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8
ihe Jest
For the Banner of tho South.
Our Confederat ead.
by mbs. a. l. M'GEE.
Come, muse of history, come with me,
And your delighted eyes -shall see,
How'proud a structure we can boast —
The Temple of our loved, and lost.
Its deep foundations laid in right,
Hurl back the shock of fiendish might;
Its finely polished columns rise
In grandeur to our Southern skies.
What forms are those within the sane ?
A brave, unsullied, noble train;
With garments dyed in patriot gore,
Whose names shall live forevermore.
Come, Clio ! nib your pen anew,
The fairest pages wait for you ;
Now dip it deep in molten gold,
And Southern heroes’ deeds unfold.
See Johnston, near the pinnacle,
And all his deeds of valor tell;
. See Jackson with his pious soul,
Whers waves of glory round him roll.
Brave Garnett’s shield a jewel wears,
Still brighter than the name he bears;
And on our Polk the surplice shines,
With brilliant gems from heavenly mines.
Give gallant Stuart, in words of flame,
Justitia’s wreath around his name;
A liner line for Pelham now,
A younger laurel for his brow:
The swift and strong McCulloch bounds
From place to place on golden rounds,
Until he mounts a splendid height,
And wings the martyr's starry flight.
Ashby is but synonyma
For gallant Southern chivalry.
But, stop! I will not call each name,
Its record is eternal Fame.
Ye muses! drop a laurel wreath,
On every bleak and barren heath,
Where lie the humblest of our braves,
La glory’s consecrated graves.
Upon our gallant seamen’s crest,
Let everlasting honors rest;
For ceaseless waves their requiem toll,
In thunder-tonas from Pole to Pole.
Like treasures in the ocean’s bed,
So are our precious unknown dead,
The casket we may never find,
But in our heart the gem’s enshrined.
Urania with divinest notes,
And crown of stars, in azure floats,
Goddess of melody divine !
Your strains must mingle now with mine.
Come ! marshal all the spirit-throng,
With Freedom’s noblest, sweetest song,
Then crown them with the hero’s plume,
And hang immortelles on their tomb.
From these bright pages let us learn
How deeds of valor glow and burn;
Apollo rises like a dream
And gilds them with a radiant beam.
The record is so dazzling bright
Our vision cannot bear the sight;
Stop, Clio ! veil your dewy eyes,
Its lustre shiues beyond the skies.
[From the Morning News.]
MEMORIAL DAY AT SAVANNAH
DECORATION OF THE SOLDIER’S GRAVES.
“We care not whence they came,
Dear is their lifeless clay!
Whether unknown or known to fame
Their cause and country Btill tho same—
They died—and wore the gray.’’
Fatheb Ryan.
Yesterday afternoon the graves of the
Confederate dead in the Laurel Grove
and Cathedral Cemeteries were wreathed
in flowers by the ladies of Savannah,
thus testifying by this simple but holy
deed that those who fought for them
“though dead are not forgotten.”
In those graves sleep their last sleep
the men who by Lee, Johnson, Jackson
and Beauregard were led. There they
sleep without one stain upon their
escutcheons, without one blot upon their
names. Bravely and fairly did they do
a soldier’s part, Never carried they the
gleaming torch to destroy the home of
the unfortunate and helpless. Never
were wailing women and orphan chil
dren lett in their track to weep over a
home desecrated and ruined. No little
ones ever sobbed at mother’s knee for
food which had been destroyed by their
hands. Oh, no! thank God! no!
Theirs was not a war upon the defence
less; their weapons were only used
against open enemies and only a defence
of what they believed to he "the right.
And they fell—never more for the sound
or ine conflict to swell upon the ear and
ca.i them to their posts—no more to
aatoh neath the silent stars—no more
to sutler—no more to join in the “victor’s
proud hurrah,” but
“Wo will not wander to liie gloomy years
Through whose dark scenes we have so latelv
passed,
Where no soft beam of golden light appears
To gird the cloud of sorrow o’er them cast.
“Those things are but a solitude of graves,
Where love and memory pour their tears like rain,
And where in voiceless grief, the cypress waves,
Above the hearts which died for us in vain.
“The dead who died, as died that gallant throng,
To shield a cause which in their eyes was just,
Shall live enshrined in story and in "song,
While ages roll above their scattered dust.
