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About The banner of the South. (Augusta, Ga.) 1868-1870 | View Entire Issue (July 9, 1870)
2 George Bell on board. That gave me hope. “ ‘The lugger has come up with them.’ says I. ‘Thank heaven, George will got them; I know he will, mother.’ ‘T tried to speak certain for the poor old woman’s sake, for she seemed like to die; but I feared it was a bad job my self. Anyhow, I plucked up courage, and kept looking out as well as I could. George's boat was fetching about iu the storm, trying to save some of them. "My heart was up, ready to choke me: I couldn’t breathe. My wife wanted to take the glass from my hand to look her self; but Lar,’ she couldn't have held it a iniDute, and her eyes were so wild, 1 don’t believe they .-aw at all. " ‘No, Mary,’ says I, ‘I must look. Yon pray God to help us.’ "I could see the lugger’s main-sail shaking in the wind, and her crew lean over the side and get something in. It was a man. " ‘Have they got him, John? Have they got him? Tell me! How many are saved?” “I couldn’t answer, sir; I couldn’t draw my breath. I knew they had got one—only one. " ‘Cheer up, mate,’ I says, ‘cheer up. They have got one; there is one chance for us out of four. Lord have mercy on us, Mary!’ “What misery we felt then, sir! But hope was still with us, and we rank down the beach with as much heart as we could muster, through we dreaded to hear our fate. “0, how I did pray that time! I said no words of prayer, but all my heart andjsoul seemed to rest upon God’s mercy, and to beseech him in silence to spare my boy. “I had taught Joe to swim when he was a child; and 1 knew he was a strong lad and wouldn’t give in easy. But then he had on heavy boots and a tarpaulin coat, and I don't know ybat besides. He would not be able to hold out long, and in such a sea, too. He might perhaps keep afloat for a few minutesT ‘ By the time we had got down to the waterside, the lugger had tacked and was standing in. There was a number of people out then, for the accident had been seen all along the shore, and othei boats had put off through the surf, though they could not hope to be of much use. “The crowd stood down at the water’s edge, watching the lugger getting nearer and nearer to the land. Some were crying out, waving handkerchiefs, and looking wildly at her as she rolled about on the waves, with her bow straight to ward the shore. "There was one poor woman down there, sir, holding" a child by each hand. It would have broken your heart to see her. She didn’t say anything, or cry, like many of them. Her face looked white and cold like marble. Sin had a husband and a son in the galley-punt when she upset, and she knew, as we did, that only one man was saved out of the tour. I don’t know w4iich she hoped to see alive—her son, I believe, though he had never been no comfort to her; but the mother’s heart, you know, often loves the bad as well as the good. “My old wife and I tried to keep as quiet as we could, for, somehow, we did not like to make a show. "At last the lugger began to draw near the beach. She was only three or four cables’ lengths off; but our eyes were too wet to see who was aboard of her. I pulled my sleeves across mine, and pushed foiward almost into tnc surf 1 could just count them. The man they had picked up was in the stern with the others; and I stiained my old eyes to catch a look at him as the boat rose on the waves; but, before I could make out who it was she would give a roll to wind ward or to leeward, and the foot of the double-refed sail would hide him away again. "I shall never forget that moment, sir. All the agony of twenty lives seem ed crowded into those few seconds. Hope and fear together were like to break my heart. It was too much to bear for long. And the old mother kept calling out to me: ‘“0, Jack! tell me—who is it? Who is it? is it Joe?’ _ “Just then, as the lugger rose, I saw him for a second. He had come for’ard, and was standing, holding on the to stay, with his hand up, as if he wanted to show himself. He had a red handkerchief around his neck. I san „ out . <Qh Mary! it is him ! Oh! °thank, God| he’s saved!’ ‘‘And then she ran forward, like to drown herself, and called, Joe, ‘Joel’in a sort of wild yell, as if her weak voice could have reached the lugger through the roaring of the sea and the gale, "I got sight of him at last, sir, as he come close to the shore. It was not Joe! Joe was gone where no mother’s voice can ever reach him again, and where his poor father’s see him no more. It was the other woman’s son. He leaped from the lugger’s side almost before she buried her bows in the shingle, and his mother, and they both laved on the beach, and cried and laugh ed like mad people. They were nigh out of their minds with joy and grief, fur, though the son was saved the mother was no more, "When she come to, we walked up to this house again. But the light of it was gone, sir. It seemed dark and lonely; and I couldn’t abide to see all things about that had belonged to my boy, and to think that he was floating about cold and stiff in the dark waters of the channel. "My old woman took her bed; and it was soon all over with her. When she was dreadful bad, the parson came and told her she would see Joe again above, and it was the only thing that gave the poor creature comfort. I often tried my best to cheer her up; but Lor,’ I was that down myself that I only made her worse. The parson came the last night, when her life was ebbing away, and told her again that she would see Joe. Then she lifted her eyes to