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ho is, has taken on himself the duty of
supporting his mother. He has promised
never to forsake her as long as she lives.
Now, how old is his mother? Fifty
years, at best. She is in good health,
thank God ! she may yet live twenty,
thirty years, perhaps longer. He hopes
that, she may, the fine fellow! and he
tllinks, no doubt, that, after her death, he
will be too old to marry; that is the
reason he has at once taken this stand.
And it is meritorious in him, but that
does not make it a—”
“Pardon, master!” said the young
man. interrupting him, gently; “youmust
not give me more credit than I deserve.
In supporting my mother, I only do as
many others, who make no boast of it,
because there is really nothing strange
in it. If I married, I would take care she
was not deserted. I know many of my
condition, who have wives and children,
whose mothers have not been made beg
gars in consequence. If you wish to
know the truth, 1 will tell you. No
thought of my mother has prompted my
resolution; none whatsoever.”
“Then give me your reason,” angrily
demanded Xavier, who could not but be
irritated under such a succession of an
noyances.
“The reason—ah, the reason,” said the
young man, with an embarrassed air.
trying in vain to smile ; “the reason, good
master. Bon Dieu !it is just an idea of
mine. Voila /”
“Eh! it is, indeed, an idea that you
have,” vehemently exclaimed Xavier;
“Luc, too, has his idea , who can only say
thaf marriage is worth nothing. Margaret
has her idea } she who pretends to honor
marriage, yet always finds some loop-hole
for getting away from it. An idea ! an
idea ! but what is the idea ? Let me see,
at least, if it be foolish or reasonable.
Come, speak ! will you speak?”
“Yes, I will speak, master,” gently
replied Etienne, who seemed to become
calm in proportion to Xavier’s excitement;
“but it will only be to say that I am sure
there are many affairs of your own you
would not explain to me should I ask you.
Now, you must kuow, that every one has
some little secret of his own, also, to
keep.”
Xavier here rose up, gesticulating
violently,
“jEVi, man Dieu ! keep your secret,
then, since you have one. I care nothing
for your secret! no more than Ido for
my old slippers!”
“Oh, do not be angry, master; I do
not wish to displease you. I cannot tell
a lie, and then—”
“And then, and then,” said Xavier,
becoming more and more excited, the
good man being no longer master of him
self; “and then—one may truly say that
you are all leagued together, like a set of
thieves at a Fair, to thwart me, and make
me almost curse myself! You are well
matched! all three of you! do you hear ?
Go to the devil, all of you together, you
and your ideas ! Bon voyaye ! I wish
you well ! Take care of yourselves!”
And he dragged his cap down over his
eyes, thrust his fists into his capacious
pockets, and turned towards a stair-case
that was near the dresser. Passing near
Margaret, who had just put down her dis
taff, he found himself suddenly stopped
by a pair of plump arms, firmly clasped
about his neck.
“Good-night! wicked grand-papa !”
“Let me alone.”
But he did not resist as strongly as he
might.
“But when I tell you that it may be
sooner than you think.”
As she seemed to be in earnest now, and
ho was so near her, he begun to look
searchingly into her face. But she burst
into a merry laugh in the midst of this
grave examination.
Then he took the pretty, saucy head
between his two great loving hands,
shook it well, kissed the forehead, and
gently put it from him, saying, in a sin
gularly touching voice:
“Ah! if you would but for once be
truly good to your old grandpapa!” and he
reached the steps which he slowly de
scended.
The little bell of the mill hopper rung,
but before answering the summons, Luc,
who had risen, held out his hand to Mar
garet, saying, with an accent, marked
with peculiar sweetness :
“My beautiful darling !”
(This term of admiration, though not
very concise for him, frequently fell from
Luc’s otherwise parsimonious lips ; who,
seeming to forget, in this instance, his
usual economy of words, wished instinct
ively to evince the importance attached
by him to his affection for the young
girl.
“Good-night, my friend,” said Mar
garet, who sweetly offered her forehead
for the long kiss, which Luc pressed there
with a look of beatitude.
Seeing that she stopped near the door,
where he was just going out, the youDg
man paused.
“Have you any resentment, Etienne ?”
“Resentment?”
“Yes, for the rebuff I drew on you just
now.”
“Oh!” began Etienne, with strange
emotion ; but he restrained himself, and
immediately continued, in a more meas
ured tone: “oh, no, no resentment; good
night, Madainoiselle.”
“Good-night, Etienne.”
Etienne went out, and Margaret, who
looked after him, smiled, evidently well
pleased with her own thoughts.
