The Louisiana Democrat. [volume] (Alexandria, La.) 1845-1918, 1866-03-28
A Daniel Come to Judgment Yea,
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The civil war in America is ended, and
the banner of the bars that waved over
Jackson and cleaned upon the track of
Stuart's reckless riders, has been put away
as men hide the trinkets Of dead, dead
love. I-
Although the blood of virginias best
and bravest is not yet dry in the valleys,
nor has the grass grown over the prema-
ture graves of the manly Confederates who
fell before Petersburg, yet Mr.. f. A. Poll
ard, a pretty writer and talented editor,
in long newspaper article, denounces ex-
president Davis, Generals Lee, Johnston,
and Beanregard, and says "the Southern
people disgraced themselves forever when
they refused to fight to determination
that they lack courage and endurance
craftsmanship and intelligence" He crit
icises campaigns, ridicules strategical
movements, sneers at retreats, and laughs
at every heroic effort of the brave men
who have left to history an immortal
name.
Who is MIR. E. A. Pollard7 He is a yir.
ginian, the editor of the Richmond Exami-
ner, and the author of the Southern His
tory of the war" We have grief for the
first bushes for the second, and contempt
for the last
During all those years of carnage and of
blood, this Richmond Examiner was an in
satiate tiend of opposition and hatred.
Step by step it broke down the brave, fond
heart of Sidney Johnson; again and again
it lacerated and gored the sensitive soul of
Beauregard; week after week it denounced
the heroic efforts of Joseph L. Johnston;
and now, when Jefferson Davis is chained
amid the waves of his rock-ribbed prison,
it tries to stab his reputation and his
honor.
1t is not often that men like Pollard and
Jordan can gloat over the agony of such a
spirit and the degradation Of such a name.
1t is not often that such noble bosom as
Lees is laid bare for the thrust of every
rutfian's spear or the dagger of every cow
ards hand. 1t is not often that desola.
ted nation writes under, the blows of it's
children and the cruelties of it's own off
spring. 1t is not often that the world fur
nishes human hyenas to exhume the bodies
of her sainted dead, and howl in horrid de-
light over the revolving feast.
Pollard wanted determination, but he
was in New York city, hob.nobbing with
Greeley, and telling the pleasant, story in
his pleasant way of the four years war.
He wanted fifty thousand men to fight
million to the death, but he never fell in
beside them and proffered to share CON-
mon fate. Like Jobs war-horse he snuff.
ed the battle from afar! Shoddy is cheap,
and humbug is cheap, and Henry Ward
Beechers patent sermons are cheap; but
sincerity, faith, honor, chivalry, manhood,
oh! how pure and unpopular.
Pollards mother State lies prostrate in
the dust, her hearth-stones desolate and
her idols shattered. All over the land he
can see her bereaved daughters weeping
for the young, fresh faces that looked back
to them from the heat and yellow dust of
the conflict just before the horses hoofs
trod them down. He can almost hear the
breezes from the Wilderness singing their
melancholy dirges over Stuart, and Ashby,
and Pelham, and Hill, and jackson, dear
to God. He has no love, nor veneration,
nor tenderness, nor pity for any Of these
but tearing open the graves of the immor-
tai dead, he blends them with the living
in one sacrilegious anathema Of contempt
uous hatred.
Drape the picture Of nation in its ago
ny, and cover it's laurels with the mourn.
ing cypress. Fnrl the conquered banner
with a farewell look, and shrine it's memo
ry in our heart of hearts; but to the brutal
hardihood of those who curse and villify
ruined race, give vengeance, scorn, and
never dying contempt.
History tells us how Coriolanus halted
his victorious legions beyond the yellow
Tiber, but that Nero fiddled a goddess time
while Rome was burning Amid the graves
of his kindred, the anguish and despair of
brave men in their crushing overthrow,
amid the blue skies and green fields of his
navity, L. A. Pollard dips his pen in the
gall OF New England hate and writes the
record Of his own. everlasting infamy and
disgrace Mexican Times
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THE CHILD OF SToNEwALL JACKSON
A fair writer, in the Richmond Examiner,
speaks as follows of the only child of the
deceased hero:
had recently the pleasure of seeking the
child OF Stonewall Jackson. She is bright
little chernb, about three years old, with
fair hair, blue eyes, and complexion of
mingled lilies and roses-the lilies, howev-
en- neutrality-suspicious. perhaps, she
does not look very robust. For the benefit
Of curious mothers, will describe her dress
She wore Marie Louisa blue merino, trim
1nI will l. l.
edged with white. Her little cloth cloak
was of a light drap color, ornamented with
bands Of silk and fancy buttons. Her hat
was OF English straw, trimmed with blue
velvet and blue and white feathers. A
trippet and mutf of ermine completed the
costume of the little fairy, and she looked
as enchanting as any mothers darling need
look. She was borne in the arms of a COL
Ored nurse, of whom she seemed very fond,
and to whom she was prating with exuber-
ant gaity. The dark-eyed, sad looking la
dy who followed her, in widows cap and
garb of deepest mourning, completed the
picture of sunshine and shadow.
70 It would seem from the following
extract, taken from Che n Y Price-Current
and Commercial List, that there are cotton
thieves elsewhere than in the South. Who
would have thought it? FT ii
We understand that the New Orleans
shippers hesitate about sending cotton to
this market, owing to the high charges
current here for carriage, storage and insur-
ance, and owing to the loss resulting from
theft. In several instances within our