Prescott journal. [volume] (Prescott, Wis.) 1861-1871, 1868-11-27
GEN. GRANT.

Correspondence or the hartI0rQ POstl
You know that Gen. Grant has come
among us again, after behaving like him
self during the hot campaign, putting
not word between any man and the
choice of the people.
Some of you say up in Hartford, as
here in Washington, that life only waked
up in this man lately, and that his ex-
perience is little. How many of you
have followed the drum in Mexico9 Did
you ever see the city of Mexico? Do
you know how many bushels of books
it is worth to see one foreign, historic
city?
How many of you ever visited West
Point? A little visit there is worth a
good deal OF a life. Mountains on eth
err side of the river wait like giants to be
ferried over, looking blankly up and
down. Between them a landscape of
gold and green hangs like picture in
frame of fruit. Steamers go and come
under the cliffs, where in the summer
the East and the West pass and repass
thrilled with the sceneries, so solemn, yet
so soft. There, where against the noun
tain side great plain hangs suspended,
Grant forfeits his boyhood to be an off
Ger, and five of the fresh, perspective,
emotional years of his youth were spent
in the contemplation of these inspiring
sceneries, in the company of men edu-
Gated for death or fame, and by the in
FAINT footprints of the nation recorded
there ia Arnold's treason, Washington's
virgils and Kosklusko's exile.
From the nursery of Mars, where the
body and the mind are both seasoned
without mercy, the cadet departed to fol-
low his regiment TO the frontiers, to fol-
low the Standard of Manifest Destiny to
the city of Cortes, 10 test the life of
American labor for the first time when
almost in the meridian of manhood, ana
suddenly, to our surprise, who had not
traced him on, but to his own soul not
surprising, he came to view like a loco
motive bursting through some tunnel and
scaling the terraces of mountains.
GRANT AND SCOTT MEETING.
saw him meet Winfield Scott for
the first time at West Point in 1866
come back to his alma mater conquer
er. When the two men met all the pre-
vious wars of the Republic gave their
apostolic benediction to the last war and
TO Grant.
Scott looked like gigantic statue out
of the mythology Of the country, while
Grant was of the present race, attenua-
ted by civilization. 1t was Charlemaigne
lived down to Napoleon. Scott was
feeble, preserved from childishness only
by pride, aud an old warrior worn down
to whist and sucked on strong liquor,
the last mothers milk of life. He had
been rewarded beyond the proverbial To-
gratitude of republics, supported to the
end upon his full salary and honors, and
much of the story of the war was re-
peated to him here, in the cradle of the
army, where he was destined ere long to
compose his great face and moulder in
the highland graveyard.
To him, awaiting Grant. all eyes were
turned, and no man was ever more con-
scious of notice, sitting in the long par
lors of Cozzen's Hotel, his blue mantle
draping his shoulders, his foury white
and puffy face, with cords and assures
Of will running through it, his chest and
head proportional upon colossal scale,
a cast of the old man would have been
m ,,oopup,ant ,,,;tbont ~ ;pob oJJaJ -
his stature.
With much that remained of poor
soldiers human nature; with fondness
for bully Raging at cards for the cheat
ing he himself was guilty of; with an
infirm, arrogant and jealous temper, the
fruit or too much undisputed command,
Scott was all one martial history between
Washington and Grant. Those three
were the commanders; the rest were
lieutenants or heroes of episodes.
This old mould of hero had crossed
the cataract and silenced its thunders
with his cannon. He had repeated the
story of Cortes and run up the flag of
the Republic over the Mexican cathedral.
The feeble struggles the Indians made
against us, whatever glory they involved,
were overcome by his name. And he
had not dishonored so much long and
victorious service by bending his heary
head to the traitorous state that gave
him birth. Now, on the edge of the
grave, be waited to see the new hero
come iD, the risen face of the next era.
Soon the real Lieutenant General
came, with more pride in his face than
it has probably worn before or since, and
rapidly advancing, till he stood under
the shadow of Scott, be reached up his
hand like cadet to a veteran, and con-
graduated the fading laurels with the
fresh.
l had no doubt that in the penetra.
ting, solid look of respect with which
Scott regarded Grant, there was con-
seriousness that the interview had its mo-
Nervousness among pictures. In Grants
finished, smiling coun.enance, there was
the kindness of young hero respecting
the jealousy of an old one. and the sat
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