he
was conqueror, but they acknowledged his greatness of heart. He had no
petty revenges.

Nothing in human history exceeds the contrasts in the life of Ulysses
Grant. When Lee surrendered to him, he controlled a battle line from the
Potomac to the Rio Grande, composed of a million men. His lightest
command had almost inconceivable power; and yet he was the same man who
had hauled wood in St. Louis and sold awls and shoe-pegs in Galena,--he
had been developed by opportunity. Personally he remained simple to the
point of inconspicuousness. His rusty blouse, his worn hat, his dusty
boots, his low and modest voice, gave no indication of his exalted
position and his enormous power. At the grand review of the armies in
Washington in May, he sat with musing eyes while the victorious legions
passed him, so unobtrusive in the throng that his troops could hardly
distinguish his form and face; and when he returned to Galena, his old
home, he carried no visible sign of the power and glory to which he had
won his way step by step, by sheer power of doing things so well that
other and greater duties were intrusted to his keeping.

He presented a new type of soldier to the world. He was never vengeful,
never angry in battle. When others swore and uttered ferocious cries,
Grant remained master of himself and every faculty, uttering no oaths,
giving his commands in full, clear, simple, dignified phrases. He hated
conflict. He cared nothing for the pomp and circumstance of war; it was
not glorious to him; and when it was all over he said, "I never want to
see a soldier's uniform again."

He was the chief citizen of the republic at the close of the war, and
when Lincoln was assassinated he was the mainstay of the republic. Every
eye was turned upon him, and his calmness was most salutary upon the
nation. He became inevitably a candidate for President, and was elected
with great enthusiasm in 1868. In 1872 he was re-elected, and during his
two terms his one great purpose was to reconstruct the nation. He did
all that he could to heal the scars of war. He stood between the
malignants of the North and the helpless people of the South, always
patient and sympathetic. His administrations ran in turbulent times, and
corruption was abroad in official circles, but there is no evidence that
he was touched by it. His administration was attacked; he was acquitted.

In 1878, two years after his second term had ended, he went on a trip
around the