Newspaper Page Text
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VOL. V. .1. 4 4WE8EiLS.}SfSS ATLANTA GA, OCTOBER 4th, 1879. Terms in advance: No. 221.
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•Silent, solemn, glow, we come
With our brother to his home.
Reluctantly we leave him here.
While o’er him breathe a silent prayer
And shed a tear.
With him we've sat full many a year,
In Lodge, or round the social board
At home, abroad, in all pursuits of life.
The, same brave spirit shone serene—
And now lie's dead.
Beyond recall our parting is for aye.
Till the dread trump shall sound the reveille.
When all shall pass before the judgment seat
Of Him that sits beyond the clouds.
And rules the universe.
Then gently lay him down and round him wrap '
As with a mantle, prayers not loud, but deep, j
Then on him turn our backs and face the world:
Why should we weep? our brother is with God
In Heaven.
Memphis, Aug., 30, 'Til.
COUSIN HAL;
OR
The End of a Dream.
BY G. W. G.
Cousin Hal had eotne home at last, after ten
years wandering in foreign lands. It was a warm
reception that he received in the old house, which
had been his home in boyhood—the only home, in
fact, that he had ever known, for lie had been left
an orphan in his infancy. In two hours after his
arrival the great, breezy sitting room became a
perfect, litter of foreign curiosities. There was a
portfolio of Venitian photographs here; yonder a,
dainty breakfast service from Dresden: there a case I 5. ... .. *. ’ . - .
HAL ENT FRED, HAT IN HAND ACCOM PAN IV f» BY MRS. GLENN—llIS SISTER.
You were onlv a
and now—’
Uiii | § i, v in cttitinou aci * it c ii i mu i/i riMin i. iiivi t c* * ucv. . .
of Swiss carving in wood; French gloves and laces ; c / A d now Dm twenty'’ i*
thrown down beside a pile ot rare engravings from , Jride in her age which is another source
Rome; and in the midst of all Hal was standing , j. V Rosamond Fursvthe.
and taltang of Pans gaieties and Egy ptian wonders . T ^„ t , So vou are . And I am thirty-two.
IIow big and handsome he bad grown, to be sure! | lre „ . ^ , fille wait for n „ )r woman
Tall, fair and debonair, with the easy, unstudied , ^ for the inaltor of tllnt H ?.re: let me help
grace of a man who lias ‘been the rounds, his , .
vik i ' y ’
.Vr.Jrfinl. vita
eck jijaggie out :
grace oi a man wuo nas oeen one rounus, «u» | ou (ut , these on . j am ailxioU s T ,
glowing, animated face, with luxuriant whiskers I l . .
a, i^ouctneh '. c ; m: fl rr fmm 'M e to a.!;oC.e. to>
talked.
The girls—his cousins were all girls—could scarce
ly keep their eyes off him for a moment, notwith
standing the lovely things he had brought across
the ocean for them to lavi-Ii their admiration upon.
There were three of them—Sara, Emma and Mag
gie. Then there was Rosamond, otherwise known
as Mrs. Leonidas Forsyth, who never did anything
so unbecoming and girlish as to go into raptures
over anything, but stood like a statue of dignity in
the background, quietly inspecting such articles as
were es]>ecially shown to her, with a few conde
scending expressions of approval.
Leonidas had been the only male child in the
Forsyth family. His health had never been good,
and it was not long after his marriage to Rosamond
Caruthers that he died, leaving his widow to fill
his former place in the old homestead. Just now
how vou
the skin ov a woman, proceeded t
deck iV'Aggie out in her new coral.-, to the annve-
ment and delight of her mother and sisters.
‘You little witch, do you know how pretty you
have grown!' exclaimed Hal, suddenly realizing that
Maggie was a very charming young lady. 'I de
clare, it you were anything nearer than n second
cousin, I should take the liberty to kiss you. As it
is—’
‘Nonsense, don’t be so foolish, Hal,’ and she push
ed him away blushing like a rose.
Rosamond was watching them, under cover of her
slow-moving lids. Her every motion was measured
and stately, yet noihiug escaped her. But Bara
saw her covert glance, and it brought up an old
memory—the memory of Cousin Hal’s boyish ro
mance, which peop'e had said was the cause of his
; going to Europe. It was a well known fact that
Hal had loved Rosamond Caruthers in his youthful
ture. and I hate to see him throw himself away on
her. If he had been here all these years, and seen
What we have seen, he would know 1 letter.’
