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About The Baptist banner. (Atlanta, Ga.) 186?-1??? | View Entire Issue (Feb. 21, 1863)
LOST ALICE. [concluded from first page. I sat in the study alone, one morning, in the February following, looking over some deeds that had been long neglected, when I heard Alice singing in the balcony outside the window. It was the first time I had heard her sing since Fred’s death, and I laid down my pen to listen. But hearing her coming through the hall, I took it up again, and affected to be very busy. It was a warm, bright, beautiful day, and she seemed to bring a burst of sunlight and happiness with her as she opened the door. Iler own face, too, was radiant, and she looked like the Alice of the old farm house, as she came on tiptoe and bent over my chair. “ Well, what is it ? ” 1 asked, looking up. She laid a pretty little boquet of violets,' tied with blue ribbons, before me. “ I have been to the conservatory, and have brought you the first flowers of the season, Francis. And something else, which, perhaps, you may not like so well.” She bent over me as she spoke, and lean ing her hand lightly on my shoulder, kissed me twice. She had been chary of her ca resses for some time; and when she did this of her own accord, 1 wheeled round in my chair, and looked up at her. “You seem very happy to-day, Alice.” “It is somebody’s birthday,” she said, stationing herself upon my knee, and look ing into my eyes. “ And I wish somebody very many happy returns : ” —her voice faltered a little—“and if there has been any wrong feeling, Francis, fly the last six months, we Will bury it to-day, now and forever.” She clung to me in silence, and hid her face upon my breast. I was moved in spite of myself, and kissed the brown hair that was scattered over my shoulder, and said J was quite willing to forget everything (as if I had anything to forget) ! At which she looked up with a.bright smile, and I dare say thought me very magnanjpious. “And we will make a new beginning from this day, Francis.” “If you will, my child.” She caressed me again, after a queer lit tle fashion of her own, which always made me smile, and which consisted of a series of kisses bestowed systematically on differ ent parts of my face—four, I believe, being allotted to my forehead, two to each cheek, two to the chin, four to my lips, and four to my eyes. She went through this cere mony with a pains taking care, and then looked me in the face. All her love and tenderness seemed to come up before me in that moment, and efface the past and its unhappiness. I held her closely tb my heart, and her arms were around my neck. Wil] any one believe it? My wife had scarcely left me five moments before the fancy came to me that I had shown too plainly the power she had over me. For months 1 had been schooling myself into coldness and indifference, and at her very first warm kiss or smile, 1 was completely routed. She had vexed, and thwarted, and annoyed me much during th*e months: it would not do to pardon her so fully and entirely before she had even asked my for giveness. I took a sudden resolution, and, when she came back into the room, was buried in my papers once more. Poor child! she had had one half-hour’s sunshine at last. “One moment,” she said, taking the pen out of my hanp, and holding something up over my head. “I have a birthday gift for you. Do you want it?” “If you give it to me, certainly.” “ Then ask me for it.” 1 said nothing, but took up my pen again. Iler countenance fell a little. “ Would you like it?” she said, timidly. “There was a saint in old times,” I said, quietly, going on with ibv papers, “a name sake of mine, by the way—Saint Francis of Sales—who was accustomed to say, that one should never ask or refuse anything.” “ Well ! But I'm not talking to Saint Francis; lam talking to you. Will you have my little gift? Say yes—-just to please me—just to make my happy day still hap pier.” “ Don’t be a child, Alice.” “ It is childish, I know ; but indulge me this once. It is such a little thing, and it will make me very happy.” “ 1 shall not refuse whatever you choose to give me. Only don’t delay me long, for 1 want to go on with these papers.” The next moment she threw the toy (a pretty little bronze inkstand, made like a Cupid, with his quiver full of pens) at my feet, and turned away, grieved and angry. 