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VOL. 11. Dear Little Pattering Feet. BY NTILLA. I love the sv.-eet music discoursed by the brook, The wind and the murmuring sea; And of art, though ’tis taken from Nature’s book, For they sing, mighty Father, of Thee; jiut, ah! there's no music in glen or in glade To me that is half so sweet As the blest little home-notes that only are piaytd By dear little pattering feet. Tis a music that wafts on the winga of pure love The heart to its Maker on high; It softens the sorrows and hallows the love Os all ’neath the o’er arching sky; And it lovingly weaves in the dull* warp of life Bright scenes that are lasting and sweet. Oh! rainbows of love, in the dark sky of strife, Ore these dear littl e pattering feet. Oh ! dearest of sounds ! su re, angels above Never heard sweeter msjsic than this; Every fairy-like note breathes such volumes of love That the heart is enraptured with bliss. Let nature and art sing their choicest of song/; To me they can never compete With the pit-a-pat music that only belongs To dear little pattering feet. — Household. For the Banner of the South. THE LAST DAYS QF CARTHUGE; OR A SISTER OF FABIOLA. AFTER THE MANNER OF THE FRENCH. CHAPTER VII. [continued] “ I here was likewise au arena where confessors were brought to contend with the wild lions from the deserts of Nu rnidia. It was to be an exciting specta cle for the people who were thirsting for the blood of the Christians. But the ferocious animals instead of bounding on their prey in obedience to their savage instincts, approached in a crouching atti tude unu licked the feet of these servants '■l ( md. i here was one young man, not yet twenty years old, who stood erect in the aiena. Id is forehead was lofty and proud and a smile of celestial joy played on his lips. He held out his arms in the form of a cross and prayed. Three times the wild beasts rushed furiously towards him but, as if overcome by seme invisi ble power, they held back and crouched in the attitude of fear. The intrepid malty continued praying, as if he was insensible to everything around him, and his lips were still trembling to bring forth the last accents of his love, when he fell beneath the stroke of a sword. One day a young woman was brought he.ore the tribunal of Aquila. She was dressed as a slave, but her delicate hands and noble features indicated a noble ori gin. Bhe fearlessly confessed that she was a Christian and that she was ready to confirm her faith by whatever torture they might inflict. The Governor spoke to her at first "’ith calmness and promised her her li heriy and an alliance which would pro cure her all the gifts of fortune if she would abjure the faith of the Christians. "Lose no time,” she replied haughtily o your duty.' My only spouse is Christ tue Nnv?our.” V-eize that insolent slave!” cried burning with rage at the cour ot, thc voung woman before his tribunal. They tore the veil from her face, and Y , ,ni r«dcntly into that sweet face T a wa « 11 ow crimson with a holy mo ej was however nothing daunt “l despise your gods and your infa ti. * oi esses - l am a Christian and «ait T” 10 * 101 ° f Christ! "*hy do you “i l.cse words uttered with such rehe :,;„ u a,:J courage irritated still more h wetwtoners. They fell upon her ' , e t’°cious tigers ot the woods and Shi lcr whole hod y ran down with blood, be* i V; .‘ s P lerccd on every side and her u Otul countenance was lacerated with cvm! P () j nted irons. It soon became Ul ! l . tbat nature was giving way. A ; a > lve trembling seized her frame, o!n , Kr ./ ;d * en an d hueltss lips were : f lf >' r spirit had departed. But SUddtn, y they opened and the words “blessed are they who are called to the marriage of the Lamb,” were uttered in the feeble accents of her agonizing soul. “They allowed her some respite, hut this was only* to have the pleasure of putting her to the torture once more. They brought her hack to prison. They were not without hope. Perhaps over come by suffering, she might sacrifice to the gods. Put they knew not the strength of that grace which is given to martyrs. She had but one regret. Her sacrifice was deferred. It would, how- ever come sooner or later, and then her days of trial would be over and she would' be admitted into the presence of the Sa viour for whom she died. Her wounds were still bleeding, and she took her veil to stop the blood while she continued praying for grace to continue even to the end. “1 he next morning she was auain brought before the Governor, and she "was immoveable in her determination to re main a Christian; he