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  • Publication Name: Aiken Journal
  • Location: Aiken, South Carolina
  • Pages Available: 2,250
  • Years Available: 1874 - 2002
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Aiken Journal (Newspaper) - June 27, 1874, Aiken, South Carolina >AIKEN JOURNAL VOLUME 4—NUMBER 173.AIKEN, S. CL, JUNE 27,1874 ♦2 PER ANNUM, IN ADVANCE [Written for the Aiken Journal. BLOOD AAB FLOWERS. BT StPHrE. [Written upon reading an account of Fed-"eiyl soldiers bringing flowers to decorate Confederate soldiers graves.] Tfckc back your flowers—what hand would date Thus desecrate the graves Where sleep the dreamless sleep of-death The fallen Southern braves ? -'Shalt hands that rudely stifled back Some sisters desperate cry -Strew flowers above her brothers grave, And we stand idly by ? -Shalt he wh 08e brutal lips have cursed Our ie other’s whitening hair, ~>Stand o’er her boy’s last resting place, And scatter roses there .? Shalt they whose hands have smothered out Seine baby’s wailing breath, . Strew flowers where its father Ms, And sleeps the sleep of dearth J “Shall hands dyed red in Southern blood Lay garlands o’er their head? .No, God forbid, that we should bring Dishonor on our dead. Take back your flowers—what mockery What grim and bitter jest, To bring your flowers and break -open Our soldier’s peaceful rest Just God! can flowers pay the debt— Wipe out the bitter stain— Make us forget -our ruined homes, Our noble, jioble slain ? an heaps-of blossoms hide fptm sight Oar ruin and despair ? Shall hands that robbed us of their life, 11 S trewn flowers en    J <3reat God, are we so lost to shame That we should grovel low, And laud the flowery offering] They mockingly bestow? • No ! take your flowers and stand aside— Leave us, at least, our dead; And let no Northern soldiers’ step Sound o’er our darling’s head. Bel Air, 1874. [Written for the Aiken Journal. “ Unknown*” BY SOPHIE. I lifted the overhanging vine? and "blossoms, and read beneath upon a simile board the word, “Unknown?” “Unknown,” the tear dimmed mother oyes, and sister’s heavy hearfcgrown dim and heavy waiting and longing all these weary years for him whose laugh will never more awake the echoes of the home, grown strangely dull and still. “Unknown,” the treasures of his child" ish days and later years, the well worn baby shoe, the heavy ring of golden hair, the velvet cap and broken horse. “Unknown,” the rusting, unused gun, the pouch and horn upon the wall. the pointer growing old in petted ease, starting at the sound of feet and lying down again with mournful whine, expecting ever tho never forgotten boyish shout of him who lies beneath those tangled vines “unknown.” “Unknown,” if any relic of his man-hood’s life be there. Perchance, like many others, he had girded his sword about a slender girlish waist, and gone forth to offer his childish breast and rosy cheeks, “a rampart ’gainst our foes.” “Unknown,” the hand that robbed him of bis fair young life, that tore his fresh white flesh and dyed his golden curls with the hot blood of his yourn: life. “Unknown” the dews, the sleet, the rain that beat upon his boyish brow in lieu of mother’s tender lips and sister’s ntle ham? “Unknown,” theory with ilk mother.” The one, only one, thing in Readc’s Terrible Temptation, which awakes a responsive cord rn our hearts is the cry which breaks from Belle’s lips as she holds in her hand the letter which casts the first shadow on her young life. “Mamma, mamma.” calling in her supreme agony upon the mother, long dead. God grant that to human heart may be “unknown ” the anguish of dying oust, ani hearing no responsive cry. “Unknown,” the stranger hands that laid him in his silent resting place* “Unknown,” the love and hope and pride that lie with him beneath the sod.“ ’“Unknown" “thesile<fced ifcusic, and the faded laurels." But thighs be to God, not “ unknown" in that great day when they eball come—our noble slain—from mountain, hill and sea, and stand before the bar of God, Not “ unknown " will be the love of home and honor, the ghastly death wound and the lonely grave. 