"Good gracious!" ejaculated the chief. "Why did he not ask to be secretary of the treasury and have done with it?" Reflecting, he observed: "Well, now, I never thought that lank had anything more than average ability when we were youngsters together. But, then, I suppose, he thought the same thing about me, and yet—here I am!"

* * * * *

THEY WENT AWAY SICKER STILL.

A party were pressing the claims of a solicitor for a consulship; his particular plea that his health would be benefited by residence on these Fortunate Islands. The Lord Bountiful terminated the interview by lightly saying:

"Gentlemen, I am sorry to say that there are eight other applicants for the place—and all of them are sicker than your client!"

* * * * *

OF TWENTY APPLICANTS, NINETEEN ARE MADE ENEMIES.

Hampered, harassed, and hounded by office-seekers, the President once opened his confidence on this irritating point to a conscientious public officer. He wished the senators and others would start and stimulate public sentiment toward changes in public offices being made on good and sufficient cause—that is, plainly, never on party considerations. The ideal civil service, in a word. Nine-tenths of his vexations were due to seekers of sinecures.

"It seems to me that such visitors dart at me and, with finger and thumb, carry off a portion of my vitality," was his saying.

His hearer laughed at the image, but the other pursued earnestly:

"I have made up my mind to make very few changes in the offices in my gift for my second term. I think, now, that I shall not move a single man, except for delinquency. To remove a man is very easy, but when I go to fill his place, there are twenty applicants, and of these I must make nineteen enemies."—(Authenticated by Senator Clark, of New Hampshire, to whom the confidence was imparted.) [Footnote: Secretary Blaine, out of his similar experience, reiterated the sentiment thus: "When I choose one out of ten applicants to fill an office, I find that nine have become my enemies and one is an ingrate."]



* * * * *

RID OF AN OFFICE-SEEKER.

"There was an ignorant man," said a senator, "who once applied to Lincoln for the post of doorkeeper to the House. This man had no right to ask Lincoln for anything. It was necessary to repulse him. But Lincoln repulsed him gently and whimsically without hurting his feelings, in this way:

"'So you want to be doorkeeper to the House, eh?'

"'Yes, Mr. President.'

"'Well, have you ever been a doorkeeper? Have you ever had any experience of doorkeeping?'

"'Well, no—no actual experience, sir.'

"'Any theoretical experience? Any instructions in the duties and ethics of doorkeeping?'

"'Umh—no.'

"'Have you ever attended lectures on doorkeeping?'

"'No, sir.'

'"Have you read any text-book on the subject?'

"'No.'

"'Have you conversed with any one who has read such a book?'

"'No, sir. I'm afraid not, sir.'

"'Well, then, my friend, don't you see that you haven't a single qualification for this important post?' said Lincoln, in a reproachful tone.

"'Yes, I do,' said the applicant, and he took leave humbly, almost gratefully."—(Chicago Record-Herald.)

* * * * *

NOT GOOD OFFICES, BUT A GOOD STORY.

When Washington and its chief guardians were more sorely besieged by office-seekers than by the Confederates, a politician locally important and generally importunate was sent as a "committee of one" to headquarters to secure the loaves and fishes for his congeries. But in about a fortnight this forager came home, full of emptiness. Asked if he had not seen the President—accounted commonly as only too accessible—and why he did not get the places, he replied glumly, yet with a tinge of brightening:

"Yes, I saw the old man. He heard me state my errand, the President did. He heard me patiently all right enough; and then he said: 'I am sorry not to have any good offices for you, but—I can give you something—a good story!'

"And he went on with—

"'Once there was a certain king who kept an astrologer to forewarn him of coming events, and especially to tell him whether it was going to rain when he wished to go on hunting expeditions. One day he had started for the forest with his train of lords and ladies, when he met a farmer.

"'"Good morning, farmer," said the king.

"'"Good morning, king," said the farmer; "where are you folks going?"

"'"Hunting," said the king.

"'"Hunting! You'll all get wet," said the farmer.

"'The king trusted his astrologer and kept on, but at midday there came up a tremendous rain that drenched the king and all his party.

"'On getting back to the palace the king had the astrologer decapitated, and sent for the farmer to take his place.

"'"Law's sakes!" said the farmer, when he arrived, "it ain't me that knows when it's going to rain, it's my donkey. When it's going to be fair weather, he always carries his ears forward, so. When it's going to rain, he puts 'em backward, so."

"'"Make the donkey the court astrologer!" shouted the king.

"'It was done; but the king always declared that that appointment was the greatest mistake he ever made in his life.'

"Mr. Lincoln stopped there," said the office-seeker.

"'Why did he call it a mistake?" we asked him. 'Didn't the donkey do his duty?'

"'Yes,' said the President, 'but after that every donkey in the country wanted an office.'"