“What though for them no marble shaft shall rise,
Time shall not see their sacred memory wane ;
Their scroll of fame, expansive as the skies,
Years hf oblivion shall corrode in vain.
“Heroic deeds are deathless, and they live
umnarred, while empires crumble in the dust
ihey master fame, and life and glory give
■to ‘storied urn and animated bust.’
•They rose no sculptured monument to tell
»,■»!*' r , e Spartan valor bloke the Persian sway,
' ir ,' ve know there nobly fought and fell *
Heroic men in ‘Old Plata's day.’ ”
AT LAUREL GROVE CEMETERY'.
About three o’clock the ladies and
children commenced to assemble, and
from that hour until six, notwithstanding
Uie slight shower of rain about five, the
crowd steadily increased. On either
sid« of the entrance there was a table
over which was a placard bearing the
following inscription: “For Our Dead
Heroes.” These tables were placed to
receive contributions of flowers to be
distributed. There was also on each
table a covered basket for contributions
of money to aid the Memorial Associa
tion in their efforts to care for and adorn
the spot made sacred by being the rest
ing place of the Southern dead.
The spot where the larger number of
graves are has been much improved
since last year. A neat and substantial
fence of iron, with stone posts, enclosed
the graves, which had been carefully
mounded, and the intervening spaces
cleared of all rubbish. In this enclo
sure the ladies and children first assem
bled, and bestowed their offerings of
love. After each grave had been deco
rated with flowers and boquets, wreaths
and crosses, the ladies scattered through
out the cemetery, and decorated other
graves of soldiers, either scattered about
in some corner of the grounds or in
private lots. Among those decorated
were the tombs of General Bartow, the
Postell brothers, Lieut. Branch, Adju
tant of the Bth Georgia, and the “nine
graves” of unknown soldiers.
This holy work was continued until
not one grave or tomb of a soldier had
been left undecorated, and then, as the
lowering clouds betokened a heavy
storm, the assemblage dispersed.
AT I’HE CATHEDRAL CEMETERY.
There was not as large a gathering at
this cemetery as at the other, but those
present interested themselves in the labor
of love as zealously as the others. The
graves were decorated, and also cleared
of all rubbish that had necessarily ac
cumulated and were arranged.
AT BONAVENTURE.
Bonaveuture, notwithstanding its dis
tance from the city, was graced by the pil
grimage of affection. Here lies the lamen
ted Frew, who lost his life in a cavalry
engagement at Brandy Station in August,
1863. He is the only member of the
Georgia Hussars whose remains- have
been brought here from Virginia. His
grave was beautifully decorated by his
comrades and commander, with the assis
tance of the ladies of their households.
We noticed also that the grave of Mr.
Benjamin Green, who saw service with
that company in Virginia, In the early
part of the war, had not been neglected
by the hands of affection which strewed
his grave most tastefully.
Several ladies, some of whom arc
natives of Savannah, now residing in
the interior, remembering their associa
tions, sent a tribute of flowers to deco
rate the graves of their defenders. From
Clinch, Lowndes, Ware, and other coun
ties along the line of the Atlantic and
Gulf Railroad, these ladies, and their
children too, sent down wreaths and bou
quets, through the kindness of Mr. John
C. Prendergast. As Mr. P. could not
be present on an occasion of so much
interest, he turned over all tho wreaths
and flowers to Capt. J. R. Fraser, who,
with the aid of his wife and daughters,
took pains to have them properly dis
played on the graves of the Confederate
dead, in which labor of love they exhibi
ted a commendable pride.
We cannot mention the names of all
those who thus honored the dead heroes,
but must mention one —the youngest of
them all—who sent her little offering
with this label attached :
MISS MARY E. SIKMANS,
(Four years old,)
Presented to the friends and relatives of
GENERAL FRANCIS S. BARTOW
“ The Illustrator*/ Georgia .”
Flowers grown in her own garden, Hornerv.ns, Clw.eli
county. Ga.
“Peace to the ashes of our noble dead,
For distant ages shall behold each name
Bright’ning like morning when the night is fled,
And ever brooding on the dise ot fame
“Farewell! ye high, heroic hearts, farewell !
Inspired lips shall teach tha world ere long.
Ye fought to hallow story, and ye fell
To give anew apocalvse to song i”
OH! STREW YOUR FLOWERS.
