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About The banner of the South. (Augusta, Ga.) 1868-1870 | View Entire Issue (Feb. 20, 1869)
2 now Eugenia stood before her husband lovelier than ever. . Merciful heaven !” thought dc \ ere, I,is eyes fastened upon the silvery curls; “what lias caused this ? “Wbat is it, mama V’ asked Regiuald, claspinir her baud ; “you, too, note the Count’s likeness to papa, do you not ?” “Yes,” murmured the Countess; “I have heard my’ brothers speak of it; but I dreamed not it was so remarkable 1” She fell rather than sat on her chair, and her son bent over her. “Nay, now, mama,” he murmured, “look not so mournful, or the Count will feel himself an unwelcome guest.” “But he must not feel so; he is wel come,” answered the Countess, again giving her hand to dcVerc. “The Count will pardon me, I know, particularly if he has ever lost a loved one !” “I have, Madame, years ago; yet the pain is as sharp now as ’twas the day I lost my love,” answered de Yere. “Ah ! then, you know what I feci, Count. Will you remain with us long ?” “Until lam called to battle for my King,” answered de Yerc. The Countess clenched her hand tight ly. and Reginald whispered to the Count: “Do not speak of battles ; papa was killed in war.” “I am, indeed, most unfortunate,” said de Yere, “my face serves hut to recall unpleasant memories.” “Youcannot recall that which is never absent,” said the Countess, mournfully; “I have never forgotten him for one hour.” “You have done wrong to bring me here, Reginald, and I had better retire,” said de Yere, in great agitation. “But you will return, will you not, Count V : said the Countess. “If your ladyship will permit me,” an swered de Yere. “I will be most happy to see you,” re plied the lady, and so they parted. They who had so loved each other parted with a cold, courteous how. [to be continued.] Selected for tlie Banner of the South. “ To-Day and To-Morrow. ” A BKACTII UL LESSON, BEAUTIFULLY TOLU. I. A rosebud blossomed in my bower, A bird sang in my garden: The rosebud was its fairest flower, The bird its gentlest warden; And a child, behind the linden-tree, Sang: “Think no more of sorrow, Tint let ns smile and sing to-day, For we must weep to-morrow.” n. 1 asked the bird: “Oh! didst thou hear The song that she would sing thee V And ran it be that thou shouldst fear What the next morn would bring thee ?" He answered with triumphant strain. Saving, “I know not sorrow; But i must my best to-day, For I may die to-morrow!” hi. 1 asked the Rose, “Oh, teil me sweet. In thy first beauty’s dawning, Thou cansfc not fear, from this retreat, The coming of the morning ?” She flung her fragrant leaves apart, The. lovelier for her sorrow, Saving, “Yet I must bloom to-day. For I may droop to-morrow.” iv. I said, “The bloom upon my cheek Is fleeting as the roses, My voice no more shall sink or speak. When dust in dust reposes; And, from these soulless monitors, One lesson I may borrow— That we should smile and sing to-dav, For we may weep to-morrow.” Olii* Uoardinj* House. First published in the Field and Eirtnidt, April, 18(53 Re-written with addition, by request, for the of the South. BY RUTH FAIRFAX. At least once a month we .see in some paper or magazine a tirade against Boarding Houses ; now I propose to offer a few words in favor of “Our Boarding House." First, then, the house was a large, four story brick—nut brown stone—and then the situation—how pleasant it was, on that wide street, with its row of trees in the middle, casting their shadow even to the doorstep. The appointments of this house were all perfect of their kind, from the Brussels carpet in tiie parlor, to the large stove in the kitchen. I speak advisedly, for I, favored mortal that I am, have penetrated even to those mys terious precincts. And then our meals! Good coffee was an every day occurrence, chickens were no rnythe; we had no difficulty in finding the oysters in oyster stew. Now, isn’t that enough to recom mend “Our Boarding' House ?’’ But, bear patience a little longer, while I in troduce to you the inhabitants of this little world. First, there was good, kind, Mrs Mur ray, fat. fair, and forty; I wish I could say she was an old lady with mild eyes, and silvery hair, it would sound well, but we must retain some truth even in our fic tions, and had it not been for Mrs. Mur- ray’s big son we would never have guessed her to be more than thirty. Dear lady, kind heart, will you ever be forgotten ‘l Many a time lias thy gentle voice enquired at my’ chamber door, “Is your head any better; can I do anything for you ; must you have a cup of tea ?” Yes, indeed, I would have a cup of tea ; and, oh! how tho “cup that cheers but does not inebriate,” would reanimate my sinking frame and give new life to my dormant energies. Did you ever notice that landladies have pretty daughters ? Our lady was no exception to the general rule, she had a daughter, and a very pretty one too, Sweet, modest Nellie; why were you not named Yiolet ? the flower is not bluer than thy eyes. Gentle Nellie, gentle as is thy heart thou hast encased it in armor of proof, and not one of the many ad mirers who bow before thy beauty have yet found the arrow that can pierce it. Long may you live in single blesseduess, Nellie, to singe the wings of those hold moths who venture too near thy bright ness. Nellie had a younger brother, “little Jimrny.” His was a fair, delicate, face, shaded by heavy’ cm Is of dark hair, which he always kept well brushed, for Jimmy was somewhat of a dandy, aud, oh! how he loved the ladies, and how gal lant he was, though barely fifteen years old. Many a hearty laugh have we had at thy expense, Jimmy, but they were all readily forgiven, so kindly was thy nature. Mrs. Murray had two sisters, Mrs. Pen der and Miss Maggie, gay widow and gayer maid! Do you remember Mrs. P., when this war first startled us from our lazy calm; what plans we made to catch the Yankees should they ever enter our city*/ and how gravely Miss Maggie proposed that we should form a company ? Oh! right brave soldiers we would have made no doubt. Brave as you are Miss Maggie the day will come when you will have to strike your colors and surrender; l mean when that brave soldier comes home from the war, which I hope will be soon, Heaven willing. Saucy Lizzie! charming Liaaie! piquante Lizzie! Does thy life flow on in an even current now, or are you still making friends, and quarreling with them; the next moment asking pardon with all the impetuosity of a generous nature, and in another in staut renewing your quarrel ? Liazie had a sweet baby and a pair of birds, her life was found in minding them, dressing herself, and being admired. Liazie loved admiration, (who don’t ?) and she re ceived plenty of it; but then everybody could see that Lizzie loved it, and many a sly joke have we passed on her, but Lizzie was pretty enough to forgive them all—after awhile. Lizzie had been married long enough to know that her husband was no more perfect tliau other men, and so she pre dicted would Mrs. Steele also find her husband before she had been married a year. Mrs. Steele did not think so, and would fain have made us believe that h«r husband was an exception! Dark-eyed little lady! how gay she was, how active in getting up theatricals, tableaux, and masquerade balls. Oh! Mrs. Steele, do you remember our “Actress of Padua ?” our masquerade ball ? Those were gay, merry times; will they ever return? Mrs. Steele always made it a point to keep a couple of mewing wretches about her, allowing them to clamber to her lap regardless of their claw marks on her costly silks. I dare say, wherever she may be now, that she has a cat at her side or on her lap. I have even heard that she insisted on paying board for one of the abominations—a large white cat that she called “Willie.” How far this is true I cannot say, but I know that one day, when Liziie expressed her disgust on seeing Willie answer the dinner bell, Mrs. Steele politely requested her t# give Willie one of her birds, as his appetite was rather delicate. I cannot describe Lizzie’s indignatiou, but they were at dagger’s points for a little while ; so you see*our “little world” had its wars as well as the big one. So much for our ladies—no there was one more—nor is it possible that I could her. Graceful, queenly, superb—every word that expresses elegance—might might rightly be applied to Mrs. Woburn, And then what a husband she had! Dear friend, would that I could tied words to describe him, e’en his failings leaned to virtues’s side!— “None knew him but to love him. Or named him but to praise.” May his kind heart never know a sorrow; may the.