f the army. "Old Fuss and Feathers" his critics called him, but
with all his love of pomp and circumstance Scott was a splendid
soldier, whether on the drill ground, or in the face of the enemy.
Nevertheless, to Grant it was a constant trial, at first. He felt like
a fish out of water. General Charles King thus speaks of him:

"Phlegmatic in temperament and long given to ease and deliberation in
all his movements at home, this springing to attention at the tap of
the drum, this snapping together of the heels at the sound of a
sergeant's voice, this sudden freezing to a rigid pose without the move
of a muscle, except at the word of command, was something almost beyond
him. It seemed utterly unnatural, if not utterly repugnant.
Accustomed to swinging along the winding banks of the White Oak, or the
cow-paths of the pasture lot, this moving only at a measured pace of
twenty-eight inches, and one hundred and ten to the minute, and all in
strict unison with the step of the guide on the marching flank or at
the head of column, came ten times harder than ever did the pages of
'analytical' or the calculus.

"Grant had no sense of rhythm. He had no joy in martial music. The
thrill and inspiration of the drum and fife, or the beautiful harmonies
of the old Academy band were utterly lost on him. In all that class of
1843, it may well be doubted if there lived one solitary soul who found
there less to like or more to shrink from, than this seventeen-year-old
lad who, thanks to the opportunities and to the training there given
them, was in less than a quarter of a century to be hailed as the
foremost soldier of more than two millions of men in the Union blue."

But this was only one of the Grant paradoxes--the contradictions which
were to mark his strange career.

Life at West Point was not all hardship, however. In his quiet way
Grant made a few warm friends. On account of his initials he was
promptly nicknamed "Uncle Sam," which was soon shortened to "Sam." He
excelled in two widely different courses--mathematics and horsemanship.
We have already noticed his early skill with, and love for horses. Now
it was to stand him in good stead. He was assigned, during one year,
to a particularly intractable young horse--a big, raw-boned sorrel,
named York. One of York's tricks was to rear and throw himself
backward with his rider. But in Grant he found his master, and the
steed not only grew tractable, but developed under h