Oh! strew your flowers among the dead,
With laurel, and with bay,
And let their vernal fragrance shed
Sweet perfumes where they lay. ,
No living heroes claim the wreath
Os glory and of fame ;
’Tis theirs, w ho, sleeping cold ia death,
Partake not of our shame.
’Tis theirs, who freely shed their blood,
Their sunny land to save ;
While we with tears bedew the sod,
When* rest these heroes brave.
They are at rest, their battle’s o’er,
Their victory has been won ;
They’ll wear a crown forevermore,
For deeds so nobly done.
Then bring your flowers, your sweetest flowers,
Your laurel, and your bay,
And passing through our darkest hours,
Let’s hope for comiug day.
And while we wear the tyrant’s chains,
And they the laurel wear,
We feel that honor still remains,
And hope their blis3 to share.
We hope that Freedom’s day shall dawn,
Our country once more free ;
That while we shall our heroes mourn,
No longer slaves we’ll be.
Savannah, April 26, 1869. A. M. D.
Mill! ©I Ell
ADDRESS OF L- B- SHAVER. ESQ-
Before the Ladies' Memorial Associa
tion at Montgomry , April 26 th.
Ladies: I feel that it is a distinguish
ed honor to be permitted to occupy be
fore you my present position. While,
however, the honor is great, the respon
sibility is equally so. In proportion to
the interest of the subject, the sacred
ness and tlie solemnity of the spot, and
tho intelligence, beauty and refinement ot
the audience, is the burden of the speak
er. Such surroundings, such an occa
sion and so peerless an assemblage call
for no common place sentiment. Feeling
this very sensibly, Ladies, it was with
no little hesitatisn, that I accepted the
invitation extended me to address you
on this occasion. But as it is the mark
of a good soldier to obey promptly and
unquestioningly the commands of his
superior officer, though that command
summon him to certain death; so I hold
it to be the mark of a true man, to res
pond with alacrity, no matter how
great the risk, when his services are re-
quired by the ladies.
That respect and attention which it is
customary to pay to the remains and
burial places of the dead, is the prompt
ing of one of the noblest and most un
selfish instincts of our imperfect nature.
It is universal throughout all civilized
countries, and is felt in savage bosoms
and is exhibited in forms more or less
uncouth in lands covered with the pall
of barbarism. Being universal ,it was
divinely implanted, and must he noble
and exalted. It is unquestionably un
selfish, because there are no favors to be
asked of, no boons to ho granted by the
silent dead. When our relatives and
friends have “joined the innumerable
caarvan that moves to that mysterious
realm, where each shall take his chamber
in the silent halls of death,” they are
powerless to come to our rescue in any
temporal emergency.
Our fallen nature exhibits in its ruins
no more striking vestige ot that Godlike
image in which it was originally created,
than that tender care and fond solicitude
which we manifest for our departed loved
ones in our attention to their graves and
memories. When we see an urn con
stantly filled with fresh flowers by the
head of an humble grave, or the form of
a silent mourner stooping reverently
over in the lonely churchyard, we at
once see in this a mark of true devotion,
and recognize a remnant of the God-like
in man. If this instinct be so noble,
when called forth by love for our im
mediate relatives and friends, I think
you will agree with me that it assumes a
broader and still nobler aspect when ex
hibited towards the remains of our coun
try’s dead. That principle within us
which extends the range of our affections
beyond our own hearth-stones and circles
and causes us to enshrine upon the
altars of our hearts the length and
breadth of that which we esteem our
native laud, is but a higher development
and expansion of the love we bear those
most closely connected with us. He
who is without love of country is without
love of family, and hath no touch of ten
derness for his own mother. Love of
country is based upon and is but an ex
pansion of that love we bear our parents,
and kinsmen. The love of parents,
which is our primary instinct, expands
from parents to kindred, from kindred to
friends, from friends to country, and
finds its highest development in that
sublime adoration which wo owe the
Creator. Such being the ease, ladies,
vour Association lias for its object and
you are to-day engaged in the perfor
mance of one of the most binding, solemn
and exalted duties which it falls to the
province of man to discharge. Love of
country can in now way find a nobler
demonstration on the part of ladies than
in honoring the country’s dead. It mat
ters not in principle, that the cause of
what we esteemed our country has
proven thus far and received the epithet
of the “Lost Cause.” That fact should
render more hallowed the memories and
remains of its martyrs, and that fact is
conclusive evidence of the purity of the
devotion which animates you. If suceess
had crowned the banners under which
the n»w motionless heroes who sleep
around us once moved to the charge,
you would deserve comparatively little
credit for the zeal you manifest in dong
to their ashes honor; but having not
only fallen in the cause, but also failed
to secure that for which they fell, I feel
authorized in pronuncing your Associa
tion and its labors, monuments to that
unselfish, undying, and unspeakable
devotion, which is at once the crowning
glory and invariable index of true wo
manhood!
