<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2><SPAN name="ULYSSES_SIMPSON_GRANT" id="ULYSSES_SIMPSON_GRANT"></SPAN>ULYSSES SIMPSON GRANT</h2>
<p>Once upon a time, at Point Pleasant, a small town on the Ohio River,
there lived a young couple who could not decide how to name their first
baby. He was a darling child, and as the weeks went by, and he grew
prettier every minute, it was harder and harder to think of a name good
enough for him.</p>
<p>Finally Jesse Grant, the father, told his wife, Hannah, he thought it
would be a good plan to ask the grandparents' advice. So off they rode
from their little cottage, carrying the baby with them.</p>
<p>But at grandpa's it was even worse. In that house there were four people
besides themselves to suit. At last, the father, mother, grandfather,
grandmother, and the two aunts each wrote a favorite name on a bit of
paper. These slips of paper were all put into grandpa's tall, silk hat
which was<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</SPAN></span> placed on the spindle-legged table. "Now," said the father to
one of the aunts, "draw from the hat a slip of paper, and whatever name
is written on that slip shall be the name of my son."</p>
<p>The slip she drew had the name "Ulysses" on it.</p>
<p>"Well," murmured the grandfather, "our dear child is named for a great
soldier of the olden days. But I wanted him to be called Hiram, who was
a good king in Bible times."</p>
<p>Then Hannah Grant, who could not bear to have him disappointed,
answered: "Let him have both names!" So the baby was christened Hiram
Ulysses Grant.</p>
<p>While Ulysses was still a baby, his parents moved to Georgetown, Ohio.
There his father built a nice, new, brick house and managed a big farm,
besides his regular work of tanning leather. As Ulysses got old enough
to help at any kind of work, it was plain he would never be a tanner. He
hated the smell of leather. But he was perfectly happy on the farm. He
liked best of all to be around the horses, and before he was six years
old he<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</SPAN></span> rode horseback as well as any man in Georgetown. When he was
seven, it was part of his work to drive the span of horses in a heavy
team that carried the cord-wood from the wood-lot to the house and shop.
He must have been a strong boy, for at the age of eleven he used to hold
the plow when his father wanted to break up new land, and it makes the
arms and back ache to hold a heavy plow! He was patient with all animals
and knew just how to manage them. His father and all the neighbors had
Ulysses break their colts.</p>
<p>In the winters Ulysses went to school, but he did not care for it as
much as he did for outdoor life and work with his hands. Still he
usually had his lessons and was decidedly bright in arithmetic. Because
he was not a shirk and always told the truth, his father was in the
habit of saying, after the farm chores were done: "Now, Ulysses, you can
take the horse and carriage and go where you like. I know I can trust
you."</p>
<p>When he was only twelve, his father began sending him seventy or eighty
miles away from<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</SPAN></span> home, on business errands. These trips would take him
two days. Sometimes he went alone, and sometimes he took one of his
chums with him. Talking so much with grown men gave him an old manner,
and as his judgment was pretty good he was called by merchants a "sharp
one." He would have been contented to jaunt about the country, trading
and colt-breaking, all his life, but his father decided he ought to have
military training and obtained for him an appointment at West Point (the
United States' school for training soldiers that was started by George
Washington) without Ulysses knowing a thing about it. Now Ulysses did
not have the least desire to be a soldier and did not want to go to this
school one bit, but he had always obeyed his father, and started on a
fifteen days' journey from Ohio without any more talk than the simple
statement: "I don't want to go, but if you say so, I suppose I must."</p>
<p>He found, when he reached the school, that his name had been changed. Up
to this time his initials had spelled HUG, but<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</SPAN></span> the senator who sent
young Grant's appointment papers to Washington had forgotten Ulysses'
middle name. He wrote his full name as Ulysses Simpson Grant, and as it
would make much trouble to have it changed at Congress, Ulysses let it
stand that way. So instead of being called H-U-G Grant (as he had been
by his mates at home) the West Point boys, to tease him, caught up the
new initials and shouted "Uncle Sam" Grant, or "United States"
Grant—and sometimes "Useless" Grant.</p>
<p>But the Ohio boy was good-natured and only laughed at them. He was a
cool, slow-moving chap, well-behaved, and was never known to say a
profane word in his life. At this school there was plenty of chance to
prove his skill with horses. Ulysses was never happier than when he
started off for the riding-hall with his spurs clanking on the ground
and his great cavalry sword dangling by his side. Once, mounted on a big
sorrel horse, and before a visiting "Board of Directors," he made the
highest jump that had ever been known at West Point. He was<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</SPAN></span> as modest
as could be about this jump, but the other cadets (as the pupils were
called) bragged about it till they were hoarse.</p>
<p>After his graduation, Grant, with his regiment, was sent to the Mexican
border. In the battle of Palo Alto he had his first taste of war. Being
truthful, he confessed afterwards that when he heard the booming of the
big guns, he was frightened almost to pieces. But he had never been
known to shirk, and he not only rode into the powder and smoke that day,
but for two years proved so brave and calm in danger that he was
promoted several times. But he did not like fighting. He was sure of
that.</p>
<p>At the end of the Mexican War, Ulysses married a girl from St. Louis,
named Julia Dent, and she went to live, as soldiers' wives do, in
whatever military post to which he happened to be sent. First the
regiment was stationed at Lake Ontario, then at Detroit, and then, dear
me! it was ordered to California!</p>
<p>There were no railroads in those days. People had to go three thousand
miles on<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</SPAN></span> horseback or in slow, lumbering wagons. This took months and
was both tiresome and dangerous. Every little while there would be a
deep river to ford, or some wicked Indians skulking round, or a wild
beast threatening. The officers decided to take their regiments to
California by water. This would be a hard trip but a safer one.</p>
<p>It was lucky that Mrs. Grant and the babies stayed behind with the
grandparents, for besides the weariness of the long journey, there was
scarcity of food; a terrible cholera plague broke out, and Ulysses Grant
worked night and day. He had to keep his soldiers fed, watch out for the
Indians, and nurse the sick people.</p>
<p>Well, after eleven years of army life, Grant decided to resign from the
service. He thought war was cruel; he wanted to be with his wife and
children; and a soldier got such small pay that he wondered how he was
ever going to be able to educate the children. Farming would be better
than fighting, he said.</p>
<p>He was welcomed home with great joy.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</SPAN></span> His wife owned a bit of land, and
Grant built a log cabin on it. He planted crops, cut wood, kept horses
and cows, and worked from sunrise till dark. But the land was so poor
that he named the place Hardscrabble. Even with no money and hard work,
the Grants were happy until the climate gave Ulysses a fever; then they
left Missouri country life and moved into the city of St. Louis.</p>
<p>In this city Grant tried his hand at selling houses, laying out streets,
and working in the custom-house; but something went wrong in every place
he got. He had to move into poorer houses, he had to borrow money, and
finally he walked the streets trying to find some new kind of work.
