[For the Banner of the South.]
The winds are sounding a death-knell
Out on the sea to-night,
The sky is dark, and many a bark
That sailed froai harbors bright;
Like many a ship before,
Shall enter port no more,
And a wreck shall drift to some lonely shore,
Before to-morrow’s light.
The clouds are hanging a death-pall
Over the sea to-night,
The stars are veiled—and the hearts that sailed
Away from harbors bright,
Shall sob their last for their far-offhome,
And, pulseless, lie ’neath the cold, white foam,
Before the morning’s light.
The waves are weaving a death-shroud,
Out on the sea to-night;
And many a prayer is whispered there
By lips with terrors white;
But swiftly, 'mid the gloom,
The wild waves ply their loom;
God help the souls that will meet their doom
Before the dawn of light.
* * * * * * *
The winds are singing a Joy-song.
Out on the Sea to-day;
The storm is hushed, and the waves are flushed
With the gold of the Morning’s ray;
And the sleepers sleep, but beyond the deep
The eyes, that watch for the ships, shall weep
For the hearts they bore away.
Avgusta, June 26.
THE HALLS OF TARA.
BY RICHARD FAULKNER.
There is deep pathos, in the deep lines
of Thomas Moore, as lie sings, in words
that burn like diamond sparks, of the
Halls of Tara. To its sweetness and
sadness, every Irish heart must respond ;
at least, every one to which tradition has
sent down this solemn charge to “remem
ber the glories of Brian the Brave”
For it was in those very halls that the
good old king, Brian Borohme, of Muns
ter, received the homage of his bitterest
enemy, Malacbi, King' of Meath. Within
sight of Tara’s loftiest hill, two fierce
and passionate men had fought for su
preme power. Both were brave, both
ambitious ; but Brian’s genius and talent
enlisted ardent supporters, and the con
test ended in victory to him.
Under his peaceful, and gentle sway,
Ireland prospered as it never had pros
pered before. Peace and plenty were in
the land. The convents, that had been
nearly destroyed by the half-save North
ern men, as well as the strong-holds of
the country, were acquired during his
reign ; and Ireland had her palmiest days
in that period of the tenth century.
For nearly a quarter of a century, the
country was quiet beneath that gentle
sway ; but then there was thrown into it,
the root of bitterness. Two Kings—the
King of Dublin, and the King of Leins
ter—-joined together in making an incur
sion into the Kingdorit of Meath, for
predatory purposes. This unlooked for
outrage woke up the lion heart of Brian.
His son, Donough Borohme, who inherit
ed his father’s brave qualities, was
dispatched at once to Leinster, at the
head of a large force, and there seemed
no doubt that the enemy would be
Indisputably, it would have resulted
thus, had it not been for the traitorous
conduct of some of the good old King’s
own followers. Sick at heart, yet still as
brave and unflinching as ever, he rode
through the ranks, bearing aloft the sa
cred Cross, exhorting the remnant of
his soldiers to strike home for the faith.
Os all the Miltsian chiefs, none presents
a more powerful and striking picture to
the imagination, than this grav-haired old
man, calling upon his childrento fight for
the religion of the Saints. That still state
ly form, the unwithered hand clasping
the Crucifix, fixed the eyes of the little
hand, and Brian almost believed that
they could win the victory even now. He
never flagged for an instant, until the
flight shadows began to close around.
Then, spent and exhausted, some of his
old warriors assisted him to his tent, aud
he left the result to his young and va
liant soldiers, headed by his son. It was
indeed a victory ; but scaerciy had the
welcome shouts from Brian’s own troops
announced the fact, than his privacy was
invaded by a struggling party, whose leader
had sworn to avenge his defeat upon the
good old King.
