am sure ; 
for some one must blush through shame when he looks 
back on what 'he has left behind,' ''stroy'd in dis- 

"In Napoleonville, a pretty village on Bayon La- 
fourche, Louisiana, on the 9th of October, as the rich 
sun of the South was descending behind the tall 
cypresses, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight 
hundred and sixty-three, and in the full face of the 
nineteenth century, a man, an officer of the United 

2 C 


States Volunteers, di'ove in his buggy to a gate opening 
into a flower garden, stretched before a mansion with 
some pretension to taste, comfort, and even elegance. 
AVhilst the man secm-es his horse near the gate, watch 
him ; he is fretting ; he looks all-sorts ; his step, his 
mien, tell of his designs of anger. He comes lq all the 
grandem- of his wrath — he, the representative of an al- 
mighty power — to exercise retributive justice. On the 
piazza you may see a young lady, reading. Mr. 
Editor, I ^^oll introduce her to you — ' Miss Leontia 
Bordis.' - She rose to receive, with a courtesy, the man 
who approached the house. 

" ' Miss Bordis, I suppose ? ' 

" ' Yes, Su',' she replied. 

" ' You have here a colom'ed gnl ? ' 

" ' Yes, Sn,' she returned. ' You are Capt. Rudgard, 
I presume ? ' 

" ' I am Captain Budgard,' said he, advancing 
towards her, with a threat in his looks and in the 
gesture of his hands. ' Go for that gnl,' continued he, 
pointing to the door. 

" ' The masters of this house, Sn, receive no one's 
orders ; they are not your servants.' 

" However, as this Miss Leontia had heard of the 
man's temper and character, she dii'ected her younger 
sister to call Juhenne, the servant girl. 

" ' Go yom'self, I command you ; do you understand 

" ' No, Sn, never I ' was the reply. 

"The servant had now come, when the Captain 
commenced speaking to her in English, of which 
Julienne did not understand one word. 


" ' Sis, you mil come with me ? ' 

" The girl shakes her head, rolls her eyes, grins ; 
she does not understand. Then with emphasis, ' Miss, 
you shall interpret for me.' 

" ' Never ! ' she rephed. 

" Having lost all hope of subduing that noble spirit, 
he turned to the younger sister with a peremptory order 
to repeat faithfully to the servant all he would tell her, 
and to return her answers to him. 

"'Ondine,' said Leontia, 'not a word, sister, speak 
not a word.' 

" She had scarcely finished, when that man— if I can 
call him a man — sprang towards Leontia, and, seizing 
her by the shoulders, tried to thi'ow her down. He did 
not succeed ui the attempt, but he pushed her against 
the wall. A second time he made an effort to tlu'ow 
her, when she, taking hold of his long beard, fell upon 
his breast. She clung to that beard with all the 
desperate energy of an offended female. There were 
present at that hideous scuffle Leontia's venerable 
grandmother and little Ondine ; her mother is in the 
grave, her father was not at home— he is far away, he 
will come. 

" The maddened provost, now bearded, seized her 
wrists, tearing her skin with his nails, shaking her 
whole frame with all his power, while she, having 
become frantic with pain, convulsed with indignation, 
clings to his whiskers and beard, tearing both away. 
Her efforts to protect herself have enraged hhn ; with 
his nails he digs in her flesh; but she cannot be overcome. 
So far the little rebel has won the field ! 

"When bloody tragedy ceases, then commences 

2 C 2 


ludicrous comedy. There is no flag of truce sent from 
one belligerent to the other ; they are still face to face, 
but panting, bleeding, choked with pain and madness, 
in the presence of the T\dtnesses whom his roaring, the 
cries of the children, and the loud supplication of the 
grandmother have caused to assemble. The Captain 
asks for quarter; he proposes terms to her who is 
nearly fainting, but whose indomitable corn-age bears up 
against the weakness of her sex. 

" He capitulates, ' Please, miss, let my beard go ! ' 
She at first says nothing, but continues to hold on 
firmly. ' If I let yom- arms go ^^t.11 you let my beard 

" 'Yes,' she answers. 

" ' "Well, then let my beard go.' 

" ' Xo, let my arms free first.' 

" Then he released her. He can look on what he has 
left beliind, " 'stroy'd in dishonom*," scattered on the 
floor, and hanging to those delicate fingers which an 
u'on will has made terrible ; he maddens at the sight ; 
it is a whole wreck of his manhood around liim. But 
he dares not retm^n to the charge ; there stands before 
him that pretty gfrl of seventeen, with her large 
beautiful black eyes, her dark tresses, her delicate 
features of the deepest ciimson. All her blood seems 
to have rushed to her heart to make it stout, and to her 
face, returning to render her more lovely. There she 
stands, mute, bidding defiance. 

" ' Say,' exclaims the man, the Captain, the Provost- 
Marshal. ' Say that hereafter you vnll behave like a 
lady!' . 

" • I have always been a lady. I was bom one.' 


"Again Mr. Editor, the man, sprung upon her, scratch- 
ing and bruising her ; but he bethought himself of his 
beard before she had time to recommence hostihties. 
It was well ; it was in good time that he drew back his 
fangs. At that moment he remembers that he is Pro- 
vost-Marshal, and he says, ' I arrest you, Miss ; you are 
my prisoner ; you shall follow me.' 

" ' No, Sir, I shall not follow you.' 

'"If you do not, I will send for my guard and take 
you in my arms.' Good heavens ! such a girl in the 
arms of such a man ! ' By force I will put you in my 

" Leontia pauses, she trembles, her breast heaves 
with fear ; with a sigh, in a low tone of voice, she says, 
* I will go.' 

" ' To-night you shall stay in prison, to-morrow you 
shall be sent to New Orleans.' And then, coming nearer 
to her and holding a handful of that hair which had been 
his beard, he piteously said, ' What must I do with it ?' 

" ' Give it to me,' she replied ; ' I will take proper 
care of it.' 

" He does not answer, but carefully puts it in his 
pocket. It will be produced in court ; a witness — an 
undeniable proof of guilt when he sits in judgment 
against her. 

" Whilst she puts on her gloves, before leaving the 
house, he whispers to her, ' I shall make it impossible 

for you, when you are in New Orleans, to ' she 

heard no more, his words are low, inaudible, incompre- 
hensible sounds, falling upon the ears of one, whom her 
present emotions made insensible to all except to pain, 
and her dread of the future. 


" They leave ; Leontia's grandmother has obtained 
permission to accompany her cliild ; they reach the 
Com't-house. The Provost-Marshal sends for IMr. D. 
Leblanc to be a protection to his captive — perhaps this 
means to be her security against further attempts on his 
beard ; for, taking in both hands what he had already 
bestowed in his pockets — ' See two handfuls.' He sits 
looking gloomily on what had been ''stroy'd in dis- 
honour.' After telling his own version of the facts he 
orders that Leontia should spend the night in prison ; 
but Mr. Leblanc prays so hard, begs so earnestly, sup- 
plicates with so much humility, that he consents, at last, 
that she should stay for the night in Mr. Leblanc's house, 
with a Provost-Marshal's guard keeping the watch. 

