' "" ’ === ' " ~
THE CONQUERED BANNER.
1?T MOIMA —REV. ABRAM J. RTAJt.
Furl that banner, for 'tis weary ;
Round its eta IT 'tig drooping dreary ;
Furl it, fold it, it in best :
i or there's not a man to wave it.
And there’s not a sword tc save it,
And there's not one left to lave it
In the blood which heroes gave it ;
And its foes now scorn and brave it ;
Furl it— hide it—let it rest.
Take that Banner down, ’tin tattered !
Broken is its staff and shattered!
And the valiant hosts ore scattered,
Over whom it floated high.
Oh ! ’tis hard for us to fold it I
to think there's none to hold it ;
Hard that those, who once unrolled it.
Now must furl it with a sigh.
Furl that Banner—furl it sadly—
Once ten thousands hailed it gladly,
And ten thousands wildly, madly,
Swore it should forever wave—
Hwore that foe man's sword should nerev
Hearts like theirs entwined dissever,
Till that flag should float forever
O’er their freedom or their grave.
Furl It! for the hands that grasped it,
And the hearts that fondly clasped it,
Cold and dead are lying low ;
And that Banner—it is trailing!
While around it sounds the wailing
Os its people in their woe.
For though conquered, they adore it!
Love the cold, dead hands that bore It!
Weep for those who fell before it!
Pardon thoso who trailed and tore it!
But, oh ! wildly they deplore it,
Now, who furl and fold it so.
Furl that Banner! tnit! 'tis gory,
Yet ’tis wreathed round with glory,
And ’twill live in song and story,
Though its folds are in the dust ;
For its fame on brightest pages,
Penned by poets and by sages,
Shull go sounding down the ages—
Thirl its folds though now wc must
Furl that Banner, softly, slowly,
Treat it gently—it is holy—
For it droops above the dead.
Touch it not—unfold it never,
Let it droop there furled forever,
For its people's hopes are dead 1
THE TWO MOTTOES*
BY BLAKE SPEAK.
[Prom the French of Emile Souvestre.]
Two young men were standing in the
diligence office at Cernay, having just se
cured places for Ivaysersburg. They seem
ed to he of tlie same age, about twenty
four, but their countenances were strikingly
dillerent. The smaller was dark and pale,
with quick, impatient movements that be
trayed his Southern origin at a glance.
The other on the contrary, tall, fair, and
fresh colored, presented a perfect type of
that mixed race of Alsatia in which we
hnd French impulsiveness tempered by
Gorman good nature. Each had at his feet
n small trunk, to which the address was
fastened with sealing wax. On one was
written “ Henry Fortin, Marseilles,” and
the w ax at the four corners of the address
here the impress of a seal with this motto,
"'Mon Droit." * The inscription on the other
was Joseph Mulzen, and the motto on the
seal was “ Caritas.”
The office r.eeper had just inscribed their
names on the register, adding the essential
designation with tiro trunks, when Henry
demanded that the trunks should be weigh
ed. The officer keeper said that it would
be done at Kayseisbnrg, but the young
man complained of the annoyance of such
a . hyiuality at the moment of arrival, and
declared that he had a right to have
it done immediately. The office keener
being thus oppressed, became obstinate
m his turn, and tried in vain
to interpose by reminding Henry that
they had scarcely time left for their
dinner. Henry never yielded when lie be
lieved he was in the right, and he al
ways believed he was in the right. The
discussion was prolonged until the* office
keeper, becoming tired of it, left the office.
Henry wished to continue it with the fac
tor, but he fortunately spoke nothing but
German. Ihe > oung man was then obliged
t<> resign himself to a walk to the inn with
ms companion, on whom he vented his ill
Good heavens! You would make a
saint curse !” he cried as soon as ho was
alone with his friend. “ llow is it that
yon did not take my part against that
“It seems to me,” replied Joseph, amil
ing, ** that it was he who required some
one to take his part; you heaped up argu
ments as though it were an affair that
might compromise your fortune or your
It is better, then, in your opinion, not
to defend your right ?”
“ When the right is not worth defend
a -Ah \ that is just like you,” interrupted
Tlenry, “you are always" ready to yield.
You must be trampled on before you ever
dream of defending yourself; instead of
regarding the world as a field of battle,
you look upon it as a drawing-room for
the interchange of compliments.”
“ No,” said .Joseph, “ but as a great
vessel, whose passengers owe each other
reciprocal friendship and tolerance. Every
man is my triend until he declares himself
And I esteem a man my enemy until
he declares himself my friend,” "replied
Henry. “ That is a precaution which has
always succeeded with me, and you will
find that I will have recourse to it at Kay
sersburg. We are going there to meet the
other heirs of our uncle, and they will not
fail to extort everything from the property
that they can, and for my part, I have re
solved to make no concessions.”