* good wishes of his many friends bring him all the prosperity that mortals alone hope tor. Count D’Or.say! Almost unconsciously my peu passes over the paper with a softer touch, and I feel like stealing a glance in the mirror to see if my hair is in perfect order when I think of the one whom we nick-named Count D’Orsay; perhaps I should say Mrs. Steele called him so, and we all followed suite. Inim itable Count! Chesterfield might have taken lessons and been benefitted. How dignified, how elegant he was! 1 remem ber one evening he came into the parior clad in a suit of brown homespun; how well he looked; and I heard Mr. Steele whisper to his wife, “I must have a suit like the Count’s,” as If he graceful boy ish looking man that he was could ever look like the elegant Count. The Count was not rich, oh, no, but be had the air of a prince, and all he wore looked well ’Twas the Count who was always the “Brigand,” or the “noble lord,” in all our evening diversions; ’Twas the Count too, who always smoothed away our dif ficulties, when our voluble female tongues and hasty tempers brought us to the verge of anger. Never did mortal possess a more ap propriate name than did the Count’s friend ’Gusty. Gusty he truly was; quick to be angry he would pat his foot rapidly on the floor and twirl his mous tache in a truly awful manner, but then it was only a gust, and over in a moment. Mr. and Mrs. Steele and Gusty, how in seperably they were, aud wbat friends. Though she would scokl him herself, she always defended him from Lizzia’s venge ful attacks when he was absent; when he was present he needed no assistance, his blue eyes would sparkle, and many a polite quarrel has he and Lizzie had. to the amusement of the lookers on. There was one subject, however, upon which the friends could never agree— cats! Gusty despised them, they would get under his feet and how could he help hurting them ? Then the treacherous creatures, despite his conciliatory pat and “poor puss,” would run to their mistress with a howl as if they’d had their eye teeth extracted. Many were the anathe mas Gusty bestowed upon these pets. Thus stood “Our Boarding House two years ago ;uow let us see where are they all. Fair Nellie is still at home, as amiable and as beautiful as ever. Little Jimmy —little no longer for he is a soldier now —is in Virginia. May the God of the fatherless keep him from harm, and bring him back to his friends. Lizzie, charming as a wife is still more charm ing as a widow; but I suppose she does not think of that, for she has lo?t her baby, and must bo very lonely now. Her husband fell at the battle of rfharps burg. The whereabouts of Mr. and Mrs. Wo burn I do not know. Count D’Orsay is captain of a gallant company, and more than once have we heard of his bravery, lie is married now, and perhaps when this war is over and lie returns we will all see his wife. Gusty! Alas! the gay voice is hushed, the geueious heart is still forever! He fell mortally wounded in one of the bat tles before Richmond, fighting for our liberties! Jimmy tells us that on the morning of the battle he said to him: “To day, Jimmy, 1 will carve myself a name in the annals of glory, or to-day I will fall!” Prophetic words. A ball struck near that same kind heart; he lived near ly an eutire day, and, doubtless, during those long weary hours of pain, his thoughts often wandered to his gay, yet kind friends. His restless form is still now ; Gusty is no more. Let us hope there is no heart so ungenerous that it cannot forgive the dead : letusdrop a tear to his memory, my companions, a»d pass on. Mrs. Steele has a little daughter now, and very likely has less time to attend to her cats, though when I last heard of her she was taxing her ingenuity to the ut most in the endeavor to make her cat live peaceably with a white rabbit. Mr. Steele has been in the army but is home now, with a constitution much impaired by exposure. Fortunate it is for them that they have enough and to spare of this world’s goods. 1 have been so unjust as to omit one person who, although occupying an hum ble situation in the house, held a high place iu our regards. Did we want a favorite collar done up, Mary was at hand to do it; did we want our hair brushed, and dresses hooked, the ever ready Mary would come with a smile upon her honest face declaring : “sure it does me good to wait upon you!" We never feared to leave our money on the table, or our jewels ou the bureau, for Mary was that rari avis, an honest chambermaid. Heaven willing, 1 hope to spend next Winter in “Our Boarding House/’ * * df * * Six Years ago! Oh! what changes. Could 1 but have looked into the future would the above sketch ever have been written t 1 think not. ihe dark sor rows that lay waiting for us would have chilled my" heart; I never could have spoken so lightly of the past. Now, then, let us again look ou that past, aDd name once more our friends. They arc all living, not one has entered the silent tomb. The war is over, we people ot the South have been overcome by superior