" Early in the morning Leontia and her friends 
appeared at the Court-house. Mr. Leblanc has sent for 
Mr. Gentil, a friend of the Bordis family. The Captain 
Provost-Marshal sits calm and composed on the judge's 
chair, in the quadruple capacity of plaintiff, prosecuting 
attorney, witness — the evidence in his pocket — and 
judge, to mete out justice. Hear ! hear ! he spake fii'st 
of Julienne, the servant-girl, stating that she had been 
cmelly treated by Miss Bordis. To this statement Leontia 
gave an indignant denial. There was contempt enough 
in her cui'ved lip to crush an ordinary man, but not enough 
for a captain of volunteers ; there was a flash of indig- 
nation in her eyes — erect, she was beautifally scornful. 
The judge di'opped the nigger, and his beard was the 
next charge. Some has been saved, it is true ; he has 
it in his pocket ; but there is no salve that viiH remedy 
the evil. From the judge's hands it cannot be replanted 
on the judge's face. Whereas this cannot be done, the 


court condemns the accused, found guilty of tearing a 
provost-marshars beard, to take forthwith the oath of 
allegiance to the United States Constitution — a repara- 
tion, an atonement, due to the majesty of the law. On 
the fulfilling of this infliction the accused shall be set at 

" Miss Leontia, who, like most of the pretty girls of 
seventeen, seems to be made up of such components as 
self-will, self-dignity, with a little of reckless stubborn- 
ness, replies in the negative to the judge's injunction. 
' No,' she says ; ' I will never take the oath of allegi- 

" ' Something must be done. Take her to the next 
room, and prevail upon her to take the oath,' says the 
judge. Officious friends expostulate with her; her 
grandmother cries ; they all beg her to yield. 

" ' No,' she repeats ; ' I Tvdll never take that oath.' 

" ' Then write to the judge a letter of apology.' 

"She writes; it is not a letter of apology; it is 
refused. She writes another ; it is also refused, and 
both are sent back. She will wiite no more. It is for 
the judge to extricate himself from the difficulty the 
best way he can ; the girl demm'S, and stays all pro- 
ceedings towards an adjustment. Another efibrt is made; 
she yields at last, and sends her ultimatum — ' I consider 
myself French; I will consent to take the oath of 

" ' That will do,' says the judge, ' provided I regam 
possession of one of those letters I reftised to receive.* 

" The letter is given to him ; he administers the oath 
of neutrality to Miss Leontia Bordis, who returns to her 
home with her grandmother and her friends. 


" Girls of the World ! nine cheers for Leontia ! 
Men of all nations ! nine groans for the Captain Provost- 
Marshal. "Modern History." 

From scenes like the first of this chapter — painful, 
and like the last — farcical, I will now, dear reader, turn 
and beg your perusal of the letter wliich vdW conclude 
tliis recital, which, in its false prophecy, reminds us of 
the oft-repeated " On to Richmond ;" but its sentiment 
finds an echo in all Southern hearts, teeming as it does 
with hope, confidence in God, and finn intention to 
conquer or to die. 

" Address to the Citizens of New Orleans, 

" Executive Office, Shreveport, La., 
January 30, 1864. 
" To the Citizens of New Orleans, — 

" I greet you as the Governor of Louisiana. Your 
trials and your troubles are well known, and your 
patriotic conduct fully appreciated by the Executive of 
your State. Do not be despondent ! Do not despair ; 
but rather let the fii-es of patriotism bum brightly at 
every fii-eside ; for in a few short months you shall be 
free. You have been despoiled and robbed, and basely 
insulted. Every indignity that a brutal, unpriacipled, 
and a vindictive foe could invent, has been heaped upon 
you. Bear your persecutions as did yom* fathers before 
you, and nerve your hearts for the coming hour. Our 
people are flocking to the army in every direction, and 
when the spring campaign opens, half a million of gallant 
Confederate soldiers will strike for liberty and inde- 



"Citizens of New Orleans,— Be true to yourselves, 
and your State will be true to you. Spurn all proposi- 
tions for compromises of any kind. Spit upon the 
insulting proposal for a bastard State Government. 
Keep your own counsels. Do your duty and bide your 
time. You shall be free ! The hated tyrants who lord 
it over you now, who daily insult you without remorse, 
and rob you without shame— these accursed villains, this 
crew of thieves and murderers, will yet receive their 


" Ladies of New Orleans,— God Almighty bless you 
and sustain you in all your trials ; may Heaven guard you 
and protect you ! ' When spring-time comes,' gentle 
ladies, you will see the ' Grey Coats ' again, and then 
f ou shall Avelcome back to New Orleans the sons and 
daughters of Louisiana. You are the treasures of the 
earth. Oh ! be not weary in well doing. Cheer up the 
desponding. Be kind to our prisoners who are lan- 
guishing ui the wretched cells of the enemy. You will 
receive the undying gratitude of your country, and in 
heaven above you will be crowned among the angels of 
the living God. 

"(Signed) "HenryW. Allen, 

" Governor of the State of Louisiana." 



While sacred music floats upon the air, 

The mournful cortege wends its way along 
Through myrtle groves, while feathered warblers waking 

Blend with the chant their melancholy song. 

The grove is reached ! the last sad notes are over, 

The requiem fades upon the morning air ! 
They strew bright blossoms on the earth above her, 

And leave her, while they breathe a silent prayer. 
No cypress tree above her couch is waving, 

But palm and date trees shade her lonely grave, 
While glancing sunbeams, and the bright stars shining. 

Keep quiet vigil by the amber wave. 

" Be just and fear not." 

Again we turn to New Orleans to fatness a mournful 
spectacle, one in its solemnity, sublimely grand. The 
bells are pealing the funeral knell of one of Louisiana's 
faii'est and best beloved daughters, and we behold in 
front of her residence, corner of Rampart and Esplanade 
Streets, the sympathising multitude, who have assembled 
from humble cottages and stately homes to catch a 
glimpse of the coffin, in which the mortal remains of 
Margueiite Caroline Deslonde, -wife of General G. T. 
Beauregard, are enshrined. Hushed and respectful 
stand the vast multitude. A stifled sob arises at inter- 
vals, but breaks softly on the rock of despotism, which 


it stniggles against. The voice of tlie petty tyi-ant has 
proclaimed that she may be borne to her last resting 
place, in the parish of Saint John Baptist, " provided 
there be no demonstration." The procession of priests 
in their robes, with Bishop Odin at the head ; the array 
of youth and age ; the sad regard that each face wears, 
the silent tear coursing down the cheek ; the flower- 
covered streets which lead from her mandon to where 
the steamer lay ; the almost audible beating of hearts as 
the burial casket comes in view of the multitude on its 
bed of lilies, roses, and orange blossoms ; the bowed 
heads of the awe-inspired thousands ; the whispered 
prayer of the vast throng — is demonstration^ such as no 
tyrant can suppress, and beyond the power of language 
to pom^tray. Only sixty persons are allowed to act as 
escort to the body, and Marguerite Caroline Deslonde, 
the honoured, noble wife of G. T. Beaiu-egard, is soon 
borne down the river to the plantation, where, after an 
imposing service, she is left in quiet peace, alike uncon- 
scious of homage or of insult. 

General Banks would scarcely have granted the 
request, to convey her body to the plantation, nor 
would he have placed his own steamer, the " Nebraska," 
at the disposal of her family, had not the organ through 
which he breathes his true sentiments, betrayed his 
inhuman and indelicate feelings, when it published the 
following brutal announcement of Mrs. Beauregard's 
death : — 

" The morning papers announce the death of the 
wife of G. T. Beauregard. She died at her residence, 
on Esplanade Street, on the evening of the 2nd instant. 
This Avoman has, we learn, been in poor health for the 


past two or three years, and has required, what has 
been denied her, the care and attention of the man who 
gave her his word at the altar to cherish and protect 
her. He also swore at one time to support the consti- 
tution of the United States. He does not hold his oath 
in very high estimation, as we find him not only plotting 
for the destruction of his country, but deserting his 
invalid wife for years together, and leaving her depend- 
ant upon others for those acts of kindness and support 
that should be given by a husband. We know very 
little of the life or character of the deceased, further 
than that she was an invalid, neglected by her sworn 
protector, and left by him under the powerful protection 
of the flag whose glory he is devoting his puny energies 
to sully. But when he is called to his final account, he 
will have the mortification of kno^\TQg that the lustre 
of the Stars and Stripes is all the blighter, and liis 
betrayed country the more powerful, for the treason of 
himself and co-conspirators." 

