The curmudgeon meets the Petersburg Volunteers (War of 1812)
We drew up, in military array, at the base of the hill on which the great house was erected. About half way down the hill stood a very homely old man, dressed in plain Virginia cloth, his head uncovered, and his venerable locks flowing in the wind. Some of our quizzical clique at once marked him as a fit subject of fun. "I wonder," said one, "What old codger that is, with his hair blowing nine ways for Easter Monday." "Why, of course, said another, "it is the overseer, and he seems to be scared out of a year's growth. I suspect he never saw gentlemen volunteers before." But how we were astonished when he advanced to our officers and introduced himself as THOMAS JEFFERSON! The officers were invited to a collation while we were marched off to the town, where more abundant provisions had been made.
Vigilantibus et non dormientibus jura subveniunt. Molon Labe!