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\o! no l wc will not clothe ourselves
with the priestly robes of those who
sacrifice to false gods, lor we hokl them
in horror and abomination. We stand
here in the arena as we stood in prison,
determined alike to resist your impious
commands' and to confess the faith that
has been vouchsafed to us in our Lord
Jesus Christ.’*
The officers retired. They could not
vse violence at the last extremity.
‘‘Mv heart and my flesh have ex
ulted in the living God ! Blessed are
they that dwell in thy house, 0, Lord!
they shall praise thee forever and ever!”
Thus sang aloud Vivia, holding the
hand of Felicity, who joined her voice
with her own. The crowd held their
peace for a moment, for it was strange
indeed to the eyes of the Carthaginians
to beholding two young women chant
ing in Ihe transports of joy though on
the point of a most cruel death.
“ The blood of the martyrs cries to
heaven like the blood of innocent Abel.
Enjoy our tortures, but fear the justice
of God. Beware! the vengeance of
heaven is terrible against those who
blaspheme or who persecute the ser
vants of the Lord. As for thee, O!
Hilarion, thou knowest not that all
power is from above, and that woe be
to him who has abused this power!”
Thus spoke Saturuus. Hilarion grew
ptfe with indignation.
“Let them be flogged!” cried out the
Governor, whose eyes flashed with rage.
“Be thou blessed forever, 0, Lord!”
they all cried out as the blood rundown
down their naked backs.
But, the crowd grew impatient. “The
lions !” resounded lrom all sides.
“ Let me confront them the first,” cried
out Kevocatus, rushing to the iron bars
which formed the entrance.
Intense suspense now held the people.
Not a breath was heard. The sun
looked down from its height and shed a
brilliancy upon the noble martyrs as
they stood boldly 7 awaiting death for the
religion of the Saviour!' Where were
the triends and dearly beloved parents of
Vivia ? Was her pious mother amongst
that crowd, or had she retired ? Per
haps she was looking on and had already
seen the delicate flesh of her child torn
by the whip. Had she murmured aloud
when she saw it! If she had, it was not
heard. The Virgin as she stood beneath
the Cross and looked upon the drops of
blood as they fell from the lacerated brow
of her son, was a scene of which the
present is repeated in miniature.
Perhaps Vivia was thinking about her
mother, aud her agony would be thereby
increased by the reflection that she was
an eyewitness of her torture. Perhaps,
too, the little items of her past life came
vividly before her mind, and the- image
of Jarbas, her darling companion, stood
out before her in all the charms of realitv.
Her infant, where was it! Poor inno
cent child, it was too young to know of
anything. God had preserved it at
least trom the pain of mental martyrdom.
She might have cast a look upon the
paat, but it was a temptation from which
she shrank. Her mind was absorbed in
the future, and the pleasures of that
eternity which now opened before her.
She had approached the threshold, and
one step more, and the crown was
gained.
The signal was given. The beasts,
starved for some days previous, were
now ravenous for their prey. Like the
rapidity of lightning they bounded forth,
with their shaggy manes Hying in the
air, and their mouths wide open display
ing their hideous tusks. It was per
mitted to the priest to fall the first. In
less than a moment, his body was nothing
but a shapeless mass of mangled flesh.
The furious yells of the savage beasts,
as they jumped from prey to prey,
echoed fearfully around, and struck ter
ror even into the beholders. The dust,
raise 1 by the animals, concealed the
sight from the people, aud as they thought
that all had been gorged sufficiently,
they cried out, “ Let the sword do the
rest.” They had all fallen but one.
Yivia stood erect. Nevertheless, she
had been wounded, and her sweet coun
tenance was trickling with blood and
sweat.
“ Where was she ?” exclaims St. Au
gustine, speaking of Vivia, “ wliere was
he when she was attacked and almost
torn to death without feeling the cruel
wounds? When, after such a violent
contest, she asked, in all simplicity, when
ti'.e light was to commence? What did
"ho see when she saw not what all others
saw ? W hat did she feel, tv hen she felt
uol woat all others felt ? By what trans
port of love, by what inspired vision, by
what mysterious enchantment was she
carried in spirit without the limits of the
flesh, that she should not feel the suffer
ing of a mortal body.”
