What General Sheridan Feared

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D.C. · Nov 7, 1907

What General Sheridan Feared

Two grave, quiet-looking men stood on the steps of a big house in Washington some years ago. They were watching four bright children get into a cart and drive down the street, throwing back kisses and “good-by” to papa and papa’s friend, the general.

The younger man and father was General Phil Sheridan—“Fighting Phil,” as he was called in those days. Another general, an old friend, said, “Phil, how do you manage your little army of four?”

“Don’t manage; they are mischievous soldiers, but what good comrades! All the good there is in me they bring out. Their little mother is a wonderful woman, and worth a regiment of officers. John, I often think what pitfalls are in waiting for my small, brave soldiers all through life. I wish I could always help them over.”

“Phil, if you could choose for your little son from all the temptations which will beset him the one most to be feared, what would it be?”

General Sheridan leaned his head against the doorway, and said, soberly: “It would be the curse of strong drink. Boys are no saints. We are all self-willed, may be full of courage and thrift and push and kindness and charity, but woe to the man or boy who becomes a slave of liquor. O, I had rather see my little son die to-day than see him carried in to his mother drunk. One of my brave soldier boys on the field said to me just before the battle, when he gave me his message to his mother if he should be killed: ‘Tell her I kept my promise to her. Not one drink have I tasted.’ The boy was killed. I carried the message with my own lips to the mother. She said, ‘General, that is more glory for my boy than if he had taken a city.’”—Selected.