Nevertheless, he was very erratic. When I first saw him in Missouri, during Fremont's administration, his eye had a half-wild expression, probably the result of excessive smoking. From morning till night he was never without his cigar. To the nervous-sanguine temperament, indicated by his blonde hair, light eyes, and fair complexion, tobacco is peculiarly injurious.
While many insisted that no correspondent could meet Sherman without being insulted, I sought him at his tent in the field; he was absent with a scouting party, but soon returned, with one hand bandaged from his Shiloh wound. A staff-officer introduced me:
"General, this is Mr. ----."
"How do you do, Mr. ----?" inquired Sherman, with great suavity, offering me his uninjured hand.
"Correspondent of The New York Tribune," added the lieutenant.
His Complaints about the Press.
The general's manner changed from Indian summer to a Texas norther, and he asked, in freezing tones:
"Have you not come to the wrong place, sir?"
"I think not. I want to learn some facts about the late battle from your own lips. You complain that journalists misrepresent you. How can they avoid it, when you refuse to give them proper information? Some officers are drunkards and charlatans; but you would think it unjust if we condemned all on that account. Is it not equally absurd to anathematize every man of my profession for the sins of a few unworthy members?"