‘But perhaps they really love each other ' be
gan Maggie, hesitatingly.
‘Love!’ repeated Sara, soorniuIly. vl She doesn’t
know what the term means. : • o ad Leonidas
for his money, and she will ma-’T Lyt hr hi-!'
‘At all events.' spoke up F "’■s his own
A SAD, SAD'STORY.
Emma St. Clair’s Mission of Mercy A Beautiful
jlOutcast Whom the Soldiers Blessed Sad, Sad
* Story.
A Richmond iVn.i correspondent of the St. Louis
Globe-Democrat writes:
The burning of the famous Confederate prison,
‘Castle Thunder,' in Richmond, yesterday morn
ing. lias been the theme of talk cm the streets all
day. It stood wiihin a stone’s throw of Libby
prison, and was very much like it in appearance.
The Globe-Democrat correspondent interviewed a
former warden of the prison to-day, Major Batlen.
Tile major sa cl:
The burning of ‘Castle Thunder' leminds me of a
sad and romantic episode interwoven with the
history of that famous prison. It is the story of
the ‘Angel of Castle Thunder.’ The friends and
sweethearts of ;he prisoners were constantly writ
ing to them. I have witnessed many heartrending
sc. nes in the prison. In this prison all persons
suspected of sympathy with the Union were con
fined, as well as Confederate prisoners. The meet
ing and separation between a mother and her child,
between a sweetheart and her lover, as they would
cling to each other, and with tears and sobs sepa-
■ rare, perhaps never to meet again, was truly
distressing. It was upon one of these occasions
that I noticed a woman whose history I afterward
learned, and as it is a remarkable one 1 will give it
to you. She was beautiful, tall, slender, lady-like,
and sjriritnelle looking. She attracted one’s atten
tion at first sight. She called herself Emma St.
• jail - . Her features were finely chiseled, after the
Grecian style. Her eyes were large, lustrous and
melting blue, her form well proportioned, lithe and
1 supple, and her pale delicacy of complexion and
her frail appearance produced the impression that
I she would soon be the victim of that fell destroyer,
. consumption. She called to see a young prisoner
who was her lover, to whom she sent sumptuous
j fare every day. Once, while she was on a visit to
i him, she had a severe hemorrhage, and fainted,
j She was too weak to be sent away, and she was
invested, is also in a state of hopeless embarass- property cared for at the prison. The attending
ment. Neither institution can recover from the physician had her taken To a room, wnere she
shock. lam liable to the last farthing, and as received proper nursing and medical care until she
poor as Job’s turkey! Will return home next j recovered. Bhe was courtesan, and her lover a
week 3,
Louisiana soldier, who came to Virginia at the
Yj did return, it was unexoectedly and outbreak of the war. Bhe was of C reole extraction,
'■yiy\. ‘ and came from New Orleans to Richmond, where
‘Did sunny afternoon he alighted from ! she migM.bemear him and see h:m every now and
l-v-y, s'ufion, an
ti
ves, it ts
, and after that
*la! and Rosa-
igether, riding,
the lawn until
ke fools
! useless for us to open our mouths.’
B > there the subject was droppe
j day it was not hr.mu" ed again,
mond were almost constantly
driving, w alking, and lingering' oi
; everybody eise had retired. U eek in an week out,
j it was always the same, and the greatest dullard
i might have seen what they were drifting to.
‘She even neglects her child,’ Sara whispered to
! Emma one day. when the poor little invalid was
: crying piteously for his mamma. T wonder how
i she can be so cruel S’
Emma sighed, but made no reply. It was too
i true that the calm, eokl woman had paid less at
| tention to her suffering child of late, than the du-
! ties of a mother required. Maggie herself had as-
I sinned those cast-off duties—had become a mother
to little Willie, nursing and soothing him, keeping
to him. and seldom leaving
was awake. Gentle, self-sacri
en Hal told her one day that
tion, and .ft >ur, to walk to the then. .S i-
'-riv F. -t. 5 .i-o v” *T.