1 stooped to pick up the figure—it was bro ken in two. “Oh, you can condescend to lift it from the ground ! ” she said, sarcastically. " I pon my word, Alice, you are the most unreasonable of beings. However the lit tle god of love can be easily mended.’' “ 1 es.” She placed the fragments one upon the other, and looked at me. “It can be mended, but the accident must leave its trace like all others. Oh. b raneisj! " she added, throwing herself dow n I by my chair, and lifting my hand to het lips. “\\hy do you try me so? Do you really love me?’’ “ Alice," 1 said, impatiently, “do get up Y ou tire me.” She rose and turned very pale “ I will go then. But first answer my question. Do you love me. Francis? ’’ I felt anger and obstinacy in mv heart— nothing else. Was she threatening me ■’ 4 ‘ Did you love me when you married me, Francis?" “ I did. But M 4 ‘ But you do not love me now ’ ” “Since you will have it," I said. “ Go on .*" “I do not love you—not as you mean." There was a dead silence in the room as the lying words left my lips, and she grew so white, and gave me such of an- 1 «S K ®AS’ S« 8 B A St SS JR. guish, that I repented of my cruelty and forgot my anger. “ I did not mean that, Alice,” I cried, — “You look ill and pale. Believe me, I was only jesting.” “I can bear it, Francis. There is noth ing on this earth that can not be borne —in one way or other.” She turned and left the room, quietly and sadly. The sunshine faded just then, and only a white, pale light came through the window. Iso connected it with her sor row, that to this day I can never see the golden radiance come and go across my path without the same sharp, knife-like pang that I felt then, as the door closed be hind her. CHAPTER IV. Alice became weaker and grew really ill. A tour on the continent was strongly recommended by the doctors as the likeli est means of restoration. It was impossi ble for me to go ; but some friends of ours, one Mr. and Mrs. Warrener, with a young daughter, were going to Italy for six months, and it was arranged that Alice should ac, company them. They remained abroad nine months in stead of six. People wondered and joked about my wife’s deserting me; but 1 only laughed, and said I should soon go after her if,she remained away much longer; and they thought we were still a model couple. But had they seen me sitting in my office, at night, over Alice’s letters from abroad, they would have known what a gulf had opened between us two. I read those let ters over and over again, with aching throbs going through and through my heart, at every word. They were full of incident and interest, and people called them beau tiful, who had not seen the mixture of wo manly passion and childlike playfulness in her character that I had seen, and which I was to see no more. At last she returned. I came home tired enough one evening, to find a letter lying on my table, informing me that she would cross to Dover on the morrow. I went down to Dover to meet her. Our estrange ment had worn deep into my heart. She had loved me once; she should love me again ! I was worn, haggard. 1 took a bath and made a careful toilet after my hurried jour ney. As I was taking my last look in the glass, the hotel-waiter came to tell me they had arrived. I followed him, more nervous than I had ever been before in my life. Warrener grasped my hands as I opened the door, and Mrs. Warrener—bless her kind heart! —burst out crying. “Oh, my dear Frank ! I am so glad to see you. And we have brought you your Alice home, so well.” Next moment she entered, a little King Charles’ spaniel frisking about her feet. I had her in my arms at once, but it was not until she kissed me that I knew’ how cold and pale she was. “ Alice, are you ill?” I asked, holding her away from me, and looking into her face. Her eyes met mine, but their old light was quite gone. “ Not in the least ill, Frank,” she said quietly. “But you must remember I have not seen you for nine months, and you startled me a little.” My household fairy had fled, and I could only mourn