heaven; and they looked as they used to look forty years ago, when we first married, aud I was young and hearty, like my pocr boy when he left us that morning. She look ed up and gave a kind of smile, as if she saw him through the darkness, and then she died. "I often wonder if she did see him. I’ve been at many people’s deathbeds, ashore and afloat, and the wild stare in their eyes at the last moment al ways made me think that they saw into the other world just as they was leaving this. "As for me, sir, I never forgot Joe’s death for a moment. It finished me. After my wife died, I used to wander about alone all day, as if T was looking for him; and at night I would come down on to the beach there, and sit among the boats, and look at the black wild sea, and cry like a child. It’s this day two years that his body washed ashore at that point of land out there, where you see the big stone.” As the low rumbling of the night train up to London lulled me to sleep among soft cushions of a first-class car riage, I fancied I could hear the whistling and wailing of the storm, though the sky was still and starlight; and through my dreams I saw the mournful figure of the old man sitting alone on the shore among the boats, lookirg out on the dark sea and crying like a child. Tinsley's Magazine for May . EUROPEAN CORRESPONDENCE OF THE BANNER OF TIIE SOUTH. Editor Banner of the South : For three hundred years has England been playing a dark political game in Ireland, in every stage of which she has been hitherto baffled, and she now stands, with her hand trembling on the last move—a move that cannot restore her hapless fortunes, but must forever pro nounce the whole, from first to last, a a hopeless, graceless, ignominious failure. Three hundred years ago, when England’s power was confined to the limits of the pale,” with fiery chieftains on every side, that hourly threatened the “Sassenaghs” with death and destruction, England en tered heart and soul into the great and arduous enterprise of perfecting the con quest. Her great design was by every means in her power to extend her present dominion over the Island, and by oblit erating every distinctive feature of Na tionality to thoroughly incorporate the people with herself, and thus in every possible manner to Anglicise Ireland. While the great barrier of Faith existed between the two peoples, she knew that success was more than doubtful, and she determined to spare no effort to induce the Irish to desert the grand old Faith of her fathers and embrace the empty tenets of the Reformation. Thus she conceived her second great design—to Protestantize Ireland. Far be it from us for one moment to suppose that Eng land entered upon the fell work of prose lytising the Island of the Saints, from any conviction of the truth of the heresies she had herself adoyted, or from any pious desire of extending the blessing— such as it was to Ireland, but simply that she might smooth the asperities of the conquest and blend the sympathies of the two races by inducing or forcing the Irish people into an unholy alliance with herself and heresy—in short that her Faith—her Nationality and the distinctions of race might all be forgotten in what she fancied was soon to become the new regenerate Anglicised Protestant Ireland. The first great instrument of this second design, the Irish Church Establishment was manufactured to order—the fold was delivered to the wolves, and the Island inundated and garrisoned with the emis saries of her new Propaganda of Heresy. They little knew the people with whom they had to deal. The Parliament-sent apostles preached the State gospel at the point of the bayonet, and the logic of the sword was applied in vain. Nettled at the opposition it encountered in this early stage of its great design, the State grew furious. The Faith was ruthlessly prescribed—the heroic Priesthood mar tyred, and a reign of terror commenced, in which nothing was left undone that the fiendish malice of statesmen could suggest or the brutedike violence of their bailiffs accomplish. Amid every tribulation—amid the rage of war and persecution and the fury of the oppressor, the Irish Catholic heart bade defiance to the powers of hell and heresy, aud after three centuries—three centuries of blood and bondage England was driven from her entrenchments by the civiliza tion of the age, wearied, baffled and dis appointed. She had not, however, the most remote intention of sacrificing what she considered her interests upon the shrine of either justice or of civilization or allowing any consideration to divert her from what she considered would directly or indirectly contribute to her welfare.— By this time the material conquest had been completely effected, but the great difficulty of ever reconciling the Celt to the rule of the Saxon was stiil as formida ble, and the great immovable Catholicism of the Irish still widened the gulf be tween them—still preserved their Na tionality distinct, and still kept the smothered fire of patriotism glowing in the hearts of the people, that ever and anon broke out in wild scenes of rebel lion and massacre. As the substance at least of her ends had been effected, Eng land could now afford to change her tac tics aud modify her policies so as to ren der her modus operandi more in con formity with the civilization of the age and the advanced ideas of the times. Consequently, the sword of oppression was sheathed, and the statute books, with all the dread tales of the penal times was hurried into the shadows of the past, and to the fiendish cunning of