e
I've been doin' to-day, and he come across the powder. He looked at it
a minute, and says he, 'Why, here's that powder I hid in the old
holler tree; I'd clean forgot it. How did it get here, Mother?' And
'Lizabeth says, 'Why, son, I went and got it the night the Yankees
camped over in the woods at the back o' the house.' Harrison looked at
her like he thought she was talkin' out of her head, and says he,
'What did you say, Mother?' And 'Lizabeth went on to tell him jest
what I've told you, as unconcerned as if she was tellin' about walkin'
from the front door to the front gate. And when she got through,
Harrison drew a long breath, and says he, 'Mother, I'm proud of you!
That's braver than anything I ever did. They made me a captain, but
you ought to be a general.' And 'Lizabeth, she colored up, and says
she, 'Why, son, any woman that had the heart of a mother in her would
'a' done jest what I did. It's nothin' to make any fuss over.'

"I ain't overly fond o' tellin' stories about war times, child,"
concluded Aunt Jane, "but I like to tell this, for it's somethin' that
ought to be ricollected. Harrison showed me a big book once, The
Ricords of the Rebellion, and his name as big as life on one o' the
pages, tellin' how he was promoted twice in one day; but 'Lizabeth
outlived her husband and all her children, and you won't find so much
as a stone to mark her grave, and in a little while nobody'll ever
know that such a woman as 'Lizabeth Taylor ever lived; yet, it's jest
as Harrison said; what she did was braver than anything he did. And
it's my belief that Harrison never would 'a' been the soldier he was
if he hadn't had his mother's conscience. It was 'Lizabeth's
conscience that made her stand up in church and own up to usin' our
Mite Society money, and made her leave her bed that night and risk her
life for the lives o' them soldier boys, and it was her conscience in
her son that kept him at his post on the field o' battle when
everybody else was runnin' off; and that's why 'Lizabeth's name ought
to be ricollected along with Harrison's."

"Poor human nature," we sometimes say, forgetting that through every
character runs a vein of gold. Now and then kindly chance rends the
base earth that covers it and shows us a hero or a heroine. But
revealed or unrevealed, all human nature is rich in the possibility of
greatness.

Here and there we build a monument; but if for every deed of noble
daring some memorial were raise