Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

And be did die. April molted into May, and when May was three days old, we elided out by night from the works at York'own, and took the Richmond road. >'ext night, the Cavalry were at it, our rear-guard, and the northern van; and the next day, in we went, the. Infantry, twenty thousand strong, all in ragged rev, with a tread that shook the earth, and 'a yell that pierced the Heavens. ‘ Fire!” cried an officer just opposite to me upon the line. I touched trigger, and then half wheeled to the left to load, and there, on the side nearest the heart, was I>orp, down —down upon his back—down with the red Stain on his waist-belt, and his dying eyes on me. War has no ten der mercies. It was mine to load and pre—his to bleed and die. There was no h.st embrace, no raising the prostrate head, n0 word, do touch, no sign. I know that I tore my cartridge like a famished wolf, that I neither fired too high, nor too low, hut at the girdle every time; and, when “Charge! ” came, beyond a long cry that thrilled from the roots of my heart, I know nothing of that day’s work, until in the field, promotion—that slew promo lion, promotion then valueless—came at mv commander’s own hands. ’Dorp’s body I never saw. Some of the men showed me where they buried him, but my Dorp is not there. ” While I live he still walks, and at my death my free-self will come to ray world-self with h s doppel-ganger. [Selected.] Boggs’ Bogs. luJ you over hear of Jehosapliat Boggs, A Uealor and raiser of all sorts of dogs ? “ N then I’ll endeavor in doggerel verse, To, ut the main points of the story rehearse. J: Tjs had a good wife, the joy of bis life, There was nothing between them inclining to strife, Except her dear Joe’s dogmatic employment; An 1 that, she averred, did mar her enjoyment. She often had begged him to sell off his dogs, A .J instead, to raise turkeys, spring chickens, and hogs, She made him half promise, at no distant day, He would sell the whole lot, not excepting old Tray. And, as good luck would have it, but few days intervened, When, excepting old Tray’s, every kennel was cleaned. Ah, his dear dolly, with voice glad and jolly, Did soft-soap her dear for quitting his folly. “ And now, my dear J., please don’t say me nay, but the first opportunity sell, also, old Tray.” ■ ‘ I will, my dear vrow, and I solemnly vow, I'll give you the money to buy a good cow.” And thus the case rested, till one summer night, Her dear J. came home with a heart happy and light; Old Tray was not with him; ‘‘Ah, ha! my good wife This will be far the happiest day of your life.” ‘•Oh, bless you, dear J., how much did you say ? l-'I-use tell me at once what you got for old Tray ?” I got forty dollars.” “ You did ?” quoth his spouse, hy, that, of a certainty, will buy me two cows ; I llmake butter and cncese”—“Hold on, if you please,’* &ys J., in a tone sounding much like a tease ; - It's just as you told me ; the price is all right, And the man is to pay me next Saturday night; hut instead of the dollars in X’s and V’s, m gives me four puppies at ten dollars apiece.” A LETTER OF OUR HOLY FATHER. POPE PIUS IX, inviting the Schismatic Bishops of the Orient to Attend the Coming (Ecu menical Conned of the Vatican. porE prrs TX, r g all the Bishops of Die Churches 'of (he Eastern Bite who are not in Com munion with the Apostolic See. Placed by the hidden design of Divine Providence, although without any desert ot our own, in this exalted Chair as heir ot the Blessed Prince of the Apostles, who, by the prerogative granted to him tw God, is the firm and solid rock, on the Saviour, hath built the Church, '| n '‘ ur i? e( f by the solicitude of the bur d n laid upon us, we long' and strive most earnestly, to extend our cure to all, '.natever region of the earth they inhab who bear the name of Christians, and e : ’ aii them to the embrace of our father ly bjvc. We cannot, without grave u-inger to our souls, neglect any portion m die Christain people, which, as having been redeemed by the precious blood of our Saviour, and added to the Lord’s l]!i -k by the sacred waters of Baptism, i-edufuUy claims all our watchfulness, therefore, as we are bound to bend un '-•-">tiig]y all our thougiUs and desires | procure the salvation of all, who know adore Jesus Christ, we turn our . ( n and our Fatherly thoughts to those 1 lurches, which, of yore, when united £ llle , bonds of unity with this Apostolic ‘ i;0 ’ nourished in such credit for sanctity bleavenly learning, and produced Divine glory, and of the '- ’. c.tion of souls; but which now, by the j-’-ianmw arts and devices of him who u '*■ op-stirred schism in Heaven, exist to ; r great grief in a state of separation, and