The intense excitement caused by this article filled 
General Banks's soul vrith. dread, and in order, after a 
fashion, to make some show of manliness, he permitted 
a public funeral. This was poor atonement for the base 
insult, and the scowl which rested upon the brow of 
Southerners, as they read "tliis woman," told of a 
deeper thinist of the poignard of outrage than the famous 
article ^Vo. 28, of General- Butler-notoriety^ ivhich only 
pointed to ^^ women styling themselves ladies" and whose 
conduct in the public thoroughfares deserved reproach. 
" This woman " was apphed to a lady, born and bred 
6uch. One whose position dming her whole Hfe was 
exalted, and whose career from the cradle to the grave 


was one of virtue and unparalleled excellence. Not 
content with casting a slur upon the dead, he has pre- 
sumed in this article to asperse the character of the noble 
Beauregard, whose attachment to his wife is well known. 
Yes, in the silent face of the dead has this vile loathsome 
wretch dared to utter falsehood. General Banks did not 
even require his mouthpiece to apologise. 

How different did General Butler act, when upon his 
arrival in New Orleans, he heard that Mrs. Beauregard 
was ill. He sent for Mr. Sauve, and said to him, " I 
leam that Mrs. Beam-egard is quite ill — not expected to 
live ; if this be the case, and she desires an inter^aew 
-with her husband, he may enter the city, unmolested, / 
shall not see it^ 

It was said that General Beauregard did visit Mrs. 
Beauregard, but / can only vouch for the conduct of 
General Butler, as related by an intimate friend of 
General Beauregard. 

General Butler again evinced charitable feeling upon 
an occasion which it may not be inappropriate to mention 
here. I had been staying some few weeks at the Ursuline 
Convent, and it was during the dearth of provisions 
(floiu- especially), when Generals Butler and Shepley 
monopolised the purchase and sale. One of the nuns 
(the Mother Assistant) said to me, 

" From what I have heard you say regarding your 
interviews with Generals Butler and Shepley, they may 
allow us, at your request, to pm-chase flour, for if they do 
not we shall have to discharge our scholars, retaining 
only our orphans, whom we are forced to keep. We 
cannot get provisions, and are nearly out." 

I told her that I would do so, and when I went into 


the city visited General Butler, for the piirpose of asking 
a pass to enter the Confederacy. 

I was received most courteously, but was refused 
the pass unless I would take the oath of allegiance to 
the United States, which I refused most positively to do. 
Upon rising to leave, I mentioned briefly my conversa- 
tion vdth. the ^lother Assistant of the Ursuline Convent. 

'^ When did this occur. Miss ?" he said. 

I responded, " Last week." 

" Then present my compliments to the Superior, and 
say to her, that if she tnt.11 make out a list of what pro- 
visions she requh-es, I will fill it Tvith pleasm-e icith or 
ivitJiout moneys 

I forthwith bore the message, and was told by 
Sister St. Michel that they had that day been fortunate 
enough to make a prnx-hase at auction of all they would 
need for some time. 

I wi'ote the General a note of thanks, in the name of 
the ladies, saying that they would be most happy to 
accept liis proffer should a dearth occur again. I vrniQ 
this from my personal experience, and to prove to the 
world that there is a difference between " to seem " and 
" to her 

I was detained in New Oi'leans after its occuj^ation, 
for five months, and though I was granted eveiy favour 
which I condescended to ask of either Generals Butler or 
Shepley, I was thus put to many inconveniences, but 
at last made my escape, with a pass penned hy General 
Butler himself, for a Miss " Jane Florence," which he 
gave to a lady who had taken the oath for a per- 
son whom he deemed her protege, as the inchvidual 
led him to suppose. The lady who procm*ed it for me 



was an entire stranger to me, but having heard I was 
anxious to leave the city, vohniteered to obtaui a pass, 
which I told her could not be done if my own name 
were given, so she merely reversed my pro and cogno- 
men, and succeeded in deceiving the- General. General 
Butler did many acts while in New Orleans, for which 
he has just claims on the regard of some of the first 
famihes ; in f.xct the elite of the city in many instances 
wi'oto him letters, in which were expressed the most 
unbounded admiration and esteem. 

Mrs. Slocum of New Orleans, wound up her epistle of 
grateful acknowledgments (for his protection of her 
property) by a sentence which speaks volumes for Butler, 
while it reflects no credit upon her as a Confederate and 
Southerner, whose son was then in the Confederate 
States Army. She concluded, " Yom- magnanimity 
can only be equalled by the cowardice of the men of 
New Orleans." 

" I have a plain, unvarnished 
Tale delivered ; " receive it or 
Reject it, as you like. 



" A strange woman, truly — not young ; yet her face, 
Wan and worn as it was, bore about it the trace 
Of a beauty time could not ruin. For the whole 
Quiet cheek, youth's lost bloom left transparent, the soul 
Seem'd to fill with its own light, like some sunny fountain 
Everlastingly fed from far off in the mountain. 
That pours, in a garden deserted, its streams, 
And all the more lovely for loneliness seems. 
So that watching that face, you would scarce pause to guess 
The years whicli its calm careworn lines might express. 
Feeling only what suffering with these must have past. 
To have perfected there so much sweetness at last." 

Loud boomed the cannon, shrill sounded fife and drum, 
and gaily rang the stirring music of the various bands 
throughout the city of Richmond, on the morning of 

the , while the patriotic citizens were seen 

huii'^dng to and fro in holiday costume ; and regiments 
of worn soldiers were di'awn up in fi'ont of the Presi- 
dent's mansion, whose doors, windows, and gates were 
garlanded with bright blossoms fix)m wood and glen, 
and floating ribbons fluttered in the breeze ; and though 
war was at their thi'eshold, they veiled the vision for 
this day, and even danced with mirth and song, when 
assembled in the Grey Mansion to do honom- to one 


whose name and fame had cast a lustre upon the Con- 
federate arms. General Beaumont, a French gentleman 
of distinction, had gallantly fought, side by side, with 
the renowned General Lee ; and, grateful for his ser- 
vice, the people of Richmond had determined to present 
him and his brave troops with a testimonial of their 
regard in the form of a flag, made by the fau-est women 
of the South. 

Miss de Villerie was chosen to present the colours ; 
and in military style, in front of the President's man- 
sion, and in presence of the entire population. Miss de 
Villerie, at the appointed hour, escorted by a corps of 
ladies, attired in grey, and mounted, like herself, on 
magnificent steeds, and wearing the military ^chapeau, 
proceeded to the place of rendezvous. 

AiTayed in thread-bare uniforms, and mounted upon 
war-worn steeds, awaited the generals and military 
men, and when Miss de Villerie appeared, a cheer of 
enthusiastic greeting arose and rent the air ; an avenue 
at the same time opening through the dense throng to 
admit the cavalcade. General Beaumont was seated 
beside the President, in an open landau, drawn by four 
magnificent grey chargers. Miss de Villerie, joined by 

General S (who bore the banner), advanced towards 

the equipage and stopped immediately in front, a burst 
of applause startling the echoes of city, hill, and dale. 
When silence reigned, she spoke in clear tones ; address- 
ing a few appropriate remarks to the General, expressive 
of the appreciation of the Southern people for his ser- 
vices, so nobly, gallantly rendered, and placing her 
hand upon the flag-staff, she said, in conclusion, "Accept 
this tribute of a bleeding nation's esteem, hallowed as 

2 D 


its folds are by the tears of mothers, wives, and sisters, 
and consecrated to the cause of Truth and Juftfice.'" 

She ceased, and General Beaumont rephed in a few 
brief sentences, gracefully delivered ; the band struck 
La Marseillaise; — the crowd dispersed, — and de Miss 
Villerie, with her escort, proceeded to the President's 
mansion, where music, dance, and haimony reigned 
until a late hour. 