condemned her to be thrown naked into a cauldron of boil ing pitch. “A tear glistened in the eye of the gentle virgin. Why should she be I stripped of her garments? “0, noble Aquila !” she cried, falling on her knees and holding up her joined hands in the attitude of supplication; ”0 noble Aqui la, change that sentence 1 I conjure you in the name of thy mother—of thy chaste wife, briitg me not to shame. I fear not the pain of martyrdom. lean tear my self from my mother’s arms and can be hold my sisters weeping. I can with stand the agony of a loving father and part with them all, but I cannot brave a a death like that. 0! spare me to res pect the modesty of my sex.” As she finished she pressed her bands convul sively to her face and bent her noble form to the ground. “Aguila was ton died with her solemn and earnest appeal and immediately gave orders that she should be executed as she stood. Basilide was charged with the execution. “Basilide paid her the greatest defer ence along the way to the place where she was to be executed, and protected her from the insolence of the crowd that pressed around them. “Thanks,” she repeated several times to Basilide, “I ap preciate your kindly services and when I am in Heaven, I shall pray for the grace of your conversion.” Arrived at the appointed place, she knelt down and prayed for forgiveness for all who perse cuted the Church. She thought of her past life with its admixture of joys and sorrows, and felt somewhat glad that her career had come to a close. Finally her attention became absorbed in the reward which was promised those who had will ingly given up their life for the faith. The brilliancy of thc crown was too much for her mental eye to gaze upon and she turned from it lost in.an ecstacy otjoy She arose, and approached the edge of the cauldron, and raising her hands to Heaven—perhaps again for for giveness for her enemies, perhaps for grace to pass nobly through the ordeal, she disappeared with a plunge beneath the surface ol the boiling clement. Thus passed away that fair young creature, whose weak and tender form, was but a poor exponent of the strength and firm ness ot her soul. She was illumined with supernatural virtues, and the grace of God was poured upon her spirit in rich profusion I>cioi e ncr deatn she received from my hands the adorable Sacrement of the body and blood of thc Lord. When she had made her thanksgiving she came to me and addressed me in these words : “Priest of thc Lord. I am goin<r now to leave a world in which I have tound scarcely anything but sorrow. 1 en\e not bt-en born in poverty and sla- Y ei Y* i spent my earlier year- with a rich relation and with a beloved sister, it y tnought of whom makes me shed tears at a moment when I should AUGUSTA, GA., APRIL IT, 1869. | give all my thoughts to God. I was j stolen by pirates and brought to Alex andria. They sold me as a slave. I I vvr as converted by my master and for the first time heard the name of the Christ ian God. The Bishop of Alexandria accorded me the favor I asked ot him and I was admitted into the Church. ; He gave me that veil which I wore when j I appeared before the Governor. Ten ! JGhi’s have passed and I have still re j tained for my celestial spouse that faith to which I had sworn at the foot of the iabernaele. I was afterwards denoun ced to the Governor as a Christian, but God was by my side and I had the coutage to confess his holy name and now I shall soon receive fr*m his hands the palm of victory. Pray far me, Father, lest at that solemn hour my faith should fail. Bless me again, for your blessing falls upon me like the dew of Heaven. Father when I am about to die, 1 shall look for you in the crowd. Bless me then again “When [ am gone, no one will shed a tear over my grave, except perhaps one She is a noble patrician of Carthage. ,°ije was the beloved sister and friend of youth. She saw me stolen by the pirates. Her name is Julia. Metliinks I hear her piercing cries, and see her fall fainting into the anas of her attend ant. If ever you should meet her, Father, let her know tb;i.t her dear Po tamiena died thinking of her, and please give her this veil covered over as it is, with my blood. Let, her keep it as an earnest of my true and never dying af fection. She is pci haps still a pagan, but I hope with the grace of Heaven, she may not die without the happiness of knowing the true God !” thus the A enerable Bishop termina ted the interesting account of his adven tures. Often his trembling accents be trayed the emotion of his heart and a tear coursed down his cheek as lie re lated the