statecraft was entrusted the success of the work which tyranny and violence had failed to accomplish. From first to last, England had found in the Priesthood of Ireland the great stronghold of the Faith and of Na tionality of the people. She had left nothing undone to annihilate it by every means she could command, but in vain, and the altar was raised on the glen side, and the Faith proscribed at home was nourished from the great seats of learning and sanctity abroad England now determined to try moral force where physical force had tailed. She knew the powerful influence she possessed over the faithful people, and it struck her forcibly that if she could win them over to her interests they would become in struments of her power. Her first move was to withdraw them from all foreign influences—for in their education in the colleges of France, Italy, and Spain, they imbibed ideas and principles little favora ble to England or her cause—and to in corporate them with the Nation and gradually sever every connection exist ing between them and the Continent, and if possible seduce them from their allegi ance to the Holy See. Her third great design was thus to Nationalize the Priest hood. The College of Maynooth wa* immediately endowed with nearly £30,- 000 a year, and subsequently overtures were made by the Arch-hypocrite States man—Lord John Bussell—offering, on the part of the State, to secure a regular salary to the Priests. This offer was nobly refused. Though the Priesthood were undeniably useful to the English in restraining the fiery patriotism of their flocks, whenever it threatened to lead them into a useless rebellion, they still remained where they ever were and ever will be—heart and soul ultramontanes and Irishmen. Once more baffled in her ma chinations, England had recourse to a new stratagem. Sho had failed to se duce the Priesthood from their principles, she now determined to seduce the people from the Priests. Her fourth great move was thus to secularize the laity. Any attempt to withdraw the people from their union with the Priests, from long experience she knew to be impossible, so with fiendish cunning she determined i to exercise her influences in the minds of the young and chose an effective in strument in the establishment of a great and powerful system of "Secular” Education. When every source ofeducation was poison ed—when the first lesson the young receiv ed was a contempt for anything Catholic and profound admiration for everything English. When the student was taught to laugh at- the patriotism and sneer at the Catholicism of his fathers, what might the Church hope for in the future of the new generation. For once indeed, was England on the brink of success. Na tional Schools and Queen’s Colleges were now to effect what centuries of persecu tion had failed to accomplish. It was then that Ireland’s Priesthood once more proved her salvation unceasingly, un tiringly, undiscouraged, undismayed.— Bishops and Priests labored to counteract the torrent of evil that threatened to in undate the land, and after many years Queen's Colleges and Model Schools were deserted by the Catholics and the National Schools purged of everything prejudicial to the faith of the children, who, in the absence of every other alter native, were obliged to attend them. Thus, after three hundred years of proselytism, aided with every instrument of oppression, Ireland cf to-day'is, if pos sible,more Catholic and more ultramontane than in the earlier days of e6nquest, and the machinations of England have proved, from first to last, a miserable failure. The tide of fortune has now turned more than ever against her. Terrified at the prospect, and the unmistakable evidences of a Fenian invasion she has had to aban don the hopeless game, and seek injustice and conciliation the only chance of pre serving her power in Ireland. She has sacrificed her Irish Church Establish ment—her Orange Bailiffs, and the great strongholds of oppression and Pro testant ascendancy. To conciliate the Priests—now more powerful tnau ever— she is about to introduce anew system of education—a system in which faith will go hand in hand with science under the rule and guidance of the Church. Thus, in Ireland, the Church gains more power ful prestige every day—powerful in its own truth and unity, and powerful iu its influences. THE PROTESTANT CHURCH IN IRELAND. The Protestant Church here is nothing more than a hopeless ruin—distracted, disunited and powerless. Only a few days since and the parishioners of the Protestant Churches throughout all their dioceses met for the purpose of denounc ing the Ritualism ot their own Arch bishop of Dublin, whilst some, aided by the Ministers, have ventured on a defence. The idea of Church authority seems never to occur to those would-be uphold ers of orthodoxy, but the chief aim and end of every Protestant layman seems to be to keep his Minister "in the way he should go,” whilst that Reverend person age on the other hand as far as an un qualified disgust for the vulgar, Low Church orthodoxy goes, seems equally persistent in "departing from it.” TIIE COUNCIL. The discussion on Cap. 3 of the Schema on the Infallibility has just been com pleted. The debate on the 4th and last is to begin this week. It is supposed that it will be solemly proclaimed on St. Peter’s Day. SPAIN. The Spanish Cortes have offered to restore to Queen Isabella her personal income and crown jewels if she will ab dicate. Veritas. NEW ORLEANS (LA) CORRESPONDENCE OF THE BANNER OF THE SOUTH. New Orleans, June oOtb, 1870. St. Stephen’s