Miss de Villerie passed through this scene in dreamy 
abstractedness ; her pale cheek, from which the roses 
had long since fled, bespeaking suffering such as only 
those who have seen their brightest highest hopes 
perish, and have witnessed the entombiug even of their 
best and firmest trust, can feel. She passed amidst the 
crowd regardless of the praise which rang from the lips 
of gay cavaliers around her. In this brilliant assembly 
she was with, not of them, and her eye seemed to 
follow — 

*' Her heart, and that was far away, 
Where a rude grave ly James River layV 



*' 'T is not that — but, alas ! — but I cannot conceal 
That I have not forgotten the past — but I feel 
That I cannot accept all these gifts on your part, — 
Rank, wealth, love, esteem — in return for a heart, 
Which is only a ruin ! " 

With words warm and wild, 

" Tho' a ruin it be, trust me yet to rebuild 
And restore," the Duke cried ; " tho' ruin it be, 
Since so dear is that ruin, ah ! yield it to me." 

On the morning after the day on which the above scene 
was enacted Miss De Villerie sat alone in her boudoir. 
Reader, when first she was presented to your notice, it 
was in the zenith of her beauty and bloom ; when the 
star of hope shone bright in mid-heaven, and sur- 
rounded by jfriends tried and faithful — she stood the 
peerless queen of the Crescent city, and the fair repre- 
sentative of its Creole maidens. A brief period of years 
has passed since then, but a century of woe has rolled 
over her soul, and her raven tresses, bespiinkled by 
Care's argent threads, bespeak a tale of mental anguish, 
and shadow forth a ruin such as Father Time could not 
have paralleled. She now sits arrayed in cloud-like 
India muslin morning-dress, richly trimmed in Valen- 
ciennes lace, and the misty floating folds of her dress are 

2 D 2 


confined to her slender waist by a sash of lilac ribbon, a 
few sprigs of lilies of the valley worn in the side of her 
hair, which is combed in a Grecian knot low on her 
neck, complete her simple yet elegant toilette. She was 
seated beside a small table on which rested three minia- 
tm-es and a lock of nut-brown hair ; she had placed the 
latter to her lips when a gentle rap at the door of the 
apartment caused her to drop the hair into the case of 
the miniature and say, " Entrez'' 

Her sei-vant, Victorine, who remained faithful to her 
amidst every change, entered with a card, wliich she 
handed to her mistress. 

" Ah ! General Beaumont," she said, " ask liim to 
enter, and place these (pointing to the miniatm-es) in 
my jewel-casket." 

General Beaumont entering, gracefully, the compli- 
ments of the morning were exchanged, when the General, 
pohtely alluding to the event of the day previous, said, 
" Miss De Villerie, yesterday, to me, was indeed a day of 
triumph, and of happy recollections never to be forgotten! 
Not that I received your coimtry's homage and witnessed 
its gratitude, but because God should have so ordained it 
that the offering should be made by Natalie De Villerie, 
the only being I ever loved;" at the same time thro\\4ng 
off the light Tvng and whiskers he stood before Miss De 
Villerie's astonished gaze the veritable Count Beauhar- 
nais, he continued, " Natalie, do you not know me ? Do 
you not feel me at last worthy of your love ? I who have 
so long, so ardently hoped and prayed for this moment 
when yom* countiy would have acknowledged me 
worthy its lovely daughter. Speak, Natahe; tell me 
I have not loved in vain." 


Miss De Yillerie trembled with emotion cat tliis 
denouement, she clasped her hands to her forehead as it 
were to shut out some vision ; gradually her head sunk 
upon her breast— he approached her, she waived him 
off, but he knelt before her, saying, "forgive me, Natalie, 
if my expressions of a feehng wliich overpowers me 
pain you. I know your heart and read its story long 
ago, and none, save love pure as mine, could have wor- 
shipped you, even when you held the cold hfeless form 
of another pressed to your heart, and prayed for your 
happiness wliile you kissed another's lips. Natalie, 
nought but love, enduring as Time could have recog- 
nised under the various forms and disguises of Miss 
Clayton, Soeur Secessia, and Miss Laval, the beautiful 
Natahe De Villerie. I have traced you everywhere ; I 
have followed on faithfully ; I know your suftering, I 
respect it ; but, Natahe, endeavour to forget, and trust 
to my love for futm-e happiness." 

She answered through her tears, "Happiness, Count! 
Alas, there is none for me m this world. My heart is 
in the grave. I speak thus, as you seem to know all. 
I never loved but once— can never love again. You 
ask me to be yours ; would you care to wed with 
one between whose love and yours would hang a 
funeral pall ? Would you wish to place the firm founda- 
tion of such a structure as love has reared in your noble 
heart upon a quagmire in which it would sink to rise 
no more? Do you desire to place golden drapery on 
the wmdows of a ruin where the mildew of cold and 
damp shall gather? No! no! I cannot consent to a 
deed of sacrilege." 

" Natahe, I will not urge the matter, nor say more 


at present. You have termed your heart a ruiii, it is, 
nevertheless, dear to me. I Avill rebuild its broken 
arches, I Tvdll on the adamantine base of my o^vti 
rear again its fallen columns of beauty, and on the 
pinnacle of this edifice inscribe my motto, ^ Xil 
desperandum.^ Farewell." Respectfully he raised her 
hand, and pressing it to his lips arose and left the 

Again the tide of bitter memories rose and fell, and 
once again she was called upon for a sacrifice. The 
morning passed away in tears and reflection, and when 
evening fell she wrote thus : — 

" Count Beauharnais, — If the gratitude and esteem 
of one whose love dwells with the dead are deemed a 
sufficient recompense for your long and faithful sei^ce 
to my country, and your unwavering devotion to me, I 
consent to be yours ; trusting that if I cannot be happy 
myself, I shall thus render happy one who is worthy of 
a pm-er and more profound affection than I can ever 
give him. 

" Give me but until the end of this unhappy strife, 
and by that time, perhaps, the feehng which now seems 
perjury to the dead ^^11 have somewhat lessened, and I 
shall be more fit to vow fealty as your bride, and more 
strengthened in the idea of the duty I owe towards the 
Kving as well as the dead. The heart, withered and 
crushed, could never be revived by a less noble or ardent 
love than that of a Beauharnais; this name alone is 
worthy the heart's first offering, which, alas ! it is not 
mine to yield. 

" Farewell ! Rest content with my promise ; if God 


SO ordains it, it will be fulfilled. Until then we are, 
before the world and to each other, but as friends. 

"Natalie de Yillerie." 

Reader, I feel you would fain know more. Would 
that I might rise the dim veil of futurity, and take your 
hand m mine, and, pressing it to my lips, say farewell 
to her and thee, as I pointed to a happy home, envu-oned 
by all which is bright and beautiftd. 

*' Shut out by Alpine hills from the rude world, 
Near a clear lake, margined by fruits of gold 
And whispering myrtles ; glassing softest skies, 
As cloudless, save with rare and roseate shadows, 
As we would have her fate ! " 



" The steed is vanished from the stall ; 
No eerf is seen in Hassan's hall ; 
The lonely spider's thin grey pall 
Waves slowly widening oer the wall ; 
The bat builds in his harem bower, 
And in the fortress of his power, 

The owl usurps the beacon-tower ; 

The wild dog howls o'er the fountain's brim 

With baffled thirst, and famine grim ; 

For the stream has shrunk from its marble bed. 

Where the weeds and the desolate dust are spread." 

