which have been preserved shows a surprisingly artistic touch.

Graduation day at the Academy brought no distinguished honors to
Grant, where he stood twenty-first in a class of thirty-nine, but
it did win him one small triumph. As almost everyone knows, the
West Point cadets are trained for all arms of the service, sometimes
doing duty as infantry, sometimes as artillery and at other times
acting as engineers or cavalry; and during the closing week of the
year, they give public exhibitions of their proficiency before the
official visitors. On this particular occasion the cavalry drill
was held in the great riding hall, and after the whole corps
had completed their evolutions and were formed in line ready to
be dismissed, the commanding officer ordered an extraordinarily
high hurdle to be placed in position, and while the great throng
of spectators were wondering what this meant they heard the sharp
command, "Cadet Grant."

A young man of slight stature, not weighing more than a hundred
and twenty pounds, and mounted on a powerful chestnut horse, sprang
from the ranks with a quick salute, dashed to the further end of
the hall and, swinging his mount about, faced the hurdle. There
was a moment's pause and then the rider, putting spurs to his steed,
rushed him straight at the obstruction and, lifting him in masterly
fashion, cleared the bar as though he and the animal were one. A
thunder of applause followed as the horseman quietly resumed his
place in the ranks, and after the corps had been dismissed Grant
was sought out and congratulated on his remarkable feat. But his
response was characteristic of the boy that was, and the man that
was to be. "Yes, 'York' is a wonderfully good horse," was all he
said.