The Daily state journal. [volume] (Alexandria, Va.) 1868-1874, 1871-11-22

this does not mean that we are dead beat
We must pick our flint and try them again.
In our last we gave an account of the latest
Ku-klux outrage in Danvlle; we are hap
Ply to state that things are Quoted down
generally, and peace smiles once more upon
us--in a subdued light however. On the
night subsequent to the election, we were
awakened out Of sweet sleep by the light
of fire near our domicil, and the yels and
screenings of crowd Of Democrats. We
did not arise from our slumber" to look
out and see what the matter was, but sim
| ply concluded that the Democrats were try
ing to have good time, and keep them
selves warm by having bonfire.
The bright glare of the fire, and their in-
fernal yells, reminded us strongly of some
scenes depicted in Dante's "Hell." Indeed
some of our Democratic friends here would
make first-class imps Of the devil. Give
| them tail and pair of horns, and they
would need no more outfit. BY the cries
of the mob, we concluded they were burn
ing some poor, unfortunate Republican
in effigy. Our surmise proved correct, for
in the morning we were informed that sold
man Lewis" the leading Radical here, and
the Genesis of the darkies; Whitehurst,
''the Knight of the b. b. ST." "Trickyo
Fernald; Carpet-bagger Stowell, Nj. c.;
Young Lewis, the young scalawag, and
Pigeon-toed Lloyd were burnt in ef1igy.
Poor fellows, what an ignominious end
The Democrats were to have torch
light procession the next night, but the ele-
ments were against them. The clouds
wept, doubtless at the sins of Democracy
and the procession was indefinitely post
poned. As we have remarked before, we
are defeated, not by the Democracy,
though they fought us hard; but by our
friends, who fought us harder. We have a
number of Government officials here, and
out of that number only tico voted the
through ticket-they took it straight.
Their names are Lewis and Whitehurst-
as Capt. Cutie, in Dombey K Son, would
say: Make note of that" and "Stick
a pin there, Brother Horace" The Dam
vile Times, in its issue of the 18th, quotes
your correspondent, and endeavors to say
something funny or sarcastic, we do not
know which. If the editor considers it
sarcasm, we would say it is rather an UNI
fortunate specimen, to fall from the pen of
descendant of so great man as John
Randolph, of Roanoke. Mr.. Times you
must really try again.
''Ifat first you don't succeed ETC.
The Times don't want to be ''prizedu by
the JOURNAL, ''as that would damn him
in the estimation of every decent man in
this community" No fear of being
'prized." You are SO small and imperfect
that the JOURNAL can see nothing in you
to prize. The Times wants to know what
kind of a phiz. Jupiter has. SIS he lean,
hungry, worm-eater fellow, with a pale,
mean, downcast countenance ? We sus-
pect who he is, though we do not know"
Speaking of "lean, hungry, worm-eater
fellows" the Times man ought to know
how it is himself, for he is rather hungry
looking Democrat, and appears as if he
could swallow small-sized funding bill,
and possibly would grow fat on it.
Fond Cassius has lean and hungry look;
He thinks too much; such men are dangerous
Would he were fatter.'
He also bears strong resemblance 10
Mayor Hall, of New York (another Demo-
craft, and like A. "Okey," wears Specs
Indeed the Times man is so near-sighted
that he rubs out with his nose half what he
writes with his pencil. This may account
for some of the unfinished sentences and
queer expressions that occasionally occur
in his paper. As to s'mean, down-cast
countenance," that is all bosh, the Tines
editor was simply gazing into looking
glass when he wrote it, and was making
comments on himself.
AS to how we feel, we answer that while
in truth we do not feel as jubilant as ever,
we are far from being downhearted and dis
couraged, and mean in the next canvass to
fight the Democracy harder than ever. We
believe in our principles, and will earnestly
endeavor to maintain them. AT the next
canvass, which will roll around in due time,
we may have to send somebody" to feel
the Tines pulse. We would like to know
how it beats now, when he thinks of New
York and Mississippi. Yours,
JUPITER.