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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