Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

. /-'■ 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.