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1. >. KIH'S, Editor. I
VOL. 111.
THE HERALD.
PUBLISHED WEEKLY AT
GREENSBORO’, GA.
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F. L. LITTLE
! Attorney at Law.
SPARTA GEORGIA
WILL pay strict attention to all business
entrusted to his care, nov23
y T JORDAN
ATTORNEY AT LAW
SPAETA,aA.
Office tn Law Buildiag
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| dec 14
MEDICAL.
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f fully offer their professsonal services to th« pubs
[ lie I
L Office on Public Square
Sparta 6 a
ji mar 19
SASSEEN’S
I United States Hotel.
I' SASSEEN, YORK k JOIRDAN,
PROPRIETORS,
i*VEITHIN 100 Yard* of theGvneral Pas
senger Depot, Corner Alabama and Pryo
streets, Atlanta. Gn.
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July 2nd, 1868-ts. Clerks
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- IT V HOTEL.
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GREENSBORO.’ GA.
ndl he few* at •WjT.sla
THE GREENSBORO’ HERALD.
POETRY.
From tbe Macon Telegraph.
BATTLE OF UETTYNBUBG.
BY OSSIAN D. GORMAN.
Hark ! what loud thunders wake the air v
And what quick rattle thrills around,
O'er field and wood, and rising bill. _
A rapid, Sere*, ooul-uuiug sound *
Fair Gettysburg tta# s«eue displays,
Os cannoned trench and bristling walls-y
When loud, rude battle’s sounding trump,
To death and carnage fiercely ealls.
See, yon dark line in stately tramp.
Survey the fatal hills before;
Mark yon sharp line of bayonets gleam.
And list the cannon’s deafening roar.
Now soon the conflict grows apace—.
‘‘Charge, charge/” re-echoes to the sound;
Right onward rush the vet'ran hosts,
And on the ramparts soon are found.
Loud thunders now the battle's din.
And trembling peals the cannon’s wrath;
Now hand to hand the legions join.
And death shrieks wildly o’er their path.
“Back, back, ye dastard, hireling band/”
Rings out amid the caßnon peals;
When on they surge the Southern lines, *
’Mid flame, to where tbs column reels.
They fly fast o'er the smoking plains,
Before the Southronj’ march of death.
Like Summer in the Libyan wilds,
Before the Kamsin’s parching breath.
To right and left on either flauk,
Longstreet aud Hill extend the scene,
While Lee and Ewell drive the front,
IKhere late the stubborn hosts had been.
Now far and wbeat-crowned stretch the hills;
Anew bluze forth the fiery plains;
Now quick they rally for the charge—
Hist, how tbe fierce death shower rains !
A thousand banners flaunt tbs breeze,
The “stars and bars’’ are waving there,
Amid the countless bayoUet gleams.
That pierce tbe smoke of that death air.
See. how the dark gray lines are crowned
With halos from the battle clouds!
See. bow tbe cannon’d hills are wrapt
With their death omen’d fiery shrouds 1
And mark bow fierce the conflict grows,
How grapple legions in their ire.
While carnage, with her bloody slain,
Is building battle’s funeral pyre.
Now, night, with her pale virgin-moon,
Shone on a thousand soldier graves,
While many a eorpse lay ghastly still,
Drowned in her fiery battle waves.
Dim was the light on their new mounds.
Nor heard thov then the nrmloo fr.mn
Her saw they those star-banners flaunt
Their farewell o’er the lone death eamp.
Fort Deleware, July 9, 1868.
NAPOLEON'S COURTSHIP.
HIS FIRST INTERVIEW WITH JOSE
PHINE HIS ATTENTION AS A
SUITOR.
Miss Mublbach’s “Empress Jose
phine” contains the following fanci
ful but interesting account of the
courtship of Napoleon and Jose
phine.
