Newspaper Page Text
VOL. 111.
[Published by request.]
The Conquered Banner.
BY MOINA —P.EY. ABEAM J. KYAN.
—— *
Furl that banner, for ’tis weary ;
Round its staff ’tis drooping dreary ;
Furl it, fold it, it is best.
For there’s not a man to wave it,
For there’s not a sword to save it,
And there’s not one left to lave it
In the blood which heroes gave it;
Furl it— hide'll —let it rent.
Take that Banner down, ’tis tattered!
Broken is its staff and shattered !
And the valiant hosts are scattered,
Over whom it floated high.
Oh ! ’tis hard for us to fold it!
Hard to think there’s none to hold it;
Hard that those, who once unrolled it,
Now must furl it with a sigh.
Furl that Banner —furl it sadly—
Once ten thousands hailed it gladly,
And ten thousands -wildly, madly,
Swore it should forever wave
Swore that foeman’s sword should never
Hearts like theirs entwined dissever,
Till that Hag should float forever,
O’er their freedom or their grave.
Furl it! for the hands that grasped it,
And the hearts that fondly clasped it,
Cold and dead are lying low ;
And that Banner—it is trailing!
While around it sounds the wailing
Os its people in their woe.
For though conquered, they adore it!
Love the cold, dead hands that bore it!
Weep for those who fell before it!
Pardoned those who trailed and tore it!
But, oh! wildly they deplore it,
Now, who furl and fold it so.
Furl that Banner! true ’tis gory,
Yet ’tis wreathed round witli glory,
And ’twill live in song and story,
Though its folds are in the dust;
For its fame on brightest pages,
Penned by poets and by sages,
Shall go sounding down the ages—
Furl its folds, though now we must.
Furl that Banner, softly, slowly,
Treat it gently—it is holy—
For it droops above the dead.
Touch it not —unfold it never,
Let it droop there furled forever,
For its People's hopes are dead !
Written for the Banner of the South.
HENRY WARREN;
OR,
The Confederate Soldier’s Revenge.
BY F. FAUNTLEROY, OF TEXAS.
Many persons will be disposed, per
haps, to regard this story as altogether
drawn from imagination, and overwrought;
but it. is really founded on fact; the main
1- atui es are true, and only the details are
supplied by invention.
During the Winter of 1865- ! (> some
half dozen men, the majority of them
young, were seated before a large fire at
a hotel in a village-of historic celebrity
in Western Texas, engaged in an ani
mated conversation in regard to the base
crimes committed against us by the Van
dals in the recent war ; the remembrance
of which burns in the faithful Southern
heart, and will never die as long as
memory has existence among the facul
ties of man. The unpardonable acts of
Federal miscreants in the different South
ern States were freely discussed ; and
many incidents related in which the
speakers had actively participated as Con
federate soldiers. The conversation was
varied, interesting, and exciting. The
true Confederate spirit was exhibited
as the battles were fought over again,
ami Yankee outrages recounted. Let it
not supposed that these men were
“croakers,” or deserters or tories, or that
they belonged to that wretched and con
temptible class aptly termed “whipped
spanielsfor all had done their mig’ht
m the Confederate cause, and only re
gretted they were unable to accomplish
more. Four of them had served from first
to last in that heroic regiment so well
known, not only throughout the South,
but to the enem} 7 , by whom they were
dreaded, as the Terry Bangers. One of
the little assembly had acted well his
part in Arizona and afterwards in the
hard fought battles of Louisiana, and un
derstood the fierce warfare of the intre
pid and deeply mourned General Toni
Green, whom the Yankees called “Old
Furious.” The remaing one of the party
had “soldiered” in Arkansas and Missouri.
While this conversation was going on,
a stranger entered the room, and quietly
seated himself before the fire; and as he
is the principal character of our story, it
is well to describe him.
Let him be called Henry Warren. He
was somewhat under the middle statue,
but well formed, and had been remarka
bly active. He was as dark almost as an
Indian, with black hair, deep hazel and
rather searching eyes—upon the whole a
good looking person —and his appearance
was that of a man between thirty and
thirty-five years of age. His manners
were quiet and unobtrusive, rather sad.
