JULY 12th.—The colonel’s temper is as variable as an April day—now all smiles and sunshine, but by-and-by a cloud takes all away. He becomes impatient with a long-winded story, told by some business applicant—and storms whenever any one asks him if the Secretary is in.
To-day, for the first time, I detected a smile on the lip of Col. Myers, the Quartermaster-General, as he passed through the office. A moment after, Gen. Walker, of Georgia, came in, and addressed the colonel thus:
“Is the Secretary in?”
Col. (with a stare). I don’t know.
Gen. W. (returning the stare). Could you not ascertain for me? I have important business with him; and am here by appointment.
Col. B. You can ascertain for yourself. I am not his door-keeper. There is his door.
Gen. W. (after a moment’s reflection). I asked you a civil question in a courteous manner, and have not deserved this harshness, and will not submit to it.
Col. B. It is not courteous to presume I am acting in the capacity of a messenger or door-keeper.
Just then the Secretary appeared at the door, having heard the loud language, and Gen. W. immediately entered his office.
Afterward the colonel fumed and fretted like an angry volcano. He disliked Col. Myers, and believed he had sent the general in under prompting to annoy him about the Secretary, whom he (Myers) really hated.