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• • T 7 ^HOWESS m VOL. V. .1. 4 4WE8EiLS.}SfSS ATLANTA GA, OCTOBER 4th, 1879. Terms in advance: No. 221. rniEK.*i- iiy«\. •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