ing with men, in the West a man had been painfully and silently making himself. His name was Ulysses S. Grant. The President had known nothing of his coming into the army. No political party had demanded him; indeed he had found it difficult at first, West Point graduate though he was and great as the need of trained service was, to secure the lowest appointment. He had taken what he could get, however, and from the start he had always done promptly the thing asked of him; more than that, he seemed always to be looking for things to do. It was these habits of his that brought him at last, in February of 1862, to the command of a movement in which Lincoln was deeply interested. This was the capture of Forts Henry and Donelson, near the mouth of the Tennessee river. "Our success or failure at Fort Donelson is vastly important, and I beg you to put your soul in the effort," Lincoln wrote on February 16 to Halleck and Buell, then in command of Missouri and Tennessee. While the President was writing his letters, Grant, in front of Fort Donelson, was writing a note to the Confederate commander, who had asked for terms of capitulation: "No terms except unconditional and immediate surrender can be accepted. I propose to move immediately on your works." To the harrassed President at Washington these words must have been like a war-cry. He had spent the winter in a vain effort to inspire his supposed great generals with the very spirit breathed in the words and deeds of this unknown officer in the West.

Grant was now made a major-general, and entrusted with larger things. He always brought about results; but in spite of this, the President saw there was much opposition to him. For a long period he was in partial disgrace; but Lincoln must have noticed that while many other generals, whose achievements were less than Grant's, complained loudly and incessantly at reprimands-" snubbing," the President

called it-Grant said nothing. He stayed at his post doggedly, working his way inch by inch down the Mississippi.

Finally, in July, 1862, when General Halleck was called to Washington as General-in-Chief, Grant was put at the head of the armies of the West. There was much opposition to him. Men came to the President urging his removal. Lincoln shook his head. "I can't spare this man," he said; "he fights." Many good people complained that he drank. Can you tell me the kind of whisky?" asked Lincoln, "I should like to send a barrel to some of my other generals.'

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Nevertheless, the President grew anxious as the months went on. The opening of the Mississippi was, after the capture of Richmond, the most important task of the war. The wrong man there was only second in harm to the wrong man on the Potomac. Was Grant a "wrong man?" Little could be told from his telegrams and letters. "General Grant is a copious worker and fighter," said Lincoln later, "but he is a very meager writer or telegrapher." Finally, the President and the Secretary of War sent for a brilliant and loyal newspaper man, Charles A. Dana, and asked him to go to Grant's army, "to act as the eyes of the Government at the front," said the President. His real mission was to find out for them what kind of a man Grant was. Dana's letters soon showed Lincoln that Grant was a general that nothing could turn from a purpose. That was enough for the President. He let him alone, and watched. When, finally, Vicksburg was captured, he wrote him the following letter-it may be called his first recognition of the General:

MAJOR-GENERAL GRANT.

WASHINGTON, July 13, 1863.

My Dear General: I do not remember that you and I ever met personally. I write this now as a grateful acknowledgment for the almost inestimable service you have done the country. I wish to say a word further. When you first