After Lincoln and General Grant had become personally intimate, they had many enjoyable conversations and exchanges of anecdotes.  Lincoln especially enjoyed telling the General of the various persons who had come to him with complaints and criticisms about the Vicksburg campaign.  “After the place had actually surrendered,” said the President, “I thought it was about time to shut down on this sort of thing.  So one day, when a delegation came to see me, and had spent half an hour trying to show me the fatal mistake you had made in paroling Pemberton’s army, and insisting that the rebels would violate their paroles and in less than a month confront you again in the ranks and have to be whipped all over again, I thought I could get rid of them best by telling them a story about Sykes’s dog.  ‘Have you ever heard about Sykes’s yellow dog?’ said I to the spokesman of the delegation.  He said he hadn’t.  ’Well, I must tell you about him,’ said I.  ’Sykes had a yellow dog he set great store by, but there were a lot of small boys around the village, and that’s always a bad thing for dogs, you know.  These boys didn’t share Sykes’s views, and they were not disposed to let the dog have a fair show.  Even Sykes had to admit that the dog was getting unpopular; in fact, it was soon seen that a prejudice was growing up against that dog that threatened to wreck all his future prospects in life.  The boys, after meditating how they could get the best of him, finally fixed up a cartridge with a long fuse, put the cartridge in a piece of meat, dropped the meat in the road in front of Sykes’s door, and then perched themselves on a fence a good distance off with the end of the fuse in their hands.  Then they whistled for the dog.  When he came out he scented the bait, and bolted the meat, cartridge and all.  The boys touched off the fuse with a cigar, and in about a second a report came from that dog that sounded like a small clap of thunder.  Sykes came bouncing out of the house, and yelled:  “What’s up!  Anything busted?” There was no reply, except a snicker from the small boys roosting on the fence; but as Sykes looked up he saw the whole air filled with pieces of yellow dog.  He picked up the biggest piece he could find—­a portion of the back, with a part of the tail still hanging to it, and, after turning it around and looking it all over, he said, “Well, I guess he’ll never be much account again—­as a dog.”  And I guess Pemberton’s forces will never be much account again—­as an army.’ The delegation began looking around for their hats before I had quite got to the end of the story, and I was never bothered any more about superseding the commander of the Army of the Tennessee.”