part in politics, but was never a candidate for office, except, I

believe, that he was the first Mayor of Georgetown. He supported

Jackson for the Presidency; but he was a Whig, a great admirer of Henry

Clay, and never voted for any other democrat for high office after

Jackson.

My mother's family lived in Montgomery County, Pennsylvania, for several

generations. I have little information about her ancestors. Her family

took no interest in genealogy, so that my grandfather, who died when I

was sixteen years old, knew only back to his grandfather. On the other

side, my father took a great interest in the subject, and in his

researches, he found that there was an entailed estate in Windsor,

Connecticut, belonging to the family, to which his nephew, Lawson Grant

--still living--was the heir. He was so much interested in the subject

that he got his nephew to empower him to act in the matter, and in 1832

or 1833, when I was a boy ten or eleven years old, he went to Windsor,

proved the title beyond dispute, and perfected the claim of the owners

for a consideration--three thousand dollars, I think. I remember the

circumstance well, and remember, too, hearing him say on his return that

he found some widows living on the property, who had little or nothing

beyond their homes. From these he refused to receive any recompense.

My mother's father, John Simpson, moved from Montgomery County,

Pennsylvania, to Clermont County, Ohio, about the year 1819, taking with

him his four children, three daughters and one son. My mother, Hannah

Simpson, was the third of these children, and was then over twenty years

of age. Her oldest sister was at that time married, and had several

children. She still lives in Clermont County at this writing, October

5th, 1884, and is over ninety years of age. Until her memory failed her,

a few years ago, she thought the country ruined beyond recovery when the

Democratic party lost control in 1860. Her family, which was large,

inherited her views, with the exception of one son who settled in

Kentucky before the war. He was the only one of the children who

entered the volunteer service to suppress the rebellion.

Her brother, next of age and now past eighty-eight, is also still living

in Clermont County, within a few miles of the old homestead, and is as

active in mind as ever. He was a supporter of the Government during the

war, and remains a firm believer, that national success by the

Democratic party means irretrievable ruin.

In June, 1821, my father, Jesse R. Grant, married Hannah Simpson. I was

born on the 27th of April, 1822, at Point Pleasant, Clermont County,

Ohio. In the fall of 1823 we moved to Georgetown, the county seat of

Brown, the adjoining county east. This place remained my home, until at

the age of seventeen, in 1839, I went to West Point.

The schools, at the time of which I write, were very indifferent. There

were no free schools, and none in which the scholars were classified.

They were all supported by subscription, and a single teacher--who was

often a man or a woman incapable of teaching much, even if they imparted

all they knew--would have thirty or forty scholars, male and female,

from the infant learning the A B C's up to the young lady of eighteen

and the boy of twenty, studying the highest branches taught--the three

R's, "Reading, 'Riting, 'Rithmetic." I never saw an algebra, or other

mathematical work higher than the arithmetic, in Georgetown, until after

I was appointed to West Point. I then bought a work on algebra in

Cincinnati; but having no teacher it was Greek to me.

My life in Georgetown was uneventful. From the age of five or six until

seventeen, I attended the subscription schools of the village, except

during the winters of 1836-7 and 1838-9. The former period was spent in

Maysville, Kentucky, attending the school of Richardson and Rand; the

latter in Ripley, Ohio, at a private school. I was not studious in

habit, and probably did not make progress enough to compensate for the

outlay for board and tuition. At all events both winters were spent in

going over the same old arithmetic which I knew every word of before,

and repeating: "A noun is the name of a thing," which I had also heard

my Georgetown teachers repeat, until I had come to believe it--but I

cast no reflections upon my old teacher, Richardson. He turned out

bright scholars from his school, many of whom have filled conspicuous

places in the service of their States. Two of my contemporaries there

--who, I believe, never attended any other institution of learning--have

held seats in Congress, and one, if not both, other high offices; these

are Wadsworth and Brewster.

My father was, from my earliest recollection, in comfortable

circumstances, considering the times, his place of residence, and the

community in which he lived. Mindful of his own lack of facilities for

acquiring an education, his greatest desire in maturer years was for the

education of his children. Consequently, as stated before, I never

missed a quarter from school from the time I was old enough to attend

till the time of leaving home. This did not exempt me from labor. In

my early days, every one labored more or less, in the region where my

youth was spent, and more in proportion to their private means. It was

only the very poor who were exempt. While my father carried on the

manufacture of leather and worked at the trade himself, he owned and

tilled considerable land. I detested the trade, preferring almost any

other labor; but I was fond of agriculture, and of all employment in

which horses were used. We had, among other lands, fifty acres of

forest within a mile of the village. In the fall of the year choppers

were employed to cut enough wood to last a twelve-month. When I was

seven or eight years of age, I began hauling all the wood used in the

house and shops. I could not load it on the wagons, of course, at that

time, but I could drive, and the choppers would load, and some one at

the house unload. When about eleven years old, I was strong enough to

hold a plough. From that age until seventeen I did all the work done

with horses, such as breaking up the land, furrowing, ploughing corn and

potatoes, bringing in the crops when harvested, hauling all the wood,

besides tending two or three horses, a cow or two, and sawing wood for

stoves, etc., while still attending school. For this I was compensated

by the fact that there was never any scolding or punishing by my

parents; no objection to rational enjoyments, such as fishing, going to

the creek a mile away to swim in summer, taking a horse and visiting my

grandparents in the adjoining county, fifteen miles off, skating on the

ice in winter, or taking a horse and sleigh when there was snow on the

ground.

