Rufus L. Hughes Diary
[front cover]
            Love                Love                Love
                                                Ruf. L. Hughes
 
Ruf L. Hughes Scrap Book.
Nov 16/61.                  Fort Morgan
                                                Ala.
 
                        From his friend
                                    Jno. A. Billups.
 
                                                Ruf. L. Hughes
                                                Feb 16th           Fort Morgan
                                                            1862                Alabama
 
RUF. L. HUGHES
PRIVATE
SCRAP JOURNAL BOOK
 
                                                Ruf. L. Hughes
                                                                        Jan’y 8th 1862.
                                                            Miss E.—
 
 
                                                Ruf. L. Hughes
                                                                        2d Ala. Regt
 
                                                                        Ruf L. Hughes
                                                                                    August 15th 1863
 
[sideways] R L Hughes
                        42d Ala Regt
                        Gen. Moore’s Brig.
                                    Gen Forney’s Divis
                                                Gen Pemberton Corps
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
[inside front cover]
3
                        “Index”
                                                Page
References                              2
Love                                        3-15
Friendship                               16-21
Despondency & Despair         22-29
Ambition                                 30-32
Change                                    33-34
Absence-Farewell                   35-36
For Love & Friendship’s Al.  37-41
Patriotism                               42-45
Miscel. Selections                   46
Songs                                      107
 
The Fall of Vicksburg-Page 66
                                    Ruf L. Hughes
                                                42d Ala Regt
                                                Sept 1st 1863
 
[top right]
Ruf L. Hughes
 
 
 
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                                                                                                                                    4
            In this book is will be contained prose & poetry—such as will be selected from different authors, to prove appropriate for near every different state of mind.
            Those looking forward to the summit of fame may here find something by which they may be governed and guided on that path which one wrong step may prove totally destructive to all of ambition’s progress.
            To the lover, it will serve as a companion, with whom he can dwell in sweet soliloquy—Here he can find expression to his feelings, and the perusing of this will prove to pure a balm in despair—an adjoined hope in fond anticipations.
            And in other states of feeling, I hope to be able to select pieces appropriate, so that in whatever position I may be placed I can seek, in my hour of solitude, consolation from this.—Where consolation is found there the heart rejoiceth—Hence, it is for my own enjoyment that I fill this book with selections of my choice.
            I may need sympathy, or I may require expression for overflowing bliss—I know not what I may desire; but if this book fails to serve any emergency, I shall seek other recompense.
 
            Bess
 
 
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5
References.
Milton’s “Paradise Lost.”                               Joel II C. & 28th Verse.
Book   II         Line     423                              Ezekiel XXXVI, C. & 25th & 6th Verses
“          IV        “          736                              Pollok V about middle
“          IV        “          780                              “          About Latter part V.
“          VIII     “          436                              Shakspeare, Romeo & Juliet Act II. Sc. II.
“          IX        “          1016                            296
“          X         “          1
“          X         “          158
“          X         “          281
“          X         “          460
“          X         “          480
“          X         “          648
“          X         “          720 to End.
“          XI        “          296
 
 
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                                                                                                                                    6
“Love.”
“Love thee! yes, dear lovely one,
Thee I’ll love and only Thee:
And, whatever cares invade,
Happy in thy love of me!”
 
Thy lovliness, gentleness, and goodness all surpass all extermal charms! (Ruf.)
 
True as the needle to the pole,
Or as the dial to the sun;
Constant as gliding waters roll,
Whose swelling tides obey the moon;
From every other charmer free,
My life and love shall follow thee! (Boothe.)
 
Love’s heralds should be thoughts
Which ten times faster glides than the sun beams
Driving back shadows over lowering hills. (Shaksp.)
 
Fly betimes, for only they
Conquer love who run away. (Carew)
 
“I loved thee, and must love thee still,
            In memory of the past,
Amid whate’er of earthly ill
            My future lot is cast!
E’er in my boyhood’s sunny prime,
When brightly from the urn of time,
            Life’s golden moments fell.
Thou wert a peri to my eyes,
Lent from Love’s own sweet paradise,
            In my young heart to dwell!”
 
            I have found
One true companion, one dear soul is mine,
Whose converse still doth soothe, arouse, refine! (Howitt.)
 
 
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7
Give me the boon of love!
            The path of fame is drear,
And glory’s arch doth ever span
            A hill-side cold and sere.
One wild flower from the path of Love,
            All lowly though it lie,
Is dearer than the wreath that waves
            To stern Ambition’s eye. (H. F. Tuckerman.)
 
They fabled not in days of old,
That love neglected soon will perish;
Throughout all time the truth doth hold,
            That what we love we ever cherish.
For when the sun neglects the flower,
            And the sweet, pearly dews forsake it,
It hangs its head, and from that hour,
            Prays only unto death to take it.
So may I droop, by all above me,
            If ever I forget to love thee! (Theo. Miller.)
 
“One sacred oath has tied our loves,
            As thus the flowers I bind,—
And sweet as rose to lily proves,
            Our sacred bond we find!”
 
Dear art thou to me now as in that hour
When first love’s wave of feeling, spring-like, broke
Into bright utterance, and we said we loved. (Bailey.)
 
 
                                                She
Attracts me with her gentle virtues, soft
And beautiful, and heavenly. (Hillhouse.)
 
“No other one do I adore;                               “Though the hollow world deceive thee,
Now tell me, what can I say more?”              Mine’s a heart that never will.”
 
 
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“If every drooping floweret had a soul,
And heavenly inspiration breathed from it,
And on each trembling leaf that bends to earth,
Rested an angel thought, instead of dew,
This flower would then be like thee!”
 
Yes, woman’s love’s a holy light,
And when ‘tis kindled, ne’er can die;
It lives, though treachery and slight
To quench it’s constancy may try;
Like Ivy, where to cling ‘tis seen,
It wears an everlasting green. (Anonymous.)
 
I loved thee—not because thy brow
Was bright and beautiful as the day,
Nor that on thy sweet lip the glow
Was joyous as yon sunny ray
No; though I saw the fairest far,
The sun that hid each meaner star,
Yet ‘twas not this that taught me first
The love that silent tears have nursed.
And now could ever beauty wane,
Till not one noble trace remain;
Could Genious sink in dull decay,
And wisdom cease to lend her ray;
Should all that I have worshipped change;—
Even this could not my heart estrange;
Thou still wouldst be the first,—the first
That taught the love sad tears have mussed! (Mrs. Embury.)
 
“Believe me, M—, lovers have their wars,    “How can I e’er more blessed be
And Cupid his compas well as Mars.”           Than in my near access to thee?”
 
“Say is your heart from others free,               If you sincerely love me yet,
Are your affections all for me?”                     I pray you haste the time to set. (Ruf.)
 
 
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9
M—, dear, thou art to me
            The ony one alive,
For whom it would a pleasure be
            To toil, or work, or strive. (C. B. Clark.)
 
“If with true love a heart can beat,
            I’m sure that love is mine;
Each hour I pray that I may meet
            The faithful love of thine!”
 
                                    Thinkest thou
That I could live, and let thee go,
Who art my life itself?—no—no! (Moore.)
 
The very thoughts of change I hate,
            As much as of despair;
Nor ever covet to be great,
            Unless it be for her. (thee) (Parnell.)
 
Do I not in plainest truth
Tell you—I do not, nor I cannot love you! (Shaks.)
 
Didst thou but know the inly touch of love,
Thou wouldst as soon go kindle fire with snow,
As seek to quench the fire of love with words! (Shakspeare.)
 
S— I love thee! by my life I do;
I swear by that which I will lose for thee,
To prove him false, who says I love thee not! (Shaks.)
 
Sweet, good night!
This bud of love, by summer’s ripening breath
May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet. (Shakespeare.)
 
Tis you alone can give or save my doom (Ovid)
 
 
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See how she leans her cheek upon her hand!—
O, that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek! (Romeo & Juliet, Shakspeare.)
 
“Doubt thou the stars are fire;
Doubt that the sun doth move;
Doubt truth to be a liar;
But never doubt I love. (Shakspeare.)
 
Some falls are means the happier to rise. (Shaks.)
 
Oh! love well, but only once! for never shall the dream
Of youthful hope return again on life’s dark rolling stream! (Mrs. Norton.)
 
A mighty pain to love it is,
And ‘tis a pain that pain to miss;
But of all pains, the greatest pain
It is to love, but love in vain. (Cowley.)
 
I said, “you know—you must have known—
I long have lov’d—lov’d you alone,
But cannot know how dearly
I told you if my hopes were crossed
My every aim in life was lost—
You know I spoke sincerely.” (Hoffman’s poems.)
 
            Oh! couldst you know
With what a deep devotedness of woe
I wept thy absence, o’er and o’er again,
Thinking of thee, still thee, till thought grew pain;
And memory, like a drop that night and day
Falls cold and ceaseless, wore my heart away! (Moore’s Lalla Rookh.)
 
Love reckons hours for months, and days for years,
And every little absence is an age. (Dryden.)
 
