I preach patience; but how about practice? I am exasperated!
there is the simple fact. And is it not enough? What a scene I have just
witnessed! A motley crew of thousands of low people of all colors parading the
streets with flags, torches, music, and all other accompaniments, shouting,
screaming, exulting over the fall of Port Hudson and Vicksburg. The “Era” will
call it an enthusiastic demonstration of the loyal citizens of the city; we who
saw it from upper balconies know of what rank these “citizens” were. We saw
crowds of soldiers mixed up with the lowest rabble in the town, workingmen in
dirty clothes, newsboys, ragged children, negroes, and even women walking
in the procession, while swarms of negroes and low white women elbowed each
other in a dense mass on the pavement. To see such creatures exulting over our
misfortune was enough to make one scream with rage. One of their dozen transparencies
was inscribed with “A dead Confederacy.” Fools! The flames are smouldering!
They will burst out presently and consume you! More than half, much more, were
negroes. As they passed here they raised a yell of “Down with the rebels!” that
made us gnash our teeth in silence. The Devil possessed me. “O Miriam, help me
pray the dear Lord that their flag may burn!” I whispered as the torches danced
around it. And we did pray earnestly—so earnestly that Miriam's eyes were
tightly screwed up; but it must have been a wicked prayer, for it was not
answered.
Dr. S––– has out a magnificent display of black cotton
grammatically inscribed with “Port Hudson and Vicksburg is ours,”
garnished with a luminous row of tapers, and, drunk on two bits' worth of lager
beer, he has been shrieking out all Union songs he can think of with his horrid
children until my tympanum is perfectly cracked. Miriam wants to offer him an
extra bottle of lager for the two places of which he claims the monopoly. He would
sell his creed for less. Miriam is dying to ask him what he has done with the
Confederate uniform he sported before the Yankees came. His son says they are
all Union men over there, and will “lemonate” (illuminate) to-night. A starving
seamstress opposite has stuck six tallow candles in her window; better put them
in her stomach!
And I won't believe Vicksburg has surrendered! Port Hudson I
am sure has fallen. Alas, for all hopes of serving the brave creatures! the
rumor is that they have been released on parole. Happily for them; but if it must
go, what a blessed privilege it would have been to aid or comfort them!
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