There was something grim and lugubrious in the smile which accompanied the painfully uttered words. A long silence followed them, which was broken by neither of us. At last I raised my head, and said:—
“I find you less hopeful than last summer. At that time you were in good spirits, and the tone of the Examiner was buoyant.”
“It is hopeful still,” he replied, “but by an effort—from a sentiment of duty. I often write far more cheerfully than I feel, colonel."{1}
{Footnote 1: His words.}
“Your views have changed, I perceive—but you change with the whole country.”
“Yes. A whole century has passed since last August, when you visited me here. One by one, we have lost all that the country could depend on—hope goes last. For myself, I began to doubt when Jackson fell at Chancellorsville, and I have been doubting, more or less, ever since. He was a dominant man, colonel, fit, if any thing happened, to rise to the head of affairs.{1} Oh! for an hour of Jackson! Oh! for a day of our dead Dundee!”{2}
{Footnote 1: His words.}
{Footnote 2: His words.}
The face of the speaker glowed, and I shall never forget the flash of his dark eye, as he uttered the words, “if any thing happened.” There was a whole volume of menace to President Davis in those words.
“But this is useless!” he went on; “Jackson is dead, and there is none to take his place. So, without leaders, with every sort of incompetence, with obstinacy and stupidity directing the public councils, and shaping the acts of the administration, we are gliding straight into the gulf of destruction.”