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her lips on his forehead.
Wiiat would she not have given for an
affectionate glance in return? But no; it
would be cruel to wake the soldier boy
up; then there would be the separation
again, and she knew he was to fight Dext
day; better far that he should gain fresh
strength, and so she noiselessly rose once
more, looked at the brave, heaving bosom,
undisturbed by tossing dreams, and left
the b;irn.
“You will tell Albert I came and
kissed him,” she said to the man outside,
slipping a coin in his hand.
The next day Albert fought again,
and I need not add that he is still spared.
The mother’s kiss is his talisman for life.
Measuring the Baby.
We measured the riotous baby
Agaiust the cottage wall—
A lily grew at the threshold,
And the boy was just as tall;
A royal tiger lily,
With spots of purple and gold,
And a heart like a jeweled chalice,
The fragrant dew to hold.
Without, the bluebirds whistled
High up in the old roof trees,
And to and fro at the window
The red rose rocked her bees ;
And the wee pink fists of the baby
Were never a moment still,
Snatching at shine and shadow
That danced on the lattice-sill!
His eyes were as wide as blue-bells—
His mouth like a tlower unblown—
Two bare little feet, like funny white
mice,
Peeped out from his snowy gown ;
And we thought with a touch of rapture
That yet had a touch of pain,
When June rolls around with her roses,
We’ll measure the boy again.
Ah me! In a darkened chamber,
With the sunshine shut away
Through tears that fell like a bitter rain,
We measured the boy to-day:
And the little bare feet, that were dim
pled
And sweet as a budding rose,
Lay side by side together,
In the hush of a long repose.
Up from the dainty pillow,
White as the risen dawn,
The fair little face lay smiling,
With the light of heaven thereon ;
And the dear little hands, like rose
leaves
Propped from a rose, lay still,
Never to snatch at the sunshine
That crept to the shrouded sill!
We measured the sleeping baby
With ribbons as white as snow,
For the shining rosewood casket
That waited him below!
And out of the darkened chamber
We went with a childless m<>an —
To the height of the sinless angels
Our little one had gone !
Hearth and Home.
A MEMORY LEAF-
My heart.is sad—sad! I know not
why and yet it is so. Olden memories
are thronging it—of loved ones far away
whom my poor eyes have not seen for
years. A good, kind, gray-haired mo
ther, whose melting blue e}’es hath so
oft dwelt upon me ere I was a lonely
wanderer from home—and whose loved
arms hath so often enfolded me. Os a
sweet sister in the long, oh! so long a
gone boyhood time—when at twilight
hour we’ve sat in the lowly cabin door,
and sung the good old songs dear moth
er loved so well. The woodland shadows
fell about our heads as the purple rays
of the sinking sun lit up the western
sky; and the evening air bore off her
echoing minstrel tones on its silent wiims
to the cliffs and hills and valleyes beyond
our home Ah, Sylvia! poor, dead Syl
via—my sister, I remember thee well—
thy tones—the holy light of thine eyes
—the dewy freshness of thy lip; so like
our widowed mother. I loved thee, sis
ter, but the grave holds thee now—has
for many years, and yet thou .art not
forgotten by the wandering brother,
whose heart gtows tender as thy name is
breathed to him by a memory voice—or
loved cue at home.
Oh, the sadness—weariness of an ach
ing heart, when it knows not how to tell
its woe! If I could gather in my long
ing arms, the ferms of those 1 love so
well—unseen for years—it would grow
easy, light, happy. But miles intervene
the thought of which only deepens my
stdness. lam told that my old mother’s
step grows weaker, more feeble, with
each passing hour—that her dear old
eyes are not so light as of old—that her
head is as white as the driven snow or
threads of silver—that her voice crest so
mild and sweet, is low, but musieial as
the whispering winds. Ob, Heaven! is
it so? Is my poor, poor mother thus
passing away to the Better Land, and me
a dreamy, careless wanderer from home?
—unconscious that age has beeD creeping
thus upon her! Is it true that she will
soon be slathered home to Him, who
knoweth the woo of a weary heart—who
grieves as he views the bitter, bitter
tears I weep. 0 can we not stay the
hand of cruel Time? See! it bears my
mother away in an icy, death-cold grasp
—the yawing earth receives her wither
ing form—the clear light of her blue eye
is shut out forever; and yet I cannot,
Heaven will not stay the relentless tread
of Time! We cannot save her. Her
hair is silver now, we cannot by our
prayers make it brown again—her eyes
are dim with age, but we are powerless
to give them light. Oh, I can but think
—think—think, and become almost a
maniac with thinking!