that 1 should never look upon her sweet, young face again. It was anoth er Alice, this. I had slain my own Alice, and nothing could reanimate her. I was like one in a dream all through the day; and, w hen we cam i home, 1 could not wake. I had made many changes in the house, and all for her. 1 took her through the rooms on the day after our return, and ; showed her the improvements. She was pleased with the furniture; she admired the pictures and the conservatory, and seemed delighted with the little gem of a boudmr which I had pleased myself by de signing expressly for her. She thanked me, too. No longer ago than a year she would have danced through the rooms, ut tering a thousand pretty lit’leexclamations of wonder and delight, and I should have j been smothered with kisses, and called “a dear old bear,” or some such fit name, at the end ; all of which would have been very I silly, but also very delightful. I think I bore it for a month; but one' morning, as I sat at my solitary breakfast —for Alice took that meal in her room now I —the bitter sense of w rong and unhappi-j ness and desertion came over me so strong ly that I went up to her room. “ Are you busy ? ” I asked, as she laid I down her pen and looked around. “ Not too busy to talk to you,” she said. “ Alice, how long are we to live this lite ? She changed color. i “ What life, Frank ? ” ‘•The one we are living now. It is not the happy, loving lite we used to live. You are not mine as entirely and lovingly as you once weie.” “ 1 know it.” And she sighed and look ed drearily at me. | “\V hy can not the old days come back again ■ It 1 made a terrible mistake, can ! you never forgive it? I thought it was foolish for us to love each other as we did • —at least, to show it as we did—but I have found now that love is earth's onlv true w isdom.” She smiled sadly. "Give me back that love, Alice, which I , would not have. Oh, give me back the lost sunshine." -< 1 rose from my seat and stood beside her. but she drew back and shook her head. I " Frank, don't ask me for that.” " I shall know how to value it now. Alice.” lhat may be ; but I have it not to give you, my poor Frank.” 1 clasped her to my heart. The passion in that heart might almost have brought back life to the dead; but she did not i move. She was like a statue in mv arms, j and only looked at me and sighed.* ; ‘ “ 100 late, too late, Frank ’ ” j “ Will you never forgive me?” “Forgive? Do you think I have one unkind thought or feeling towards you, Frank ? Ah, no ! But lam chilled through and through. My love is dead and buried. Stand away from its grave, and let us meet the world as best we may.” I leaned my head upon my hands, and my tears fell, and I was not ashamed of them. But they seemed to rouse her into a kind of frenzy. “ You ? ” she exclaimed suddenly. “You, who a year ago sow’ed the seed which has borne this fruit, can you weep over your > husbandry now? Don’t, Frank! Take what I can give you —take my earnest friendship—and God grant we may never part, here or in heaven.” “Ah ! in heaven—if we ever get there— you will love me again.” She quoted those sad words which poor St. Pierre uttered on his dying bed : “ Que ferait une ame isolee dans le ciel meme ? ” * 1 and laid her hand gently on mine. > “ Heaven know’s, dear Alice, that as I > loved you when we first met, I loved you on that unhappy day, and love you still!” “I am glad to hear it,” she said hurried- I ly. “ Heaven only knows what days and ' nights w’ere mine at first. For my life had " wrapped up in yours, Frank, and it was ter -1 rible to separate them. 1 thought at first • that I could not live. I suppose every one , thinks so when a heavy blow falls. But , strength was given, and, by-and-by, peace. I We seem like two grey shadows, Frank, in ■ a silent world, and we must only wait God’s 3 time ; and hope that, on the other side of t the grave at least, this great mistake may t be set right. Believe me, I am happy in - being with you, Frank—happy in thinking - that the same roof shelters us, and that we 1 shall not part till one of us two dies.” t I opened my arms, and, of her own ac cord, she came to my heart once more; her 1 arms were around my neck, and her head ! upon my shoulder, and her lips meeting I mine. Not as they used to do, yet tender " ly and kindly. And thus that chapter of our life is ended. ! We have never touched upon the subject ! since; but 1 have waited calmly for years, and the same quiet light shines always in the eyes of Alice—the same deep, sad tones thrills my heart when I hear her speaking or singing. An angel could scarcely be gentler or kinder th in she who was once so impetuous and full of fire. She was unrea sonable, and exacting, and ardent, and im perious in those days, I know, and my slow- > er nature was always on the strain to keep pace with hers; but, what a bright, joyous, happy creature she was ! ' It would have been different but for me. [O, you w’ho read this little tale, remem ber in time that a kind word and a loving look cost little, although they do such great work ; and that there is no wrong so deep ias wrong done to a loving heart.l I * ° 1 * What would an isolated soul do, even in heaven itself? I THE SOLDIERS’COLUMN. For The Baptist Banner. In memory of Captain J. F. IF., Company C, 21 st . Regiment Georgia Volunteers, who fell at the battle of Manassas, August 28, 1862. BY LULA DEAN. He has fallen ' bravely fallen, Nobly battling for the right, On the gory field. Manassas— Clothed his name with honors bright ; Added to the nation’s history One more page of brilliant worth— Left behind him deeds of glory; Blessed the land that gave him birth. lie has fallen! where the battle Raged the fiercest, there he stood, Cheering on his men, and dauntless Waiting for.the coming flood; On it swept—but ere our shouts Os victory sounded o’er the plain, Death had claimed him! at his post There he lay among the slain. He has fallen! bring the laurels Wreathed and waiting for his brow— Though in death the hero sleepeth, They are blooming for him now ; Hang them on Fame's gilded altars. Carve his name beneath them all— A world may gaze and know how glorious For our country ’tis to fall. ; Still thy anguish, widowed mother, Weep not for thy valiant son, | For we hope that noble spirit Victory over death hath won; Sisters, brothers, cease thy sorrow, Though his coming steps ye miss; Strive to meet him where no tear drops Dim* the brightness of our bliss. < Oxford. Ga., 1863. [Fbr The Baptist Banner.] VICE IN "THE CAMP. Allow one, fellow-soldiers—whose expe rience on the march, around the camp-fires, entitles to respectful consideration what he may say—tospeakof someof the vices which have become, alas ! too popular in our regi- : ments. i It is doubtless true that evil communi ’ cations corrupt good morals, and that the tendency of associating large numbers of men together, where they are free from the refining influences of home and friends, is evil and continually evil. But where there is enough of the man about a soldier, these ! baneful associations may be shunned as the • breath of the deadly L’pas tree, and such evil results will not follow. There is al great deal of wickedness in all the camps 11 have visited; abandoned men curse and; swear, roll the most shocking vulgarities as sweet morsels from their tongues, engage I in card-play ing, etc. But where is the ruFe. I fellow-soldiers, that requires us to imitate their coarse profanity, their shocking vul-> garisms, or low gaming I “ Wherefore by their fruits ye shall know them.” Compa-; ny not with such men; the poison of their haunts is more fatal than that of the most! venomous reptile. A soldier in the camps, who was a church-[ member at home, is heard cursing and swearing, indulging in low slang phrase and i jest—is seen intoxicated or playing cards; and it is said of him. “ Look at the corrupt ing tendency of the camp ! ” Is this a right-; I eous decision ? Believe it not. Seed sown in a dry ground, though it be ever so fer tile, will not sprout and send forth the ten der plant peeping above the ground ; but when the genial showers descend, moisten ing the earth, the tiny sprig will come forth and point heavenward. The fear of expul sion from the church, and consequent dis grace in the community —the prayers, en treaties and tears of a loved mother, sister or w ife—may for a time keep in check the evil passions of the