It is also stated on the same authority that General Grant is strictly temperate.
His men are almost as much attached to him as are the Army of the Potomac to General McClellan. He is a true soldier, and shares all the hardships with his men, sleeping on the ground in the open air, and eating hard bread and salt pork with as good a grace as any private soldier.
He seldom wears a sword, except when absolutely necessary, and frequently wears a semi-military coat and low crowned hat.
The mistakes which people used to make, when coming to headquarters to see the general, often reminded me of a genuine anecdote which is told of General Richardson, or “Fighting Dick,” as we familiarly called him. It occurred when the troops were encamped near Washington, and was as follows:
The general was sauntering along toward a fort, which was in course of erection not far from headquarters, dressed in his usual uniform for fatigue, namely: citizen’s pants, undress coat, and an old straw hat which had once been white, but was now two or three shades nearer the general’s own complexion.
Along came one of those dashing city staff officers, in white gloves, and trimmed off with gold lace to the very extreme of military regulations. He was in search of General Richardson, but did not know him personally. Reining up his horse some little distance from the general, he shouted: “hallo, old fellow! can you tell me where General Richardson’s headquarters are?”
The general pointed out the tent to him, and the young officer went dashing along, without ever saying “thank you.” The general then turned on his heel and went back to his tent, where he found the officer making a fuss because there was no orderly to hold his horse. Turning to General R., as he came up, he said: “Won’t you hold my horse while I find General R.?” “Oh yes, certainly,” said he.
After hitching the horse to a post near by for that purpose, the general walked into the tent, and, confronting young pomposity, he said in his peculiar twang, “Well, sir, what will you have?”
When the Federal troops marched into Vicksburg, what a heart-sickening sight it presented; the half-famished inhabitants had crawled from their dens and caves in the earth, to find their houses demolished by shell, and all their pleasant places laid waste.
But the appearance of the soldiers as they came from the entrenchments covered with mud and bespattered with the blood of their comrades who had been killed or wounded, would have touched a heart of stone.