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VOL. I.
[Selected.]
A Stirring Lyric.
THE MARCH OF THE WHITE BRIGADE.
BY A. J. BEQUIEB.
Tlieir weapons laid in festal shade,
They gather fast and far,
The men whose ringing charges made
The mountains reel with war ;
For Seymour shout the swift array,
And Blair, the bold and true,
As, side by side, the boys in gray
Step with the Boys in Blue!
A fearless band, they take their stand
On river, lake, and plain,
To clasp around their native land
A reunited chain ;
“ For home, and wife, and life,” they say,
“ We'll lock our shields anew*!”
As, side by side, the Boys in Gray
Step with the Boys in Blue!
The saints who can’t, with eyes aslant,
That we may blinded be ;
The sordid demagogues who rant
That we must bend the knee,
Have had their dungeons and their day,
And shall the ruin rue,
As, side by side, the Boys in Gray
Step with the Boys in Blue!
No martial horde, with drum and sword,
Shall quarter on the free ;
Down with the Stamp Act!—overboard
The Tory's tax on Tea! •
Old George the Third’s exploded play
Cannot be played anew,
As, side by side, the Boys in Gray
Step with the Boys in Blue !
The Carpet-Knights shall wing their flights,
With all their woollen wares ;
Whoso would have a freeman’s rights,
Must take a freeman’s cares;
And such as claim to shape their way
Shall earn their living too,
As, side by side, the Boys in Gray
Step with the Boys in Blue !
The hour is past—the die is cast—
The flood rolls on amain;
The Phantom Ship, in wave and blast,
Has settled, rent in twain !
Iu vain her pilots curse or pray,
And shriek the hopeless crew,
As, side by side, the Boys in Gray
Step with the Boys in Blue 1
The morning breaks, in golden flakes,
The sun our fathers saw
Arise—and now a Nation wakes
To order, peace, and law;
Ho ! Butler, Stanton, Wade, away—
And Sehenek, a long adieu!
As, side by side, the Boys in Gray
Step with the Boys in Blue!
Their weapons laid in festal shade,
They gather fast and far,
The men whose ringing charges made
The mountains reel with war;
For Seymour shout the swift array,
And Blair, the bold and true,
As, side by side, the Boys in Gray
Step with the Boys in Blue!
[Written for the Banuer of the South.]
The Earls of Sutherland.
BY RUTH FAIRFAX.
[CONTINUED.]
CHAPTER VIII.
i lie next day, King Charles, sur
rounded by about twenty of his nobles,
who were wondering why the King gave
audience at this unusual hour,) waited
h r Magnolia Dolenti, who had been noti
fied that on this day the King would
Hiiow her to be presented.
The door was thrown open, the Duchess
t'i Cleveland led the beautiful woman
forward.
Tour Majesty,” said the Duchess,
‘‘ allow me to present to you the Lady
Magnolia Montague. She is
“ A murderess 1” interrupted a clear,
cold voice.
A slight paleness overspread Magno-
\ la ’s lace, but she stood be
fore the King, who looked curiously upon
her.
' A murderess!” echoed Charles, while
tue nobles gazed eagerly around. “ A
murderess! who dare make such an ficeu
sation against the Lady Montague ?”
1 Tare ! ’ answered Reginald, coining
hi ward. “ She is a murderess! and so
subtle are her arts as to have gained for
ier the title of ‘ Enchantress.’ ”
“ We have heard of such terrible arts
and mysterious powers,’’ said the King ;
“ but of what do you accuse her ?”
“ I accuse her of the murder of Howard
Montague, of the murder of Lord Or
mand Sutherland,- and the attempted as
sassination of myself,” said Reginald,
calmly.
“ What say you to these charges, Lady
Montague ?” asked the King, gravely.
“ They are false, your Majesty,” re
plied Magnolia.
“ She was known in Italy as the Coun
tess Guilia, of Ravenna ?” said Reginald.
“ What say you to that,” asked the
King.
“ It is as false as his other statements,
your Highness. I defy him,” was the
haughty answer.
“ You defy me !” exclaimed Reginald.
“ How dare you, Magnolia ? If I could
not prove what I say to be true, your un
blushing denial is enough to rouse Or
mand Sutherland from his grave to
accuse you!”
“ You had better call him, then,” said
Magnolia, scornfully. “ I defy him, and
you !”
