"in a lone corner of that resting-place" a solitary grave with its
veil of "long, sad grass" and, parting the mass of white roses that
hid the stone, beheld the name he had given the girl from whom he had
parted on that mid-May night.

"ULLAINEE."

Those who were nearest him thought that the vein of sadness winding
through his life and his poetry was in memory of the girl who loved
and sacrificed and died. When they marvelled over the mournful minor
tones in his melodious verse he made answer:

Go stand on the beach of the blue boundless deep,
When the night stars are gleaming on high,
And hear how the billows are moaning in sleep,
On the low-lying strand by the surge-beaten steep,
They're moaning forever wherever they sweep.
Ask them what ails them: they never reply;
They moan on, so sadly, but will not tell you why!
Why does your poetry sound like a sigh?
The waves will not answer you; neither shall I.

At the beginning of the war Father Ryan was appointed a chaplain in
the Army of Northern Virginia, but often served as a soldier. He was
in New Orleans in 1862 when an epidemic broke out, and devoted himself
to the care of the victims. Having been accused of refusing to bury a
Federal he was escorted by a file of soldiers into the presence of
General Butler, who accosted him with great sternness:

"I am told that you refused to bury a dead soldier because he was a