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VOIi. 11. For the Banner of the South. The Mermaids. BY S. K. PHILLIPS. Wfcat a merry time the Mermaids have, In their palace under the sea; Never a night but they gaily meet, In their dainty halls where their happy l'eet, Keep time to the ocean’s minstrelsy. High over all, on a diamond throne, With a sceptre in her jewel’d hand, Kits the queen of the realm in royal state, While brilliant trains of mermaids wait, And watch for her command. Like Venice of old, their palace homes, By waters are girt about, But Venice ne’er saw in her proudest day, Such festive scenes,—such a bright array, Os barges gliding in and out. No monarch of earth can boast such things, As bedeck their palace halls,— The mystic touch of a master’s hand, Ne’er painted a picture fit to stand, By those that adorn its walls. Saphire, ruby, and mother-of-pearl, In rich mosaics cover the floors, While gossamer curtains of strangest dies, Give a tinge like that of Italian skies, To the gilding over the doors. Pilasters and columns of coral made, Its shell-lined dome up-bear, While Corinthian cornice of gold in I'rost. Kecalling the arts the ancients lost, Circle the ceilings everywhere. Silence reigns thro’ the corridors, When they sing their ocean airs, And never a mortal ear hath heard.— And never a human heart been stirr’d, By music as sweet as theirs. Only the winds from temperate zones, As they pass o’er fields of flowers, Caii compare with the strange, sweet melody, ’-That fills with a chasten'd ecstaey, Their swiftly gliding hours. They know no cares like we mortals do; They never have known a pain; Even the storms that sweep the ocean’s breast, Serve only to rock them sweetly to rest, V\ hence they wake to joy* again. Selma, Ala. For the Banner of the South. THE LAST OAYS OF CARTHAGE; OR A SISTER OF FABIOLA. AFTER THE MANNER OF THE FRENCH. CHAPTER I. THE MESSAGE. It was towards evening. The sun was near its decline, and a soft breeze gdided lightly over the blue waters that washed found the proud and happy Carthage Horne had been its enemy and had sought ibs ruin by the force of arms. But its time had not yet arrived, and it was still called “alter Home the glory and pride of the world/’ The day, as we have re marked, was fast drawing to a close, and the inhabitants were rapidly filling the avenues that led along the coast. The most delicious fruits grew in abundance along the way, and the dark foliage of the tig and olive formed a shade almost impervious to the sun. As the crowd passed along subjects of divers kinds termed the subject of conversation, spoke of commerce, and of the ar- ! ,ul °1 so many vessels within their ■moors; others spoke of politics and grew animated in recounting the resist ame oi their people to the eucroachments Numerous battles had been 1 'l‘ght, and deeds of prowess had given prestige to their arms. Feelings of Na- pride filled their hearts and they ready to sacrifice all for the inde pendence of their country. The grand- M 0 burthage was before their minds, i a the names of Annibal and Ganna; wo i 1 * U lc^r memor ies. But there ere ot iers again that were occupied v a subject totally different. There anew religion, mysterious in its i nn untl austere in its laws. It had t! & *, or two ceQ turies had triumph , ‘ UKr j lie clforts of science and the j. * U j r Cmsars. Though perse on every side, it had penetrated (<• ! l ltJ bosoms of families of the higli j,i; l,r^er > au d had made its influence be X j Ucli among the members of the ° ‘iiate. a inediey of topics engaged the ' L *‘ e £ r °up s that strolled along the avenues. The rich cargoes that had arrived at their shores and the increasing’ prosperity oi their trade—the grandeur of their city—the formidable rival of Rome, and the memorable deeds of their generals; and dually the superhuman struggles of the Nazarenes against the strength of popular ideas, and an effect ive opposition on the part of the ruling power There was one individual who walked alone. He had chosen the borders of that famous aqueduct which brought water into the city from the steep and rugged mountains that arose: far in the distance. He was clad in a long cloak after the manner of those who were termed “phil osophers. ’ His countenance bore the marks of study, though they still retain ed the vigor and freshness of maturity. He appeared absorbed in deep reflection and unmindful of the beauties of nature he was treading under foot. The things of this world, it would seem, were too trivial for his attention; thoughts of the soul alone were a subject worthy of the mind. He was tall and well formed, and the regular coutour of his features and his masculine deportment wore