ked back to this time as the very pinnacle of his son's greatness.

That there _were_ darker days, and many of them, must be chronicled in
any true sketch of Ulysses S. Grant. He was to taste the very dregs of
humiliation and despair. He was to see these same admiring friends
turn from him one by one, with a sneer, or reproachful shake of the
head.

For days of peace were at hand--long days of barrack routine and
enforced idleness. To Captain Grant these days coming after the
excitement of Mexico were at first welcome, then speedily grew tedious.
He had always hated the humdrum life of the drill ground. Now he was
shifted, after a few months, to a camp at San Francisco. The distance
was so great, travelling as they did by way of the Isthmus of Panama
(this was long before the railroads), that he could not take his wife
with him. His slender pay also would not admit of it.

Life in all the army camps was free and easy. Liquor flowed freely,
and drunkenness was unfortunately common. Grant like others, drank,
but not to excess. With him, however, one glass was sufficient to
flush his face and render his walk unsteady. It was not long before
the life at this far-removed western camp began to tell upon him. He
quarreled with his commanding officer, and finally resigned from the
service.

He had to borrow money in order to return home, a long and painful
journey by way of New York, and it was a discouraged, broken-looking
man who greeted his wife and his parents. This was the summer of 1854.
Captain Grant was then only thirty-two, but it already seemed as though
the best and only valuable part of his life was behind him. The recent
conquering hero, with his dashing uniform and epaulets, had become a
somewhat seedy-looking individual with shoulders prematurely stooped,
and shuffling gait.

The word speedily went round the village, with many a nod and wink:

"Told you so! Went up like a rocket; came down like a stick."

His wife, however, had not lost her confidence in him. Through all the
trying days that were to follow, she remained staunch and loyal. She
persuaded her father to let her have a sixty-acre tract of land, near
St. Louis. There she brought Ulysses and their children, and there he
began life anew, as a plain farmer.

He built with his own hands a log house of four rooms, with chimneys at
each end, and wide fireplaces. With grim humor he called the place,
"Hard-scrabble." But he liked th