 
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11
                        1                                                                      2
Love thee, dearest? love thee?                       Leave thee, dearest? leave thee?
            Yes, by yonder star I swear,                           No, that star is not more true;
Which through tears above thee                     Where my vows deceive thee,
            Shines so sadly fair;                                        He will wander too.
Though often dim,                                          A cloud by night
With tears like him,—                                    May veil his light,
Like him my trust will shine,                          And death shall darken mine—
And—love thee, dearest? love thee?              But—leave thee, dearest? leave thee?
Yes, till death I’m thine!                                No—till death I’m thine! (Thos. Moore.)
 
 
It is a fearful Thing
To love as I love thee; to feel the world—
The bright, the beautiful, joy-giving world—
A blank without thee. Never more to me
Can hope, joy, fear, wear different seeming. Now
I have no hope that does not dream for thee;
I have no joy that is not shar’d by thee;
I have no fear that does not dread for thee;
All that I once took pleasure in—my lute
Is only sweet when it repeats thy name;
My flowers, I only gather them for thee;
The book drops listless down, I cannot read,
Unless it is to thee; my lonely hours
Are spent in shaping forth our future lives,
After my own romantic fantasies.
(Wond’ring if some day they’ll be blended into one)
Thou art the star round which my thoughts revolve
Like Satellites. (Miss Landon’s poems.)
 
Of all affliction taught a lover yet,
‘Tis sure the hardest science to forget. (Pope.)
 
A mur’drous guilt shows not itself more soon,
Than love that would seem hid. (Shakspeare.)
 
 
9
                                                                                                                                    12
If life for me hath joy or light,
            ‘Tis all from thee,
My thoughts by day, my dreams by night,
            Are but of thee, of only thee!
Whate’er of hope or peace I know,
My zest in joy, my balm in woe,
To those dear eyes of thine I owe,—
            ‘Tis all from thee!
 
My heart, ev’n ere I saw those eyes,
            Seem’d doom’d to thee;
Kept pure till then from other ties,
            ‘Twas all for thee, for only thee!
Like plants that sleep till sunny May
Call forth their life, my spirit lay,
Till, touch’d by Love’s awakening ray,
            It lived for thee, it lived for thee!
 
When fame would call me to her heights,
            She speaks by thee;
And dim would shine her proudest lights,
            Unshared by thee, unshared by thee!
Whene’er I seek the Muse’s shrine,
Where Bards have hung their wreaths divine,
And wish those wreaths of glory mine,—
            ‘Tis all for thee, for only thee! (Moore’s Ballads, Songs, &c)
 
“I could not tell thee, if I would,
            How dear thou art to me;
For love is measured not by words,
            The love I bear to thee.
 
“I hear with gladness many a name,
            Thine hath a stranger spell;
‘Tis linked with all the hopes and fears
            That in my bosom dwell.
                                                                        (over)
 
 
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13
“There’s many a voice I love to hear,
            Rings out with gladsome tone;
But thine is sweeter—sweeter far,
            And hath a music all its own.
 
“It cheered me when the hand of care
            Lay heavy on my brow;
I would ‘twas more than fancy’s dream
            That I could hear it now!”
                                    This piece was selected &
given me by Mr. R. W. G. Marshall.
 
“I’ll think of thee when time has set
            His withering signet on my brow;
Though age may dim my vision, yet,
            I’ll love thee as I love thee now!
 
“Think not that years can change my heart
            Though other friends may altered be,
Affection, trust, shall ne’er depart,
            And I will still be true to thee!”
 
As turns
The flower to meet the sun,
E’en though, when storms and clouds arise,
It be not shone upon,—
Thus, Dear One, in thine eyes I see
The only light that beams on me.
 
                                    As thinks
The mariner of home,
When doomed through many a dreary waste
Of waters yet to roam,—
Thus doth my spirit turn to thee,
My guiding star o’er life’s wild sea. (Mrs. Embury.)
 
 
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14
Love thee?—so well, so tenderly
            Thou’rt loved, adored by me,
Fame, fortune, wealth and liberty,
            Were worthless without thee.
Though brimmed with blessings, pure & rare
            Life’s cup before me lay,
Unless thy love were mingled there,
            I’d spurn the draught away.
Love thee?—so well, so tenderly
            Thou’rt loved, adored by me,
Fame, fortune, wealth and liberty,
            Were worthless without thee!
 
Without thy smile the monarch’s lot
            To me were dark and lone,
While, with it, ev’n the humblest cot
            Were brighter than his throne.
Those worlds for which the conqu’ror sighs,
            For me would have no charms;
My only world, thy gentle eyes—
            My throne, thy circling arms!
Oh, yes, so well, so tenderly
            Thou’rt loved, adored by me,
Whole realms of light and liberty
            Were worthless without thee! (Thos. Moore.)
 
 
12
15                    Strongest language of man.
R—
Hail holy love! thou word that sums all bliss!
Gives and receives all bliss; fullest when most
Thou givest; Spring-head of all felicity!
Deepest when most is drawn. Emblem of God!
O’erflowing most when greatest numbers drink.
Essence that binds the uncreated Three:
Chain that unites creations to its Lord:
Centre to which all being gravitates.
Eternal, ever-growing, happy love!
Enduring all, hoping, forgiving all;
Instead of law, fulfilling every law:
Entirely blest, because thou seekest no more;
Hopes not, nor fears; but on the present lives,
And holds perfection smiling in thy arms.
Mysterious, infinite, exhaustless love!
On earth mysterious, and mysterious still
In heaven; sweet chord that harmonizes all
The harps of Paradise; the spring, the well,
That fills the bowl and banquet of the sky.
                                                            (Pollok’s Course of Time, Book V.)
 
When Love is kind,                            But should I see
            Cheerful and free,                               Love giv’n to rove
Love’s sure to find                              To two or three,
            Welcome from me.                             Then good-bye, Love!
 
But when Love brings                        Love must, in short,
            Heart-ache or pang                             Keep fond and true,
Tears, and such things—                    Through good report,
            Love may go hang!                             And evil too.
 
If love can sigh                                   Else, here I swear,
            For one alone                                      Young Love may go,
Well pleased am I                               For aught I care—
            To be that one.                                                To Jericho.
                                    (Moore—National Airs.)
 
 
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16
Marde
 
 
16
18
Friendship.      Ruf.
A friend should bear his friend’s infirmities. (Shaks.)
 
Friendship above all ties doth bind the heart,
And faith in friendship is the noblest part. (Lord Ortiz.)
 
First on thyself deliberate with thyself;
Pause, ponder, sift; not eager in the choice,
Nor jealous of the chosen; fixing, fix;—
Judge before friendship, then confide till death. (Young’s Night Thoughts.)
 
Friendship! mysterious cement of the soul!
Sweet’ner of life, and solder of society.
I owe thee much! Thou has deserv’d of me
Far, far beyond what I can ever pay! (Blair’s Grave.)
 
                                    Thou art the friend.
To whom the shadows of long years extend. (Byron’s Childe Harrold)
 
And what is friendship but a name,
            A charm that lulls to sleep?—
A sound that follows wealth and fame,
            But leaves the wretch to weep! (The Hermit—Goldsmith)
 
A generous friendship no cold medium knows,
Burns with one warmth, with one resentment glows;
One must our union, our resentment be,
My friend must hate the man who injures me! (Anonymous.)
 
How much to be prized and esteem’d is a friend,
On whom we can always with safety depend!
Our joys, when extended, will always increase,
And griefs, when divided, are push’d into peace. (Mrs. Margaret Smith.)
 
 
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20
Yes, the summer of life passes quickly away,
            Soon the winter of age sheds its snow on the heart;
But the warm sun of friendship, that gilded youth’s day,
            Shall still thro’ the dark clouds a soft ray impart. (A. Gibbs.)
 
I count myself in nothing else more happy,
As, in a soul remembering my good friends. (Shakspeare.)
 
            When thou art near,
The sweetest joys still sweeter seem,—
            The brightest hopes more bright appear,
And life is all one happy dream,
            When thou art near. (Rob’t. Sweney.)
 
            Often like the evening sun comes the
Memory of former times o’er my soul. (Ossian.)
 
 
22
This subject is for my soul-sick friends.
Despondency & Despair.
I turn me back and find a barren waste,
Joyless and rayless; a few spots are there,
Where briefly it was granted me taste
The tenderness of youthful love—in air
The charm is broken. (Percival.)
 
Oh! life is a waste of wearisome hours,
            Which seldom the rose of enjoyment adorns,
And the heart that is soonest awake to the flowers,
            Is always the first to be touched by the thorn. (Moore.)
 
The last link is broken,
            That bound me to thee;
The words thou hast spoken
            Have rendered me free. (Bayley.)
 
When lovers meet in adverse hour,
            ‘Tis like a sun-glimpse through a shower;
A watery ray an instant seen,
            Then darkly closing clouds between! (Scott.)
 
The conflict is over, the struggle is past,
I have looked, I have loved, I have worshipped my last;
Now back to the world, and let fate do her worst,
On the heart that for thee such devotion hath nursed. (Chas. F. Hoffman.)
 
“Yes!” I answered you last night;
“No!” this morning, sir, I say.
Flowers seen by candle light,
Will not look the same by day! (Miss Barrett.)
 