Josephine was not alone when
Bonaparte was announced; and
when the servant named him she
could not repress any inward fear,
without knowing why she was
afraid. Her friends, who noticed
her tremor and blush, and laughed
jestingly at the timidity which made
her tremble at the name of the con
queror of Paris, and this was per
haps the reason why Josephine re
ceived General Bonaparte with less
complacency than she generally
showed to her suitors.
Amid the general silence of all
those present, tho young general
(26 years old) entered the drawing
room of tho Viscountess Bcauhnais ;
and this silence, however flattering
it might he to his pride, caused
him a slight embarassment, lie
therefore approached tho beautiful
widow with a certain abrupt and
perplexed manner, and spoke to her
in that hasty and imperious tone
which might become a general, but
which did not seem appropriate in a
lady’s saloon. Gen. Pichegru, who
stood near Josephine, smiled, and
even her amiable countenance was
overspread with slight xprossion of
scorn, as she fixed her beautiful
eyes on this pale, thin, little man,
whose long, smooth hair fell in
taDgled disorder on cither side of
his temples over his sallow, hollow
checks; whose whole sickly and
gloomy appearance bore so little re
semblance to tho majestic figure of
the lion to which he had been so of
ten compared after his sucess of the
thirteenth Vendemairc.
“I perceive, general,” suddenly
exclaimed Josephine, “that you are
sorry it was your duty to fill Paris
once more with blood and horror.
Yon would undoubtedly have pre
ferred not to be obliged to carry
out the bloody orders of the af
frighted convention *”
“That is*very possible.” said he.
“But what can you expect madam ?
We military men are but automa
GREENSBORO’, GA., THURSDAY, JULY 9, 1868.
tons which the government sets in
motion according to its good pleas
ure ; we know only how to obey.—
The sections, however, can not but
congratulate themselves that I have
spared them so much. Nearly all
my cannons were loaded only with
powder. I wanted to give a little
lesson to the Parisians. The whole
affair was nothing but the impre?B
of my soai on France. Such skir
mishes are only the vespers of my
fame.
Josephine felt irritated, excited
by the coldness with which Napo
leon spoke of the slaughter of that
I day ; and her eyes, otherwise so full
of gentleness, were now inflamed
with the flashes of anger.
“Oh,” cried she, “if you must
purchase fame at such a price, I
would sooner you were one of the
victims.
Bonaparte looked at her with as
tonishmens, but as he perceived her
flushed cheek and eyes, the sight of
her beauty ravished him, and a soft,
pleasant smile suddenly illumina
ted his countenance. He answer
ed her violent attack by light pleas
antry and with gladsome unaffected
ness he gave the conversation an
other turn. The small, pale,
gloomy general was at once changed
into a young, impassioned, amiable
cavalier who»e countenance grew
beautiful under the sparkling intel
ligence which animated it, and
whose enchanting eloquence made
his conversation attractive and live
ly, carrying with it the conviction
of a superior mind.
After the visitors who had met
that morning in Josephino’s draw
ing-room had departed, the Gener
al remained, notwithstanding the
astonished and questioning looks of
the viscountess, paying no attention
to her remarks about the fine weath
er, or her intention to enjoy a prom
enade.
With rapid steps and arms folded
behind his bank ha naaad » f«w
times to and fro the room ; then,
standing, before Josephine, he fixed
on her a searching look.
“Madam,” said he suddenly, with
a kind of rough tone, “I have a
proposition to make ; give me your
hand. Be my wife.”
Josephine looked at him, half
astonished, half irritated. “Is it a
joke you arc indulging in ?” said
she.
“I speak in all earnestness,” said
Bonaparte, warmly. Will you do
me the honor of giving me your
hand?” .
“Sir,” said she, “who knows if I
might not be inclined to accept your
distinguished offer, if, unfortunate
ly fate stood not in the way of your
wishes!”
“Fate!” said Bonaparte, with
animation.