And little sister of the olden time,
black-eyed Julia. I remember thee, too;
and how well thy brother loves thee yet.
Playmate of childhood, sweet sister, I
casnot, would not, forget thee! And
brothers are not in oblivion buried by
the wanderer; but kindly remembered.
Ah! anew pain strikes like a death-thrill
through my heart. One is gone—poor
Gus—dead, sleeping in the cemetary, the
grave-yard so far away. Do clear, white
stones mark his rest place? The others
are there too —they have something to tell
where they sleep—a last gift from loved
ones, but has dear Gus? And because
he is no more, my mother £rows feeble
faster. Something tells me that, for
she loved him well—loves all fondly—
even her wild, wandering, careless, blue
eyed boy. And mother, I bless thee for
it, worship thee—and shall mourn thee
more when thou art gone to the spirit
land, where father, Sylvia, and the two
dead brothers dwell.
But good night! When the autumn
comes, and the fruits, ripe and golden,
strew the ground, the yellow leaves are
falling, the trees are growiug bare, and
the winds sigh softly, mournfully through
the woodlands around home, I’ll ceme
to you. Again, goon night.
J can More.
thTpFe.
HIS AGE, HEALTH AND DUTIES.
Father Quinn, of St. Peter’s Church
in New York, has returned from his
visit to Rome, and on Sunday evening
last he delivered a lecture to his congre
gation, in which he alluded to the Pope
as follows:
Father Quinn said that the Pope, as
they were well aware, is not a young
man. His years now number nearly
eighty. He has reigned in the chair of
St. Peter longer than auy Pontiff since
the days of Peter himself. If he passes
the coming feasts of Saints Peter and
Paul (25th of June 1871,) he will have
passed the days of Peter; and few believe
he will die before that time. Doubtless,
however, he is getting ready to be called
away. Life is uncertain, especially
when one has arrived at a very advanced
age, as the Holy Father has. The Itali
ans have a saying, ‘‘No Pope will ever
see ‘the days of Peter.’” From the fact
that he has literary men of the greatest
talent employed in writing his life and
compiling the results of his pontificate, it
seems that he does not expect to outlive
“the days of Peter;” and doubtless he is
daily preparing for the summons when
God shall call him to his reward.
Notwithstanding the advanced age of
the Holy Father, he undergoes much
labor without apparent weariness. In the
morning, after saying mass, he partakes
of a frugal breakfast, and then receives
the reports of the members of his govern
ment, and counsels with them on all mat
ters of importance. He is then prepared
to give audience to Bishops, or distin
guished strangers who desire to see him,
and these audiences last for a long time.
Not only are Catholics awaiting oppor
tunity to obtain audience, but Protestauts
and men of no religion at all are found
among those who fi.il the ante-chamber of
the audience-room; and to all these he
gives his blessing. During all this time
lie never sits, always stands. To every
one who is presented he has something
to say, sometimes his language is of a
humorous turn; at others of a grave
character, according as the person pre
sented and the circumstances warrant.
He converses with those presented some
times in Italian, sometimes in French,
and sometimes in Latin, or whatever may
be the language in which the auditor ad
dress him. Oftentimes these audiences
Oftentimes these audiences occupy three
or more hours consecutively, aud fre
quently five hundred persons are pre
sented to him in one day. He performs
the religious 1 unctions in St. Peter’s with
as much ease as a Bishop of forty or fifty
years can do. When incensing the altar
Mill®©l
at solemn Pontifical Mass, he makes every
genuflexiou, and swings the censor with
as much grace as could le expected in
a young and agile ecclesiastic. When
officiating at solemn functions, he sings
in a peculiar sweet and charming man
ner; and it is a noted fact in Rome
that he fills the vast arena of St.