For this purpose, they pursued their
wa y to his tent, where they found him
npoa his knees at prayer. The first note
of conquest had drawn away his compan
ions, and the King was left alone. Alone,
hot for the presence of a boy, scarcely
more than a little child, who had clung
to him as to a father. Even then, the
slight arms were about his neck as he
prayed, and his prayers were echoed by
as sweet a voice as ever came from hu
man lips. Alas! what availed that child
ish clasp beiore the terrors of the savage
intruders! Mounded and bleeding, Bri
nn fell beneath the furious stabs that
pierced that noble heart, in vain the
terrified boy shrieked for aid. In vain
his slight hand clasped the handle of Bri
an’s ponderous sword, as if to draw it
upon his murderers. One fell purpose
filled their revengeful breasts, and they
neither saw nor heard the puny stripling,
who dared to screen their victim from
their rage. The body fell to the ground
with a dull thud, that struck terror to the
child’s bosom. His protector, his second
father, was no more—the lion heart had
broken! At this moment of extreme pain,
and grief to the boy, Donough Borohme,
the conquerer, rushed into the tent. With
a wail that might almost have wakened
the dead, lie knelt beside the bleeding
body of his father, and his K ing. He saw
notiiing, felt nothing, but that a murder
er’s hand had stricken down the noble old
warrior, until the boy crept round and
laid His cold and trembling hand upon his
“Ivar, my darling! are you here, too?
What terrible fate led you to this scene ?
And how did you escape that savage
“I was praying beside him when they
came, and they were too mad with rage to
“0 my child! what an escape you have
had. I must take you away before they
return.” And sounding a silver bugle
that hung at his belt, his brave soldiers
soon tilled the tent.
“Look!” he exclaimed, “look here,
brave souls! and see the price of our vic
They knelt down, and each one touched
the bloody vestments of the dead, and
swore eternal hate to the murderers.
One lingered long, and gazed sadly on the
calm, white face.
“They broke the noblest heart that
ever beat, my comrades!” he said, as he
arose from his knees.
Solemn obsequies indeed, were those of
King Brian. Not a soldier in the army
that did not drop a tear over the glorious
dead; not a heart that did not sorrow
most of all, that they could see his face
no more. The flower of Erin’s chivalry
lay there withered. The purest and
grandest heart of all the Milesian chiefs
was lying low, its pulses stilled forever.
But dearly as Donough Borohme had
loved the father and his King, bitterly as
he wailed for his terrible death, there was
a balm for his griefs, a consolation for all
his sorrows, in the pure, unworldy love of
the little page, who had witnessed the
dreadful scene of King Brian’s death. He
bore him to his beautiful home without
any* suspicion on the part of the soldiers
who accompanied him, that the boy was
other than he seemed.
Once safe within the walls, the page
was never again seen ; but a gentle little
lady, who might easily have passed as his
sister, with the same Moorish tint in lip
and cheek, sat at Donough’s board, nestled
close beside him.
“Men called her angel, but lie called
Dearer by far, because she bad seen
the brave old warrior die; had prayed
all night in his father’s lonely tent; she
was the only woman lie ever loved.
The secret of her birth, and the place
where they found her secreted, was only
known to the good old King Brian, and
his son. For many years the child had
dwelt in the castle, arrayed in the dress of
a page, lest by wearing the clothes of her
sex, she might be spirited away by the
people wild bad held her in bondage, and
who might recognize her. When Brian
and Donough went to battle, she begged,
with many tears, to accomapny them ; and
the King at last consented to her going,
provided she would promise never to de
sert his camp, where lie would leave a
faithful servant in charge of her.
Here, then, the girl passed the lonely
days in tears, and prayers for those she
loved. Here, on bended knees, she suppli
cated the God of battles, all through that
dreary night, guarded by the soldier who
was never to leave her alone for a mo
ment, and who well fulfilled the trust.
And here Brian found her, when he re
turned, a conqueror, alas! for a brief
moment, in which the dark eyes had hard
ly time to recover their look of sunny
gladness, ere she saw him ruthlessly mur
dered before her agonized gaze.
Donough’s friends hoped that the sov
ereignty would be tendered to him, as
his father’s successor; but had he wished
it, there were too many whom Malachi
had won over to his side; and almost be
fore Brian's ashes were cold, his rival
re-ascended the throneof death; while Do
nough retired to his castle among the
hills of Munster, with his beautiful bride.
