Sword and shield. (Clinton, Miss.) 1885-1888, 1885-12-12
HOURS wITn GREAT MEN.


suppose that could write an entire
library of personal "reminiscences rela.
tive to the eminent people with whom
! have been thrown during busy life,
but | hate to do it, because | always
regarded such things as sacred from
the vulgar eye, and felt bound to re-
spect the confidence of prominent
man Just as much as | would that of
one who was much less before the peo-
pie.
| remember well my first meeting
with General w. I. Sherman. | would
not mention it here if it were not for
the fact that the people seem TO be
yearning for personal "reminiscences of
great men, and that is perfectly right,
too.
1t was since the war tnat | met Gen
eral Sherman, and i was on the line of
the Union Pacific railway at one of
those justly celebrated eating houses,
which | understand are now abandon
ed. The colored waiter had cut off a strip
of the omelette with a pair Of shears,
the scorched oatmeal had been passed
around. the little rubber door-mats
fried in butter and called pancakes
had been dealt around fse table, and
the cashier at the othe. I'D of the hall
had just gone thr . the clothes OF
party from Vermodt, who claimed
rebate on the ground that the waiter
refused to bring Kim anything but his
bill. There was no sound in the din
ing room but the weak request of the
coffee for more air and stimulants. or
perhaps the cry of pain when the but
ter, while practicing with the dumb
ellis, would hit a child on the head,
then all would be still again.
General Sherman sat at one end Of
the table, throwing life-preserver to
a fly in the milk-pitcher.
We had never met before, though for
years we had been plodding along
life's rugged way-he in the war de-
partment, l in the postoffice depart
ment. Unknown to each other We had
been holding up opposite corners OF
the great national fabric, if you will
allow me that expression.
remember, as well as though it
vas but yesterday, how the conversa-
ton began. General Sherman looked
sternly at me and said:
Il wish you would oyerpower that
butter and send it up this way"
''All right" said |, IF you will
please pass those molasses.
That was all that was said, but l
shall never forget il, and probably he
never will. II conversation was
brief, but yet w full of food for
thought! He's true, how earnest, how
natural! Nathng slilted or false about
it.
remember once. Il great while ago,
l was asked by friend TO go with him
in the evening 10 the house of an ac-
quaiptance. where they We're going to
have kind of musicale, at which
there was to be some noted pianist,
who had kindly consented to play q
few strains. | did not get the name of
the professional, but l went. and
when the first piece was announced l
saw the light was very uncertain, so |
kindly volunteered to get a lamp from
another room. | held that big lamp,
weighing about twenty-nine pounds,
for half an hour, while the pianist
would tinky sinky upon the right hand,
or bang. boomy to bang bang, down
on the bass, while he snorted and slug
ged that old concert grand piano
almost knocked its teeth down its
throat, or gently dwadled with the
keys like pale moonbeam simmering
through the bleached rafters of de-
ceased horse. until at last there was
wild janrle, such as the accomplished
musician gives to an instrument to
show the audience that he has dis
abled the piano, and will take slight
intermission while it is sent to the
junk shop.
With sigh of relief carefully put
down the twenty-nine pound lamp, and
my friend told me that l had been
standing there like liberty enlighten-
ing the world, and holding that heavy
lamp Tor Blind Tom.
had never seen him before, and /
Slipped out of the room before he had
a chance to see me- bttt Nye.