The morning star and Catholic messenger. [volume] (New Orleans [La.]) 1868-1881, 1872-03-24


How full of tender dignity and. genercas
/: tie sh 1s:. ssye
heart. Forgive the many times brcng9t you
dismal tidings, and believe that ! die haPEy
IN the thought that icy wiz fo hsv. yons ss
with Your love 10 worthy Of tho boon ana
upon your united lives ask Gods choicest
blessing. Let not my name be omitted IN Your
home. I would that my death. could have ran
somed ton Innocent lives, bnt give 1t willing
ly. jHYyf"lly, for one alone: .,,v. ..u him did
what be would have done; but II he is dead
as have reason to believe-lay mo at his
feet. and let me sleep within his ysnerased
" Willingly. joyfally." She could not. did
rible scene that had struck her blind and
senseless. His face bore the impress of all
been one of inefahle joy. Thank God, she had
seen that look and could treasure it in her
heart forever!
body to New Orleans; and rs soon as you are
able to travel, we will, with our sacred bur-
then; journey homeward."
How strange il this remark of his concern
ing DR.. Dalton" said Ellen, looking mp into
Davis face with bewildered gaze: What
reason could he have had for euch q thong htf
II do not know, indeed. Even the good
never know; but his fear was we'll founded,
his supposition was indeed correct"
What! Is my fathers friend and mine
dead Shall I see Doctor Daiton's face no
moreT
"No more, my darling. Late news from
New Orleans bring the sad tidiugs. He died
the evening before-before--this sacrifice was
"Then they have met and feel that they
are happy. One was Ireland's Poet, the other
was one Of Ireland's Kings. 1t is right that
X vas n no;nfuI i,iow IN Ellen however and
she mourned for both dear friends with aching
heart.
But at last, thanks to the dear little Sisters
care, she was SO far recovered as TO pegln her
preparations for returning home She had re.
ceived several letters from Mrs. Brown, full! OF
affection and mpathy for her. and OF adm, ira
wrote. ''was ready fer her arrival in their
little cottage, and she was longing to embrace
| her child once more"
Z" You will be wife when you return 20 me,
dear Ellen" wrote the lonely widow; but
do not leave me. Make this little house your
| home, aud let me still be your friend and
| mother"
| become the wife OF James Davis. The body OF
ONeil was to be raised and transported to the
boat in the morning: the good priest was to
nns h IN
pany with the little Sister, who was on mis-
sion to New Orleans. they were all to return
| to the dear old city.
| execute the bidding of q merciless tyraut upon
! the helpless men, were the same who were
sent to bear ONeii's body to the boat.
mound, Ellen leaning on Davis arm, the little
Sister lowering near like an angel OF pity, and
the good priest praying au6ibly for the depart
| ed soul, even the soldiers forgot their wonted
calmness, and many of them wept aloud.
When the coffin was raised from its !owly
resting place and laid uoon the grass, Ellen
hnslt beside it and hid her face sPSn ,ss
a bunch of clover leaves upon 1t, and the Irish
Catholic soldiers Of the party nlurmured aloud
"God rest his souli He was one of 1reland's
! true men"
just then Davis stepped forward, and, lift
| ing the weeping girl, said:
"Ellen here, with this coffin for our altar,
let our hands be united, for if ever the just in
Heaven are permitted to behold the scenes of
earth, his spirit will hover near and bless our
| union"
is your marriage day: let your bridal vows be
spoken here. Surely there can be no place in
which those words will seem moro solemn and
more sacred"
The little Sister placed Ellen's hand in that
| of Mr.. Davis; andin a few moments the words
were spoken that made them man and wife.
Beautiful sequel to the bloody deeds enacted
there! But those ten, rudely made graves
around them, were too eloquent of grief for
| aught but tears to celebrate the nuptial cere-
mony. How many homes had been made desc
late forever by the unreturning forms that
robbed of all earthly joy by the unawekening
eyes that slumbered titeFeHMhatf fond, faith
full wives had seen their marriage joys fade
suddenly into darkest widowhood! What trust
ing little children, calling in vain upon their
fathers name, would never receive an answer
to their cry! What aged mothers, waiting
long for those strong arms to bear them up,
had gone in lonely sorrow to the tomb!
Alas! These memories haunted every heart :
and he who stood above those graves blessed
with life and hope, with youth and love,
mourned most of all, because of the ten, the
noblest and best had given up lfes blessings,
life itself, to purchase them for him.
1t was asingular but happy coincidence that
the same boat conveying o'Neips body, accom-
panied by the newly married pair, should also
take on board the returning Dudley family.
Ellen recognized them as they came on
board. The feeble, delicate invalid leaning on
her son /; Kate, pale aud sad, watched ovcr by
the ever faithful Jim. Were these all?
What had robbed Kate of all life and glad
nessf What had robed Mrs. Dudley in that
widows dressf What had changed Willie's
once bouyant step to one so full Of care and
Well might she ashland we'll might she
weep when told the bitter story Oh grief for
which there is no remedy oh deeds for which
there is atoneinent!
THESE are thine, poor Southern Land, wild
sraI al nnnT dad @tnN& ~ 49,