Brian bad named the little fondling
lyar, after one of the three famous sea
kings ; and she would not now relinquish
the name so endeared to her by remem
brance. They were married on the very
night of their return, and, from this time,
she ceased to fear the persecution of the
iocs of her childhood. Absorbed in the
low ot her husband, life became to her as
one long summer day. Simple as a cot-
■MBiiB m mi wmm.
tage girl, she could be as queenly as any
of the consorts of neighboring Kings,
when stateliness demanded it of her. She
was worthy of her high estate—worthy to
be the mother of Kings, but fate decreed
Malac-hi, King of Meath, was a brave
man ; but a King, more powerful than
himself, conquered him at last—the King
of Terrors. He died in 1022 ; and Do
nough should have succeeded him to the
Kingdom. But his right was once more
opposed. This time, Donough’s heart
was interested in the conquest, and he
fought like a lion for his right. He was
Brian Borohme’s heir—“ Brian terrible in
battle, wise in counsel,” a man who had
stood, head and shoulders above every
Irish King that had been born for cen
turies. It was the bitterness of death to
him—this defeat—for defeat came. He
grew" morbid—almost insane under the
blow. Sad and depressed, be walked
the solitary rooms of the castle, unheed
ing that Ivar sat alone in her chamber,
aw’aiting the advent of his child. She
heard the sound of his footsteps tramping
the stone floors, and shuddered to find
that even her tenderness had no balm for
his wounded spirit.
Midnight came, but the unquiet soul
kept the body restless, and still the foot
steps sounded beneath her. In that dark
hour, her child’s brief life came and went;
and its beautiful mother never saw the
light of morning upon the earth.
Fully awakened by his double loss, the
unhappy King resigned himself to despair.
He hung wildly over the beautiful remains
of the mother and child, perfectly distract
ed with grief and anguish. For days, lie
kept them from burial, and would not be
persuaded that they could not be restored
to life. At length, when decay touched
the sweet faces with its effacing finger,
he resisted no longer.
The next day after the mournful burial
he resigned his kingdom, and went out
an exile from the home of his fathers, to
wander awav in foreign lands. The heaths
of Ireland felt his springing footsteps no
more. Life was hateful to one who had
given up wife, child, and kingdom, in a
single day. Wandering thus, he chanced
to seat himself one day, near the gate of
a convent. The cool, gray walls seemed
to woo the sufferer reposing in their shad
ow. Next to death, the convent seemed
to hold a place of rest for the weary; and
he rang the convent bell, and was ad
mitted. Lonely and silent—never speak
ing to the brothers, and holding slight
communion with the head of the monas
tery, he lived years in the performance
of his duties as one of the order, yet so
mechanically that one would have said
there was no heart in that thin body—no
central fires in that dumb soul.
It was a day in summer; so bright, so
beautiful, with the blue? sky bending so
loving above, and the emerald grass lying
so quietly beneath, that earth seemed as
lovely as Heaven. A quiet graveyard it
was, where the sunshine kissed the grass,
and the shadow of tall trees lay over an
open grave. Presently there came down
the pathway from the convent, a long pro
cession of monks, bearing a bier.
Suddenly, from the little chapel, there
arose upon the summer air a chant so
sweet, yet so heart-breaking in its sweet
ness, that the very birds hushed their
mid-summer carols to listen. Nearer
and nearer “charging the deep cedars
with all mournful chords,” until the long
troop of mourners stopped beside the still
grave. The bier was lowered, and the
face of the dead gleamed up white, yet
with a Heavenly serenity, that told of in
effable grace. A solemn burial service
succeeded, and then arose a strain so
grand, so joyful, so expressive of a sub
lime hope, and triumph beyond that low
grave, that it seemed almost to be the
departing spirit upon its power ana might.