last moments of the young vir gin martyr. But when Julia advanced towards him and knelt at his knees to receive the blood-stained veil of her be loved Potamiena, he was overcome. He blessed it as a precious relic before he gave it to her. She received it with re verence from his hands and kissed it over and over again. She would have testified her gratitude to the holy Pon tiff and expressed to him what mingled feelings of happiness and grief she ex perienced, but her emotion choked her utterance, and she retired in silence. Thanks were rendered to God and the meeting broke up, each one withdrawing homeward. The next day the aged pa triarch left the City to return to Jeru salem in order to resume the govern ment ot his Church. * CHAPTER Mil. THE SLIEPHERD OP THE MOUN TAINS. Afer, the slave of jubal, pursued his way through the solitary streets of the city, and before the rays of the morning Sun had illumined the horizon he was far on towards the camp. He was accustomed to climb the most rugged and iuaccessible mountains, to swim the most swiftly flowing rivers, so that for a journey of that kind, a better choice could not have been made. He continued on at a rapid pace while his mind was absorbed upon the important object of his mission. Thc reward was great. He would have gold enough to live in ease and quietness for the remain der of his days, and would be enabled to enjoy it in all the freedom of a noble pa trician. He would revisit his native for ests and wander with unshackled feet over the immense solitudesof his native land. He would then forget the chains and slavery of Carthage, and if, per chance the thought might return to dis turb his rest, he would glory in the idea that it was but an empty thing of the past. He would chase the lion and the tiger, and lead the v T ild romantic life of | his daring ancestors. These reflections ' made his heart beat with joy, and lent vigor and suppleness to his wearied limbs. Night came on and he was obliged to halt as the road was not well marked over those rude and rocky places. It was a necessity and he sought out some concealed recess, and there he lay down and was soon buried in a deep re pose. h | The second day saw him well on to wards the camp, but his brow was some what clouded, and it might be said that courage had left his heart. From time to time he would step, and as he brought Ins trembling hand to his forehead, an excessive agitation would seize his frame and his faltering knees were scarcely able to support him. The expression of I his countenance grew darker and darker, and the convulsive tremor of his colorless lips showed the deep emotion that op pi essed his soul. \\ hat was passing within him? Was it remorse ? he that was so long hardened to every sort of crime. Was it cowardice ? ho whose poignard was already dripping with the blood of his former victims. lie was indeed accustomed to deeds of this kind. He struck without resent ment, when his only motive was a smile i them his masters cr the promise of a sum lof gold. lie was however, not without a considerable share of prudence. His craft besides could baffle the wisest of his enemies, and in these points he excelled as much as he did in the arts of villainy. Accordingly he was not the man to com promise himself by acting prematurely, or committing any rash or ill-considered crime. He was now not far from the camp, and in proportion as the danger in creased, his usual calm composure and tranquil judgment returned. “That im- petuous Jubal! - ’ lie thought; what have 1 promised ? What have I undertaken ? Let him wait a little longer, and if he asks me why I have held b,ack, I will con tent him by assuring him of my fidelity to his cause; and that the time for ven geance has not yet come.” The moment the slave began to reflect he grew terrified. Should he return to Carthage and expose himself to the anger of his master ? Besides, the soldier wi>om he had to select as his victim, was valiant and strong. Ho was a chief too, general of the army, and consequently surrounded perpetually by a formidable escort. How could he approach him ? Find him asleep ? ridiculous! And what if he could penetrate unobserved into his tent, how could he plunge the dagger into his heart without alarming the sur rounding guards ? Sinister and unwelcome visions formed themselves before the vivid imagination of the trembling slave He saw him self dragged in chains before a high tri bunal and threatened with being put to torture if he would not confess the de tails of the assassination. The sentence which would condemn him to death al* ready