When the war was over, General Thomas advised him to study and make a man of himself. He studied at West Point, but on account of his size he could not enter as a cadet. In 1890 he weighed one hundred and five pounds and was only five feet high. His wife, Annita, the daughter of General Wm. H. French, U.S.A., is also small and delicate, weighing about seventy pounds. General Grant commissioned him as a lieutenant. He is now captain of the twenty-fourth U.S. Infantry, and is stationed at Columbus, Ohio, and holds the important office of depot quartermaster and commissary. He has one son living, who is very like him, only he will be larger. From recent correspondence he seems to be the same kindly, great-hearted Johnnie as when I first met him at Chattanooga, Tenn. ARMY TRICKS. There were many tricks played on the officers, just for the fun of the thing, during the war, especially if the troops remained long at any one camping-place. In one of the many camps of the Union soldiers, an odd trick was played off on the surgeon and chaplain of a regiment noted for its merry-making. The troops were camped by a small stream, over which was a narrow, rickety bridge. Just across from the camp was a log cabin, in which lived an old woman alone. The woman paid no attention to the soldiers, but went about her daily duties as though unconscious of their presence. One day some of the boys passed the cabin, and hurrying over the rickety bridge, came running into the camp with the message, “The old woman in the cabin is dying!” The chaplain and surgeon were notified. “Chaplain, hurry over quick! The old woman is dying!” The chaplain hurried over the rickety bridge as rapidly as possible; the surgeon soon followed. As the chaplain came round to the open door he saw at a glance that it was a trick, and he passed on around the house, so as to allow the surgeon to come on and bear a full share of the joke. The woman _was dyeing_. She _was over a kettle of butternut juice dyeing a lot of yarn_. When the two came back over the bridge the whole camp was in a roar of laughter over the joke. But what could be done? The men had reported a truth--the woman _was_ dyeing; so there was no redress. GENERAL GRANT’S KINDNESS. One morning during the war, coming down on the packet boat that plied between Cairo, Ill., and Columbus, Ky., I noticed a woman weeping as though her heart would break. Her calico dress and coarse blanket-shawl betokened abject poverty, and her face was hidden; and she sobbed out her anguish in a coarse bandanna handkerchief. Laying my hand gently on her shoulder, I said,-- “My dear woman, what is the matter?” “It’s my boy I’m crying about; he’s awful sick down in Tennessee, and he has writ for me to come down an’ nus him up, but the men as keeps the passes at Cairo says I can’t go.