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t , liberty, to resume their
' ■ t -\ I reply that our people art? not
1 ! Vof that stuff which can be ‘‘fatigued
compliance” by an unmitigated
usurpation and tyranny. Whoever can
V :ir i ; already slaves tit for thee hums ot
; ; * s ] a very and Negro domination.
I”-■** people can appeal to the supreme
• , ','jiJal tribunals BuUproininent gentle
think, perhaps that tho judges of
| 0 i- the Supreme Court of the United
stutes cannot be relied on for unintimi
da'f and and uninfluenced justice. To that
I c an say at least that they have not been
| a ,mealed to, as they ought to have been,
10-i-• to settle the questions arising
under The reconstruction acts of Con-,
gre , s . In the “Reign of Terror,” under
[he elder Adams, the Supreme Court of
the United States was almost suspended,
and tiie State and Federal judiciaries
were in a much more fearfully disturbed
state than they are now: and yet the
B pirit of justice frowned down political
disorder and brought the most beautiful
| order out of chaos. The present Chief
Justice Chase is not the debauched
Justice Chase of ISUI. If we can do
better, we can, 1 confidently believe, ap
peal with certainty at least to our present
bench, against unconstitutional laws.
The decisions of the Supreme Court thus
tar have not been of such a character as
to make me distrust either the wisdom,
or learning,or purity of our J udges. I pre
fer to appeal to them to throw over and
around us the shield ot the Constitution,
than to crouch before Congress with
humiliating consent to their usurpation,
but, wiii “prominent gentlemen” go the
full length of saying what is so rife in
the lips of all who are ready to “consent”
and to “surrender,” “there is no longer
any Constitution of the United States?”
I hope not. It is at least our only sheet
anchor. It is not the fault of that in
strument, the wisest ever drawn by mor
tal pen, that evil days have come upon
this nation. The assaults of enemies
upon us are made upon it, as heavy as
upon us. The blows at us may excite no
sympathy and no relenting of our foes ;
but there is a redeeming spirit in the
love of constitutional liberty which will
defend the character of the rights of all,
and make all, before long, feel the ne
cessity of rallying to the restoration of
its supreme authority, eveu though it be
our shield and buckler. Death has
stricken down the most deadly enemy to
it, the only man who has ever openly
proclaimed in the teeth of his oath to
support it that he was urgent to act
“outside oi its pale," in the passing of
laws. Do “prominent gentlemen” fear
that the majority of the Northern people
arid their officials are such monsters ? If
that be true, then the nation is given
over to judicial blindness, and we are all
in the blackness of the darkness of de
spair ! And is that not really the
rationale of the course of proceedings by
“prominent gentlemen ?” Do they not
give up the legitimate and constitutional
remedies ! Do they sufficiently rely on
the constancy and endurance of our
people ? Do they give up judicial relief?
Do they give up the Constitution and its
guards and guarantees ? Have they lost
all trust and confidence in the Northern
members of the Union to which they are
seeking to be restored ? Then I say they
are men of despair, and are not such as
ought to assume to defend their own
rights, much less the rights of us all.
Neither desperate nor timid men can be
relied on to save a people in our dis
tress They had better take up their ow:i
defence in their own hands, and calmly
await the effects of not only the mem
ories of the past but of the hopes of the
future. lam not without hope, except
iu such measures as those proposed by
prominent gentlemen.” I see by this
morning s papers they have postponed
the day for the “popular convention” to
the ides of March. I wish it had been
an adjournment ‘‘nine die lam done.
Yours truly, Henry A. Wise.
uo R . R. Collier , Es-p, Petersburg, Ya.
fourteenth century of the
CHRISTIAN ERA.
INKZ DE CASTRO—OF PORTUGAL
Translated from the French for the Banner of the
South, by M uut; Josephine.
In the King’s palace, in the midst of a
nnuittule of beauties, the future Queen
0 °Ougai was shedding her gentle
on tne young maids of honor" who sur
rounded her like sparkling constellations
Among their number was one especially
oazzhng. It was the celebrated Inez de
Castro, the heroine of Camoens, the pearl
° f the bnHiant Court of Don Alphonso.