Peter’s better and with more ease
than any Bishop or Cardinal can
do it. On Easter Sunday, the speak
er saw and heard him officiate in
that grand Basilica, and stood not more
than eighty feet from the high altar, so
that he could observe every movement
distinctly, On that great feast-day the
Holy Father had been fasting from the
evening of the previous day, and in the
morning was strongly urged by the cham
berlain of his household to take a cup of
coffee or something to sustain nature
while undergoing the labors of the cere
monial of the solemn Pontifical Mass,
which lasted for many hours; b.ut he re
plied, “No; this may be the last Easter
Sunday on which I shall have the hap
piness to officiate, and I shall make no
exception to the rule of fasting in my
own case. The Pope, as all were aware,
can dispense himself from the obligation
of fasting, which every Priest is obliged
to observe in saying Mass; for obliga
tion is not a divine law, but an ecclesias
tical one, and the Pope can dispense any
one from a mere ecclesiastical law, if
there be cause for the dispensation. On
the occasion of this function there was a
large procession to take part in it. The
Holy Father waited with most com
mendable patience for this procession to
form, and, when it moved, he closed it,
blessing as he went along through the
vast area of St. Peter, the immense mass
es of people who crowded into the edi
fice by thousands. The Pope, in fact, is
blessing everybody, everywhere, and all
the time. Father Quinn never saw him
in the street, in the Church, or hardly
anywhere else, that he was not impart
ing his benediction to numbers of peo
ple who crowded around him. On Eas
ter Sunday he gave his blessings to the
whole world from tne balcony of St.
Peter’s. This a yearly custom. The
p'aza, or square in front of St. Peter’s,
is of immense size. It is surrounded by
a terrace, on which arc numbers of most
exquisite statues. This is supported by
five rows of stone pillars, so placed that,
when you stand iu the centre of the
plaza you can see but one ot these rows.
In the centre of this great plaza there is
an obelisk—one solid stone—the largest
in the world. In this plaza, on Easter
Sunday referred to, there were at least
*200,000 people assembled, all looking
anxiously at the balcony, and awaiting
the appearance of the Holy Father. At
last he came out upon it. He first chant
ed the preparatory prayer used on the oc
casion; then he rose up to his full height,
lifted his eyes toward Heaven in a man
ner more impressive than language can
describe, and extending his arm, impart
ed his blessing to the entire world. The
effect was visible over the whole of the
vast concourse of people, mixed up as it
was of men of every nation and and eve
ry creed. The speaker was standing
about 300 yards distant from the Pope at
the time, and could testify that he heard
with the utmost distinctness every word
that was uttered by him. There were
others, friends of Father Quinn, who stood
on the outermost edge of the multitude,
and they informed the speaker that they
had no difficulty whatever in hearing
every syllable. He mentioned these facts
in order te give his hearers an idea how
excellent was the condition of the health
of the Sovereign Pontiff, who, from pre
sent indications, he thought, would prove
the old Italian adage to be untrue; for,
so far as mere human judgment can war
rant such a conclusion, Pius IX. will
see aud probably pass beyond the “days
of Peter.” ”
NEW ORLEANS (LAMIORRESPONDENCE
OF THE BANNER OF THE SOUTH.
New Orleans, Sept., 20th, 1870.
Editors Banner of the South:
Early this month we had a few autum
nal days, during which letter-writing was
practicable; but within the past fortnight,
Summer and mosquitoes have returned
knocking correspondence sky-high. The
mores the pity, since the present week
furnishes some first rate material for a
penny-a-liner.
What better target for sarcasm, for in
stance, than the continued refusal of the
Radical Board to re-open the Public
Schools. What simpler theme for an es
say on the Decline of Decency, than the
sensual display of full sized, pictorial,
nude figures, at the theatre doors on out
most frequented thoroughfare, St. Charles
street ? \Y hat filter subject for comment
than the tone of some ot our newspapers,
which, editorially, cry out an indignant
denial of the existence of any dangerous
l r eilow Fever here, while in the same
issue they announce officially a daily
mortality of eight or ten deaths by that
disease.
But besi ’es these and numerous other
sensational items of the day, there have
been two or three most suggestive oc
currences adaptad to descriptive pens of
a higher order than those of the common
place Bohemian. There was, for in
stance, the first official visitation of the
Most Rev. Archbishop Perche to the
quasi suburban Parish of St. Stephen, on
Sunday last. Early in the afternoon,
all the Societies of the congregation as
sembled under their respective banners,
and proceeded iu grand array to meet his
Lordship who soon approached in a
splendid barouche drawn by four white
horses, and.attended by a mounted escort
of gentlemen who had accompanied him
from the Episcopal residence, four miles
distant. The procession, having received
this cortege within its open ranks, re
turned by Napoleon Avenue to the
Church door, where his Grace was re
ceived under a rich canopy and escorted
up to the altar. Here, with all the ap
propriate ceremonials, he administered
the important Sacrament of Confirmation
to a large number of Catholic children
and many converts of advanced age.