* * * * *

ENCOURAGE LONGING FOR WORK.

In 1861, the badgered President had so novel an application that he wrote the annexed note to facilitate its harvest:

"To Major Ramsey: The lady—bearer of this—says she has two sons who want to work. Set them at it, if possible. Wanting to work is so rare a merit that it should be encouraged."

* * * * *

"BUT AARON GOT HIS COMMISSION!"

To animadversion on the President appointing to a post one who had zealously opposed his reelection, he replied:

"Well, I allow that Judge E——, having been disappointed before, did behave pretty 'ugly,' but that would not make him any less fit for the place; and I think I have scriptural authority for appointing him. You remember when the Lord was on Mount Sinai getting out a commission for Aaron, said Aaron was at the foot of the mountain, making a false god for the people to worship? Yet Aaron got his commission, you know."

* * * * *

SOMETHING LINCOLNIAN ALL COULD TAKE.

When the President had an attack of spotted fever, and was told he must be immured, as it was catching, he smiled and said:

"It is a pity to shut the public off—as while every act of mine is not taken to, now I have something everybody might take!"

* * * * *

"NOT MANY SUCH BOYS OUTSIDE OF SUNDAY-SCHOOLS!"

A Boston business house was deceived in an errand boy. Fresh from the country he succumbed to temptation and robbed the mails. His father tried to get him off the penalty as the United States Government took up the case. He went to Washington and prevailed on his representative, Alexander H. Rice, to intercede for him. Rice and the President were on familiar terms. As soon as the pleader presented himself, Mr. Lincoln assumed an easy attitude, legs stretched, leaning back, and read the petition.

"Well," said he, "did you meet a man going out as you came in? His errand was to get a man out of the penitentiary, and now you come to get a boy out of jail. I am bothered to death about these pardon cases; but I am a little encouraged by your visit. They are after me on the men, but appear to be roping you in on the boys. What shall we do? The trouble appears to come from the courts. Let us abolish the courts, and I think that will end the difficulty. And it seems to me that the courts ought to be abolished, anyway, for they appear to pick out the very best men in the community and send them to the penitentiary, and now they are after the same kind of boys. I don't know much about boys in Massachusetts, but according to this petition, there are not many such boys as this one outside the Sunday-schools in other parts!"

It was settled that if a majority of the Massachusetts delegates signed the paper, a pardon would be given.—(Testified to by Honorable Alexander H. Rice, former governor of Massachusetts.)

* * * * *

THE GOOD BOY GETS ON.

According to White House etiquette, as a congressman and a senator, Wilson and Rice, called together on the President, they were admitted in company. As they were readmitted from the anteroom a boy of about twelve, on the lookout, slipped in with them. After the salutations the host became absorbed in the intruder, as he was always interested in the young.

But the two gentlemen were unable to answer the natural question:

"Who is this little boy?"

But the boy could speak for himself, and instantly said that he was "a good boy," come to Washington in the hope of becoming a page in the House of Representatives. The President began to say that Captain Goodenow, head doorkeeper there, was the proper person to make that application to, as he had nothing to do with such appointments. But the good little boy pulled out his credentials, from his folks, the squire, and the parson and schoolmaster, and they stated not only that he was good, but good to his widow mother, and wanted to help the needy family. The President called the boy up to him, studied him, and wrote on his petition:

"If Captain Goodenow can give this good boy a place, it will oblige A. LINCOLN."

(Vouched for by Alexander H. Rice, member of Congress, and ex-governor of Massachusetts.)

* * * * *

HOW McCULLOCH WAS CONSTRAINED TO SERVE.

For two arduous years Hugh McCulloch, banker of Indianapolis, served in organizing the Currency Control. He was looking forward to release and repose at the second Administration, when the renewed incumbent begged him to become secretary of the treasury. He remonstrated.

"But I could not help myself," he confessed to Janet Jennings. "Mr. Lincoln looked at me with his sad, weary eyes, and throwing his arm over my shoulder, said:

"'You must; the country needs you!'"

That was a gesture worth all the elegant tones in the elocution-books.

* * * * *

ALL MOUTH AND NO HANDS' CLASS.

"I hold if the Almighty had ever made a set of men that should do all the eating, and none of the work, He would have made them with mouths only and no hands, and if He had ever made another class that He had intended should do all the work and none of the eating, He would have made them without mouths and with all hands."—(A. Lincoln.)

* * * * *

HOT AND COLD THE SAME BREATH.

Underlaying the innate frankness, there was a deep shrewdness in President Lincoln, which fitted him to cope with the most expert politicians, albeit their vanity would not let them always or promptly acknowledge it. When Chief Justice Taney died, the President had already planned to fill up the vacancy and at the same time shelve that thorn in his side, Salmon P. Chase. But always keeping his own counsel, he was mute on that head, when an important deputation attended to recommend Chase. After hearing the address, the President asked for the engrossed memorial to be left with him.