There was a death-like stillness for a
few moments, broken by the quiet closing
of a door.
“ Who is that stranger ?” asked the
King.
No one answered.
“Can no one tell who it is?” asked
Charles, again, pointing to the new comer
as lie spoke.
Magnolia looked around, as did every
one in the room. The well known form
of Ormand Sutherland meet her eyes.
He was dressed exactly as he had been
on the day of his conviction. His lace
was deadly pale, and Magnolia recoiled
from him in horror.
“Ormand Sutherland !” she exclaimed,
wildly. “ Away ! away ! nor come now
to condemn me, after all these long years.
You were not guilty ! Oh! no. I ac
knowledge it. Can the grave, indeed,
give up its dead ?”
The King moved his hand to Ormand,
and he spoke :
“ No, Magnolia. I have never been
in the grave, but you have placed me
very near it.”
“Is it Ormand Sutherland? and living!”
she asked eagerly, bending forward to
look at him.
“ I am, indeed, living,” answered
Ormand.
“ Then, who says I murdered 3 t ou ? I
murdered no one ; ’tis you who murdered
your friend !” said Magnolia, rapidly re
gaining her self-possession.
“ You have already acknowledged his
innocence, madame,” said the King ;
“ and, consequently, your own guilt.
Nay, look not around you ; there is no
escape ”
“ Is there n<jne ?” asked Magnolia, de
fiantl} 7 . “Do you suppose that I will
allow myself to be made a prisoner
“ My Lord Rochester, arrest that wo
man !” said the King, haughtily.
“ Stand back ; wait until I have said
all I wish to say, and then do your will!”
cried Magnolia, drawing a small golden
hilted dagger from her bosom. “ Stand
back, all of you ! the least scratch with
this dagger is certain death. Ormand
Sutherland, I defy you still! Reginald!
I am not conquered ! Oh, no ! And
only one thing I regret: it is that Arthur
did not drive the dagger to your heart!
I will die, but not unavenged!” and, before
any one could even guess at her meaning,
she rushed upon Reginald, and would have
buried the dagger in his heart, had not
the quick arm of Arthur dashed her
aside.
“Ha! Arthur !” she screamed in the
wildest fury of passion, “ he, the slave of
my will foils me!”
u “ Enough!” said the King, sternly;
Lord Rochester, seize that woman!”
Never!” cried Magnolia, holding-the
dagger aloft. “ Touch me not, or my
AUGUSTA, GA, OCTOBER 10, 1868.
dagger may deal a fatal blow where I
would not wish it. King Charles, Or
mand, Reginald, I defy ye all! So long
as Magnolia Dolenti holds this dagger in
her hand, she holds the power of Death.
I will not submit to be scoffed and jeered
at. Rather than bow to you, I dare
face the death I hold in my hand !”
While every one was carefully guard
ing himself against the stroke of the poi
soned dagger, with an unwavering hand
she plunged it into her own bosom.
“ Good Heavens! she has killed her
self !” exclaimed Charles.
“ That have I,” answered Magnolia ;
“ think you 1 would be forced into a court
room to be tried, condemned, and exe
cuted ? Did I not say I defied you ?
Ha! lam dying!” She drooped for
ward, almost falling on her knees, and in
voluntarily Reginald extended his hand
toward her, but she dashed it away, say-*
ing:
“ Back, false man ! I want no help—
I can—die—alone !’■* Her words came
gaspingly now, and she fell upon her
knees.
“Am I dying ? Reginald ! oh, Regi
nald, save me!” Her voice rose to a de
spairing shiiek : “ Save ine, Reginald;
you 1 have loved!” and then she mur
mured, in the musical accents of her
native tongue, “ Mia Madre , mia cara
Madref and, with these holy words upon
her lips, she fell into the sleep that knows
no waking.
CHAPTER IX.
Time passed on. Charles the Second
was no more. James the Second was
King, Mary was the wife of William of
Orange, and Monmouth was still an ex
ile, but by no means a quiet one. When
first banished from England, he had gone
to Holland, where, as he was known to
still retain the favor of King Charles, the
Prince of Orange had treated him kindly,
and bestowed upon him every mark of
distinction. When James mounted the
throne, William immediately dismissed
Monmouth and his friends with scorn
and contempt. Monmouth then went to
Brussels, but, finding that King James
was preparing to heap additional disgrace
upon his head, he allowed himself to be
persuaded to make an attack upon Eng
land. In vain, Marmaduke, now Earl of
Suny, raised his voice in opposition; he
was overruled by the many, and finding
that he could not prevent, what he felt
to be a premature attempt, he addressed
himself to the task of fighting for his
King, with all his power.