These things I knew only by heresay,
having been unfortunately denied the
privilege of witnessing them; but the
verbal accounts which have reached me
were so enthusiastic that I hope some of
your subscribers in that part of the city
will have the happy idea of sending you
a detailed account of the whole affair,
not omitting the cloqent address of wel
come delivered in the name of the con
gregation by the silver-haired patriarch
John Connelly, Esq.
The next day, Monday, occurred an
other event accompanied by an equally
grand ceremonial, and of much more
general local interest. This was nothing
less than the solemnization of a Golden
Wedding at Grand High Mass in that
most magnificent of our city temples, the
Redernptorist Church of St. Alphonsus.
The nave, aisles and galleries of this ca
pacious edifice were crowded to an unu
sual extent by citizeus of all ages of
every condition of life, each one of whom
felt an especial personal interest in the
ceremony, so much endeared to the heart
of New Orleans at large, has become that
noble patriarchal couple, Mr. and Mrs.
Henry Green , the Bride and Groom of
ihi occasion.
Fifty years ago this happy couple was
first married in Baltimore, and although
for nearly a quarter of a century Mr.
Grceu has carried on his shoulders the
multifarious and responsible business—
management of one of the largest newspa
per offices in the enerva i ig atmosphere of
this city, he looks to-day, with his wide
awake eyes, his broad shoulders, his ex
pansive chest, his erect, towering, almost
gigantic form, and his springy, youthful
step—as if he might, not unreasonably
calculate on another fifty years of useful
ness before he quits this vale of tears.
Asa lady remarked on the occasion, the
bride and groom looked as blooming as
a pair of Evergreens !
May their posterity follow their exam
ple in keeping themselves always ready
for the day of transplanting, whenever it
may come. Persevere.
Point Lookout (Md.) Cemetery and
tiie Confederate Dead.— The Board of
Directors of this cemetery met at Leonard
town, and resolved to erect a vault near
Point Lookout for the reception of the re
mains of the Confederate dead, and to
raise a suitable monument to their
memory. Captain George Thomas, Hon.
Thomas Martin, Colonel J. Parran Crane,
and James R. Langley, were appointed to
caj-ry out the object (l the meeting. An
address will be prepared and sent to all
parts of the State on the subject. Ii is
aiso propsed by the young men of Leonard
town to got u r) a g ; - a pd tournament on the
15th ot November in aid of the scheme,
and knights will be invited from the three
adjoining counties. Hon. Barnes Comp
ton, of Charles county, will be invited to
make the address.
Impeachment of Governor Holden.
— Washington, September 22. —A pri
vate letter from Raleigh, N. C., received
nere, stales that soon after the meeting of
the new Legislature articles of impeach
ment will be preferred against Governor
Holden, and that, as far as the facts are
now known, no doubt is felt that a two
thirds Vvjte of the House of the Legisla
ture wiil be secured in favor of them for
trial in the Senate. He will be charged
with the violation of the habeas corpus
clause of the Constitution, and the laws of
the Legislature of that State made in pur
suance thereof, though other specifications
will bo ioeluued in the proposed indictment.
A Tragic Incident.— E Industrie! Al
sicien gives the following little incident
from before Strasbourg:
A dead officer of Zouaves was found at
the side of a headless peasant. From all
appearances, and according to the testi
mony of some wounded, the officer having
; fainted from loss of blood of a mortal
wound, was being robbed by this peasant,
who, after having rifled his pockets, at
tempted to cut a money-belt from his
body, and handling the knife carelessly,
stuck the point into the abdomen of the
wounded man. Recalled to life for a mo
ment bj the pain of the wound, the
wounded officer started up, and seizing the
hyena of the battle-field by the hair, he
cut his head off with his sabre, which he
still held clutched in his hand. Then he
fell back dead, exhausted with this last
supreme effort. Thus they were found,
the headless peasant still holding on to the
money belt and knife, and the dead officer
with his bloody sabre and the robber’s
hea lin his hands. The spectacle told a
tale of horor which it would be hard to
surpass.
How the Empress Escaped.