Though there was, apparently, little of the
demonstrative about him, there was in
his nature a latent fire of tremendous
power. He was kind and gentle, unless
aroused by injury, when he exhibted a re
markable force of character and a terrible
will.
“Though smooth his voice, and calm his
general mein,
Still seems there something be would not
have seen.”
Warren soon perceived he was among
congenial spirits, and his nature being
warmed necessarily fell upon
his car, he modestly took part in the
conversation. It was discovered that he
and some of the others had been in the
same command, and had been actors in
the same terrific scenes, which at once
drew them more closely together in feel
ing. He gave us some harrowing pic
tures which put their blood on fire. The
statements concerning the sad fate of his
own family excited our deepest sympa
thies, and awoke feelings we were griev
ed to think we had no means of gratify
ing. Upon hearing the wrongs he had
suffered, I excitedly made the declaration
that, had I been so treated, I would de
vote the remainder of my life to revenge.
He quietly observed that had I been in
his situation 1 would probably have acted
as he had done. At the same time his
countenance assumed a singular expres
sion, which, at the time, I did not under
stand; there was a strange light in his
eye.
I formed a liking for this itranger, and
became much interested in him; and
from what he said at that time, and sub
sequently when I was better acquainted
with him, and from the statements of
other Confederates, the tacts are gather
ed upon which this story is founded.
Inducing others to go with him, War
ren promptly placed himself among the
gallant defenders of the Confederate
States, in the early days of the great
struggle; leaving the sweet companion
ship of a young wife, and the tender and
affectionate associations of parents, sister
and brother—the peace and joys of
home—to go forth as a soldier to battle
for principle and country, and undergo all
the privations, toils and dangers of an
active military life. Ilis home was in
the State of , where he was born,
and had spent the most of his days. He
had lived for several years in Western
Texas, during which time he was a Ran
ger on the frontier, where he learned the
Texas mode of fighting Indians, and had
returned to the “old place,” married and
settled down, when the Southern people,
unable to bear longer the accumulated
wrongs of their Northern enemies, suateh
cd up their arras in self-defence. In both
States he was mainly engaged in raising
horses, of which animals he was an excel
lent judge, and always took great pride
in owning and riding “fine stock.” In
AUGUSTA, GA., JULY 28, 1870.
entering the army his choice was cavalry.
His war steed was a black mare, as beau
tiful as she was high mettled and fleet,
and being a good equestrian he knew
how to ride and manage the spirited ani
mal. She was caparisoned to suit his
judgment and fancy, the saddle being one
of the best made in Texas,of the Mexican
pattern.
It is not necessary to say to which com
mand he belonged. His leader has carved
his name on the tablet which will be
read with enthusiasm in the far off ages
to come, and was feared by the enemy as
the Asiatic fears the tiger in the jun
gles.
Our hero was one of the most daring
of the remarkable men who marched and
fought under the Bonnie Blue Flag, a
soldier worthy of his great chief. He
was found in the front where danger and
death were on every hand; was among
the foremost in the charge, where his
execution was remarkable. Having,
while in the Banger service, acquired a
rare skill in the use of the Texans favor
ite weapon—the six shooter—it was not
difficult for him to send a ball within the
outline of a Yankee’s head. He was
frequently chosen for missions in which
caution, adroitness and courage, were all
needed. Sometimes he bore important
dispatches, and sometimes he was sent to
learn the position and strength of the
enemy. More than once he acted the
hazardous part of a spy. On one occa
sion was detailed with a party to prepare
and set torpedoes for the elevation of
United States soldiers. His engineering
disposition prompted him to learn all he
could about those dreadful engines. He
was possessed of that shrewdness, and all
those qualities which make up Indian
craft, and fitted him for the discharge of
such duties. He always performed his
part well, and received from headquart
ers the credit due him.
