to the west front, I had before me a contrast in a brilliant group
marshalled by my friend and classmate Colonel Theodore Lyman, in
the centre of which rose the stately figure in full uniform of
Major-General Meade. "Ah, Jimmy," said Theodore with the aggressive
geniality which his old associates so well remember, "come right
here," and catching me by the arm he pulled the corporal into the
immediate presence of the victor of Gettysburg. "This is Corporal
Hosmer," said he, "and this, Jimmy, is Major-General Meade,"
introducing us with much friendly patting of my shoulder and a
handling of the Major-General almost equally familiar. He had long
been a trusted member of Meade's staff but the war was over and a
close friendship held them on common ground. "He has written a book,
General, about the war." Then came a word of commendation and the tall
General, as he gave my hand a cordial pressure, beamed down upon me
with pleasant eyes. In the peaceful time that had come, we were all
citizens together; the private and the General were on a level, though
that aquiline face had been called upon not long before to confront,
at the head of one hundred thousand men, the hosts of Lee.

Of our other great commanders I never saw Thomas, but my knowledge of
Sherman was something more than the mere glimpse I had of the figures
of his compeers. His home was in St. Louis, in which city I was then
residing, and he was much in society. He was really a Connecticut
Yankee though transplanted to Ohio, and he was, in figure and
character, thoroughly a New Englander. He was tall and slender, his
prominent forehead standing out from light straight hair, a stubby
beard veiling a well-pronounced and well-worked jaw (for he was one of
the readiest of talkers), it would require little scratching to get
to the uncontaminated Yankee underneath. A New Englander of the best
type, shrewd, kindly, deeply concerned for the welfare of his country