Ims noble daughter of Castile counted
among her ancestors the names of several
Kmgs; and she was less the maid than
me sister, the companion and friend of
j onna Constance, the spouse of
D on Pedro. *
Huppy and heedless of care, Inez passed
#
ner time in innocent pleasures her life
a» pure as the azure of the beautiful
Heavens. The stormy and agitated life
ul ” our t uad not yet tarnished her
cloudless existence.
tranquil in the midst of the perpetual
excitement that reigned around her, con
fident m the future that smiled so’ gra
ciously upon her, Inez abandoned herself
without reserve to the charms of life and
illusions of hope.
Sometimes solitary and pensive, she
would wander on the banks of the Mon-
through the orange groves, yielding
to her .youthful fancies; or, frolicsome and
capricious, she would follow the chase of
the hind through the woods.
, But she derived her greatest happiness
.Tom the society of the young Infanta,
Donna Constance, whom she loved devot
e.U: > > the delicate health and almost con
tinual sadness of Donna Constance was
the sole grief of this young girl. The
most intimate friendship and sincere at
tachment united these pure young hearts,
and with Inez alone did the spouse of
Don Pedro throw off the constraint im
posed on her by Court etiquette. Over
come by ennui , the pomp that surround
ed ner only added to the secret pain
which consumed her heart. The devoted
and tender care ot Inez seemed to rekin
die the laint spark of life in that soul
- eadi to escape from its frail envelope.
And the young girl, with her cheerful and
gay disposition, alone knew how to dissi
pate tne melancholy that oppressed her.
hen Inez smiled, it seemed that half
o* aer smile passed to the discolored lips
of Donna Constance; when she pressed
he royal hand of her friend, it seemed
that a spark of that young and ardent
* struck with its electric influence the
3 °ul of the dying woman.
30 When Coimbra lost its young sove
reign, Inez in tears received the last sigh
of Donna Constance.
, fr iend still had a mission to
fulfil, that ot a consoling’ Angel on earth.
It now devolved on her to soften the
grief of the young Prince.
The sympathy of regret had attracted
the Infant to the amiable Inez. Soon
the name of Donna Constance was less
frequently uttered by Don Pedro; in the
presence of his lovely companion, the
bitterness ot his grief grew less, and was
finally forgotten ; it was in vain that
Inez, faithful to the duties of friendship,
endeavored to recall to his mind the one
who had been so dear. The remem
brance was no longer uppermost in his
thoughts. The present was before him,
pleasing and full of charms.
( The sympathetic Inez, accustomed to
share the griefs of the Infant, shared also
his sentiments. She acknowledged to
herself that she loved Don Pedro.
The heir of the crown was free to choose
his own destiny ; but already policy, in
flexible tyrant of hearts, had arranged
another union for him. A noble alliance
was to be consummated, and, without
doubt, peace between two kingdoms, in
creasing the influence of each; but the
heart of the Frince was fixed forever.
Descendant ot Kings, Inez, however,
bad not titles sufficient, nor rights royal
enough to aspire to half of the throne,
which she would acquire by this marriage.
What matters it! Who would comedo
contest her rights when the diadem
adorned her regal brow, and who would
dare to insult the cherished spouse of
Don Pedro ?
A Priest secretly united the Infant
and the young friend of Donna Constance
in marriage.
i heir nappiness found in its necessary
concealment a holier and a closer bond;
for the very mystery was a protection to
their love.
Maternal cares and anxieties now came
to beautify the life ot Inez. Every morn
ing, secretly escaping from the homage of
his courtiers, from the ennui of grandeur,
the Infant would direct his course toward
the palace ot Inez, which his jealous love
had hidden in the depth of the smiling
valley of Coimbra, and there surrounded
by his sons and his beloved wife, he for
got his title and his crown.
in the meantime, the courtiers, always
jealous of those who obtain the favor of
i princes, and dreading the influence that
| tne elevation ot the Princess promised
! er brother Alvares and Ferdinand, had
| aroused the attention of Don Alphonso to
the consequences ol his son s alliance, and
tne necessity ot breaking it off. They
j painted the disobedience of Don Pedro in
; the blackest colors, and in words most
irritating to his father, who was naturally
violent and vindictive. The old King
was transported with anger. The people,
following the impulse given by the ever
changing, chameleon-like humors of the
Court, murmured, demanding of Al
phonso IA , tor the heir to the throne, one
ot those noble alliances which cement
toe power ot nations, and assure their
prosperity.*
Don Pedro remained deaf to the wishes
* Camoens.