Warren fought like a Trojan at the
trying and dreadful battles of Fort
Donelson, where thirteen thousand faith
ful Confederates (many of them freezing
in water and ice), whipped the great
Ulysses, with his twenty gun boats and
vast horde, for two days; and not until
the night of the third day did they re
solve to surrender, Grant then having
eighty thousand men. But some of our
brave boys heroically made their way
from the fort. Warren was shot through
the body and was also wounded badly in
the leg. His captain and the surgeon
gave him special attention and resorted to
all the means within their power to pro
mote his recovery. Unfortunately, he
was injur:d for life, but was, in time, so
far restored as to enable his return to his,
old place in the ranks, and to the per
formance of his routine as a faithful sol
dier ; though his strength and active en
ergies were somewhat abated by the in
juries received. He was in the principal
battles fought in Kentucky, Tennessee
and Mississippi.
How often, while on the march or
around the camp-fire, his mind reverted to
that spot which was the centre of his
joys; aud the thought of home made
him a better soldier. There was some
thing to fight for. When loving and en
couraging missives were received from
those he loved so well, his onergv and
fire caught additional strength, and his
pride, already high, was further stimu
lated to noble deeds. See him now as
he reads a letter from his wife, just placed
in his hands, a tear standing in # his eye.
This is the language which fills his heart
to overflowing:
Dear Henry: It gives me great joy
to have an opportunity of writing, and
sending you a few things which I cup
pose you will need. Mother and Sallie
helped me to make them. Your name in
the handkerchief is worked with my
hair. I should be happy to see
you, my dear husband, but I would not
call you from your duties as a good Con
federate soldier, if 1 could. I would
rather .you would die on the battlefield
than to come home and act as some of
our neighbors do. I hope you no longer
suffer from your wounds. We are all
well. God bless you.
Your affectionate wife,
Mary.
What inexpressible comfort it was to
the soldier, to be assured that his family
were in good circumstances—not suffer
ing from ill-health or want. Now that
he has heard from the “loved ones at
homo,” his spirits are up and he is ready
to fight another battle.
Little did Warren dream of what dis
tressing news would sooa fall upon him,
like a stroke of lightning, and desolate
his heart. He kept straight on in his
path of duty and honor, cheered by the
hope that it would not be long before
war would cease in the land, and he
wuuld return to quiet and domestic hap
piness.
A few days after the battle of ,
in which he had again acquitted himself
with credit, a letter from a friend was
handed him. He eagerly broke the seal,
expecting the glad announcement of “all’s
well;” but when be had read a few words,
the color deserted his face which, at once,
became a picture of woe. He hastened
to the trunk of a fallen tree which lay
near him, seated himself, and finished the
peruasl of the sad missive. He leaned
his aching head upon his hands, and a
groan expressed his agony. In a few
minutes he had been changed from an
unusually cheerful, and it may be said a
happy man, to one of the most wretched.
The bolt had struck and riven the oak.
Here is the letter:
“My Hear Henry: It is my painful
duty to convey the most unwelcome news.
You must prepare your mind for the
most blighting intelligence. I should
like to break it gently to you but know not
how to do so ; besides I know your na
ture well enough to think it best to with
hold nothing.
“Your dear Mary and little brother
have ended their troubles in this unhap
py world. You know her condition was
such that she was unable to bear ill
treatment. The Company of Federal
soldiers commanded by Capt. F ,
proceeded to your father’s place on the
iust., impelled, I infer, by the most
malignant purposes, and when they ar
rived there your little brother Willie was
sitting on the gate steps. Some of the
villains asked him if he had not been to
the Confederate Camp in the neighbor
hood. The dear boy told them lie had
been there, whereupon one of them drew
his pistol and instantly killed the
poor child. They then entered the house
and used the most insulting language
to your parents, and commenced the
work of breaking open and ransacking
everything about the premises which
might contain articles cherished or valu
ble. Your Sister Sallie had put all the
plate, jewelry, &c., in her trunk, intending
to send it in a day or two to a safer de
pository. When they came to her trunk
she begged them to spare it; that it
contained articles that were dear to her.
she clung to the casket which contained
her treasures. They cursed her bitterly;
called her ad and rebel ; slapped
her face; knocked her down upon the
floor, and kicked her out of the house.
