He handed a folded paper to Harry, who opened and read it. It was addressed to the chief of whatever officers might be occupying his house, and it ran thus, somewhat in the old-fashioned way:
SIRS AND GENTLEMEN:
The bearer of this is Caesar Moncrieffe. He and his ancestors have been servants of my family and my ancestors in the State of Virginia for more than two hundred years. He is a good man, as were his father and grandfather before him. He will not steal unless he should think it for his benefit or yours. He will not lie unless convinced of its necessity. He will work if you make him.
All of his impulses are good, and though he will strenuously deny it at first, he is about the best cook in the world. Knowing the scarcity of nutritious food in the army, I have therefore sent him to you with what I could gather together, in order that he might cook you a dinner worthy of Christmas. Put him to work, and if he disobeys, shuffles or evades in any manner, hit him over the head with anything that you can find hard enough or heavy enough to make an impression.
Wishing the Army of Northern Virginia the continued and brilliant success that has attended it heretofore,
I remain,
Your most obedient servant,
THEOPHILUS MONCRIEFFE.
“Ah, Sir Knight of the Dark but not Rueful Countenance, thou art doubly welcome!” said Happy Tom, now thrice-happy Tom. “It is a stout and goodly horse from which thou hast dismounted, and I see that he yet carries on his back something besides the saddle. But let me first speak to my Lord Talbot, our real commander, who is within.”
Caesar did not wholly understand, but he saw that Langdon meant well, and he grinned. Happy Tom rushed toward Colonel Talbot, who stood before the fire with Lieutenant-Colonel St. Hilaire.
“Colonel Talbot! Colonel Talbot, sir!” he exclaimed.
“What is it, Thomas, my lad? You appear to be excited, and that is not seemly in a soldier of your experience.”
“But, Colonel, this isn’t a battle. Of course, I wouldn’t let myself be stirred up by the Yankees, but it’s a dinner, Colonel! It’s a Christmas dinner, and it bears all the signs of being as fine as any we ever ate in the old times of peace!”
“Thomas, my lad, I regret it, but I must say that you are talking in a much more light-headed way than usual. All that we had we brought with us, and your young brother officers, who I must say excel you in industry, are now assembling it.”
“But, Colonel, there’s a big black fellow outside. He’s just come in with a loaded horse, belonging to the owner of this house, and he’s brought a letter with him. Read it, sir.”
Colonel Talbot gravely read the letter and passed it to Lieutenant-Colonel St. Hilaire, who read it with equal gravity.
“Sounds well, eh, Hector?” Colonel Talbot said.
“Most excellent, Leonidas.”
They went to the door with Happy Tom, and again Caesar saluted respectfully.
“You are welcome, Caesar,” said Colonel Talbot. “I am commander here. What has your kind master sent us?”
Caesar bowed low before the two colonels and then proceeded to unload his horse. The young officers had come crowding to the door, but Happy Tom received the first package, which was wrapped in sacking.
“An old Virginia ham, nut-fed and sugar-cured!” he exclaimed. “Yes, it’s real! By all the stars and the sun and the moon, too, it’s real, because I’m pinching it! I thought I’d never see another such ham again!”
“And here’s a dressed turkey, a twenty-pounder at least!” said Harry. “Ah, you noble bird! What better fate could you find than a tomb in the stomachs of brave Confederate soldiers!”
“And another turkey!” said Dalton.
“And a bag of nuts!” said Sherburne.
“And, as I live, two bottles of claret!” said St. Claire.
“And a big black cake!” said Lieutenant-Colonel Hector St. Hilaire.
“And a great bunch of holly!” said Colonel Talbot, in whose eye, usually so warlike, a large tear stood.
“Dat,” said Caesar, “was sent by little Miss Julia Moncrieffe, just nine years old. She wished she had a bunch for every soldier in the army, an’ she sent her lub to all uv ’em.”