While they were speaking, the two
cousins arrived at the inn of the White
Hone. On entering the diningroom they
found it empty—hut the cloth was laid at
one eud of a long table where the hostess
had just placed three covers. Henry or
dered that two others should be added for
Joseph and himself.
“ I hope you will excuse me, sir,” said
the woman, “ but wo cannot serve yon in
“ Why not ?" asked the young man.
“ Because the persons for whom 1 have
jn»t set the table desire to dine alone.”
“ Let them dine in their rooms, then,”
replied Henry roughly. “ This is the pub
lic dining room, and every traveller has a
right to be served here.”
“ What docs it matter whether we dine
in this room or another ?” asked Joseph.
“ What difference can it make to these
people if we dine here ? M replied Henry.
“ They arrived before the gent.eman,”
objected the hostess.
“ Ihen it is the first comer who makes
the law in your house?” cried Henry.
“Besides, we know' these persons.”
“ And you have more consideration for
them than for us ?”
“ The gentleman ought to know that in
the case of a customer —”
“Other travellers must submit to their
“ We will servo you elsewhere.”
“ With the leavings of your privileged
guests, I suppose ?”
The hostess seemed hurt. “If the gen
tleman is afraid of a poor dinner at the
White Horse there are other inns in
Cernay,” said she.
“ That is what I was thinking,” said
Henry, quickly, taking up his hat, and
without listening to Joseph, who wished
to detain him, ho hurried away, and soon
Mulzen knew by experience that it was
best to leave his cousin to his whims, and
that on such occasions any attempt to rea-!
sou with him only served to increase his
quarrelsome mood. lie decided then to j
let him try his luck elsewhere, and to
lose no time in having his own dinner j
served in another room. But just as he!
was leaving the dining room the three ex- j
pected persons entered. The party con- j
sisted of an old lady with her niece and a !
gentleman of about fifty, w ho seemed to bo
The hostess, who was telling them of
what had just occurred, stopped suddenly [
at the sight of Joseph. The young man j
bowed, and tried to withdraw, but the !
companion of the two ladies detained him. !
“ I am distressed, sir,” said lie good hu- !
moredly, “at what has just taken place. In 1
asking to dine alone, we wished to avoid
certain persons whose conversation and
manners would have shocked these ladies,
but not to drive travelers away from the
White Horse, as your friend seemed to
imagine. To prove it, I pray that you will
dine with us to-day.”
Joseph wished to decline, declaring that
lie was not at all wounded by a preeau-1
AUGUSTA, GA., 21, 1868.
tion which ho thought very natural, b u t
Mr. Rosin an (that was the name by which
the two ladies called their protector), in
sisted, in a tone so frank and cordial, that
he thought it best to yield.
The old lady, who seemed little accus
tomed to traveling, seated herself opposite
to him, near her niece, heaving a deep sigh.
“ Are you tired, Charlotte ?” asked Mr.
“Am 1 tired ?” cried the old lady. “To
pass an entire day in a carriage that jolts
you to pieces, to eat at irregular hours, to
run all sorts of dangers, for I do not see
why we have not been upset an hundred
times, the diligence always leaned so much
to one side. Ah, 1 would give a year of
my life if our journey were ended !”
“Happily, the bargain is impossible,”
said the young girl, who kissed her aunt
with a smile.
“ Yes, you may laugh,” replied Madame
Charlotte, in a tone of discontent, partly
assumed. “ Young girls now are afraid
of nothing ! They travel on railroads, in
steamboats, and they would go in a balloon
if there were a regularly established line.
It is the revolution that has made them
so bold. Before the revolution, the
bravest never traveled in anything but a
cart, and only w hen important business
demanded it. I have heard my mother,
who is dead now, say that she never trav
eled except on foot.”
“ And also that she had never gone far
ther than the chief town of the Canton,”
observed Mr. Rosman.
“ That did not prevent her being a wor
thy and a happy woman,” replied Madame
Charlotte. " When Hie bird lias built its
nest it dwells there. To-day the habit of
being always on the high-roads makes
people love their families and firesides less.
They become accustomed to leaving them.