On landing in Dorsetshire, thousands
flocked to the Duke’s standard, but, un-
the command here was given
to Lord Grey, as arrant a coward as
ever lived, who, by the most absurd
cowardice, inflicted an irreparable injury
upon Monmouth, and yet, notwithstand
ing this, he was allowed to retain his
command.
Alter various defeats and successes, a
desperate attack was made upon King
James’ army at Sedgemoor. Monmouth
fought with the most daring bravery—
he was foremost in the battle—and more
than once, Marmaduke and Cuthbert,
who fought on his right and left, were
called on to avert the stroke aimed at the
devoted head of Monmouth.
They overthrew the forces of the King,
drove them from the ground in disorder,
and continued the fight until their am
munition failed them. Even this disaster
might have been concealed by a skilful
General, but this last battle was lost them
through the cowardly conduct of Lord
Grey. The King’s army rallied; the fol
lowers of Monmouth gave way. In vain,
Cuthbert tried to rally the retreating
forces; in vain, he flew from side to side,
now entreating, now commanding, his
voice hoarse with grief and rage, his face
the very image of despair. In vain—all
in vain. Monmouth was compelled to
fly for his life, and still his faithful friends
were at his side. For twenty miles they
sped onward at the best speed of their
horses, and then Monmouth’s fell under
him. Instantly, the brothers leaped from
their horses, and in a moment Monmouth
was almost forced on Marmaduke’s, while
Cuthbert’s was turned loose in the woods.
“ Make your escape, my Lord; ’tis you
they seek,” cried Cuthbert,” we will re
main here, and try to divert the pur
suers !”
“ Away to Sutherland Hall!” added
Marmaduke. “ Emily is there, and will
provide for your escape !”
“ Here,” said Monmouth, drawing from
his bosom the Ribbon of the Garter and
the Cross of St. George, “ to you, Mar
maduke, this ribbon; to you, Cuthbert,
this Cross, Should we never meet again,
keep them in remembrance of your un
fortunate King. My Lord of Surry, bear
my everlasting love to the Lady Mary,
who is called Princess of Orange.”
“ One moment,” said Cuthbert, draw
ing his own plain coat from his shoulders;
“let us change coats and caps, my Lord;
yoitrs, with its royal embroidery, is too
conspicuous.”
The change was effected in a moment,
and Monmouth was gone.
“ You take the right of the road and I
will go to the left,” said Cuthbert; “but
one parting embrace, my brother; we
may never meet again. Give my dear
est love to Amy, for I have always loved
her.”
“ You will tell her that yourself,”
said Marmaduke, clasping his brother
in his arms. For one moment they
stood thus, and then separated.—
Marmaduke sped with hasty steps over
an open field to reach the woods beyond,
and Cuthbert stood still and watched
him until he was lost to view. Then,
quietly, he drew the royal cap over his
brow, fastened the Cross of St. George on
his breast, and, going to the fallen horse,
unbuckled the purple cloak from the
saddle, and, wrapping it around his body,
concealed himself in a ditch near at hand.
He had lain there but a few moments,
when the trampling of hoofs, and loud
uoices, warned him that the pursuers
were near. They halted when the} 7,
saw the dying horse, then throwing
themselves from their horses, commenced
a close search for Monmouth. Their
search was short, and Cuthbert was
dragged from the ditch, his face stained,
and his hair dripping with mud. There
he stood, with a brave resolve in his heart,
striving to make himself look as much
like Monmouth as possible. There had
been some doubts uttered, but the Cross
of St. George dispelled them all, and
Cuthbert was led a prisoner to London.
Here the King sent for him, but so
little was lie acquainted with the person
of Monmouth, that the change in his ap
pearance was attributed to his long resi
dence on the Continent.
Hoping to soften the King’s hard heart,
the apparent Monmouth besought him in
his father’s name to grant him mercy.