j. lvlSloll from the communion of the Holy \' nj y n Church, which is spread over the wiioie world. '' r ’his reason, at the very beginning ! ui Supreme Pontificate 1 , we spoke to you words of peace, and charity, with our whole heart’s love. And, although our words did not have the desired result still, we have never lost the hope that our humble and fervent prayers would be graciously listened to by the most mild and benigant Author of peace, and salva tion, who worked out salvation upon earth, and who as the Orient on high, plainly showing forth the peace whTch He loves, and which He wishes to be loved by all, announced it at His rising to men of good will, by the ministry of Angels, and while sojourning among men taught it by His word, and preached it by His example. And now, by the advice of our Venera ble Brethren, the Cardinals of the Holy Roman Church, we have convoked an (Ecumenical Council to be held in Rome, in the ensuing year, and to be commenced on the Bth day of December, the Feast of the Immaculate Conception of Mary the Virgin, Mother of God, we once more address ourselves to you, and, with all the power of our soul, we pray, we ad monish, we conjure you, to come to this General Council as your predecessors came to the Second Council of Lyons, held by the blessed Gregory, our prede cessor, of venerated memory, and to the Council of Florence, celebrated by out predecessor of happy memory, Eugene IV., that thus renewing the bonds of?an cient affection, and, recalling to life that ancient peace, the Heavenly and blessed gift of Christ, which in the course of ages, has become lost to tis, we may make the serene brightness of longed for Union shine resplendent before all, after long and sadly clouded, and after the painful darkness of long-lived dissension. May this be the joyful fruit of the bene diction which Jesus Christ, the Lord and Redeemer of us all, consoles hsi Im maculate and beloved spouse, the Cath olic Church, and wipes away her tears in these times of affliction, that so all di visions being healed, our voices no longer discordant, may, with perfect unanimity, praise God, who desires to sec no schism between us, but commands us, by the voice of His Apostles, to say and think one and the same thing. May everlast ing thuuks be rendered to the Father of Mercies, by all His Saints, and especially by the glorious ancient Fathers and Doc tors of the Eastern Chuches, when they see from Heaven the restoration and re establishment of the Apostolic See, the centre of truth and union, of that unity which they, during, their lives, strove for with every endeavor, and with untir ing labor, both by their teachings and by their example. Let their thanks be paid for the diffusion in their hearts by the Holy Ghost ot the love of Him, who by His blood, earned peace and recon ciliation for all, and who enjoined that His Disciples may be known by their unity, whose prayer to His Father was, I pray, that all may be one, even as we are one. Given at Rome, at St. Peter’s, Septem ber 8, 1868. In the twenty-third year of our Pontifi cate. A telegram from Rome, dated Septem ber 80, announces: The official journal of to-day, publishes an Apostolic Letter of the Pope, to all Protestant, and other non-Catholic religi ous bodies, wherein His Holiness an nounces that, in his quality of universal Pastor, he has convoked a General Coun cil, and His Holiness prays earnestly at this time, for their union with the Roman Catholic Church. The Pope concludes by exhorting them to profit by the occa sion, and by their prayers. LEE’S MISERABLES. BY JOHN ESTEN COOKE. They called themselves “ Lee’s Mis e rabies.'” That was a grim piece of humor, was it not, reader ? And, the name had a some what curious origin. Victor Hugo’s work, Les Miserable s, had been translated, and published by a house in Richmond; the soldiers, in the great dearth of reading matter, had seized upon it; and thus, by a strange chance, the tragic story of the great French writer had become known to the soldiers in the trenches. Every where you might see the gaunt figures in their tattered jackets, bending over the dingy pamphlets, “Famine,” “Oosettcy’or “Marius,” or “St. Deni's,”—and the woesof “Jean Valjcari,” the oldgalley slave,found an echo in the hearts of these brave sol diers, immured in the trenches, and fet tered by duty to their muskets or their cannon. Singular fortune of a writer! Happy V. Hugo! Your fancies crossed the ocean, and transmitted into anew tongue whiled away the dreary hours of the old soldiers of Lee, at Petersburg! Thus, that history of “The \Yretched,” was the pabulum of the South, in 18f>4- and as the French title had been retained on the backs of the pamphlets, soldiers, little