Nobody would hire him. The men said he was a failure. Friends of the
Dent family shook their heads as they whispered: "Poor Julia, she didn't
get much of a husband, did she?"</p>
<p>Then he went back to Galena, Illinois, and was a clerk in his brother's
store, earning about what any fifteen-year-old boy gets to-day. He
worked quietly in the store all<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</SPAN></span> day, stayed at home evenings, and was
called a very "commonplace man." He was bitterly discouraged, I tell
you, that he could not get ahead in the world. And his father's pride
was hurt to think that his son who had appeared so smart at twelve could
not, as a grown man, take care of his own family. But Julia Dent Grant
was sweet and kind. She kept telling him that he would have better luck
pretty soon.</p>
<p>In 1861 the Americans began to quarrel among themselves. Several of the
States grew very bitter against each other and were so stubborn that the
President of the United States, Abraham Lincoln, said he must have
seventy-five thousand men to help him stop such rebellion. Ulysses Grant
came forward, and said he would be one of these seventy-five thousand,
and enlisted again in the United States Army. He was asked to be the
colonel of an Illinois regiment by the governor of that State. Then, you
may be sure, what he had learned at West Point came into good play. He
soon showed that he knew just how to train men into fine soldiers.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</SPAN></span> He
did so well that he was made Brigadier-general.</p>
<p>He stormed right through the enemies' lines and took fort after fort.
Oh, his work was splendid—this man who had been called a failure!</p>
<p>A general who was fighting against him began to get frightened, and by
and by he sent Grant a note saying: "What terms will you make with us if
we will give in just a little and do partly as you want us to?"</p>
<p>Grant laughed when he read the letter and wrote back: "No terms at all
but unconditional surrender!" Finally the other general did surrender,
and when the story of the two letters and the victory for Grant was
told, the initials of his name were twisted into another phrase; he was
called Unconditional Surrender Grant. This saying was quoted for months,
every time his name was mentioned. At the end of that time, he had said
something else that pleased the people and the President.</p>
<p>You see, the war kept raging harder and harder. It seemed as if it would
never end.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</SPAN></span> Grant was always at the front of his troops, watching
everything the enemy did and planned, but he grew sadder and sadder. He
felt sure there would be fighting until dear, brave Robert E. Lee, the
southern general, laid down his sword. The whole country was sad and
anxious. They said: "It is time there was a change—what in the world is
Grant going to do?" And he answered: "I am going to fight it out on this
line if it takes all summer!" No one doubted he would keep his word. It
did take all summer and all winter, too. Then, when poor General Lee saw
that his men were completely trapped, and that they would starve if he
did not give in, he yielded. Grant showed how much of a gentleman he was
by his treatment of the general and soldiers he had conquered. There was
no lack of courtesy toward them, I can tell you. When the cruel war was
ended, Grant was the nation's hero.</p>
<p>Later, Grant was made President of the United States he had saved. When
he had finished his term of four years, he was chosen for President
again. After that he traveled<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</SPAN></span> round the world. I cannot begin to tell
you the number of presents he received or describe one half the honors
which were paid him—paid to this man who, at one time, could not get a
day's work in St. Louis. This farmer from Hardscrabble dined with kings
and queens, talked with the Pope of Rome, called on the Czar of Russia,
visited the Mikado of Japan in his royal palace, and was given four
beautiful homes of his own by rich Americans. One house was in Galena,
one in Philadelphia, one in Washington, and another in New York. New
York was his favorite city, and in a square named for him you can see a
statue showing General Grant on his pet horse, in army uniform. On
Claremont Heights where it can be seen from the city, the harbor, and
the Hudson River, stands a magnificent tomb, the resting-place of the
great hero who was born in the tiny house at Point Pleasant.</p>
<p>There was always a good deal of fighting blood in the Grants. The sixth
or seventh great-grandfather of Ulysses, Matthew Grant, came to
Massachusetts in 1630, almost three<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</SPAN></span> hundred years ago; over in
Scotland, where he was born, he belonged to the clan whose motto was
"Stand Fast." I think that old Scotchman and all the other ancestors
would agree with us that the boy from Ohio stood fast. And how well the
name suited him which his aunt drew from the old silk hat—Ulysses—a
brave soldier of the olden time!</p>
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