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[For the Banner of the South.]
Anniversary of the Confederate
Dead.
•■Never tell me brave blood is shed In vain ; send*
a roaring voice down through all time. —Sib altek
Scott.
Bring hither the rose, let the tearful red
Os her cheek ’mid the gentle grasses rest.
As they, murmuring, wave o’er the patriot head
As they creep with a sigh o’er the chivalric breast.
Let the life of her fragrance be everywhere shed
Where the rose of a country’s pride lies dead.
Bring lilies here; let the pale pure grace
Os their spotless foreheads, bend proudly o’er
The dust Time’s footprints shall henocforth trace
Upon the age forevermore.
Bring lilies here, with their snow-wreath gleam,
Like the stainless shroud of a country’s dream.
Bring heartsease here; bring violets, blue
As the deep tinged dome of the sapphire skies;
'.They shall breathe sweet soothing the sad soul
through,
They shall comfort the heart with their trustful eye« (
Till the earth, that seemed but a yawning tomb,
Shall smile like a Paradise gate of bloom.
Let Spring speak “peace" to the doubting brain,
For tho’ saddened the sod with its purple stain;
By the flowers, that fall like a sun-hued rain
On this cherished couch of our valiant slain;
By our soul’s response to the poet’B strain,
By their fame undying, we cry again
That, “Never ie brave blood shed in vain!”
Latiexstb.
TO BE SHOT AS A SPY.
BY CRAWFORD VERNEY.
It was in the year 1834, while the
civil war between Don Carlos and Queen
Isabel was raging in Spain, that I was
sent on a secret mission by our Govern
ment to that eountry. I had not long’
received my appointment to the position
I have since held, and was not a little
proud of this proof of the confidence re
posed in me. There w’ere many Frencli
agents employed by our Government in
Spain, to watch and report upon the
progress of affairs. These men, who
passed under assumed names, moved to
and fro upon various pretexts, never stay
ing long in one place, but were always
kept in communication with Paris by
means of travelers, who, like myself,
were from time to time, deputed to meet
them, as though accidentally. You will
ask why they did not communicate with
our Minister at Madrid ? That might
have been laid open to suspicion. But by
the system adopted, all dispatches, or
documents in writing were dispensed with,
and tho traveller who seemed to meet
them casually at the hotel, or in the dili
gence, giving the pass-sign, received their
information verbally, and carried it in his
head as well as he could back again to
Paris.
We were especially cautioned to en
cumber ourselves with as little luggage
as possible, and each one before he started
arranged the name by which he was to be
known—always an assumed one—and
the character he was to represent. My
name on this occasion was to be “Jean
Brissot, agriculturist,” the town of my
birth being given as my place of residence.
I was to be in search of a younger brother
who was supposed to have ventured in one
of the contending armies ; but whose im
mediate return to France was required
most urgently, owing to the death of a
near relative, possessed of much wealth.
My passport, duly vised, set forth the
necessary particulars. 1 need not tell
you that before starting, I carefully di
vested myself of everything that bore
traces of my real name and address. My
clothes were all new, and my linen was
onspicuously marked with my adopted
designation ; not a scrap of paper or note
book of any kind could attest my real
name or avocation. I was on the point
of starting, when a little note from my
mother, containing just her blessing, and
a prayer for my safety, was put into my
hand. I was yet reading it, when a sum
mons came to attend the Minister to re
ceive his last instructions. The little
note was crushed into my breast pocket,
and there it lay unheeded, if not forgotten.
I had not long crossed the Irontier,
when my troubles began. A party of
the Carlist guerillas had established them
selves on the road to Madrid, and no
conveyance would venture for any money
I could offer. So for a week, till the
guerillas were dispersed, or had chosen
another scene for their exploits, 1 was
kept a close prisoner at the little frontier
town of F .
At the same place was staying an old
gentleman who entered warmly into my
professed object in visiting Spain, and
gave me much good advice as to the
avoidance of the many dangers to which
an unwary traveler might be exposed. I
was certain, he said, to be watched ef
forts would be made everywhere to draw
me into conversation on political affairs ;
but, as I valued my life, 1 must avoid all
such temptations. At the end of the week,
I accepted the offer of a person, who had
hired a conveyance for himself, to proceed
another stage or two on my journey.