Faith' must answer. Human wis
dom will find here a mystery which it
cannot solve. The burning ardor the
violence of divine love, transports be
yond himself, and renders him insen
sible to all 1 hut passes her below Ex
empts of this is frequent in the livbs of
saints and martyrs.
The lions were withdrawn from the
arena, and when the guards pressed
around Vivia, to carry into execution the
sentence of the people, they could but
shrink back with respect and veneration.
“ Come,” she said, clasping her hands
and holding them up, “ come and let me
join my brethren, who have passed
away.”
One of the guards raised his sword,
but it fell down harmless by his side,
“ Let the will of the immortal gods be
done!” cried the exasperated crowd,
from all sides.
“ Into thv hands, O Lord! 1” the
sword struck her, and she fell upon the
ground, consecrating the arena with her
blood. She struggled in the agonies of
death sos some time, and though the
movements of her body indicated pain,
nevertheless, that sweet smile was still
upon "her lips. There was one convul
sive agitation of her delicate frame, and
her soul mounted to the throne of God
to receive from his hands the aureola of
martyrdom.
The crowd was satisfied, and began to
disperse. It was hours before the last
one had left the vast enclosure. The
bodies were left as they lay, for no one
among the pagans cared for them, and
the Christians were, perhaps, too timid
to expose themselves by showing sympa
thy before an excited mob.
The evening came on, and the sun dis
appeared behind the western hills. The
moon however arose, and the dark long
shadows, cast by the vaulted arches and
pillars of the Amphitheatre, stretched
along the thickly trodden sand.
A female figure, scarcely discernable
through the dim moonlight, crept stealthi
ly under one of the arches, carrying in
her arms her murdered child. It was the
mother of Vivia.
CHAPTER XXI.
THE ANNIVERSARY.
Two years passed away. During this
long interval, Julia and Rufina were al
ways together, and their only conversa
tion was the heroic and happy death of
Vivia, The liberated slave longed to
unite herself with her divine spouse, and
nrw that her brother Kevocatus was no
more, there was but one link which
bound her to this world. She loved her
mistress with all the strength of filial
love.
A young slave raised gently the
velum which closed the entrance to the
apartment, and walked noisely over to the
rich patrician:
“ Noble mistress, an old man desires
to see you,” she said. “ The poor old
man! I saw tears falling from his eyes,
and he appeared to be in deep affliction.”
This young slave was a Christian whom
Julia had taken into her service soon
after the death of Yivia.
“ We must always be kind to the poor
Thesba—let him enter.”
The stranger entered. “Pardon!” he
cried,” “ pardon for a wretched man,”
and he went on his knees and bent down
to the floor.
“ Rise, old man ! Explain what you
want. Rise.”
“In the name of llim who lias in dy
ing pardoned his executioners—in the
name of the noble martyrs who now
pray in heaven —pardon me! pardon
me !”
Whoever you are,” replied Julia,
“if you have done aught against ine, 1
pardon you for the sake of Jesus Christ,”
and she reached him her hand.
“ Generous lady ! you do not recog
nise the guilty man whom you behold at
your feet. Oh, no! I cannot touch the
hand of the pious mother of Vivia !”
lie was overcome, and wept aloud. He
still kept his humiliating posture, and
kept violently striking his breast.
Julia could scarcely restrain her tears.
At length she told him to rise again,
and ir t give way to such grief, for that
she forgave him, even though he had
been the murderer of her daughter.”
“ Murderer of your daughter ! lam
more guilty than he who has shed her
blood. lam lie who cursed your daugh
ter because she was a Christian—l am
that implacable wretch who has pursued
with vengeance and hatred that woman
whom you loved so much.”
It was the old shepherd of the moun
tains. The martyrs had prayed for him,
and that heart of vengeance and hatred
was changed into one of goodness and
love.
Julia started as she recognised him,
but she quickly restrained whatever
feelings might have risen within her
breast :
“ Sylvain,” she said, “I forgive you,
and henceforward you will have a sister
in the mother ot A ivia.”
The old man raised his head, and as he
gazed upon her, the tears of gratitude
course down his cheeks.
MIS® ©I ESS B©UES,
“ Noble and holy lady! I have come
down from the mountains only that I
might ask pardon. That pardon, I have
now obtained, and I can die in peace.”