[to be continued.]
[From the Nashville Banner.]
“ONLY A WOMAN’S HEART-”
THE SADDEST STORY OF THE CRUELEST OF
WARS.
The most startling and tragic occur
rence of the late war, not even excepting
the wholesale slaughters of human beings
in battle, was the killing of General Van
Dorn, of the Cavalry Department, in the
Confederate Army, by Dr. Peters, at one
time a Senator in the Tennessee Legis
lature. The tragedy occurred at Spring
Hill, a short time previous to the 'battle
of Murfreesboro’. The sad details of that
affair, and circumstances which led to it,
are too familiar to our readers to render
repetition of them necessary here. The
recollection of the sad story is revived
by a paragraph going the rounds of the
press to the effect that a daughter of Dr.
Peters, young, accomplished and beauti
ful, had arrived in St. Louis where she
was about to enter a convent and take
the veil. The St. Louis Times , of the
21st, alluding to her arrival in that city
and the contemplated devotion of herself
to the Church, says, feelingly, that “every
calamity that war may beget has befallen
her family, kindred, fortune, and home.
The residence in which she dwelt from
childhood, was in the path of a destroy
ing army that swept wide districts with
unsparing desolation. Every species of I
property was destroyed, and she and an
only brother, beggared, and fated to en
counter even greater calamities, wander
ing among strangers. The mother, a
weaker woman than the daughter, ac
customed to case, flattery, and every
pleasure that wealth could buy, yielded,
never criminally, to the llattery of an
army officer, and overstepped rules of de
corum prescribed by the social habits of
the South. The father wreaked terrible
vengeance upon him who destroyed the
delights of his poverty-stricken home, and
while the people approved the deed,
there was bitterness insufferable in the
cup of grief pressed to the lips of the
faultless daughter. The brother bore ac
cumulated misfortunes, unsustained by
that divine faith which never fails to give
consolation and strength, ilis sorrows
made him insane, and in moody madness
he dragged out a miserable existence.
Life at length became insufferable, and in
an evil hour he put a period to his exist
ence. The sister lived to soothe a
father’s sorrows and lighten anguish that
almost dethroned his reason. She was
divinely inspired. Her soft, sweet voice
never lost its tenderness, and its very
tones were silveay with hope that beamed
from her lustrous eyes. She was a di
vinity to guard him in midst of adversity—
“ Bright as that, oh! too transeendant, vision,
When heart meets heart in dreams Elysian ;
Sweet as the memory of buried love,
Pure as the prayer that childhood wafts above.”
Time sped. The father’s grief became
a fixed melancholy, and the Church his
resource. The daughter, who reached
St. Louis a few days since from a South
ern city, has sought repose in the bosom
of the holy Catholic Church. During
the week she will assume vow t s of a sister
hood famed the world over for those
charities which this daughter of the South
has learned so well to practice within
the precincts of her own unfortunate
household. We are induced to write this
simple recital of her misfortunes that a
sad chapter of personal history—an epi
sode in that mighty volume of human
woes to which the war gave origin—
might find a place in the memories of
men and be conned over by the good, and
brave, and true w T omen of the land.
London is never tired of admiring its
own vastness and wealth, its population,
greater than that of many kingdoms ; its
trade, larger than that of India; the an
nual addition of anew city to its extent
and resources. It is well before the next
hymn is sung to Mammon and his glory
to remember this little fact. The num
ber of London paupers relieved by. legal
alms on the last day of February in this
vear was 156,650. Add the professional
beggars, the tramps, and the people who
do not beg but remain dinnerless, and
we shall find that London contains a
population as great as that of Leeds with
nothing to eat. The social cohesion must
be strong which stands that strain.
[Spectator.
Joy in Grief.
FROM THE FRENCH OF MARIE JENNA.
“Blessed are they that mourn ; for they shall be comforted.”
Friend! in vain thy bosom hides the sharp and cruel
sword that wounds it,
I have understood thy silence, and my prayer hath
still been for thee;
Cast away the foolish pride that shuts my heart against
my friendship;
Come, and weep before me.
Well I know ; at there are days of heavy grief and
lonely sneering,
When the sou! doth find in solitude a grim and bitter
pleasure;
And the thoughtless world beholds its shrouded
majesty p.ss by it,
PaU and wrapped in silence.
Then the frier, uy hand, uncertain, 6tops and hesitates
before it,
Fearing lest too rudely It may draw aside the veil of
mourning;
There are griefs so great and sacred that all human
thought and language
Dies upon the threshold.
