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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
