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Cooke, John Esten, 1830-1886

"Mohun, or, the Last Days of Lee"

The warehouses and bridges had been fired in anticipation of the
approach of the enemy.
It behooved me to depart now, unless I wished to be captured. I had
taken the precaution to provide myself with a horse from one of the
government stables; the animal stood ready saddled behind the house; I
bade my alarmed friends farewell, and mounting, rode through the
streets of the devoted city toward the Capitol, amid bursting shell
from the arsenal, exploding magazines, and roaring flames.
I can not describe the scenes which followed. They were terrible and
would present a fit subject for the brush of Rembrandt. Fancy crowds of
desperate characters breaking into the shops and magazines of
stores--negroes, outcasts, malefactors, swarming in the streets, and
shouting amid the carnival. The state prison had disgorged its
convicts--the slums and subterranean recesses of the city its birds of
the night--and now, felons and malefactors, robbers, cut-purses and
murderers held their riotous and drunken carnival in the streets,
flowing with whiskey. Over all surged the flames, roaring, crackling,
tumultuous--the black clouds of smoke drifting far away, under the blue
skies of spring.
Then from the Capitol hill, where I had taken my stand, I saw by the
early light, a spectacle even more terrible--that of the enemy entering
the city.


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