Now, however, days arc past; and it is time I came
and sought thee;
Oh! permit a friend to share the hoavy burden of thy
sorrow;
Put thy hand in mine, thy weary head upon my heart,
and rest thee;
I have suffered, also.
I will not approach tlieo with those vain and heartless
words of fashion,
Words which grief receives aud spurns as mocking
echoes of its wailing;
No, I have a word to whisper that will bring a holy
comfort—
’Tis a heavenly secret.
If I might, as from an urn, before thy feet pour ©ut my
treasures,
Hope and peace would fill thy soul, now groping in
despairing darkness.
Light would shino upon thy pathway, sweet repose
would mark thy slumbers,
Dreams of happy moments.
There are pure and lofty summits where the soul of
man reposes;
’Tis the sword which cleaves our hearts assunder,
opens up the pathway;
Friend of mine, believe me, that the loss of all things
counts as nothing,
If those heights be mastered.
Silly bees, wc flit from flower to flower in this world’s
pleasure-garden,
Drinking in their rich perfumes, and tasting of their
honeyed sweetuoss;
Resting there, and living on its passing charms as if
its beauty
Were enough for ever.
There we dream away our life, and precious moments
pass unheeded;
Placing all our joys in pleasures fleeting as the
Summer sunshine,
Joys that vanish when the evening casts its shadows
o’er the garden;
Gone before the moonlight.
’Tis when robbed of human love; when seated desolate
and lonely
On the wide and arid desert, with no kindly eye to
greet us;
When the howling tempest rages, and the frightful
darkness thickens,
Comfort has a meaning.
Then the brow defeat has humbled, and the heart
grown sick with sorrow,
Find an arm and hand divine to lean upon and bear
its burden;
And the spirit wrung with anguish, crushed by cruel
disappointment,
Sings a hymn unspoken.
When, before the lost one’s footsteps, opens an abyss
of horror,
Then appears a bridge of safety stretching o’er the
gulf’s dark passage;
There, where danger threatens most, aud death
menaces, God is standing
Tell Your Mother.— l wonder how
many young ladies tell their mother every
thing ? Not those “ young ladies,” who,
going to and from school, smile, bow,
and exchange notes and cartes de visite
with young men who make fun of them
and their pictures, speaking in a way
that would make their cheeks burn with
shame if they heard it. All this, most
credulent and romantic young ladies, they
will do, although they gaze at your fresh
young faces admiringly, and send or give
you charming verses or bouquets. No
matter what “ other girls do,” don’t you
doit. School-girl flirtations may end
disastrously, as many a foolish, wretched
young girl could tell you. Your yearn
ing for someone to love is a great need
of every woman’s heart. But there is a
time for everything. Don’t let the bloom
and freshness of your heart be washed
off in silly flirtations. Render yourself
truly intelligent. And, above all, tell
your mother everything. Never be
ashamed to tell her. who should be your
best friend and confidant, all you think
and feel. It is very strange that so many
young girls will tell every person before
“ mother,” that which is most important
that she should know. It is very sad
that indifferent persons should know more
about her own fair daughters than she
does herself.— Fanny Fern.
Holy Trinity.— On Sunday afternoon
last (the 31st ult.,) Rt. Rev. Bishop Wood
administered Confirmation to 190 persons
at the Church of the Holy Trinity, Sixth
and Spruce streets, Rev. P. M, Carbon,
Pastor. A large number of those con
firmed were children.
[Correspondence of the Banner of the South.]
COMMENCEMENT OF ST. JOSEPH'S
ACADEMYJN MACON.
Macon, Ga., July 2d, 1868. )
(Feast of the Visitation.) \
The annual examination of the pupils of
St. Joseph’s Academy, under the care of
the Sisters of Mercy, was brought to a close
on this day, by the distribution of pre
miums from the hands of Rt. Rev. A. Verot,
who was aided by our worthy Pastor, Rev.
L. D. Bazin, accompanied by Rev. T.
Bertezzi.
On this occasion, many very beautiful
premiums were awarded to those pupils
who had distinguished themselves during
the past year. Also, a gold medal to Miss
Margaret Burke, for proficiency in Chris
tian Doctrine. The Musical performances
were good; there were several Solos, con
cluded by a Trio. The pupils, feeling
deeply grateful to our kind Bishop and
Father Bazin, who examined them fre
quently during the last two weeks, ex
pressed their sentiments in the following
Address, delivered by Miss Ella Carroll, in
a very appropriate manner.