It was scoffingly refused, and worse than
all. James so misrepresented the earnest
and manly petition of Cuthbert as to
make it appear the cowardly feeling of a
defeated poltroon. And to this day, it is
said that Monmouth plead for bis life,
kneeling at James’ feet, with tears
streaming from his eyes.
Enough ! The petition was refused,
and this favorite of the people was attend
ed to the scaffold with the prayers and
tears of thousands. Many doubted that
it was the Duke of Monmouth who walked
so loftily to his death, and believed, not
without reason, that the Duke of Mon
mouth still lived.
History tells us that the noble sufferer
was actually butchered on the scaffold.
And thus died Cuthbert Sutherland,
bravely sacrificing his life for bis King !
CHAPTER S.
While this awful tragedy was enact
ing in London, Monmouth, not dreaming
of the sacrifice of Cuthbert, was making
the best of his way to Sutherland Hall.
When, after nights of weariness and
days of anguish, he, at length, reached
the Hall, he found all the doors and win
dows fastened; but this he expected for
it was past the midnight hour. While
walking softly around the house, and pon
dering in his own mind what he should
do, he was startled by someone grasping
his shoulder, but his anxiety was dissi
pated by the well known voice of Marma
duke, murmuring, “The blue ribbon.”
“ And the Cross of St. George,” an
swered Monmouth, promptly.
“ My Lord, I have been watching for
you ; my sister is waiting for you; “and,
without further words, Marmaduke drew
Monmouth into the house, and noisely
closed the door after him.
Emily and the old Earl were sitting
in the Library, with only one lamp dimly
illuminating the room. As soon as
Monmouth entered the room, the Earl
arose, and turning a large mirror from
the wall, disclosed a winding stairway,
the same he had used when Ormand was
obliged to keep himself concealed. Step
ping into the aperture, Emily extended
her hand to Monmouth. No word had
been spoken, but, trustingly, Monmouth
took the hand held out to" him, and, fol
lowed by Marmaduke and the Earl, as
cended the stairs. Silently he was led
to the room formerly occupied by Ormand,
and, not until the door was closed, did
one of them venture to say a word. Then,
kneeling at his feet, they renewed to the
defeated King their vows of allegiance,
and accepted his tearful gratitude in re
turn. Pointing to a table, spread for his
refreshment, they bid him good night,
and left him to seek the repose he so
much needed. The next day Arthur,
Reginald, Ernest, and Edwin, were
brought to him; they had just arrived,
barely making their escape from the pur
suers of the Royal Army. Fortunately,
these Lords of Sutherland had fought as
private soldiers, merely for the love they
bore their King, and not for power; there
fore they the more readily made their escape
than if they had assumed their high posi
tions. And now Reginald tells them that
all danger of pursuit is over, that one has
been arrested as Duke of Monmouth, and
bravely bore death rather than betray his
King.
“ Can that be so ?” cried Monmouth.
“ I knew not that I had so many friends,
or that any but the house of Sutherland
were so daring! Unfortunate man!
would that I could know his name, that
I might hold it enshrined in my heart as
something holy ! But, why was he mis
taken for me—did he resemble me ?”
“ Somewhat, your Majesty,” answered
Reginald; “but, ’twas the Cross of St.
George on his breast, and the royal cap
and coat that so entirely befooled them.”
“ The Cross of St. George!” murmured
Marmaduke, growing pale.
“ The Cross of St. George !” echoed
Monmouth, with a deep groan. “ Did I
not say that none but those of the house
of Sutherland dare do this thing ? I
must away, instantly, ere it is too late!”
“If your Majesty means to liberate the
prisoner by giving up yourself, you are
already too late,” said Arthur; “he is
dead, and, as I have heard, died like a
hero and a Christian, not disgracing your
Majesty’s name.”
Alas !” cried Monmouth, “he has ex
alted my name forever; the name he
bore was a more noble one than mine
own—for ’twas Sutherland! I gave the
Cross to Cuthbert!’’
A deathlike stillness fell upon the group,
which was broken at length by Emily,
who, lifting her streaming eyes to Heaven,
exclaimed:
Dearest Brother! thy sacrifice shall
not be made in vain ! By thy bleeding
body, I swear that Monmouth shall yet be
King of England!”
“We echo thy vow, dear wife,” said
Ormand, taking her hand : “ Monmouth
shall yet he King /”
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No. 30.