In the vast mass of letters, papers, etc., left by Mr. McCormick, there is one mention, and only one, of recreation. After his first visit to the West, in 1844, he wrote to one of his brothers and described a hunting trip in which he shot three prairie chickens near Beloit. But during the rest of his life, he was too busy for sport. His energy was the wonder of his friends and the despair of his employees. His brain was not quick. It was not marvellously keen nor marvellously intuitive. But it was at work every waking moment, like a great engine that never tires. "He was the most laborious worker I ever saw," said one of his secretaries. One of the words that annoyed him most was _to-morrow_. He wanted things done to-day. With regard to every important piece of work, it was his instinct to "do it now." He abhorred delay and dawdling. Even as a boy, when sent on an errand, he would set off upon a run. Walking was too slow. And although he was in France on many occasions, the French phrase that he knew best was "_Depechez-vous_." His plan of work, so far as he could be said to have a plan, was this--_One Thing at a Time, and the Hardest Thing First_. He followed the line of _most_ resistance. If the hardest thing can be done, he reasoned, all the rest will follow. And as for all work that was merely routine, he left as much as possible of it to others. He was not an organizer so much as a creator and a pioneer. His problem was not like that which troubles the business men of to-day. He was not grappling with the evils of competition, nor with the higher questions of efficiency and "community of interest." He was making a business that had not existed. He was clearing away obstacles that are now wholly forgotten. Consequently, as each new difficulty appeared, he had to consider it in all its details. He could not pass it over to Lieutenant Number One or Lieutenant Number Two. McCormick was like a general who was leading an army into an unknown country rather than like the business man of the twentieth century, who can travel by time-table and schedule. When an obstacle blocked his path, it had to be removed; and until it was out of the way, nothing else mattered. Thus it was impossible for McCormick to have business hours. Once his mind had applied itself to a problem, he cared nothing for clocks and watches. Sometimes he would work on through the night, hour after hour, until the gray light of another day shone in the window. On all these arduous occasions, he had no idea of time, and he would allow no distractions nor interruptions. So rigid was this grasp of his mind that if his body rebelled and he fell asleep, he would invariably when he woke take up the matter in hand at the exact point at which it had been left. Not even sleep could detach his mind from a task that was unfinished.