"While putting on my traveling coat, that
had for days past hung in my apartment,
I recollected my mother’s parting note,
but when I put my hand in my pocket to
find it, lo! it was gone. This was al
together inexplicable. Moreover, it was
a source of danger, for was not my own
name written upon it, whiie the contents
were directly connected with my jour
ney? Here was I, traveling as Jean
Brissot, while the note was addressed to
Jules S . I taxed my recollection
to discover, if possible, that I had myself
removed it. but was certain that since my
parting interview with the Minister in
Paris, I had not seen it. However, it
might then in my haste have been dropped,
and I tried to argue myself into a sense
of security.
But there was no doubt that I was
watched, for surely, as the old gentleman
had warned me, at no hotel did I stop,
but some communicative personage sought
to enlighten me on the state of public af
fairs with the obvious purpose of extract
ing some opinion of my own thereon. I
was so overwhelmed, however, with anx
iety for the fate of my lost brother, and so
eager to discover that beloved creature of
imagination, that l had no time for po
litical controversy. So I avoided the
snare thus daily set before me, meeting
in my course two of tlie agents with
whom I was to communicate, and by the
apparently accidental character of our
interview, escaping detection, or, as I sup
posed, suspicion. I reached Madrid,
executed one or two official commissions
there, and left again, intending after a
slight detour to return once more to Paris.
On the third day after quitting the Capi
tal, provided with a pass from the Com
manding General that would protect me
in my search while among the royal forces,
I entered the diligence at the little town
of S , my face once moYe turned
homeward. There were three other pas
sengers in the coach. One was an En
glish officer of the Spanish Legion,
summoned home suddenly, and endeavor
ing to leave Spain by this route. The
othei s had the appearance of military offi
cer also but were evidently Spaniards, and
sat wrapped up in their large cloaks in
perfect silence, as though desiring neither
conv ‘rsation nor recognition.
One or two stages were passed without
any incident of importance. Night came
on, but we were to travel through the
night, so it caused no interruption in our
journey. It was pitch dark, and l feared
the upsetting of the crazy old diligence,
rather than any other catastrophe, when,
just as we were crossing a bridge, the
coach was suddenly brought to a stand,
by a loud command to the driver to stop.
Then we were surrounded by armed men
in uniform, bearing lanterns, the door
was opened, and we were one and all
peremptorily ordered to alight. In an
instant, a second party of soldiers led off
the two Spaniards, leaving the English
man and myself standing with a guard
over us on the bridge. In less time than ten
minutes, we heard the report of musketry,
and shortly afterwards the party rejoined
ns, and a conference was held, apparent
ly about their two remaining prisoners—
for I bad no doubt as to what bad been
the fate of the others. After a time we
were ordered to re-enter the coach ; two
soldiers sat with us ; others took the dri
ver under their care, and he was ordered
to turn out of the road we were traveling,
and proceed at once to a town some few
miles to our right, which I had already
heard was in possession of the Carlist
forces. We arrived just at daybreak,
and were at once taken to the headquart
ers of the General in command to be ex
amined.
My fellow-traveler, who made no at
tempt at concealment, was treated with
great courtesy, and, whilst informed that
he would be detained as a prisoner of war,
was assigned to the charge of an ofiKar, to
share bis quarters, his parole being
readily taken to the effect that he would
make no attempt to escape. My own re
ception was less courteous, aod I could
see that my story was not received with
perfect confidence in its truthfulness. A
slight smile passed over the face of the
General, when he heard my earnest
declarations of fraternal affection and
anxiety, and he ordered me off to the
guard-house, to share soldier’s rations,
and to rest as best I might on a hard
board for a couch, if I preferred that to
the softer embraces of mother earth. By
a conversation between two soldiers, of
wheih I understood a word here and
there, I gathered that a messenger had
been dispatched to the headquarters of the
Carlist chief for instructions as to my
treatment. Three weary days passed,
and I began to feel nervously anxious as
to my probable fate, when I was sudden
ly ordered to prepare myself for a journ
ey, and in an hour after was seated on a
mule, between two mounted soldiers with
drawn sabres, and carried off I knew not
whither.
