“Tom, you’re a man after my own heart. You’re feeling rich enough to make your General a present when we are all about to starve. You’re a man of faith. So am I. I say keep a stiff upper lip and peg away. The sun still shines, the rains refresh, and water runs down hill yet. That’s one thing Uncle Billy Sherman’s army couldn’t do much with when they put us to the test of fire. He couldn’t burn up our water power. Tom, you may not know it, but I do—we’ve got water power enough to turn every wheel in the world. Wait till we get our harness on it and make it spin and weave our cotton,—we’ll feed and clothe the human race. Faith’s my motto. I can hardly get enough to eat now, but better times are coming. A man’s just as big as his faith. I’ve got faith in the South. I’ve got faith in the good will of the people of the North. Slavery is dead. They can’t feel anything but kindly toward an enemy that fought as bravely and lost all. We’ve got one country now and it’s going to be a great one.”
“You’re right, General, faith’s the word.”
“Tom, you don’t know how this gift from you touches me.”
The General pressed the old soldier’s hand with feeling. He changed his orders from a buggy to a two-horse team that could carry all his precious lightwood.
He filled the vehicle, and what was left he packed carefully in his valise.
He stopped his team in front of the Baptist parsonage to see Mrs. Durham about Allan McLeod.
“Delighted to see you, General Worth. It’s refreshing to look into the faces of our great leaders, if they are still outlawed as rebels by the Washington government.”
“Ah, Madam, I need not say it is refreshing to see you, the rarest and most beautiful flower of the old South in the days of her wealth and pride! And always the same!” The General bowed over her hand.
“Yes, I haven’t surrendered yet.”
“And you never will,” he laughed.