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O F" .;. T H
EEY. A. J. RYAN, Editor-
AUGUSTA, GA., MAY 30,1868.
THE DANGER OF THE REPUBLIC.
The great danger of the Republic is
its corruption. When men lose all re
spect for honor and justice —when women
lose all respect, for modesty and virtue —
then, indeed, is the Republic in danger.
In walls are cracked and tottering, its
foundations are weak and shaking. Re
inoralization, terrible and appalling, has
followed the war, and society, in some
parts of the country, at least, is shaken
to its very centre. What must be the
inevitable result ! The Republic must
fall, and anarchy brood, vulture like’
above its unhappy ruins. What is the
remedy ? Vice must be dethroned ; vir
tue must resume its sway ; we must give
God his place. In fine, we must go back
to the early days of the country, when a
Washington and a Carroll, bright exam
plars that they were, shed their happy in
tiuence around them, and gave honor
and character to their native land. We
must go back to the practises of those
early days, when virtue and justice
were honored and practised; when the
corruptions of politics, and the corrup
tions of fashion, and the corruptions of
society generally, held no sway over the
land, no place m the affections of the peo
ple. We must go back to those days
when the American flag was the emblem
of a glorious land, a virtuous people, and
an honest Government— not, as it is now,
the ensign of tyranny, oppression and
corruption. Then indeed, was this
“Tlie land of the free and the home of the brave—”
the home of the patriot, the statesman,
and the sage, and well might its people
be proud of the glorious title of “Ameri
citizen.” But, unhappily, the evil days
have come, the saddest of our history ;
and corruption rules in the high places,
while Tyranny crushes the life-blood out
one portion of our unhappy country.
Is this the destiny of that mighty Na
tion, whose meteor flag once so proudly
waved in every quarter of the habitable
globe, but now droops dishonored and
contemned, wherever Freedom and love
for Right hold sway? Forbid it, Heaven!
and grant that an awakening sense of
patriotism and justice will bring back the
happy days of yore, and make the Repub
lic, what it once was, the pride and the
boast of its people !
Without virtue, without honesty,
without justice, Republicanism cannot
exist.
FLOWERS.
Well may the poet sing the beauties of
Nature, the artist paint her glories, and
the sculptor snatch from the cold marble
her fairest outlines. There is, indeed, so
much to admire, so much to praise, so
much to be thankful for in this world of
ours. Its grand scenery, its towering
mountains, its mighty cataracts, its pic
turesque vales—its sweet scented and
beautiful flowers. And yet we make it,
by our own folly, a vale of tears. Yes,
“Man’s inhumanity to man makes count
ies millions mourn;” and the very beau
ties and glories which surround us are
made to minister to our evil passions,
to our misery.
In every age and every land love
ior flowers exists. In eastern lands they
ialk iu flowers ; they tell their loves and
sorrows in flowers, and in each bud and
blossom blooms a mystic language. So
too, in our land, and in our day, they have
their mute, but sweet significances. They
decorate' the nail o: joy and enliven the
scene oi revelry; they grace the fair
form of the sweet young bride ; They
ornament the peaceful little cottage:
they soothe the captive’s cell ; tiny speak
the language or’ affection; they g>ve
pleasure to the eye ; they soften the
heart ; they strew the bier, the tomb, the
grave, and lie, so sweetly, so gently there,
emblems of love, esteem and honor, for
the dear ones sleeping in ifce dust. The
modest Violet, the constant Sun-flower, the
Queenly Rose, and all their lovely at
tendants are the companions and the
friends as it were of “God’s last best gilt
to man.” They are her solace and her
pleasure ; and where she, is flowers grow
up and brighten, by their presence, happy
homes.
Let us cultivate the flowers. Let us
in ike our homes boautiiul. Lot us make
tli* m cheerful. As Mary Ilowitt so
sweetly says :
“Orod might have bade the earth bring forth
Enough for great and small,
The oak tree and the cedar tree,
Without a flower at all.
He might have made enough, enough
For every want of ours,
For luxury, medicine, and toil,
And yet have made no flowers.
Our outward life requires them not—
Then wherefore have they birth.
To minitser delight to man.
To beautify the earth;
To comfort man, to whisper hope.
Where’er his faith is dim;
For whoso caretli for the flowers,
Will much more care for Him !"
MAKE HOME ATTRACTIVE.
“Home is the sphere of harmony and peace,
The spot where angels find a resting place
When, bearing blessings, they descend to earth.”