“After satisfying their disposition to
plunder and rob, they led their horses
into the house and fed them in the
emptied bureau drawers and trunks. One
brute treated your father roughly and
threatened your mother. Your parents
and sisters fled to the woods and con
cealed themselves. Mary was terribly
frightened, and ran all the way to mv
house. She fainted as she was entering
the gate, and was borne into the house,
where all was done for her by kind friends
that was possible; but it grieves me to
say, my dear Henry, that she breathee her
last on the next Jay, with your name upon
her lips. She seemed to be muttering a
prayer.
“This will all be shocking to you, Hen-
rv, and I do not know’how to offer any
consolation ; but. try to bear up under
your heavy afflictions like a man, and
pray God to give you resignation to His
will. Y r our true friend,
William Hopkins ”
This was written by an old friend of
the family ; the Minister in whose church
they worshipped, and his statements
could not be doubted.
Who could appreciate the misery of
the woe-stricken soldier ? Who could
fathom the hate which was so suddenly
fixed in his strong heart for every thing
Federal, and which was to glow and burn
until life itself should become extinct ?
Leaving his seat, he wandered from
camp half distracted. Stopping in the
depth of the forest, and taking the letter
from his bosom, he read it again, and
threw himself upon the ground and wept.
Darkness filled his soul. Becoming more
calm he rose to a kneeling posture; drew
his six-shooter and bowie knife, which had
never been used except in fair fight on
his part; crossed them above his uncov
ered head, and made the following vow:
“I do most solemnly swear before the
great God of all, and from the bottom of
my afflicted heart, that henceforth I will
live for and devote myself to avenging
my dead wife and brother, and my insult
ed and abused parents and sister; that
I will make the blood of Federal devils
flow until I glut and surfeit my very
soul ; that from this time 1 will repudiate
what is called honorable warfare, and
treat them as they deserve and have
treated others; that I will consider my
self an instrument in the providence of
Almighty God, to execute a terrible ven
geance on the most infamous and cow
ardly wretches that ever disgraced the
human kind!”
This was heard by a friend, who, wit
nessing liie effect of the letter at the
camp, had stealthily followed Warren,
fearing some harm might be the conse
quence.
Warren was late in returning to his
quarters. As he approached, one of bis
comrades exclaimed:
“Hallo! Warren ; we have been won
dering what had become of you. Do
you know that you were marked for miss
ing roll-call ?”
But seeing Warren’s haggard counte
nance as he drew nearer, asked with
concern:
•‘What’s the matter ? are you sick ?”
“I am not well, Tom.”
He went to Capt. B , and asked
to be excused for his absence, and handed
him the letter. The Captain read the
epistle and exclaimed:
“My. God !” His mind was filled
with painful thoughts of his own family.
They, too, might be victims to vandal
fury. In a few moments he said, “Cer
tainly, certainly, Warren; you are ex
cused.”
“Captain, I should like to have a fur
lough for thirty or forty days, if possi
ble.”
“Well, Warren, I will sign it and try
to have it approved.’’
As the news went around the company,
the deepest sympathy was aroused for
the afflicted man; not only sympathy for
him, but the strongest indignation towards
his enemies. Some of Warren’s nearest
friends went to him and offered to ren
der any assistance in their power in re
venging the outrages to his family.
Feeling the necessity for something of
the kind, it w T as proposed that a secret
brotherhood should be formed lor Con
federate soldiers which might be extend
ed to citizens, for the purpose of mutual
friendship and assistance, to continue fur
life. The plan was warmly espoused.
Several talented and intelligent gentle
men of the regiment, includ ng the Co'c
nel, were chosen to arrange the details
and give form to the organization, it
was done in writing, which was to be de
stroyed when the formula was well im
pressed upon the memory, and the work
was to be continued by tradition. Eve-
ISTo. 19.