the adjutant-general and other staff officers was positively wrong and should be stopped.  Speaking of General Grant’s personal characteristics at that period of his life, I recall a conversation in his carriage, when, riding down Pennsylvania Avenue, he, inquired of me in a humorous way, “Sherman, what special hobby do you intend to adopt?” I inquired what he meant, and he explained that all men had their special weakness or vanity, and that it was wiser to choose one’s own than to leave the newspapers to affix one less acceptable, and that for his part he had chosen the “horse,” so that when anyone tried to pump him he would turn the conversation to his “horse.”  I answered that I would stick to the “theatre and balls,” for I was always fond of seeing young people happy, and did actually acquire a reputation for “dancing,” though I had not attempted the waltz, or anything more than the ordinary cotillon, since the war.

On the 24th of February, 1869, I was summoned to Washington, arriving on the 26th, taking along my aides, Lieutenant-Colonels Dayton and Audenried.

On the 4th of March General Grant was duly inaugurated President of the United States, and I was nominated and confirmed as General of the Army.

Major-General P. H. Sheridan was at the same time nominated and confirmed as lieutenant-general, with orders to command the Military Division of the Missouri, which he did, moving the headquarters from St. Louis to Chicago; and General Meade was assigned to command the Military Division of the Atlantic, with headquarters at Philadelphia.

At that moment General Meade was in Atlanta, Georgia, commanding the Third Military District under the “Reconstruction Act;” and General Thomas, whose post was in Nashville, was in Washington on a court of inquiry investigating certain allegations against General A. B. Dyer, Chief of Ordnance.  He occupied the room of the second floor in the building on the corner of H and Fifteenth Streets, since become Wormley’s Hotel.  I at the time was staying with my brother, Senator Sherman, at his residence, 1321 K Street, and it was my habit each morning to stop at Thomas’s room on my way to the office in the War Department to tell him the military news, and to talk over matters of common interest.  We had been intimately associated as “man and boy” for thirty-odd years, and I profess to have had better opportunities to know him than any man then living.  His fame as the “Rock of Chickamauga” was perfect, and by the world at large he was considered as the embodiment of strength, calmness, and imperturbability.  Yet of all my acquaintances Thomas worried and fretted over what he construed neglects or acts of favoritism more than any other.