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VOL. I.
For the Banner of the Sou th.
It's a Queer World.
‘ Life's a sad exjieriment ”
Manga??
“A quaint and curious revel.
Very dismal in the ending.”
J. Bhi nnan.
I
1 hate your biting satirists, who grin
At human folly, and wax wroth at sin;
We, too, are human: let us therefore smile
At that which rouses other people's bile.
I! man be dust, frail, evanescent, thoughtless,
How can you hope him ever pure and faultless ?
A compound strange, howe’er you shake and mix it;
It’s a queer world, anyhow you fix it.
11.
gome deal in politics—all have their hobbies,
gee blear-eyed drunkards prowling round the bars,
And lazy loafers lounging through the lobbies;
See school-boys strutting with the post of Mars,
The triends of years about a trifle quarrel—
One draws a knife, the other points a barrel;
Jones kicks the bucket, perhaps Wilkins kicks it:
It’s a queer world, anyhow you fix it.
in.
Hear self-styled patriots daily sprouting treason;
The thiek-skuU’d miscreant'stabs, and swears, and
swaggers,
And thinks to murder calm, immortal Reason
With knife, brass knuckles , bludgeon, colts and dan
gers !
Truth, like the skies at midnight, pure and holy,
Is oniy reached by tranquil meditation.
Passion is blind and quick—Truth ripens slowly,
Hut damphool fancies steel ends disputation 1
Into his neighbor's pancreas he sticks it—
It’s a “great country,” anyhow you fix it!
rv.
The noisy quack or juggler stuns the people
While silent merit blushes in the shade:
And Vice or Folly, plain as Patrick’s steeple
Flaunts in the glare of gold unjustly made.
Grand is the pomp of monumental marble
O’er him who, any way, amasseth money !
Despairing poets (paid, of course, sir 1) warble
Ilia requiem odes m verses sweet as honey.
Poor Conscience’ epitaph is simply Vixit! '
It’s a queer planet, anyhow you fix it!
v.
1 hate a bore. I’d rather kiss a mummy,
Or sleep in Cheops’ sepulchre all night,
ihan spend an hour with such a prating dummy,
Who “speaks and yet says nothing;” (BhakspV-are s
tight
In this as other things.) Did it become me,
Id mention many a senatorial wight,
Preacher, and teacher nebulous as rummy,
U „ Rnu reEown by soaring out of sight.
Hath Heaven a lock ? Borne snuffling humbug picks it!
three cheers for humbug ! —anyhow you fix it!
TJ.
HfiiU' ye tliree thousand liighlalutin preachers,
Hamming all Congress liellwards in a trice—
frantic, pedantic Abolition teacher,
Bringing from Boston—capital of Vice—
if la t eßt treuzv of the Freedom-screechers,
Rrothel itmiauces, cant, and loaded dice,
ninJe every.jackass from the pulpit braying,
uirses the South and swears that he is praying !
Wgot or hypocrite, buffoon or Quixote,
ftch j no Christian, anyhow you fix it,
VII.
Vh; build unnumbered Colleges and churches,
Still greed and blasphemy and hate abound.'
'fiir children, free from salutary birches,
Have neither mind nor body pure and sound.
vt b n they chew tobacco. We, persimmon
And peaches climbed for at that hungry age.
'lu dhood’s no more—but little men and women
l int fight and farce it on their pigmy stage.
A hodless boyhood hurls the man to ruin—
-1 is tune, papas, to tahe a hint from Bruin—
* ic more he likes the cub the more he lick* it:
H s a queer world, anyhow you fix it.
via.
nico c had her bruisers, orators and sages,
nibn«h ,ly t- g(,od M ;iug have th <'y doni ami Uttered
~ ,iU lters shine in Pindar’s sporting pages;
vmostlienes “was some,” altho’ he stuttered.
1 lnu ' h; is treasured, thro’ revolving ages,
Whe(hp!“fh“ 8t gr v VI th ’ wise- men muttered,
■ tnei the snarling cynic tubcub rag“s
dnppwg .Socrates, iiali smothered, spluttered,
v iai , B ">U apothegm, m y "ipse dixit,'’
f-uth s a queer planet, anyhow you fix it.
-Vec Orleans, ISfcc, D ‘ W *
Rie Countess of Clare.
A SEQUEL TO THK
l !u ' : BAKI.S OP SUTHERLAND.’;
hv ruth Fairfax.
CHAPTER i.
