of thought, who meet at brief intervals at
one another's houses, perhaps listen to a paper, and wind up with
a supper. When or how the Washington Club originated, I do not know,
but it was probably sometime during the fifties. Its membership seems
to have been rather ill defined, for, although I have always been
regarded as a member, and am mentioned in McCulloch's book as such,
[1] I do not think I ever received any formal notice of election.
The club was not exclusively scientific, but included in its list the
leading men who were supposed to be interested in scientific matters,
and whose company was pleasant to the others. Mr. McCulloch himself,
General Sherman, and Chief Justice Chase are examples of the members
of the club who were of this class.

It was at the club meetings that I made the acquaintance of General
Sherman. His strong characteristics were as clearly seen at these
evening gatherings as in a military campaign. His restlessness
was such that he found it hard to sit still, especially in his
own house, two minutes at a time. His terse sentences, leaving
no doubt in the mind of the hearer as to what he meant, always
had the same snap. One of his military letters is worth reviving.
When he was carrying on his campaign in Georgia against Hood, the
latter was anxious that the war should damage general commercial
interests as little as possible; so he sent General Sherman a letter
setting forth the terms and conditions on which he, Hood, would
refrain from burning the cotton in his line of march, but leave it
behind,--at as great length and with as much detail as if it were
a treaty of peace between two nations. Sherman's reply was couched
in a single sentence: "I hope you will burn all the cotton you can,
for all you don't burn I will." When he introduced two people,
he did not simply mention their names, but told who each one was.
In introducing the adjutant-general to another officer who had just
come into Washington, he added, "You know his signature."

Mr. McCulloch, who succeeded Mr. Chase as Secretary of the Treasury,
was my beau ideal of an administrator. In his personal make-up,
he was as completely the opposite of General Sherman as a man
well could be. Deliberate, impassive, heavy of build, slow in
physical movement, he would have been supposed, at first sight,
a man who would take life easy, and concern himself as little
as possible about public affairs. But, after all, there is a
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