rang in his ears, and it might be said that lie suffered in anticipation the agonies of exeeution, His breast heaved with pain and thick drops of sweat ran down his haggard cheeks, his limbs re fused to sustain him, and the once coura geous Afer sank to the ground discon certed, exhausted and overcome. After ail he was a coward. He lay motionless for some time, and had any one passed by at the time, he would have said that life had departed. At length, however, lie manifested symp toms of returning consciousness, and exerted his remaining strength in crawl ing under the shade ot a tree to protect himself from thc ardors of the noonday sun. “I will go no farther,” he said; “for I have cherished hopes that were vain, de ceitful, and absurd. Liberty! Gold! What would be the use of all the liberty he could give me, if I were laden with chains and condemned to die tine death of an assassin? Ah! I had forgotten! I have gold in my belt. I should be a | fool indeed if I went back to Carthage.” His eyes began to get heavy again as he continued in soliloquy. He stretched himself out at full length and with the image ot Jubal, \ ivia‘s husband, guards daggers, and felon’s chains, dancing in wild confusion before his excited fancy, lie fell asleep once more. Afer took no precaution against beino [overheard in the vast solitude of the desert. He had lain there for some time and not even a blade of grass had moved in the breathing of the mild and gentle sephytL Put scarcely had he closed his eyes when, hearing someone approach, h* hounded up like a lion that the arrow of the hunter had pierced while Ivin 2 in his den. 0 An old man stood before him. He was* a shepherd. He gazed at Afer silently and without altering his usual composure. His steadiasfc look would lyem to indicate that lie knew him, or that his countenance revived for him the reminiscences of the past. “If I mistake not,” he said at length* “thou art Afer.” Afer clutched his dagger as he ap proached the old man. “What is it to thee? get thee gone to thy herds or by the gods! ’ — Hold! Thou art Afer. I know thee. Moreover thou and I are long acquainted. Thou hast forgotten me, but it could not be otherwise, for sorrow increased by the infirmities of old age has changed me. Dost thou not remember poor Sylvain, the slave of llano ? ’ “I remember Sylvain! Sylvain! may the gods be propitious to thee! Ah I can not erase from memory those nights of pleasure* Those games—- “Kecall not those sad remembrances— at least they arc sad tor me. Happiness for me is past. All joy upon this earth is gone, unless indeed—but come into my tent. I heard all. Tliou wert speak ing of Jubal, whom, no doubt, thou wert charged to assassinate. Can I aid thee ? I have no need of g >ld what should I do with it ? But my heart thirsts for ven geance! Yes, vengeance!” and the eye of the old man flashed with tire so as to make the slave tremble with fear. A moment after they were both seated in the tent. An old female slave bent down with age served them with some thing to eat. Presently she retired to attend to her herds. “Now we can speak,” began Sylvain; “for the old woman Faturaa will not re turn before night. Afer, conceal nothing from me. It is useless. I have beard all. I have listened to tbee and treasured every word as they fell from thy lips. Thou art on thy way to the camp to slay Jarbas and take revenge for thy master. Fear not, I will not betray thee. I have told thee that the desire for vengeance has left me no repose day nor night. I have never been offended by the hus band of Yivia. As far as I know lie may be good and generous towards his slaves, but she ! Oh! if my dagger could only reach her heart, I would die happy! Ah! ah!” and the withered features of thc shepherd assumed a fiendish grin, while liis palsied hands trembled still more with convulsive agitation. “To strike him whom she loves, to sever the ties of the family, and deprive her for ever of that joy she f els in his company, is not that to strike her herself and pierce her heart with a thousand daggers ? Ah! i feel the sweets of vengeance by antici pation, and my heart distends at the cher ished thought. Say, Afer, wilt thou aid me? Give ine thy hand and thou shalt have nothing to regret.” “Sylvain, 1 understand not thy strange language. I thought thou wort happy and I even envied thy lot. Thou art free. Thou breathest the fresh air of these lofty mountains and thy docks sup ply thy wants. “Liberty! pure air of the hills! my flocks! There was once a time when these blessings would have made me happy, but now, alas! they have no TSTo. 5.