There are few words in the English
language more beautifully significant than
the word “Home.” It is the poet’s theme
and the painter’s subject. “Home, sweet
Home,” is, or ought to be, the syn
onym of a happy abode. Around it
ought to cling affection’s sweetest memo
ries, and Hope’s choicest anticipations
But, alas 1 how few really happy Homes
there are in this little world of ours. llow
few there are who strive to make Home
the most desirable place in the world 1 A
Home on earth is, or ought to be, the
symbol of that happy Home in the great
Hereafter, where the Heavenly Father
gives perfect and eternal happiness to
those faithful children who dwell with him
there. It ought to be, too, like the Oasis
in the Desert—the green spot to which
the weary traveller over Life’s burning
sands can look back with affectionate re
gret, or forward to with Joyous hope. Yes,
we should all make Home happy, beauti
ful desirable—
“ Nor need we power or splendor—
Wide Trail, or lordly dome,
The good the true, the tender—
These form the wealth of home.”
But, alas! how we err in this regard !
How very many of those who, forsaking
the path of religion and truth, hill by the
wayside, owe their misfortune and misery
to the neglect of parents to make Home
the most beautiful, the most desirable of
places! Here there are sour looks and
cross words; there a child sent into the
streets, or anywhere, to keep it from dis
turbing its fond parents. Here there is
no pleasant company, no music, no good
books ; there there are no toys, no at
tractions to make Home loveable. Here
there is no religion, no morality ; there
there is opprobrious and improper lan
guage. In short, there is nothing to
make Home attractive and desirable ;
and so the poor children go into the streets
and the by-ways, in search of recreation
and pleasure, and are lost to God and to
their country. They turn their backs
upon the bleak homes, and upou all that
is good, and go forth into the world im
moral people and bad citizens.
Oh, then, what a responsibity rests upon
parents and guardians! What a duty
is incumbent upon them to make home
happy! Give your children good and
beautiful books to read, give them toys
and tools to play with, give them little
parlor entertainments of magic lanterns
or steroscopic views, give them music, en
courage a taste for it in them, adorn your
walls with chaste and elegant pictures,
plant beautiful flowers around your dwell
ings, and, above all, be kind and gentle to
all “ihe loved ones at home.” If cares
and troubles annoy you, keep your
sadness for your private chamber.
Hide your grief away from your fami
lies. Be free and kindly familiar with
©i sifliS
your children. Converse with them on
subjects that will interest and instruct
them. Be forbearing with them, and,
while rigid in requiring them to do right,
be patient with them when they err, and
chide them in the spirit of love and
kindness rather than in the spirit of
anger and revea : And thus you will
make home attractive, you will make it
pleasant, you will make it happy. The
atmosphere of love and religion which
you have engendered there will wrap
itself around the little ones, and keep
them from error and
cease to long for the company of the
vicious, or sigh fur forbidden ; ‘ensures ;
and when they go forth into the world to
light, ihe great Battle of L ie, they will be
clothed with the impenetrable armor j
which their happy home has thrown j
around them, while its sweet attractions
will shine about them like a beacon
light on a rock-bound coast, warning;
them of the dangers which surround!
them, and lighting them on to that
happiest of Homes, where all is Love,!
Goodness, and Bliss. And so yon will)
be able to say, as Mrs. Hale sweetly’
sings :
“My son, thou wilt dream the world is fair,
And thy spirit will sigh to roam,
And thou must go; but never when there
Forget the light of home.”
[Special Correspondence of tho Banner of the South.] I
MEMORIAL DAY.
MEMORIAL DAY IN CHARLESTON.
The lOth of May is the day set apart by j
the Ladies’ Memorial Association of this!
city, to decorate tho graves of the Con"
federate Dead, but the 10th falling on
Sunday this year, the ceremony was per
formed on the 9th, at Magnolia Ceme
tery, where repose six hundred “martyrs
to a fallen cause.” Long before the ap
pointed time, thousands were seen wend
ing their way to the Cemetery—most of
them bearing wreaths and crosses. The
day was lovely, with just sufficient clouds
to temper the rays of the sun. Heaven
seemed to smile on this most touching
ceremony. The foliage of the trees
whose waving branches shield the last
resting place of our honored dead from
the rude winds, presented a most brilliant
appearance ; and the sweet caroling of
the feathered songsters was in unison
with the solemnity of the scene.
There were but few present who uid
not mourn some relative who fell “on the
Held of battle gory.” One mother rapid
ly approaching the verge of eternity,
wept for her brave boy, who, at the break
ing out of the war, bid adieu to home and
all its endearing associations, to join the
army in Virginia. Reminiscences of
“things that were” rise up in her troubled
brain; she remembers the day of his
departure, and the reluctance with which
she let him go —the cause alone consoling
her. We hear a great deal of Spartan
courage; it was commendable, but not
more so than the heroism of this brave
boy, who returned “on his shield” from
the luckless field of Gettysburg.
An aged and feeble father knelt at the
grave of his only son, refreshing the thirst
ing earth with his tears. This youth
joined the Army of the West, and
followed its varying fortunes until
severely wounded in the sanguinary
struggle which swept from the galaxy of
that army such stars as Cleburne, Adams,
Stahl, Gist, and Granbury, and which
struck the key note to the dirge of our
reverses.
