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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. 7