Jack knew him well, as he had been with him in the first preliminary survey for the northern Pacific Railroad, when he drove old Sitting Bull back to the Powder River.
He was now about to reach the age of retirement; and as the day approached, that day when a man has reached the limit of his usefulness (in the opinion of an ever-wise Government), that day which sounds the knell of active service, that day so dreaded and yet so longed for, that day when an army officer is sixty-four years old and Uncle Sam lays him upon the shelf, as that day approached, the city of San Antonio, in fact the entire State of Texas poured forth to bid him Godspeed; for if ever an army man was beloved, it was General Stanley by the State of Texas.
Now on the other side of the great quadrangle lay the post, where were the soldiers' barracks and quarters of the line officers.

This was commanded by Colonel Coppinger, a gallant officer, who had fought in many wars in many countries.
He had his famous regiment, the Twenty-third Infantry, and many were the pleasant dances and theatricals we had, with the music furnished by their band; for, as it was a time of peace, the troops were all in garrison.
Major Burbank was there also, with his well-drilled Light Battery of the 3rd Artillery.
My husband, being a Captain and Quartermaster, served directly under General George H.Weeks, who was Chief Quartermaster of the Department, and I can never forget his kindness to us both.

He was one of the best men I ever knew, in the army or out of it, and came to be one of my dearest friends.

He possessed the sturdy qualities of his Puritan ancestry, united with the charming manners of an aristocrat.
We belonged, of course, now, with the Staff, and something, an intangible something, seemed to have gone out of the life.

The officers were all older, and the Staff uniforms were more sombre.