I was alone one afternoon in my accustomed seat, when a tall, lantern-jawed soldier with a musket on his shoulder marched in.
"I want some whiskey!" he informed me.
"You'll not get it here!"
"Wall, I guess you'll have to scare it up. I'll search the house.'
"Search away! I'll call the provost guard to help you," I said.
He turned and marched out. At the door he sent me a parting shot:—
"Wall! you've got a damned tongue ef you ain't got no whiskey!"
My husband has always considered this a very good story. I forestall him by telling it myself!
I grew very fond of General Warren. He spent many hours with us; tactful, considerate, and kind, he never grieved or offended us.
One evening he silently took his seat. Presently he said:—