And whether for peace or war, it was the work his nature needed for the service of his nation, for the labors of most value to his people. The beardless boy, delicate in physique, grew to be a rugged, powerful man. The outdoor life, the exposure and hardship, the struggles and suffering and self-control, the planning, the quick decisions, the control of other men had all worked together for the development of a splendid citizen. So that he was mustered out of the service at the end of the war with beard on the lips that had been smooth when he took up the musket of a private soldier, and called back to President Lincoln, in the chorus of marching Americans: “We are coming, Father Abraham—three hundred thousand strong!” And his shoulders were broader, and his muscles were harder, and his view of the whole world was essentially that of a man who had been tried by fire and not found wanting. It is fair and proper in this connection to present the testimony of those who occupied position above him, and who related in after years the impressions which young McKinley made upon them in his army days. For one thing, he was is no sense an ambitious man. Had he been stung with the asp of ambition he might easily have passed those who commanded at the beginning. His was the education, the training of the brain and the body, the judgment and the patriotic zeal out of which great leaders are made. But he was not a self-seeker. He simply accepted his duty when it presented, and discharged it perfectly. Nothing was illy done. Nothing was half accomplished. His task was fully discharged in every instance, and he was never the man to thirst for power, to maneuver for promotion. The advances which marked his soldier life came to him unsought, the well-earned rewards of a merit which none could deny, coupled with a modesty which all could admire. General Russell Hastings watched him through a number of battles, and at Cedar Creek saw him tried beyond all ordinary measure. General Hastings, then with the rank of captain, was on the same staff with young Lieutenant McKinley, a member of the same regiment, the Twenty-third Ohio. They were close friends through the war, and remained so throughout their later life. They ate at the same mess, slept under the same blanket, and—when they had a tent—occupied the same tent together. It was in 1892, when William McKinley loomed large because of his loyalty to a friend in political life, that General Hastings placed upon record his recollections—forever stamped upon the pages of his memory—of an incident from the soldier life of his friend in that battle which began with “Sheridan twenty miles away.”