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About The banner of the South. (Augusta, Ga.) 1868-1870 | View Entire Issue (Jan. 2, 1869)
8 3jotttU’s gqiattment. The Legend of Santa Claus. BY M. D. Do you know whore Santa Claus was born ? The merry imp who this morning made The root-tree ring with his winding horn, When the winking bat had sought the shade; The screech-owl laughed as he galloped past, And the moon hid low in the western sky, And night-hawk scurried homeward fast When he cheered his steeds with a sounding blast : “Tirrala! tirrala! I am going by!” Well, gather around the blazing hearth, Harry and Daisy, and Trank and May— All who are fond of frolic and mirth, All who think that on this sad earth There’s no thing so good as an hour’s play; And, while the Yule-log sparkles bright, Stay for a moment your noisy glee, And before your eyelids droop to-night, I’ll tell you the tale as ’twas told to me. A withered old woman from Norway land, With a cunning eye, and a wicked laugh, And a wizened face, and a skinny hand. In which she grasped a crooked yew-staff, And a sack on her back and a cat by her side, Told me the story one stormy day, And when she had done, she got astride Os her stick, though the door was opened wide, And.up the chimney she flew away. Once on a time, so the old crone said, When the Gnomes and the Elves, a merry baud, Held open court by the fountain head Os the river that flows through Fairy-land, The King of the Gnomes, on Christmas Eve, Hade all bis guests to the Diamond Hall— For none of his Fays that night have leave, Till the cock crows twice a glad reprieve, To roam about on the earth at all. Now the King sat up on his emerald chair By the Queen in her robe of butterfly wings, And the little Princess with the golden hair Played on the “harp of a thousand strings,” When one of her suitors made so bold As to ask permission to kiss her toe, And I shouldn't wonder, for I am told, That her very legs are made of gold, And we kiss the Pope’s, which, are not, you know. “O, I’m sick of your silly and honeyed words,” She said, and flirted her gorgeous fan, Made of the down of humming-birds, “Come here, you ugly imp of mau! Take this toy to-morrow morn And carry it up to the children above, And if you find one who don’t treat you with scorn, Although you were not in the purple born, I’ll give you, ‘Hunchy,’ my hand and love.” And ail the courtiers laughed aloud When Lob limped up to the Princess’ chair; Hut, doffing his motley cap he bowed, And never heeded the sneering crowd Who jibed and jeered at him kneeling there; For Lob was a poor little changeling boy Whom the Fairies stole while his mother slept; Ah ! think of that mother’s dreams of joy, And then how that mother woke and wept! His chest swelled out in a great, huge lump, And his head was as big as a pumpkin shell, His back stuck up like a camel’s hump, And his mouth was wide as a tavern well; His nose was at least five inches long, And as round and red as anew scraped beet; You’d scarcely have thought that his shanks were strong Enough to carry his spraddling feet; His chin turned up and eyes sunk in— Small as a weasel’s and black as a mole — His arms were long and bony and thin, And 4’laws like a bear had the manikin, And hair as red as a tire-coal. Now Lob was once as pretty m page As any you’d meet on a summer mom, Hut the cruel Hill-men in mischievous rage, Beat him blue in their spiteful scorn; They twisted his back and burnt his skin, They pinched his legs and shriveled them up, They tweaked his nose and chucked his chin, And slapped his jaws till his teeth fell in, And squeezed his head in a drinking-cup. But he had not forgot the sunny bank, Or the sparkling hedge where the roses grew, Or the dark blue sky where the lady-moon sank On her silver couch where the stars peeped through; Or the noisy glee and the merry play Os the little sisters who made him sport The very morn he was borne away, By the magic aid of.a heartless Fay, To be the jest of the Elf-King’s court. “Madam,” said Lob; “if you’ll grant toe grace To pass to-morrow the golden gale That opens, they say, 6n the happy place Where children, the giddy moments chase While Sun and Moon keep royal state, I warrant I’ll make one grateful heart Before I return through the ivory door, For I know the spell of a simple