John Harrison Wilson, The life of Charles Henry Dana

[281] It had been raining hard most of the day. The roads were rough, muddy, and slippery. The distances to be traversed were great, and the gait of Grant and his staff was too rapid for the headquarters' wagons. As a consequence they were left behind in the mountains and did not arrive till the next day. Meanwhile, Grant's horse had fallen and severely bruised his lame leg, his clothes were soaked with rain, anti both he and his staff were ravenously hungry. Although they had been taken in at Thomas's headquarters, they were not expected, and strangely enough nothing had been done to relieve their discomfort, when Dana and I arrived on the scene. Grant was sitting on one side of the fire over a puddle of water that had run out of his clothes; Thomas, glum and silent, was sitting on the other, while Rawlins and the rest were scattered about in disorder. The situation was embarrassing, but Dana and I took it in almost at a glance, and after a moment's conference with Rawlins, who had already begun to show his anger, I broke in with the remark: “General Thomas, General Grant is wet, hungry, and in pain; his wagons and camp equipage are far behind; can you not find quarters and some dry clothes for him, and direct your officers to provide the party with supper?”

This suggestive question broke the spell and brought to Thomas's serious countenance a smile of cordiality which, although belated, was followed at once by orders to Willard, his senior aide-de-camp, for rooms, dry clothes, and supper. Conversation began, and it was not long till a glow of warmth and cheerfulness prevailed. Smith and Porter came in and were presented, and before the evening closed the casual observer would not have suspected that there had been the slightest lack of cordiality in the reception which had been accorded to the weary general and his staff.

The foregoing incident was nevertheless an important one, and was followed by important consequences which