The general was a picture of wrath; the lines in his forehead standing out plainly, his mouth shut more tightly and grimly than ever.

It was evident that he was furiously angry, and his face had in it something terrible from his rage.

The young officer stood before him now, white and frightened to death.
"I saw him this way at Kip's Landing," whispered Hamilton to Seymour.
"Look! he has lost control of himself completely, there will be an explosion sure." The general struggled for a moment, and then broke away.
"Impracticable, sir! impracticable!" he roared out in a voice of thunder.

"How dare you say what this army can or can not do! And what do you mean by not crossing the river and ascertaining the facts I desire to know!" The next moment he stepped forward and, seizing a heavy leaden inkstand from the table near him, threw it with all his force full at the man, crying fiercely,-- "Damnation, sir! Be off and send me a _man_." The officer dodged the missile, which struck the wall with a crash, saluted, and ran out of the door as if his life depended on it; feeling in his heart that he would face any danger rather than brave another storm of wrath like that he had just sustained.

The general continued to pace up and down the room restlessly for a few moments, until he recovered his composure.
"I depended upon that information, and I must have it," he soliloquized.