A sunny smile overspread the rugged features of the National President:
"That reminds me," he said, "of a temperance lecturer in Illinois. Wet and cold he stopped for the night at a wayside inn. The landlord, noting his condition, asked if he would have a glass of brandy.
"'No—no—' came the quick reply. 'I am a temperance lecturer and do not drink—' he paused and his voice dropped to a whisper—'I would like some water however—and if you should of your own accord, put a little brandy in it unbeknownst to me—why, it will be all right.'"
Sherman was trying to carry out the wishes of the man with the loving heart.
At Charlotte Davis was handed a telegram announcing the assassination of Abraham Lincoln. His thin fate went death white. Handing the telegram to his Secretary, he quietly said:
"I am sorry. We have lost our noblest and best friend in the court of the enemy."
He immediately telegraphed the news to his wife who had fled further south to Abbeville, South Carolina. Mrs. Davis burst into tears on reading the fatal message. Her woman's intuition saw the vision of horror which the tragedy meant to her and to her stricken people.
The President left Charlotte with an escort of a thousand cavalrymen for Abbeville. His journey was slow. The wagons were carrying all that remained of the Confederate Treasury with the money in currency from the Richmond banks which had been entrusted to the care of the Secretary of the Treasury.
Davis stopped at a little cabin on the roadside and asked the lady who stood in the doorway for a drink of water.
She turned to comply with his request.