They have their homes everywhere. All
that may be better for society, but it ren
ders each individual less good and less
“ Come, Charlotte, you have a spite
against traveling on account cf the jolting,”
said Mr. Rosman, gaily, “ but; I hope your
prejudice will disappear in the presence of
this soup. They do not make it better at
Fontaine, and I claim for it your impartial
They chatted thus in a pleasant, familiar
tone, Joseph at first maintaining a discreet
silence ; but Mr. Rosman addres.-ed several
remarks to him, and the conversation had
become general, when it was announced that
the diligence w*as going to start. Every
j body hastened to pay the hostess, and gain
the diligence office. Airiving there, Jo
seph perceived his cousin running. The
time that Joseph had passed in eatir.g his
dinner had consumed in seeking a
meal at the different inns of Cernay. Find
ing nothing prepared, ho was obliged at
last to buy some fruit, and a roll, on which
he dined. It may be imagined that this
hermit-like repast had not improved his
temper. Joseph per. eived this, and asked
him no questions. The list of passengers
was being called out, and they were pre
paring to take their places, when the office
keeper perceived he had made a mistake
in the number, and that the diligence
was already full.
“Full!” said Henry; “but we have
paid our fare!”
“ I will return it to you,” said the clerk.
“Not at all!” cried the young man.
“As soon as you accepted the money
there was a contract between us. I have
a right to go, and I will go. He seized
hold of the strap, in pronouncing these
words, and climbed up to the top of the
diligence, where he found a place empty.
The traveler to whom the seat belonged
laid claim to it, but Henry persisted in de
claring that no one had a right to make
him give it up, and if any one attempted
to force him to do so, he would repel vio
lence with violence.
Joseph tried in vain to make a compro
mise. Henry, exasperated by his failing
to get a dinner, persisted in his resolution.
“ Every one his rights,” he cried, “ that is
m y motto! Y our sis charity ‘be charita
ble, then, if you like; as for me, I pretend
omy to be just. I have paid for this seat,
it belongs to me, and I am going to keen
The traveler whose place he had taken,
urged tne priority ol his possession, but
Henry, who was a lawyer, answered w ith
quotations from the law. Ihey continued
lor some time exchanging violent explana
tions, recriminations and threats. Madame
Charlotte, who heard it all from the inside
of the diligence, groaned with fright, re-
iterating her abuse of traveling in general,
and public conveyances in particular. Jo
seph, at last, finding the discussion became
more and more bitter, proposed to the
office keeper to have horses put to a
coach, in which he would go with the
traveler who was dispossessed of his seat.
The expedient was accepted by the parties,
and the diligence started on its way at last’.
It was in the month of December ; the
air, which was cold and damp at the mo
ment of starting, became more chill at the
close of the day. Henry being accustomed
to the warm sun of Provenge, buttoned his
overcoat up to his chin in vain; he shiv
ered like a leaf under the heavy night
dews. His face was blue, his teeth chat
tered, and very soon a fine rain, driven
by the wind, began to penetrate his clothing.
His neighbor, protected by an ample
cloak, could easily have sheltered him,
by giving him a part of bis covering, but
he was a rich, vulgar shopkeeper, very
tender* of his own person, and very in
different to that of others. When Henry
refused to surrender his seat, his fat neigh
bor approved of his resolution, declaring
that “every one traveled on his own ac
count*—a principle which the young man
had then found perfectly reasonable, but
from the application of which he was now
Towards the end of the journey the
merchant put his head out of his wrap
ping, looked at Henry, and said to him :
“You appear to be cold, sir.”
“ I am wet to the skin,” replied Henry,
w ho coulu scarcely speak.
The big traveller shook himself in his
warm cloak, as if better to enjoy his
“It is very unhealthy to be wet,” said
he philosophically; “ another time I advise
you to have a cloak like mine; it is very
warm, and not dear.”
Having given this counsel, the big fellow
drew his chin in his collar again, and
slept comfortably to the rocking of the
It was late at night when they arrived
at Ivaysersburg. Henry descended from
the carriage half dead with cold, and went
into the inn kitchen, where he saw the
welcome glow ot a large fire, but on enter
ing he perceived the hearth was surround
ed by a circle of travelers, among whom
he discovered Joseph and the stranger
whose seat he had taken.
The carriage furnished by the office
keeper had come by a shorter route, and
they had arrived half an hour before. Jo
seph seeing his cousin in such a bad plight,
hastened to give him his eei t. As to the
traveler, dispossessed of his place, he could
not refrain from a burst of laughter.
“Zounds!” he cried, “ I ought to thank
the gentleman tor having driven me fjoin
Hie top of the diligence, for had it not
been for his usurpation 1 would have found
myself frozen in his place instead of com
fortable in mine.”
Henry had too much the worst of it to
reply, so he took his seat before the fire
and tried to get warm. As soon as lie had
sufficiently recovered, he asked for a cham
ber and a bed. But it had been market
day at Kaysersburg that day. and the inn
wa- full of people who were to leave the
next morning. Joseph and his compan
ion, who had arrived so much earlier, had
only been able to secure one small bed,
which the former generously resigned in
favor of the latter.