When all was over, and the procession
wound through the over-shadowed path
way, on its way back, one who stood near
asked the grave-digger whom he was in
“He was brother Adrian—God rest his
soul!” said the old monk, devoutly T cross
“Didyou know his name in the world? ”
“What matters,” rejoined the monk. “I
only know that there he lies.”
“But I know. He was a King—almost
a demigod. He was the brave son of the
Irish king, the good Brian Borohme
Father and son—both murdered. Truly
may you say, “God rest that tempest
tossed, world-tried soul.”
Another spadeful of earth, and the
face of Donough Borohme was hidden
from the light of day ; but we know that
in the Heavenly kingdom, its likeness is
shining in the Archangel’s face, with a
light that shall not grow dim through all
cternity r .
A kiss has been defined as a flower
that blossoms all the year round, and
whose sweetness depends upon its gratui
At the residence of the bride’s father, in this Citron
Thursday, June 25th, 1868. by the Rev. Mr. Patillo, F.
R. Gilbert, Esq., of Stamford, New York, aud Miss
Josephine V. Crockeii, daughter of Joim L. and Eliza"
betli Crocker, of Augusta, Ga.
New York papers please copy.
At the Catholic Church, in this City, on Sunday,
June 28th, 1868, by the Rev. J. F. Kirby, Daniel C.
Murphy, and Miss Kate R. Vaugiian, all of this city.
One by one the good and the true men pass away,
but the memories of their virtues remain. On the 4th
of June, at the advanced age of 82, in the City of Au
gusta, MR. BENJAMIN PICQUET passed from this to
a better life. A native of Rennes, France, he came to
this country during the French Revolution, at the
close of the last century. From Charleston, where
he landed, he removed to Washington, Wilkes co., and
there resided until 1800, when he removed to this city,
where, up to the day of his death, with a a few inter
vals of absence, he resided. He was once here a dis
tingViished merchant, and ever enjoyed a high and well
deserved reputation. His was an integrity rare and
above reproach. Quiet in manners, full of charity—a
pure and devoted Christian, he won the respect of all,
the love of many—the hatred of none. An angelic in
fant, JOSEPH, sou of Mr. and Mrs. H. W. Carr, and
dearly beloved by the aged man, preceded him, by
only a few days, to the brighter world; and another
angelic child, CECILIA, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. A.
D. Picquet, followed him not many days after.
Crowned with the virtues of his 82 years—strengthen
ed by the Sacraments of his Mother Church—perfectly
resigued, with the light of a Catholic’s hope on his
face, he quietly passed away, leaving an affectionate
wife, two devoted daughters, two sons, and a brother,
and many dear friends to weep aud to mourn his
passing away, to imitate his virtues, and to treasure
his memory. May he rest in peace.
AID VER TISEM ENTS.
Advertisements forwarded to all Newspapers.
No advance charged on Publishers’ prices.
All leading Newspapers kept on file.
Information as to Cost of Advertising furnished.
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Inquiries by Mail answered promptly.
Complete Printed Lists of Newspapers for sale.
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Advertisements Written and Notices secured.
Orders from Easiness Men especially solicited.
NEW SPRING- DRY GOODS.
James A. ©ray <k Cos.,
228 BROAD STREET, AUGUSTA, GEO.,
Bog to inform the public that they are now receiving
THE LARGEST SPRING STOCK OF
STaPJOE FANCY DRY CiOOXJS
Which have been received at this Establishment
for the past twenty years.
These Goods have been purchased EXCLUSIVELY
FOR CASH from the most eminent Importers of the
United States, from the Manufacturers’ Agents direct,
and in large quantities from the recent celebrated
Auction Sales ordered by Messrs. Beukard & Hutton,
one of the very largest Importing Houses in New York
Having full access to the very best Houses in the
world, and purchasing side by side with the largest
Jobbers in the United States, we can confidently and
truthfully assure our friends that WE CAN SUPPLY
THEIR DEMANDS FOR DRY GOODS, EITHER AT
WHOLESALE OR RETAIL, AS CHEAP AS THEY
CAN PURCHASE THE SAME IN NEW YORK.
