V - - . ' no i ? - M B " - -1 - ii wfmmtaam^ ? voi.pmbxxiv. 1 s~a^in.s. 0.. f&paym&bwngtliiichmsw. number 36. J. T HERSHMAN?EditorHates for Advertising: Kor one Square?ten lines or less?ONE DOLLAR and FIFTY CENTS for the first s insertion and ONE DOLLAR for each subt sequent. Obituary Noi-ofs, exceeding one square charged at advertising rates. Trannsient Advertisements and Job Work MUST BE PAID FOR IN APYV A NCR. No .deduction made, except to our regular wdverlshir patrons. Terms of subscriplion for one year iJk-l.'K) in advance; if not paid wiiliin three months from the time of subscribing, $4,00. HMerrvg??ia?wmmmm????? [FKOiTTlIE CIJARLRSTOX DAILY NEWS.] A FEEBLE TRIBUTE TO THE MEMORY OF OUR HONOR. / 5ED GEN STEPHEN ELLIOTT. BY MRS. C A. BALI.. Not where the war-steed thundered o'er the r plain; Not where the aarth drank in the blood of my rinds slain ; Not 'mid the cannon's roar, the trumpet's clang; Not where, 'mid flashing steel, the Southern war cry rang; Not there, our hero died. Gently and peacefully lie sank to rest, "While loved ones in the parting hour around him prost. Afar fiom all the scenes of earthly strife, Calmly the Christian hero yielded up his life, A ltd passed from hence Rjvny. His epitaph is graved on each true heart, His menu vy is of each Southern soul a part, I Ilis own loved Carolinn mourns her son, And crowned with glory, by his valor won, | "Weeps o'er her hero, dead. I And never, while the walls of Sumter stand, Shall we forget him, who with liis brave hand By day and night (our country's hope and stay), Gnarded the city's gates, aDd kept the foe at bay, Our warr ior, now dead No more the battle cry rings through our land; Cru-hed is each Southern heart, and powerless each hand; Yet while one pulse can thrill to deeds^f f.hie, "A household word" will be brave Elliott's name, ^ And ever honored dead Weep, C.roiiua, weep. tWonpli tears are vain. Our stir has set, never ro rise again : j Yot amiil grief rejoice, for he wc mourn lias jius-cd from hence unto that bicssed bourne, i "Where there is no more death, j ClIAKl.ESTOX, March C. BillArp Returns to the Eternal City and Meets his Friend Big J ohn. M? Edilur Melerpolilan liclcord : Mit. EDiTiTt, Suit: I hav not up to litis tune made any remarks in publik about the trials and tribulations, the losses and the crosses, the buzzards and tied hoses seen 011 our journey home to the eternal sitty. I shall not nllood to it now, only to remark that our eomin l.!>r*k worn not so hnstv as our leavin. It was in tlic dead of winter, through ; snow and sleet, over creeks without bridges and bridges without floors, Ihrough a deserted and desolate land, where no rooster was left to crow, no , pig to squeal, no dog to baric; where the ruins of happy homes adorned the ?. way, and ghostly chimneys stood up like Sherman's sentinels a guard in the ruins he had made. A little one lioss consern contained the higlith of my worldly possession, consistin of ray numerous and lovely wife and children, and a shuck basket full of some second class vittels. Countin our offspring, there was about ten of us in and about and around that wngin, thus illustratin what the poet has sed: "One glorious hour of crowded life is worth an age without a name," though the glory were hard to persevo on sich okkashuns. Mrs. Arp are of the opinyun that her posterity were never as hungry before ! in their life as on that distressin journey, and she once remarked that there want nary rod of the road that dident hear some of em a hollerin for vittels. My wife's husband is troobled bekaus they aint broke of it yet, and it do ihni 1AWMI T /vi4- A rrt ava * btjuj-u uiai i