art That will win me.love —it is love —no more !” Ilejkisee her hand and she gave him the toy; ' “Go!” she answered, and bring good cheer, Blessing, and love, and thankful joy, Wherever you can, but much I fear You will meet with many a stinging word, 1 And many a cruel jest and blow, For the children of men, I’ve often heard, Like the fairy-folk, can be sordid and low.” Now the toy was only a small, black box, With a tiny hole that the eye peeps through; It was filled with bits of fairy rocks, Crimson, and yellow, and green, and blue, But, whenever you shook it, a shifting scene, As bright as fancy could feign or hope, Burst on your sight—a fairy green With dancing forms of light between And they call it on earth a Kaleidoscope. So off Lob marched with it under his arm, ’Till he came to the gate of a high-walled town, And this he passed through without any harm, Though the sentry gave him an awful frown; When down came rushing a crowd of boys. “ Would you like to look at my beautiful tricks ?” He asked. “I am sure you have no toys As pretty as this.” But they picked up bricks, And pelted poor Lob as be ran down the street, With a bleeding mouth and a bunged up eye, And his nose and his chin swell up till they meet, And his clothes are torn and hang all awry. Thev broke his toy, and eke his head, They called him Humpty, and Dumpty, and Toad, And left him in the gutter for dead, While the keen winds blew and the dark cloud snowed; Thicker and thicker the soft flakes fell, White, and light, and as thick as rain, But they covered him up like a pearly shell, ’Till he grew quite warm—and now I must tell How he rose and limped out of town again. Over the snow with bleeding feet— For he left his shoes in the mire behind — He crawled away in the cutting sleet, Facing the keen and bitter wind ; On, and on, till lie reached the home Os the long dark nights, and the winter storms, Where the Walrus sports in the icy foam And the great Whale spouts, and the big Bears roam, And the white Hares dance round their frozen forms. There he built him a hut of the crisping snow, And glazed the windows with sheets of ice, And dug out an entrance, long and low, Like the lead to the burrows of Lapland mice. And he wiped his nose, and lie piped his eye, And all that night he did nothing but cry, For he felt it were useless longer to try To win any love or sympathy. And for one'whole year hejnoaned and grieved With a little, wee bear for his friend and mate And the King and the Queen and the Princess believed That Lob had met with some dreadful fate. But when the next Christmas Eve came round, Lob laughed as loud as the merriest elves, For he said to himself, I think I have found How to make them happy in spite of themselves. I’ll make a man with a crooked nose, And a hump on his back as ugly as mine, With spindle shanks and with sprawling toes, And a head like a fat Dutch bottle of wine; And I’ll breathe into him my own warm breath, And give him a heart as large as my own. And, although I know it will be my death, To him, as a proof of love, I’ll bequeath, The hand that blesses, and never i3 known. From a huge plum pudding he shaped his head, And of two black currants he made his eyes, He fashioned his nose out of ginger bi’cad, Bud for brains he beat up some smoking mince pies; His body he moulded of flakest crust, Bnd stuck on a hump of calf foot jelly, With a paunch of the same—so that shake it must, Whenever he laughs, that little belly. His legs were sticks of molasses candy, With the knobs mashed flat into two splay feet, A contrivance, I think, quite neat and handy For sucking his toes must be such a treat, His arms he turned out of sugar-canes, But of fairy sand he compacted his paws, And pouring rose-cordial into his veins He christened the manikin Sandy Claws. Then quickly he harnessed six tiny reindeer To the prettiest sleigh that ever was seen; The silver bells clinked in the icy air, And the twinkling hoofs made music be tween; The body was red and the runners were white, And the cushions were blue as the Lapland skies, And the furs were many, and soft, and light. To keep out the cold in the frosty night, _ When over the snow like a swallow he flies. Once, twice, Lob breathed in his mouth, And Santa Claus sprang up and seized the reins; He turned his prancing steeds’ heads "to the South, And away he skimmed o’er the icy plains; But poor Lob shivered and slunk away— He felt that his life was ebbing fast, He knew that he would not see the day, And when morning broke over chill Norway His spirit had fled on the winter blast. But, year after year, on Christmas Eves, Santa Claus speeds from his Northern home, And he flies so fast that no track he leaves. And his deer are covered with flakes of foam. Over the roofs of the houses he goes, With his wonderful freight of Christmas toys, And though the sharp wind may bite his nose, He heeds not the tingling sleet or snows In his errand of love to all girls and boys. He ties up his team to the friendly tile. And down the chimney lie deitly slides, Whistling merrily all the while As from stocking to stocking ho nimbly glides; In the bad child’s stocking he leaves a rod, But he fills up the good with beautiful things, To the sleepers he winks with a cunning nod, Then up the chimney, and oft with his load, And driving along he gaily sings : SANTA CLAUS' SONG. I love good custom and hearty cheer, And Christmas is King of all the year, When the goodman rests from his weary task, And the good wife broaches her oldest cask, And the ox, they say. kneels in his stall To praise the Giver of Good to all, And old and young in sport unite . To dance away the livelong night; But best I love the jollitee That gathers around the Christmas Tree. A WARNING. Now once it chanced that a naughty boy, Who didn’t believe in Fairies at all, Who hated his books and took no joy In anything else than kite and ball; Who tore all his clothes and bit his nails, And never would wash his hands and face, And crawled to school like the lazy snails In the garden walk, and carried tales To bring his playmates into disgrace. Said—“ he didn’t care for old Santa ClaUs, He believed his Ma tilled the socks in the night, And Christmas wasn’t worth two jack-straws, „ And be wouldn’t get up to “put out the light’ Well, he fell asleep, and his clumsy head Was sticking out of the tumbled clothes, When Santa Claus stepped up to the bed; “I’ll teach you manners, my youth!” he said, Jud be touched the tip of liis turned-up nose. And in th a morning, O! sad to tell, His nose was changed to a lump of ice; He danced with rage as the water fell, For the warm sun melted it off in a trice; But as fast as it melted it grew again; Drip! drip! ’twould have made your heart sick To sob him running about in pain, While the drops fell fast as a shower of rain, And his comrades called him Dripping Dick. ENIGMA—No. 98. I :tm composed of 19 letters: My 11, 7,18, 9, is the dearest place on earth. My 18, 2, 19, is the name of a month. My 10, 17, 5, is the name of a favorite. Mv 10, 1, is the name of a river in Italy. My 11, 15, 5, is a covering for the head. My 18, 33, 4,9, is long hair on the neck or breast of animals. My 13, 4, is an article. My 16, 3, 18, 9, is ten cents. My 3, 11, 17,. is water congealed. My 1,3, 4, is what we all commit. My 6,7, 9, is a boy’s nickname. My 8, 13, 16, is gloomy. My 12, 17, 3,4, 17, is a river in France. My whole is a celebrated Convent in Georgia. 'I- & • Answer next week. Georgetown College , DC, 1868. ENIGMA—No. 99. I am composed of 13 letters ; My 8,5, 10, 1, 11, 6, is a County in Georgia. My 7, 11, 12, 3, is a bird. My 4,5, 8, is Supreme. My 2, 13, 6, is a fowl. My 11, 6, 9, is a number. My whole is a Magazine, edited by a Confederate General. S. M. D. Answer next week. Augusta , Ga., Dec., 1868. SQUARE WORD. 1. An instrument for cutting. 2. A stinging insect. 3. A sea holly. 4. Yearly. mihm ©i sis sonm. 5. To refresh. 6. Taken wrongfully. J. M. C. Answer next week. DeKcdb Cos., Mo., Dec. 1868. Answers to Last Week’s Enigma, Etc.— To Enigma No. 97.—Wh0le —“A thiDg of beauty is a joy forever.” Author —“Keats”—the first line in his Endy mion. Answer to Double Acrostic — 1. PrescotT. 2. ObadiaH. 3. PembrokE. 4. EastoN. 5. Potosl. 6. IndiaN. 7. UtrechT. 