"I want it, in order, if I appoint Mr. Chase, I may show the friends of the other persons for whom the office is solicited, by how powerful an influence and what strong recommendations I was obliged to disregard in appointing him."

This was heard with great satisfaction, and the committee were about to depart, thinking their man sure of the mark, when they perceived that the chief had not finished all he had to say.

"And," he continued, "I want the paper, also, in order that, if I should appoint any other person, I may show his friends how powerful an influence and what strong recommendations I was obliged to disregard in appointing him."

The committee departed mystified.

* * * * *

WANTED THE JAIL EARNINGS.

A Western senator bothered the President about a client of his for back pay of a dubious nature. Lincoln responded with one of his evasive answers—that is, "a little story":

"Years ago, when imprisonment for debt was legal, a poor fellow was sent to jail by his creditor, and compelled to serve out his debt at the rate of a dollar and a half a day.

"When the sentence had expired, he informed the jailer of the fact and asked to be released. The jailer insisted on keeping him four days longer. Upon making up his statement, however, he found that the man was right. The prisoner then demanded not only a receipt in full for his debt, but also payment for four days' extra service, amounting to six dollars, which he declared the county owed him. Now," concluded Lincoln, "I think that county would be about as likely to pay this man's claim as this government will be to pay your friend's claim for back pay."—(Told before Colonel Noteware, of Colorado, a Western senator, and a congressman.)

* * * * *

A TITLE NO HINDRANCE.

A German noble and military officer wished to serve as volunteer under our colors. After being welcome, he thought it expedient to unfold his family roll, so to say, but the ultra-democratic ruler gently interpolated as if he saw an apology in the recital, and soothingly observed:

"Oh, never mind that! You will find that no hindrance to your advance. You will be treated as fairly in spite of that!"

* * * * *

A TALKER WITH NOTHING TO SAY.

A reverend gentleman of prominence, M. F., of ——, was presented to the President, who resignedly had a chair placed for him, and with patient awaiting said:

"My dear sir, I am now ready to hear what you have to say."

"Why, bless you, Mr. President," stammered the other, with more apprehension than his host, "I have nothing to say. I only came to pay my respects."

"Is that all?" exclaimed the escaped victim, springing up to take the minister's two hands with gladness. "It is a relief to find a clergyman—or any other man, [Footnote: Any other man. From this frequent expression of Mr. Lincoln's, a true comedian, the "negro entertainer," Unsworth, conceived a burlesque lecture, "Or Any Other Man," with which he went around the world. The editor, passing through London, remembers his attention being called to Mr. Gladstone and other cabinet ministers, who came to the Oxford Music-hall nightly between Parliament business, to hear Unsworth, who, on such chances, introduced personal and pat allusions to the subjects debated that night.] for that matter—who has nothing to say. I thought you had come to preach to me."

* * * * *

STICK TO YOUR BUSINESS.

Among the bores who assailed the President was a Western stranger who had another plan to end the war. Lincoln listened to him all the way, and then obliged him and the crowd with a story:

"You may have heard of Mr. Bounce, of Chicago? No; well, he was a gentleman of so much leisure that he had no time to do anything! This superb loafer went to a capitalist at the time of a wheat flurry, when speculators reckoned to make fortunes, and he informed Mr. Blank Check how his project would make them both terribly rich. The reply came sharp as a bear-trap: 'My advice is that you stick to your business!'

"'But I have no business—I am a gentleman.'

"'Whatever that is, I advise you to stick to that!'

"And now, my friend," proceeded the President, "I mean nothing offensive, for I know you mean well—but I think you had better stick to your business and leave the war-threshing to those who have the responsibility."

* * * * *

MARRYING A MAN WITHOUT HIS CONSENT.

Major Hoxsey, Excelsior (N. Y.) Brigade, wounded in the Fighting Joe Hooker division, could not accept a commission in the army, but wished to be put upon the staff of the volunteers, as he could not walk. He was upheld in his desire by Adjutant-general Hamlin, who accompanied him to the President. They were both asked to sit while the authority consulted the Congressional laws. Staff appointments could not be heard by the President unless the general commanding the desired rank was approving.

"I have no more power to appoint you without that request," said the President, "than I would have to marry a woman to any man she might desire for a husband without his consent!"—(By General Charles Hamlin.)

* * * * *

"A LUXURY TO SEE ONE WHO WANTS NOTHING."

