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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.