numbers, aud not only brave our men been conquered, but our women, also, (some of them) have vowed allegiance to hearts that throb beneath a coat of blue. Fair Nellie is a rebel no longer; no longer docs she busy her little head with traitorous thoughts and plans, for she has cast in her fate with one of the boys in blue, and has returned to her first faith. And Lizzie! Who can tell the trials that fell in her path ? who can tell how sorely she, also, was tempted to join the ranks of those who married with those boys in blue, when all her wealth was swept away as Savannah fell ? Who can tell the grief of her proud spirit as friends fell away when wealth had tied ; when those who had courted the wealthy petted wife, turned the cold shoulder on the widow who had lest all. Oh! Many and great were her trials; but let us hope they are all over now. She did not marry one of those who had marched un der the “stain and stripes,” but a proud rebel, who’s greatest glory was his coun try’s cause, and his favorite dress a plain grey jacket! It may be that Lizzie’s heart has been somewhat hardened by the fierce trials that have wrung it; it may be that she has lost trust and con fidence in friends, having found so many of them false, but we still trust in the future and hope that all may yet be well. And Mrs. Steele ? Clouds have dark ened around her pathway, storms have raged above her head; the soft, petted child of luxury has had to face starva tion, alone with her little ones in a little country place, her husband far away over the sea, or, perhaps, in prison. She has seen the Confederates in their hour of direst need, and her heart has bled for them as if they were her brothers. And then, too, her wealth was nearly all swept away, yet one more straggle was made to regain the lost. All went well for a time, but again they tottered on the verge of ruin. And here I must speak of the Count D’Orsay. I told you be fore of his grace and elegance; now lis ten. while I whisper in your ear of the fine gold of his true heart. Listen, while I tell you that when all other friends were false, this one, this one alone, was true. When Mr. Steel saw naught before him but a ruinous sacrifice of his propeity, ’twas the hand of the Count that was out-stretched to save; twas the hand of the Count that snatched him from the precipice and placed his feet on firm ground. Oh? how his elegance bears a new grace, now that we know it. is but a fitting casket for the shining soul within. May Heaven’s choicest blessings descend upon his noble head, and may he long live to enjoy the prosperity which he now feels, and so richly deserves. Not only tiie Count has shown the true gold of his nature in these years of trial. I have seen my model of womanly grace, Mrs. Woburn, prepare a dinner with her own fair bauds, and land a grace even to that humble employment because she did it. What are trials and losses to her so long as is left her the treasure of her heart— her only son? You will know what he is to her when I say that my most ear nest wish is—may he never change? And thus I have told you of the in habitants of our little world. Oh! where will they be in six years more. What griefs lie in wait for them in the vears to come ? What has fortune in stoiu for them? Who can tell? God alone knows; and ’tis his mercy that hides the future from our view. Well for us that it is so, else our hearts would grow taint, and we might seek to cast aside the cross that (rod has placed on our shoulders, before the appointed time. THE MURDERED MRS, SURRATT. The following petition was presented President Johnson from the devoted daughter of the murdered Mrs. Surratt, asking that her remains might be give* her to be placed in consecrated ground: His Excellency the President of the United St odes: The undersigned most earnestly and respectfully addresses your Excellency on a matter which has been for more than three years to her a source of great affliction. She seeks the privilege of removing the remains of her deceased mother, to have them interred in conse crated ground. She fondly hopes that your Excellency will not allow your authority in the prem ises to expire without granting this re quest, prompted only by filial love and devotion to the memory of her dear mother. Annie E. Surratt. Upon this petition there B the follow ing endorsement: Annie E. Surratt Asks authority lo remove the remains of her deceased mother. Received February 4, 1869. The Honorable Secretary of War will cause to be delivered to Annie E. Sur- ratt the remains of her mother. p