MHSIi Qg ABB BiQV’mT
of the people, to the orders of his father
and Sovereign, of whom he was but the
highest subject. Inez had subjugated
him for ever—death alone could sepa
rate them.
From that moment the fate of Inez
was decided. The pride of blood silenced
the cry of Nature in the heart of the old
Monarch: and without pity for his son.
whose grief he foresrw, he sought the
innocent Inez in the depth of her retreat ;
he drew, upon that weak and timid
beauty, his old sword—glorious weapon,
so recently raised triumphantly against
the infidels.f
In the name of policy, in the name of
the interest of the State, Don Alphonso
had come hither to inflict death on her
whose sole offence was that of having
captivated her conqueror.
Inez emphatically threw herself at the
feet of her barbarous persecutor; she
tremblingly begged for pity, not for her
self, but for those innocent beings to
whom she was bound by the most sacred
ties, ana she well knew her death would
leave Don Pedro inconsolable.
Prostrate at the feet of the Monarch,
embracing his knees and imploring his
mercy ; “0 Prince !” she cried, “what
have I done to merit such a fate ? By
what offence have I drawn upon myself
the anger of my Sovereign ? Is it my
love that irritates you ? Have I, then,
committed a crime in plighting my faith
to the heir of your crown, when I with
tenderness and affection sought to lighten
the grief of the Infant, your august son ?
I will not speak of the rights that a legiti
mate love and a holy marriage give me,
as these are the claims which excite
your vengeance ! Ah ! Don Alphonso,
in pity deprive us not of the light of
Heaven ! Take not the life of Don
Pedro s wife—there will be no balm for
his broken heart ! Perhaps, in the icy
deserts of Scythia, or in the burning
sands of Africa, in the midst of tigers and
lions, I could find an asylum where the
pity you refuse me would be granted—
I would there nourish and rear my inno
cent ones ! O ! Don Alphonso! if it
must be, let an eternal exile be the price
I pay tor the poor gift of life,”
Thus spoke Inez. Her touching
prayer, her beautiful eyes filled with
tears, the youth ot her sons, disarmed for
an instant the wrath of the King. His
severe countenance softened, his heart
was touched, and the father of Don
Pedro was astonished, for a moment, at
his own weakness. But the most unre
lenting enemies, Alvares, Gonzales,
I aeheco, and Caella, more cruel than
their master, had sworn to accomplish
the death of Inez. Trembling lest their
project was about to fail, the monsters,
unmoved by the griet of the unhappy
victim, seeing the heart of the King
touched with compassion, seeing his soul
irresolute, balancing between pardon and
vengeance, determined to hasten the con
clusion of this sad scene; they excited
anew the almost extinguished anger of
the Monarch. they flattered the ambi
tious hopes of Don Pedro’s father ; they
urged him to break this tie, unworthy of
his glory. Alphonso, at last, consented;
and the assassin’s poinard was raised
against Inez for the final blow.
The young mother threw a last lin
gering look of love on her sons, addressed
a last souvenir to Don Pedro; then re
signed her life to the bloody sacrifice.
The assassins struck, the blood gushed in
torrents from her breast, and their vic
timflay before them, lifeless.
Alphonso IV had taken his place in
the sepulchre of the Kings ; and Don
Pedro, in his turn, had ascended the
throne. «
Then commenced his work of revenge;
he sought, even in foreign countries, the
murderers of his wife, she who had been
immolated in the very Spring-time of her
existence. Ilis hatred pursued them
even to the asylum which hospitality
otlered these criminal fugitives.
Grief had embittered his soul; the
King was just; but the outraged hus
band was implacable. Excess of grief
had torn all pity from his heart. He
contemplated, with delirious and ferocious
joy, the tortures of these miserable crea
tures who had destroyed his life's happi
ness.
W hen Don Pedro Ist had thus satiat
ed his just resentment, he desired to
share, if but for a moment, the regal
honors with her he had so much loved—
honors which without her were but a
burden. The livid and inanimate corpse
of Inez was pompously arrayed with all
the insignias of royalty, and was placed
on the throue, at the side of Don Pedro.