But, after many questions and much
trouble, it was discovered that there was
a vacant bed in one of the chambers of the
inn, but the room was occupied by some
pecilers, wl o refused to receive a stranger
Did they engage the whole apart
ment?” asked Henry.
“Not at all, ’ replied the inn-keeper.
“Then you have a right to dispose of
the vacant bed ?”
“ What reason do they give for refusing
to have another person in the chamber ?”
“ They do not give any reason ; but they
appear to be very bad characters, and no
one cares to have a quarrel with them.”
Henry rose quickly. “That is coward
ice,” cried he. “For my part, I do not
choose to pass a sleepless night because it
suits lour unknown persons to monopolize
the beds of your inn. Show me the way
to their room. They must be made to hear
“ Take care, Henry,” said Joseph, “they
are rough, brutal men.”
“ And those vices give them the light to
make us sit up all night ?” asked Henr>,
sharply. “ No, by heaven ! I will sleep
there to-night in spite of them.”
He had taken up his hat, and was about
to follow the inn keeper, when Mr. Rosman,
who had heard the conversation between
the cousins, advanced towards them, and
said in his frank pleasant tone :
“I perceive, gentlemen, that you have
some difficulty in procuring a resting place
for the night.”
“ 1 will not be long without one,” inter
rupted Henry, trying to pass.
“One moment,” said Mr. Rosman.—
“ Those men will probably respond to your
reasoning by insi lting you, and you will
have some trouble in making them recog
nize your rights. Accept, then, a bed at
my house. I live hut a few steps from
here, and I shall be most happy to have
Henry and Joseph bowled and thanked
him, but their tones were different. Jo
seph appeared pleased and grateful, while
Henry’s manner vras constrained, though
polite. He had not forgotten that Mr.
Rosman was the cause of his poor dinner
“ You are very kind,” said he, softening
his voice, “ but I do not like to give you
so much trouble. Besides, it will be well
to give these men a lesson. They should
be taught to respect the rights of other
With these words he bowed and left the
room. Joseph, fearing some altercation,
followed him to the chamber occupied by
the peddlers, hut either the intentions of
those persons had become modified, or the
resolute air of the Marsellaise had greatly
impressed them. They confined them
selves to some low murmurs, in spite of
which Henry prepared to go to bed.
His cousin, reassured, t hen decided to go
down stairs again, and followed Mr. Ros
man, who had been good enough to wait
for him. When they arrived at the house
of the latter, they found Madam Charlotte
and Louise preparing tea before a fire of
pine-cones. Ills conductor said a few
words in a low tone to the tw o ladies, who
received the young man with courtesy,
and insisted on his taking a place at the
table, while Louise refilled the cups. As
for Madam Charlotte, she had not yet re
covered lrom the confusion caused by her
voyage; she pretended to feel in her easy
chair the jostlings of the diligence, and to
hear the noise of the wheels in the singing
ot the kettle. In spite of all this she in
quired what had become of the young
man who, at Cernay, had taken the impe
rial by assault, and so Mr. Rosman related
what had just passed at the inn.
“ Why, lie seems always on the lookout
for fights and squabbles,” cried Madam
Charlotte. “ One should run from him as
“ A better heart could not be found,”
said Mulzen. “He only wmlies to carry
out strictly his motto —* To every man his
own rights.’ ”
“And yours is ‘Charity,’ replied the
old lady, laughing. “Oh! I heard every
thing at Cernay.”
** Are you traveling together,” asked
“W 7 e are cousins,” answered Joseph,
“and we have come to K< vsersberg to be
present at the reading if a will, which will
take place to-morrow.”
“A will!” repeated Madam Charlotte,
“ That of our uncle, Doctor Harver.”
The two ladies and Mr. Rosman ex
“ And you are the Doctor's relatives,*’
said he, looking at the young man. "For
tune could hardly have directed yon bet
ter, for I was his old companion and his
This sort of recognition served to lead
the way to a conversation regarding the
dead gentleman. Mulzen had never seen
him, but he felt for him that respectful
affecion which instinct establishes be
tween the unknown members of the same
family. He spoke for a long time of the
Doctor, ami listened with lively interest to
all that they told him about his life and
Jiis dying moments ; and at last, after one
of those unre.-trained ’conversations in
which we sometimes forget ourselves, and
both see and are seen free lrom disguise,
he went to the ro m prepared for him, de
lighted with ills hosts, who were equally
well pleased. Fatigue made him sleep
heavily, and when he awoke the next
morning it was quite late. lie dressed in
haste to rejoin his cousin, with whom ho
was to go to the notary’s oflice ; bur lie
found the notary hi mself in the parlor, to