Right Reverend Father : I have come,
on the part of my school-mates, to tell you
now fully we appreciate the interest which
you take in our improvement, to thank
you for your patience in bearing with our
defects, and to testify our gratitude for the
very great encouragement which your ex
pressions of approbabation have given to us.
We know full well you don’t expect
To find us free from all defect;
Those blanks in Memory’s treacherous page,
Are quite peculiar to our age.
Besides, Bishop, this is the first year we
have the honor and advantage of being ex
amined by yon, and it is not at all wonder
ful that simple little girls should become
confused and embarrassed at the idea of
being examined by a Bishop.
“ We know that we are very backward;
many of us have been unable to devote to
our studies one-third of the time usually
allotted to them during the scholastic year;
but we hope to make up for lost time, by
returning to school, on the very first day
of the next term, and the consciousness of
our deficiency shall stimulate us to re
doubled assiduity in our studies; thus, we
hope to redeem the past.
“We wish, also, to return thanks to our
kind Pastor. Father Bazin, for the interest
which lie takes in our advancement; we
hope to give him a practical proof of our
gratitude by onr improvement in every
branch, particularly in that sacred science
to which all others should he subservient—
that science which teaches us our duty to
God, to our parents, and to our teachers.
Once more, in the name of my school
mates, I thank you.
Right Rev. Bishop Verot, then, in a few
words complimented the pupils on their pro
gress in their studies; at the same time, re
minding them that vacation was not given
them as an inducement to idleness, hut as
a means of acquiring more vigor and
strength, in order to enable them to re
sume their studies, with more earnestness,
at the next term.
The exercises were closed with the
Episcopal benediction. Catholicus.
ROME (GA.) CORRESPONDENCE
OF THE BANNER OF THE SOUTH.
Rome, Ga., July 2d, ISOS.
Dear Banner : At last I find myself pre
paring to give you an account of matters,
&c., in this portion of our State. Leaving
Atlanta on the last of June, I was, in a
short time, landed at that beautiful road
side village, Marietta. I secured quarters
at the Kennesaw House—which, I may
mention as being one of the most thorough
establishments of the kind that lias greeted
my sight since my departure; such a com
bination of accommodations, viz.: attentive
servants, splendidly furnished rooms, and a
table that would satisfy the most fastidious.
From the front, you have a view of scene
ry that rivals any in the State. Proud old
historic Kennesaw looms up in the dis
tance, as a monument of glory to those gal
lant souls who fought on crest and side,
and gallantly died to preserve the pride of
that Banner, upon which those that are
left can look as in a bright mirror, and see
reflected there the glorious deeds that des
tined it to immortality. I strolled over the
village, and viewed the National and Con
federate Cemeteries, both filled with the
fallen of the late war. It pained me to ob
serve the great inferiority of the last rest
ing place of our gallant boys, compared
with that of the Federals; and, it certainly
seems strange that the noble and heroic
women of our land do not again renew
their efforts to do justice to the clay of
those noble men, who willingly sacrificed
their hearts’ blood in the vain endeavor
to place our sunny home on an equality
with the powers of earth.
Marietta is certainly a desirable place
for a summer resort. Its advantages are :
fine Hotels and Churches, elegant society,
beautiful drives, and every luxury of the
city; and, added to all, a climate that
rivals in salubrity any in the country. I
cannot see why the thousands of pleasure
seekers will not patronize home institu
tions, rather than distribute their means
on the over-crowded and unhealthy North
ern ones.
Another object of note here, is the model
Flour Mills of Messrs. Cook Cheek, one
of the most complete of the kind I over
saw; and to see the immense amout of
Hour they turn out per day, would cause
one to revel in the anticipation of cheap
bread, were it not that the reports of the
wheat crop are so gloomy.
Leaving Marietta, on the State Road,
the next place that greets the eye is Car
tersville. Here, we find every evident
of a growing and prosperous town, (
Exchange Hotel, with its connecting buil 2
ings, is one of the features ot the place
Departing from this point, Rome was the
next place that gave rest to weary and
tired limbs. And to see the gigantic
efforts at improvements that are going on
at this place, would completely obliterate
all impression of hard times. I counted
some ten fine brick buildings in the course of
construction. Here the Banner met with
many kind friends, who kindly wished it
success, and made many beautiful comply
ments to its distinguished Editor, and they
earnestly request that he will visit them
and aid them in the construction of a
Church, for ’which large amounts have
already been subscribed.
