Where are McClellan, Fremont, Buell, Rosecrans, Pope, Hooker, Burnside? I believe that the country owes them all a debt of gratitude for what they did in the war, and ought to forgive them for what they did not do. All of them were placed in positions to achieve the high eminence which Grant reached. It is no discredit to them that they did not succeed in them. I am not willing to believe that it was their fault that they failed, even while each of them may justly be held responsible for his own mistakes. I only wish to show that each of them had, if not a fair chance, at least the same chance that Grant had; certainly none of them was more maligned, none of them more savagely treated by politicians and evil advisers in Washington. If some of them were not trusted as long as Grant, it was only because they did not exhibit abilities which gave the same promise of ultimate success. Grant was no accidental hero. I have followed him through the struggles of his brilliant career, and I declare upon my sacred honor as a soldier and an historian, that never a success did he win which he did not work for. Behold him at Donelson, threading his way, in the cold blasts of that bitter storm, among his weary, freezing soldiers, day after day and night after night, wresting victory from the opposing elements! Could it have been an accident that he won that brilliant victory, after the herculean labor he personally performed, after the severe sufferings which he personally endured, after the savage fighting in which he personally engaged? Was it an accident, that, in the midst of disaster, he gave the startling order to charge upon the enemy's strong works, and made fighting men out of soldiers demoralized and defeated? Behold him in the Vicksburg campaign, standing up by the might of his potent will, and against the advice of all his trusted generals, cutting loose from his supplies, and fighting battle after battle, till the foe was driven within his stronghold! Was this success an accident? See him sleeping on the ground with his faithful soldiers, with no covering but the stars; see him marching by day and watching by night, attending to the minutest details of the commissary and the quartermaster! Every success was wrung from opposing elements, and carried through over the most stupendous obstacle. See him, partially disabled, with his head pillowed upon a stump, in the pelting rain, after the hard-fought day at Shiloh, exhausted by his superhuman labors, stealing an hour of rest to keep him alive for the duties of another day--see him, and declare that accidental heroes are not made after this fashion! Go with him, crippled in body, and worn out with suffering on a sick bed, to the gloom of defeat and starvation at Chattanooga! Follow him as he moves about on his crutches through the streets of that beleaguered town, bringing light out of darkness, joy and victory out of misery and disaster. Not thus do accidental heroes soar to sublime heights.