Speak not of comfort—‘tis for lighter ills,
I will indulge my sorrow and give way
[last line missing, paper torn]
 
 
23
It may be that I shall forget my grief;
It may be time has good in store for me;
It may be that my heart will find relief
From sources now unknown. Futurity
May bear within its folds some hidden spring
From which will issue blessed springs; and, yet,
Whate’er of joy the coming year may bring,
The past—the past!—I never can forget! (Mrs. Hale.)
 
Oh! I am sick of this dark world,
My heart, my best affections blighted;
My sails of joy forever furl’d
My dawning hopes so soon benighted! (J. H. McIlvane.)
 
Farewell! my life may wear a careless smile,
My words may breathe the very soul of lightness;
But the touch’d heart must deeply feel the while,
That life has lost a portion of its brightness.
And woman’s love will never be a chain,
To bind me to its nothingness again! (Epes Sargent.)
 
The fond illusions I have cherish’d—
            Anticipations once so fair—
Calmly I hear they all have perish’d—
            But ‘tis the calmness of despair! (J. T. Watson.)
 
So farewell hope, and with hope farewell fear;
Farewell remorse; all good to me is lost;—
Evil, be thou my good! (Milton’s P. Lost.)
 
What next? I know not, do not care.—
            Come pain or pleasure, weal or woe,—
There’s nothing which I cannot bear,
            Since I have borne this withering blow! (J. T. Watson.)
 
 
24
Oh! vanished are my earthly charms joys,
The charms of life for me are o’er;
For she I loved is false to me
And I shall never see her more!
 
“I try to check the rising sigh,
I strive to banish my unrest;
But all in vain, for love and pride
Are ever warring in my breast!
 
“I might have borne to see her die,
Although I might have perished too;
But, oh! how like a living death
The thought that she has proved untrue!
 
“The heart may bear misfortune’s sting,
May struggle on through grief and pain;
But once deceived by one it loves,
It never beats the same again!
 
“As clouds that skirt the eastern sky,
Are gilded by the setting sun,
And left in all their former gloom,
When he his daily course has run;
 
“So love’s bright flame illumed my breast
Whilst I was fettered by his chain;
But love has fled, and now, alas!
My heart is but a blank again!”
                                    Selected & given
me by Mr. Rob’t. G. Marshall.
 
I loved her well: I would have loved her better,
Had love been met with love; as ‘tis, I leave her
To brighter destinies, if so she deems them! (Byron’s Heaven & Earth.)
 
 
25
“Oh! ever thus, from childhood’s hour,
            “I’ve seen my fondest hopes decay;
“I never loved a tree or flower,
            “But ‘twas the first to fade away,
“I never nursed a dear gazelle,
            “To glad me with its soft black eye,
“But when it came to know me well,
            “And love me, it was sure to die!
“Now too—the joy most like divine
            “Of all I ever dreamt or knew,
“To see thee, hear thee, call thee mine,—
            “Oh misery! must I lose that too? &c.” (Lalla Bookh. Fire Worshippers.)
 
 
26
Mine after-life! what is mine after-life?
My day is closed! The gloom of night is come!
A hopeless darkness settles o’er my fate!! (Joana Bailie.)
 
 
30
Ambition!
Ambition has but two steps; the lowest,
Blood—the highest, envy. (Lily’s Midas.)
 
“The heights by great men reached and kept
            Were not attained by sudden flight;
But they, while their companions slept,
            Were toiling upward in the night.”
 
 
33
Change!
“I am not changed!
My heart still throbs for thine;
            They say my vows deceive thee,
While I in anguish pine.
            I am not changed—they wronged me,
When they say I’m false to thee;
Oh! wilt thou not believe me?
Oh! come thyself and see!
 
“You wrong yourself and me, Love,
            To list to tales so strange,
Come to this heart and see, Love,
            If there be falsehood—change.
Alas! since they’ve bereft me
            Of joy, of peace and you,
One precious hope relieves me,—
My death shall prove me true!” (A song.)
 
In bower and garden rich and rare
There’s many a cherished flower;
Whose beauty fades, whose fragrance flits—
Within the flitting hour.
Not so the simple forest leaf,
Unprized, unnoticed lying,—
The same through all its little life—
It changes but in dying.
 
Be such and only such, my friends;
Once mine, and mine forever;
And here’s a [picture of hand] to clasp in theirs,
That shall desert them never,
And thou be such, my gentle Love,
Time, chance, the world defying;
And take, ‘tis all I have, a heart
That changes but in dying! (G. W. Doarie.)
 
 
35
Absence—Farewell!
He—
On to the field our doom is sealed,
            To conquor or be slaves;
This sun shall see our nation free,
            Or set upon our graves!
                        She—
Farewell, oh! farewell, my love,
            May Heav’n thy guardian be;
And send bright angels from above,
            To bring thee back to me!
                        He—
On to the field, the battle-field,
            Where freedom’s standard waves,
This sun shall see our tyrant yield,
            Or shine upon our graves! (Moore’s Songs &c.)
 
                                    We must part a while;
A few short months—though short they must be long
Without thy dear society; but yet
We must endure it, and our love will be
The fonder after parting—it will grow
Intenser in our absence, and again
Burn with a tender glow when we (I) return! (Percival’s Poems.)
 
That word, “Farewell!”
How dread the sound,
In a true lover’s ear!—
It makes him sad,
And a month rolls round
As slowly as the year! (Ruf.)
 
 
37
For Love’s & Friendship’s Albums.
“What thoughts, beyond the reach of thought,
            To tell what they may be,
Shall in succession here be brought
            From depths no eye can see?
 
“These thoughts are now upon their way,
            Like light from stars unseen,
Though ere they reach us, many a day
            And year may intervene.
 
“Thoughts which shall spring in friendship’s breast,
            Or Genious’ touch might fire;
Thoughts which good angels might suggest,
            Or God, Himself inspire.
“Such in these pages pure and bright,
            By many a willing hand,
Be sweet in characters of light,
            And here unfading stand;
“That she who owns the whole, may find
            Revealed in every part,
The trace of some ingenious mind,—
            The love of one warm heart!”
 
Sweet lady, wilt thou think of me,
When friendship’s flowers are round thee wreathing,
And Love’s delirious flattery
            Within thy ear is softly breathing?
O, let my friendship, in the wreath,
            Though but a bud among the flowers,
Its sweetest fragrance round thee breathe—
            ‘Twill serve to soothe thy weary hours. (Mrs. Amelia B. Welby.)
 
Cast an occasional thought upon your absend friend. (Ruf.)
 
 
38
“The time is near when we must part,
            And I must separate from thee,
My lips responding to my heart
            Requests that you will think of me.”
 
“What is an Album? ‘tis a shrine,
Where love may breathe his vows divine;
‘Tis affection’s book, I think,
Where love is writ with pen and ink,
A memento—a friend-writ book,
A glass in which our friends may look.
‘Tis a good ambrotype, I ween,
Of friends and faces we have seen,
The Album then, is Memory’s friend,
And will its kind assistance lend,—
And in some future year ‘twill show
The friend, beloved long, long, ago.
How blest dear M— I then will be,
If you can catch a glimpse of me!”
 
In after years—when thou perchance,
            As thoughts of Auld Lang Syne arise,
‘Midst other scenes shouldst cast a glance
            Along these pages—should thine eyes
Rest on this tribute—think of me—
            Think kindly, as I shall of thee. (J. T. Watson.)
 
“Flower after flower comes forth in spring,
Bird after bird begins to sing;
Till copse and field in richest bloom
Sparkle with dew and breathe perfume—
While hill and valley all day long,
And half the night resound with song;
So may acquaintance, one by one
Come, like spring-flowers to meet the sun,
And o’er these pages pure and white,
Kind words, kind thoughts, kind prayers write.
 
 
39
Which sweeter odor shall dispense
Than vernal blossoms to the sense;
Till woods and streams less fair appear
Than autographs or sketches here;
Or like the minstrel of the Grove,
Pour strains of harmony and love.
In which the least can bear a part,
More exquisite than all the notes
Of nightingale and thrushes’ throats.
Thus shall this book, from end to end,
Show, in succession, friend on friend
By their own living hands portrayed,
In prose and verse, in light and shade.
By pen and pencil till her eye,
Who owns the volume shall descry
On many a leafsome, lovely trace,
Reminding of a lovlier face!
With here and there the humble line
Recalling such a phiz as mine—
‘Vera amicitia sempiterna est!’” (J.C.H.J’s. Scrap-book)
 
“Forget me not! What varied feeling
            These little magic words impart;
Absence and Friendship at once revealing—
            They sadden, while they soothe, the heart!
 
“Forget me not! Whatever woes
            In life’s precarious path beset one—
They’ll soften, if affection knows
            That those I love will not forget one!” (From Cas’ Scrap-book.)
 
 
42
Patriotism.
How sleep the brave who sink to rest,
By all their country’s wishes blest;
When spring with dewy fingers cold
Returns to deck their hallowed mould,
She there shall findress a sweeter sod
Than fancy’s feet have ever trod.
By fairy hands their knell is rung,
By forms unseen their dirge is sung.
There honor comes, a pilgrim grey,
To bless the turf that wraps their clay.
And, shall awhile, freedom repair
To dwell a weeping hermit there. (Collins.)
 
