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[For The Sunny South.] THE OLD BATTLE-FLAG. BY PHARMAX. Tnfnrl it slowly, for 'tis tattered and torn,— Handle it gently, for ’tis battered and worn; Ita colors are faded, its texture is thin, Its Cross and its Stars from age have grown dim. Yes, unfurl it tenderly—let us look once again On its once bright folds, now faded and plain; Let us call up memories from out of the past, And live them over while the bright vision lasts; Let us bring up the heroes who under it fell, And speak of our comrades who loved it so well. Can you in memory go back in Time’s flight And live over with me the past for to-night ? Can you recall in remembrance when the Stripes and the Stars Were lowered to give place to the Stars and the Bars? Can you see the brave men who never knew fear Leaving home, friends, kindred, and all they hold dear, To defend their fair land or lie low on the sod, Their spirits at rest and at home with their God ? /Jan you aee them, as you once did, in battle array, And hear their mad shout as they won the hard day ? Can you see our proud banner, aloft and unfurled, As the gray ranks in charge were on the foe hurled ? Can you, in memory, stand by the death-bed Of Rome loved one in gray, whose blood has been shed In defense of his rights, his country, home and wife— Which was dearer than all, even dearer than life? Can you stand by his side and catch his last sigh As bis soul leaves the body and ascends to the sky? Can you hear his last words, to be uttered again, And think that his young life was all spent in vain ? Look agaiu ! Let your thoughts go back to the past, And rest on Appomattox, where the last die was cast. Hear the war-worn veterans, you can but remember, As in low tones they murmur, “We will never surrender!" See them weep, and with bow’d forms and still lower head, When told it was hopeless — that their just cause was dead. Hark ! at the cannon's roar—do you hear the muskets rattle ? Do you again fight under our Cross as the troops go into battle ? Look at our Battle-Flag, as 'tis held aloft on high! Hear that wild hurrah!—it is their battle-cry! Oh! God, ’tis down! Listen at that wild cry, As its defenders rush forward to regain it or to die! Again it is aloft! Hear that wild shout!—they run,— The enemy are retreating and the hard-fought day is won. Alas! ’tis only a dream! the bright vision has fled, For the forms of our heroes now lie silent and dead. The memory of our loved cause was too bright and pure to last, And can only be remembered now as a dream of the past. Yes, ’twas only a dream, for our cause, however just, Was buried with the heroes who have long since turned to dust. Then take this Flag and furl it—put it up where you will— For, like those who fought under it, it is cold, dead and still. [For The Sunny South.] LENA ASHI HST'S MISTAKE; OR. Edgar Stanton’s Inertia. A STORY OP SOUTHERN LIFE. BY MRS. LOIS R. WILSON. CHAPTER I. The ball was at its height. The smiling host ess moved through the rooms, delighted to see that all went “ merry as a marriage bell.” A few wall-flowers, however, seemed silently to re proach her social tactics, and she glanced around in search of partners for these. Her eye fell upon a tall young gentleman leaning with indo lent grace on the back of an antique chair, and surveying the scene in a leisurely and rather supercilious manner. lie was unknown to Mrs. Lassiter, and though high-bred and even distin guished in appearance, the lady felt a slight vex ation at the thought that he had intruded into her parlors, sacred to the elite. As she stood in some uncertainty, his eye met hers, and she sud denly recollected that he must he the son of a wealthy planter whom she well knew; but he had been absent in Europe for two or three years, completing his studies, and she had not . heard of his return. “Edgar Stanton?” she exclaimed, coming up to him with her sweetest smile, and extending a white-gloved hand; c“an this be you?” He bowed with much grace. “It is I, madame. I feel flattered that you remember me. I did not think any one here would recognize me to-night. Pardon me for coming uninvited to your entertainment; but remembering your kindness of yore, I risked a welcome.” “There was no risk at all; you knew you were heartilv welcome. I am delighted to have you here. Do you recognize any of your old ac quaintances ?” “A few among the elder faces. The others have passed beyond my recognition.” “ You must make yourself known to them and obtain a partner. The music is good to-night; will you not dance?” “Certainly, madame, if you will honor me.” He held out his hand with another bow, and a smile that revealed the gleam of white teeth