1 A Reginald die ? Not so, else had
tt lc ' ume d our pen most reluctantly.
r „. ,‘ u IiOT but many long weary days
■;/ lie regained health and strength,
muTl a r y '. He d ’ d Dotdie > but, we
s , \ ' Ohless it, his glorious beauty was
nv i‘ a ; nian ' ed b J Ibe broad sear that
w i h,s . T hi * brow - With his hair
rj 1,8 m, obt net have been observed,
‘V V ’ v, ’ llb tboso ghastly cheeks,
J‘, Hnuil eyes, and close cut hair, we can
op' 1 7) - V . beve T -ie figure before us to be
‘^ nd wbere do we find
o* p l .' ' • ] V be Palace of Louis XIV
Uu ' 0- hen first taken prisoner
his rich attire, bearing 1 witness to his
high rank, secured for him kind atten
*ion. No letter, or papers of any kind,
revealed his name, but when by chance
Louis saw his face, he recalled with de
light his interview with Reginald. The
chain placed by his own hand still encir
cled Regie’s neck, and from that time his
litc and health became the especial care
ol the King of I ranco. Why Louis kept
Reginald s name secret we cannot tell,
but he did keep it until Reginald fully
recovered his senses, and then the King
spoke to him about it.
will soon wish to leave me,
now, 1 said Louis; “other friends that are
far dearer to to you than 1 am, are look
ing for you, perhaps, and you will go.”
“I do not care to go,” answered Regie
languidly.
“You do not care to go? You will
stay here ? exclaimed Louis.
“I will stay here, yes, if your Majesty
will allow me, and if my name does not
savor too strongly of rebellion to make
my stay pleasant.”
“No one knows your name,’’said Louis,
looking steadily at Reginald.
“Have you kept my name from every
one ?” asked Reginald eagerly.
“I have.”
“Then let it sink into oblivion, never!
never!-—if it please your majesty--let me
hear the name of Sutherland again; it
has grown hateful to my ears!” cried
Reginald vehemently.
“The name of Sutherland is not to be
treated with contempt,” answered Louis
gravely. “It is borne by men who have
been true, honest and faithful to their
King; aye, even when the blood of a
brother called for vengeance that was
denied by the sovereign whose life lay in
the hands of Sutherland! lam not ig
norant of the past, Reginald, I have
heard the history of Glencoe, and I say
again, the name of your family is not to
he treated with contempt.”
"True, we have been faithful to our
King, we will remain so while life lasts,
and our name has ever been considered
an honorable one, but what is the dead
past to me ? 1 hate my name, I never
wish to hear it again!’’
"Why ?” asked the King,
j ‘‘Because I despise it!” cried Reginald.
! ‘ But why, tell me why you despise it,”
j said Louis in a sympathizing voice; “I
have noticed a great change in you, you
are not like the youth who came to plead
the cause of his exiled King, his* face
beaming with life, and hope and love--”
"Oh! forbear!” exclaimed Reginald,
in a voice of agony.
“Then the future was spread before
you in glowing beauty,” continued Louis;
"Hope invited you, and love strewed
sweetest flowers in jour path. Now j-ou
look back over a few short years and say
hope was a mockery, love a dream ; the
flowers have withered and thorns only
do I find. Then you were not unwilling
to call Louis of France your friend, now
you turn coldly away from his love, you
will not listen to the voice of friendship,
you bury your grief in your bosom and
sajg iii act if not in word, I will not have
your sympathy, you have no right to
know my grief; you shall not share my
sorrow; 1 deny you the sweet sad privi
lege: Louis of France is not worthy of
my confidence.”
“Oil, you wrong 1 roe cried Regie, lift
ing the King’s band to his lips;'“your
Majesty knows that I have never thought
these things.”
•‘Open then your heart to me ; let me
share your sorrow. Why do you hate
your name
“Because it has been scorned by the
woman I love!” murmured Reginald.
“There, I might have known° it,” ex
claimed Louis; “and you are breaking
your heart because madame Sutherland
loves you not. Oh, Reginald, take cour
age, this fearful agony of heart will cease;
nay, look not so doubtingly upon me, it
may be months or years; it may wrinv
you:- very soul with crushing agony* -
AUGUSTA, GA, FEBRUARY G. 1869.
you may look upon the sun and almost
curse its light ; you may look upon the
earth and ask it to hide you in its bosom;
you may turn with heart-sickening an
guish from all joy, but your heart will be
come inured to its pain after awhile, and
then you will smile again !’’
“Your Majesty has loved and lost,”
said Regie gently.
“I! exclaimed Louis, starting from
his seat. Reginald would have arisen,
also, but Louis pushed him back into bis
seat. “No ceremony now,Reginald you
are sick you know, and not able to stand.
What were you saying ? All, yes. True
my friend; too true, yes j have loved—
and lost. lam no longer young, yet even
now when I think of my early " love, my
heart softens and I can sympathize with
you in your sorrow. Command your
self my friend, yet no, rather give free
vent to your feelings being sure as you
may be that though I wear a crown I
have still a heart.
