It was on a charming summer morning that we quitted Frankfort on this mission.  General Grant was at Bingen, where he had arrived the evening before from Cologne.  He was accompanied by Mrs. Grant, his son Jesse Grant, and General Adam Badeau, then Consul-General at London.  Their arrival at Bingen had been so unostentatious that their presence in the town was scarcely known outside of the hotel in which they had taken rooms.  Their departure was alike unnoticed.

Our train drew up at Bingen just as a special Schnellzug with the Emperor of Germany on board swept by.  Proceeding at once to the hotel, we learned that General Grant had already left for Ruedesheim, but had possibly not yet crossed the river.  We hastened to the landing, and there found him and his party seated under some linden-trees, waiting for the ferry.  I had a package of letters for the general which had come to my care, and which, after mutual introductions, I delivered to him at once.  Tearing open and throwing away the envelopes, General Grant hastily inspected the letters and passed them to General Badeau.  By this time the Ruedesheim steamer had arrived, and we all went on board.  In a moment more the boat pushed off and turned its course up the stately river.  The rippling waters sparkled in the sunshine, and all the vine-clad hills were dressed in summer beauty.  On the right, dropping behind us, was Bingen, famous in legend and in song, and on the left, in the foreground, appeared the curious spires and roofs of Ruedesheim.  The scene was an ideal tableau, such as Byron describes, of the

        Wide and winding Rhine,
  Whose breast of waters broadly swells
Between the banks which bear the vine,
  And hills all rich with blossom’d trees,
And fields which promise corn and wine,
  And scattered cities crowning these,
Whose far white walls along them shine.

From Ruedesheim to Wiesbaden the railway follows the Rhine as far as Castel, at the mouth of the Main, opposite Mayence.  A short distance above Ruedesheim the Taunus bluffs sweep back from the river, and the garden of the Rhine valley opens out right and left.  This is the heart of the wine-growing region, and within it lie many of the most celebrated vineyards in the world.  The valley is dotted with villages whose names are famous in the Rhine-wine nomenclature, and upon a bold promontory, commanding all, the queen of the German vintage rules from the Johannisberg Schloss.

While our train bowled along, and we were discussing these various objects of interest, General Badeau discovered by accident among the letters which General Grant had given him one which had not been opened.

“The address is in the handwriting of General Sherman,” said Badeau.

“Yes,” said General Grant, glancing at the superscription, “that is from Sherman.  Read it.”

Accordingly, General Badeau read the letter aloud, and the whole company was deeply impressed with the cordiality of its friendly expressions.  In heartiest terms the letter felicitated General Grant upon the splendid receptions which had been given him, and the merited appreciation awarded him in the Old World.  The letter was that of an admiring and devoted friend rather than that of a military colleague.