that majesty which is inspired by virtue and by self-control. But that sweet serenity which attracts the affections of the heart, was absent. His forehead was high and his hair fell loosely and in large curls over his shoulders. His eye was bril liant. and penetrating and in it shone the beauty and power of his noble genius. Now and then his gaze wore a sombre look and would indicate perhaps the ap proach of some storm that was preparing in the depths of his soul. It might be said that there was something superhu man in his character and appearance. He seemed to be possessed of a nature dif ferent from the generality of mankind and to be free from their frailty and weakness. There w r as something in him which appeared to extend the limit, of virtue and to recall the purity of the angels in the children of Adam, and the sanctity of heaven in this world of mise ry and sin. His moral strength was perhaps all but invincible, and if lie were ever called to stiuggle with temptation, it would be as the lion playing with the lamb, bor him to communicate the in terior operations of his being, it would require another medium than that of language, another eloquence than that which is human, for the expression of his elevated ideas. If lie were asked what he desired od earth, he would reply “nothing,” and point above as the term of his ambition. This man was Tertulliau. I here was a street which led from the aqueduct to the citadel. It was lined with houses of sumptuous magnificence. Numbers of slaves stood at the doors or were grouped together on the galleries, awaiting the return of their masters. Songs of the most joyous kind, accom panied with the harp or guitar, resound ed everywhere and were wafted in deli cious melody upon the evening air. The theatres were numerous and superb and the public baths were built of the most precious marble and adorned with the most elegant scnlptury. It was the quarters to which resorted the most fash ionable part of the population and was the dwelling place for what might be called the aristocracy. Fronting the street stood the imposing facade and magnificent brass gates of the temple dedicated to Juno. The floor was inset with the most precious stones, and glit tered with all the tints of the rainbow. The interior was spacious, and its area was surrounded with huge columns sup porting the dome which towered aloft like the vault of heaven. The inhabi tants regarded thisstupenduous monument with feelings of pride and exultation, and spared jio pains to make it rival in costly magnificence the grandeur of the Roman Capitol. Tertullian had turned from the borders ot the aqueuuct and was passing along AUGUSTA, GA., MARCH 20, 1869. this way. He surveyed everything as he went along. He saw in all this grandeur naught but the manifestations of woidiy pride, and he accordingly con templated what he suw with feelings of contempt and disdain. The theatre at tracted his attention. The paleness of his countenance gave way to a crimson blush as he thought of the immoral represen tations that gathered together there the voluptuous and corrupteapf the city. He passed on and presently came to the tem ple. The High Priest clothed in his pontifical robes, and attended by his ministers, was descending the steps at the grand portal. Tertullian stood still and watched him for a time. His features once mure resumed their pallid color. The convulsive trembling of his entire frame and his darkened sul len look indicated that his sympathies were not there. Suddenly he advanced and placing himself proudly before the gate of the temple, muttered in a bitter tone: “Oh! sacrilegious idols! how long will ye be allowed to insult Christ, my God? Y\ hen shall my eyes behold the cross rise triumphant over the debris of your scat tered, ruins ?” Happily the Pontiff did not either hear or understand him, for those that accompanied him would have torn the “blasphemer’’ to pieces, and per haps it would have been the signal fur commencing a persecution against all the Christian Churches of Africa. Tertul lian pursued his way, and in a few mi nutes came to a house inhabited by wealthy people, judging from its princely appearance. A Nubian slave opened the door to admit him. This dwelling, which had recently been constructed, was composed of sev eral distinct parts. There was the par ticum, built of the purest marble. The atrium, a sort of court, was surrounded with arcades supported by pillars of dif ferent kinds of stone, among which shone with greatest raagnificenco the glittering alabaster. Representations of flowers and of all that was beautiful in nature were sculptured along the sides and im- parted an air of vitality to that peculiar form of