“ But, tell me, Sylvain, how did you
become a Christian,” inquired Julia.
“ I can conceal nothing from you. I
witnessed the death of Vivia with a sav
age joy, and when I saw her blood flow, I
felt that my vengeance was satisfied. I
then sought my solitude in the moun
tains. I was now released from a heavy 7
burden that had pressed upon me for
years. I thought to find comfort and
tranquility of mind, but no. He morse
raised up in my dreams phantoms horri
ble to behold, and even in the day this
inexorable tyrant pursued me, and often
I saw my hands steeped in human blood.
The arena, with all its thrilling sights,
was ever before my distracted mind,
and the insulting cheers of the thousands
present rang perpetually in my ears. I
invoked the gods, and brought to their
minds that it was for their sake that I
had sacrificed my child and pursued
Vivia with such a deadly hatred.
“ My whole effort was now to ward off
those sombre thoughts that besieged me,
but it was useless, for the slightest move
ment of a leaf, the most gentle breath of
wind, the peaceful rippling of the stream,
rc-echocd the name of my child.
“Ahnoble mistress, I have known re
morse. It left me no peace 1 was in
its grasp like a victim within the claws
of a wolf. It has been iny invisible
companion day and night; it has walked
with me wherever I went, and lias ren
dered bitter the food l have eaten. And
when the shadows from the mountains
stretched far athwart the valleys, and
the stars glittered like gems in the cloud
less sky 7 , it was then, indeed, that it beut
over my couch like some supernatural
vision, to terrify me with the scenes of
the past, Remorse ! Remorse ! The
arrow was in my 7 heart !
“ But, instead of humbling myself un
der the band of God, I continued to blas
pheme him. The more I was tortured
with remorse, the more I uttered sacri
legious imprecations against Christ and
his followers. I could have wished that
the name of ‘ Christian’ was blotted out
of existence. But all this was said in
the delirium of my impiety.
“ One night, as I sat in my mountain
hut, a stranger approached, and asked
admittance. I readily granted him hos
pitality. I soon found out, however, that
he was a Christian. I snatched a dagger
that was lying on the table, and already
it gleamed in the air, when the stranger
fell on his knees before me. ‘Strike, if
thou wilt/ he cried. * Noble Jarbas has
pardoned thee, as also the priest who
taught him to have mercy !’ The dag
ger fell from my hand. I was conquered.
1 fell at the feet of the noble Armitius,
and besought him to pray lor me to the
God of the Christians.
“ ‘ She who had been your daughter
upon earth, is now in heaven praying
for you,’ resumed the priest. * The blood
which she has shed is all-powerful, and
will, eventually, bring you into the fold
of Christ/ ”
“ I felt repentant, and I felt confi
dence return in proportion as I invoked
the Christiau God and the blood of my
child. I had been told that this Divini
ty was merciful and forgiving, and with
the crimes of the blood of my daughter,
Yivia, and Jarbas upon my soul, 1 prayed,
and he poured down upon me his
in rich profusion.
* For weeks I prepared for the sacra
ment of baptism. Armitius instructed
me in the doctrines of the religion of
Christ. Finally, the happy day arrived,
aud I was admitted‘into the true Church
—a blessing for which 1 will praise God
as long as I shall live.
“ But, noble mistress, let me ask an
other favor —it is the last.”
“ Favor ? brother in Christ. Ask it
—ask it,” replied Julia, deeply moved
at the recital.
“ Let me bathe with my tears the
tombs of my daughter Felicity and
Yivia.”
The old man stood by the graves. His
long, disheveled hair, grown grey with
the lapse of years, fell loosely over his
brow as he bent over the sacred spot.
His hands tremblingly rested on the
funeral stone, whilst his breast heaved
with excessive agitation. Tears flowed
from his eyes in abundance, and his
hueless lips moved if in prayer.
“ Pardon ! pardon !” ho cried out at
last. “ Felicity! Vivia! let the voice
of your blood appeal for me to the true
and living God ! Pardon ! pardon !”
He remained a long time over the
grave. When in fine he withdrew, his
brow was serene, and peace had filled
his mind. Julia endeavored to keep
him for a few days, but it was in vain.
He retired to his mountain home.
A few words more and we have done.
The mother and father of Angela
were laden with chains, and suffered
martyrdom about two weeks after the
death of Vivia.
