JOHN H. GRELAND, C. J. COUTS, ISAAC F. QUINBY, N. ETTING, R. S. RIPLEY, GEORGE STEVENS, G. DESHON, F. T. DENT, HENRY F. CLARK, J. H. POTTER, R. HAZLETT, HENRY M. JUDAH, W. K. VAN BOKKELEN, GEORGE C. MCCLELLAND, U. H. GRANT, C. G. MERCHANT, J. JONES REYNOLDS, L. NEILL, JOHN PRESTON JOHNSTON, J. J. PECK, H. R. SELDON, A. CROZET, F. GARDNER, L. B. WOODS, T. L. CHADBOURNE, E. HOWE, S. G. FRENCH, J. C. MCFERREN, RUFUS INGALLS, W. B. FRANKLIN, JOSEPH ASFORDD, West Point, April 15, 1843. To explain this _boycott_ I copy a letter from Gen Rufus Ingalls to Gen. Isaac F. Quinby, sent to me by the latter when he received it. Quinby's familiar name was "Nykin." PORTLAND, OREGON, September 16, 1889. _My Dear "Nykin:"_ Your letter surprised me most joyously. I was thinking of you constantly and lovingly. Do not give up. Let us _live_ to the last possible hour. I hope to meet you this fall--late perhaps. I came here two years ago to stay three months, and here I am! I have had a "monkey and parrot time of it," as these slips[3] will only partially disclose. Read them at leisure. But I am now booming in luck, ... and I expect to save some money out of the wreck for myself and pretty wards. But what a fight all alone for it! I am robust, never better. Habits perfect; fact. Why not at 70? Did we not cut old DeWitt because he caused some of us to be reported? How is Hamilton? Write me, dear "Nykin." Nail your flag high up, and don't regard dark clouds. Very affectionately, RUFUS. Gen. Quinby, Rochester, N. Y. My dear, good Rufus! How I recall the many happy days we have passed together! My love for you was like unto Jonathan's for David, and you have gone and left me, gone to your long home. Yet I can see you now. I can see you at the card table having "fun" even though the "time be 4 A.M." There always was mirth when Ingalls was present. He was the prince of good fellows; ever cheerful, never selfish, full of quaint humor, and was wont to "set the table in a roar." There is a story related of him that runs in this way: One night in the spring of 1865 at City Point Grant and staff were sitting around their camp fire. Conversation had lapsed into silence, which after a while was suddenly broken by Grant exclaiming: "Ingalls, do you expect to take that yellow dog of yours into Richmond with you?" "O yes, General, he belongs to a _long life_ breed," was Ingalls's sober reply. Silence returned, but there were sides ready to burst with suppressed laughter.