8. SaraH. MY LAST PANTHER FIGHT. I was lost. The forest closed around me like a catacomb. Its silences, and gloomy recesses filled my heart with a dread which was not fear, for fear I never knew; it was the »haunting, nameless terror, which at times impresses even the stoutest of hearts. Sometimes the feeling comes at night, when sleep refuses to visit the eyelids, and the very darkness becomes palpable and real. For a while I mused over my situation a prey to the dread which would oppress me; but, after a while, I grew selt-poss ed again. I shook my body as a dog emerging from the water, to cast off the influences which fettered my energies. I strode forward resolutely—whither, I had not the least conception. It was well on in the day, when, part ing with two of my companions, I started for the camp, some three miles away, taking a course across the hills, which led me from the river, along whose hanks our hunting and trapping ground had been. Striking a valley which appeared to lead in the right direction, I followed it up to an abrupt termination, then mounted the ridges in front, and so pass ed on into the heavy forest. In this I had walked for upwards of two hours; then, surprised at not coming out at the camp “opening,” I began to realize that I must have gone astray. In vain I tried to distinguish the East from the West; the sun refused to shine through the overcast October sky, and I jsould not even guess the direction which I had pursued. But on and on I went, led by the hope that each rift in the woods was the sought for-opening, only to be deceived, and to become more deeply bewildered; and at length I paused, wearied with my exer tions, to ponder over the situation. It was then, when the reaction from hope to despair came, that I was seized with the feeling first referred to —ot oread bordering on terror. That feeling passed away with the vig orous shake which I gave my person, and for another two hours, until darkness closed in around me, I struggled forward to reach the river hanks. Having mounted a high hill,* I discovered a line of lofty ridges, which I conceived must mark the water-course. Once on its banks, I was sure #f my way, and to reach it I bent all my slowly expiring strength. Long j ere I attained the foot of the hills it was night—dark, gusty night. How drearily sounded the wind, sigh ing through the branches, and the half crisped verdure overhead! It seemed to me sent as a dismal messenger to stand over my coy eh all night, to warn inc of the presence of night and darkness. My couch! where was it to be ? Not on the ground, almost utterly|destitute of grass, and damp with the penetrating moisture of the woods. To my weary frame rest was necessary, but to sleep there was only to incur the double haz ard of sickness, and danger from the night prowling wolf and panther. Hark! away off upon the hill-side a cry! Wh at is it ? Something human, yet inhuman. Ah! I knew Jit only too well; the voracious and hungry call of the catamount —the American panther. An answering cry from the foot hills now came upon the air—the cry of the equal ly voracious and fierce woll. \[y safety lay in concealment; but how was that possible ? The blood-loving beasts would ferret out my hiding place, let it be even in the tree-tops, if once they trot to the windward of me. To the wind ward ? They were to the windward! And the now increasing number of howls advised me to seek “cover,” for a relent less enemy was on his track! I had reached one of occasional rifts, or openings in the lorest, where the green grass and wild flowers are permitted to grow, and the sweet light of Heaven is felt by day. In the lessened darkness of this spot I was just able to discern, out in the little prairie plot, a tree—probably a scrub oak. This offered me a good re treat, if I could mount it, since it pre vented the attacking beasts from hiding away under cover, or should a panther come, it offered no surrounding tree from which to leap upon my perch. To this solitary tree I directed my steps with eager haste, but had not taken twenty steps before the warning signal of a rattle snake was given. This I did not heed, only turning aside to avoid the monster, which I knew must he half torpid with the season’s chill. Through brier and tangle, I finally forced my way, and reached the tree. It was an oak, as I had surmised, with a heavy growth of limbs above, but quite destitute of branches for a distance of twelve or fif teen feet from the ground. Loosening my belt, I thrust ray rifle underneath it along my back, and by dint of skillful climbing, succeeded in reach ing the branches, among which, I was soon enscounced in a position of no little comfort. My strength now