familiar with the Gallic pronuncia tion, called the book, “Lee’s Miserables!” Then another step was taken. It was no longer the book, but themselves, whom they referred to by that name. The old veterans of the army thenceforth laughed at their miseries, and dubbed themselves grimly, “Lee’s Miserables!” The subriequet was gloomy, and there was something tragic in the employment Oi it, but it was applicable. Like most popular terms, it expressed the exact thoughtiu the mind of every one*—coined the situation into a phrase. Truly, they were “The Wretched”- the soldiers of the Army of Northern Virginia, in the Fall and Winter of 1864. They had a quarter of a pound of rancid “Nassau bacon”—from New England for daily rations of meat. The handful or flour, oi corn-meal, which they received, was musty. Coffee and sugar, were doled out as a luxury, now and then only; and the microscopic ration became a jest to those who looked at it. A little “grease” and corn bread—the grease rancid, and, the bread musty—these were the food of the Army. Their clothes, blankets, and shoes, were no better—even worse, Only at lono- in tervals could the Government issue new ones to them. Thus, the Army was in tatters. The old clothes hung on the men like scare-crows. Their gray jack ets were in rags, and did not keep out the chilly wind sweeping over the frozen fields. Their old blankets were in shreds, and gave them little warmth, when they wrapped themselves up in them, shiver ing in the long cold nights. The old shoes, patched, and yawning, had served in many a march and battle—and now allowed the naked sole to touch the hard and frosty ground. Happy, tiie man with anew blanket! Proud, the possessor ot a whole rounda bout! What millionaire, or favorite child of fortune passes yonder ? The owner of an unpatched pair of shoes! Such was ’the rations, and clothing of the Army at that epoch: Rancid grease, musty meal, tattered jackets, and worn out shoes. And these were the fortunate ones! Whole divisions often went with out bread, even lor two whole days, ihousands had no jackets, no blankets, and no shoes. Gaunt forms, in ragged old shirts, and torn pantaloons only, clutched the musket. At night, they huddled together for warmth, by the fire in the trenches. When they ‘ charged, their naked feet left blood marks on the abatis, through which they went at the enemy. This is not an exaggeration, reader. These facts arc of record. And that was a part only. It was not only famine and hardships, which they underwent, but the incessant combats— and mortal tedium—of the trenches. Ah! the trenches ! Those words summed up a whole volume of suffering. No longer lighting in open field, no longer winter quarters with power to range; no longer freedom, Iresli air, liealthiul movement— the trenches ! Here, cooped up, and hampered at every turn, they fought through all those long months of the 'dark Autumn and W inter of 1804. They were no longer men, but machines, loading and firing* the musket, and the cannon. ing in their holes, and subterranean covered-ways they crouched in the dark ness, rose at the sound of coming battle, manned the breast-works, or trained the cannon—day after day, week after week, month after month, they were in the trenches at grim work; and some fiat of Destiny seemed to have chained them there to battle forever! At midnight, as at noon, they were at their posts. In the darkness, dusky figures could be seen swinging the sponge-staff, swabbing the cannon, driving home the charge. In the starlight, the moonlight, or the gloom, lit by the red glare, those figures, resem bling phantoms, were seen marshalled behind the breast-works, to repel the coming assault. Silence had fled from tlje trenches, the crash of musketry and the bellow of artillery had replaced it. 1 hat seemed never to cease. The men •were rocked to sleep by it. They slept on in the trenches, though the mortar shells rose, described their flaming curves, and, bursting, rained jagged fragments of iron upon them. And to many, that was their last sleep. The iron tore them in their tattered blankets. They rose gasping and streaming with blood. Then they staggered and fell; when you passed by, you saw something lying on the ground, covered with the old blanket. It was one of “Lee’s Miserable’s,” killed last night by the mortars, and gone to answer: “Here!” before the Master. The trenches! Ah! the trenches? U ere you in them, reader ? Thousands will tell you more of them than I can. There, an historic Arrn.C was guarding the capital of an historic nation, the great nation of \ irginia—and how they guarded it ? In hunger, and cold, and nakedness, they guarded it still. In the bright days and tue dark they