'So brand “unknown" shall mark him a stranger there. For known at that great day will be “the dead who died for us." Not “ unknown" the long bloody marches over Virginia snows, the lonely watches by the icy waters of the Potomac, andthe living death of the trenches. Not “unknown" that long line of worn and weary cavalry, who with fluttering banners crossed the Potomac asleep. The water washing up to their saddle &irts, the moon beaming down on them, and their heads upon their breasts “dreaming of home and mother." Not “unknown," the young officer who, regardless of his life, his brilliant future, stoodwithin the walls of Vick A arg and caught up and threw cwt—e’er they* could explode—shell after shell from the Yankee batteries, caving the lives of thousands of his brave followers, aud raising himself even to the gates of heaven. Not “ unknown,” the brave defenders of Wagner. Men who lived from morn till night and from night till morn loait-img for death. Lying, sitting, standing, dying, beneath the rain of shell from the Yankee fleet which poured upon their defenceless heals—the distance too great for retaliation—doing nothing but dy\%up,, “in those days,” said Lieut. T. A. Asker*, commander of Chatham Artillery, “we forgot how to smile ; men were shot down, thrown over the breastworks, others standing up to take their place and dying in turn.” Not “unknown.” and never forgotten, our vast army of martyrs, deathless dead and living heroes. Soldiers of the Confederate army, though white shafts are rising here and there over the land, recording victoiies won and heroes slain, you have reared yourselves imperishable monuments from the blue waters of the Potomac to the green waves of the Gulf, on battle fields, in trenches, in human hearts and woman’s bears. We need no “ stranger ” to “tell it in Lacedaemon.” No hand can mark “ unknown ” above your deed. They have rung from the ice bound palaces of Russia to the blue waves of the Adriatic. And tho’ we stand to-day like Niobe, “ all tears.” Not “ unknown ” before the throne of God, is all the weight of woe we bear— with patience e’en our enemies admire, for lo, “ our inheritance is turned to strangers, our houses to aliens.” “We are orphans aud fatherless, our mothers are as widows.” “Servants have ruled over us and there is none that will deliver us out of their hand.” which he turned his dying lieu ii upon the blood sodden ground, the last cry of his life, “mother, mother.” For, be ever wheie we may, iii the flush of life or ifle pangs of death, at the knowledge of calamity comes the cry of “mother, Ocean trout continue to take the lead. Three boxes for a dollar ac Sat tor th wait’s. _____ Dry hop ycastcakes are perfectly reliable, healthy and nutritious. A fresh. supply just received at S. C. Satterth-w;.it’s. Preserved limes, orange marmalade. and conserve of wTild orange, by the [Written for the Aiken Journal. CREMATION. ®Y SOPHIE. A group of gay ana laughing girls Before a blazing fire, With rosy cheeks and dancing curls One can bat admire.” “I think,” said merry Katie Byrd, With saucy blue eyed glances, “My ashes’ll make the blue bells grow, Where summer sunbeam dances. “And I,” said languid Irene Bell, With throat of driven snow, “I’ll rest within some shady deli To make the lilies -agram7* And Maud Treherne, with blazing eyes, And cheeks like scarlet posies, Threw back her queenly head, and said, “I’ll grow the blood red roses.” “Oh, dear,” sighed little Nellie Ray, “What ever shall I do ? Oh, yes, I’ll try the live tomg day To help the violets blue. • “ knd darling little Jimmie B, Shall grow (he scented clover, For then you know,” cried Katie i& glee, “He’llround my blue bells hover.” “And Sid,” said, Irene with a smile, “My Sid, the debonair, Shall grow the willows weeping fringe Above my lilies fait.” which built up the walls of the New Orleans cemeteries into vaults, and broken coffins and heaps of hones are pushed aside to make room for new occupants; and when the people of Savannah were ordered to remove their dead from the old cemetery, or expect their graves to be built over, Lo, we find no rest even in death. But thanks be to God who made the country, there are yet green moun tain slopes, low green valleys stretches of fresh earth by broad rivers, room enough in God’s acres fur all that “My lord,” cried Maud with flushing cheek, “Shall be the forest king. And oak limbs wave above my head And birds above ne sing.’ ’ “Awd mischief loving Willie T,” Said Nellie, wildly blushing, , “Shall shade my violets with She reeds, Beside some spring up gushing.” And one and all we’ll raise to Gad An offering for our joys, By far the purest one PII ween, Since we were girls and beys. Bel Air, 1874 [Written for the Aiken Journal. Cremation* Arc we drifting back to a state of heathenism? Surely in all of God’s green earth ther,e is room for the last home of* his creatures. Six feet by three beside some rippling stream, beneath the shadow of some monarch of the wood, is all we ask for our dead where “The winds harps may whisper o’er their breast Like the song -of some angel in their dream Shall we have the red breath creep up the tender limbs and lap its hot tongue over the white lids and writhe among the golden culls of some rnother’s CJ dead darling ? Shall they curl over the broad breast that was but yesterday the sole shelter of the bride, still “in the bloom of her beauty ?” Shall they shrivel and blacken the dear lips that she has kissed so wildly? Shall the dear mother’s hands that have drawn our heads so lovingly to her bosom and wiped away our childish tears, melt beneath the fury of the fire ? Shill her dear face, without which our womanhood’s life would have been a blank, bo lashed by flames when oar goutiest kisses were not too tender ? Shall the strong loving brother arms that have just unclasped from aiound us, be clasped in tile fiery folds from which there is no escape. Shall the curly head by which our own has rested so often in sleep, be hidden beneath this execrable thing? Shall sisters white cheek crumble, and the bright hair we have twined so lovingly about our fingers crisp and curl in fire? Forbid it just God I Arc the dead crowding the cities ? Are they filling too fast the space that should be allotted to business ? Is even death to make room for the rushing car ? Is the dust of our houre- He has made. We do not object to the progress of science. We have no desire to oppose investigation or to 'circumscribe the in" tellect of man. But we do object to a man, made in the likeness of God, into whom he has breathed the divine breath of life, bequeathing his body to a party of hair brained fanatics, to test the power of a chemical process, as much in opposition to divine law as to the decencies of civilized society. That cremation will ever become universal or even hoi** crated we do not believe; but it shocks humanity, that a class of intelligentiuen should thus abuse the “talents” intrusted to their care. Talents that, if rightly applied, might win the applause of the world, but thus becoming the means of bringing ridicule upon the possessors. We should think the 'divine decree, “Dust thou art and unto dust thou shalt return," and the Godly law that “the graves shall give up their dead,” should and would be sufficient bar to those who understand that tho’ science, be religion, it is not Christianity. SOPHIE. Bel Air, 1874. Letter from Silverton* [Correspondence of the Aiken Journal. Silverton, June 23d, 1874. Dear Journal :—Having recently traveled over a small portion of Aiken and Barnwell counties, we have thought that perhaps a line about the crops, etc., would not be uninteresting, sp we send you this. As faT as our observation extended we found the growing crops of both corn and cotton, rather poor—this remark, however, applies more particularly to the cotton crops. We have never seen at this season of the year a poorer prospect for a cotton crop. The first or early planting is quite small and look yellow. The later planting, however, is looking much more healthy. Tile corn is -quite small. There aresome good spots, yet in the main, the corn crop is not very promising. We noticed one very pretty field of corn near your town, on the plantation of Mr, Randall, we think. So much for the crops. We have here a flourishing Grange of the Order of the Patrons of Husbandry, known as Silverton Grange, numbering near fifty members. Dr. Isaac Foreman, Master, and J. J. Meyer, Secretory, P. O., Jackson, P. R. ll. ll., S. C. We also •have a Division of the Sons cd* Temper" ance. which is steadily growing in numbers. We trust the day is fast dawning when dram shops and dram drinking will bo numbered witli the things that marks that, reading the future, illuminated by the candle of experience