The daily dispatch. [volume] (Richmond [Va.]) 1850-1884, 1869-01-02

article.
The paper appeared on Saturday morn
ing, and the sensation it produced was very
apparent but the day passed without any
intimation from any member or friend Of
the Grant family that they would seek repa-
ration in any manner, or avail themselves
of the columns Of the Opinion as medium
Of correction. ta'E r s.sr
Saturday Mr.. Pollard remained in his
Office all day, purposely, as he said, to re-
ceive any gentleman that might call as the
spokesman of tho Grant party. Unexpect-
edly to him, he was waited upon the after
noon Of that day, by several gentlemen
parties to an entirely different afair-who
felt themselves agrieyed by another article
in the same number Of the Opinion. This
interview was stormy one, but it was
finally adjourned to the next Monday, when
it was amicably settled with all, save one of
the parties. He (h1r. Polard) had deter
mined to chsllenge the next morning but
before even the note was penned, 81. Rives
Pollard had fallen by the, hand Of an un-
seen foe. f.aet,a,s a5sg -
We also clip the following from Mr..
Hanna's account of the last hours of the
deceased: IS
j ,At about q quarter to 9,o'oloek the gehi-
Gle was announced as ready to carry us into
the city and the Office of the Opinion. The
presentiment Of trouble yet strong on my
mind, / said to Mr.. Pollard, "Suppose you
do not go into town to-day; I can supply
the printers "No," he answered, 81
must 90 in; besides, must See that man
to-day" If man hath each good guar
dian angel to walk with him, protecting
and def .nding from death that turks un-
seen, and dangers that encompass mortals
around, at that moment the good angel of
H. Rives Pollard deserted him--turned
away, and resigned the victim to the fate
that waited hidden before him. From that
moment Deaths seal was upon him. he
had even then passed the boundary Of life,
and was entering the shadow of death-ap-
preaching the sunset Of existence. se5agss-7
That ride was not more eventful than
many other rides we had taken together.
Mr.. Pollard sat on the front seat with Mr..
Redford, the driver I behind him. OF
conversation, save casual remarks, there
was none until the vehicle had passed into
the city, on Main street. We passed the
residence of Rev. DR.. Hoge, and I observed
that there was Grape ON the door. "Who
is dead % inquired Mr.. Pollard "Not
DR.. Hoge, I hope" He had been i'll, but
was then convalescent.) Mr.. Redf9rd said
the party deceased was female member
Of the family, which appeared to relieve
greatly the sudden anxiety of Mr.. Pol
lard. Among the few of those for whom he
expressed admiratins he numbered DR..
Hoge, and his estimation of his personal
character as man and reputation as q
minister was Of the most exalted kind. He
had preached the funeral sermon of the
late John NJ. Daniel (editor Of the Rich
mond E1ana;ner) in 1865, and Mr.. Pollard,
seeming to recall this incident, said in tones
more solemn than was his wont, Il have
always said that when l die-as shall,
probably, some day-I want DR.. Hoge to
preach my funeral sermon. l think he is
one of the best Christians and most elo-
quent preachers that ever lived" I had
heard him express such sentiments before,
and go made an affirmative answer to his
remarks.
On down Main street; past the Spots
wood; we drew swiftly towards the spot
where death lay in wait watching for the
coming of the victim.
Sitting behind him, j noticed that Mr..
Pollard bowed occasionally to persons on
the street. Once, after a salute, he turned
to me and said There goes man who |
know hates me-" /
On we were driyen-one Of us to death.
The assassin's eye, peering from the cur
tanned window, is already fastened upon
its mark, coming higher and higher,
charmed within the circle Of death. We
alight-Mr. Pollard first; / after him..
One eye Of the garreted assassin is
closing, the other glances along the charged
barrel; his forefnger presses the deadly
trigger. Providence separates us by lit
tie time and space-a moment-a few feet.
Another second, there is fash, crack
sharp and sudden, q splash Of buckshot
against the brick wall, and Fl. Rives Pol
lard lies dead, stretched OF my feet.