“Yes, fate, my general 1” repeat
ed Josephine, smilling. “But let
us speak no more of this. It is
enough that fate forbids me to be
the wife of General Bonaparte. I
can sayno more, for you would
laugh at me.
“But you would laugh at me if
you could turn me away with so
vague an answer,” cried Bonaparte,
with vivacity. I pray you explain
the meaning of your words.”
“Well, general, I cannot be your
wife, for I am destined to be queen
of France—yes, perhaps more than
queen !”
It was now Bonaparte’s turn to
appear astonished and irritated and
using her own words, he said shrug
ging his shoulders : “Madam, is it
a joke you are indulging in !”
“I speak in all earnestness,” said
Josephine, shaking her head.—
“Listen, than: A negro woman in
Martinique foretold my fortune, and
as her oracular words havo thus far
been fulfilled, I must conclude that
tho rest of her prophecies concern
ing me will be realized.”
“And what has -she prophesied
to you ?” asked Bonaparte eager
lj.
“She has told me : “You will
one day be queen of France ! You
wil be still more than queen !”
The general was silent. He had
remained standing; but now slowly
paced the room a few times, his
hands folded on his hack and his
head inclined on his breast. T hen
again he stood before tho viscount
ess, and his eyes rested upon her
with a wondrous bright and genial
expression.
'‘l bid defiance to fate !” he said,
somewhat solemnly, “his prophecy
“VINCIT AMOR PATRIAV’
does not frighten me away, and, in
defiance to your prophetic negro
woman, I, the republican general,
addressed my prayer to the future
queen of France ; be my wife! give
me your hand.”
Josephine felt almost affrighted
at the pertinacity of the general,
and a sentiment of apprehension
overcome her >8 she looked into the
pale, decided countenance of this
man, a stranger to her, and who
claimed her for his wife.
“Oh, sir,” she exclaimed, with
some anguish, “you offer me your
hand with as much carelessness as
if the whole matter was merely for
a contra dance. But I can assure
you that marriage is a very grave
matter, which has no resemblance
whatever to gay dance. I know it
is so. I have had my sad expe
rience and I cannot so easily decide
upon marrying a second time.”
“You refuse my hand, then ?”
said Bonaparte, with a thcatening
tone.
Josephine smiled. “On the con
trary general,” said she, “give me
your hand and accompany mo to
my carraige, which has been wait
ing for me this long time.”
“That means to dismiss me You
close upon me the door of your
drawing-room ?” exclaimed Bona
parte, with warmth.
She shook her head, and bowing
before him with her own irresistible
grace, said, in a friendly manner,
“I am too good a patriot not to be
proud of seeing the conqueror of
Toulon in my drawing room. To
morrow I have an evening recep
tion, and I invite you to be present
general.”
From this day Bonaparte visited
Josephine daily; she was certain
to meet him everywhere. At first
she sought to avoid him, but he,al
ways knew with cunning foresight
how to baffle her efforts, an<Y, to
overcome all difficulties which*Ahe
L!. w.. .L
--friend Theresas, sue rouia eaieiy
reckon that General Bonaparte
would soon make his appearance
and come near her with his eyes
beaming with joy, and in his own
energetic language speak to her of
his love and hopes. Was she to be
present at the reception of the five
monarchs of Paris, it was General
Bonaparte who waited for her at
the door of the hall to offer Jiis ,
arm, and lead her amid tho respect- ;
ful, retreating, and gently applaud
ing crow dto her seat, where ho
stood by her, drawing upon her the
the attention of all. Did she take
a drive, at the accustomed hour, in
the Champ Elyses, she was confi
dent soon to see Genoral Bonaparte
on his gray horse, gallop at her
side, followed by his brilliant staff,
himself the object of public admi
ration and universal respect, and,
finally, if she went to the theatre,
General Bonaparte never failed to
appear in her lodge, to remain near
her during the performance, and
when she left, to offer his arm to
accompany her to her carriage.
