To arms! The Confederates are coming! The Confederates are coming!
Union scouts have already discovered Robert E. Lee at the gates of the city, lining up the gallant Pelham’s artillery to fire the opening round, and Stonewall Jackson and Jeb Stuart are expected to arrive on a night train from the Shenandoah Valley.
Not since First Manassas, when the Yankees fled the battlefield in blind panic, after taking a licking in the first battle of the Cruel War of Northern Aggression, has the Capital quailed in such fear and trembling.
This time it’s only an army of marble, but marble men are apparently enough against a foe of the weak and the weary of combat. Cities, counties and states across the nation have been taking down Southern statuary for days — brave Baltimore waited for the cover of night to do the deed — all in hopes of being spared the wrath of the regiments of bronze and marble regiments. Californians scoured graveyards for evidence of insurrection and finally found something in Hollywood, of all places.
These were the graves of dead Confederates exiled from formerly Confederate states from Virginia to Texas who repaired to the balm of mild and gentle California to live out their final days, only to die forgotten in an alien land. The searchers found a plaque, overgrown with moss and soil, identifying those who sleep there. The plaque, though not a trophy as valuable as statuary of Lee or Jackson, was nevertheless removed as a prize of combat with the dead. The Los Angeles Times reports that “the bodies will not be disinterred.”
Well, not now, anyway. Maybe next week, when the remains can be properly flogged and assigned to the city dump.
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