When half a score and five years old, U-lys-ses was sent to Mays-ville, Ken-tuck-y, not far off, to a school of high grade. The man who taught him, then, was col-lege bred and made a strong mark on the lad. Notes kept at that time state that "H. U. Grant ranks high in all class-es; de-port-ment the best."
At a club in that town young Grant took part in talk on themes of the day and most times was on the side that won. He was but one year at this school and then went home to work in the old way. One day his fa-ther said:
"U-lys-ses you'll have to go to the beam-room and help me to-day."
That place was one the boy did not like. He had been kept out of it up to this time. There he must scrape and stretch hides, the smell of which made him sick.
Then U-lys-ses told his fa-ther that he would work for him till he was of age, but that he did not like the hide trade and did not want to take it for his own. The good fa-ther at once said:
"My son, I don't want you to work at it now, if you don't like it, and don't mean to stick to it. What do you think you would like?"
"I could farm, or trade down the stream, or learn from books."
Times were "close" just then, and to send the boy to a pay school more was not to be thought of. Jes-se Grant kept this in mind and said: "How would you like to go to West Point?"
"First-rate" said U-lys-ses.
Jes-se Grant had in his veins the blood of kin who fought in the wars of our land, and he felt that West Point