“Aye ! and a most noble one!” ex
claimed Reginald, again clasping the out
stretched band of Louis; “and now that
I have told your Majesty why my name
is no longer pleasant to my ear will you
not permit me to wear another?”
"Most assuredly I will!” answered
Louis; "you can take another name, now
and always, if it pleases you, for your
name has been sent to England in the
list of killed.”
"Just what I could have wished,” said
Regie; 'but, toll the, how came it to be so
reported ?”
“The King of England sent special
messengers to inquire for Reginald
Sutherland, Earl of CM are. They were
kindly entreated for your sake but I sent
them back with a false message. I told
them you were dead, and, indeed, Regi
nald, I was told that you would die, and
they came no more.”
"Von have done rae great service,”
answered Reginald; "could I have spoken,
it is just what I would have asked of
your Majesty. And now confer upon
me another name; give me some humble
station and name and let even that be
forgotten.”
"Nay, nay, you will make me chide
you if you speak thus gloomily. Listen
to me. 1 learned something of your
sorrow from your fevered ravines. I
guessed that you might wish another
name and I have already prepared one
for you. You will find it in this paper, and
now I will leave you; nay, do not rise,
time enough for that when you get well.”
Lifting a small packet from the table
where he had placed it: when he came in,
Louis gave it to Reginald, and left the
room.
Reginald looked with far greater in
terest upon the packet presented by the
King of I’’ranee than he did upon the
present of the King of England.
He was anxious to know bv what
name it pleased the King of France to
have him called, and quickly -tore away
the seals of the outer cover 1
The first words that caught his eve
was the name.
“Ah !” said Reginald with a sigh: so
it seems that 1 am still to be a'"noble
man: I, who of ail men care least for
rank have it thrust upon me. Oil ! Eu
genia, my beautiful wife, one kind look
from those dear eyes, one sweet smile
from thy lips, were a far greater treasure
than this new coronet!” Burying his
face in his hands Reginald gave himself
up to the most melancholy reflections.
(HAATER 11.
Let us now return to Eugenia. When
Reginald left her so hastily the wailim**
cry of “Reginald,oh ! Reginald, return!”
was all unheard by him. As we have
said he started for London without a mo
ments pause, and left Eugenia, perhaps,
forever. Hour after hour passed, and
stili Genie came not from her room, and
when Emily went to tell her of Regi
nald’s departure, she refused to open the
door and bade her si«ter say what she
wished without coming in. Thus coldly
rebuffed Emily mournfully turned away
and sought Ormand, as usual, for advice
and consolation. And Eugenia, who
shall describe the wild workings of that
proud, undisciplined nature Y How tu
nnultuously the storm of passion raged
in her soul, bearing away in its wild
waves every consideration of reason.
Love shrank aghast at the terrible sight.
Hope covered her pallid face with droop
ing wings, and Reason tied away in ter
ror. Had Eugenia ever felt the softening
influences of religion she had in this dark
hour found a staff to support her, but,
alas, there was no support there, and the
storm raged on without let or hindrance.
As alternate feelings swayed her she
wept and prayed, or, dashing the tears
from her eyes, vowed that Reginald
should never look upon her face again.
Now she would call aloud upon him to
return, and then words of wild scorn and
contempt fell from her lips. Oh! beau
tiful Countess of Clare how will this end?
Unhappy Eugenia, you are filling to the
brim the cup of agony that your own
hand has lifted to your lips. The hours
passed away. The sun had twice crossed
the heavens, and still she denied admit
tance to all. But tliiscould not last al
ways, exhausted nature could bear no
more, and throwing herself upon her
bed she fell into a deep sleep.
On the third morning after Reginald’s
| departure, Eugenia left her room!' Emi
ly advanced to meet her with outstretch
ed hand and sympathizing eyes. How
was her warm heart chilled and her ten
der feelings wounded by ’Genie’s man
ner.. With a careless smile she touched
Emily’s fingers, said “good morning,”
gaily, to the others, and sat down to
breakfast. A constrained silence rested
on the group. They had expected to see
Eugenia in tears; she came to them with
careless case and smiling lips—and they
were amazed Suddenly lifting her eyes
to Ormand she spoke:
“I am going to London.”
"That is well!” exclaimed Ormand;
I was at a loss to account for the bright
smiles that are hovering round your lips
but the mystery is now explained. Regi
nald—”
“Reginald!" echoed Eugenia scornful
ly; "I assure you Ormand, Reginald lias
nothing to do with im r determination. If
I were sure that your brother was in
London I would not go there, but as I do
not expect to see him there I will consult
my own pleasure.”