human heart; but when these silken ties are severed for tbe soldier’s life, the man gives loose reins to his pas sions, his true character is developed, and he appears in all his sad deformity. It is not because the camp generates vice; it is because he is free from home restrictions, and his innate wickedness leads him to wan der along the paths of folly. Seeing his evil works, those who knew him at home will say he is a deceiver and hypocrite, and it will be a just decision. A man in camp, who was regarded an honest man at home, though not a member of the Christian church, is proven guilty of a petty theft. His comrades say he was as honest as Paul at home. O, the change in him ! Now, there is really no change in the man at all. He who is base enough to steal in the army will steal at home. Prob ably he has filched at home, and was not detected. In the camp, there are more in ducements to the commission of these petty crimes; though, if a man yields, it only proves that at home he was honest because it was the best policy, while he was really a dishonest man. The} were not detected at home for the reason that there was no oc casion for the developement of their inhe rent propensity. In camp they rob their fellow-soldiers with perfect impunity. And a man who can do this is sufficiently low in the scale of degradation to steal the last cent from the pocket of his comrade on the bat tle field or elsewhere. The camp is a’good ordeal to try the metal of which men are made. It will speedily separate the dross from the silver. This is one good result that springs from the war. Men are known, for we see them as they are. That is a highly erroneous opinion which supposes that all “ the royal vices of the age ” origi nate in our armies. Let us, fellow-soldiers, heed these things, for everything hereafter depends on the re putation we have in the army. If, when this war is ended, our names are cast out as evil by those we were associated with in camp, a long life at home, spent in the ob servance of all the rules of honor, will not succeed in wiping out the foul stain that at taches to us. Hearken to the injunction ofj the Apostle : “ Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good.” Thos. B. Espy, Chaplain 31st Alabama. Vicksburg, Miss., Jan. 24, 1863. Gen. W. B. Bate, of Tenn., is assigned to duty at Chattanooga. Gen. B. 11. Helm has been ordered to report to Lieut. Gen. Hardee, for the command of the celebrated Kentucky Brigade, lately commanded by Gen. Marcus J. Wright, of Memphis. The Knoxville Register states that the proceedings of the General Court Martial in the case of S. T. Harris, have been ap proved by Brig. Gen. Heth, and are pub lished. The sentence is death, and Frida}, the 13th inst., had been fixed as the day on which he was to be executed in that vicinity. ‘ The Baptist Banner ’ is published at $3 a year ; soldiers can have it at $2,50. The Baptist Banner. FOR 1863. The proprietors of The Baptist Banner would inform the reading public, especially i heads of families, that, as an excellent HOME PAPER, THE BANNER shall be surpassed by none. It will be published every Saturday morning ! in Atlanta, at the rate of three dollars a year— subscriptions taken for any length of time. The LADIES, the CHILDREN, and the SOLDIERS IN OUR ARMY, will receive , special attention; and each number, in addi tion to a carefully prepared synopsis of reli gious and secular NEWS, will contain a good ( STORY—together with entertaining Miscella nies, Sketches, etc. It will be, emphatically, a FAMILY paper. The editor’s motto is, ‘ Make Home Happy.' Those desirous of subscribing will please en close the amount of their subscription, with the name and post-office, and address JAMES N. ELLS & CO., '• Atlanta, Ga. t CARDS. Ainos*. Elgon & Co., WHOLESALE GROCERS, AND COMMISSION MER CHA NTS, For the sale of Produce, Merchandise, Real Estate, Negroes, & c., Corner of Whitehall and Mitchell Streets, ATLANTA, GA. B. B. A MOSS. D. LIGON. B. H. LEFKE Robert E. Crawley & Bro., COMMISSION MERCHANT S, (Franklin Building.) ATLANTA, GEORGIA. October 1, 1862. I - J. B. Tippin, Wholesale and Retail Dealer in Foreign and Domestic DRY GOODS, Block, on Whitehall Street, ATLANTA, GA. Brach