What Happened to Me

by La Salle Corbell Pickett

The charities and generous deeds of Mrs. Grant were so quietly effected that the world never knew of the good she accomplished. A friend who was very close to her said that her work ought to be made known to the public after she was gone, that it might live in memory without wounding her modesty.

A home-like atmosphere pervaded the White House, due to the President's habit of keeping his official existence and his home life separate and to the determination of Mrs. Grant to provide him with a place where official duties might fall from his brain and pleasure and content fill his heart. Here he was "Ulys" to "Mrs. G.," as he called his heart-companion of many years. Here he listened to the confidences of his children, happy that they brought to him even their inmost thoughts. At that time Fred was a cadet at West Point and the younger children were attending Washington schools.

Colonel Dent did his part toward keeping the White House cheerful with the original of that smile which has since been utilized for commercial purposes. General Babcock could more easily have passed for a politician than a soldier. General Porter's funereal face covered a fountain of wit that was constantly bubbling up, to the surprise and delight of those who had been deceived by the preternatural gravity of his expression. The President was criticized by his opponents for keeping officers about the White House, but when their martial phase was so slightly in evidence I could not see why anyone should object.

Though General Grant was the soul of geniality with his intimate friends, to the public generally his reticence had made him known as "The Sphynx," or "the Great Unspeakable." If one chanced to appeal to "the Sphynx" on a subject in which he was interested he became as fluent as the most loquacious of men. When he was Commander of the United States Army a gentleman who called upon him with a letter of introduction from a friend of both, tried him upon two apparently interesting subjects without leading anywhere. As the visitor was about to retire in despair it occurred to him to mention a fine horse owned by their friend. The "Great Unspeakable" immediately became a fountain of eloquence and an animated conversation followed, to the delight equally of the General and his caller.

The President told me in a gleeful way the story of his first purchase of a horse. Speaking of his early dislike of military life and his horror of war:

"I did not want to be a soldier. When my father came home from town one day and surprised me with the information that I had received an appointment to West Point I said, 'I am not going.' He looked at me and replied, 'I think you are.' Then I thought so, too. I don't know what else I could have been. I should probably not have succeeded in trade. My first purchase was made when I was seven. A neighbor had a horse which he was willing to sell for twenty-five dollars. My longing for that horse was so great that my father, though knowing the price was too high, told me that I might offer twenty dollars for it, and if the neighbor would not take that I could offer twenty-two and if that did not suffice I might pay the twenty-five. So I went to the man and told him what my father had said. It would not be difficult to solve the problem of the cost of that horse. The boys got wind of the story and you can imagine that for awhile life was not worth much to me.

"It may be that I lost money on that horse, but the first dollar I ever earned was on a mule; a circus mule. The ringmaster offered a dollar to anyone who should succeed in riding the mule once around the ring. My mind was made up to win that dollar. I promptly mounted the animal and was as promptly deposited upon the sawdust. Asking if I might have another trial I was told that I might have as many as I wanted. This time I mounted with my face toward the mule's tail, which so disconcerted him that he ambled peacefully around the ring and I got the dollar."

At West Point Cadet Grant took the highest leap recorded in the history of the Academy. One who witnessed the feat described the scene,—the clean-cut, blue-eyed young man who at the call of the riding-master dashed out from the ranks on a powerfully built chestnut sorrel horse and rode to the end of the hall. Turning he galloped down the center toward a bar placed higher than the head of a tall man standing. Within a short distance of the bar the horse paused and gathering all his strength for the mighty effort vaulted over. Forty years later Grant remembered the steed that had served him so well and said, "York was a wonderful horse." After the war, learning that his old riding-master was poor and helpless, General Grant sent him a cheque.

The old soldier never claimed to have distinguished himself in scholarship at West Point, but he must have made an impression of strength upon those around him, for one of his classmates, James A. Hardie, said, "If a great emergency arises in this country during our lifetime Sam Grant will be the man to meet it."

He had the simplicity characteristic of all really great minds, and the directness of a soldier, going straight to his aim; he never either overshot or undershot the mark. He spent a part of every day walking unattended along the streets enjoying exercise and open air unhampered by guards, and his daily rides were also usually solitary, for in his racing buggy behind his magnificent trotter, leaning over the dashboard to encourage his horse by a friendly word, there was scarcely anything in Washington that could have kept him in view. Only once was he passed in a race. His friend and clerk, Lieutenant Culver C. Sniffen, now a General on the retired list, owned a fine horse and the President challenged him to a race. The Lieutenant declined, not wishing either to beat the President or be beaten by him. The President, with the true sporting instinct, persisted until the Lieutenant, fired with like emulation, yielded and rode to win. He did win and the President was very fond of telling the story of the only time he had ever lost a race.