After a prayer, and the singing of a
hymn composed for the occasion, the
Ladies’ Memorial Association (to whose
patriotic zeal we owe the handsome ap
pearance of the lot, they having had it
enclosed with a beautiful hedge of ever
greens, and each grave marked with a
small marble head-stone, with the name of
the deceased, his company and regiment,
inscribed thereon,) commenced the task
of decorating the graves, by placing upon
each one of them a wreath and cross
Among the tenants of this habitation of
the dead are a number from Georgia,
whose heroic achievements gave additional
eclat to the siege of Charleston, and as
sisted in making Secessionville, Battery
Wagner, and Sumter, what they are—
monuments of Carelina’s valor.
There are many soldiers buried out
side of what is known as the “Confederate
lot”—such gallant spirits as Captain
Boag, Shubrick, Hayne, Alfred Pinckney,
Patrick Ifalleran, Samuel Wigg, Edwin
Du Bose, Captain John Mitchell, and many
others. Their graves were well cared for—
relatives and friends decorated them.
There were none to lay a floral offering
on Captain Mitchell's grave, but the
fairest of Carolina’s daughters strewed
wreaths of roses and immortelles, over
the last resting place of this noble son of
a noble sire, whose chivalric courage and
heroic death stamped him as one of the
noblest heroes of ihe “Lost Cause.” His
memory is as verdant in the hears of our
people, as are the green hills and valleys
of his native land.
Among the dead in St. Lawrence
(Catholic) Cemetery, arc two who deserve
more than passing notice. Capt. William
11. Ryan fell at the head of his company
(Irish Volunteers,) in a counterattack on
the enemy at Battery Wagner. “He
charged unto the front, and foremost fiflht
iniT fell ” Ask any member of the 1L In
O *
Regiment, S. C. \ , who Captain Ryan
was ? you will be. told that he was one of
the bravest of the brave. Young, gifted,
handsome, he displayed the most sublime
courage, and, like his worthy Brother, D. J.
Ryan, killed at Gettysburg, the same
week, offered up his life as a holocaust
on the altar of his country. Lawrence
.Burns, died from disease contracted while j
with his regiment (“sth S. C. A ~) around j
Petersburg, The commencement of hos
tilities found him a mere youth, but, when
his State required the services of her sons,
he rallied to her rescue. Lis youth and
delicate frame sank under the ardor of
his patriotism. He remembered the reply
of the Spartan mother to her son, when
lie complained of his sword being too
short: “ Add a step to it.” Unflinching
resolution imparted strength, and in camp,
on the tiresome march, in the cheerless
bivouac, and in battle, he was a most
exemplary soldier. The fortitude and
valor he displayed was grand, but the
weary marches and bloody engagements,
during the memorable campaign of 1864,
so greatly impaired Lis constitution
(always feeble,) that lie was sent home. I
remember having met him just after his
return, and shall never forget his anxiety
to rejoin his regiment, though you could
trace death in every lineament of his
face, lie ended life’s pilgrimage ere it
had hardly commenced. His parents
and friends had the melancholy satisfac
tion of seeing him v ield up his young
spirit. His last earthly gaze rested on
the lace of his affectionate father, his fond
mother and loving sister.
On leaving the Cemetery, 1 met a
mother who did not have the consolation
of decorating the grave of her “ beautiful
and brave” boy ; though none in this
vast legion of honor is more entitled to a
wreath of immortelles than Sergt. John
Menude, of the 27th S. C. Y., who died
in one of the dreary chambers of a prison
hospital, from the effects of wounds re
ceived in Virginia. Father Ryan’s touch
ing lines beautifully describe this gallant
boy:
“ Young as the youngest that donned the grey;
True ub the truest that wore it;
Brave as the bravest that marched away ,
(Hot tears on the cheek of his mother lay.)
Triumphant waved our flag one day,
He fell in the front before it.”
Survivor.
IN JACKSON, TENX.
A lady friend writes to us from Jackson,
Tenn., under date of May 13th, and says :
Dear Sir: I read, with pleasure, an
extract from your excellent paper, cen
suring the fathers, brothers, and sons, of
the South for their lately acquired piety,
and total forgetfulness of the fact that
thousands of our martyred braves fell on
Sunday.
Your remarks did not apply to us. The
citizens of our little city turned out en
masse on the 26th inst, and decorated
the graves of our dear dead who were
known to us, and of the strangers who
were so unfortunate as to fall in our midst.
Also, on the 10th of this month, we as
sembled at the Cemetery, and after an
eloquent and appropriate address by Rev.
Egbert Osborne, we decorated with May’s
fairest flowers, a cenotaph erected to the
memory of the Dead of our county.”
[From the Pf-t< raburg Express-;.]