To the Editor of the Daily Telegraph.
Sir : So far as I have been able to sec,
the accounts of the Empress’s escape from
the revolutionized capital on Sunday,
which have been published in this country,
are imperfect and inaccurate. I have just
returned from Paris, where I hrd special
opportunities for observing the stirring
events of Sunday: and I give you what I
know to be the true story of Her Majesty’s
escape:
The deposition of the Napoleon dynasty
was voted in the Corps Legislate about 1
o’clock on Sunday afternoon. At 2 o’clock
M. Pietri —then Prefect of Police—rush
ed breathlessly into the Empress’s apart
ments at the Tuiileries with the start ing
announcement and warning: “The de,
cheance has been declared. I have not a
moment to lose. Save your life, Madame,
as I am now hastening to save my own!”
Then he disappeared—and with go< and rea
son too, for the Revolutionary Govern
ment would give something to be able to
lay hands upon him now. The Empress
found herself alone with her old and trusty
secretary and friend, Madame le Breton,
and with M. Ferdinand de Lcsseps, who
both earnestly urged her to fly at once.
But her high spirit made this a most un
palatable counsel It wa3 a cowardice —
une lachele—to desert the palace. She
would rather be treated as was Marie An
toinette by the mob than seek safety in
an unworthy flight. For a time all per
suasion was useless; but at length Her
Majesty’s mood calmed somewhat, and
she saw the utter uselessness of remain
ing.
Attended only by the two companions wc
have named, the Empress fled through the
long gallery of the Louvre; but suddenly
her course was stopped short by a locked
door. The little party could distinctly
hear the shouts cf the crowds who were
lavadimr the private gardens ot the Tuiile
ries. M. de Lesseps, to gain time, pro
posed that he should go out on the terrace
aud get the soldiers on guard to hold back
the people for a few minutes, while in ad
dition he would delay the crowds by ad
dressing them. The resort to this expe
dient was not necessary. Madame le
Breton Lund the key, opened the door
that had obstruc ed their progress, and
gave egress to Her M«je>ty, who, accom
panied only by her tried friend, issued into
the street at the bottom of the Louvre.
There they hurriedly entered a common
fiacre , not without a risk of detection on
the spot, for a dimunkive gamin de Paris
more chan 12 years old, shouted’
“ Viola Vlmperatrice!" Luckily, no one
about heard or heeded him ; aod the cab
gor safely away with the two ladies.
drove to M. de Lissep’s house in
she Boulevard de Malesherbes, where the
Empress sat until she was joined by M.
de Metternich, who did what he could to
facilitate her departure to a place of safety.
Later in the evening, the Empress, still
accompanied by Madame le Breton, drove
to the Gare du Nord, escaped all detection
—thanks to the thick vail which she wore
—and at 7 o clock rolled safe and unsus
pected away toward the Belgian frontier.
I am, sir, yours, <&c., VoYAGEUR.
Cat l ton Club, September S.
Bishop Lynch in Brooklyn.—The
New York demos, of Monday last, says:
Right Rev. P. N. Lynch, Catholic
Bishop of the Diocese of Charleston, 8.
C,, preached yesterday iu St. Patrick’s
Church, Kent Avenue, near Myrtle,
Brooklyn, in aid of trie fund now being;
raised to rebuild the Catholic institu
tions of that community which lost
almost every building- they owned
devoted to religious and charitable pur
poses. Their grand Cathedral, the Con
vent of the Sister’s of Mercy, the Boys’
Orphan Asylum, the Girls’ Asylum, the
free School, the Hospital—all fell before
the ravages ot the destroying elemeut.
In addition to tills, tho war has so im
poverished the Catholics of the Charles
ton Diocese, that they are unable to re
| build the institutions thus swept away.
In order to assist them in so doing, tiie
Bishop lias felt it to be his duty to appeal
to the charity of their more fortunate
brethren in the North to give of their
means in oid ot the suffering ones of his
flock; and his appeal at St. Patrick’s
yesterday met with a noble and gener
ous response, as, in fact, do all calls for
the exercise of charity 'when presented
to this congregation. St. Patrick’s, it
will be recollected, is the church in which
over ssoo was subscribed atone Sunday
morning service in aid of the widows,
orphans, and other sufferers by the great
calamity 'A Avondale, Penn , last year,
where cO many miners lost their fives.
3