M e traveled in this way for a couple
of days, one ot the soldiers keeping guard,
BAHBIB ©g gfflg ®©!El„
while the other slept at night, and anew
mule and horses being pressed into our
service as often as a change seemed nec
essary. At the close of the second day, I
saw by the numerous bodies of troops we
passed on the march or in camp, that we
were approaching the headquarters of the
Carlist army. I was lodged for the night
in a small hut, under a strong guard, and
all unable to guess for what purpose all
this fuss was made about Jean Brissot,
agriculturist, etc., seeking his lost brother
in one or the other of the Spanish armies.
On the following morning, I was taken in
to the preasence of the great revolution
ary chief. He sat at one end of a large
and nearly emptly room, writing, scarcely
looking up as 1 entered in charge of an
officer. One of his staff immediately
proceeded to examine me, and I gave him
my story as substantially as I could,
dweeling again with emphasis on my
earnest longing to find the lost Francois.
When I had answered a long series of
questions, the chief, writing away all
the while, apparently inattentive to the
proceedings, suddenly looked up, and in
a sharp voice ordered an aid to “bring in
the Englishman.” I was surprised to
see my fellow-traveller immediately en
ter the room. Don Carlos deigned,
however, to notice him with some degree
of courtesy, and the Englishman with a
Irank, easy manner, returned his bow.
lie was then questioned as to his knowl
edge of me, but as I had told him the
same story as I had just imparted myself
nothing of an incriminating character
was obtained, and I began to hope for
the best. But, alasl my hopes were soon
dashed rudely to pieces. As the question
ing ol the Englishman ended, an orderly,
hooted and spurred, and covered with
dust, entered the room, and placed in the
hands of the chief, a small packet. He
opened it deliberately, and glancing at
the contents, took up one paper, and
scanned it closely. My heart beat violent
ly, my knees shook under me, I felt sick
and faint, and—must I confess it?—
terribly frightened, for in that small
sheet, I recognized my mother’s parting
letter! Don Carlos turned toward me,
and a grim look passed over his dark face,
as he saw the fright which confessed to
my knowledge of the fatal evidence
against me. “To be shot as a spy,”
seemed to be written in his look, though
for a few moments he said nothing. Re
member that I had no better chance even
it I so far forgot my duty to my Govern
ment and country, as to confess my true
character and errand. The French Minis
ter at Madrid would not have known me,
and had references been made to Paris,
which was not possible, it was quite certain
that, for reasons of policy, my business
and connection with the government
would have been disavowed. All this oc
curred to me, as the Don sat eyeing me
with the letter in his hand. “You know
this?” he said at last, holding out the tiny
sheet of paper. I confessed frankly it
was mine; a lie would not have availed
anything, and I felt too near death for
falsehood. “Your business in Spain? tell
it! ” lie added, sternly. But I was silent.
“You are a spy,” he went on, “or why
this concealment? ” But by this time my
courage had come hack. “I have had
business, secret business,” I said, “but I
cannot reveal it. My companion here
knows that I was journeying peaceably
enough on the high road, and in a public
conveyance, "without attempt at conceal
ment, when we were both captured.” The
Don sat a moment in thought, then, with
“Take him away,” turned to his writing,
and I was led out of his presence. To
my great satisfaction, the Englishman,
with whom I could converse slightly in his
own tongue, was placed with me under
guard. We conversed together as to our
condition and prospects, and he pressed
me closely to take him into my confidence.
As his manner impressed me favorably,
and he seemed to be in better favor than
myself, I went so far as to avow a secret
Government mission, though carefully con
cealing particulars. He was summoned
to the presence ot Don Carlos in the course
of the day. On his return he told me he
had discovered that there existed a strong
suspicion unfavorable to myself. “Here, ”
said he, “you are travelling under a false
name—your mother’s letter was abstracted
by an agent of the Carlists, who was em
ployed to keep an eye on travelers coming
from France by that route—and your
description had been forwarded at once
to headquarters, though the letter itself
had been sent to another place, which you
were expected to visit, and where you
would certainly have been captured.
Then,” he went on to say, “you were
found in a diligence, in company with two
young men, of whose fate I think, there
can be no doubt, and who must have been
guilty, I imagine, of some offence that in
these times, knows but one punishment.