through his dark mustache. “Fie!" exclaimed the lady, tapping his arm with her fan. “Do you imagine that I would expose myself to the envy of so many charming young ladies by appropriating such an eligible partner ? Not I. You must let me present you. Look around over • this garden of girls ’ and select one that pleases you.” “ Madame, they are all pleasant to look upon," replied the voung man gallantly. “Look around, nevertheless,” returned the hostess; and she watched him with some anxiety as his dark eye again ran around the room with a careless, smiling, but really observant way. There were young ladies of all styles: blonde and dark, tall and petite; young ladies in pink and blue and white draperies—a veritable par terre. His eye singled out a tall, fair girl, in a robe of floating gossamer, with a single diamond star above her forehead. ; “A magnolia among the roses, ’ was his thought. "Who is the young lady in white, with the star coronet?” he asked of the matron on his arm. “Ah! do yon, too, place your heart at her feet?” said the lady, swallowing her chagrin ; for her own daughter—pretty, dimpled Minnie- had not been noticed, though she stood in the constellation that was grouped around the star. “Lena Ashurst is accustomed to having hearts at her feet—and under them as well,” she added in a lower tone and with a meaning smile. “A female Juggernaut is she ?—heart-crushing, but heartless herself ? „ “ Oh. I did not sav that, Mr. Stanton, at all. “Then I inferred'it from what I remember of Miss Ashurst in lang syne." “You know her, then?” knew her very well. Our fathers were old college chums, and their plantations join. He did not add that it was the cherished wish , of their respective fathers to bring about a mar- 1 riage between Miss Ashurst and himself. “ I thought her a tricky sprite in those days— j a very imp of mischief and waywardness—and j she thought me something worse.” “I need not introduce you. then?” “You may, if yon please. I am sure she re tains no recollection of me.” There was a lull in the dancing, and they passed easily through the room to the attractive corner where Miss Ashurst stood among her ad mirers. As they came up, they heard her decline to dance the next set on the score of fatigue. “My dear Lena,” said Mrs. Lassiter, “I have come to add another to the charmed circle you have drawn around you. Mr. Stanton asks to renew his acquaintance with Miss Ashurst.” She gave a little start of surprise and a quick glance at the gentleman presented; then bent her head over her bouquet in acknowledgment of the introduction. She exchanged a few com monplace remarks with the new addition to her coterie, but not one word of previous acquaint ance—no reminiscence of lang syne. He felt They had moved toward the hall door, and now stood on the threshold looking on the si lent city sleeping in the moonlight below. • The tall spires of many churches glittered like enormous stilettos. A solemn hush was upon all nature, wrapped in a winding sheet of snow, and over all lay the broad, white light of the moon, riding so high and cold in the steel- blue sky. Out on the still air pealed the twelve strokes of the city clock, which told to listening ears that the old year, with its hopes and fears, was dead. “ The king is dead! Long live the king!” said Edgar; and then in a tone of reverence and real feeling, so different from his usual one of nonchalance, quoted softly: “ • Full knee-deep lies the winter snow, And the winter winds are wearily sighing; Toll ye the church-bells sad aud low, And tread softly aud speak low. For the old year lies a-dying.’ “Do you like Tennyson ? If not, I’ll convert you. But good-night; you’ll take cold if yon stand here, and then I shall be blamed and put the young people should be married at some day not very far distant. The Colonel had been known to say openly once: “ When you are mistress at La Grange, my dear, and Fred has found some nice little girl like Winnie Lassiter to preside here at the “Oaks,” I will have seen my dearest hopes real ized.” But she had some ideas out of the common run, chief among which was the truth that a man has higher duties than eating and drinking and self-indulging generally. And as she saw this man, who was to be the arbiter of her fate, “rusting out,” as she termed it—wrapped up in self, without anj’ apparent ennobling impulse, she felt that she could never promise to love, honor and obey him. Daily she tried to bring herself to speak to her father of it; but to this straightforward course there was one objection, and an insuperable one. Edgar, although fall ing in with the current of action toward her as his affianced wife, had never asked her in so many words. This