Surratt, for the purpose* set forth i t within communication. Andrew Johnson February 5, 1809—L R. B. 60s The Washington Chronicle of Tu* s day last gives the following description of the location of the bodies 0 f tb,' victims of Stanton’s court-martial, and of the disinterment of the murdered Mr. Surratt : The President issued an order day morning for the delivery of the mains of Mrs. Surratt to Father Wakey of St. Patrick’s Church, of this eitv aud yesterday afternoon at three o’clock that gentleman, in company with Mr Townc and Harvey & Marr, undertakers proceeded to* the Arsenal, and the re' mains were at once disinterred. Immediately after the execution, \K Surratt’s remains, with those of p a j li(l Harold* and Atacrodr, executed at the same time, were placed in boxes and interred in graves near the scaffold L r body being at the north cud of the row and the others adjoining her remains in the order named above. In the b. x el b dy there was also placed the name of the party, written ori parch ment,, enclosed in a bottle. The body of Booth was also buried near there • that is, inside the old penitentiary build ing. near the middle door of the warden'* residence. The burial of Booth Wa * quietly made, in the presence of Secre tary StantOD, General Lafayetee (’ Baker, and two of his officers, and Col' Benton, commandant of the Arsenal ■ and after the grave had been filled and ;» portion of the bricks relaid over it, th-. windows of tho ware-room were boarded up and the door locked. The body of Wirz, the Andersonville jailor, was placed in the yard adjoining the body of Atzerodt. For some time the bodie* were allowed to remain in this position. A wooden fence was erected around the graves, and a wooden head-board, witn tire name of the person hurried below, placed at each grave. In tho fall < f 1867, when the demolition of the peni tentiary building was determined on, it became necessary to remove the bodio. and they were buried in the wurehov known as No. 1 (the second building be low the principal office), the bodies placed under the flagging. Mrs. Sud rate’s was laid next to the north wall of the building, and the others the following order : Paine, Hero!-!, Atzerodt, Wirz, and Booth. There th bodies of all have remained until yester day. The coffin, when lifted, was in toler able condition, and when opened the re mains were found to bo in an excellent state of preservation. The face, though black, was yet perfect in features, and the whole body compact and firm. The dress looked well, and the gaiter shoes appeared to be not the least soiled. Upon the day of her execution her daughter, Annie, who visited her, took from her own bonnet a steel arrow and stuck it upon her mother’s dress close up to her neck, and which remained where it had been placed by the daughter. The bottle, with the name of Mrs. Surratt written upon a piece of parchment within, also in the coffin, and without shifting anything the coffin was placed in the undertaker’s wagon and driven out to Four-and-a-halfstreet to Maryland avenue, alomg Maryland avenue to the Capitol, passing around to the left of the Capitol to New Jersey avenue, out New Jersey avenue to II street, and from thence to Mount Olivet Cemetery. Father Walter, who had preceded the remains, wa- there iu waiting to receive them, and they were taken from the coffin in which they were transferred into a handsome walnut coffiu, and then placed in the vault until to-day. Annie Surratt, her brother Isaac, a lady friend of the family, Father Mailer, and Mr. Towne will be present at the funeral, which takes place to-day at -♦ o’clock. It is intended that the inter ment shall be conducted with the sir: est privacy, and, with the exception ot the undertaker and those mention*- no others will be present. ♦ ♦ Ou January 10th, the meet ot county hounds die Curraghmort-. t""* place at 11:30, at Bellevue, county ' ■ Waterford, the charming re-mdenee '■’* Nicholas A. Power, Esq., -U P. The wea’”' * was, remarkable to state, somewnat I pitious, and there was consequent a- j large “field" present, to the number • sixty, among whom were: —-nr. • " Briscoe. J. P„ Tiiivmie House, the galuy master, in his usual health anu 'Ft-A , Marquis of Waterford, 1 1 Beresford, Karl - i' IPs ’, »roug ( . Donoghmore, Messrs. X. A- Bellevue; A. Power, ditto; G. soa.P. Power, Pembrokestown; h- ‘ 1 . do.; P. Power, Woodland-; Hm. Sargeant, J. E.Strangrnan, vita g*- v,i q the officers of this garrison and the '■ rounding stations, with the ger locality and many well-known an*. Nlmrods from town. Citcten.