However,” he added, “I have offered to
go on parole to Madrid, partly to effect
my own exchange, for my business is
urgent, but also, if you will allow me, to
intercede with the French Minister on
your behalf.” I accepted his friendly
services, instructed him to tell the Minis
ter my real name, and that my business
was official, without revealing its precise
nature. So he departed on his word of
honor, pledging himself to return in four
days, at the end of which time, if he failed
to make his appearance, I was politely in
formed that I should be shot.
You may suppose what was my anxi
ety as day by day passed, and the very
last of the Englishman’s parole drew to its
close. My guards had much pleasant
conversation as they sat though the long
hours, while I lay awake, musing as to
tlie probability of my execution. They
did not know that 1 understood them;
but here and there a few words caught
my ear, and added to my fears. I was
taken out soon after daylight, and once
more stood in the presence of Don Carlos.
“Ihe Englishman has not returned,”
he said, “do you still refuse to reveal your
business? ”
Knowing that, once I began, I should
betray the whole system, of which I was
hut one member, I was hound to be silent.
“Shoot him in an hour! ” said the
Chief; and I was ordered to withdraw.
Expostulation would have been vain,
and so I made no remonstrance. How I
counted those sixty minutes of life! Ah,
my mother! what agony had your loving
words inflicted on your son! At last I
heard the tramp of the guard. I was led
out, and at a quick pace conducted to
where my execution was to take place,
but we had hardly reached it, when a
messenger brought counter orders, and
I was returned to the guard-house.
There I found the Englishman just ar
rived from Madrid, and holding in his
hand an order for my release. Need I
tell you what were my emotions at thus
being suddenly snatched from death? In
a few hours we were on our way again,
and escaped further molestation. I could
never induce my companion to tell me
how he had managed so successfully.
We parted in Paris.
Five years afterward, I was sent over
to London to communicate with the police
respecting some extensive mercantile
frauds, that were being perpetrated on
French houses by persons in England.
After an interview with the chief of the
detective force, I was promised the assist
ance of a clever officer, who spoke French
well, as my colleague in my inquires.
When introduced to him I felt sure I had
somewhere seen his face before, and a
quiet smile met my look of surprise as lie
held out his hand. He said nothing,
however, till we reached his lodgings,
and then opening a drawer, took out the
uniform of an officer of the Spanish Le
gion. He was the man to whom I had
owed my deliverance from the Carlists!
Like myself he had been sent on a secret
mission by his Government, and after
executing it at Madrid, adopted the
character he had acted so perfectly as a
protection in the event of capture. But
unlike myself, he was able to appeal at
once to the representative of the English
Government, who knew the importance
of his speedy return to England with in
formation, and by his influence, obtain
the release of a friend of Don Carlos,
then in the hands of the Royalists, whilst
not forgetful of his promise, he had used
this circumstance as a means of concili
ating that personage and getting me off
with himself.
The Rt. Rev. Dr. McCloskey, Bishop of
Louisville. —A Roman correspondent,
writing to the Pittsburgh Catholic , under
date of May 24th, says :
“ This morning, a very interesting cere
mony took place in the Chapel of the
American College, the occasion of which
being the consecration of the former
Rector, Dr. McCloskey, to the Episcopal
See of Louisville. The concourse was
necessarily small, owing to the confined
space of the Chapel, and was limited to
the American students of the Propaganda,
to deputations from the English, Irish, and
Scotch Colleges, the Americans resident
in Rome, and other friends of the newly
consecrated Bishop. Cardinal Reisach,
Archbishop of Munich, was the conse
crating Bishop, and was assisted by Mgr.
Vitelleschi, and Mgr. de Merode. The
ceremonies were carried on with the great
est precision, and were doubly interesting,
from the fact ot being conducted by the
students over whom Dr. McCloskey has
presided with such paternal care and affec
tion since the opening of the College. The
new Bishop will depart in a few days to
take possession of his See, and will be ac
companied by the prayers and well wishes
of all who have had the happiness of
knowing him. The Diocese of Louisville
may well be envied in having at its head
one who, by his piety, zeal, and affable
manners, is capable of effecting the great
est good, and who instantly conciliates the
good will and affection of those with whom
he converses.
lie is succeeded in his late position by
the Rev. S. Chatard, D. D., of Baltimore,
who, for more than forty years, has per
formed the duties of Vice-Rector in the
same College.