As for Jtibal, he could not remain in
Carthage, for it recalled to him too
many unpleasant reminiscences. He
withdrew to the solitude of the country.
Years of reflection had somewhat mode
rated his ardent temperament. \ ivia
was not forgotten by him Her noble
image occupied perpetually his thoughts,
for he could not but feel admiration for
her virtue and heroism. He had de
sired to know that religion which had
elevated her above the weakness of her
sex. Solitude favored him iu his efforts
to arrive at the truth, and that man of
pleasure, that mind so cold and indiffer
ent to any form of belief, became, under
the grace of God, a model among bis
Christian brethren. The blood of the
martyrs had cried out for mercy, and had
obtained it.
Afer had fiod to the desert, and there
died as he had lived, without remorse for
the blood he had shed.
God gave to Julia many’ days. Jt is
true, she had not the consolation of see
ing her husband embrace the true faith
He had declared that “ Christ should
never be his God,” and, perhaps, the
grace of conversion had been refused him.
It was for her a subject of the most
piquant sorrow. Her two sons, however,
were all that she desired, and by their
practice of every Christian virtue they
rendered happy the evening of her days.
She died in the arms of her beloved
family, and her last wish was to be laid
side by side with her darling child. Her
desire was faithfully complied with, and
her ashes repose in the sacred precincts
of the tomb of Vivia.
Tertullian had attained eminence in
his struggles against the stronghold of
paganism. That vast fabric which had
corrupted the entire world, spreading its
dangerous delusion over the minds of
men, bad been attacked by r the Christian
philosopher, and now felt itself shaken
to its very depths. Heresy, too, expe
perienced the force of his writings, and
little by little it gave way to the light of
truth. The fame of his genius had
spread abroad, and had called forth the
admiration of the infant Church. lie
saw himself surrounded with honors, and
wherever he went the greatest testimo
nies of homage and respect were shown
him as the most able defender of the
Christian religion. Ilis style was free
and intrepid, and his arguments were ir
resistiblejrom the force of truth. But,
after all, the genius of man may some
times go astray, and his knowledge may
sometimes become foolishness, when treat
ing of 1 hose things which pertain to a God
whose ways are inscrutable. The demon
of pride is ever seeking to tempt the
great. It had thrown its spell of en
chantment around Tertullian, and had
brought him step by step within the
grasp of its mysterious influence. It
was on the wings of faith that he had
ascended so high, and now that he lost
the faith, whither has he fallen ? It is
one of the secrets of the Eternal.
We cannot close without recurring to
that noble creature who lias been, as it
were, the heroine of this humble sketch.
We feel that in bringing this recital to
an end, vve are parting with her forever.
But, it is not so, for those who have
risen from the dead are exempt from im
mutability or decay. Her sweet face,
covered with blood and dust, is still be
fore our mind, as she stands defiantly in
the middle of the arena. Those words of
burning love which she uttered when
resting on the threshold of death, still
thrill us with emotion, aud now that she
has passed away, who does not behold
her pure brow decked with the floral
crown of martyrdom, as she kneels on the
steps of the everlasting throne.
NEW ORLEANS (LA) CORRESPONDENCE.
OF THE BANNER OF THE SOUTH.
Banner of the South:
Another sensation in the village !
Last Sunday —9th instant—the residents
of St. Joseph’s Parish had “quite a time
of it” in celebrating the grand religious
ceremonial of breaking ground for their
new Church edifice.
Early in the afternoon this witness
proceeded to the designated spot, on
Common street, away out beyond Clai
borne street, which only a few years
back, was considered the outer limit of
civilization on the margin ox the lake
swamp, but is now the very centre of
that thriving region whose best known
old land-marks are the Charity Hospital
and the City Gas Works.
Several “objects of interest” arrested
attention.
_ First object was the extraordinary
size of the lot itself which has been pur
chased by Rev. Father Smith for the
use of the congregation, and measures
about 300 feet front on Common Street,
by a depth of 450 feet; constituting one
of the largest undivided squares of
ground in the City. On entering the
enclosure, the Second object aru ,
in the shape of two collossal
iiard-burnt brick—perhaps a njjjo,
brick in each pile—rising in th c J?/. !
of the lot, while on all sides around !”
masses of huge building timbers, Jm’’
hundreds of blocks of grauite,
and other solid materials, testify in T f
the zeal and earnestness of the cons °
gation.
