The rebel General Jeff. Thompson, at the head of a horde of partisan cutthroats, went through a portion of the State of Missouri where Grant was located, committing petty outrages, and issuing absurd proclamations, probably in imitation of Governor Gamble, who seemed determined to fight out the battle with paper manifestoes. Grant, at the head of a small force, marched in pursuit of the marauder. It is said that Washington was utterly devoid of humor, and that he was not known to have made more than one joke in his lifetime. When Governor Trumbull, of Connecticut, suggested that the standing army of the United States should be limited to four thousand men, Washington moved that no enemy should invade the country with a larger force than four thousand. While it must be acknowledged that Grant is not a joker, he is not without the element of humor in his composition. Some of his punishments are ludicrous and amusing, though they are always judicious and effective. During the campaign in Missouri, while Grant was marching after Jeff. Thompson, his advance consisted of a body of Indiana cavalry, commanded by one Lieutenant Wickfield, a man of expedients, especially when suggested by an empty stomach. At noon this force arrived at a farm-house, which looked sufficiently thrifty to assure the campaigners that its larder would supply wherewith to correct the vacuum which prudent nature loathes. Wickfield, with two of his inferior officers, dismounted and entered the dwelling. 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."