Merchants visiting the city, will please make a note
of this fact, examine our assortment, and judge for
themselves. We would respectfully invite the closest
examination of both style® and price.
JAMES A. GRAY k CO.,
apll 228 Broad Street.
J. J. BROWNE,
GILDER AND PICTURE FRAME MANUFACTURER,
135 Broad Street, Augusta, Ga.
Old natures and Looking-Glass Frames Regilt. Oil
Paintings Restored, Lined and Varnished.
THE OLD AND KELLABLE HOUSE OF
GRAY & TURLEY,
Is always prepared to offer to the public, at wholesale
and retail, a thoroughly complete assortment of
British French and Swiss Dress floods^
CLOTHS, CASSIMERES, CLOAKS, SHAWLS,
HOSIERY, nOOP SKIRTS, NOTIONS, Ac., kc.
O’Dewd & ftXulherin,
GROCERS AND COMMISSION MERCHANTS,
No. 283 Broad Street,
HAVE ON HAND A FULL STOCK OF
AND EVERY THING
Usually kept in a Wholesale and Retail Grocery.
PRICES AS LOW AS TIIE LOWEST.
Kenny & Gray,
ISo. 238 Broad Street,
CASSIMERES AND VESTINGS,
GENTS’ FURNISHING GOODS OF ALL KINDS,
And everything usually kept in a
First-Class Clothing and Tailoring Establishment.
An examination of their splendid stock is cor
Augusta, March 21, 1868. ts
STEEL AMALGAM BELLS.
Every School and Plantation should have one. Will
sell those now on hand cheap. Those desiring to
purchase will do well to call soon.
Price, complete, from $7 to £lO.
Augusta Foundry and Machine Works.
1868 ‘ * my3o—tf
MACFI IN K WOR KS.
WRIGHT k ALLUM’S
IMPROVED COTTON SCREWS,
GIN GEAR, SUGAR BOILERS, SUGAR MILLS,
[GUDGEONS, ALARM BELLS,
AND ALL KINDS OF CASTINGS,
DONE AT SHORT NOTICE.
HIGHEST PRICE PAID FOR OI.D MACHINERY
IRON, BRASS AND COPI ER.
AGENTS WANTED FOR THE
fLIFE OF JEFFERSON DAVIS,
By FRANK 11. ALFRIEND, of Richmond.
This is the only full, authentic and OFFICIAL
history of the Life aud Public services of the great
Southern leader. Mr. Alfriend lias had the co-opera
tion and assistance of the leading Confederate officials
in the preparation of this work, as will bo apparent to
all on examination. Send for specimen pages and cir
culars, with terms. Address NATIONAL PUBLISH
ING 00., Atlanta, Ga. my9—G
GREENBRIER WHITE SULPHUR
Greenbrier County, West Virginia.
The undersigned, Lessees of tins
OLD and WF.LL KNOWN WATERING I RACE,
Announce that, encouraged by the liberal patronage
received last season, they have largely add* and to tin i;
accommodations, in comfort and appearance,
and are prepared to entertain
FIFTEEN HUNDRED GUESTS.
TII E BA T 111 N G A C COMMODATIONS
ARE IN FINE ORDER.
HOT AND WARM SULPHUR BATHS,
So eminently efficacious in many cases, are at the
command of visitors, at all hours.
In addition to other amusements, they have provided
anew and elegant
BOWLING ALLEY AND BILLIARD ROOM,
PROFESSOR ROSENBERG’S CELEBRATED FULL
Has been engaged for the season
A GOOD LIVERY STABLE
YTII be kept on the premises.
The completion of the Virginia Central Railroad to
Covington leaves only twenty miles staging, through a
beautiful mountain country over a well graded turn
T©nns" $3 per Day and SBQ per fyiorrth.
Children under ten years of age, and colored ser
vants, half price. White servants according to accom
modations. [mylC-lml PEYTON & CO.