Hunter's little brief authority lasted just fifteen days, when he was succeeded by General Halleck—a stout, heavy-faced, rather stupid-looking officer, who wore civilian's dress, and resembled a well-to-do tradesman. On the 20th of November appeared his shameful General Order Number Three:
"It has been represented that important information respecting the numbers and condition of our forces is conveyed to the enemy by means of fugitive slaves who are admitted within our lines. In order to remedy this evil, it is directed that no such persons be hereafter permitted to enter the lines of any camp, or of any forces on the march, and that any now within our lines be immediately excluded therefrom."
Its inhumanity outraged the moral sense, and its falsehood the common sense, of the country. The negroes were uniformly friends to our soldiers. After diligent inquiry from every leading officer of my acquaintance, I could not learn a single instance of treachery. To the cruelty of turning the slave away, Halleck added the dishonesty of slandering him.
When Charles James Fox was canvassing for Parlia-liament, one of his auditors said to him:
"Sir, I admire your talents, but d--n your politics!"
Fox retorted: "Sir, I admire your frankness, but d--n your manners!"
Many who had official business with Halleck uttered similar maledictions. To his visitors he was brusque to surliness. Dr. Holmes says, with great truth, that all men are bores when we do not want them. Like all public characters, Halleck was beset by those grievous dispensations of Providence. But a general in command of half a continent ought, at least, to have the manners of a gentleman; and he was sometimes so insulting that his legitimate visitors would have been justified in kicking him down stairs. None of our high officials equaled him in rudeness, except Mr. Stanton, Secretary of War.
In January, as a Government steamer approached the landing at Commerce, Missouri, two women on shore shouted to the pilot:
"Don't land! Jeff. Thompson and his soldiers are here waiting for you."
The redoubtable guerrilla, with fifty men, instantly sprang from behind a wood-pile and fired a volley. Twenty-six bullets entered the cabin of the retreating boat; but, thanks to the loyal women, no person was killed or captured.