The once beautifully cultivated fields are overgrown 
with nettles, and the fences are torn down ; the slaves 
are no longer to be heard by the traveller, at mom or 
at eve, singing their songs of merry, innocent glee ; the 
charred rums of then: once pretty cottages are seen, and 
the cattle even are no more heard, nor tmklmg bells of 
sheep greet the ear, while withui all speaks of rum 


and decay. The skrubs are withered and uncared for, 
the parterres are weed-grown, and reptiles lurk beneath ; 
now and then a shattered marble rises amidst the rank 
grass and brambles, to speak of some spent shell aimed 
at an imaginary guerilla ; the places where statues once 
stood are now but the resting-place of the couchant in- 
vader on sentinel duty ; the fountains are fissured and 
broken, and their once clear streams are now a sanguine 
hue ; the birds, even, have flown to sunnier scenes, and 
warble their strains amidst gayer foliage ; the chateau 
is in a state of dilapidation, and the mournful winds 
sweep through its open casements, wailing for the dead 
and absent ; the floor is strewn with pieces of marble of 
exquisite workmansliip, while the fresco work of walls 
and ceilings is covered with ruin, and insects are creep- 
ing over all ; the bat flaps his dark wings in the upper 
chambers ; and the dove alone remains to moan in piteous 
strains o'er Desolation's Tableaux ! 1 1 


To the Addresses of 

Messrs. Hiestand and Homer (Union), 

Appearing before the public for the first time, as the 
press feared arrest, suppression, and imprisonment, 
should they publish it. 


" There was a little man, and he had a little soul, 
And he said, ' Little Soul, let us try, try, try, 

Whether it's within our reach 

To make up a little speech 
Just between little you, and little I, I, I, 
Just between little you and little I ! ' 

" Away then cheek by jowl. 

Little Man and little Soul 
Went and spoke their little speech to a tittle, tittle, tittle, 

And the world all declare 

That this priggish little pair 

Never yet in all their lives look'd so little, little, little. 
Never yet in all their lives looked so Little." 

The vaunted liberty of an American press has been long 
the theme upon which all nations have dwelt with praise, 
and then- admuation has been unbounded, at the piivi- 


lege which they have heretofore imagmed all fi'ee 
citizens of oiu- far-famed countiy possessed, namely, 
liberty to think, speak, and write as each and eveiy one 
felt inclined. 

I Tvill now lay before the eyes of the civilized world 
a case in point, and prove this impression false. In the 
month of November, 1863, I was called upon by a 
gentleman, and asked by him if I had seen the last 
" Era," to which I replied in the negative ; he went on 
to state its contents, and remarked that it was teeming 
with interesting matter, and that he would send it to 
me ; stating that I might probably find the speeches of 
Messrs. Hiestand and Horner worthy a penisal, as they 
seemed devoted exclusively to the abuse of my sex, and 
the ridiculing of " old men," who were so indiscreet as 
to ventm-e upon any subjects in their presence, save the 
most common-place remarks. 

The same evening I received the paper, and found 
the addi'ess to be of the same style as those delivered 
some months previously by the same gentlemen, and 
which, strange to state, I had in my possession (not 
being retained for their rhetorical beauty, but their 
absm'd remarks and inelegant language) ; and I T\dll 
now lay them both before the public, with the regret 
that, hke Herastratus, who bm*ned the Temple of Diana 
at Ephesus, for the purpose of having his napie im- 
mortalized, the author vrHl gain notoiiety by even 
ignoble means. 

On reading the article, I was fired ^dth indignation, 
and, seizing my pen, wrote hastily a reponse, which I 
took to the office of one of the leading joui'nals, for 
publication ; but, after retahiing it thi'ee days, the 


editor, wlio desii'ocl to publish it, returned it, with the 
note wliich you will also find herein. It speaks for itself. 
I then, en personne^ asked several editors to publish it^ 
saying that / in no icay feared the consequences ; but 
though all were solicitous to have it published, each in 
turn returned it, saying that they feared their offices 
would be closed by the authorities, and that the greatest 
difficulty would be that it would never be believed a 
woman had written it. 

But forced to abandon the idea of publishing it, I 
resolved to place it before the public in this form, and 
trust that the " Ladies of New Orleans " may not deem 
their defence as arrived too late. Heaven bless them ! 
they need none ; but like the little rivulet that though 
small its offering, it forms a part of the many waters 
which go to make up the vast ocean, I like it, have 
contributed one ripple more to the surface of that sea 
of eulogy, on wliich the Southern women must ever 
float triumphant above the malignity and envy of their 
enemies. With an apology for digression, and quoting 
Byron, I will place the subject before you. 

I must own, 

If I have any fault, it is digression, 
Leaving my people to proceed alone, 

While I soliloquize beyond expression ; 
But these are my addresses from the throne, 

Which put off business to the ensuing session : 
Forgetting each omission is a loss to 
The world, not quite so great as Ariosto. 

Sham State Government. 

" The traitors in New Orleans, who have shifted their 
allegiance with the same facility that they do their 


garments, have held a meeting to precipitate the forma- 
tion of a civil government for the State. It does not 
appear whether they have been disturbed by any qualms 
of conscience concerning the legality of their military 
government, or whether they are itching for a share of 
power. It is most likely, since the prominent actors in 
the proceedings are lawyers, that the distribution of 
the judicial posts, and the desire to open others by the 
appointment of a Supreme Court, have been the incen- 
tives. This suggestion derives some plausibility from 
the fact that a meeting of those laT\yers who dena- 
tionalized and degraded themselves by taldng the oath, 
was recently held to request General Shipley, the 
"Military Governor of Louisiana," to appoint a Supreme 
Com't, or to fill the vacancies m it, Judge Buchanan 
having qualified himself for infamy by retracting his 
oath of loyalty to the Confederacy, and swearing 
another to the United States, with a promptitude that 
entitles him to their highest consideration. 

We have before us the " Era " of the 15th March, 
fr'om which it appears that Dr. Riddell presided at the 
meeting of the Union Association to which we have 
aUuded, and Hiestand was the principal speaker. The 
report proceeds: — 

Judge Hiestand took up the question as to the 
expediency of organizing a provisional State Govern- 
ment. He remarked that " at the present critical period 
it were far better to raise aimies than to make con- 
stitutions. There is no civil government in Louisiana. 
Om- escutcheon bears an eagle, vriih the oHve branch 
in one hand and the thunderbolt in the other. Until the 
rebellion is quelled we should dispense only thunder- 


bolts ; then make constitutions. I appeal to this assem- 
blage to know if there are not thousands of 'loyal' 
traitors in NeAV Orleans to-night— men who have taken 
the oath of allegiance? I ask if there are not men 
holding high positions in this city to-day who are 
traitors ? The truth must be told, and I am not afraid 
to tell it. Why do we never see here the faces of our 
city officials ? Their very silence is damning to them. 
The women of New Orleans yet insult loyal men by the 
rebel badge in their bonnets, two red roses with a white 
one in the centre. Our national constitution is strong 
enough to protect us. Civil government is impracticable 
in the face of these military operations. 

" Mr. President, take away these Federal bayonets 
and I doubt if you or I would live twenty-four hours, 
simply because, through all these dark days of rebelhon, 
we have been true to the old flag. Are you aware that 
on the pine trees across the lake, there is posted a black 
list containing the names of those who would be 
instantly sacrificed should New Orleans be retaken? 
The South has rebelled against progress and the laws 
of God Almighty. I sleep more soundly at night, 
because I know I am protected by Federal bayonets. 
To me, almost a refugee from all I hold dear, the 
absence of military protection at present would be a 
degradation worse than damnation itself. Inaugm-ate 
civil government and you will give the cotton barons of 
Caronnelet Street the exclusive control of our liberties. 
For God's sake, let us do nothing to hazard the lives of 
our soldiers or om'selves." 

It is gratifying to perceive that the perjured mis- 
creants have some foretaste and conception of the doom 


wliicli certainly awaits them when the day of righteous 
vengeance shall come. 

Mr. Horner and Colonel Field seem not to be so 
nervous. They insist on a re-estabhshment of civil 
government. Hiestand w^as appointed a judge by 
Shepley. Horner and Field are out in the cold. 