had
■centy—five
F-.y rirro
hundred dollars in
. * l . * , | uy mis Lumc. ncu. uui uau ..cr-i. v ei j ,.71111^ xn 1 sue »> a- uue i.e-u nunc WOW1H11 ill the World !
sage had not left a single regret inner heart. | those days and Rosamond the loveliest vision that > But Hal was blind. He never e.saed himself anv
Strictly speaking, she was not a favorite in her . jj a< j eve r crossed his pathway. But be had also been j questions. He thought it an unpervertible law of
husband s family, tnougn ail liked her for Leondias very poor, and it was the general belief that, this nature that he should adore Rosamond just as in
sake, and persuaded themselves that hers was a des f ac £ a j one had turned the scales against him, and ] his youthful days. He had so long regarded him-
gree o. human perfection lilted tar above their low gj vell the, , nze to liis more fortunate cousin, Leoni | self as a broken hearted man, that no human argu-
coinprehension. one had one child, a puny, tour q as But he had never concurred in this belief. | ment could have convinced him that the o!d wound
year old boy, who had been on the verge of death j The soul of honor himself, he could not imagine was healed, and that this Woman was no longer es-
almost constantly since his birth, but who still anyone else so despicable—much less this divine I sential to his happiness. It did not occur to him ts
lived to be tortured by' an inherited disease, from ; crea ture, whom lie was inclined to put on an equal j wonder why he sometimes felt a keen sense of re-
which there was no possible hope of recovery. footing with the angel-. 1 • ...
Co " S !V. I 1 I “!l® y *nr e “f^ b i e ^ wundiermgs when j However, it was the loss of his suit that sent him
, and his
they sup-
— , „ - . , . , posed that,during ail these years of travel and study
By the way', Rosamond has not seen her present j j n t he Old U orld, his heart had continued in a
yet. ‘ _ chronic state of fracture on this one woman’s ac-
He took his key s from his pocket, and walked off j coun t. It mav also be confessed that, after waiting
fcowari. a small traveling satchel, while Rosamond a reasonable length of time after learning of ecus-
sat down on the end of the sofa, and brew her ln Leonidas’ death, he embarked for America for
fleecy mantle more closely about her statuesque no other purpose than to woo once more the idol
shoulders, as she responded: i of his heart, even in her widow’s weeds. There
‘Y ou had no reason to remember me so kindly, j was no reason why' he should not. He was rich j with Rosamond in her elegant chamber, helping to
Im sure. , . TI . , | now, and he felt sure that she had always cared i array her in her bridal splendor. She looked very'
Her tone held a meaning, but Hal was either too j f 0 r him a little. | beautiful ir the rich, immaculate drapery and
cousin 11a, - = "!V . !, ° I However, it was the loss oi his suit that s
they rested upon the calm, beautiful face of the i abroad at the early age of twenty-two,
young widow, and he suddenly broke off in the j friends were not far front the truth when tl
midst of his harangue to say'
lief, when, for a brief space, chance would throw
him out of her society into Maggie’s. Indeed, he
never would have confessed that it was a sense of
relief. So time w ent, on, and they became engaged
The marriage was to take place in September. The
summer lived out its transient glory, and the wed
ding ilay arrived. It was to be a grand affair, as
became the wealth and position of the parties con
ing his way through a bit of si.Yubbery that, skirt- devote lii*r own forces and her money to soothe
ed t.iie lawn, when the sound of voices reached him ' and alleviate the sufferings of our wounded
from ail arbor he was passing. He halted irreso- soldiers. She became a nurse in Bird Island Hos-
lutely*. ( hie of the voices he recognized as that of pita], and there for a long time she employed her-
Rosaniond: the other was unmistakeably maseu-j self in nursing the sick and wounded. On one
line. By shifting his position a trifle, he could see i occasion a young soldier from North Carolina,
them through the vines that covered the arbor, badly wounded, was placed under her care. She
The man’s face yvas turned squarely toward him, nursed him carefully, but in spite of all that could
and he saw at a glance that it was the face of the j lie done for him, it became evident that he must
village doctor—the same who had attended Wit lie J die. He was the only son of wealthy parents who
in his last sickness. This man, by the way. was a ! doted on him. When he was told that he could not
rich old bachelor, not less than fifty years of age. iive long, he called the beautiful nurse to his bed-
T was quite certain you would see your mistake j side and told her he had one request to make, and
in time,’ he was saying, in excited tones. ‘I am i 1 hat was that she would not let him be placed in
- I glad you saw it before it was too late. IFlnm you an unmarked grave. She promised and he died
sent for me to meet you here this afternoon, I felt j happy. She kept her promise. He was buried
instinctively tliat you had decided to reconsider with pomp. A long line of carriages followed him
your rejection of my suit—’ to his grave. She bore all the expenses, ln a few
‘1 have reconsidered it,’ interrupted Rosamond, days thereafter the father and mother appeared-
in almost despairing accents. ‘I know now that ! having heard that their only son had been wound,
you are the only man lever loved, and Ido not
hesitate to tell you so. But what am I to do i I
am bound to—to that person.’