she believed to be the result of his thinking she would be delighted at such a consummation. It chafed her, and was often the ‘SHE ESPIED SOMETHING IX/HIS/HAND,'OVER, WHICH HE, WAS' BENDING INTENTEY.” ICH disappointed; but in a little while she said qui etly: “Mr. Stanton, yon are a stranger; you have not seen Mrs. Lassiter’s new fountain by moon light. Come and see how lovely.” : She led him to the window at the farther end of the room, and showed him the silver jet spark ling in the moonlight, in the midst of its circle of evergreens. “I did not know yon,” she said. “You are much changed.” “Thank you for the compliment.” “How do you know it is one? How do you know that I do not prefer the boy Edgar to the traveled and polished Mr. Stanton ?” “That can harly be. I have not forgotten your mortal antipathy to the hoy Edgar; indeed, I have a faint recollection of a box on the ear, administered by your fair hand.” | She laughed and colored. “You were such a tease,” she said; “so fond of poking dry, quiet fun at me. And you were so provokingly hard to provoke. Well, have you forgiven the box?” “I will do so now, on condition that you he- ' stow the hand that gave it upon me,—don’t frown; I mean for a dance—not just now, hut some time later this evening. Just now I am quite well satisfied, and I prefer to look on and philosophize. What a labor those dancers are making of pleasure. Look at that knight of the rueful countenance advancing and retreating before his vis-a-vis. He could not look more thoroughly miserable if she were a loaded blun derbuss in the hands of his deadliest enemy. He does not know what to do with his feet, and would hike half price for his hands.” “For shame! The poor young man is enjoy ing himself. He is not as indolent as you are— content to sit or lounge at your ease ” “And look at and talk to you. Are not you content also?” She flushed. He seemed to be taking it too much for granted that she was satisfied to sit and talk to him. “No,” she answered, as the cotillion closed and a waltz was played. “There is Verdi’s ex quisite music, and I am losing my waltz. No, indeed.” He sprang to his feet and held out his hand, but she did not move. “Will you not waltz with me?” “I think not.” •, “But you said ” “That I liked to waltz with a good partner, and Major Ay re is a capital one. I am engaged to him for the waltz. Ah ! here he is.” A mustached and stately personage approached, : bent over Miss Ashurst with a look of homage, and claimed her hand for the waltz. She gave Stanton a little smile and wave of the hand, and floated away. He watched her with a twinkle in his eye, “Flirt to the centre,” was his mental com ment. “ Good-looking fellow, but indolent and self worshipping. I’ll try to wake him up to the knowledge that he has a heart,” was what passed through her mind as she whirled round to Ver di’s music. He hunted up his hostess' daughter, Miss Win nie, and devoted himself to her for the rest of the evening. Miss Ashurst danced and flirted with Major Ayre until that gentleman’s head was turned with delight. The ball came finally to an end, as everything terrestial is bound to do. Edward lingered last of all. He had devoted himself with marked assiduity to Miss Lassiter, who. simple little soul, attributed bis attentions to the power of her attractions. “I have had only a glimpse of you, my dear boy; you must come to us to-morrow for a quiet dinner.” said Mrs. Lassiter, in a motherly way. “I shall be on my winding way to-morrow to le bon pere, else I should be most happy.” "Do you go so soon? You will have the so ciety of our young ladies to Wynton.” ••Indeed!” he exclaimed with animation. “Shall you go to-morrow?” turning to Lena. “ We do, Winnie and I. Shall he glad to make our duet a trio; which will be made a quartette at the station, as Fred meets me there with the carriage. Will you accept the extra seat ?” “Most gladly.” in the Same category with the man who tears his ! partner’s dress and steps on her foot. Aa re- voir.” „ And he went away laughing. Then Lefta looked after him a moment, shivered, turned away and went to woo the drowsy god. The next day they were seated in the cars, and after a few hours’ delightful ride, arrived at “ Wynton,” where an elegant carriage, drawn by shining black horses, awaited them; and as the evening sun lay aslant the hills, they drove into the avenue leading to the “Oaks,” the residence of Miss Ashurst, where they were welcomed by that warm and unaffected greeting once so char acteristic of our Southern homes. you ought to see that they are properly cared for, and not govern them through uninterested over seers. Your father being disabled by gout and general ill-health, it is