“The Federals didn’t do it all, father,” said David. “They burned our buildings, just as they burned the buildings of almost every man who was in the rebel army; but we should have had enough left to get along with, if Redburn’s guerillas had left us alone. They didn’t leave us a bed to sleep on!” “That’s what makes me so pizen savage agin everybody,” exclaimed Godfrey, pounding with the handle of his knife on the table. “The men what wore the same colored jacket as I did, came here and tuk what the Yanks left us. Why didn’t they go up to Gordon’s an’ clean them out too? Kase Gordon was a gen’ral, that’s why. That fuss was a rich man’s war, an’ a poor man’s fight, that’s jest what that fuss was; an’ everybody can see it now that it is done past. Men like me had to stay in the ranks an’ carry a musket, an’ starve an’ freeze in the trenches--that’s what we had to do; while rich planters, like Gordon, lived high in their tents, rode their fine hosses, stole the sanitary goods the Yanks sent to their fellers in Richmond, an’ thought they was a fightin’ for the ’federacy.” “Why, father, General Gordon was wounded no less than three times,” said David. “S’pose he was,” replied Godfrey. “An’ while he was fighting the Feds in front of Richmond, some more of them came here and burned down his splendid house, that ours wouldn’t have made a woodshed to, and stole everything his family had.” “No, they didn’t do nothing of the kind,” answered his father, almost savagely. “They burned his house, I know, an’ sarved him right, too. I’m glad of it; but as fur stealin’ everything the Gordons had, that ain’t so. No ’taint. The gen’ral’s got heaps an’ stacks of money now.” “I don’t believe it,” said David, bluntly. “If you want me to lay that cowhide over yer shoulders right peart, you jest conspute me that ar way onct more,” said Godfrey, setting down his cup of buttermilk. “Whar did them speckled ponies come from that Don and Bert ride around the country, I’d like to know, if the Gordons hain’t got no money? I was up thar the other day when it rained so hard, an’ the gen’ral, bein’ mighty perlite, axed me would I come in an set till the storm was over. Wal, I went, an’ what did I see? The fust thing I laid my eyes onto was a pianner that them gals thumps on when they had oughter be workin’ in the kitchen. They was a settin’ the table fur dinner, too; an’ didn’t I see silver forks thar, an’ white-handled knives, an’ chiny, an’ all them things that would jest set me onto my feet agin if I had the money they cost? I did, I bet ye. Hain’t got no money, hey, the Gordons hain’t? I know better. They have, an’ that’s what makes me so pizen savage. How have they got any more right to have to nor I have? We both fit the Yanks, an’ I made a poor man of myself by it, while the gen’ral is jest as well off as he ever was. Things ain’t fixed right in this yere ’arth, no how!”