“On that memorable day in July, 1866, when victory and defeat hung for hours in the balance, I was filled with disquietude and apprehension. I rode up to Moltke, who sat on his horse like a statue, following every movement of the battle. To talk to him was impossible; but I had in my case two cigars left, a good one and a bad one. Without a word I offered the case to Moltke, and without a word he took it, examined the two cigars and selected the good one. This was enough encouragement for me, for I said to myself, if the General can so calmly select the better cigar, our chances must be good.” His Winter Wheat Directly after the declaration of war, in 1870, an old friend met Count Moltke on the street, and remarked: “You must be overburdened with work just now!” “Oh no,” was the cold-blooded answer, “the work was all done beforehand. All orders are issued, and I have really nothing to do!” A few minutes later, he met a merchant, with whom he had done business at Kreisau, who asked him anxiously about the outlook. “Well,” said the old Field-Marshal in his mildest tone, “I am quite content; my barley crop, it is true, was only middling, but my crop of winter wheat promises to be immense and that, as you know, is the main thing.” Looked Like One of Them Once, while Moltke was at Ragaz for his health, he walked alone through the woods to the village Pfäfers. It was very warm and he was thirsty, so he went into the village inn and asked for a drink. The host sat down by him and began: “I suppose you are a guest at Ragaz?” “Yes.” “They say Moltke is there too!” “Yes.” “How does he look?” “Well, how should he look? Just like one of us two.” Wig Instead of Handkerchief It was at Meaux, the night before the siege of Paris began. All the Chiefs and Generals of the different divisions of the army, were assembled in the Field-Marshal’s quarters, discussing plans and studying maps and charts. It was two o’clock in the morning; a big fire was burning in the grate; the room was intensely warm. Moltke, so one of the officers tells us, was in a long dressing gown, without his wig, was walking up and down, deeply engrossed in thought. The heat made the perspiration stream down our faces. Suddenly one of us looked up to ask the Field-Marshal a question, but stopped short and drew the attention of the others to what he saw. The General, too, had found it necessary to wipe the perspiration from his face, but in his preoccupation he had not noticed, that in passing his night-table, he had picked up his wig instead of his handkerchief and was vigorously wiping his face with it. He kept it up for some time, looking so exceedingly funny that we broke into shouts of laughter. When we explained, he joined in our mirth. CHAPTER XIII _Students in the Fatherland_ Obvious Professor:—“The old Greeks built their theatres in such a way that the spectators sat in an uncovered space.”