A: Root, IMPORTERS and DEALERS IN dry goods, (Whitehall Street,) ATLANTA, GEORGIA. Oct 11 3m AUGUSTA HOTEL, William Wheelock, Proprietor, BROAD STREET, AUGUSTA, GA. "southern States hotel, AUGUSTA, GA. By Thomas A Little. UNCLE TOM BAKER, 1 We have bought the entire interest of the ormer proprietor in the Southern States Hotel, and intend to keep a first class house. W. M. Thomas. Isaac Little. GLOBE HOTEL> BROAD STREET, AUGUSTA, GA. Mu I larky & Gannon, Proprietors. AUSTIN MULLARKY. JOHN M. GANNON. Hamilton, Markley & Joyner, DEALERS IM' DRUGS, MEDICINES, DYE-STUFFS, PAINTS, OILS, ETC., Concert Hall building, opposite Georgia R.-R. Bank, ATLANTA, GA. 025_ A. C. Vail, —SIGN OP MILLEDGEVILLE CLOTHING STORE— Empire House, Whitehall street, ATLANTA, Ga., Has a large assortment of READY-MADE CLOTHING and a large variety of Fancy Articles generally. Oc 25 S. ». Niles, Fire and. Fife Insurance AGENT, [Corner of Whitehall and Alabama streets,] ATLANTA, GA. Oct 18 Hughes, Hagan &. Co., Manufacturers of and Dealers in all kinds of ENVELOPES, ATLANTA, GA., Ug?" Manufactory on Peach Tree Street. John Ficken, MANUFACTURER OF AND DEALER IN ALL KINDS OF SEGARS AND TOBACCO, Snuff, Pipes, Meerschaums, Segar-Cases, Etc. WHITEHALL ST., ATLANTA, GA. Oct. 18 3m D. Mayer. J. Jacobe. J. Kapp. D. Mayer, Jacobe & Co., AUCTION and COMMISSION MERCHANTS, For the sale of Merchandise, Real Estate, Stocks, Bonds and Negroes, Whitehall Street, ATLANTA, Ga. Oct. 18. 3m A. C. Wyly & Co., WHOLESALE GROCERS, AND COMMISSION MERCHANTS, Corner of Walton and Peach-tree sts., ATLANTA, GA. O 25 ~JL, T. Porter, WHOLESALE GROCER, AND COMMISSION MERCHANT Marietta St., ATLANTA, GEORGIA. 025 Thomas F. Lowe A Co., General Commission Merchants, (exclusively,) OF’ For the sale of PRODUCE, and all kinds of MERCHANDISE; Negroes, Real Es’ate, &e., &c., (In Daniels’ Block, Peach-tree st., and Winship’s corner, ditto,) ATLANTA, GEORGIA. Thomas F. Lowe. Jjsse Lowe, of Lawrenceville. John C. White. w. Powers. White & Powers, WHOLESALE AND RETAIL GROCERS, DEALERS in PRODUCE, and FAMILY SUPPLIES, Marietta Street, Atlanta, Ga. Oct. 18 8m Brown, Firming A Co., FOREIGN and domestic COMMISSION MERCHANTS, (Masonic Hall Building) Decatur St., ATLANTA, GA. Advances made on Sugar, Molasses, Wool and other Produce. Special attention given to the Texas anu Georgia trade. Oct. 11 3m James McPherson A. Co. HAVE opened next door North of BEACH & ROOT’S Store on Whitehall Street, a new and select Stock of BOOKS and STATIONERY, Together with an endless variety of fancy arti cles, such as, ENGRA VINGS, GOLD PENS AND PEN CILS, WINDOW SHADE SAND GILT CORNICES, PICTURE FRAMES', WALL PAPER, FIRE SCREENS, RICH CHINA AND PARIAN VASES, PARIAN FIG URES, <fcc., <fr. Foreign Books imported to order. Teachers and Merchants supplied at Charles ton prices, freight only added. Frames made to order. Remember the New Book Store of JAS. McPHERSON A Co. H. P. HILL & CO.’S CONFEDERATE STATES RAIE-ROAD GUIDE, Containing the Time-Tables, Fares, Connec- I tions and distances on all the Railroads of the Confederate States; also, the connecting lines of Railroads, Steamboats and Stages—and will be accompanied by a complete Guide to the principal Hotels; with a large variety of valua ble information, collected, compiled and ar ranged by J. C. BWAYZE. Published by H. P. Hill & Co., Griffin, Ga., and for sale by all Booksells in the confederacy. To Advertisers. Business men who desire a first class adver tising medium, for the whole Confederacy, will find such an one in the “ Confederate States Railroad Guide.” Advertisements will be received at f 39 per page, or fractional parts thereof at the same rales. Address all orders for advertisements, or the Book, to H. P. HILL A CO., Griffin, Ga. . [JT Liberal commission to the Trade. Shue’ s and Wood Choppers ’ U’g wf»h to purchase 2(0 bales of SHL’CKS or Fodder, V F In lot* of not le*i than thirty bales, delivered at any railroad dep»t between Atlanta sr d Knoxville; and we ui.h to hire ttirty WOOD-CHOPPERS end TEAMSTERS, either ’bite or black, all lor Saltville, Va, Address—- stating prices, etc, A K. Skigo. Atlanta, or 3* AGO. KENNEDY, PALMERSTON A CO.. February 14, IstS. SaltvlUe, Va.