Parish is the only one I believe in which processions in honor of the Blessed Virgin Mary are held annually. On Sunday, June 12, the ac customed ceremony took place, and was a very beautiful affair. The cordon of honor was carried as it was last year, by a number of little girls dressed, in white, with wreaths of roses aud garlands of blue ribbon. They thus form, as it were, a guard of beauty and iunocence to her whom they honor as their queen, for her statue is carried immediately in front of them, surrounded by the young maidens who are called "Children of Mary.” The colored children, also, tastefully dressed, likewise carried a cordon of honor, sep arated from the little white girls by the body of the clergy. This arrangement impressed me, even as it did last year, with the thought how well the Church knows how to assign to each class jts proper place in the social scale, and yet unites them all into one perfect and peace ful whole. Sr. Stephen’s Society presented verv full ranks, headed by its President, Gen Blanchard, who had that day received for his Society an elegant and costly ban ner which they had had made in Ger many. Father Mandine, the Pastor, occupied his usual place in the procession in the centre of the cordon of honor, the sh 1 '")- herd among the lambs of his flock. This morning, while listening to a ser mon by this Reverend gentlemen, it oc . curred to me that a translation of v might please your readers, as much as it charmed and edified all his hearers. Taking the gospel of the day for his subject, he Brought out its hidden nieam ing in such a forcible and yet elegant manner, that the truths then explained assumed a newer and more beautiful form than any I bad ever listened to. I feel no assurance of doing justice to his words or thoughts, but will make the effort, if only to put in English a meditation so full of the beauties of the French lan guage. "A certain man made a great supner and invited many.” This supper, men tioned in a parable is a figure of that eternal banquet which awaits us all at the end of life. And even as a supper closes every festival, having nothing be yond it for the guests’ enjoyment, so this heavenly repast is the complement of all bliss—the climax of every joy. A great supper! great because given by Him who is master of the L Diverse; great because the angels themselves shall minister unto the happy guests; great because the wine of perfect love shall know of no diminution, and the song of heavenly glee continue on forever; great because of the number of those invited ; great because it is the boon of everlast ing life. "And they began, all at once to make excuses.” Ah, poor sinners! God invites us all by His Heavenly messengers to come to His royal fead, and still we raake excuses. And what excuses! "I have bought a farm aud must needs go out and see it.” must needs go to sec a poor piti able acre of ground, growing at the best only a few fruits and flowers, and for this we refuse the Kingdom of God— the supper where all that the heart of man can ask, is spread abundantly be fore him. How we cling to Earth, to its perishable possessions, when we might be guests at the Lord’s feast. This Earth we love so much, this farmstead of ours, what will it yield us in a few more years ? Only a grave ; and in return for our ter restial love, the same Earth will fatten on our bodies and grow from their decaying elements a little more grass and weeds. All ye who plead this excuse are wordiy men, sordid minds, who cannot know what God has in store for those who love Him. "I have bought five yoke of oxen and I go to try them.” ‘‘Five yoke of Oxen!” Is it for such a reason that the sweet invitation g-jes unheeded ? Self-interest, love of gain, wordiy success, these come before the call of grace—the pleading voice of con seience. Degraded men! ye live like the brutes of your field, with heads and hearts bowed down to love of lucre, and from the supper prepared for you, you beg to be excused—you have brutalized your better nature until it no longer cares for the things of God. ‘‘l have married a wife, and, therefore, I cau not come.” Wedded to voluputous pleasures, bound by the cords of sinful enjoyment, how can such an one think of the pure, bright feast which awaits his coming ? There fore he gives up his honored seat among that celestial company; wastes ail hi; time away from God’s service! turns from the heavenly envoy sent with the divine invitation and flings away his pa>s pnrt to eternal happiness ! Ah "I have married a wife, and, therefore must give up my right to the heavenly buDquet! Away with such mean, unworthy excuses. Well might the Lord of the feast be angry. What, a farm, five oxen, a wile —these are preferred to Him ? A little earth, a dumb animal, an object of plea sure—these all heeded before that eer - tial call which places man among the angels. "Go and bring in hither the poor and feeble, the blind and lame.” Yes go to him who not knowing his Lord, is poor indeed; to him who is weak and feeble in the faith, to him who has never seen My mercy, and is therefore blind; to him who unaided by any grace is lame in the path that leads heavenwards; to a 1 ot these go with My invitation of love, ana bring them hither to this great supper o f joy. Go even into the highways an i hedges, into the known and unknown parts of the Earth and compel them to come that my house may be full. "But I say unto you, that none ot these men that were invited shall taste ot my sup per.” I gave my grace abundantly to them: with tender mercy I invited an,