architecture. Luxury seemed to have exhausted its ingenuity in the decorations of the different apartments. Rich soft carpets inwrought with the most complicated and beautiful designss cover ed the floors. Chandeliers of plated gold hung from the ceiling, and statues of the most exquisite workmanship, represent ing the heroes of the nation, or the re markable personag :s of the family, stood like living realities in every available place. Paintings such as to equal those of more modern times were suspended on the walls, and vases of flowers filling the air with the most delicious fragrance, reposed on tables carved into the most fantastic shapes and formed of wood brought from the far Last. Tapestries of various colors hung around, and were ornamented with family devices and cu rious hieroglyphics, recalling to the differ ent members of the household, the me morable deeds of their ancestors. Em broideries of gold and silver formed the curtains that fell loosely and in graceful folds over the couches and figures, the embodiment of pure ideal conceptions, wrought in ivory and mounted with the most precious metal, served as fastenings to these rich and delicate structures. The climate here is hot and an artificial coolness is sought to be produced by the formation of deep reservoirs, filled with the clearest water. In the centre of the court there was a large fountain supplied by one of these basins, and the ardors of the noon-day sun were tempered by the cool vaporous atmosphere that arose in clouds from this troubled lake. Such was the mansion into which Tertullian had been conducted by the Nubian slave. In one of the inner apartments was a young lady, softly reclining upon a couch and holding in her arms an infant. She was gazing silently upon it, and a smile of complacency played upon her lips. Her attention seemed totally absorbed with the object before her, so that she did not feel aware of the stranger’s ap proach. Never did she appear more to advantage. Her features were of an ex treme delicate paleness, and youth and beauty were personified in her graceful form. There was no haughtiness of ex pression in her look, but on the contrary every movement was graced with a sweet air of modesty. It was evident that she belonged to the new religion which elevates and purifies the female heart. I>ut she had not yet been fully initiated into its mysterious depths, nor was her mind sufficiently enlightened as to its veritable spirit. She was virtuous and chaste, but she was far from disdaining the arts of luxury and wordly ostenta tion. She was clad in robes of the most costly material. Gold bracelets adorned her wrists and a chain of coral, display ing a curiously wrought clasp in front, was suspended around her neck. Her attire was in harmony with the elegance of her apartments, and it was not diffi cult to see that she had not yet entered into the true spirit of the Christian faith. “Vivia Perpetua, for 1 dare not call you by the name of sister, much less by that of daughter, Yivia, do you recog nize me ?’’ And the voice of Tertullian trembled with emotion. “Why that severe word, Father?” an swered the young lady, rising quickly from the couch. “In what have I de served your anger that you shoul treat me with a severity that I have not as yet experienced among the Christians, my new brethren ? Oh! do not deprive me of that happiness which God has given me but rather bless the happv mother and her innocent babe.” And she knelt at his feet and presented him her infant. “May he from whom all paternity de rives its name, in heaven aud on earth, bless you and your child. You ask me, Vivia, why my language is severe; Vi via, why I did not call you by the name of sister, by that name which the Christian Priest loves to give to the children of the true God. In, entering your room, I have beheld nothing but the luxury and ornaments of a pagan house. Look around you, audit is doubt less here that you meditate upon that holy law which you have promised to embrace; it is here that you study the life of that God who has descended" upon the earth to save you! Here , that you adore and pray! here , Vivia!” “Yes, father, it is thus. But it is a place dear to me, for it is here where for six months I have lived alone in the ab sence of my beloved husband, and where my .sad solitude has only been re lieved by the presence of this sweet in fant; and it is here, too, where I can re call the pious instructions which I have received from you and from other vener ated masters of the Lord. Believe me Father, believe the words of your hum ble child. Here I have shed tears of gratitude for the blessing of perceiv ing the falsity of the ancient religion and of being brought to the threshold