William A. Crafts, Life of Ulysses S. Grant: His Boyhood, Campaigns, and Services, Military and Civil.

[69] of his victory; but he could pardon something to chagrin and wounded vanity; and while the vanquished Pemberton and his fellows continued sitting, the victor stood, quietly and courteously talking, till his business with the rebel chief was finished.

Through all the long campaign against Vicksburg, Grant had felt sure of ultimate success. His greatest anxiety — which, even then, did not amount to a doubt — was when he was contending against unnumbered difficulties and obstacles in his efforts to reach the enemy, and the country was becoming impatient at the tedious delays. But when he found that his long-contemplated movement could be made, he was no longer anxious, except to get his troops forward. He never doubted the result; he was confident of victory. His confidence then, as in all his campaigns, amounted almost to fatalism; but it was a confidence born not of blind egotism, or a superstitious belief in inevitable destiny, but of indefatigable effort and unyielding tenacity of purpose. When Sherman and McPherson advised against the movement, he was too confident to listen to their fears. When McClernand's inefficiency gave the rebels time to baffle his first plans, his confidence was not abated; but changing the details, he was never doubtful of reaching the end he aimed at. An incident during the siege illustrates the same confidence, and reveals its character.

As he was one day riding around his lines, he stopped for water at a house in which, notwithstanding its exposure, a rebel woman continued to live. Like most of her class, she was a bitter hater of the Yankees, and a thorough believer in the chivalry. Learning