Give me the death of those
Who for their country die;
And, oh! be mine like their repose
When cold and low they lie.
Their lovliest mother earth
Enshrines the fallen brave;
In her sweet lap who gave them birth
They find their tranquil grave. (Montgomery.)
 
 
43
“The Volunteer’s Fairwell.”
“Farewell dearest, e’en though fondly,
            Falls thy gentle pleading tone,
Yet, my country bids me hasten
            To the heights of Washington;
Where the base, low-born fanatic
            Threatens with a bloody hand
To invade, to waste and plunder
            This, my cherished, native land.
 
“Though thy soft and gentle wooings
            Bid me linger by thy side,
Yet I know so proud a maiden
            Would not be a coward’s bride;                                             1861
No, no dearest though thy sorrow
            Soon should bless a soldier’s grave,
Yet ‘twere sweet to know thy tears
            Fell where slept the free and brave.
 
“For when wild and red the battle,
            Rages on the bloody plain;
Where the curse of the avenger
            Rings about the dead again,—
Where the ‘Guards’ my Southern brothers,
            Round me stand, or near me lie,
There you’ll know how Southern patriots,
            For their country love to die!
 
“Farewell dearest! think upon me,
            When thy voice no more I hear
Think, and love me when no longer,
            Friends and loving ones are near;
And when the storm of battle’s over,
            And the camp-fires dimly burn,
Then I’ll pray that watching angels
            Guard my love for my return”
 
 
44
2nd Reg. Ala. Vol.
Fort Morgan. Feb. 12th 1862
Dear Ruf:
            The spectacle of marching squadrons and the clash of arms admonish us that the temple of peace is closed, and that the chivalry of the sunny South have been called upon to relinquish the comforts and hallowed associations of home to defend all that is dear to freemen. We, in common with our countrymen, and in obedience to the mandate of patriotism, are enlisted in this noble cause of Southern independence. Thus situated we can appreciate the eloquent sentiment of the following sonnet and subscribe to the bold demand:—
“Shriek out hoarse Guns unto the startled air!
A Nation’s Liberty! a Nation’s Peace,
Hangs on your thunders, and await release
From thraldom, baser than base souls could bear.
Ring through the Land the cry of struggling Greece,
When round her swarmed the Persian hosts, and swear
To Fall—not Fly! And let the lurid glare
Of War’s red Carnival, heighten and increase,
Till Carnage frighted, trembles in his lair!
So, be each Field that erst was blooming fair,
A blood-strewn witness—tribute to the Cause
That strikes for Freedom, and at Hated Law—
So like the Braves, who thronged the passage at Pylae
Perish unconquered, or live mighty and Free.”
                                                Your true friend
                                                            W. J. Spillman
                                                                        Columbus, Miss.
 
 
46
Miscellaneous Selections.
I have no urns, no dusty monuments;
No broken images of ancestors,
Wanting an ear or nose; no forged tables
Of long descents, to boast false honors from. (Jonson’s Cataline.)
 
He that to ancient wreaths can bring no more
From his own worth, dies bankrupt on the score. (Jno. Cleaveland.)
 
I long not for the cherries on the tree,
So much as those owhich on thy lips I see;
And more affection bear I to the rose
That in thy cheek, than in a garden grows. (Randolph.)
 
“Ah! could you look into my heart,
            And watch your image there;
You would own the sunny lovliness
            Affection makes it wear.”
 
My only love sprung from my only hate!
You early seen unknown, and known too late!
Prodigious birth of love it is to me,
That I must love a loathed enemy! (Shakspeare’s Juliet.)
 
Who soars too near the sun, with golden wings
Melts them;—to ruin, his own fortune brings. Shaks. Cromwell.
 
But ‘tis spring time all the year,
When my loved one is near. (A. B. Meek.)
 
Some I have chosen of peculiar grace
Elect above the rest (Milton’s P. Lost.)
 
 
47
“Say, tell one, is it vain to seek,
            That womanly heart of thine?
Oh! may I hope ‘twill ever beat
            In fond response to mine?”
 
“If to wed you will not tarry,                          “My husband first—I must obey!” are the
Pray, be cautious whom you marry!”             true sentiments of a devoted wife.
 
With thee conversing, I forget all time;
All seasons and their change—all please alike. (Milton. P.L.)
 
“Dear C— may thy life forever,
Be a constant scene of joy!
May the ties of my love forever
Grow in strength wthout alloy!
 
“Mayst thou be happy; may no care
Its shadows o’er thee cast;
Few be the pangs thou’rt doom’d to bear,
And those few quickly past!
 
“If sorrow o’er thy tender heart,
At times should hold its sway,
Thy virtue’ll foil its keenest dart,
And chase it all away!” (From Phil’s Scrap-book.)
 
“There is a light around my path,
            As bright as ever shone;
But I have found it is not good
            For man to live alone.”
 
“What is man’s philosophy
When woman proves untrue?
The loss of one but teaches him
To make another do!”
 
 
48
“As you are good, as you are fair,
            None, none on earth above you—
As pure in thought as angels are,
            To see you is to love you.”
 
Now old Desire doth in his death-bed lie,
            And young Affection gapes to be his heir;
That fair, for which love groaned, and would die,
            With tender Juliet match’d is now not fair.
Now Romeo is loved, and loves again,
            Alike bewitch’d by the charm of looks;
But to his foe suppos’d he must complain,
            And she steal love’s sweet bait from fearful hooks;
Being held a foe, he may not have access
            To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear;
And she, as much in love, her means much less
            To meet her new-belov’d any where;
But passion lends them power, time, means to meet,
Temp’ring extremities with extreme sweet! (Chorus to Romeo & Juliet. Shakspeare.)
 
“It is in the twilight hour,
The hour for peaceful rest;—
The sun is fast receding
In the far distant West.
The stars are shining brightly,
The moon is full and clear,
But my heart is sad and dreary,
For though, thou art not near.
The scenes of mirth and pleasure,
Are all forgot by me,
While in this hour of peaceful rest
My thoughts all turn to thee.” (From. S.S.B’s. Scrap-book.)
 
Let us love now in this our fairest youth,
When love can find a full and warm return. (Percival.)
 
 
49
All thy fellow-birds do sing,
Careless of thy sorrowing.
Even so, poor bird, like thee,
None alive will pity me.
Whilst as fickle fortune smil’d
Thou and I were both beguil’d.
Every one that flatters thee,
Is no friend in misery.
Words are easy like the wind;
Faithful friends are hard to find.
Every man will be thy friend;
Whilst thou hast wherewith to spend—
But if store of crowns be scant,
No man will supply the want.
If that one be prodigal,
Bountiful they will him call;
And with such like flattering,
‘Pity he were a King!’
If he be addict to vice,
Quickly him they will entice;
If to women he be bent,
They have him at commandment;
But if fortune once do frown,
Then farewell his great renown.—
They that fawn’d on him before,
Use his company no more.—
He that is thy friend indeed,
He will help thee in thy need;
If thou sorrow, he will weep;
If thou wake, he cannot sleep;
Thus of every grief in heart,
He with thee doth bear a part.
These are certain signs to know
Faithful friend from flattering foe. (Passionate Pilgrim. Shakspeare.)
 
 
50
                                                The fashion
Wears out more apparel than the man. (Shaks. Much Ado about Nothing.)
 
                                                Appearances deceive
And this one maxim is a standing rule:
Men are not what they seem. (Havard’s Scauderberg.)
 
                                                The hollow abyss
Heard far and wide, and all the host of hell
With deaf’ning shout return’d applause. (Milton’s Paradise Lost.)
 
He said, and as the sound of waters deep,
Hoarse murmers echoed to his words applause
Through the infinite host. (Milton’s P. Lost.)
 
No lovlier land the prophet viewed,
When on the sacred mount he stood;
And saw below transcendent shine,
The streams and groves of Palestine. (A. B. Week.)
 
But love is blind, and lovers cannot see
The pretty follies that they themselves commit;
For, if they could, Cupid himself would blush. (Shaks.)
 
Love will suspect where is no cause of fear;
And there no fear where it should most distrust. (Shakspeare.)
 
All holy images seem too impure
To emblem her I love. (Pollok’s Course Time.)
 
“Non vult sibi male”
                        Translation—
He knows on which side his head is buttered
 
 
51
Much beautiful, and excellent, and fair
Was seen beneath the sun; but naught was seen
More beautiful, or excellent, or fair
Than face of faithful friend; fairest when seen
In darkest day. (Pollok’s Course of Time.)
 
—life without her smile would be
Like earth without a flower. (Jno. H. Butler.)
 
            ‘Tis of all looks chief—
Of all perfections to be plain and brief. (Butler.)
 
[margin to following two quotations: Moral Worth]
 
‘Tis not the richest plant that folds
The sweetest breath of fragrance in;
‘Tis not the fairest form that holds
The mildest, purest soul within. (Rufus Dawes.)
 
To purchase heaven, has gold the power?
Can gold remove the mortal hour?
In life, can love be bought with gold?
Are friendship’s pleasures to be sold?
No: all that’s worth a wish, a thought,
Fair virtue gives unbribed, unbought.
Cease then on trash thy hopes to bind;
Let nobler views engage thy mind. (Dr. Johnson.)
 