" Tub Third object I would rather n
have seen, as it was decidedly o bie °t
iorable, and showed either
carelessness or the grossest bad taste r
the part of the managers of the ceremon^
[Although it was a decided insult to if’
feelings of the assembled crowd, I car na
for a moment imagine the insult to have
been intentional.] It consisted iu a cnr .
don of minaturc Yankee Flag* stretched
around to mark the location and size of
the projected Church! Were the edi
fice intended to be used exclusively or
even mainly by citizens of any one*im.
tionalit.y, such as Irish, or French or
German, then there would be no harm
in using the sunburst, tricolor or other
national emblem; and in the case of >n
African congregation even the Black
Flag might not be amiss; but when, as
in the present instance, the congregation
are either cosmopolite or Southern^ what
an insult to thrust in their faces the fl as:
of their bloodiest enemies! it is to he
hoped that this terrible mistake will not
again occur in this latitude
©
o
The Fourth object was another con
spicuous display of colors; but this time
they were all right, being nothing m ole
nor less than the raised dais and canopy
—surmounting one of the aforesaid piles
of brick—all tricked off in white and
yellow—the papal colors—and
with a curtain of green, in honor of the
Isle of Saints, The apex of the canopy
was crowned as usual with the yellow
cross. From these inanimate objects, we
now turn to The Fifth object of in
terest; the quiet and orderly demeanour
of the assembled thousands, who awaited
under the glowing, golden sunlight, the
coming ceremonies. It was a bright and
beautiful Sunday afternoon, just the
weather and the time to entice a gather
ing of lazy loafers and roughs; but un
this occasion they either didn’t appear at
all, or if they did they were in disguise,
and all appeared as gentlemen.
The vSixth object was invisible! hut
was quickly recognized by the whole
crowd, when they perceived, by their
auricular nerves, that the procession was
approaching, to the inspiring strains of
“Patrick’s Day.” A few moments
brought in sight
THE PROCESSION ITSELF,
which contained so many “objects of in
terest,” that a bare enumeration thereof
would fill too much space, so I will only
say that the most striking feature of all
was the long array of hundreds after
hundreds of St. Joseph’s School girls, all
dressed in pure white, with blue sashes
and ribbons, the Blessed Virgin’s own
colors. Another imposing feature was
the large attendance of the St. Alphonsus
Society, with their rich purple sashes,
and their gorgeous banners of their pat
ron Saint and of the Holy Family. These
banners, by the way, are unsurpassed in
America for the taste and elaboration of
their heavy golden embroidery; while
their bearers are second to none in their
zeal aud promptness to assist in any
work tending to advance the honor ami
glory of God’s service.
Ah! woe is me—here comes again
that “flaunting lie,” as the Yankees call
it, their own hated flag! This time itj>
made of heavy white and crimson sik.
and is borne along in the very heait ot
the procession. Why these repeated in
sults to an inoflending crowd of quu-t
citizens, men, women, and children, WL"
have assembled here, not for a political,
but for a religious purpose ? Bid tnn
bearers reflect that their own in\ o
orator, the meek Bishop of Natchez, be
fore whom this detested ciublcm
carried, had once before been uwhr is
paralyzing shadow ? If these wretek i
rags are thus wantonly displayed one
because the holders don't know what ;
to do with ’em, we would geut.y j JI
that much better jlaps have, cIJ “Y
been torn to rags, or buried forevei cm
of sight. Verb, sat sap.
Well, I did design giving an accoum
of the whole proceedings, but you _ yF
impertinent flag has twice obt id
and impeded my progress, so tou •
want of time and space tnis »vng
must be cut short. I- ath r L '‘ j;
nihan, in a few cheerful ai. i • ■ i ; t
remarks, introduced to the
Rt. Rev. Bishop Elder, oi ’
who, iu ringing tones, _
full hour in an address whose p
triotism, logic and philosophy, ' '
the heart of every hearer. * 1 0 j
sermon, the Rx. Rev. Bishop it" 11 -,.
Galveston, performed the cert ■■ .
blessing the ground as it was
front of him by a sharp fT . j us k
plow. The exercises closed ju -