‘Tell him frankly that you desire to lie released,’
advised the doctor. ‘Tell him you were mistaken
in supposing that you ever loved him. He'll be
man enough to give you up, mark my worfls. Be
sides, since he is now no better than a pauper, ac
cording to your own statement, he surely cannot
expect you to descend front your high sphere, and
share his p werty. It would be a gross misalliance.
‘1 will ask him to release me,’ said the woman,
with sudden firmness.
‘There is no need !’ said a quiet, contemptuous
voice, that caused them both to look up with
1 here at the end of the arbor stood
guilty start.
Hal, his tall, commanding figure drawn up to its
full height, and a scornful smile on his features.
‘There is no need,’ he repeated. ‘I am only too
;lad, madam, to give you your liberty without the
cerned. It was to take place at the village church, asking. I aiu only too glad to obtain it for myself,
at night. The mistake was mutual, I assure you. You are
The night came. The old house was illuminated free to marry whom you please.’
front parlor to garret. Sara and Emma were
both .
or cnose not to notice He came The next morning after his arrival as the family j spotless orange-blossoms.
utn a slignt flush on his tanned assembled in the breakfast-room, Hal said to his I Hal entered, hat in hand, accompanied by Mrs.
inds were two jeweler’s cases, one !aunt . I Glenn—his sister.
busy to detect it. or chose not to notice it. He came i
down the room with
cheeks. In his hands
of which he opened and gat e to Rosamond, sitting Every thing about the place seems so familiar and
at her side as she examined ft- ! pleasant, that I wonder 1 was able to stay away
Her face did not change ill the least. Only a ^ foug. You women must have a quiet time all to
slight kindling of the eye told her appreciation of yourselves. A regular nunnery.’
the valuable gift. . . , ‘It has been stupid enough, goodness knows!’
It is certainly exquisite. Thank you!’ she said <5^ Maggie in her frank, outspoken way. ‘And
in the quiet, lion-couimittal way she had. now that we have got a mail among us, we mean
No burst of enthusiastic admiration there. That j to keep him.’
was left for children and vulgar people to indulge \ Rosamond looked shocked, but the rest laughed!
in. But the rest of the family gathered round with and Hal replied. j
various expressions of delight, at the sight that met ‘It is extremely gratifying to a follows vanity to
their gaze. In the open ease, lying on its purple find himself in such a demand by the fair sex. I
velvet cushion, was a small and elegant brooch, a i think I shall not find it hard to stay. But really,
Glenn—Ins sister.
‘Are you almost ready. Rosamond ?; he asked:
‘The carriages are waiting.’
At that juncture Maggie came rushing into the
room, in a state of wild excitement.
‘Oh, Rosamond !’ she cried; and then stood still, i
panting and pale.
‘ IFhat is the matter, child ?’ demanded Rosas •
rnond.
‘Willie !’ she gasped. ‘Go down, quick. He—he
is dying !’ j
Before either of the astomsueu couple could
speak, he had bowed, and vanished through the
shrubbery.
Maggie was out on the piazza, training a honey
suckle vine, when Hal came up to the steps. He
walked straight up to her with an abruptness that
stone cameo set in brilliants, and bearing on its face
the features, in profile, of the late Leonidas For
sythe.
‘I had it cut after the photograph I always car
ried of Cousin Leonidas,’ said Hal. ‘I thought it
would lie appropriate, you know'. What do you
think of it, girls.