Mr. Horner said the speaker had entirely failed to 
convhice him of the tnith of his statements. Om- flag 
is the emblem of progress, not of regress. The gTeat 
cause of the rebelhon has passed away from this section 
of Louisiana, and all the powers of hell cannot revive 
it. Every State is guaranteed a republican form of 
government. We want the reign of bayonets to con- 
tinue no longer than is absolutely necessary. I am m 
favom- of civil government here. Let us take advantage 
of the presence of the mihtary to inaugm-ate it. I 
have confidence in the integrity and honesty of the 

Colonel Field said he could not agree w4th the 
doctrines of the first speaker. Have not members of 
Congress been admitted fr'om Louisiana ? Is not civil 
law in force here ? Does not the Governor, as also his 
judges and justices, administer civil law ? Does military 
law conflict T\4th the exercise of civil right ? It was 
always a principle of oui' government that the mihtary 
was subsei^aent to the civil power. I believe in the 
motto of Senator Davis " Fight, pay, or emigTate." Do 
you suppose any but a loyal man could be elected to a 
responsible position here ? And yet one of the chief 
arguments against the establishment of a provisional 
government is that it would fall into the hands of 
disloyal men. 


Mr. Rozier followed, favouring the scheme, and 
Madison Day " closed the debate by hoping the rebeUion 
would be crushed before measures were taken to in- 
augurate civil government," when the further con- 
sideration of the question was postponed until the next 

Can any punishment be too rigorous for men who 
dip their hands so deep in treason ? Some commi- 
seration can be felt, and perhaps some excuse made for 
those who, timid by nature and threatened by starva- 
tion to their families, have incurred the guilt of for- 
swearing their country, but the participators in this 
meeting and others of like principles are bearing a 
^dUing allegiance to the enemy. When New Orleans 
shall again come under our rule they will attempt to 
justify their conduct on the plea of obligation to obey 
the authorities, who had the mihtary means to enforce 
their orders. If our people accept the plea as sufficient 
they are made of different material than we now 

It appears that the traitors propose to fill the 
various civil offices, governor, judges, legislature, &c. 
Such proceedings can of course lay no claim to legality, 
but if the enemy shall control sufficient territory to 
prevent our election next fall of one-half of the 
legislature, where will the power of making laws 
reside? Will it be suspended? Some persons ridi- 
cule the argument of Chief Justice Ven-ick by which 
he attempts to prove that a majority of those elected 
within our lines will constitute a constitutional legis- 
lature. We do not venture an opmion on the subject. 
We leave it to lawyers to discuss and judges to decide, 

2 E 


but if tlie contrary doctrine be correct, and one-half of 
the legislature fail of an election by the presence of 
Federal bayonets, the State will have lost one of the 
most important attributes of her sovereignty, viz., her 
legislative function. Our jocose picture of a heated 
canvass for the Chief Justiceship, which extorted the 
judge's argument, will have served to set on foot an 
investigation of this curious question. 

Union Assocl\tion. 

Meeting at the Lyceum Hall. 

Speeches of C. W, Homer, Esq., and Judge Hiestand. 

There was another grand gathering of the friends of 
the Union at Lyceum Hall last night, and, although the 
weather was rather unpropitious, the attendance on the 
part of the ladies was very large — showing the deep 
interest our fair friends take in the Union cause. 

. The meeting was presided over by Dr. Schuppert, 
and Mr. Chadwick acted as secretary. The president 
announced that ^Ir. Homer and Judge Hiestand had 
been invited to address the Association, and Mr. H. 
immediately took the stand, and was gTeeted with a 
round of applause. 

He thanked the audience for their kind welcome on 
his return. He came back to them confirmed in the 
convictions with which he left them — that this rebelHon 
would finally be crushed. He left New Orleans in the 
latter part of June, at a time when the clouds of defeat 
had darkened o'er the land, and the fi-iends of the Union 
were despondent, if not despairing. The city was 
excited to an intense degree. Hooker had fought the 


battle of Chancellorsville, and some twelve or fifteen 
thousand of our fellow-countrymen lay killed or wounded 
on the bloody field. So much for Hooker ! Grant had 
commenced his campaign in Mississippi, and was besieg- 
ing the boasted Gibraltar of the rebels. The Con- 
federates were threatening New Orleans, and had all 
the means at their disposal to make good their threats.' 
Such was the condition of our army when he left the 
city for the North. Treason was the common conversa- 
tion in the streets and saloons, and the spiteful "she 
adders " spit and spluttered more venomously than 
ever. Arriving at New York, he found the same state 
of afiairs. The Unionists were sad and gloomy ; the 
Copperheads were jubilant, and our friends gave up all 
as lost. " The game is up," they said, " our money is 
worthless, our armies are defeated, our leaders out- 
generaled ; " and hearing them talk, he almost imagined 
himself back again on Canal Street, standing by the 
statute of the noble Clay — the great champion of the 
Union, whose hand of fellowship is always stretched 
out, not across the way, directing you to " get your 
slnrts at Moody's," but towards the North, as it ever 
was during his lifetime — he imagined himself standing 
there and listening to the foul treason of our New 
Orleans secessionists, for he found the Copperheadism of 
New York even more bitterly disunion than was the 
secessionism of New Orleans. 

He returned, however, and all was changed. The 
grand battle of Gettysburg had been fought, crowning 
the Union arms with a glorious and complete victory. 
Lee had been hurled back to Virginia in a terrible 
defeat — discomfited, overwhelmed, and pelted by the 

2 E 2 


merciless elements. Grant had taken the impregnable 
fortress of Vicksbnrg, and the cowering and stai-xang 
gan'ison had been forced to humble itself before the 
Stars and Stripes. And Banks, at Port Hudson, had 
re-enacted the same glorious drama, and inscribed his 
own, and the names of the heroic army he commanded, 
upon the roll of those names who have deserved so well 
of their country. He returned to find no indications of 
joy in the eyes of the secession ladies, they were as 
meek as lambs, and their tongues had lost the ac- 
customed sting. With the traitors all was gloom, 
wliile joy reigned in the heart of each friend of the 
Union. It was a glorious change, and had been 
T\TOught by the prowess of om- gallant armies on many 
a bloody field. 

A few days after he got home, he met a very old 
and wealthy citizen, who has devoted all his energies 
in life to making money, and who had formerly pub- 
lished a newspaper called the " National Advocate," a 
Secession sheet, that for the sake of the few picayunes 
that it wrung fi-om the hands of its Secession supporters, 
was wont to issue an extra every fifteen minutes, con- 
taining the most encouraging news of the rebel cause 
that could be gathered from the four quarters of the 
Confederacy. This old man asked him if he had read 
his brochure, entitled '' The Bhth, Life, and Death of the 
' National Advocate.' " He rephed that he had not, but 
since then he has read it, and he found that the old 
gentlemen was right in the view he had taken of the 
condition of afiairs in this State, and of the necessities 
of the times, for he therein puts forth the very doctrine 
for which we are contending. He is sound in his prin- 


eiples, and to prove that he is, the speaker then read 
the foUowmg extract from the pamphlet aUuded to : — 

" By the new census, Louisiana is entitled to five 
members. Let them be elected on a general picket, 
to be voted for by every white loyal citizen who 
has resided in the State a required period ; and at the 
proper time, let there be a convention to form a new 
constitution, providing for an immediate or ultimate 
emancipation of slaves." 

Napoleon had said that he more dreaded three news- 
papers than a hundred thousand bayonets ; and since he 
had been gone from the city three newspapers had 
sprung hito existence — thi-ee loyal papers, advocating 
the principles of hberty and free speech — a fact which 
shows that freedom of the press and of speech exist 

He spoke in terms of commendation of the coloured 
schools, and was glad to see the little children of a 
down-trodden race receiving the benefits of an educa- 
tion. He hoped these institutions would flourish and 
prosper, and that they might prove the germ of a higher 
and brighter civilization. It was an indication of the 
progress of the times. 