While still quite young I had visited Cincinnati, forty-five miles away,

several times, alone; also Maysville, Kentucky, often, and once

Louisville. The journey to Louisville was a big one for a boy of that

day. I had also gone once with a two-horse carriage to Chilicothe,

about seventy miles, with a neighbor's family, who were removing to

Toledo, Ohio, and returned alone; and had gone once, in like manner, to

Flat Rock, Kentucky, about seventy miles away. On this latter occasion

I was fifteen years of age. While at Flat Rock, at the house of a Mr.

Payne, whom I was visiting with his brother, a neighbor of ours in

Georgetown, I saw a very fine saddle horse, which I rather coveted, and

proposed to Mr. Payne, the owner, to trade him for one of the two I was

driving. Payne hesitated to trade with a boy, but asking his brother

about it, the latter told him that it would be all right, that I was

allowed to do as I pleased with the horses. I was seventy miles from

home, with a carriage to take back, and Mr. Payne said he did not know

that his horse had ever had a collar on. I asked to have him hitched to

a farm wagon and we would soon see whether he would work. It was soon

evident that the horse had never worn harness before; but he showed no

viciousness, and I expressed a confidence that I could manage him. A

trade was at once struck, I receiving ten dollars difference.

The next day Mr. Payne, of Georgetown, and I started on our return. We

got along very well for a few miles, when we encountered a ferocious dog

that frightened the horses and made them run. The new animal kicked at

every jump he made. I got the horses stopped, however, before any

damage was done, and without running into anything. After giving them a

little rest, to quiet their fears, we started again. That instant the

new horse kicked, and started to run once more. The road we were on,

struck the turnpike within half a mile of the point where the second

runaway commenced, and there there was an embankment twenty or more feet

deep on the opposite side of the pike. I got the horses stopped on the

very brink of the precipice. My new horse was terribly frightened and

trembled like an aspen; but he was not half so badly frightened as my

companion, Mr. Payne, who deserted me after this last experience, and

took passage on a freight wagon for Maysville. Every time I attempted

to start, my new horse would commence to kick. I was in quite a dilemma

for a time. Once in Maysville I could borrow a horse from an uncle who

lived there; but I was more than a day's travel from that point.

Finally I took out my bandanna--the style of handkerchief in universal

use then--and with this blindfolded my horse. In this way I reached

Maysville safely the next day, no doubt much to the surprise of my

friend. Here I borrowed a horse from my uncle, and the following day we

proceeded on our journey.

About half my school-days in Georgetown were spent at the school of John

D. White, a North Carolinian, and the father of Chilton White who

represented the district in Congress for one term during the rebellion.

Mr. White was always a Democrat in politics, and Chilton followed his

father. He had two older brothers--all three being school-mates of mine

at their father's school--who did not go the same way. The second

brother died before the rebellion began; he was a Whig, and afterwards a

Republican. His oldest brother was a Republican and brave soldier

during the rebellion. Chilton is reported as having told of an earlier

horse-trade of mine. As he told the story, there was a Mr. Ralston

living within a few miles of the village, who owned a colt which I very

much wanted. My father had offered twenty dollars for it, but Ralston

wanted twenty-five. I was so anxious to have the colt, that after the

owner left, I begged to be allowed to take him at the price demanded.

My father yielded, but said twenty dollars was all the horse was worth,

and told me to offer that price; if it was not accepted I was to offer

twenty-two and a half, and if that would not get him, to give the

twenty-five. I at once mounted a horse and went for the colt. When I

got to Mr. Ralston's house, I said to him: "Papa says I may offer you

twenty dollars for the colt, but if you won't take that, I am to offer

twenty-two and a half, and if you won't take that, to give you

twenty-five." It would not require a Connecticut man to guess the price

finally agreed upon. This story is nearly true. I certainly showed

very plainly that I had come for the colt and meant to have him. I

could not have been over eight years old at the time. This transaction

caused me great heart-burning. The story got out among the boys of the

village, and it was a long time before I heard the last of it. Boys

enjoy the misery of their companions, at least village boys in that day

did, and in later life I have found that all adults are not free from

the peculiarity. I kept the horse until he was four years old, when he

went blind, and I sold him for twenty dollars. When I went to Maysville

to school, in 1836, at the age of fourteen, I recognized my colt as one

of the blind horses working on the tread-wheel of the ferry-boat.

I have described enough of my early life to give an impression of the

whole. I did not like to work; but I did as much of it, while young, as

grown men can be hired to do in these days, and attended school at the

same time. I had as many privileges as any boy in the village, and

probably more than most of them. I have no recollection of ever having

been punished at home, either by scolding or by the rod. But at school

the case was different. The rod was freely used there, and I was not

exempt from its influence. I can see John D. White--the school teacher

--now, with his long beech switch always in his hand. It was not always

the same one, either. Switches were brought in bundles, from a beech

wood near the school house, by the boys for whose benefit they were

intended. Often a whole bundle would be used up in a single day. I

never had any hard feelings against my teacher, either while attending

the school, or in later years when reflecting upon my experience. Mr.

White was a kindhearted man, and was much respected by the community in

which he lived. He only followed the universal custom of the period,

and that under which he had received his own education.