aking of General Grant's personal characteristics at that period
of his life, I recall a conversation in his carriage, when, riding
down Pennsylvania Avenue, he, inquired of me in a humorous way,
"Sherman, what special hobby do you intend to adopt?" I inquired
what he meant, and he explained that all men had their special
weakness or vanity, and that it was wiser to choose one's own than
to leave the newspapers to affix one less acceptable, and that for
his part he had chosen the "horse," so that when anyone tried to
pump him he would turn the conversation to his "horse." I answered
that I would stick to the "theatre and balls," for I was always
fond of seeing young people happy, and did actually acquire a
reputation for "dancing," though I had not attempted the waltz, or
anything more than the ordinary cotillon, since the war.

On the 24th of February, 1869, I was summoned to Washington,
arriving on the 26th, taking along my aides, Lieutenant-Colonels
Dayton and Audenried.

On the 4th of March General Grant was duly inaugurated President of
the United States, and I was nominated and confirmed as General of
the Army.

Major-General P. H. Sheridan was at the same time nominated and
confirmed as lieutenant-general, with orders to command the
Military Division of the Missouri, which he did, moving the
headquarters from St. Louis to Chicago; and General Meade was
assigned to command the Military Division of the Atlantic, with
headquarters at Philadelphia.

At that moment General Meade was in Atlanta, Georgia, commanding
the Third Military District under the "Reconstruction Act;" and
General Thomas, whose post was in Nashville, was in Washington on a
court of inquiry investigating certain allegations against General
A. B. Dyer, Chief of Ordnance. He occupied the room of the second
floor in the building on the corner of H and Fifteenth Streets,
since become Wormley's Hotel. I at the time was staying with my
brother, Senator Sherman, at his residence, 1321 K Street, and it
was my habit each morning to stop at Thomas's room on my way to the
office in the War Department to tell him the military news, and to
talk over matters of common interest. We had been intimately
associated as "man and boy" for thirty-odd years, and I profess to
have had better opportunities to know him than any man then living.
His fame as the "Rock of Chickamauga" was perfect, and by the world
at large he was considered as the embodiment of stre