At Vicksburg Grant personally superintended the placing in position of a number of heavy guns. While the soldiers were digging out the embrasure, he stood on the top of the works, smoking his cigar, and coolly whittling a stick--the general inherits the pure tendencies of a New England Yankee from his ancestors. In this situation he was a conspicuous mark for rebel sharp-shooters, but he staid there till the guns were placed to his satisfaction, to the intense admiration of the men, who delight in exhibitions of pluck. I am of the opinion, if Grant had been whittling a stick when he was discovered and applauded at Willard's, he would have cut his fingers; for he is never intimidated except under the fire of a popular demonstration. I declare, upon my honor as a soldier and an historian, that Grant is not indifferent to the praise or blame of his fellow-citizens. I know that he is as keenly sensitive as any man living, though his will enables him to control his emotions. I have myself seen him under a fire of compliments, and studied the expression of his face. He is simply modest, even to diffidence. I never saw another man just like him in this respect. There is nothing awkward or repulsive in his manner. For my own part, I do not see how any man, whatever big thing he has done, can stand still and take the most extravagant compliments as a matter of course; and of all the great men I ever knew in public life,--and I have known many,--I have been better satisfied with Grant's conduct, in the hour of his triumph, than with that of any other. I cannot describe his mien or manner, because it is indescribable. Kind words move him, and I have seen the glow upon his face, hardly perceptible, it is true, but still there, indicating true greatness of soul, in that he was not "puffed up," or, even worse, was not insensible. Grant was beset with admirers; but when I consider the quality of a large portion of the crowd which gathers in any public place within the limits of the national capital,--the parasites and sycophants who strive to sun themselves in the smile of a great man,--I cannot wonder that Grant did not open his mouth to speak, even to thank the multitude for their kind appreciation. They beset him behind and before; and a man who could not make a speech on such an occasion was a miracle. "Silence was golden." With great difficulty could he make his way to his private room, where he sought shelter from the onslaught of admirers.