your manifest duty to take this burden on your own shoulders.” “ Your ideas are the result of your Northern teaching. I presume.” said he. “I will not insult my loved South by saying yours are the result of your Southern teaching," she replied warmly. “ No, they are the emana tion of a selfish nature backed bv constitutional inertia.” “We have been quarreling all day. Lena, and I don’t think I am the cause of it,” said Edgar, as she entered the house and went to her room. A bath and a few hours’ repose quite restored Lena to a comfortable state of mind and body. Attiring herself in a cool, white muslin, confined at the belt by a broad blue sash, handing her hair with ribbons of the same hue, she went below stairs on a search for Edgar. Now that her irritations had worn off, she could but acknowl edge that she had been unreasonably severe and unwarrantably out of sorts generally. Repentant, she sought him in the library, where ‘the shadows were beginning to gather, and a sweet South wind gently swaying the laee curtains to and fro. He was not there; his blue and gold Tennyson lay on the carpet near his accustomed lounge. A peep into the parlor sat isfied her that it was vacant also, and a spasm of regret and apprehension seized her lest he had taken her at her word and gone home. She passed on rapidly to her mother’s room, where with the freedom assigned him he was some times to be found; and there, through the door opening upon it, she saw him seated on the vine-wreathed gallery, his figure standing out in black distinctness against the erimsoa even ing sky. She espied something in his hand, over which he was bending intently, and mov ing up lightly toward him, saw a rather carica tured representation of herself, engaged in her favorite piscatory pursuit—standing on a log that jutted from the bank, with head bare, hair tumbled about, her neck and eyes eagerly intent on the fish that dangled from her hook. “So Mr. Stanton boasts artistic talent among his many accomplishments,” she said disdain fully. He looked np. “Don’t yon like the picture? I was just amusing myself in your absence.” “At my expanse,” she replied, her indigna tion rising as she met his somewhat quizzical gaze. “ You might have been better employed riding home, I think really. ” “Do yon really wish me to go home?” he asked. “I do.” “Take care ! you might wish to see me before you do so again,” he cried, rising with sparkling eyes and an expression of countenance she hail never seen him wear before. “I’ll risk it,’’she returned haughtily. “Very well,” said he with equal hauteur. “Remember this,—I have been very patient of your whims and caprices, because I loved you. 1 have home your taunts and gibes because I knew that despite my ‘ selfish nature and con stitutional inertia,’ I carried that within me which only required the developing power of circumstance to challenge your admiration; and I knew that one day, sooner or later, you would discover, that you were not the embodied pene tration and wisdom of the nation. Until then, adieu;” and he bowed coldly and left her. : _ I She stood a moment, surprised and over cause of many rude acts and rude speeches, all j whelmed by this unexpected outburst; then all of which he bore with such exasperating cool ness that she ,at last perceived it to he her bounden duty to mortify the spirit of this self- her instincts of hospitality cried out against his departure at that hour. “Papa,” she cried, as that gentleman came enamored sinner. She was but half right, how- j into her mother’s room, “do go and ask Edgar CHAPTER II. Some months later, at an early honr in August, breakfast was just'over at the “Oaks,” and the young people, Lena, Fred, and Edgar Stanton, who had spent the night with his friend and j possible brother-in-law, stood on the gallery en joying the cool air. The birds in the magnifi cent trees which overshadowed the house sung as if their being would dissolve in music.' Through the umbrageous multitude of leaves, as the light wind swayed them gently to and fro, one could catch glimpses of a blue, blue sky, cul tivated fields and meadows, and the broad stretch of woodland standing dark and still and cool in its own primeval shadow, and faraway the glim mer of white cabins at the “quarter.” Suddenly the stillness of the air was broken by the harsh, jarring note of the locust in a tree near by. “There’s our signal—our caloric thermome ter !” exclaimed Fred, throwing away the stump of a cigar. “ This fishing frolic is one of your many vagaries of taste, sister. ” “I shall not insist upon your presence, my dear brother. Fortunately, I can bait my own hooks and know the path. Edgar can be ex cused also if he desires it." “Not by