The daily phoenix. [volume] (Columbia, S.C.) 1865-1878, 1869-01-14
GHOSTS. OLD AND NEW.
CONCLUDED.

myself lying on couch in the room which
you now occupy. The curtains were drawn.
and surrounding objects at first dim and in.
distinct. Presently, 1 distinguished the
forms of the children, Virginia, Minnie,
| and Rose-Rose, then little fairy in her
| fifth year. She had grasped my hand. At
the farther end of the room were several of
the servants weeping. My first exclamation,
as Virginia afterwards told me, was, NV
darling children, poor Henry is dead! You
will never see your brother againr Between
the interval of my vision, for 1 know not
what else to call it. aud n return to con-
sclousness, Virginia and Minnie had gather
ed from the servants that near the aspen
tree, as I was about to turn in at the
gate, had suddenly stopped, cried out
the name OF my son, and then be-
came insensible. With the assistance of
others, immediately summoned, they had
borne me to the house in state of utter
prostratlon. To this day have not deemed
it prudent or advisable to communicate to
my children what I saw on that dreadful
morning; and had it not been that my first
| expression, on return to consciousness,
was OF Henry's death, not word should
have escaped me on the subject. Within
my own breast it would have been concealed
until confirmed or proved to be unreal. But
so far as they could connect anything with
it. they urged me to disabuse nv mind of
the impression, and then when the post
arrived we should hear that he was alive and
we'll. They pretended that had dreamt it,
and that, like. the shadow of dream, ali
would pass happily away. 1 allowed them
so to think, fully convinced, however, that
their poor brother was no longer ia this
world.
"a fortnight or more had passed, when,
TO the surprise OF every one, Uncle Isham
made his appearance. To me the news of
his arrival seemed to be death-blow.
Preceded by the children, went to the
r:sZZa &c SEC him. Virginia outrau the
your master, Harry?' 'Massa Henry gone
dead, missy he replied; and the poor
slave barst into tears. After few moments,
he continued, They sent me homo to Alta
Vista, and told me to take this letter to nv
mlssis. He then produced from n cloth
IN which he had carefully wrapped it, let
ter, together with small sealed packet.
The letter proved to be from one of Henry's
brother officers. 1 have it here now, and
will read it you. 1t Was dated at Fort
Madison, on the Rio Grande, 18th of May,
1884
DEAR MADAM: 1t has fallen to my lot
to communicate to you most sad news.
Your son Henry, our late companion and
friend, is no more. He fell, in a duel, on
the morning of the 18th instant, about 6
clock, having been shot through the neck
L was with him when he expired, and heard
the word mother pass from his lips. His
death was almost instantaneous. AS am
sure it will be satisfaction to you and Mai
Pollard to know the circumstances which
led to this melancholy event, here give
them. AT the mess-table, on the preceding
evening, everything had gone on, up to q
in ha Y,fp 1o..
hilarity, when Capt. s. most unhappiiy
turned the conversation to the subject of
slavery. Being n violent Abolitionist he
became unguarded in his remarks, and said
many things derogatory to all slave owners
whom he denounced in 4 body. The other
officers present did what they could to in
terpose and check his language, which only
became more offensive and insulting, as
also to allay the Indignation evidently rising
on the part of your son. We rose from the
table in confusion, and sought our quarters.
greatly grieved at what had taken place. and
not free from strong suspicious that Lieut..
Pollard would seek apology or redress.
The same night I received n message from
him, and by the hands Of the surgeon he
sent note to Capt. S., demanding n
retraction of the words he had uttered, and
In the presence of all before whom they
were spoken. This not being granted, O
meeting was fixed for the next morning at 6
o'clock. l accompanied yonr son to the
ground. The ball Of hisantagonist pierced
his neck, and he fell. We placed him ut
the foot of neighboring tree where his
servant Isham had already deposited his
cloak, sash, and cap. Tho doctor imme-
dlately opened his collar to search the
wound, but it was apparent he was beyond
all mortal aid, and in II moment or two he
breathed his last L cannot close without
adding that no one stood better in the
service than your son did. He was brave
young soldier, and high minded beyond his
years. His uniform modesty of demeanor,
and unaffected goodness, won the hearts of