It could not fail that this perse
vering homage of the renowned and
universally admired young general
should make a deep and flattering
impression on Josephine’s heart,
and fill her with pride and joy. But
Josephine mado resistance to this
feeling ; she endeavored to shield
herself from it by maternal love.
She sent for her children from
their respective schools, and with
her nearly grown up son on one
side, and her daughter, budding in
to maidenhood, on the other, she
thus presented herself to the gen
eral, and with an enchanting smile,
said ; “See, general, how old I am,
with a grown-up son and daughter
who soon can make mo a grand
mother.”
But Bonaparte, with a heartfelt
emotion, reached his hand to Eu
gene and said: “A man who can
call so worthy a youth as this his
son, is to be envied.”
A cunning, smiling expressiot of
the eye revealed to Josephine that
he had understood her war-strata
gem—that neither the grownt-up
son nor the marriageable daughter
could deter him from his object.
Josephine at last was won by so
much love and tenderness, but she
could not yet acknowledge that the
wounds of her heart were closed;
that she could trust in happinSss,
and devote her life to anew love\ to
anew future. She shrank timilly
away from such a shaping of her
destiny; and even tho persuasions
of her friends and relatives, oven
tbe father of her deceased husband,
could not bring her to a decision.
The state of her mind is depict
ed in a letter which Josophin# wrote
to her friend Madame de Chateau
Renjiud, and which describes in a
great measure the strange uncer
tainty of her heart:
“You have seen Gan, Bonaparte
at my house. Well, then, he is in
the one who wishes to be father of
the orphans of Alexandre de
Beauharnais and the husband of hiß
widow. ‘Do you love him ?’ you
will ask. Well, no. ‘Do you feci
any repugnance towards him !’ No,
but I feel in a state of vacillation
and doubt, a state very disagreea
ble to me, and which the devout in
religious matters consider to be the
.the most scandalizing. As love is
a kind of worship, one ought in its
presence to feel animated by other
feelings than those I now experi
ence, and therefore I long for your
advice, which might bring the con
stant indecision of my mind to a
fixed conclusion. To adopt a firm
course has always appeared to my
creole nonchalance something be
yond reach, and I find it infinitely
more convenient to be led by the
will of another.
“I admire the courage of the
general; lam surprised at his am
ple knowledge, which enables him
to speak fluently on every subject ;
at the vivacity of his genius, which
enables him to guess at the thought
of others before they are express
ed ; but lam frightened at th 6
power he seems to exercise over ev
ery one who comes near him. His
searching look has something
strange, which I cannot explain,
but which has a controlling influ
ence even upon our directors;
judge, therefore, of his influence
over a woman. Finally, the very
I thing which might please—the vio
speaks with *o much neiyp mad
which admits of no doubt—that
passion is exactly what creates in
me the unwillingness I have so of
ten been ready to express.
“The first bloom of youth lies
behind me. Can I therefore hope
that this passion, which in General
Bonaparte resembles an attack of
madness, will last long ? If after
iour union he should cease to love
; me, would he not reproach me for
j what he had done ? Would he not
regret that he had not made anoth
•er and more brilliant union ? What
could I then answer ? What could
Ido ? I could weep. ‘A splendid
remedy 1’ I could hear you say. I
know well that weeping is useless,
but to weep has been the only re
source which I could find when my
poor heart, so easily wounded, has
been hurt. Write to me a long let
ter, and do not fear to scold mo if
you think lam wrong. You know
well that everything which comes
from you is agreeable to mo.”
After their marriage and the suc
cessful campaign in Italy, the hap
py pair enjoyed each other’s socie
ty for a brief time at Montebello,
when occurred the following char
acteristic scene:
All Italy did homage to the con
queror, and it was, therefore, very
natural the sculptors and painters
should endeavor to draw some ad
vantage from this enthusiasm for its
deliverer, and that they should en
deavor to represent to the admirers
of Bonaparte his peculiar form of
countenance. *!