gave quite away, and I fell back in my seat so thoroughly exhausted, that a child’s hand could have pushed me from the limb. Sleep would have come without wooing, but, with the air fairly resonant with those night calls to death, I was not likely to slumber. Would the wolves spy me out ? Their cries still were distant, but plainly au dible. I tried to count their number, but it was impossible, for howl mingled with howl in a dismal discord, that sent a chill to my very marrow. How long ere they would come ? A half hour’s rest would give me new strength, and with knife and rifle I did not despair of main taining my hold upon the mid-air fortress, until day should give me relief. What was that ? A break in the clouds above, and a star bursts through! A star! Beacon of iiope, truly! Now another and another. Will the October wind that sighed throiTgh the trees so solemnly, hear the clouds away, and give me light? Ah, see! there comes the moon, sailing up in the East—the half grown moon, as if purposely to keep me company through the night! lam over joyed, and smile in my contentment. Upon the ground, a few rods away, I marked a dark mass. Was it a clump of hushes or vines ? I could not tell. Soon the moon would rise higher, and then I should see all the ground around. With a hunter’s instinct 1 drew my rifle to my face, and waited. It was but a moment, when I distinctly beheld the glitter of two fiery balls, which could he none other than a panther’s eyes. With out hesitation I fired. A loud, prolonged howl of pain followed, so fierce and mad dened that I knew the beast was mortal ly wounded. Twisting, rolling, crawl ing, the creature made its way to the tree-body, and ere I had time to recover from my curiosity and surprise, it had actually climbed the oak ! Very slowly it came, for the blood evidently blinded its eyes, and choked its throat. I had aimed at the eyes, and doubtless, had struck it full in the face, tearing away a portion of the scalp, the ball burying it self in the shoulder or bosom. This I surmised from the character of the ani mal's movements. Up the tree it came, slowly but firmly, growling fiercely with each pang. I could see all fully, and prepared to use rny knife—my rifle having been secured in the limbs overhead. In a few mo ments the lower limbs were reached, and over one of them the panther twined its body. Then I discovered that it was truly a monarch of the forest with which I had to deal—a creature full seven feet | long, from muzzle to tail-tip. Fear was as far from me at the moment, as if a fawn was slung over the tree-forks. I was ready for the encounter. It came without delay. Crawling out' to its full length on the lower limb, the beast suddenly raised itself erect, and threw its body forward and upward with all its remaining strength—its jaws dis tended, and its paws .striking vengefully at my projecting knees, as I sat. 1 had preferred to remain in that position to clasp the tree-stem with one hand, and to throw the full weight of my balanced frame into the stroke which I should deal. The dash at me was the signal for that stroke, and my keen blade sweeping, by a side thrust, struck the animal in tho ribs, at the very moment its paws touched my clothing. Such a half howl, half shriek as rent the air, was truly appalling. It was the cry of battled rage and mortal agony, and the gigantic cat fell to the earth with a heavy thud—dead. I at once regained my ritle; for now that the scent of blood was on the air, I well knew that the wolves would soon be there. It seemed as if the famished herd whose cry I had heard not only smelled the blood, but flew to the spot, for it was, apparently, not three minutes ere at least a score of the snarling, yelp ing brutes were circling around the oak. I sat still, content to let the ravenous things fill their stomachs with the dead panther. After a circuit or two around the tree the whole pack dashed forward to the feast, and instantly became one howl ing mass, tearing away at the carcass with a voracity which, in less than a minute, left not a morsel undevoured I gazed down less in curiosity and dismay than in disgust, and without reflection discharged my rifle in their midst. It was a .foolish act, I knew as soon as it was done, for, up to that moment, my presence appeared not to have been known. The