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Valley of the Shadow

Valley Virginian: November 20, 1867

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-Page 01-

-Page 02-

Let Us Counsel Together
(Column 02)
Summary: This editor urges the white men of Augusta County to gather on Court Day for a Conservative mass meeting aimed at selecting delegates for the convention. The recent elections have shown that a "line has been clearly drawn" between whites and blacks, and only white unity will defeat rule by "mean whites and negroes."
Full Text of Article:

A mighty responsibility now rests upon the people of Virginia. The accumulated honors; the glorious records of a past, unsullied by ignoble acts, and the hopes of a posterity born of such a race, rests upon our shoulders. It is a fearful responsibility, surrounded, as we are, by perils such as a people, once free, were never called upon to meet and overcome. It is useless to particularize as to our troubles. They are patent to every thinking white man, and he must see that our only hope is in concert of action, and the thorough organization of our people.

While we believe the white people of this State can control it, we feel that we are utterly powerless without organization. The late election has taught us that, and we cannot too earnestly urge upon our people the necessity of turning out on Monday next, (Court Day,) the day selected for the Conservative Mass Meeting to nominate delegates to the Convention, to be held in Richmond, Dec. 11th. The best talent, and the influence of Conservative Old Augusta will be needed in that Convention, and our people, the working masses, should let nothing keep them from attending. "Let us counsel together," and organize thoroughly for the coming contest with Radicalism--that accursed combination of "mean whites" and negroes--which threatens to overrun our once proud Old Dominion.

The line has been clearly drawn between white men and negroes, after all our efforts to promote harmony and peace. There is no middle course left; it is, are you "white or black?" Therefore, we appeal to the people of Augusta to rally, as one man, and organize "He who dallies is a dastard--he who doubts is damned."

The Object of the Radical Party
(Column 02)
Summary: This editorial argues that the Radical Republicans never intended to smoothly reunite the country. Instead they seek to hold on to power by receiving a majority of southern votes engineered through legislation.
The Whole Question
(Column 02)
Summary: The paper declares that those who were for acceptance of the Military Bill are now against it, since it has become clear that the Republicans never intended to give southern whites a fair shot at returning to the Union and regaining power within their own states.
[No Title]
(Column 02)
Summary: The New York Tribune warns Virginia's black voters that unless "a greater division of all the white vote can be effected," the new state constitution is likely to be rejected. There are 116,982 registered white voters in Virginia, of whom 76,684 voted, while there are 104,772 black voters, of whom 92,155 voted. Of the white voters, 61,249 voted against the convention, and only 14,885 voted for it.

-Page 03-

[No Title]
(Column 01)
Summary: 70 houses have been built in Staunton over the last year, and the demand has not slackened.
(Column 03)
Summary: John F. Beard, of Staunton, and Miss Emma T. Grabbin, of Richmond, were married in Richmond on November 14th by the Rev. Mr. Burrows.
(Names in announcement: John F. Beard, Emma T. Grabbin, Rev. Burrows)

-Page 04-

(Column 01)
Summary: The paper prints a poem honoring Jeb Stuart.
Full Text of Article:

The following Ballad was published sometime during the year 1862 in one of the first numbers of the Richmond Illustrated News, then a paper of small circulation. We reproduce it now with the belief that the piece will be perfectly original to the great majority of our readers.

A cup of potent "mountain dew,"
By the camp-fire's ruddy light;
Let us drink to a spirit as real and true,
As ever drew blade in fight;
And dashed on the Tyrant's lines of steel,
For God and his People's right!

By Heavens! It seems that his very name
Embodies a thought of fire;
It strikes on the ear with a sense of flame,
And the life blood boundeth higher,
While the pulses leap and the brain expands,
In the glow of grand desire.

Hark! In the day dawn's misty gray,
Our bugles are ringing loud,
And not for the bliss of the coming fray,
On the war-steeds, fierce and proud,
We list for the word that shall launch us forth
Like bolts from the mountain cloud.

We list the word! and it comes at length
In strains so mighty and clear,
That we rise to the sound with an added strength
And our souls grow glad to hear,
And a stir, like the breath of a boiling storm,
Thrills thro' us from van to rear.

Then with the rush of the whirlwind freed,
We rush by a secret way,
And merry on sabre, helmet and steed,
Do the Autumn sunbeams play.
And the Devil must sharpen his keenest wits,
To rescue "his own" to-day.

Ho! ye who dwell in fertile vales,
In the pleasant land of Penn,
Who feast on the fat of her fruitful dales,
How little ye dream or ken,
That the Southern Murat has bared his hand
That Stuart rides again.

Close up! close up! we have traveled long,
But a jolly night's in store;
A night of wassail, and wit, and song,
In yon Yankee town before!
Quick, Sergeant, spur to the front in haste,
And knock at the Mayor's door."

Behold, he comes with a ghost-like grace,
And his knee joints out of tune,
And the cold, cold sweat runs down his face,
In the light of the Autumn moon,
While his palsied tongue like an ancient Crone,
But mutters a hollow groan.

He cannot speak but his buxom dame,
With her trembling daughter nigh,
Shrieks out, "O! honor their virgin fame!
Pass the poor maiden by."
(Whereon, with grievous heave and sob,
She paused in her speech--to cry.)

Rise up! we leave to the cherished brood,
Our vengeance is seeking now,
The fame which springs from the brutal mood,
That crimsons a woman's brow;
For sons are we of a courtly race,
And bound by a knightly vow--

Rise! we war with the strong alone!
For where was the caitiff found,
To sport with an outraged woman's moan,
Where the Southern trumpets sound?
Tho the blood of the martyred fair makes red,
The wastes of the Southern ground!

Enough, while I speak of the Past, my lad,
There's coming--(hush, lean thee near!)
There's coming a raid that shall drive them mad,
And cover their land with fear!
And you and I by the blessing of God,
Aye, you and I shall be there!"