Her brow—pale, but still beautiful—wore
the heavy crown of Lusitania. Her
shoulders supported the rich purple of
sovereigns. Alas ! the generous, tender
heart beneath these vestments of silk and
gold had ceased to beat. Under this
gorgeous exterior, there was only a life
tit is well knowa that Alphonso victoriously com
batted the Moors.
less corpse. The grandees that formed
the brilliant Court of Don Pedro, and
the Princes of the royal house, kneeling
at the feet ol Inez, offered their homage
to the \\ ife of Don Pedro, now insensible
to the honors paid her. And the accla
mations of the people saluted a Queen
who could no longer hear them.
Alter this ceremony, distinguished
more by its solemnity and pathos than
its strangeness—atter this last and bril
liant testimonial of a love that even death
could not extinguish, Don Pedro had
those precious relics interred in the
monument which he had had erected!—
a monument less durable than his love
and his grief.f.
tlnez had a white marble tomb erected to her
memory at Acobaix.
[For the Banner of the South.]
THE BAYOUS OF LOUISIANA.
NO. THREE.
The hunureds ol beautiful, navigable
Bayous, that intersect all portions of
Lower Louisiana, are bordered by lands
of the richest quality. Sugar Cane,
Rice, Cotton, Corn, Potatoes, and, a
thousand varieties of vegetables and
fruits are cultivated with the utmost
facility. The Banana and Lemon are
quite common, whilst every homestead
has its orchard of large and luscious
Oranges, Loguats, Plums, and Peaches.
Stately mansions, handsome Catholic,
and other Churches, Schools, and Con
vents—Sugar Houses, Rice Mills, Work
Shops, Quarters and other buildings line
both banks of many of these Bayous so
closely that the traveller on the rapid
gliding steamer, feels that he is passing
through miles and miles of a continuous
village. Yet the fortunes of war have
been so sad, that thousands of these
comfortable homes, with their “broad
acres’’ of the first lands in the world,
are selling for less money than the
wildest prairie lands in Illinois. To the
Catholic emigrant, no country offers such
inducements; as Churches,Convents, and
Colleges are at convenient points. To other
denominations, every inducement exists,
for no people are more kind to the
stranger, and, have less Puritanism
than the old Creoles of Louisiana —en
passant, let me observe that “Creole”
signifies the purest descendants of
European forefathers, and is not to be
interpreted, as it is incorrectly done by
the laws ot Alabama, as indicating the
presence of Negro Blood.
Louisiana.
NEW ORLEANS COR R E SPON3ENCE
OF THE BANNER OF THE SOUTH.
New Orleans, February 13, 186.).
Banner of the South :
Since you last heard from the Crescent
City, the world has been jogging
pretty much the same as usual, and the
people in it seem to be neither better nor
worse. Our holy Mother, the Church,
however, has inaugurated her Lenten
season of penitence and prayer, and has
invited ail her children, saintly and sin
ful, to meditate upon the awful fact of
death, and to prepare themselves to meet
its sure and dread approach. Dr. Rogers,
late of Memphis and the Episcopalian
Church, lectured last Friday on Ritual
ism from his new, Catholic point of view.
Being unknown, and not well heralded,
he had but a small audience which drew
from him the remark that the people of
this City seemed to have but little interest
in this matter. Putting himself thus on
an easy footing with his select few, he
gave them a most interesting and eloquent
discourse on the subject he had chosen
for the evening's entertainment. On
Sunday he lectured again to a
crowded and intelligent house, in St.
Alphonsus' Hall, and kept his listeners
charmed for nearly two hours by his
grace of manner and elegance of ex
pression. It was with new and strange
leelings that we listened to the earnest
speaker, to one who had left the magic
ot the English Church with all its pres
tige of wealth and power, to enter the
True Fold a poor and lowly suppliant—
one who had laid aside his robes of
ordination for tiie humble garb of a sim
ple child of the Church, who had turned
aside from friends, fortune, and favor,
only to live and die a sincere and loving
Sou of the One, Holy, Catholic, and
Apostolic Church. His allusions to the
Church of England were peculiarly
sweet and tender as though speaking of
some loved one, who, though wearing a
halo of beauty around her, still bore in
her heart the seeds of death and the
gloom of the grave; but very fond, proud,
and exultant was his manner when he
spoke of her who is the Bride of Christ,
the true, unfading beauty whose hands
confer rich blessings, and whose voice
rings sweet and clear throughout all
time and among all Nations !