MEMORIAL DAY IN PETERSBURG
The following was crowded out of ~m .
last issue, owing to the pressure on on r
columns:
Mr. Editor At your request f f ur .
nisli you with some additional items for
your columns, not so much for cu ■ own
people,'who had the opportunity tu wit
ness the touching scene ot the 10 rh, when
the graves ot seven hundred d< ad wf*rc*
fragrant with the incense of fl iwers,
heaped upon them by loving friends,
but for distant friends I writ- The.*
floral tribute was generous, was Lviff.
and although many of <ur ov-» bmp.,
contributed, some of thorn lav<*(>jy (
< were it m-t invidious 1 worth! nauii*
them,) yet tli* * greater parr esp- cial:v
the rare flowers, was the wff ! ->•mb s
contribution of distant friends. T » Mrs.
Gem Matt. Ransom, Miss Persons. Mrs.
Moody, of Halifax, the ladles of ! ; rnt
ville, through Mrs. Hilliard, of
Danville, through Mrs. Holland, Mrs.
Bracken Wilson, and Mrs. Col mm! Chain
bless, of Greenville, and our friends in
Enfield, N. 0.. in the name of many be
reaved Southern hearts, would re I urn our
most grateful thanks. V e must ask Jor
giveness of our dear co-laborers tor
quoting from Utters responding to our
own. One says : “It is with inexpressi
ble pleasure, 1 respond to your appeal in
behalf of our fallen b roes. As the wife
of a soldier, 1 can surely appreciate the
feelin<rs with which a sorrowing wkLw
would cover the grave ot her loved one
with the sweet flowers of Spring, and I
have only to look at my boys to under
stand the sweet consolation it must be to
the bereaved mother or sister, to deck -he
young heroes’ graves with ail that is
bright and beautiful. And this is all we
can do to immortalize their memory. '
Another writes : “Do not think from
the limited supply of flowers that we
send, that love for cur dead is on the
wane with us ; such is not the ease, and
Was the supply at all commensurate will;
our affection, not one of the hallowed
mounds, where sleep our 1 raves, shuiiM
be left undecorated. * * *”
Though small the offering, the- 1. arts
that offer it, are warm and true, cli -ri !;-
ingthe memory of each fallen Confederate
with fondest affection, and ready and
willing to do all in their power to aid in
such labors of love. The following touch
ing address will speak for itself :
“To the ladies of the Memorial Asso
ciation of the City of Petersburg, this
humble offering is contributed by four
ladies, two gentlemen, and two children,
of Enfield, N. C. Had the notice of the
acceptability or need of flowers reach and
ns sooner, this contribution would have
been much larger. The profound sym
pathy of our hearts is with you in your
sacred celebration. The leaves and fiov/em
which you strew, like all earthly thing-,
will fader but in our hearts, as in your;-,
the memory of our precious dead will
ever be sweet and fadeless.''
This accompanied a large ba>ket of th
choicest flowers, most tastily arranged into
bouquets. We ask for the names of our
kind friends. A servant woman walked
four miles to bring us a basket of How : -
the contribution of a lady from Philadel
phia, now residing in Chesterfield, w.i ,
this note :
“Mrs. M, whose gallant m ph •
were stationed around Petersburg, and
fell in defence of their country, pr< -ants
this floral contribution to the ladies of the
Memorial Association of Petersburg.
A sorrowing mother of Charles, n.
who had visited us in the vain search ior
the grave of her son, thus writes :
“On last Saturday, the 9th, the graves
of our Confederate dead, buried in Mag
nolia Cemetery, were decorated. It
brought to mind the distant, lonely, and
unknown grave of my darling child. My
heart is too full for utterance.”
A week previous the grave of an “i o
known,” had been selected ben< ath ae
shade of two cedars, turfed and adopted
for his, with the resolve, that the -d
should be kept green upon ir, and the
best flowers of spring should memorialize
that mother's tender, sacred love.
Will our dear friends, who have tliu.-
aided us, accept this as an ackimwledg
! merit of their hearty sympathy and co
operation ? Would that we had leisure
to return special thanks. For the so filing
ot the graves, and the neat ujq > araine
ot the grounds, we are, as usuai, dak ■-
! ed to our indefatigable friend, Mr. V. -■
ward Spottswood, aided by Mr. Jas Lee:
to both of the Express Compauk s, ffr
multiplied favors; to Mo. J. T. Morris
for transportation and a had.: to oui
ever kind railroad officials; to ourciu
editors and printers; and lust, ik u_ •
nut least, to our gifted citizen, Mr Gen
I H. Venable, for his touching and i nano
| ful poem; to one, to all, who in any v. ;
| aided our holy cause, we, as the • ouum
j tee of Bethel Cemetery, return our hear
I felt thanks. Mrs. J M. Wy< h:
Mrs. G. Harris,
! Mrs. F. Battk.