stood at their posts unmoved. In the black night-watches as by day—toward morning, as at eve ning they stood, clutching the musket, peering out into the pitchy darkness; or lay, dozing around the grim cannon, in the embrasures. Hunger, and cold, and wounds, and the whispering voice of Despair, had no effect on them. The mor tal tedium left them patient. When you saw the gaunt faces contract, and tears flow, it was because they had received some letter, saying that their wives and children were starving. Many could not enuure that. It made them forget all. . lorn with anguish, and unable to l for a day even, they went home without leave—and civilians called them deserters. Could such men be shot—men who had fought like heroes, and only committed this breach of dis cipline that they might feed their starv ing children ? And, after all, it was not desertion that chiefly reduced Lee’s strength. It was battle which cut down the Army—wounds and exposure which thinned it’s ranks. But, thin as they were, and ever growing thinner, the old vete rans who remained by the flag of such glorious memories, were as defiant in this dark winter ot 1864, as they had been in the summer days of 1862 and 1863. . Ar my of Northern Virginia!—old sol diers ot Lee, who iought beside your Captain until your frames were wasted, and you were truly his “wretched” ones you are greater to me in your wretched ness, more splended in your rags, than the Old Guard of Napoleon, or the three hundred of Thermopylae. Neither fam ine, nor nakedness, nor suffering, could break your spirit, You were tattered and half-starved; your forms were war worn; but you still had faith in Lee, and the great cause which you bore aloft on the points of your bayonets. You did not shrink in the last hour—the hour of supreme trial. You meant to follow Lee to the last. If you ever doubted the re sult. you had resolved, at least, on one thing— to clutch the musket, to the end, and die in harness! _ls that extravagance—and is that picture of the great Army of Northern Virginia overdrawn ? Did they, or did they not fight to the end ? Answer! Wilde mess, Spottsylvania, Cold Harbor, | Charles City, every spot around Peters burg, where they closed in death-grapple with the swarming enemy. Answes ! Winter of 'OS, —terrible days of the great retreat, when hunted down, and driven to bay like animals, they fought from Five Forks to Appomattox Court House —fought, staggering, and starving, and faljing—but defiant to the last! Bearded men were seen crying on the ninth of April, 1865. But it was sur render which rung their hearts, and brought tears to the grim faces. Grant’s cannon had only made “'Lee’s Miserables” cheer and laugh.— From “Mohun, or the Last Days of Ijce and his Paladins.”—John Esten Cooke . For the Bauner of the South. THOUGHTS AT TALLULAH. Nature has ever been the theme of the poet and the criterion of the painter; and of all the works of Art, those which are most life-like, most true to Nature, are ever the ones which gain the plaudits of an admiring world. Yet, there are scenes in Nature so beautiful, so sublime ly grand, that Art cannot paint it, nor the pen describe it; and we can only stand and view it with wonder, admiration, and awe, while the soul rises from Nature to Nature’s God. How a scene like this speaks of the power, greatness, and the unchangeable character of Him that created it! How many have stood here (through succeeding ages,) and viewed this scene as have we, whose footprints and memories have faded from Earth— yea, even before the white man ever trod the Western world, the children of the forest gathered here to bow before the “Great Spirit.” Even their untutored hearts were impressed with a sense of His I Divine presence; they felt that only the hand of Omnipotence could have torn this granite fountain assunder ; they felt that His voice was speaking in this thun dering rush of Terrora, the Terrible, as madly it leaped down, far down, in this mighty chasm. They have departed long since, to where the sun sets, and their tribes have become almost extinct, yet this river still sweeps on in its wild career below—this mountain still rears its hoary head above. Nations rise and fall; generations live and die; man changes his works and purposes often, but God changes not. 11 is works shall endure forever, and His purposes are ever the same. Though these Aborigines of the soil are gone from here, and seem des tined to a “slow and sure extinction,” we still find some lingering traces of their de parting footsteps ; we still have some in teresting legends connected with their wild romantic history. Above the Fall Serpentine, still looms their “Council Rock; where the dusky warriors met to hold