Farewell! ‘tis mine to prove
            Of blighted hopes the pain;
But, O, believe, I cannot love
            As I have loved—again!
 
Farewell! ‘tis thine to change,
            Forget, be false, be free;
But know, wherever thou shalt range,
            That none can love like me! (Tupper.)
 
 
52
Go, deceiver, go!
            Someday, perhaps, thou’lt waken
From pleasure’s dream to know
            The grief of hearts forsaken! (Moore.)
 
When other friends are round thee;
            And other hearts are thine;
When other boys have crowned thee,
            More fresh and green than mine:—
Then think how sad and lonely
            This wretched heart will be;
Which while it beats—beats only,
            Beloved One! for thee! (G. P. Morris.
 
Yet do not think I doubt thee;
            I know thy trust remains;
I would not live without thee,
            For all the world contains.
Thou art the star that guides me
            Along life’s troubled sea;—
Whatever fate betides me,
            This heart still turns to thee! (G. P. Morris.)
A song—                                 From—“The Watcher.”)
 
[margin: Consolation.]
“There is no sunshine that hath not its shade,
Nor shadow that the sunshine hath not made;
There is no cherished comfort of the heart
That doth not own its tearful counterpart.
 
Thus through a perfect balance, constant flow
The sharp extremes of joy, and those of woe;
Our sweetest, best repose results from strife,
And death—what is it, after all, but life?” (From “Life among the Flowers”)
 
But he who would that expound words transcend,
Must talk in vain—(such is love)
                                    Pollok
 
 
53
[Margin: On Receiving a Lady’s Picture!]
This faint resemblance of thy charms,
            Though strong as mortal art could give,
My constant heart of fear disarms,
            Revives my hopes, and bids me live.
 
Here I can trace the locks of gold
            Which round thy snowy forehead wave,
The cheeks which sprung from beauty’s mould,
            The lips which made beauty’s slave.
 
Here I can trace—oh! no, that eye,
            Whose asure floats in liquid fire,
Must all the painter’s art defy,
            And bid him from the task retire.
 
Here I behold its beauteous hue;
            But where’s the beam so sweetly straying,
Which gave a lustre to its blue,
            Like Luna o’er the ocean playing.
 
Sweet copy! far more dear to me,
            Lifeless, unfeeling as thou art,
Than all the living forms could be,
            Save her who placed thee next my heart.
 
She placed it, sad, with needless fear,
            Lest time might shake my wavering soul;
Unconscious that her image there
            Held every sense in fast control.
 
Through hours; through years, through time ‘twill cheer;
            My hope, in gloomy moments, raise;
In life’s last conflict ‘twill appear,
            And meet my fond expiring gaze. (Byron)
 
 
54
“Home—dear Home.”
“Where burns the loved hearth brightest,
            Cheering the social breast?
Where beats the fond heart lightest,
            Its humble hopes possessed?
Where is the smile of sadness,
            Of meek-eyed patience born—
Worth more than those of patience gladness,
            Which mirth’s bright cheeks adorn?
Pleasure is marked by fleetness
            To those who ever roam;
While grief itself has sweetness
            At Home—dear Home!
 
“Where blend the ties that strengthen
            Our hearts in hours of grief;
The silver links that lengthen
            Joy’s vsits, when most brief;
Their eyes in all their splendor
            Are vocal to the heart,
And glances gay and tender,
            Fresh eloquence impart.
Then dost thou sigh for pleasure?
            Oh! do not wildly roam!
But seek that hidden treasure
            At Home—dear Home!” (From J.C.H. Jone’s Scrap-book.)
 
Nay, if she love me not, I care not for her:
Shall I look pale because the maiden blooms?
Or sigh because she smiles on others?
Not I, by Heaven! I hold my place too dear,
To let it, like the plume upon her cap,
Shake at each nod that her caprice shall dictate. (Old Play Antiquary)
 
“Water falling day by day
Wears the hardest rock away!”
 
 
55
Hills of Tauk, bleak and barren,
Where my thoughtless childhood strayed—
How the northern tempest warring
Howled above thy turf’d shade!
 
Now no more the hours beguiling,
Former favorite haunts I see;
Now no more my M—e smiling
Makes ye seem a heaven to me! (Jas. A. Going)
 
“Education! Education!                                  “Education! Education!
Let it sing from home to home—                   Thro’ hill & vale it is chimed—
Never minding caste or station—                   All wish a deep potation;
Let it peal from highest dome!                       Who will confirm or bind?
 
“Education! Education!                                  “Education! Education!
List! the child doth speak it!                           Unfurl it to the breeze,
The cry has come from young creation!        And let wave o’er ev’ry nation—
Who will dare prevent or crush it?                 Over oceans—over seas!
 
“Education! Education!                                  “Till one shout from earth ascendeth,
Let it ring throughout the land;                      From all nations—blest and free—
Let it heave our mighty hand nation,              Oh! education ever giveth
Like the billows on the strand!                       True and perfect liberty!”
                                                            (From J.C.H. Jone’s Scrap-book.)
 
Aphorisms by Dr. Archibald Alexander:
The object of all knowledge is, truth.—
The essence of all moral goodness is, Love.—
The spring of all spiritual activity is, faith.—
The foundation of every virtue is, humanity.—
The first duty of a sinner is, repentance.—
The fountain of all blessing is, Jesus Christ.—
The source of all peace & grace is, the indwell of the Holy Ghost.—
Our own happiness is best promoted by seeking the welfare of others.—
The most effectual security against evil is, trust in God.
                                                                                    (over)
 
 
56
The most valuable riches are, contentment.—
The best antidote against melancholy is, occupation.—
The surest remedy against the fear of death is, the hope of Heaven.—
The greatest enemy of human happiness is, sin.—
The most effectual means of obtaining good for ourselves & others is, prayer.—
The light which must guide us in every step of
            our progress is, the Bible.
From the American Messenger.
 
Maid of Athens, ere we part,
Give, oh, give me back my heart!
Or, since that has left my breast,
Keep it now, and take the rest!
Hear my vow before I go,
[line in Greek]
 
By those tresses unconfined,
Woo’d by each Aegean wind;
By those lids whose jetty fringe
Kiss thy soft cheek’s blooming tinge,
By those wild eyes like the roe,
[same Greek line]
 
By that lip I long to taste;
By that zone-encircled waist;
By all the token-flowers that tell
What words can never speak so well;
By love’s alternate joy and woe,
[same Greek line]
 
Maid of Athens! I am gone:
Think of me, sweet! when alone.—
Though I fly to Istambol,
Athens holds my heart and soul;
Can I cease to love thee? No!
[same Greek line]       (Byron)
 
 
57
My boat is on the shore,
            And my bark is on the sea;
But, before I go, Tom Moore,
            Here’s a double health to thee.
 
Here’s a sigh to those who love me,
            And a smile to those who hate;
And, whatever sky’s above me,
            Here’s a heart for every fate.
 
Though the ocean roar around me,
            Yet it still shall bear me on;
Though a desert should surround me,
            It hath springs that may be won.
 
Wer’t the last drop in the well,
            And I gasping on the brink,
Ere my fainting spirit fell,
            ‘Tis to thee that I would drink.
 
In that water, as this wine,
            The libation I would pour
Should be—Peace to thine and mine,
            And a health to thee, Tom Moore! (Byron.)
 
This world is but a dream
Filled with imaginations;
And these all seem
To glory in wealth & relations.                      Nov’r. 30/61.
 
Moral worth goes unnoticed,
Unless accompanied by the purse—
And ‘tis a shame—
And will to many prove a curse. (Ruf.)
 
“Procul, O Procul este profani totaque absistete templo!
Trans. Be afar off, afar off, O ye profane & pollute not this temple!”
                                                                        This is the motto of the “Beulah Guards”
                                                                        (selected by Miss Augusta J. Evans.)
 
 
58
‘Tis done—and shivering in the gale
The bark unfurls her snowy sail;
And whistling over the bending mast,
Loud sings on high the fresh’ning blast;
And I must from this land be gone,
Because I cannot love but one.
 
But could I be what I have been,
And could I see what I have seen—
Could I repose upon the breast
Which once my warmest wishes blest—
I should not seek another zone,
Because I cannot love but one.
 
‘Tis long since I beheld that eye
Which gave me bliss or misery;
And I have striven, but in vain,
Never to think of it again;
For though I fly from Albion,
I still can only love but one.
 
As some lone bird without a mate,
My weary heart is desolate;
I look around, and cannot trace
One friendly smile or welcome face,
And even in crowds am still alone,
Because I cannot love but one.
 
And I will cross the whitening foam,
And I will seek a foreign home;
Till I forget a false fair face,
I ne’er shall find a resting-place;
My own dark thoughts I cannot shun,
But ever love, and love but one.
 
Thy poorest veriest wretch on earth
Still finds some hospitable hearth,
 
 
59
When friendship’s or love’s softer glow
May smile in joy or soothe in woe;
But friend or demon I have none,
Because I cannot love but one.
 
I go—but wheresoe’er I flee,
There’s not an eye will weep for me;
There’s not a kind congenial heart,
Where I can claim the meanest part;
Nor thou, who hast my hopes undone,
Will sigh, although I love but one.
 