He had met a rank Secessionist a few days since, 
who seemed to forget his former rancorous feelings, and 
had entered into conversation with him. This man ex- 
pressed an unwillingness to speak on the politics of the 
times ; but was very anxious about getting rid of 
martial law, that the civil authorities should be rein- 
stated, and the government of Louisiana be set in 
motion once more in the old way ; and he asked his 
opinion as to the feasibihty of adopting some measure 


to bring about such a state of affairs. " Sir," said I, "we 
will never get rid of martial law till we get rid oi 
AMcan slavery. Never can we sever the destinies of 
Louisiana from the North-west, so long as that grand 
chain, that perpetual bond of union, the Mississippi, con- 
tinues to roll her mighty flood down to the great gulf 

With calm resignation the Roman father of old, 
bound in chams, awaited the coming of his sons to 
release him. With equal patience w^ill Louisiana, bound 
by the chains of slavers^, wait, and never accept relief, 
except at the hands of her o^m noble sons ; and the day 
is not far distant when they will come m their strength, 
and strike off her shackles, and she will rise in the 
grandeur of her newly-acquired liberty, redeemed, re- 
generated, and disenthralled. 

He visited Boston while in the North, and paid liis 
devotions to Liberty at the slnine erected on Bunker 
Hill. He remembered, too, that this monument com- 
memorated a defeat. It was the first great battle for 
American liberty, and it was the first defeat. And fi'om 
this first field of our first struggle for liberty his thoughts 
turned to the battle-stained plains of Manassas. The 
coincidence was striking. There, too, had the armies 
of freedom met defeat in theh fu'st encounter ; and 
after we had washed out by our blood all record of our 
sinful temporizing with foul treason, and had achieved 
the victoiy in this second war of independence, by 
crushing out black rebelhon, he wanted to see a monu- 
ment twice as high as that of Bunker Hill erected upon 
the plains of Manassas, upon which shall be engraved 
the words, in letters of gold, " One God, one nation, one 


people, and one freedom." " Liberty, justice, and truth, 
now and for ever." 

The splendid effort of Mr. Homer, to wliich we have 
failed to do justice by this hasty sketch, was received 
with delight by the audience. 

Judge Hiestand was next introduced. As he was 
slightly indisposed, he feared that he would not be able 
to entertain or interest his auditors, but his apology was 
unnecessary, for he made an excellent and powerful 
speech. We have only room for some of the most im- 
portant parts this morning, but shall endeavour to give 
it more in full in oui* next issue. 

He told of his trip to the North — how, like the 
devout Mahomedan, he had made a pilgrimage to the 
Meccas of America, to renew his faith and his patriotism, 
by bowing where our fathers bled for freedom in the 
early days of the Republic. He had also visited the 
seat of government, that he might learn from the lips of 
the President himself the policy he intended to pursue, 
both Tvdth regard to the emancipation proclamation and 
the retm*n of Louisiana to the Union. In company with 
Mr. Horner and another citizen of Louisiana he called 
upon Mr. Lincoln. It was the belief of some in this city 
that the President would recede from the proclamation 
freeing the slaves, and he was desirous of bemg satisfied 
upon that point. Mr. Lincoln expressed much anxiety 
that Louisiana should, as soon as it could be consistently 
done, range herself in line with the other loyal States 
of the Union; "but at the same time," he remarked, 
" the loyal people of Louisiana are themselves the best 
judges as to the moment when such a movement shall 
become practicable." 


In regard to the question of receding from the pro- 
clamation, during the conversation on the subject the 
President said : — " It is dangerous for a man to say 
what he will not do, for thrice did Peler deny his Lord; 
but, if I know myself, while I occupy the Presidential 
chair, not one jot or tittle of that proclamation shall be 

The interview with the President was ui every way 

In New York, Judge Hiestand could not but con- 
trast the miiversal prosperity of all classes ; so marked 
was the difference in every respect from the state of 
affairs at home, even in the most peaceful times, that he 
w^as convinced there never had been any prosperity in 
the South, except that of a privileged class, and the only 
way to make our State prosperous is to imitate those 
great States of the North, and cast loose from that 
crushing incubus which weighs do^vn our energies and 
destroys our wealth and power — Afr'ican slavery. 

He spoke of the almost universal determiaation of 
the North to persist in this war till the rebelKon was 
crushed. He had met with but few who held any other 
opinion or desire. As for himself, he wished that he 
could stand in the centre of the Confederacy and pro- 
claim the only grounds upon which this struggle can be 
brought to a close. He would tell them, " Lay down 
yom' arms, depart from the country, or die ! " Twenty 
millions will not surrender up their liberties, or be 
dictated to by these rebels. They may meet with 
reverses, may suffer defeats ; but in the end the cause 
of justice and humanity will prevail, the rebellion will 
he crushed, and the Southern States will take their place 


once more among the glorious stars that shine with 
eternal brightness in the American constellation. 

In the North he was approached by many with the 
question : " What are you going to do with the negroes ? 
They are lazy, thievish, and, when freed from the power 
of their masters, will not work, and what can you do 
with them ?" 

He replied : " We will put them in a position to take 
care of themselves, and then, if they don't do it, why 
let them go down as other worthless races have done, 
and let their places be filled by others who will work. 
We will release them from their chains, and give them 
Hberty to act for themselves. Give them a trial ere we 
condemn them." 

He \\dshed it particularly to be understood that he 
was no negro worshipper, nor had he ever had any 
scruples about the morality of slavery ; but the question 
is, shall we sacrifice that institution or sacrifice our 
country — the fr-ee institutions bequeathed to us by our 
fathers. Forbid it. Heaven ! He would rather see the 
earth open and swallow up the entire Confederacy, him- 
self included, than that the rebellion should succeed and 
such a fate overtake the Republic, which is now the only 
hope of freedom in the world. The people of the United 
States are playing for no small stake. He could calcu- 
late to a fraction the value of the vast wealth and 
resources of the country, but he could not calculate the 
value of that inestimable privilege the freeman enjoys 
of sitting beneath his own vine and fig tree with none 
to make him afr-aid, as he plucks his grapes and figs in 
peace and freedom. God Almighty never intended that 
so great a creation should be so Hghtly destroyed. 


He has seen many negroes in New York who were 
industrious, worked faithfully, were honest and trust- 
worthy, and when he asked those who seemed so deeply 
concerned about what we would do with the negroes, 
how they managed to get along with that class of their 
population, the answer was, " Oh, they are educated.' 
"Well, oui' negroes are also educated — educated to work, 
and there is no reason why in their altered condition 
they should not become as honest and industrious as 
the same race has proved in the North. He chd not 
wish to be understood as holding the opinion that the 
negToes can be at once brought into a condition to folly 
enjoy all the privileges of freedom. It was diJBficult to 
elevate a race from absolute slavery to a high state of 
civilisation immediately, but that was no reason why a 
commencement should not be made. It is a great poli- 
tical question we have to solve. What shall we do with 
the 4,000,000 of human beings that have been released 
from slavery — but that is a secondary matter to the 
grand object of putting down the rebeUion. Let aU 
our energies be dnected to the accomphshment of that 
great task; let us get rid of that fii'st, and then we 
shall find a way to get rid of the negTo question. 

In closing, he would take occasion to express his 
heartfelt satisfaction at the manner in which he was 
received wherever he went, in the East and in the "West. 
He was warmly and cordially welcomed by his brethren 
in the gTeat cause of the Union everywhere he went, 
and could not but feel gTatified "uith the many proofs of 
friendship that had been exhibited towards him by the 
supporters of the Union in the loyal States ; and when 
the proper time comes none will rejoice more than he to 


isee Louisiana the first to range herself by their side in 
the glorious cause of Union and liberty. 

He retired from the stand amid loud plaudits of his 
auditors, and the meeting was adj omened. 

Previous to the adjournment Dr. Dostie announced 
that Colonel A. P. Field and Rufiis Waples, Esq., would 
addi'ess the Association on next Saturday evening. 

