"The landlord swears you're from Georgia. He says none but a Georgian
would call for corn-bread at this time of night."
On that hint we acted, and when our sooty attendant came in with the
supper-things, we discussed Georgia mines, Georgia banks, and Georgia
mosquitoes, in a way that showed we had been bitten by all of them. In
half an hour it was noised all about the hotel that the two gentlemen
the Confederacy was taking such excellent care of were from Georgia.
The meal ended, and a quiet smoke over, our entertainers rose to go. As
the Judge bade us good-night, he said to us,--
"In the morning you had better address a note to Mr. Benjamin, asking
the interview with the President. I will call at ten o'clock, and take
it to him."
"Very well. But will Mr. Davis see us on Sunday?"
"Oh, that will make no difference."