But Bonaparte did not like to
have his portrait painted. The
startling, watchful gaze of an ar
tist was an annoyance to him ; it
made him restless and anxious, as
if he 'feared that the scrutinizing
look at his face might read the se
crets of his soul. Yet at Jose
phine’s tender and pressing request
he had consented to its being taken
by a young painter, Lo Gros,
whose distinguished talent had been
brought to his notice.
Le Gros came, therefore, to
Montebello, happy in the thought
that he could immortalize himself
through a successful portrait of tho
hero whom he honored with all the
enthusiasm of a young heart. But
ho waited in vain three days for
Bonaparte to give him a sitting.—
Tho general had not one instant to
spare’ for the unfortunate young
artist.
At last, at Josephine’s pressing
request, Bonaparte consented on
the fourth day to sit for him one
quarter of an hour after breakfast.
Le Gros came, therefore, delighted,
at the time appointed into the cab
inet of Josephine, and had his easel
ready, awaiting the moment when
Bonaparte should sit in the arm
chair opposite. But alas ! the pain
ter’s hopes were not to be realized.
The general could not bring him
self to sit in that arm-chair doing
nothing but keeping his head quiet,
so that the painter might copy his
features. He had no sooner been
seated than he sprang up suddenly
and declared it was quite impossi
ble to endure such martyrdom.
Le Gros dared not repeat his re
quest, but, with tqars in his eyes,
gatheredjip his painting materials.
Josephine smiled. “I see very
well,” said he, “that I must have
recourse to some extraordinary
means to save for me and for pos
terity a portrait of the hero of Ar
eola.”
She sat down in her arm-chair,
and beckoned to Le Gros to have
his easel in readiness. Then with
a tender voice she called Napoleon
to her, and opening both arms, she
drew him down on her lap, and in
this way she induced him to sit
quietly a few minutes and allow the
painter the sight of his face, thus
enabling him to sketch the portrait.
At the end of this peculiar sit
ting, Bonaparte smilingly promised
that he would next day grant the
painter a second one, provided Jo
sephine would again have the “ex
traordinary means” ready. She
consented, and for four days in suc
cession Le Gros was enabled to sit
before him a quarter of an hour
and throw upon the canvas the fea
tures of the general, while he sat
quietly on Josephine’s lap.
The picture which Le Gros thus
painted, thanks to the sweet rute of
Josephine, and which |was scatter
ed throughout Europe in copper-
standard in his hand, and with face
turned toward his soldiers, calling
on them to follow him as he dashed
on the bridge of Areola amid a
shower of Austrian balls.
It is a beautiful and imposing
picture, and contemporaries praise
it for its likeness to the hero; but
no one could believe that this pale,
grave countenance, these gloomy
eyes and earnest lips, which seem
incapable of a smile, were those of
Bonaparte as he sat on tho lap of
his beloved Josephine when Le
Gros was painting it.
The Death-Song'.
“If you want to hear Annie
Laurie sung, coine to my house to
night,” said a man to his friend.—
“We have a love-lorn fellow in the
village, who was sadly wrecked by
the refusal of a girl that he had
been paying attention for a year or
more. It is seldom that he will un
dertake the song, but when he does,
I tell you he drwas tears from eyes
unused to weeping.”
A small select company had as
sembled in a pleasant parlor, and
were gaily laughing and chatting
when a tall young man entered,
•whose peculiar face and air instant
ly arrested attention. He was ve
ry pale, with that clear, vivid com
plexion which dark-haired consump
tives so often have. His locks
were as black as jet, and hung pro
fusely upon a square, white collar.
Ilis eyes were very large and spir
itual, and his brow such an ona as
a poet ghouhl have. But for a cer
tain wandering look, a casual ob
server would havo pronounced him
a man of uncommon intellectual
powers. The words “poor fellow,”
and “how sad he looks,” went the
rounds as he came forward, bowed
to the company, and took his seat.
