Funding for the digitization of this title was provided by the Burke County Genealogical and Historical Society.
About The Independent South. (Waynesboro, Ga.) 1860-186? | View Entire Issue (Feb. 1, 1862)
AYNESBORO, GA., SATURDAY, The moping mongrel, sparsely cross ed With Puritanic seed— The Boston bards who join the chaso With genuine beagle chime, And Sumner, snarling poodle pet Of virgins past their prime ; And even the sluts of women's Rights— Tray, Blanch and Sweet-heart, all Are yelping shrill against us still, And hunger for our fall ! " Look North, look East, look West— the scene Is blackening all around— The Negro Cordon, year by year, Is fast and faster bound ; The black line crossed—the sable fl«s. Surrounded l>v a host— Our out-post forced our sentinels Asleep upon their posts ; Our brethren’s life-blood flowing free To stain the Kansas sod. And shed in vain, while pious thieves Arc fattening on onr toil ! Look North, look West, the omi nous sky Is moonless, starless, black, And from the East comes hurrying up A sweeping thunder rack ! aIpii of the South ! ye have no kin- With Our IAist Fcstavnl* BT Jins. E. C. FOSTER. Christmnst is comming, with its frolic and song and cheer ; with its happy gathering and grand annun ciation Hymn stealing down to us through the harsh discords of nearly 1900 years ! But brings it no blight for the heart! no shadow for the hearth-stone! From its matin chant miss we no silvery voice, that once mingled in the loud anthem of praise and thanksgiving, which first reverbrated on the star-lit plain of Bethlehem, and gladdened earth with the soul-stiring chorus of “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will to men 1” Has no light gone-out, that once hound in your household, and lent its beautiful ofl’ulgence to gild the cloml that may sometimes flit a- tlnvart your pathway here ? God of the smitten heart and weary feet, sustain us amid the dark ness and desolation of onr present hallowed anniversary. Spirit voices from onr red battle-grounds, still wet with human gore, call upon us to forget them not, when around the [ old family hoard the loved ones j crowd, to commemorate the sweet- 1 est and dearest epoch in the world’s s history. In the mournful requiem u that rose up from Rama, a thou sand responses from Manassas.swell the dirge for the young, and brave, s and gifted,’ whose life-stream gusfied j amid the fatal strife of the memora- I ble21stof July. From Potomac’s murmuring waters to the last silver stream that minors in beauty the “Southern Cross” of the skies, sleep our heroes, awaiting the blast that shall startle the sepulchral genera tions of earth. Tremendous hour ! when the blood of the slain thousands that enriches every hillock and vale of our beauti ful land, shnll flow at the feet of the Lincolns, Sewards, Scotts, Cam erons, and Chases, who have waged upon us this monstrous and desolat ing crusade; und shall prove the impassable gulf, which shnll sepa rate them forever from the saving appliance of Eternal Mercy ! Stained with blood and crime, and weeping for more worlds to enslave, ell the madman of Mncedon ; yet, is the shadow of the pale angel be an to darken the dise ot his desti- f, the dying embers of virtue glowed his heathen soul, arid his last fords were worth a prince of Clirist- ldom. Tho greatest of the Ciesars elded to the victor with the senti ent of affection burning in that ightv soul, which was soon to reap, the harvest of eternal recompense, e seed he had sown on a thousand [ittlc-fields. And ho who “know hut ambition,” loved “The till the last bloom of the ;v receded be ! A lb