“A Neophyte, a child atthe feet of the
Church, just catching the first accents of
his Mother,” as he said of himself. vet
how manfully he defends her doctrines,
and how nobly he vindicates her truth !
Mardi-Gras, as usual, was celebrated
in various ways. The pious and thought
ul hurrying to the Tribunals of Penance
r ttie^r hearts at the feet of
• h j * mster > and receive from his ap-
P J. n ® , anas t J le lining robes of grace
on ’ Housekeepers, with either
* ° and* 6 e l or httle folks under their
and" “ ie traditional pan-cakes,
and prophesied the usual number of
weudings; the children, of course, caring
T Wed l‘ n S cake of th « future
'I lo r the nicely, browned pan-cakes of
tne present. Pleasure seekers sought their
objector course in the balls and other
entertainments of the night and day ;
wane ail who had ever heard of the
Mystic Krewe, waited patiently all dav
and a pait oi tae night to see this mys
terious procession rapidly defile through
the streets of our city. No one, who
nas not witnessed our streets on this oc
casion, caii form an adequate idea of the
life, excitement and intense interest of
ti.e vast throngs that surge along the side
walks, foam across the streets, dash
against the sides ot the houses and over
flow the galleries and balconies ; and all
this turbulency only to catch a glimpse
or tnat mighty Crew who spring up
Lom the earth somewhere about nine
o clock, P. M., flash along through the
crowded populace in Eastern pomp and
sp.endor, on;y to shine for a few T brief
hours on the Stage of the Theatre, and
teen disappear as suddenly and mys
teriously as though Mother Earth had
opened her arms and taken them back
to aer heart again. It is really a won
der that so few accidents take" place on
this day, when every window, gallery,
and door-way is packed with eager,
watchers. But one is reported
ii3 having been at all serious on last
Tuesday night. The hanging gallery
over P. Christian’s Stationery Store,
came loose from its iron fastenings and
slid its unconscious freight heavilv upon
the ground. One lady, it is stated, had
her leg bro Ken. wnile five or six other
persons were badly bruised and wounded,
it is sad that any accident should hap
pen on a night oi such universal merry
making ; but we should be grateful that
no loss of life has to be recorded either
by accident or design.
It is now an established and honorable
fact that New Orleans can support a
Catholic journal. The Morning Star
celebrated its first Anniversary last week
by giving a very substantial and elegant
entertainment to its patrons. It has
increased its size, and added an additional
column to each page. It is really a
most excellent paper, well edited, and
tun oi good, sound matter. A paper
tnat makes no high-flown pretentions,
but modestly does its work and does it
V'elc. W ithout anything meteor-like in
its composition, it is destined to shine
on steadily and bright, an ornament to
our City and a source of pride and pleas
ure to the people.
Changes are still going on in the
f nurches around us. In Bouligny there
have been already so many, that it is
nothing new to chronicle still another.
Fathers Beecher and Lavissene are to be
removed (it is reported,) and Father
Landry has been sent to fill some of the
vacant chairs. It is very hard to lose
our friends so often, but Mother Church
knows best, and acts always wisely.
Father Duffy, the great father Duffy,
great because of the attachment of his
people and his long and close connection
with them, has gone away for an indefi
nite period. The quantity of tears shed
on this occasion, could they have been
crystalized i:i precious stones, would
have paved the whole of his way from
St. Alphonsus’ Church to his place of
destination. Rev. Father Burke, who is
to take his place, is daily expected from
Annapolis.
We went to the top of our Grain
Elevator a few days since, and realized
that we were much higher up ia the
world than we had ever expected to be.
You have already had a long description
of this monument of generous industry
and hopeful enterprise on the part of Mr.
Higby, so I will add nothing more ; but
speak only of the view had from our
lofty position. The truth is, our City is
too fiat to present a very pleasing pic
ture, and were it not for our great
river, there would be nothing to say of
the scene below us. On its bosom, how
ever, there was variety and beauty, life
and enterprise. Kiver steamers, ascend
ing and descending, carrying each its
biack scroll of smoke, which, streaming
towards Heaven, seemed to show what
ought to be the tendency of all things
human—whether in spiritual or materia!
aesigns. Square-rigged vessels receiv
ing their rich cargoes of Southern pro
duce for all parts of the world ; the
busy little tugs, with huge tows of grain
barges, lumber rafts, coal-boats, etc., etc.,
and the numerous yawls that shoot in
5