I had the pleasure, as a representative of the Troy _Daily Times_, to accompany the Grant family from Albany to Saratoga about the middle of June, 1885. It was, indeed, a pleasure to meet the hero of Appomattox again, but the heart of the soldier who had served under Grant from the Wilderness to Appomattox and had been present when the surrender took place, was saddened to find the old warrior only a shadow of his former self. Only once on the trip to Mount MacGregor did the general display any of that martial spirit that twenty years before had animated the commander-in-chief and inspired his gallant army. It was at Saratoga Springs during his transfer from the palace coach on which he traveled from New York to Saratoga to the car that was to convey him up the mountain to MacGregor. The Grand Army veterans and the local national guard company gave the distinguished visitor a military salute. The general raised himself on his crutches, took in the situation at a glance, and as he acknowledged the salute with his hand, the old-time light came into the eye, and the foremost general of modern times was recognized in the person of the almost helpless invalid. Thursday, July 23, 1885, the news of the brave general and honored ex-President's death was flashed over the wires from the top of Mount MacGregor, and a whole nation was in mourning. Old soldiers met in the streets and grasped each other by the hand. “The old commander's dead,” was about all they could say; their sorrow was too deep for words. From all sections of the Union, and from across the ocean messages of condolence and sympathy were sent to the bereaved family at MacGregor. I attended the funeral of the dead hero at Mount MacGregor, Tuesday, August 4, 1885. Of the pallbearers two, Buckner and Joe Johnston, had fought under the stars and bars, while Sherman and Sheridan had been the deceased commander's most trusted lieutenants. Never before had a funeral taken place under such circumstances. The exercises were remarkably impressive. The closing verse of the beautiful hymn which was sung before the Rev. Dr. J. P. Newman began his memorial sermon seemed particularly appropriate: “When ends life's transient dream; When death's cold, sullen stream Shall o'er me roll; Blest Saviour, then in love, Fear and distress remove; O bear me safe above A ransom'd soul.” After Dr. Newman's glowing tribute came the closing hymn, led by Mrs. Whitney, soprano, of Boston, and in which the congregation joined: “Nearer, my God, to Thee, Nearer to Thee! E'en though it be a cross That raiseth me; Still all my song shall be-- Nearer, my God, to Thee! Nearer to Thee!”