One or two thoughtless girls laugh
ed as they whispered that he was
“loved-cracked,” but the rest of
she company treated him with a re
spectful deference.
It was late in the evening when
singing was proposed, and to ask
him to sing “Annie Laurie” was a
task of uncommon delicacy. One
song after another was sung, and
at last one was named. At its men
tion the young man grew deadly
pale, but did not speak ; he seem
ed instantly lost in reverie.
“The name of the girl who treat
ed him so badly was Annie,” said a
lady whispering to anew guest—
LT. H. MORGAN, Printfr.
NO. 12.
“but, oh ! I wish he would sing it,
nobody else can do it justice.”
“No one dares sing Annie Lau
rie before you, Charles,” said air
elderly lady; “would it be too
much for me to ask you to favor the
company with it ?” sho added timid
ly' T
He drd not reply for s moment
—his lips quivered a little, and then
looking up as if he saw a spiritual
presence, began. Every sound was
hushed—it seemed as if his voice
was the voice of an angel The
tones vibrated through nerve, pulse
and heart, and made one shiver
with the pathos of his feeling; nev
er was heard melody in a human
voice like that—so plaintive, so
tender and earnest!
He sat with his head thrown back,
his eyes half closed—the locks of
dark hair glittering against his pal©
temples, his throat swelling with
the rich tones, his hands lightly
folded before him; and as he sung,
“And 'lwne there that Annie Laurie
Gave me li«r promise trae—
it seemed as if he shook from head
to foot with emotion. Many a lip
trembled—and there was no jesting
no laughing, but instead, tears in
more than one eye.
And on he sung, and on, holding
every one in wrapt atten, till bo
came to the last verse—
" Like dew upon tbe te go-nan lying
I* the fa’ of her fairy feet—
Aud like wind# in summer sighing.
Her voice is low and sweet,
Her voice ie low abd sweet,
And she’* a’ world to me.”
He paused a moment before ho
added—
“And for bonnie Annie Laurie*
I’ll lay merdown and die,”
There was a long and solemn si
lence. The black locks seemed to
grow blacker—the white temples
whiter—almost imperceptibly tho
head kept falling back—the eyes
were close shut. One glanced at
Another; all sc-emed awe-struck,,-
/ till the, mmmo parson who argot! him
to sing, laid her .hand gently on
his shoulder, saying: “Charles,
Charles.”
Then came a hush—a thrill of
horror crept through every frame
—the poor, tired heart had ceased
to beat—Charles, the love-betrayed,
was dead.
The African “voters” in the
South stand thus:
Alabama, 105,518
Arkansas 25,566
Florida 16,089
Georgia 85,168
Louisiana 84,436
Mississppi 80,360
North Car01ina......... 72,932
South Carolina 80,5511
Texas 40,497
Virginia 105,832
Total 715,948
The World puts the significant
question: When pay day comes
may not those African voters ob
ject to the payment of the public
debt ? Arc they to he trusted ?
Why is a fashionable young la
dy’s brains like a speckled trout ?
Because they love to sport under a
water-fall.
High Flown. —The editor of the
Morristown Gazette, duns his pa
trons as follows: ‘A man might as
well attempt to quench the phos
phorescent emanations from the
tail-end of a lightening bug with a
squirt-gun, as to try to run a news
paper without money.’
I would rather my daughter
should have a man without money
than money without a man.-
Fhemislocles
A young lady, the other day, in
the course of lecture, said, Get
married young man, and be quick
about it too. Don’t wait for th<»
millenium, hoping that girla may
turn to angels before you trust
yourself to any of them. A pret'y
thing you would be alongside an
angel, would’ntyou, you brute?'’
Why is a prudent man like a
pin? Because his head prevents
him from going too far.
The first month of marriage »*
joy, and the second month is said
to be jawy.
“Pat. is your sister’s child a buy
or a girl ?” “Faith, a**’ I don t
know yet whether I’m an uncle or
an aunt.’’