Interview with Stonewall Jackson.
Stonewall Jackson, while a prisoner at his camp, and of my sojourn at Libby Prison in Richmond. A few  days after my capture, I was sent to Jackson's camp, at Nineveh, Warren County, Va. I reached there Tuesday, November eleventh, in company with four others. Gen. Jackson came out of his tent just as we were leaving for the guard-house, (an old church near by,) and desired us to wait a few minutes, as he would like to ask us a few questions. “When were you taken?” he inquired. “November seventh,” I replied. “Have you any New-York papers with you?” he asked. I replied that we had not, but told him I had read the Herald of the fifth, which had reached camp on the day of my capture. “Ah! Did you?” said he. “I wanted to inquire about the recent elections. Do you know what majority Seymour received?” “Between ten and fifteen thousand,” I replied. “Do you know how many Congressmen the Democrats elected in the State?” I answered that it was believed they had elected nineteen out of the thirty-one. “Were the woods both elected?” I answered that they were, and that all of the city and river districts were claimed as Democratic. “Good!” he replied. “New-York City will have more to say in the next session of Congress than all the rest of the State.” “Their constituents would hardly feel flattered to hear you,” I said. “Any man who sincerely desires peace,” he said, “should certainly rejoice at their election. If you had such men in power at Washington, to-day, there would be no more bloodshed, and we could easily come to an honorable settlement.” I did not dispute that, nor ask him what he would call an honorable settlement. Desiring to continue the conversation, I agreed with him. “But they all claimed to be war Democrats,” I continued, “and in favor of a more ‘vigorous prosecution of the war.’ Was that a mere political dodge? Your soldiers would hardly cheer the announcement of the election of War Democrats, I should think.” “Oh! No!” he replied. “They are in favor of prosecuting the war with more vigor. They think that if we are to be conquered, it should be done at once, before spring. If we are not subjugated by that time, they will demand a peace, and force your Government to stop the war. We know we can hold out, and when the next Congress meets, they will all be found to be peace men, and willing to recognize our independence, in preference to a bloody and endless war. When once convinced that they cannot conquer us by merely gaining one or two battles, they will cease to be War Democrats. It is because we know them to be more reasonable than the Republicans, that my men cheered the news of Seymour's election. But what other news was there?” “New-Jersey,” I answered, “has gone strongly Democratic, and the party has gained in Ohio.” “Yes,” said the General. “I heard that they had carried Ohio. Did you notice whether Vallandigham was reelected or not?” “He was defeated,” I answered; “but another friend of yours in the West, was returned.” “Who was it?” he inquired. “Voorhees!” “A good Democrat,” he said. “Vallandigham was too outspoken at first; he would have been reelected if he had been more moderate.” The General was here interrupted, and as he turned to leave, he asked if any of us had any “green-backs” we would like to exchange for confederate paper! We remained there two days, with the “Jackson foot cavalry,” a brigade of Irish soldiers. Those with whom I conversed, said they would give almost any thing to be back at the North, but as they were in Virginia when the war broke out, there was nothing else to do but join the army. We were paraded on the thirteenth, and the next morning started for Winchester. From there, we walked to Staunton, in five days, a distance of ninety-two miles, and thence by cars to Richmond and Libby Prison. As we were paroled, we had more liberty than the rest of the party. (There were eighty-four of us, and only five paroled.) Instead of staying with the rest nights, we would put up at hotels, and report to the Provost in the morning, and join our party. Two or three times we staid over a day or two, and went on with the next lot. At one place, which it would be unwise to mention, we found some negroes who asked us if we were Yankees. On assuring them we were, and speaking a few kind words, they asked us to follow them, at a distance, to a room of theirs. We had not been there long, before several joined them, each speaking some word through the key-hole, without which they would get no reply from those within. They asked us innumerable questions about the North, the Administration, and the prospects of the war, which we answered to the best of our knowledge. They told us that they were organized into secret societies throughout the South, and were patiently waiting for an “opportunity” to render the President's expected Proclamation of Freedom their aid. Several present were men whom their masters trusted in important transactions, and many assured me that their masters could hardly be convinced that they would do aught against the “institution,” but placed the most implicit confidence in them. They appeared to be well posted in public affairs, and confident that the “Confederacy” was on its last legs, as they said the people everywhere were grumbling, and complaining of hard times, and praying for peace. One compared the “Confederacy” to a closet-door in the room, which hung on only one hinge, and that cracked! In Libby, we were placed in a large room, about one hundred and twenty-five by fifty feet. The room was entirely destitute of every thing, save one bench capable of holding five. We had one hundred and forty-five in the room, and not twenty-five had blankets. The windows were all open, not one pane of glass being left. We had a fire-place at one end of the room, but the fortunate few who got around it, would shut off the heat from reaching the unlucky mortals outside the ring. I remained there twelve days, and at no time did I get more than two hours sleep, but I would wake up shivering, and walk the floor to get warm. Every crack in the floor appeared to be swarming with vermin, and none of us could say we were free from them. We had two meals a day-at eight A. M., and five P. M.; at each meal, a half loaf of bread and a cup of weak soup, and meat twice a week. But few had cups, and those who had none, had to go without the pleasure of drinking cold soup, which had never heard of such an article as salt. On leaving the prison, those who had blankets were obliged to leave them, but all were glad to leave at any cost. When next I meet them, I hope it will be with rifle in hand, and with a victorious army. I remain, yours truly,
D. D. L.
--N. Y. Tribune.