any means; for having made up my mind to be martyrized to-day, I cannot forego the complacency of conscience engendered thereby.” “I thought complacency your chronic condi tion.” “ If you are going to make a target of me with your usual amiability, I think it prudent to brace myself with an extra coat of mail. Com mend my wisdom.” “Here is your lunch, my dears,” said the house-mother, appearing with a basket. “Yon had best go before the sun gets above the tree- tops. ” Lena turned, went into the hall, took a straw gypsy from the hat-rack, tied it under her chin with a blue ribbon, then ran back to the young gentlemen, unconscious how pretty and saucy she was looking. Her plain, dark gingham was re lieved by many ruffles at the wrists and throat, where a blue ribbon confined it; a white apron coquettish!}’ tied in an enormous bow behind completed a toilette at once simple and charm ing. Then began the confusion incident on such occasions. One little negro brought the bait writhing and squirming in its unaccustomed quarters; another brought the poles; one was sent scurrying off for some forgotten article, which he brought, and also a reinforcement of his kind, until some half dozen were collected, watching open-mouthed the manners of the “whitefolks.” and thinking the height of human felicity would be permission to go with them; but toone gany- uiede alone was this enviable boon vouchsafed. Everything arranged, they went to the fishing creeks. For some distance, Lena and Edgar walked silently .together; he mentally agreeing with Weller that a rum creature is woman; and she thinking that this young man, with his natural fine ability, handsome person and immense wealth, should never call her wife until he had discarded his petit maitre airs and learned to think more of others by thinking less of himself. She had been growing more and more dissatified with the husband of her father’s selection as each month rolled away, and yet she shrank un speakably from disappointing the hope which she knew lay nearest his heart. It appeared to ; ever, as she afterwards found, but it was years J after. Thus they walkd, each busy with unexpressed thoughts, as the sun shot long lances of gold | through the whispering leaves above or shim- : mered over the drifts of dead leaves here and ; there below. “You are not going to fish, eh?” inquired j Fred. “No, I believe not. I fin 1 Tennyson more to | my mind, and s lall abandon myself to the lotus j eaters until Lena gets through with that favorite amusement others of impaling unresisting and unoffending creatures upon the points of cruci fixion.” “Talk of Italy,’’continued he, some time after, as he lay at full, lazy length on a grassy bank, obscure from the rain of golden sunshine around, “ there is not in the wide world a more beauti ful clime than our own Southland. Can any thing exceed the beauty of that ethereal blue, melting away until vision—ugh! confound the thing!” For Lena had landed a fish full in his face, j and the line becoming entangled in the branches above, it was evident one or the other must va cate the premises. He did so expeditiously. Lena burst out in a merry laugh, assuring him ! that it was not intentional. Whatever Miss Ashurst undertook, she did ; with all her heart. She fished that day with an earnestness and gay enjoyment that would have i delighted Isaac Walton. Then she held up a I string of piscatory treasures in triumph and pointed to the declining sun. “Time to return,” she said. As they sauntered leisurely homeward, she I turned to E lgar. “I may as well say to you now what I have | long wished to say,” she began. “If you are going to lecture me on my short- | comings in general and my indolence in partic- ular, just let me light this cigar, by way of con solation, you know.” “I am not thinking of lecturing yon; hut, j Edgar, I wish to know if you intend to spend ! the remainder of your life as you have this past six months.” “ Well, no,” he returned, contemplating the upward-curling smoke. “I have been dancing attendance on you this year, and after Christ mas, or thereabouts, to be frank, I expect you to return the compliment.” The willful misinterpretation of her ^speech caused Lena’s cheeks to flame. f “You may affect to misunderstand the drift of my remarks, if the humor suits you,” she said angrily, “but I would recommend the beatitude of human origin, blessed are those who expect nothing, etc. I wish to know plainly if, with your talents, wealth and education, you are go ing to give yourself up to self-indulgence—to eat, drink and be merry.” “ Why should I not?” “For the reason that you have hundreds of souls under your command that should be equally under your care. My