and the kerosene of wisdom, with a little help from old friends now. (as the negro preacher said) “Scepters," (Spearers,) he sees plainly that to America will come a plague and a famine, un overthrow of government, etc. J to Europe the death of the present Pope, a German in his place, (not unliked by the present occupant, is very old, and Bismark will name his successor;) to England the death of the Queen, the burning of London, the establishment of the commune, and “hell broth" generally for breakfast, dinner and supper. In the meantime those living in New York feel encouraged as they are to be drowned when the city subsides, instead of dying of the plague and being considerably starved as the rest of the country will be. I understand tint George Francis Train himself expects to escape the pleaguc, by the free use of Turkish baths; and, accordingly, is scrubbed vigorously three times per week. I have no doubt hut that he will be the better for his washing, at any event. Aa for the other prophet let us hope that he sleeps in his life preserver, upon a safety raft instead of a bed, and with the roof of his hoop* renuv^d. po 'n* te \ .i * I I" vrhf* H •    I    r* * rite i us arc be***** £ !•*.» ii co* uuuft euuuaiu ii*® wave, and that hie filmily take watch and watch to be ready to steer for Philadelphia whenever tho subsidence comes off. I understand that the exports and imports for May of this y»*ar into tho A . port of Mow York arc each in excess cf last year, showing a gratifying roo#ver|f"J> from the panic. On the stock exchange* however, prices are declining, and wW rule lower for sometime to come. There ie more corn planted around* New York than for jeafs previous; ani if the high prices of this year have had the same effect throughout the country, we may hope for an abundant corn crop, and cheap bacon next fall. The panic has caused a fall in rent, and in the price of land, buildings, &c. I have seen an advertisement of a new “digging plough,” which does very similar work to spading; but as the price is each, I don’t expect to see them in common use, although they are said to plough six acres per day. . The hay crop is the heaviest for years past; and, if saved in good order, will make up for the poor crops of the last two years. I am asked often who is to be our next Governor, what we will do with Moses, «&c. T noticed in an Augusta paper that ex-Governor Scott was to be a candidate for his former position at the n£Xt election, and that he has the hearing of an honest man. Now, what is the bearing of an honest man ? I have known a lew of them in my time. One was round shouldered, and walked looking at the ground ; another straight as an were. Fine showers of rain Health of the county, good. late.— Letter I rom New York. dozen or single jar, at Sat tort Ii wait’s. ol progress hold g«ds to be scattered to the winds to make way for the “Alrighty dollar?” [Correspondence of ibp Aiken Journal.] New York, June 23, ^7-1. Editor Journal :—New York is both amused and agitated by certain prophecies as to her existence. One is from a man (said to be crazy) to the effect that the city will suddenly disappear this summer, and, having sunk beneath the sea, America will have to make poor little Boston, or large-frauied but empty Philadelphia, her metropolis henceforth. The other is from George Francis Train, who is nothing- of a prophet-—(on thinking it over I conclued arrow, with an eye like an-eagle. I know an honest man who is lame ; another who has anriinpediment in his speech, and one. alas ! who is blind. This is but another step added to that , he is nothing ) George Francis T. re- Here in New York, you know, justice is blinded to keep her from stealing from the scales ; and the only way I can conceive of for giving many of our South Carolina officials the bearing of “honest men,” is to put out their eyes, remove their arms, add make them stand where they could not use their feet. This is my patent, but I generously give it to the people for use. I hear from Paris that they had cold weather and snow in April ; and my informant concludes the letter, atter a few lines, commendatory of “Nice and Mentoni,” b\ sating G at afer searching all Europe the clin.ate of Aiken was nowhere surpassed and very seldom equaled.    '    Yours. Freeman. ;