Soon after crossing, a good silver-plated table-spoon, bearing the monogram of one of the travelers, purchased from an aged colored woman a large chunk of ash-cake and about half a gallon of buttermilk. This old darkey had lived in Richmond in her younger days. She spoke of grown men and women there as "children whar I raised." "Lord! boss, does you know Miss Sadie? Well, I nussed her and I nussed all uv them chillun; that I did, sah! Yawl chillun does look hawngry, that you does. Well, you's welcome to them vittles, and I'm powful glad to git dis spoon. God bless you, honey!" A big log on the roadside furnished a seat for the comfortable consumption of the before-mentioned ash-cake and milk. The feast was hardly begun when the tramp of a horse's hoofs was heard. Looking up the survivors saw, with surprise, General Lee approaching. He was entirely alone, and rode slowly along. Unconscious that any one saw him, he was yet erect, dignified, and apparently as calm and peaceful as the fields and woods around him. Having caught sight of the occupants of the log, he kept his eyes fixed on them, and as he passed, turned slightly, saluted, and said, in the most gentle manner: "Good morning, gentlemen; taking your breakfast?" The soldiers had only time to rise, salute, and say "Yes, sir!" and he was gone.
Having finished as far as they were able the abundant meal furnished by the liberality of the good "old mammy," the travelers resumed their journey greatly refreshed.
It seems that General Lee pursued the road which the survivors chose, and, starting later than they, overtook them, he being mounted and they on foot. At any rate, it was their good fortune to see him three times between Appomattox and Richmond. The incidents introducing General Lee are peculiarly interesting, and while the writer is in doubt as to the day on which the next and last incident occurred, the reader may rest assured of the truthfulness of the narration.
GOOD MORNING, GENTLEMEN.
About the time when men who have eaten a hearty breakfast become again hungry—as good fortune would have it happen—the travellers reached a house pleasantly situated, and a comfortable place withal. Approaching the house they were met by an exceedingly kind, energetic, and hospitable woman. She promptly asked, "You are not deserters?" "No," said the soldiers, "we have our paroles. We are from Richmond; we are homeward bound, and called to ask if you could spare us a dinner?" "Spare you a dinner? certainly I can. My husband is a miller; his mill is right across the road there, down the hill, and I have been cooking all day for the poor starving men. Take a seat on the porch there and I will get you something to eat." By the time the travelers were seated, this admirable woman was in the kitchen at work. The "pat-a-pat, pat, pat, pat, pat-a-pat-a-pat" of the sifter, and the cracking and "fizzing" of the fat bacon as it fried, saluted their hungry ears, and the delicious smell tickled their olfactory nerves most delightfully. Sitting thus, entertained by delightful sounds, breathing the fragrant air, and wrapped in meditation,—or anticipation rather,—the soldiers saw the dust rise in the air, and heard the sound of an approaching party.
Several horsemen rode up to the road-gate, threw their bridles over the posts or tied to the overhanging boughs, and dismounted. They were evidently officers, well dressed, fine looking men, and about to enter the gate. Almost at once the men on the porch recognized General Lee and his son. An ambulance had arrived at the gate also. Without delay the party entered and approached the house, General Lee preceding the others. Satisfied that it was the General's intention to enter the house, the two "brave survivors" instinctively and respectfully, venerating the approaching man, determined to give him and his companions the porch. As they were executing a rather rapid and undignified flank movement to gain the right and rear of the house, the voice of General Lee overhauled them, thus: "Where are you men going?" "This lady has offered to give us a dinner, and we are waiting for it," replied the soldiers. "Well, you had better move on now—this gentleman will have quite a large party on him to-day," said the General. The soldiers touched their caps, said "Yes, sir," and retired, somewhat hurt, to a strong position on a hencoop in the rear of the house. The party then settled on the porch.
The General had, of course, no authority, and the surrender of the porch was purely respectful. Knowing this the soldiers were at first hurt, but a moment's reflection satisfied them that the General was right. He had suspicions of plunder, and these were increased by the movement of the men to the rear as he approached. He misinterpreted their conduct.
The lady of the house (a reward for her name!) hearing the dialogue in the yard, pushed her head through the crack of the kitchen door, and, as she tossed a lump of dough from hand to hand and gazed eagerly out, addressed the soldiers: "Ain't that old General Lee?" "Yes; General Lee and his son and other officers come to dine with you," they replied. "Well," she said, "he ain't no better than the men that fought for him, and I don't reckon he is as hungry; so you just come in here. I am going to give you yours first, and then I'll get something for him!"
What a meal it was! Seated at the kitchen table, the large-hearted woman bustling about and talking away, the ravenous tramps attacked a pile of old Virginia hoe-cake and corn-dodger, a frying pan with an inch of gravy and slices of bacon, streak of lean and streak of fat, very numerous. To finish—as much rich buttermilk as the drinkers could contain. With many heartfelt thanks the survivors bid farewell to this immortal woman, and leaving the General and his party in quiet possession of the front porch, pursued their way.