For the Banner of the South
Lines.
Ever gliding through the meadow,
Is a noiseless, mystic shallow,
.ind my name a voice is murmuring o’er and o’er;
Vis an angel hovering ever,
Round my path, it leaves me never,
And that voice is one I loved in days of yore.
While the silent moonbeams glisten,
To its music sweet I listen
Bwccw e'en than lute,, by 6nge „
The spell, alas! hath bound me,
And the arms are twined around me
And my spirit lover’s kneeling at my side.
'Tis long since he bereft me,
Since to wing his flight be left me.
And, beneath the roses, sleeps my buried love;
I kissed his golden ringlets,
Ere he raised his snowy winglets,
And floated to his home in Heaven above.
I have planted sweetest posies.
And the brightest Summer roses,
O’er that grassy mound—’tis all that’s left me now;
While the evergreen is swinging,
And the dew-drop bright is clinging,
To the flow’ret blooming o’er my darling’s brow.
And yet I hope to meet him;
As an Angel I shall greet him;
A brighter day is coming by and by,
When this weary life is broken,
And good-bye to earth is spoken,
I shall meet him at the portals of the sky.
»»«
PAT AND THE CROWNED HEADS
OF EUROPE,
Avery amusing anecdote is told of an
Irishman who happened to be in Paris
some time ago, while three crowned heads
of Europe were there on a visit to his Im
perial Majesty, Napoleon. These distin
guished persons were the Emperors of
Russia and Austria, and the King of Prus
sia. One day, having thrown aside all
state ceremonial, they determined to see
the sights of the beautiful city on the
Seine, for their own delectation, and for
that purpose they resolved to go incog, so
as not to be recognised by the people.
However, in their stroll though Paris,
they went astray, and meeting a gentle
manly-looking’person, who happened to be
an Irishman, they politely asked him if he
would kindly direct them to the Palais
Royal, “ Faith and bedad that I will,
my boys,” says Pat, at the same time
taking a mental photograph of the two
“boys.” “This way, my hearties;”
and so they were conducted to the gates
of the Palais Royal, and the Irishman was
about bidding them farewell, when the
Emperor of Russia, interested and pleased
as much by the genuine politeness of Pat
as by his -naivete , and witty remarks,
asked him who he was ? “ Well,” re
plied their guide, “I did not ask you who
you W’ere, and before I answer you, per
haps you would tell me who you may be.”
After some further parleying, one said,
“I am Alexander, and they call me Czar,
or Emperor of all the Russias.” “Indeed,”
said Pat, with a roguish twinkle in the
corner of his eye, and an incredulous nod
of the head, (as much as to say, “ This
boy is up to codding me a hit.”) “And
might I make bould to axe who ye may
he, iny flower ? ” “ They call me Francis
Joseph, and the Emperor of Austria,”
“ Most happy to make your acquaint
ance, Frank, my boy,” says the Irishman,
who thinking he was hoaxed, in his de
sparing efforts to get the truth, as he
conceived, out of them, turning to the
third one, and said, “ Who are you ? ”
“ They call me Frederick William, I am
King of Prussia.” They then reminded
him that he promised to tell them who he
was, and after some hesitation and mys
terious air of confidence, Pat, putting his
hand to his mouth, whispered, “I am the
Imperor of China, but don’t tell anybody.”
The Stars. —How large are the stars,
and are they alike, or do they differ in
size ? It used to be conjectured that
they are of somewhat similar magnitude,
presumably about as great as our sun,
and that the differences of the apparent
size are due to differences of distance;
but when astronomers came to discover
that some of the smaller stars are the
nearest to our system, this idea fell to
the ground. A German computer has
now, however, calculated the actual di
mensions of one particular star, and finds
that its mass is rather more than three
times that of the sun. The star in ques
tion is of less than the fourth magnitude
—a comparatively small one. What, then,
must be the size of those of the Sirius
and Aldebaran class! The reason of its
selection for this determination was, that
it is one of the components of what is
called a binary system—two stars re
volving about each other like sun and
planet, and the motions of the members
of such a system afford data for the com
putation. The star’s distance from us is
a million and a quarter times that of the
earth from the sun, so that light takes
twenty years to travel hither from it.
Specimen copies of The Banner of thl
SouTn sent free to any address.
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