Yours, truly, §
’ LITERARY AND ART’ITEMS,
[From the -New Orleans Picayune and other sources.]
George Eliot’s poern, “The Spanish
Gipsy,” has reached a second edition. The
first sold in three days. The fourth (the
concluding volume,) of Helps’ “ Spanish
Conquest in America,” is published.—
Holmes is writing anew poem. Horace
Greeley has sent one hundred copies of his
“ American Conflict” to London for distri
bution among the most frequented of the
public libraries of the United Kingdom.
Prince and Princess Salm-Salm are so
journing in Switzerland. She is writing
her “ Mexican Diary,” and her husband a
history of the siege of Queretaro.
A Boston house will shortly publish
“ The Modern Representations of the Life
of Jesus,” four discourses delivered before
the Evangelical Union at Hanover, Ger
many, by Dr. Uhlborn. Translated from
the third German edition.
The Rev. E. H. Knowles has discovered
that Swift’s description of a storm, in the
voyage to Brobdignag, is copied from
Sturmy’s “Compleat Mariner,” pp. 17 and
18, in his Mariner’s Magazine, fob, 1669.
The English House of Lords—the Lord
Chancellor pronouncing judgment--have
decided that residence anywhere in the
British dominions at the time of publish
ing his work, entitles a foreigner to the
benefit of the English copyright law.
Church, the landscape painter, has re
ceived an order to paint the falls of Schaft
hausen, on the Rhine, from a German
nobleman, who saw his “ Niagara” at the
Paris Exposition last summer. Bierstadt
has taken a studio in Paris for the next
winter. He refuses to sell immediately his
magnificent picture of Vesuvius. Those
who have seen it report that it is a won
derful success.
Karl Muller, whose statuettes the “Pitch
er” and “ Batter,” have attracted atten
tion recently, has another statuette which
will be offered to the public in about three
weeks, called the “ Newsboy.” and said to
be the best of his productions. The cele
brated artist, Constant Mayer, is painting a
picture having for its subject a juvenile
hoot-black and newsboy.
The Post says the Art season lias closed
in New York. A correspondent of the
same paper says : “ The city of Cincinnati
is now favored with an exhibition of the
largest and most valuable collection jt
pictures that lias ever been gathered for
public view west of the Alleghanies. This
exhibition is under the auspices of the
“ Cincinnati Academy of Fine Arts.’’
By a letter from Rome, we learn that
Rogers is engaged upon a colossal statu*,
commemorative of the soldiers and sailor'
of Michigan, of which State he is a native.
It is to be placed in a public square in the
city of Detroit. lie is also designing a
similar monument for Rhode Island.
The same letter says: “Miss Hosmer
beautiful studio is always open to visitor
from her own country. It is filled with
marvellous works of art. Next to Zeuobia.
her reclining statue of Beatrice Cenci i
one of her best works. She is at present
engaged upon a full length statue of Benton,
which was ordered by the city of St. Louis.
A fountain, with laughing water nymphs
aud lilies, for a private gentleman’s resi
dence in London, is exceedingly attractive
and beautiful. It is so arranged in the
studio that water is made to play upon it
while it remains on exhibition. ’Le
Sleeping Fawn,’ and ‘ Pick’ putting hi
girdle around the world in forty minute-,
are greatly admired, and add much to tk
attractiveness of this lady’s studio.”
The Pope has had a medal struck to
commemorate the great discovery of p rt "
cious marbles on the river bank at the too
of the Aventine. His Holiness has p re '
seated a line copy of the medal to Cow
mendatore Viscount who discovered t.v
marbles.
The soil of old Rome, which seem? t
bear an inexhaustible crop of arebo
logical treasures, has just yielded an ex
tremely beautiful specimen of mosaic am
in the form of a pavement of a room ex >
vated in the Villa Sterrato—a lane betAvev.
the Barberini Gardens and the m-\v Con
stanzi Hotel.
Death of an Aged and Ext;:n?i^ :
Known Priest. —The Rev. Father
Secclii Murro, of the Order ot
vants of Mary, and Confessor ot the 1 1 ’ * •
fical family, died in Rome, June 1.
long and painful illness, supported u -
holy resignation. He was in the :>eN _
fourth year of his age. lie tilled the
of Consultor of the Holy Congregation' *
Bishops and Regulars, of the Propagm“ •
ot the Faith, of the Index, of Sacred h
and Examiner of Bishops and of the
Clergy. This venerable servant 01 . '
enjoyed a world-wide reputation to. -
varied and extensive learning. _
[Catholic Mirror. -