And, ladies, let me tell you, that your
pious efforts are not being put forth to
wards underselling objects. The Con
federate armies were the grandest bodies
of men, both morally and materially, that
ever moved to battle. Chivalry was
their controlling sentiment. It permeated
and animated all grades—from their
peerless old leader, Robert E. Lee ; down
to the most unpretending private in the
ranks. It was the reflection that they
were striking for the homes and liberties
and honor of their fair conntry-women,
which caused them to semi forth that
ringing cheer which ever preceded a
Confederate onset. They were mindful
of and did honor to you in the camp and
on the perilous edge of battle, and it is
but meet and proper that you should he
mindful of and do honor to them in their
graves. Not only on account of their
chivalry is it meet and proper that this
duty should be discharged by you, but
in the second place it is so, because they
moved to battle at your bidding. It is a
notorious fact which history will record
to your credit, that the ladies of the South,
with that intuitive perception of right
and wrong, which is one of their attri
butes, did much to precipitate the South
into that struggle for her rights which
has thus far, alas ! resulted so disas
trously. In the third place, it is emi
nently meet and proper that this duty
(the duty of honoring their remains)
should be undertaken by you, because
such heroes deserve the highest possible
earthly honor, and the respect and devo
tion of woman, which can proceed from
no other source than woman!
And now, in conclusion, ladies, I can
assure you that your labors are not un
appreciated—certainly by the survivors
of the Lost Cause, or by its martyrs, if
departed spirits be permited to take
cognizance of earthly affairs. The falien,
if such things be possible, are looking
upon you with gratitude and love, and
feel in the respect paid their memories
more than a recompense for their mar
tyrdom. And the survivors of the “Lost
Cause” are gazing upon you with their
natural eyes beaming with admiration,
and are inwardly, if not audibly, saying:
“If we too had fallen, our lives would
have been well sacrificed in the defense
of ladies so noble and true.”
Lecture —When we listened last
evening to Rev. A. J. Ryan, and looked
upuo his face so beaming with intellect,
so indicative of genius, and so reflective
of a heart full of geniality, and noble
generous impulses, we felt that not only
Irishmen, but that the South too had
just cause to be proud of him. His repu
tation as a scholar, poet, and orator, are
too familar to all for us to refer to him.
His polished eloquence, his beautiful
poetry, the glowing articles from his pen,
the warm interest taken by him in every
thing that concerns the cause of civil or
religious liberty, of education, or of
humanity, and his unwearied efforts in
promoting the success of all of them, and
his love of the South, these things are
all well known.
Asa matter of course we canuot do
justice to the dignity of the manner of
of Rev. A. J. Ryan, the melody of his
winning and touching eloquence, of his
polished, fervid, glowing, and impassion
ed address, as finished as it was lea/.r-ed
graced with taste and fancy.
It would be useless to say that the au
dience was delighted and instructed. We
were made to rejoice in the beauty of the
South—our heritage—and the premise of
its days.
We felt that the South would yet Lave
a name, an example, a mind, and spirit
that would live to enlighten, improve and
bless the world. And each one of the
audience felt stronger his attachment for
her honor, more zeal for her glory,
more earnestness for her prosperity, and
more pride in his home.
Long may Father Ryan be spared us,
that we may be delighted by his addres
ses, cheered by his presence, and im
proved bv the employment of his pen.
May his name be deeply inscribed
upon the corner stone of Southern pros
perity, and be placed in the highest ranks
of the lasting friends of her people.
Atlanta Intelligencer .
HOW WE BEHAVED
BY AN OLD FOGY.
In my time, boys and gills were not
born perfect; they had te learn a great
many things before they took their "flight
for the great, wide world. Nowadays,
Master Tom, when he gets through with
his marbles, lights a cigar and discusses
the political questions of the day; he leers
at the “gals,” and speaks knowingly of
the mysteries of “poker” and “euchre.”
