The morning star and Catholic messenger. [volume] (New Orleans [La.]) 1868-1881, 1872-03-31

Sacred
who h died July 5. 1883.
aged 40 years.
This stone was erected BY his oount.ymen serving in
shshs e
and .S Tessao1 to the
And now for the first time did Ellen and her
husband bless those gallant hearts in coats of
blue, that had forgotten Southern foeman in
their love and veneration for an Irish Patriot.
"This-this is worthy of him." sobbed
Ellen, as she knelt between the Poets grave
and the Martyrs coffin, and felt that O'Neil
would rest we'll beneath that marble shadow
gratitude remembered worth, and friendship
mourned o devotion rare in it's heroism, beaut-
full in its unselhshness and sublime in its
motive!
near to the patient heart, was laid to rest the
good, the noble and the brave.
The last symbolic rites were performed, the
holy words of prayer were spoken, and priest
and people left the graveyard.
Only four weeping mourners stayed behind
Poor Aunt Polly, humble in her affection,
but earnest in her grief, sobbed aloud the
earth was piled and snoothed over him who
81 likes Mr.. Davis" she Whispered to her
mistress, whose thoughts, perhaps, were wan
dering from the grave before her to the un-
known ocean bed of her own dead boy" but
t'oth.r one had got a deeper hold on my old
heart, and it's dreadful hard to see him there =,
But Ellen's grief, now that all her dnties to
the dead were over, was terrible to witness.
With head dropping over the silent turf.
and eyes raining tears her sobs rose wild and
mournful, and her slender form swayed to
and fro beneath this storm of sorrow.
Mr.. Davis stood with folded arms beside
her-pitying and loving her. His own heart
was sad indeed, but no unmanly, jealous feel
ing mingled with the anguish of the moment.
He knew why she wept SO wildly, why her
man aid. Not only had o'Neii died for love of
her, but he had becn sacrificed, martyred I'M
justifably, most inhumanly..
The missing man, for whom The Ten had
Their lives had been poured out so wantonly,
SO vainly, SO upjustly! This was the bitter
black Remembrance that had
come home not alone to Enen's heart, but to
every Southern bosom.
Uncalled for, base, unparalleled in cruelty
this deed must live forever, stamping its author
with the name of Butcher, and adding one
more wrong to the long list of Southern
wrongs never to be forgotten, never to be for
givenl
"Come, my Ellen" said her husband, bend
her ans hsr head on
as we'll as on this grave. God knows, if sor-'
row, regret, or even blood could bring him
back to earth, 1 would gladly give all that is
She rose up, with loves light shining like a
rainbow in her eyes.
"My noble husband! do not wrong You
by these tears. Joy and grief are blended in
with pity for his fate and thankfuluess for the
gift he gave me in your love-"
His name,' replied her husband, "must be
a sacred memory in our lives, uniting us more
by it's holy influence, every low, unworthy inn
pulse, and lifting up our souls above the hu-
mau joys he purchased for MS to the happiness
which exceeds all this life can give. l. above
ALL" he continued solemnly, :" must never be
unmindful of the ransom paid, the sacrifice he
gave! My wife! my wife! You taught me-
how to die. Now you must teach me how to
live, SO that his sacrifice may not he entirely
in vainW
She plucked a violet FROM Dir. Dalton's
grave, to carry to his widow; another for or
husband, and. as she laid it in his hand, she
whispered fondly:
LET accept, dear one, the heart's-ease
gathered for us 10y the noble friend who
watered it with blood and, with Gods grace,
Aud this was indeed their mission not only
to the dear old widow whom they loved aud
cared for with filial devotion; not only to the
faithful servant, whom they made free indeed,
with her widowed mstress,-but to all who
stood in need of either a word of kind encour-
agement, or a generous hand to help them on
in the battle of life.
Only enc more scene, and this simple story
closes.
Clarence Stanton's marriage to Ida Lee, only
daughter oil Mrs. stanton by her first marriage.
1t was bright and happy festival, for the
mistress of the old familiar mansion spared no
expense to show her joy "at losing" as she.
said, "neither n son nor daughter, but bind
ing both more closely to her heart and home"
William Dudley and his bride, Mr.. Davis and
his sweet wife were among the honored guests
within the handsome parlors; while Aunt
Polly and our faithful jim were guests in the
hall.
Both brides Leonora and Ellen wore mourn
ing dresses-though orange buds were in their
hair-serving OILY, to heighten the loveliness
of their fair, young faces, and contrasting ell
with the brightness of their happy eyes
One paid homage to the memory of her
grandfather, the other to that of the noble
O'Neil.
MIR. Latrobe had had his revenge. He made
Leonora his sole heiress; and when tidiugs
came that Emma was destitute and poor,
her husband having proved himself only o
b audsome scoundrel and a graceful scamp, he
knew Leonora would divide her rich Inherit
ance with her heartless sster--but this very
was his revenge.
True, as he lay upon his bed, and heard
Leonora's noble determination, he crushed a
poor mosquito in his hands, dropping it from
his grasp ut last, all bruised, despoiled of it's
wings, and powerless for harm or enjoy meut.
Perhaps such would have been his course in
regard to his silly graudchild-but that Leo
nora shonld act otherwise was after all, an
appropriate revenge even to his vindictive
nature.