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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 /” * * ## No. 30.