Though the great country for which Grant was fighting had yet hardly heard his name, he was sufficiently well known in this locality to wield a powerful influence. Wickfield realized that the potent name of the brigadier would be enough to induce the people to bring forward the best the house afforded, and he had the impudence to declare that he was Brigadier General Grant. The name was indeed a tower of strength, and the best that the larder contained was set before the hungry guests. They ate not merely all they wanted, but all they could, and asked how much was to be paid for their entertainment. The farmer's folks seemed to think it was a sufficient honor to have fed a live brigadier, and they declined payment. The officers went on their way, rejoicing in the plenty that filled their stomachs.
The main body of the army halted a few miles from this house, to rest for a time; Grant rode forward, and came to the house in which the officers of his advance had been so sumptuously regaled. He was not so ethereal as to be above the necessity of eating; and, indulging in a course of reasoning similar to that of Wickfield, he rode up to the front gate of the house, and asked the occupants if they could prepare him a dinner.
"No," responded the mistress of the house, in tones gruff and unamiable; "General Grant and his staff have just been here and eaten up everything in the house, except one pumpkin pie."
"Humph," said Grant, in his stoical manner, without exhibiting any surprise at the singular intelligence. "What is your name?"
"Selvidge," answered the woman.
"Will you keep that pie till I send an officer for it?" added Grant, throwing a half dollar to her.
"Yes, I will," she replied, picking up the money; and Grant rode off, doubtless thinking that he did not realize any benefit from the dinner which the brigadier and his staff had eaten, for he was probably willing to believe that the impostor had not taken his name in vain.
That evening, when the force had gone into camp for the night, the several regiments were ordered to appear on parade at half past six o'clock, with particular instructions that every man should be present. The order was a very unusual one, for dress parades on the march were not required, and a decided sensation was created in the army. Some thought the enemy were upon them, and various explanations of the strange order were suggested, though none of them were correct. At the appointed time the parade was formed, ten columns deep, and nearly a quarter of a mile in length. The ordinary ceremonial of the dress parade was punctiliously performed, and then the assistant adjutant general read the following luminous order:—
"Headquarters, Army in the Field.
"Special Order, No. 112.
"Lieutenant Wickfield, of the —— Indiana Cavalry, having on this day eaten everything in Mrs. Selvidge's house, except one pumpkin pie, Lieutenant Wickfield is hereby ordered to return with an escort of one hundred cavalry, and eat that pie also.
U.S. Grant,
Brigadier General Commanding."