To think of every early scene,
Of what we are and what we’ve been,
Would whelm some softer hearts with woe—
But mine, alas! has stood the blow,
Yet stil beats on as it begun
And never truly loves but one.
 
And who that dear loved one may be,
Is not for vulgar eyes to see,
And why that early love was crost,
Thou knowest the best, I feel the most;
But few that dwell beneath the sun
Have loved so long, and loved but one.
I’ve tried another’s fetters too,
With charms perchance as fair to view,
And I would fain have loved as well,
But some unconquerable spell
Forbade my bleeding breast to own
A kindred care for aught but one.
 
‘Twould soothe to take one lingering view,
And bless thee in my last adieu;
Yet wish I not those eyes to weep
For him that wanders o’er the deep
 
 
60
His home, his hope, his youth are gone,
Yet still he loves, and loves but one. (Byron.)
 
He heeds them not—one smile of hers
Is worth a world of worshippers—
They but the Stars’ adorers are—
She is the Heaven that lights the Star. (Moore’s Lalla Rookh.)
 
Come, if the love thou hast for me,
Is pure and fresh as mine for thee—
Fresh as the fountain under ground,
When first ‘tis by the lap-wing found. (Moore’s Lalla Rookh.)
 
“How sweetly does the moonbeam smile
“Tonight upon yon leafy isle!
“Oft, in my fancy’s wanderings,
“I’ve wished that little isle had wings,
“And we, within its fairy bow’rd,
            “Were wafted off to seas unknown,
“Where not a pulse should beat but ours,
            “And we might live, love, die alone!
“Far from the cruel and the cold,—
            “Where the bright eyes of angels only
“Should come around us, to behold
            “A paradise so pure and lonely.
“Would this be world enough for thee?—”
Playful she turn’d, that he might see
            The passing smile her cheek put on;
But when she marked how mournfully
            His eyes met hers, that smile was gone;
And bursting into heartfelt tears,
            “Yes, yes,” she cried, “My hourly fears,
My dreams have boded all too right—
            “We part—forever part—tonight—&c.”
                                                                        (Moore’s Lalla Rookh—Fire-Worshippers.)
Continuation of this on
Page 25
 
 
61
To Her.
“I ask not if the world unfold
            A fairer form than thine;
Tresses more rich in glowing gold,
            And eyes of sweeter shine.
 
“It is enough for me to know,
            That thou art fair to sight,—
That thou hast locks of golden flow,
            And eyes of playful light.
 
“I ask not if there beat on earth,
            A warmer heart than thine,—
A soul more rich in simple worth,
            A genious more divine.
 
“It is enough for me to prove,
            Thou hast a soul sincere;
A heart well-made for ardent love,
            A fancy rich and clear.
 
“Already by kind Heaven so fare,
Beyond my wishes blest,
I would not with presumptious prayer
            Petition for the best.
 
“While thou art wise, and good, and fair,
            Thou art that best to me;
Nor would I, might I choose, prefer
            A lover still to thee.”
 
“Let fate do her worst
There are relics of joy;—
Bright dreams of the past
She cannot destroy.” (From Cas’ Scrap-Book.)
 
 
62
Courtship
Two or three dears and two or three sweets,
Two or three balls and two or three treats,
Two or three Serenades given as a lure,
Two or three oaths how much they endure,
Two or three messages sent in one day,
Two or three times led out from the play,
Two or three tickets for two three times,
Two or three love-letters writ all in rhymes;
Two or three months keeping strict to these rules,
Can never fail making a couple of fools. (Dean Swift.)
 
                        Sweet-hearts Vs. War.
“Oh! dear, its shameful I declare,
            To make the men all go
And leave so many sweethearts here
            Without a single blow beau!
 
“We like to see them brave, ‘tis true,
            And would not urge them stay;
But what are we poor girls to do
            When they are all away?
 
“On Sundays, when we go to church,
            We look in vain for some
To meet us smiling on the porch,
            And ask to see us home.
 
“We told them we could spare them there,
            Before they had to go;
But, bless their hearts, we weren’t aware
            That we would miss them so.
 
“We miss them all in many ways,
            But truth will ever out;
 
 
63
The greatest thing we miss them for
            Is seeing us about.
 
“And then, we can’t enjoy a walk,
            Since all the beaux have gone;
For what’s the use (to use plain talk,)
            If we must trudge alone?
 
“But what’s the use of talking thus?
            We’ll try to be content;
And if they cannot come to us,
            A message may be sent.
 
“And we will watch them while they go,
            And cheer them on their way—
Our arms shall be their resting-place,
            When wounded sore they lay!
 
“We trust it may not ever come,
            To any warlike test;
We want to see our Southern homes
            Secured in peaceful rest.
 
“But if the blood of those we love,
            In freedom’s cause must flow,
With fervent trust in God above
            We bid them onward go!
 
“Oh! if the sons of Southern soil,
            For freedoms cause must die,
Her daughters ask no fairer boon
            Than by their side to die.”
 
 
64
“Money in your purse will credit you—
Wisdom in your head will adorn you;
Both in your necessity will serve you.”
                                                Feby 8th 1862
            If we work on marble it will perish; if we work upon brass time will efface it; if we rear temples they will crumble into dust.—
            But if we work upon minds immortal—if we imbue them with principles,—with the just fear of God and our fellowman, we engrave on those tablets something that will brighten through all eternity.            Danl Webster.
 
I see the                       “One riseth by another’s fall;
truth of this                             And some do climb so fast,
daily in                        That in the clouds they do forget                    good
Fort Morgan.                           What climates they have passed.”
 
                                    “Tears—“
            “There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, or deep contrition of unspeakable love. If there was wanting any argument to prove that man is immortal, I would look for it in the strong conclusive emotions of the breast when the soul has been deeply agitated, when the fountains of feeling are rising, and tears are gushing forth in cystalic streams. O, speak not harshly of the stricken one weeping in silence. Break not the solemnity by rude laughter or intrusive footsteps. Despise not a woman’s tears; they they are what makes her an angel. Scoff not if the stern heart of manhood is sometimes melted to tears of sympathy. They are what helps to elevate him above the brute.
 
 
65
I love to see tears of affection. They are painful tokens, but most holy. There is a pleasure in tears—an awful pleasure. If there were none on earth to shed a tear for me, I should be loath to live; and if no one might weep over my grave, I would never die in peace!”
                                                                                                            Ruf L. Hughes.
 
Napoleon’s toast with the American commissioner
“The memory of the French and the Americans who died on the field of battle for the independence of the New World.”
 
Oh! could you have seen her, that beautiful girl,
As she threw back her locks from her forehead of pearl—
While brilliant as star-light her eyelashes beamed,
And o’er her form the red blushes streamed.
As proudly she leaped to the warrior’s embrace,
You’d have marked in her wildness a forest-born race. (Red Eagle.)
 
Conscience makes cowards of us all. (Shakspeare)
 
When the mind proposes honorable ends, not only
the virtues, but the deities also, are ready to assist. (Lord Bacon)
 
Virtue is bold, and goodness never fearful—Shakspeare.
 
Errors, like straws, on the surface flow,
He who would find pearls must dive below. (Dryden)
 
With equal pace, impartial Fate
Knocks at the cottage and palace gate—Horace.
 
To quote the word of others is to strengthen
the sentiments of the one quoting
 
 
66
                        Fall of Vicksburg!
“Oh! Sacred Truth thy triumph ceased awhile,
And Hope, thy sister, ceased with thee to smile;
When leagued oppression poured to Southern wars,
Her whiskered pandoors, and her fierce huzzas—
Waved her dread standard to the breeze of morn—
Pealed her loud drum, and twangled her trumpet horn,
Tumultuous horror brooded o’er the van,
Presaging wrath to Vicksburg and to man!
 
“Vicksburg’s last Champion from the heights surveyed,
Wide o’er the field a waste of ruin laid—
‘Oh! Heaven’, he cried, ‘my bleeding country save.
Is there no hand on high to shield the brave?—
Yet though destruction sweeps these lovely plains—
Rise, fellowmen, our country yet remains—
By that dread name we wave our swords on high,
And swear for her to live—with her to die!’
 
“He said, and in the rampart’s height arrayed,
His trusty warriors, few, but undismayed—
Firm paced and slow, a horrid front they form,
Still as the breeze, but dreadful as the storm.
Low murmering sounds along their banners fly—
Revenge or death, their watch-word and reply.
Then pealed the notes onmipotent to charm,
And the loud tocsin tolled the last alarm.
 
“In vain, alas! in vain, ye gallant few,
From rank to rank your volleyed thunder flew.
Oh! bloodiest picture in the book of time,
Vicksburg fell unwept, without a crime!
Dropped from her nerveless grasp the shattered spear,
Closed her bright eye, and curbed her high career—
Hope for a season bade the world farewell,
And freedom shrinked as Vicksburg fell!!” (Campbell)
 
 
67
“Foede hunc mundan intravi, auxius vivi, purturbatus
egredion,—Causa causarum, miserere mei!”
 
Translation—I was born polluted—I have spent my life anxiously
            I die with trembling solicitude—Oh! thou cause of causes,
            have pity on me!—The words of a dying heathen philosopher
 
Amo te—
Amas ne me?
 