of the house of God. And this infant which you have called an angel is a wit ness that, often I have bent to the ground and poured forth the deepest effusions of my soul, asking the grace to be purified in the salutary waters of Baptism, even should my blood be demanded in return for this mysterious regeneration!” “Take care, \ ivia, presumption, the offspring of pride, has, 1 am afraid, taken possession of your heart. We have many evidences of the evil resuls of pre sumption, one of which is nothing less than apostacy. Before you have entered into the contest you proudly defy all kinds of sufferings, and even the tor tures ol death! But these riches, in which you seem to take so much delight, , are more than sufficient to enervate and weaken the heart of a young Neophyte. And that infant in which you centre all your affection—looking forward to its first smile with all the devotedness of a ten- der mother—of that infant which you s*em to idolize— that infant ! Oli! spare me! Father spare me! do not break the heart of the frail crea ture that you see before you, and who now implores your pity! oh! it is true my child is dearer to me than all the world beside. The very thought of being separated from it pierces my heart with a sword of grief. Nevertheless, rather than deny the religion in which I believe and which I am going to embrace, 1 would consent—yes, I would consent to leave my beloved a wandering orphan upon the earth. If this sacrifice is asked of me, I trust, I shall receive a corres ponding strength to pass nobly through the ordeal.” She could say no more. An unearthly pallor suffused itself over her beautiful countenance as she fell back upon the lounge. Tears coursed down her cheeks, and seizing her infant in her arms, she folded it convulsively to her bosom. Tertullian was overcome, but suddenly accusing himself of a weakness un worthy of his character he resumed: ivia, I suspect not the sincerity of your protestations, but we are all mortal, aud the heart of man is even for himself an abyss full of mystery. I know that you have not forgotten your promises, that you still desire to go on with the good works you have begun, and that you seek for strength at that fountain head whence all graces flow. But if you had understood the spirit of that divine faith into which you ask to be initiated, why this scandalous display of luxury which is opposed to humility and Chris tian modesty ? From the moment that woman has the happiness of renouncing the worship of the gods and of turning her gaze towards the true sun of justice, wordly pride and its outward manifesta tions do not exist for her. The most beautiful simplicity is visible in her attire as well as in the decoration of her apart ments. It is thus that she expresses the griet and repentance of the first mother of her sex, and it is thus that she en deavors to expiate what she has re ceived from her i e the shame of prevari cation and the part she hud had in the fall of humanity. Vivia, the justice of God weighs heavily upon woman. Eve, driven forth from that delicious garden in which her first happy days were passed, contented herself with garments which the hand of God had woven, but for you, the purple of Tyre, the rich wools of Milet, the precious embroideries of Ba bylon, the glitter of oriental diamonds, gold brought from afar to satisfy your vanity, and mirrors of silver to flatter you by the eclat of a gaudy plumage, which is not your own ! Do you know that this empty display belongs to those who still fall down before the pedestals of idols and worship them as their gods ? Those riches with which your attention is so much engaged, have not been given you to satisfy the caprices of your fancy. The giver has had a more noble end in view. lie desires that you should repre sent his providence. Around you are those who have been stricken with pover ty and have not where with to satisfy the necessities of life. Leave aside, Vivia, all those vain ornaments, which are only fit to be worn by pagans, and make a more noble use of that opulence which has fallen to your lot. Give bread to the famished crowd that gather on your doorsteps—clothe those whose ragged garments scarcely protect them from ex posure. Redeem the captives, and send alms to your brethern who, for con fessing the faith, have been mercilessly deprived of all their possessions. You will then have earned a blessing for your self, for many a wound will be healed and many a tear be spared.” Vivia had listened with patience and docility to the severe words of Tertul lian. For the first time she began to reflect seriously upon the inutility of her luxurious mode of living, and she ex perienced regret that she had ISTo. 1.