*' Messrs. Horner and Hiestand, 

" I have read with mingled feelings of disgust and 
contempt your stump-orator-like address delivered before 
the audience which assembled at the Lyceum Hall on 
Satm-day evening last. I have always been under the 
impression that persons who go abroad to see the world, 
or in other words make a tour, generally return more 
cultivated and refined ; what your claims to the above 
may have been ere yom- extensive tour I am unable to 
state, but judging from the feeble, nay, abortive efforts 
made in your orations of 31st ultimo to find words to 
convey your ideas, I should say your tour was not like 
that of ' the dove who flies over the earth and rests 
upon the beautiftil only,' but, like the buzzard, you 
alighted on nought save filthy carrion, and having be- 
come impregnated with the stench, you now seek to 
* spit and splutter it over your hearers, who must have 
felt themselves degraded, be their politics what they 
may, at the presumption of individuals so little gifted 
by nature, as well as education, in advancing such 
remarks as the extracts teem with. But as your genius 
seldom soars above the ''roses' in a lady's bonnet, or, 
at the- farthest, the top of 'Moody's signboard,' which 
board must forcibly remind you of the stained garments 


of deceit, malice, and treachery in which yon walk daily 
habited. I was not sm-prised at the spoutings of bad 
EngHsh and slang, only suited to the haunts where the 
dark sons of Africa ' most do congregate.' — A fit orator 
indeed for the Sable Race. 

" Though I looked, and looked in vain, for that high 
stand (Hiestand) of rhetoric which I had expected to find 
you had assumed, I found only the sting of the Horner (t) 
throughout. The next thing to be considered is the 
entfre absence of the bump of reverence in your cranium 
(which, if you ever possessed it, was certainly by some 
accident ' stove in'), when you are so lost to everything 
like veneration as to facetiously dub the gentleman 
refeiTed to of the National Advocate * The Old Man.' 
Of course we recognize the person thus irreverently 
alluded to as Jacob Barker, Esq., whose character as a 
loyal citizen you would fain asperse by yom- vile insinua- 
tions of Secessionism. Has the learned gentleman ever 
read the history of his country, or does he presume any 
one else has ? Is he aware that the gentleman whom 
he thus dares to tamper with, and hold up to pubhc 
ridicule, is styled by all who are acquainted with the 
dark stmggle of 1812 - 14, ' The Preserver of the Union 1 
Is the honourable speaker aware that this ' OLD :man' for- 
nished the means to cany on the war which led to our 
final independence, and by his herculean efibrts cast into 
the then empty United States treasury the sum of over 
jive millions of doUars, and came gallantly to the rescue 
of the sinking ship of state when others held tight their 
pm'se-stnngs ? Is the veiy urbane gentleman acquainted 
with the antecedents of this old man, and of the fact of 
his having ' exhausted all his means and energies' years 


agone to presence this Glorious Union, of which all can 
talk and babble, but few have had the honom- of framing ? 
Is he cognizant of these facts ? If not I am happy to 
be able to inform him, but probably history can do so 
more lucidly. ' The great champion of the noble Union,' 
whom you have termed Henry Clay, was the intimate 
friend of this ' old man,' as well as others, many others, 
too numerous to mention, upon whose brow Fame^s 
laurel wreath has rested. I am fully aware that, in aU 
revolutions, the scum of society rises to the surface for 
a brief while, but I trust, lilve all fermentations of a 
sappy nature, it may soon be skimmed off by the ladle 
of good sense and discrimination. There are some cha- 
racters which, like the sun, are too effulgent to gaze 
upon, and pain the vision until, like the sun, they are in 
eclipse ; does the courteous and kirid speaker wish to cast 
over Jacob Barker, Esq., an echpse, that his brightness 
may not be so painful to him ? If so he will find him- 
self unsuccessful m his attempts, as the halo of glory 
which beams upon this ^old jnan shrow vdll but increase in 
radience as he nears the shore of eternity. There may 
be individuals forgetfril or ignorant of his worth, but so 
long as the ' Stars and Stripes' shall wave shall the 
name of Jacob Barker be dear to every true Unionist. 
What has excited your animosity against this gentleman 
is, I presume, his having espoused the cause of the 
LADIES OF New Orleans, and his having endeavoured 
to place them before those in command in the proper 
hght, as well as to discern prejudice. For this act he 
should have been lauded, instead of being traduced and 
made the mark for poisoned shafts ; and I believe that 
his remarks did find an echo in the heart of every honest 


gentleman, be they Unionist or Secessionist. What 
must your opinion of yourself be, or what imagine you 
must the public think of an individual so lost to all claims 
to manliood as to employ his eloquence (ye gods forgive 
for this misnomer I) and pen in the nolle abuse of women 2 
Surely you are but a bm'lesque man, not the elevated, 
high-souled being foiTQed to the image and likeness of 
God? Truly, there is nought of the Don Quixote in 
you. What, presume you, must yom* mother think of 
you ? I am sure if she were possessed of any of the 
principles of a lady she would, if Hving, blush to acknow- 
ledge you, and if dead, her very ashes icould turn a sau' 
guine hue at the scun-ilous vituperations used against her 
sex. But, alas ! we generally judge the tree by its fruit ; 
and I pity from my heart a son whose ungentlemanly 
conduct has caused me to cast reflection upon the mother. 
Have not the ladies of New Orleans been sufficiently 
humiliated in seeing their beautiful city in the possession 
of strangers ? and have they not suJBfered enough of 
anguish in being deprived of all that life holds dear, viz., 
the presence of husbands, fathers, sons, and brothers, 
parted never to meet again on earth ? If they choose 
to wear a few blossoms twined from memory's wreath, 
(even be they red^ white and red), should this be cause 
for such wholesale abuse'? Ai'e ladies whose presence you 
would not dare to enter to calmly submit to such inso- 
lence, because you deem yourself protected by a row of 

bayonets'? (Judge H , I believe, is the one who 

objected so strongly to the military government being dis- 
pensed with, as he considered himself safe only when 
behind a rampart of steel.) Forbid it. Heaven ! I am 
a lady, and as such pronounce you COXTE]\iptible 


POLTROONS. If there be any females who are so devoid 
of the respect and homage that is due to their sex as to 
endorse anything you have said or may say, I would 
suggest to them to weave a chaplet of spotless unfadinq 
mushrooms for the brow of this modern Cicero and 

"N.B.— Will the very erudite speaker be so kind as 
to mfom us where the Meccas of America are geo- 
graphically situated, or whom he deems the Mahomets 
of the Western world, as he so generously and gratuit- 
ously informs us of the situation of the ^g^df heloio-?' 
But possibly we were mistaken as to the point to which 
the gentleman would fain direct our attention, and that 
It IS not the Gulf of Mexico to which he refers, but the 
fiery gulf of which we read in Scripture, towards which 
in my mmd's eye, I see him rapidly approaching in the 
steam-frigate 'Self-Importance,' whose figure-head is a 
' She Adder.' "* 

' OiEce, 

"Miss F. J. O'Connor. 

_" I am very soiTy I cannot have the pleasure of pub- 
lishing the communication, but I'm over-rukd. Indeed 
I find It IS considered a much more dangerous document 
than I can regard it, so much so, that parties who have 
hitherto printed simUar efilisions, now refuse to do this 
' Order,' you are aware, ' reigns in Warsaw,' and with it 
a very successful system of espionage, one begotten in 
tear, and pursued in the interest of the first law of 
nature-self.preservation. The Unionists would band 
together, and hunt down, like a pack of bloodhoimds, 
the author and puWisher of such a writing. To my 
* The name given to females by General Butler. 


own knowledge they have done such things abeady, 
and the miHtary authorities were compelled to sustain 
them, and to punish by heavy fine the authors of some 
pasquinades on Doske and others. Even the distribu- 
tors of them were also fined. Believe me, you are 
giving those creatures an undue importance when you 
consider their ' bad eminence.' 

" So do not honour him so much 
To prick thy finger, though to wound his heart ; 
What valour were it, when a cur doth grin, 
For one to thrust his hand between his teeth. 
When he might spurn him with his foot away." 

" Youi' obedient servant." 


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