father thinks our negroes are left too much to the care of overseers, who neglect and sometimes maltreat them. He says, and you know he practices his theory, that since overseers are a necessity on such large plantations as ours, that they should be person ally superintended by the master; he thinks such a course would promote a more kindly feel ing between slaves and their masters.” “Is that your drift? I thought ambition was your text—that you wished me to mount the stump and harangue the gaping multitude on the impending crisis, or by dint of money and social influence, buy a seat in the Senate or ac cept the Presidency.” “Why should you not?” “ Cai bono ? Shall I, with enough and to spare, press into the thronged arena of public life and thrust from some mouth its needful bread ? You are a poor moralist, my little Quixote.” “ That is as you please, of course. I was speaking with reference to home duties. I think that as master of two hundred slaves, who are to remain all night. He is going home.' “I have asked him, and he refused, my dear. His horse has been standing under saddle an hour or so.” Lena said no more, hut went to her room and alleged headache for her non-appearance at tea. CHAPTER III. i Spring-time had coma, with the song of re joicing birds, the blue glimmar of violets on the hill-side, the tender blossoming of trees—had come, was on the wane, and May roses filled the j air with with rich perfume. We all know what had happened a month pre vious, April, 1865, at Petersburg—how all our | hopes went down in eternal night as our loved Confederacy passed into a glorious memory. Edgar Stanton had not been idle in the strug- j gle.. He knew whereof he spoke when he said | he required circumstance to develop his latent energy; and he had had ample time and oppor- j tunity to prove the truth of his words sincS he had j stood with Lena Ashurst five years ago, on the j vine-wreathed gallery in the August gloaming, j On many a hardly-contested field his bravery ' had been the theme of every witness. From more than one he had brought a badge of honor, a sabre cut or bullet wound. Lena had seen him only at rare intervals dur ing all these years, on which occasions his man ner to her had been only that of a gentleman to ward any lady. It seemed that the waters of Lethe had rolled over that portion of his life, j and that a vail of darkness had settled between them forever. He had come back to the old homestead, she had heard, to gather up as best he might the ! scattered remnants of a once princely fortune. The old father had died early in the struggle, and Lena thought with a yearning pity of that coming home to the desolated hearth-stone. These thoughts ran through her mind as she sat on the terrace with the rain of golden sunshine about her and the light breeze kissing her brow. She was trying to read Tennyson, hut the book was too suggestive of happy days long gone, and it dropped idly from her unconscious hand as thought went sorrowing back. A horseman came up the avenue, dismounted at the gate and moved toward her before she came out of her reverie. She sprang up, turned red, caught her breath, and sat down again as she recognized Edgar Stanton—bronzed and bearded, but E lgar Stanton still, with his own old careless grace of manner, his own winning smile. “You look very much the Lena of old,” he said, taking her hand. “Haveyou not made the beneficial discovery prophesied ?” Years of sad experience and observation had convinced her of her mistake, and up to this day she is the proud mistress of La Grange, and has never had cause to complain of the “consti tutional inertia ” of her energetic and success ful Edgar. At Pompeii they recently found a curious record. It was scratched on the stucco of a kitchen wall, and has been thus translated: “Lighted his fire, cooked his meals and swept his house for him 28,000, times to this day, and he refuses to take me to the circus.” Beneath this, in a different hand, is written, “Women are never satisfied.” . The meanest man in New York lives on Jackson street. He cuts the account of the Beecher scandal out of the paper every morning and hides them in the Bible, to keep his wife and mother-in-law from reading them. He says, “ they never look into that book,” and he tells them “ the dog chaws the paper full of holes.” A religious weekly of high standing gives this advice: “Kiss, but never tell.” It is very excellent advice, too, but it often happens that a man who has taken a kiss feels so good after it, sue Knew my urniu » ~ , that, like the boy who finds a jack-knife, he be a fact tacitly admitted by both families that not simple beasts of burden, but have souls, that j must tell it or burst.