shot pierced the body 0 f one great gaunt dog. who bounded off for the forest, pursued by every one of his fellows. In a little while the horrid carnival was at its height, and almost before I could reload the weapon, the pack was again beneath me, this time bounding up into the air in a vain en deavor to reach my roost. One big brute alone sat apart from the rest, licking j,; s jaws as if his share of the feast had satis, fied his keenest cravings. My wolf-hate again induced me to raise the rifle. Thi time I shot through the heart, and the animal fell over, and lay dead some mo ments ere the others scented his blood Then, in an incredibly short space of time that body was devoured, and the now perfectly frenzied creatures rushed to and fro around the tree, their teno-ues protruding, growling and howling, until it seemed to me as if I should go mad at the Pandemoniac serenade. All at once, the noise ceased, and, in a twinkling, the wolves were gone ! As tonished, I awaited the cause. Had some of my companions, hearing the noise come to my relief ? „ My heart gave a great bound at the thought. But no sign of any human presence was given, and I was left to conjecture. But not long; for, moving hack and forth, on the outskirts of the opening, 1 beheld a form which I soon ascertained to he that of another panther— probably the mate of the one I had killed. The new comer did not appear to be aware of my presence. The smell of blood on the soil overloaded the air with the sanguine scent, and bewildered the cautious beast; for it passed to and fro ceaselessly, utter ing a low growl all the while. Should I shoot it ? The light was too dim for anything like a good aim. If I missed tire, it would be my doom I re solved to await further developments. Something which I did—some uncon scious movement which I made-—seemed suddenly to arrest the panther’s attention. In an instant, it was on its belly, lashing the ground with its tail, working its way toward the oak. The foliage was so thick that I, for a moment, lest sight of my enemy. In that moment, it dashed up close to the tree, and crouched for its spring. The movement was so sudden that 1 was taken unawares, and before 1 could lire, the maddened brute was upon the limbs below me. I fired almost at random, dropped my rifle to the ground, then drew my knife, but not soon enough to avert a catastrophe. A single blow from the catamount’s paw sent me whirling headlong to the earth—a result which apparently so astonished the a - that ic preferred to recunuoitre before further proceedings. This gave me time to gather my senses, and when the beast came sliding down the tree, as it did, rump foremost. I was oa my feet ready for a close-quarter struggle. Now was my time ! I bounded to the tree trunk, and before the panther could drop to the ground, had buried my kr.it to the handle in his back. The blow was not well aimed, for, instead of piercing a vital organ, the blade penetrated to the bowels, leaving the creature’s strength comparatively unimpaired. ! I remember but little else that haj ipened. I only know that, as we rolled together on the earth in a deadly struggle, the panther’s fangs fastened upon my left thigh, I felt that another beast ol sonm kind had mingled in the fray. Then all became dark; and when I awoke to ci sciousness, it was to fiud two of my con;] fellows and my good hound bending ovei me—the panther dead not five feet awyv. Their story and mine were soon to. t Alarmed at my non-arrival at the can.; they had sallied out at dark in jun.-t of me. After a lon" 1 time, the hound strm my trail, and, following, they came a ;:a moment when i closed in with the; • The hound it was who saved me, for was he who throttled the brute at moment I became unconscious. 1 was considerably injured both hr the fall from the tree and by the pant no! teeth, which lacerated my flesh bauly, i u did not crash any bones. A camp extemporised on the spot, a huge y> built to keep off the wolves, and . genial warmth I slept the sweete t-a T of my life. 1 had fought my last panther v~- Capt. Harry B. I s Charles Reade gets fifty thou.-md lars for ids new novel, on which he i-- !l hard at work. Peas and beans being both ric trogen, are valuable in repairing - waste in the muscles of animals, a especially advantageous in the ; tion of wool.