“Nihil sine magno labore vita dedit Mortalibus.”
 
“Labor ipse est voluptas.” in a horn.
 
“Quid tibi tain mentiri placet?”
 
“Multus labor omnia vincit.”
 
“Sapientia praestat omnibus.”
“Pro virtute et patria”
 
“Poeta nascitur, non fit.”
 
“Big words do not smite like war-clubs—
Boastful breath is not a bow-string—
Taunts are not so sharp as arrows—
Deeds are better things than words are—
Actions mightier than boastings. (Longfellow.)
 
“As unto the bow the cord is,
So unto the man is woman,—
Though she bends him, she obeys him—
Though she draws him yet she follows.
Useless, each without the other.” Longfellow.
 
 
68
Go not eastward, go not westward,
For a stranger, whom you know not;
Like a fire upon the hearth-stone
Is a neighbor’s homely daughter.
Like the star-light, or the moonlight,
Is the handsomest of strangers.” Longfellow.
 
 
73
Dear Ruf,
                        When in the midst of pleasures, and surrounded by loving and beloved ones, if a short truce be granted and memory in wanton flight wings her way to scenes that have vanished, peopling them with forms and faces, which pleased in days of yore, I ask but that they be remembered by you as by me; May love, happiness and peace attend your every footstep, and prosperity shower shower blessings along your pathway, is, the sincere wish of one whose happiest hours have been spent in the society of the friend to whom this is truthfully inscribed
                                                                                    Truly your friend
                                                                                                C. B. Clark
 
 
92
My Dear Friend, Ruf:
 
 
96
“Forsan haec olim meminisse juvabit.”
Oct. 25th 1865.
 
 
107
Songs.
            “The Faded Flowers.”
“The flowers I saw in the wild wood
Have since dropped their beautiful leaves
And many dear friends of my childhood
Have slumbered for years in the grave.
Though their flowers I can but remember
Their smiles I never more shall see
For the cold, chilly winds of December
Shall steal my companion from me!
 
“The roses may bloom on tomorrow
And many dear friends I have won
My heart can part but with sorrow
When I think of those that are gone
No wonder that I am broken-hearted.
And stricken with sorrow shall be
We have met we have love we have parted
My flower my companion from me!
 
“How dark looks this world and how dreary
When we part from the ones we love
There is a crown the faint and weary
When friends meet with loved ones above
Though in Heaven I can but remember
When from earth my proud soul shall be free
No cold, chilly winds of December
Shall steal my companion from me!”
 
 
108
“My Hopes Have Departed Forever!”
“My hopes have departed forever,
My vision of true love is o’er;
My heart will awaken, oh! never!
There’s joy for my bosom no more.
The roses that around me are blighted—
The garland I cherished is dead;
The faith once confidingly plighted
Is broke, and my loved one has fled!
 
“They saw that my life was decaying—
They knew that my stay would be brief.
And, still, though spirit was straying,
I told not a word of my grief.
No whisper revealed my deceiver,
No ear heard me sigh or complain.
My heart still adored its bereaver;
And I long but to meet him again!
 
“He came, but another had rifled
His heart of the love once mine own;
I grieved, but my anguish was stifled—
And shrank from his cold, formal tone.
The sun is now shining in billows
That roll in the far distant west;
But morning will shine through the willows,
And find me forever at rest.”
                                    Feby. 7th 1862.
 
“He comes, with lust in his eye, poverty
in his pocket, and hell in his heart!”
 
 
109
Come Dearest the Day-light Is Gone!
“Come, Dearest, the day-light is gone,
And the stars are unveiling to thee;
Come wander, my loved one, alone—
If alone thou cans’t call it with me.
Let us go where the wild flowers bloom,
Amid the soft dews of the night,
Where the orange dispels its perfume,
And the rose speaks of love and of light.
 
“Remember, Love, I must soon leave thee,
To wander ‘mid strangers alone;
When at eve thy sweet smile will not greet me,
Nor thy gentle voice at noon.
But, oh! ‘twill be sweet to remember,
That—though I’m far, far from thee—
That the hand of fate only can sever
My lasting affection for thee!”
                                    Feb’y. 7th 1862
 
                        “Prairie Flower”
“On the distant prairie where the heather wild
            In its quiet beauty lived and smiled,
Stands a little cottage and a creeping vine,—
            Love’s around its porch to twine
In the peaceful dwelling was a lovely child,
            With her blue eyes beaming soft and mild;
And the wavery ringlets of her flaxen hair
            Floating in the summer’s air.
                        “Fair as a lily, joyous and free,
Chorus             Light of that Prairie home was she.
                        Every one who knew her felt the gentle power—
                        Of Rosalie, the Prairie flower.
                                    2.
“On the distant Prairie, when the days were long,
Trippling like a fairy, sweet her song,
 
 
110
Like the summer blossom and the birds at play,
            Beautiful and bright as they.
When the twilight shadows gather’d in the west,
            And the voice of nature sunk to rest—
Like a cherub kneeling, seemed the lovely child,
With her gentle eyes so mild.
                                    Chorus.
                                    3.
“But the summer faded, and the chilly blast
            O’er that happy cottage swept at last.
When the autumn song-bird woke the dewy morn
            Little Prairie flower was gone.
For the angels whisper’d softly in her ear
            Child, thy father calls thee, stay not here;
And they gently bore her, robed in spotless white
            To their blissful home of light.”
                        “Though we shall never look on her more—
Chorus             Gone with the light and love she bore
                        Far away she’s blooming in the fadeless bower,
                        Sweet Rosalie, the Prairie Flower!”
                        Fort Morgan—Feb’y. 7th 1862.
 
“Oh! Take Me Back to Switzerland.”
By the dark waves of the rolling sea
            Where the white-sailed ships are tossing free,
Came a youthful maiden, Pale & sorrow laden,
            With a mournful voice sang she:
Oh!—take me back to Switzerland
            My own, my dear my native land,
I’ll brave all dangers of the main,
            To see my own dear land again.
                        La la….&c
I see its hills, I see its sreams, its blue lakes haunt
My restless dreames, When the day declineth,
Or the bright sun shineth,
Present still its beauty seems!
 
 
111
Oh! take me back to switzerland,
Upon the mountains let me stand
Where the flowers are bright & skies are clear
For oh! I pine I perish here.
                        La la….&c
For months along that gloomy shore,
‘Mid seabirds cry and ocean’s roar,
Sang that mournful maiden,
Pale and sorrow laden,
Then her voice was heard no more—
For far away from Switzerland
From home from friends from native land
Where foreign wild flowers coldly heave
The broken hearted found a “Grave”
                        La la &c.
 
            The Secession Gun.
Heard ye that sound that thunder sound
            Which sullenly hath now begun
Its muttering deep to cast around
(c) And make dread echoes from the ground
(g) It is the South’s (c) the (g) South’s (g) Seces-sion gun.
 
2nd Bold Calhouns sons the match applied,
On freedom’s side the rubicon;
And (d) thundering air the ocean wide
Has heard the hostile wo betide,
From Charleston’s Charle’s brave Seces-sion gun.
 
3th Again, again its booming comes!
Nor ever shall its work be done,
Till echoing thro’ our Southern homes
The cry is heard to arms! to arms!
From this the South’s the South’s Seces-sion gun.
 
4th Thro’ forest dark, o’er prairie wide,
In flowery mead, with silver run,
And down the streams where steamers glide,
The Southeron now with patriot pride,
 
 
112
Let loose his bold his bold Secession gun.
 
Alas! that ‘neath sunny clime
Where lived the loved George Washington,
These warning rounds together chime
To wake the South to Northern crime,
With this, the brave, Secession gun.
 
                                    Tennessee
Verse 1            “Tho’ silent hangs the tuneless lyre
                                    Tennessee, our Tennessee,
                        The tyrants seek to quench thy fire
                                    Tennessee, our Tennessee.
                        That quenchless flame can ne’er expire,
                        Its genial beams her sons inspire—
                        The foe that spoils shall soon retire—
                                    Tennessee, our Tennessee.
 
Verse 2            “Tho’ for a season sunk in woe,
                                    Tennessee, our Tennessee.
                        Tho’ now her prayer she breathes but low,
                                    Tennessee, our Tennessee.
                        Tho’ on her margin proudly glow
                        The colours of her hated foe—
                        She swears in wrath they yet shall know
                                    There still is life in Tennessee.
                                                            “
Verse 3            “Amid the gloom how sweet the thought
                                    Tennessee, our Tennessee!
                        This truth is with rich blessing bought,
                                    Tennessee, our Tennessee.
                        The liberty our fathers bought
                        This priceless boon they count but naught
                        Until our foes, at least, are taught
                                    There still is life in Tennessee.
                                                            “
 
 
113
Verse 4            “My noble State, for thee I sigh,
                                    Tennessee, our Tennessee.
                        Thy favor’d hour will soon draw nigh
                                    Tennessee, our Tennessee.
                        Thy true born sons will never fly
                        They’ll conquer or they’ll nobly die
                        Then let this be our battle cry
                                    There still is life in Tennessee.
                                                            “
Verse 5            “No fetters can your spirit tame
                                    Tennessee, our Tennessee.
                        Be thou as in the past the same
                                    Tennessee, our Tennessee.
                        By Zollicoffer’s hallow’d name
                        By Hatton’s deathless, peerless fame—
                        By all her martyr’d sons proclaim
                                    There still is life in Tennessee.
                                                            “
 
                                    “Lorena”
Vrse 1              The years creep slowly by, Lorena,
                                                            [?]
 
