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A Father's Opinion of His Son.

In company with General Grant at the Astor House was an officer of the army, who met his father at Cincinnati just after the disasters at Shiloh, which seemed to cloud the military glory of the rising general. The disappointment was universal; it was feared that Grant's name would be added to the long roll of generals who had failed.

A large company was present when the old man was introduced. He was quite advanced, and looked like a plain farmer; quite shrewd he was, and he had unbounded confidence in his son. After some complimentary things had been said, the old gentleman spoke. "Some people think that my son has not done very well at Shiloh. But they don't know Lysus. He is a great man, and the people will find him out. He will come out right, gentlemen. I know him better than anyone else. I should not be at all surprised if Lysus should yet command the armies of the United States."

The Ovation.

One of the most popular ovations ever tendered to a man was given to General Grant in this city. A self-constituted body, known afterwards as the Sparrow-grass Committee, attempted to make use of General Grant for political purposes. They went to Washington to secure the attendance of the general at the nice little private parties they had got up, by which they hoped to secure the guest to themselves. But telegraph can travel faster than steamer, and the plans of the self-constituted committee were defeated. The general came at the early hour of six in the morning. He got out of the rear car, outflanked the committee, took a private carriage, and drove to the Astor House. The levee was held at ten o'clock in the morning. In a plain citizen's dress, with an iron-gray frock coat, light vest and pants, he took his station to welcome the people. He was sunburn, and bronzed with exposure and toil. The rush was tremendous, the living tide filling all the stairs, vestibules, and windows. All around the Astor House was a surging crowd, and to gratify them he stepped upon the portico, while cheer upon cheer rent the skies. This was the first popular ovation that the general received.

The people placed his name by the side of Wellington, Napoleon, and other great captains of the world. In appearance he was not prepossessing; his face was unsympathizing, his eyes contracted, with a sleepy sort of look about them. He was a very stocky, and appeared short, though he was taller than the average of the crowd. Throughout the whole ovation he was unassuming and unaffected. He was introduced to thousands at Cooper Institute. He bowed his acknowledgments. The first citizens gave him an elegant dinner. In answer tot he call for a speech, he simply said, "I thank you for your kindness." Through all the war he has been distinguished for his affection for his soldiers. After his long reception of several hours he retired to his couch for a little rest. He had scarcely lain down before he was told that a Massachusetts regiment, on its way home from the war, was front of the Astor, waiting to pay him a salute. He would not have left his couch for all the kings of Europe. But he instantly rose, and went to the balcony of the hotel. There he saw his boys who had been with him on the Potomac, drawn up in line, with their tattered banners, immediately in front of the main entrance. They were surrounded by full ten thousand people. On his appearance the boys were nearly frantic. They shouted, they yelled, threw their caps up in the air, and some of them attempted to get at him by climbing up the columns of the Astor House porch. The sight drew tears to the general's eyes as the column moved onward nearer home.

Mrs. Grant

This lady accompanied the general, and participated in the ovation. She won all hearts by her modest deportment. She is very domestic in her habits, and finds little pleasure in being gazed at by the crowd. She held a levee for the ladies who called on her. Some one asked her how long she was to remain in New York. She said, "We shall leave tomorrow morning for Washington." The inquirer suggested that perhaps they would be induced to stay another day. Mrs. Grant replied, "No. The general says he shall leave tomorrow morning; he is a very obstinate man; you cannot change him." She spoke with the utmost simplicity of the change in her social position, and the new life to which she was called. She said she was not such a wife as Mr. Grant, as she called him, ought to have; "had he only married my sister, she would have been suited to our new position."

General Grant in Private Life.

Few men are better informed, or have better ability to express themselves, than General Grant, when he chooses so to do. His reticence is not the result of diffidence. A senator called upon him not long since, in Washington, and before he had a chance to talk on political subjects General Grant introduced his horses, and consumed the whole interview in talking about them. As he left the War Department, a friend met the senator, and said to him, "So you have had an interview with General Grant. What do you think of him?" "H don't know anything but horse," said the senator; "he talked about it all the time." I was in the department when General Grant was told of t his. He said, "Yes, I did talk horse to him: I understand horse, and I think he understands the subject better than politics, so I talked about what we both understood." The chairman of one of the most important committees in the Senate told me that he was riding from New York to Washington in the cars when General Grant was on the train. He came and sat down beside the senator, opened the subject of the national finances, urged retrenchment, and gave his views on the subject as if finance had been the study of his lifetime.

He is very decided in his opinions, and resolute when his mind is made up. While at the levee he wrote his name on a few cards. He handed his pencil to a friend, and said, "I will write no more." "Just one more! just one more!" was cried out on the right hand and the left. At Governor Fenton's levee, General Grant attended as a guest. The people shouted "A speech! a speech!" and would listen to no one else, not even Governor Fenton. The governor urged the general to say a few words, as the easiest way to satisfy the crowd. "There are not men enough in New York to make me speak tonight," was the response at the splendid dinner given him. He sat in the centre of Congressmen and distinguished persons. He spoke but one word during the whole dinner. An engineer spoke of a river that the army crossed, and said it was thirteen feet wide. General Grant lifted his finger, and said "fourteen." Some one congratulated him on his relief from the responsibilities of war. The general said he would rather be with his army than at a public dinner. General Grant's father visited him at Vicksburg just after its surrender. He saw the carcasses of thousands of cattle and horses that lay dead on the field. As a manufacturer of leather, he thought what a fine speculation was before him! He went to his son, and asked for an order to gather the skins. To a friend the old man said, "And what do you think Lysus said? Why, he told me I had better go home and attend to my own business, and not be speculating on the battle-field, and compromising him with the government." His war horse was a small black palfrey, to which he seemed fondly attached. The horse seems fit only for a lady to ride. He was agile, slender-limbed, and suitable only for a toy for children. "That horse," said the general, "is the most remarkable horse I have ever seen. He is an imported blood horse. Jeff Davis brought him over from Europe. He came from his plantation. I have ridden him in all my campaigns. His endurance is amazing. I have taken him out at daylight, and ridden him till evening, and found him as fresh as when he was saddled. His intelligence is amazing; he knows more than some men. Gold could not buy him."

In speaking of his habits, the general said he was a great sleeper. To keep him in good working order, he wanted nine hours of solid sleep; he could use fourteen, but nine he must have. When in command out west he could only sleep seven hours, and he found himself breaking down. While in New York with General Grant, Speaker Colfax related a characteristic anecdote. The House of Representatives had invited General Grant to visit their chamber, where he was received with all honors. He was greatly embarrassed, and his position was a painful one. Calls from all parts of the House required the general to take the speaker's desk, that he might be seen. The speaker took him by the arm and led him up to the desk. After standing there a few moments, General Grant, in the tone of a school-boy put on a platform for punishment, and with a most imploring look, said, "Mr. Speaker, may I now go down?" He was so evidently distressed that his friends could not think of detaining him one moment longer in that prominent position.

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