Miss Lucy prefers flash gold rings to a
wax doll; she flirts with half a dozen
youngsters, and giggles as she makes
some ridiculous remarks about the old
gentleman with the green specs—her
father.
It wasn’t so in my time. We were so
stupid.
We boys, looked upon our papa, as an
oracle who could never be wrong. We
obeyed him implicitly, and never thought
of calling him the “old man;” no, not
even when we were old enough to a*k
him permission to get married Then
we had some obscure notion about the
respect due to woman—it was our
mother taught us that. We used to fed
that we would knock down the vulgar
fellow who would dare address a flippant
remark or give an impudent look to our
sister, and consequently, we took caregto
i espeet the sisters of others.
We were such block heads, in my time’
But, then, the girls had a bashfuj
way about them; they didn't provoke a
fellow by staring at him so, and we could
peep at them without their knowing
as they played among themselves. They
had no gew-gaws to dazzle us with
their mammas had persuaded them that
a simple flower is more becoming to a
young girl than the richest jewelry; i US [
think of it! The girls were just’ as
absolete as the hoys, in those days
They didn’t break out with that faeina
ting “hi, hi, hi! ha, ha, ha!” with which
the,witty girls T of the present time aceoni
pany the most common place remark
It sounds very pleasant: “Ho dy’e an d
Li, hi, hi!” “Fine weather! ha, ha. ha!”
It makes me so merry, that I feel that I
could carry a little bell with me, and
jingle jingle, jingle, in accompaniment.
And our girls, too, didn’t take prece
dence of old age, they gave up their
seats to dull old gentlemen, and listened
respectfully to their prosy talk.
They were so foolish, the girls of my
time!
We din’t learn more at school or col
lege then, than is done now; but at
home—lackaday! how many things they
did teach us. We were not little men
and women at twelve it took years more
training to turn us out Sometimes I
recall to mind some of those rules and
they seem to me quite hard, though I
learned them easily enough then. We
were so soft, in my time.
Let me see. About ’talking: We
were not to keep talking all the time, bat
had to give everybody else a chance.
We were no to whisper nor to talk too
loud; we could not interrupt another
speaker. We were instructed always to
speak of such things that the whole
company could take an interest in. We
were forbidden to speak ill of absent
friends. Then, in company, we had to
sit straight without stiffness, and to look
pleased and attentive. We could not
rub our hands throw up our legs, pick
our ;teeth or our nose. We had to take
off our hat when we came into the house
and could neither whistle nor spit on the
c irpet.
What a bore was company, in my
time!
And the girls! they could not wear the
same jewels as the married ladies; they
must not talk so loud as to attract every
body’s attention and drown the voice cf
other speakers. They were not allowed
to wear their dresses so joy down their
back, leaving their shoulders bare—but
with all that, they managed to look very
beautiful, and we boys used to be always
in love with then., though we net
say so as they do now—but w always
meant what we said
We were so sheepish, ir. my time!
At table it was another story. Our
! hands had to be clean washed and our
! nails scraped. We must take care not
!to be in our neighbor’s way, to wait till
the ladies were helped, and to leave
enough in the dish, when we helped,
ourselves. Then, we were not permitted
to bolt our food, but to masticate it
properly, never using the fork to pick
| our teethj nor the knife to carry f>od to
our motuh. What a restraint! Then it
was not polite to criticize a dish, nor to
praise it, unless the mistress of the house
asked our opinion, which necessitated a
complimentary answer.
It is ridiculous to think how many
social rules we were subjected to, in my
time, which have been done away with.
I try to make up for the restraint ot my
youth by indulging in the freedom or
the present times, but I am too old now,
to learn better manners, and young
America is too fast for me. I must be
satisfied with finding amusement in t.v
comparison of what was with what is.
I remember—but I am getting botu
prolix and prosy; on some other occasion
I will continue telling you how stupiJ
we were in my time.
*
It Curbs dyspepsia, heart bum sick
and nervous headache, chronic diarruuM.
etc.
It Relieves costiveuess, desponLiU
and melancholy feelings, nervousw^«
etc.
It Prevents fever and ague, '“'T'"
consumption, jaundice, and biliou
ses.
In Fact, Simmons’ Liver Legu.-^
lias no equal as a preventive ' 1u - ,
Examine and see the
pe >ple right li re at home mat }
know.