And the girls gave vent to their approbation ill
such extravagant exclamations that Rosamond’s
refined sensibilities were cruelly shocked. But
Maggie, the youngest and prettiest of the three sis
ters, gazed at the costly bauble with an expression
akin to awe.
‘It will be very becoming to Rosamon’ds style of
beauty,’ she said.
Haf turned toward her with a smile.
if 1 had expected to see such a charming young la
dy iu the place of the little girl I left ten years ago
I should have taken it upon myself to bring a guest
and become a matchmaker.’
‘You would nave gotten yourself into trouble if
you bad done so on my account,’ declared Maggie,
blushing furiously in spite of herself. ‘One man
about the house is quite enough.’
‘Besides.’ said Emma, our Maggie isn’t for sale.
We couldn’t spare her at any price.’
Breakfast over, Rosamond drew a light shawl
about her shoulders and strolled out into t he garden,
apparently attracted thither by the sight of some
fresbblown flowers. Hal watched her furtively,
and a few minutes later sauntered after her.
j startled her, and took both of her hands in his.
‘Maggie,’ said he, ‘1 love you ! I want you to b e
my wife !’
She looked at him for a moment as if she thought
him insane. Then the hot blushes came streaming
into her face-
‘Why, Cousin Hal !’ she stammered. ‘ What are
3'ou saying ?’
‘I have been a fool—an idiot,’ he went on, almost
choking in his earnestness, ‘f have been making a
ed. The father went to the hospital, where he
learned that his son had died, and there he w as re
ferred to Miss St. Clair, who gave him all the par
ticulars of his son’s death and funeral. He and his
wife were deeply grieved at the loss of their son,
but their grief wiis greatly softened by the contem
plation of the generous, unselfish conduct of his
kind nurse, and they expressed to her their appre
ciation of her kinduess in no measured terms. They
did more. After making inquiries about her, and
learning her past history and true status, when
they returned to Richmond again, after carrying
the remains of their son to be buried, they sought
her out, and said to her: ‘We have come hereto
make a proposition to you. which we sincerely
wish vou to accept. We want you to go home
with its and be our daughter. We are wealthy,
we have no children, and nobody will have any
right to complain of our conduct. We make this
proposal after careful thought and consideration.
We are acquainted with your past history, and
know what is the opinion of the world in respect to
one in your situation, and we believe that any
woman who has acted so nobly and generously as
you have done can l e reclaimed, and forgetting
your past life, we earnestly desire to take you to
our hearts and our home, and adopt you as our
daughter. Will you come ?’ Her bosom heaved,
and tears flowed from her eyes, and then, amid
her sobs, she declined the offer, saying: ‘To accept
it would, while beneficial to me. lie doing an in
jury to you. I do not deserve such generosity, and
my services to your poor boy were not given with
the expectation of reward, but to gratify my own
feelings. I know that you are sincere ill your be
lief that you would ignore anil forget my past life.
! and that you would treat me as if I were, in fact,
j your daughter, but the world, and your friends
i and acquaintances, would not let you do it. A ban
is upon me; society calls me an outcast, no matter
temptations and solicitations I may
She never for an instant lost her composure, as she ror my blindness had led me into. I could never I luall , ,l 1 n ?-i T A + *1 r o- ,rr w
rrlulu/l inif Ii 01* /tliainKui* hm.I .1 <•... * I .— : 1 X. “ . 1 • » r « » 1 \\ Olllil llkC tO JJO With \ Oil, A C&DIlOu WfOllff J Oll DJ
giided out of her chamber and down the stairs: but
the rest were more excited as they followed.
i When next observed, the two were walking slow-
‘Yes, but 1 know what will suit you better, little ’ ly up and down one of the paths, engaged in earn-
gir].’ ’ est conversation. The second courtship was be-
He opened the second case and placed it in Mag- gun.
gie's hand. A little cry of joy broke from her lips. : Those within the house were quick enough to ob-
The rest underseood it when they saw the jewels—a i serve it, and there was an expression of grave
full set of pink corals, of the most exquisite designs . doubt on the face of each. Perhaps none of them
embracing* necklace, earrings, brooch and brace 1 regarded the course of the returned traveler with
lets. 1 -approval, but not a word would have been uttered
‘Why, you couldn't have given Maggie a more ac- j on the subject hud not Sara begun it. Bara was
ceptable presem,’ said mamma Forsyth, with a ! in the habit of speaking her mind 011 all occasions,
beaming countenance. ‘The child has always had j and she did it now.
a passion for coral.’ i ‘Bo that is what brought him home!’ shesnnpped.
