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geniously concentrated and crowded into one paragraph—pretty long, to be sure, but in a very elegant and moral tone nevertheless. Its author has evidently read the Ten Commandments, however much he may pervert their spirit. It commences with an onslaught on the “eight-hour” men who are now with a manly dignity demanding their rights in Louisiana, and after covering a great deal of ground, winds up with a wicked provision about a pretended “common fund” into which all funds are to be placed, to be divided among the laborers. Considerable advancement in morals is shown in the refreshing provision that “swearing” in the presence of the employer shall be deemed “disobedience.” Judgments under this section are to be entered by the employer, but if not satisfactory to the freedman “an appeal may be had to the nearest Justice of the Peace and two freeholders, citizens, one of said citizens to be selected by the employer and the other by the laborer.” How grateful the freedman must be for this right of appeal from the decisions of his adversary? The Justice of the Peace, elected by the votes and influence of the employer, together with a freeholder selected by the same party, are to meet another freeholder named by the colored man, and exercise appellate jurisdiction over the decisions of the planter. This is called “fair play!” The homely story of the Indian, who said “You don’t say turkey once to me,” will serve as an illustration in this case.
The second act—“To prohibit the carrying of fire-arms on premises or plantations of any citizen, without the consent of the owner”—is intended to disarm the negroes, even those who have fought in our country’s cause, and is clearly contrary to that constitutional provision which declares that “the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed.”
The third act—“To prevent trespassing”—is intended to prevent freedmen from leaving the plantations on which they are employed, and from visiting each other; and to prevent white Union men, even ministers, from seeing or conversing with them.
The fourth act makes an important change in the vagrant law of Louisiana. It allows a Justice of the Peace, by demanding any sort of a bond for good behavior, in such an amount and with such sureties as he may choose, which it would be impossible for the freedman to procure, to “ hire out” the latter for one year to a planter, or “cause him to labor on the public works, roads, and levees.” You will see that under what the pro-slavery oligarchy would call a “judicious administration” of this law, slavery is practically enforced.
The fifth act—“To provide for the punishment of persons for tampering with, persuading, or enticing away, harboring, feeding, or secreting laborers, servants, or apprentices”—is a new dress to an old law for the punishment of Abolitionists. The words “slaves” and “owners” are done away with, and other words, less harsh to the humane ear, are substituted.
The sixth act—“relative to apprentices and indentured servants”—makes it the duty of public officers to report “all persons under the age of eighteen years if females, and twenty-one if males,” of certain conditions, “coming within the purview and meaning of this act,” so that some petty officer of the parish can “apprentice” them. In all cases when the age of the minor cannot be ascertained by “record testimony,” the petty officer “shall fix the age, according to the best evidence before him.” If a good lawyer like yourself had drawn up this act, the words “testimony” and “evidence” would probably have exchanged places. But it is evidently the work of an employer.
