His truth is marching on!’”
sang a low voice beside them. “Children, this is a glorious day.” Mr. Huntsworth’s voice was tremulous with emotion and his eyes were misty. “It is a sad spectacle to see brave men humiliated and humbled, but aside from my sympathy for the Southerners it makes my old heart beat with joy to be under the Stars and Stripes once more. Let us greet the General.”
He stepped forward briskly. General Grant stopped his horse as they approached.
“We want to give you welcome, sir,” said Mr. Huntsworth extending his hand. “We are Unionists released only by your successful siege from ‘durance vile.’ Welcome, sir, welcome!”
“You must have found our shells pretty warm,” said Grant shaking his hands. “How did you live?”
“Sir,” replied the old gentleman whimsically, “you made us like the Southerners’ favorite bread: dodgers.”
Grant smiled, and then asked. “And are these Federals too?”
“One is a soldier, the other a–what shall I call you, Jeanne? A blockade runner or what?”
“I am a Union girl,” said Jeanne smiling into the gray eyes above her. “A Union girl longing for home.”
“Where is your home?” asked Grant. “Suppose you three come along with me and tell me the whole story.”