their consultations of war and State —and ’tis said when one dissenting voice was raised, so surely one dark warrior was hurled over this terrible precipice, mto the surging waves below. Thus, they secured unity and strength. Here, they have met often when “grey morning dawned in the East,” ere they sarc on the war-trail, and here they f F fi n , lan ? t ‘ mes even fall to re eun ie deeds of their braves and chant * unera requiem for those who returned orn J while in the distance their camp-fires gleamed through the leaty boughs, and the grand solemn roar of the River mingled with the funeral diw Here, was the favorite resort of the war rior; while below their maidens loved to meet to gather wild flowers, and lave their long dark in the dashing waves. ° Wander farther up the stream, to where Ladore, or Golden Waters, dashes Its tide down into the Pool of Hawtliorn, and we will find where the Indian Prin cess 1 allulah launched her tiny canoe ere she went over the terrible Fall of Tempesta, and was lost to view, far down in the white surging foam. Her tribe was soon to take its march for the land of exile, and rather than leave her beautiful mountain home, she rowed her frail ves sel over the rocks, while she sung a be loved native air. No wonder they were loth to leave these grand old mountains and beautiful valleys; those rushing rivers and sparkling brooks; for they were Nature’s children’and here wero Nature’s works spread ‘out before them m grand profusion. Yes, all that is beautiful, picturesque, grand, and sublime, in Nature, is here lavishly displayed. I here, are the grand Mountains which cast their wild, grotesque shadows on the vale below ; there is the River, sublime in its succession of waterfalls, with their ceaseless thundering roar ; and there is beauty in the “Vale of Tallulah,” where the River calmly and silently rolls its bright waters round the Mountain’s base, whose banks are shaded by beautiful trees, which cast their swaying shadows on the chrystal waves. . How beautiful must be this scene,• Mewed on some clear mid-summer’s night, when the full moon sheds her soft rays over Mountain, Valley, and Hill, and the gentle zephyrs whisper to the flowers above, while the River thunders below, and the brilliant star-rays struggle down the rugged mountain side, and pass through the trees to catch a view of this wonderful scene. Then, let us look away up to tno blue dome of Heaven, where stars meet stars in climes above, when moving, with a fadeless love, around their Central Sun, and borrow from his peer less rays, a light to gide in future days, throughout the ether space of air, and the world that’s blazing them, by which they shine as one,” and we have a scene tue most sublimely beautiful of any which God has placed before our mortal eyes to impress our hearts with a sense of His greatness and His glory. Hew are we awed and humbled, as we direct our gaze oft amid the countless worlds and sys tems that are spread out before our eyes! How we become lost and bewildered in this vast infinitude, till it rests upon “God, the great Architect,” and wc ex claim, “Lo! these are only part of His ways!” For he tells us there is a world we have not seen, more bright and beautiful than this. Then can imagina tion conceive of the glory that lies con cealed beyond. Then will not the soul bo lost in wonder, love, and praise, when the “veil of mortality is removed from these wondering eyes, and we behold Him face to face, and see Him as he is t while thousands of harpstrings shall be tuned by angel fingers, to swell the loud anthem of, Hosanna to God. Mattie Chatman. Jefferson , Go., 1868. The Largest Advertising Contract given out in ISCS, and probably the largest ever given to one advertising firm at one time, is that of the proprietors of Plantation Bitters to Geo. P. Howell & Cos., Advertising Agents, No. 40 Park Row, New York, on the lSth of Septem ber, for 843,770.20. Messrs. P. H. Drake Cos. have, for years, been among the largest, if not the largest, advertisers in America, and the contract mentioned above is but a small part of their expenditure in this wav for the present year. It is only those who have tried printers’ ink.most extensively that are so firmly convinced of its efficacy. The Advertising Agency, which is sending out this order example. It commenced business less than five years since, and the tact that it now con trols a greater advertising patronage than any similar establishment, is, without doubt, to be attributed to their having expended more money in advertising themselves and their facilities wilhin that time than all other advertising, linns put together, since the establishment of the first Agency, a quarter of a century since. 3