eard the most unearthly howling of
wolves, directly in our front. The prairie grass was tall and we could
not see the beasts, but the sound indicated that they were near. To my
ear it appeared that there must have been enough of them to devour our
party, horses and all, at a single meal. The part of Ohio that I hailed
from was not thickly settled, but wolves had been driven out long before
I left. Benjamin was from Indiana, still less populated, where the wolf
yet roamed over the prairies. He understood the nature of the animal,
and the capacity of a few to make believe there was an unlimited number
of them. He kept on towards the noise, unmoved. I followed in his trail,
lacking moral courage to turn back and join our sick companion. I have
no doubt that if Benjamin had proposed returning to Goliad, I would not
only have "seconded the motion," but have suggested that it was very
hard-hearted in us to leave Augur sick there in the first place; but
Benjamin did not propose turning back. When he did speak it was to ask,
"Grant, how many wolves do you think there are in that pack?" Knowing
where he was from, and suspecting that he thought I would overestimate
the number, I determined to show my acquaintance with the animal by
putting the estimate below what possibly could be correct, and answered,
"Oh, about twenty," very indifferently. He smiled and rode on. In a
minute we were close upon them, and before they saw us. There were just
_two_ of them. Seated upon their haunches, with their mouths close
together, they had made all the noise we had been hearing for the past
ten minutes. I have often thought of this incident since, when I have
heard the noise of a few disappointed politicians who had deserted their
associates. There are always more of them before they are counted.

THE SURRENDER OF GENERAL LEE

From 'Personal Memoirs of U. S. Grant.' Copyright by Ulysses S. Grant,
and reprinted by permission of the family of General Grant

Wars produce many stories of fiction, some of which are told until they
are believed to be true. The War of the Rebellion was no exception to
this rule, and the story of the apple-tree is one of those fictions
based on a slight foundation of fact. As I have said, there was an apple
orchard on the side of the hill occupied by the Confederate forces.
Running diagonally up the hill was a wagon road, which at one point ran
very near one of the trees, so that the wheels of vehicles had on th