‘Don’t 1 know it! Do you suppose I have forgot- ‘Well, 1 had much rather he had staid away.’
ten what she said the day I let- home? ‘Cousin Hal : ‘Sara.’ cautioned her mother, in a tone of mild re-
if you don’t bring me a set of corals, when yon ! proof. 1*1 , . . partner. They ceased to operate vesterday
beck, I hope the ship will sink with you!’ Do | ‘I don’t care, I believe her to be a designing crea- ». „,i- cn
It was true: Willie was dying. His sufferings am free; and I have hastened to you, Maggie,
were almost over. The doctor said he could not tell you what I have not dared to mention before
live till morning. Of course, the weddi ; could —that I love you with my whole heart and soul,
not go on, under these circumstances. The only Can you care for me, Maggie ? Can you promise
course was to jiostpone it indefinitely. The attend- ! to lie my wife ?’
ants and guests were promptly dismissed, the doors ; He ended his passionate pleading, still holding
closed, the superfluous hghts extinguished, and the her hands tightly in his. She could not speak. She
scene was changed . Toward morning the child , was trembling violently, and a little sob kept ris-
died; then the ric.i trousseau was exchanged for the . ing in her throat whenever she tried to utter a
salile garments of mourning. word. She hung her head and was silent.
Halwasierx quiet through all. But the slowest- I But Hal knew. He saw his answer in her eyes,
sighted one in the family' observed^ that bis face 1 and without another word he took her in his arms,
wore an entirely new expression. He looked like ] and kissed her pretty, tear-wet face again and
a man just awakened from a dream, and very | again. And she did not resist. Indeed, she put
much relieved to find it only a dream. He had lit- her arms around his neck, and pressed her soft
tie to say to any one. but was perfectlv calm and . cheek to his, while she told him how she had loved
collected. j hi lu from the first.
One week after Willies deaih. Hal went to the 1 c , 1 - j nr , „ , . ,
city to be absent a fortnight. He told no one the > feo Hal marned Ma ^ le ’ ;ind - Rosanlond marrled
marry that woman if I were engaged to her a 1 ;. " , • , y '
thousand times over ! But she has released me; I a ? ce Ptmg J our offer. My do ^ . ’ . *5 ’
nature of the business that called him away; but
in a few days there came a letter from him—a brief
note, rather, the substance of which was this:
‘I write to inform you that I am about to become
a poor man. The late financial cra-h has brought
disaster to the iron mills in which 1 am a silent
The
company'in which the rest of my fortune is
the doctor and it is to be hoped that both were hap
pier for the change. Certainly' Hal was, and Mag
gie too, for that matter, as their numerous friends
are ready to testify.
And it turned out that Hal had not lost his for
tune after all. He was able to save out of it enough
for him and his little wife to live upon in comfort
and happiness.
alas, to say, and knowing that I shall never lie for
given by man, I must look alone to Him who is
mercy’s self, to pardon me hereafter. ’
The old Confederate major, as he reached this
part of his reminiscence, drew his big bandana and
wiped his eyes, saying to the correspondent, ‘You
see, I witnessed that scene, and l tell y'ou it was
the saddest I ever knew. The old gentleman and
his wife could not alter the determination of the
beautiful girl. Finally they said: ‘Is there noth ,
ing we can do for you to show our appreciation of
your kindness for our son ?’ Bhe said: ‘Yes; I ask
that you will liestow some of your means in pur
chasing delicacies for the wounded soldiers and
prisoners of both armies.’ They did so, and hun-
dieds of Confederate and Union soldiers, tossing
upon sick beds, blessed the outcast woman who
gave t!i -in rare wines and cordials and delicacies
out of the liberal means at her disposal, and so she
became known as the ‘Angel of Castle Thunder,’
and at early morn an 1 amid tiie night shadows she
was to lie seen flitting between Castle Thunder and
Libby prison. At the evacuation of Richmond she
disappeared, and has never been heard of since.’
‘There* s music in the heir,* moaned the yor.rp
father, as he reached for the paregoric to trie