 
115
1st Ver.            “I know not why I love thee
                        Thou dost ne’er think of me;
                        Yet still my spirit lingers                                Repeat
                        Forever near to thee!
 
2d Ver.             “I think of thee, my Dearest
                        In my sad and lonely hours;
                        And the thought of thee comes o’er me         Repeat
                        Like the breath of morning flowers.
 
3d Ver.                        “I love but one and only one,
                        And thou alone art he (she)
                        Oh! love but one and only one,                      Repeat
                        And let that one be me!
 
                                    “Tell Him I Love Him Yet”
1st Verse          “Tell him I love him yet, as in that joyous time
                        Tell him I’ll ne’er forget, though mem’ry now be crime
                        Tell him when fades the light, upon this earth and sea,
                        I’ll dream of him by night; he must not dream of me.
 
Verse 2d          “Tell him to smile again in pleasure’s dazzling throng,
                        To wear another’s chain, to praise another’s song.
                        Before the loveliest shore, I’d have him bend the knee.
                        And breathe to her the prayer, He used to breathe to me.
 
Verse 3d          “Tell him that day to day, life looks to me more dim.
                        I falter when I pray, although I pray for him.
                        And bid him when I die, go to my favourite tree,
                        I shall not hear him sigh there, let him sigh for me.
                                                                        The above words were furnished
me by a lady friend.
 
 
                        Roll of the Lane Guards—1861
Capt. T. C. Lanier       1          Pri. J. W. Gray                        37            Pri. B. F. Wells           94
1st Lieut. R. T. Buta    2          J. M. Grafton              38        R. B. Weston                        95
2nd       R. K. Wells     3          Berry Hales                 39        R. G. Wilder             96
3rd        T. C. Mitchell 4          C. R. Hughes               40        J. E. Woolfolk                     97
                                                C. T. Hughes               41        N. H. Woods             98
                                                R. L. Hughes               42        J. T. Wallace                       99
1st Serg’t. B. B. Salmond-1     M. D. Hood                 43        M. H. Wallace                       100
2nd “     J. A. Billups    2          W. H. Halaman           44        S. W. Winborne        101
3rd “     P. Noland        3          W. G. Holder              45        J. B. Carver.            102
4th “     T. J. Bradford  4          D. Harden                   46        Com & non-com. off.   13
5  “      R. O. Billups   5          W. H. Irwin                 47                                Total   115
                                                J.C.H. Jones                48
                                                R. C. Jones                  49
Corp.   K. J. Bailey     1          Jno. Johnson               50        [symbols for]
“          Thos. Mobley  2          Jos. King                     51            Discharged
“          J. A. Going      3          J. L. King                    52        Deceased
“          S. S. Boughton4          J. B. Knox                   53        Killed during the war or
                                                F. M. Kent                  54                    died
Privates                                   M. M. Kent                 55        A. B. Murray
F.R.A. Shipman Drummer     T. V. Locke                 56                    &
Privates L. D. Bailey  1          Thos. Luke                  57        J. J. Locke
            C. H. Barham  2          J. W. Love                   58
            R. N. Boon      3          M. G. Lofton               59        were privates
            B. J. Boon       4          Jno. Lyon                    60        in our com-
            R. C. Bunn      5          J. R. Logan                  61        pany; but died
            R. H. Bunn      6          W. N. Mitchell            62        some time ago.
W. H. Burnsides         7          Jasper Massey             63
            T. C. Buntin    8          Tom Massey               64
            J. W. Buntin    9          E. T. Mobley               65
            D. B. Buntin    10        O.L.McKinstry                        66
            J. W. Bridges  11        J. S. McGowen                        67
            H. R. Burnell  12        A. W.   “                      68        “Field & Staff”
            R. [?] Brown   13        W. V. Munson            69                    of
                                                J. E. Minshew             70        the 2nd Ala. Vol.
            J. O. Bailey     14        W. H. Martin              71                    or
            J. W. Cotton    15        Joe. Mabry                  72        Magnolia Regement
            G. W. Cotton  16        Jas. Noland                 73                    Colonel
J. R. Cunningham       17        R. R. Nuckols             74                    Harry Maury.
            F. T. Colbert   18        W. H. Perry                 75                    Lieut. Colonel
            J. E. Corder     19        W. W. Richardson      76                    H. W. Bradford
            Jno. Coleman  20        P. T. Richardson         77                    Major
            M. P. Clariton 21        John Richardson         78                    D. P. Forney
            G. H. Cosper   22        Dar. Rogers                 79                    Adjutant
Thos. Campbell          23        Alex. Rogers               80                    F. B. McClung
R. M. Crutchfield       24        J. R. Reid                    81                    Serg’t Major
            J. A. Evans      25        P. W. Scott                  82                    D. Anderson
            J. G. Evans      26        W. C. Story                 83                    Quarter Master
            A. N. Elliott    28        W. J. Spellman           84                    Capt J. Ryan.
            M. L. Gaskin   29        J. G. Sanders               85                    Commissary
            W. N. Goin     30        Wm Thomas                86                    Capt G. Forney
            G. Goodloe     31        Cal Upchurch              87                    Chief of Ordnance
E.V.L. Gregory           32        Burt Upchurch            88                    Lt [?]
            S. J. Goodson  33        E. D. Vance                89
            B. H. Gordon  34        J. F. Williams             90
            A. Gibson        35        R. B. Williams            91
            C. Gibson        36        Robt. Williams           92
                                                J. B. Williams             93
 
 
[inside back cover]
 
Surgeon                                               [?] has been honorably discharg’d
Dr [?]                          Feb 15
Asst Surgeon                                                   J. W. Anderson Surgeon
Dr. J. W. Anderson.
 
 
 
 
My Favorite
“My Willie’s on the Dark Blue Sea!”
“My Willie’s on the dark blue sea,                             Oh! father, save my Willie from
He’s gone far o’er the main;                                       The storm-king’s mighty hand!
And many a day will pass away                                 Chorus   x   x   x   x   x
E’er he’ll come back again!                                       “And as she spoke the [?] ceased,
chorus:                                                                        And hushed was the thunder’s roar;
“Then blow gentle winds o’er the dark blue sea,       And Willie clasped her in his arms
Bid the storm-king stay his hand;                               To roam the sea no more.
And bring my Willie back to me                                Chorus   x   x   x   x   x   “Now blow
To his own dear native land!                                      gentle winds o’er the dark blue sea,
                                                                                    No more we’ll stay thy hand;
“I love my Willie best of all,                                      Since Willie’s safe at home with me,
He e’er was true to me;                                              In his own dear native land!
But lonesome, dreary are the hours                                        “                      “
Since first he went to sea                                            For pleasures past I do not grieve,
Chorus   x   x   x   x   x                                                Nor perils gath’ring near;
There’s danger on the waters now,                             My greatest grief is shal I leave
I hear the Horn-bill cry;                                              Nothing that claims a tear!
And morning voices seem to say,                                                                   (Byron)
From out the cloudy sky;
Chorus   x   x   x   x   x
“I see the vivid lightnings flash,                                 Ruf L. Hughes
And, hark! the thunders roar;                                                 Fort Morgan
                                                                                                            1861.
 
            Magnolia Regement.              2d Ala. Regt
                                                            Capt.   1st Lieut           2nd Lieut            3rd Lt
Company        A – Calhoun Guards   Harris      Snow           Mohon             Privet
            “          B – Lane Guards         Lanier      Best            Wells               Mitchell
            “          C – Claiborne Guards Foster       Scott           Robinson            Gillyard
                        D – Suggsville Grays  Lankford  Portis          Mobley            Aloton
                        E – Franklin Blues      Goodwin  McClung     Cotton             Goodloe
                        F – South Ala. Rifles  Vandebur  Lewis         Gregart            Kinney
                        G – Jackson Avengers Fergus     White         Carr                 Parrott
                        H – [?] Walker Rifles Garrett      Boggs         Labazan            Jarrett
                        I - Mobile Scotch Guards Watson Taylor            Rutherford      Norton
                        K – Jackson Rifles      Saxon       Parks          Hunt                Hooker
2950
DATABASE CONTENT
(2950)DL0630.00157Diaries1862-02-16

Diaries of Private Rufus L. Hughes, 2nd Alabama Volunteers, Magnolia Regiment and 42nd Alabama Infantry


Tags: Alcohol, Animals, Confederate Government, Confederate Nationalism, Courtship, Death (Home Front), Death (Military), Defense of Home, Discharge/Mustering Out, Gender Relations, Literary Quotes, Love, Nature, Religion, Sadness, School/Education, Secession, Siege of Vicksburg, Weather

People - Records: 1

  • (967) [writer] ~ Hughes, Rufus L.

Places - Records: 1

  • (671) [origination] ~ Fort Morgan, Baldwin County, Alabama

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SOURCES

Rufus L. Hughes Diary, DL0630.001, Nau Collection