"What do you mean?” said Ormand,
rising from his seat, and with a look,
dismissing the servants.
"Just what I say,” replied Eugenia,
also rising; "I never wish to see your
brother, Reginald Sutherland, again-/that
is surely plain enough ; and I am going
to London forniy own amusement.”
"My brother! Reginald Sutherland!
These are new names for your husband
from your lips Eugenia,” said Ormand,
gravely.
“Madame had better give his lull title
at once," said ’Duke scornfully; "and
call him the Earl of Clare.”
"Earl of Clare!” echoed Emily; "but
why call him by that name ?”
"Because King William has con
ferred the title upon him,” answered
’Duke, drawing the packet presented by
the King to Regie from his bosom; "and
requested him to give this to the Count
ess, if she will permit me to call her bv
my brothers name.”
“Anything is better than Sutherland,”
answered ’Genie carelessly; “and the
title is all the more welcome that 1 have
never heard it from his lips.”
She unfolded the package while the
others looked at her in silent astonis
ment. As the last paper was torn off a
note fell into her hand, but this, unread,
she crushed in her hand, and thrust into
her bosom, turning her whole attention
to the white satin box containing the
King’s present. They all doubtless ex
pected to see something very valuable
yet they all started as a ray of sunlight
fell upon the contents of the box, almost
blinding them with its radiant glory.
“A full set of diamonds!” exclaimed
’Genie lifting the articles from their vel
vet bed, and placing them on the tabic;
‘ a coronet, a necklace, ear-rings, and
bracelet ! 9 King William has indeed been
generous, and J thank him for his gift’”
‘ You should sooner thank Reginald,”
said Ormand; “it is his love for your
husband that has prompted him to make
this present to you.”
“Did l think so I would throw his gift
out of the window,” answered Eugenia,
“but you will oblige me, Ormand, by
never referring to your brother again as
my husband /”
Gathering up the glittering jewels in
her hands, Eugenia swept from the room
with the air of an Empress.
“She will go to London !” said Or
mand,
“And I will go with her!” exclaimed
Emily ; “1 would not be at peace were 1
not with her, for, believe me, she is not
in her right mind.”
“You are mistaken,”said ’Duke; “she
does not love Reginald, that is all.”
“Be not, too sure,” said Amy in a low*
voice ; consider my dear how mistaken
you were ”
“All! but this is so different,” an
swered ’Duke. “They have loved each
other, and Reginald stili clings to his idol.
Eugenia’s heart has wandered from its
allegiance, pray heaven she may not have
bestowed it upon someone else.”
"Oh! no, no, indeed she has not,”
said Amy.
“You have not seen nor heard all that
l have, or you would, perhaps, think
otherwise,” answered ’Duke. “But, tell
me, Amy, will you accompany your sis
sers to .London, or do you wish to remain
here V*
“1 will frankly tell my wishes, because’
1 am so sure they are also your own ; let,
us stay here, I do not love the city, and 1
am sure you prefer the old Hall to any
other home.”
"You are right; we will then stay here
and Emily can go with Eugenia if she
wishes it.”
"I would never let her go alone,” an
swered Emily ; "and i will go to her
now. T must know when she is going
that I may get ready!”
CHAPTER in.
Gayly sped the weeks away. The
lovely Countess of Clare was the belle of
the season, in vain Emily remonstrat
ed with her, her life was passed in one
continual round of pleasure, and often,
oh! far too often, Lord Vernon was bv
’Genie's side. To all if was evident that
the absent husband was forgotten, or if
thought of ’twasonly as an encumbrance,
a blot that dimmed the brightnsso of tin
coronet she wore. Eugenia if at heme
was alway surrounded by gr. up< «>f
friends, whose lmarts were as false as
their words were fair. And now, to
night, as she stands there clad in richest,
velvet, with the King’s gift now worn for
j the first time, flashing on brow and bosom,
her husband is lying wounded and a
prisoner. Four days ago fell that sabre
across his brow, that so marred his
splendid beauty. And now, to-night
with pale lips Ormand has murmured in
Emily's ear the news of Reginald’s death.
A letter had come from King William’s
own hand ; there could be no doubt of
it; Reginald was dead; he had been
mortally wounded, said the letter, and
fell into the enemy’s hand. William had
sent messengers to inquire for him, and
one of them had been shown his lifeless
body, as it lay in the King’s own tent,
with Louis himself bending o’er it.
Emily is mourning in her own room,
whije Genie is standing there so bright
and joyous. But the mournful news is
whispered now from lip to lip until it
reaches the group of which sins forms
the centre, curious eyes are fixed upon
No. 47.