North Louisiana, when freed by Richard Taylor, one of her sons, from the invader's chains, stood erect among her children. The shackles had fallen from the once stately limbs, now withered by their rust. In her chair of state sat Henry Watkins Allen, a Paladin who had won spurs of gold; a citizen spotless in chivalry; a veteran weak in body, yet counting it all glory to suffer for his State. No Confederate State, it seems to the author, had better war-governors than Louisiana had from 1861-65. One, Thomas Overton Moore, had stood at her cradle; the other waited sorrowing at her coffin. To the end Allen, a maimed figure of valor, watched the shell reverently lest stranger hands profane the corpse.