Senator Depew was secretary of New York State in 1864, under Governor Seymour. He had to wait upon President Lincoln, reelected, to harmonize the calls for men, as his State was split on the accusation that the draft favored one party above the other. His official business finished, Secretary Depew called to bid farewell. Lincoln was not holding a reception, but sitting in that study accessible to the public, that never was a public man's sanctum before—or after. He was intruded upon all the time, as he let the door remain wide open. (Old New Yorkers may recall P. T. Barnum, the showman's, similar habit.) Every now and then some petitioners would make a desperate rush in and, on seeing they were not repelled by order or by the ushers' own initiative, others would be emboldened to do the same. The New Yorker no sooner took this cue than the besieged man perceived him.

"Hello, Depew! what do you want?" was his hail.

"Nothing, Mr. President, save to pay my respects to you, as I am going home."

"Stay! it is such a luxury to see any one who does not want anything!"

He had the room cleared and discussed the war, interspersing the dialogue with apposite stories.—(Told by Senator C. M. Depew.)

* * * * *

"ACCUSE NOT A SERVANT——"

As the possibilities of rapid advancement were redoubled during the war, the President, in his first term of office, was stormed by the office-seekers, who thought it the best plan to have occupiers of posts ousted to give them an opening; so they maligned and even accused chief officials with a freedom unknown in other countries where the bureaucracy is a sacred institution—as within a generation it has become here. Lincoln rebuked one of these covetous vexers by saying gravely to him:

"Friend, go home and attentively read 'Proverbs,' chapter thirteen, verse ten."

The rebuffed applicant found at that page in the book: "Accuse not a servant to his master, lest he curse thee, and thou be found guilty!"—(Attested by Schuyler Colfax.)

* * * * *

A WOLF IN A TRAP MUST SACRIFICE HIS "TAIL" TO BE FREE.

The presidential private secretary, Stoddard, maintains that his chief sorely astonished and baffled the tribe of acquaintances who flocked in upon him as soon as he was elevated and went back home, with empty haversacks, wondering that he ignored them with heartless ingratitude. "He did not make even his own father a brigadier nor invite cousin Dennis Hanks to a seat in his Cabinet!"

* * * * *

SOMEWHAT OF A NEWSMAN.

Innately attached to letters, and precocious, Abraham Lincoln soon learned his letters and drank in all the learning that his few books could supply. Hence at an early age he became the oracle on the rude frontier, where even a smattering made him handy and valuable to the illiterate backwoodsmen. Besides, as working at any place and at any work, he rarely abided long in any one spot, and had not what might be called a home in his teens.

Dennis Hanks, his cousin, said of Abraham, at fourteen to eighteen: "Abe was a good talker, a good reader, and a kind of newsboy." Hence he was a sort of volunteer colporteur distributing gossip, as a notion pedler, before he was a store clerk where centered all the local news. It was on this experience that he would mingle with the newspaper reporters and telegraph men fraternally, saying with his winning smile and undeniable "push":

"Let me in, boys, for I am somewhat of a news-gatherer myself."

And then he would fix his footing by one of his stories, always—well, often—uttered with a view to publication.

* * * * *

"A LITTLE MORE LIGHT AND A LITTLE LESS NOISE."

As the President was a diligent devourer of the newspaper in the vexatious times (as at all others), he met many a torrent of criticism, incitement, and counsels which left him stunned rather than alleviated. To a special correspondent who hampered him, he said:

"Your papers remind me of a little story. There was a gentleman traveling on horseback in the West where the roads were few and bad and no settlements. He lost his way. To make matters worse, as night came on, a terrible thunder-storm arose; lightning dazzled the eye or thunder shook the earth. Frightened, he got off and led his horse, seeking to guide himself by the spasmodic and flickering electric light. All of a sudden, a tremendous crash brought the man in terror to his knees, when he stammered:

"'Oh, Lord! if it be the same to Thee, give us a little more light and a little less noise!'"

* * * * *

"MY PART OF THE SHIP IS ANCHORED."

Among the first men called out was a young Massachusetts man, Burrage, who went as a private. Grievously wounded, he was sent into the hospital and then to his home. Recuperated, he joined his old regiment at the front. He was unaware that strict orders were out against the soldiers exchanging newspapers, and so performed the daily courtesy of giving a paper to the rebels; they had two, and he promised to give them the one due next time. This was held as keeping up correspondence with the Johnnies, and the authorities reduced him to the ranks, as he was then a captain. Worse and worse, the enemy seized him when he went out to redeem his promise about the news, and he was imprisoned on their side. This regalled his wounds and he was a great sufferer. The Massachusetts member of Congress, Alexander Rice, pleaded with the President for his native citizen. The complication was that Burrage was a captain when captured, but a private again soon after, and the rebels would probably hold him at the higher rate if an exchange was allowed, while the Union War Department stood for his being but a common soldier.

"If General Wadsworth raises that point," replied the President, who had allowed this pathetic case to break his rule to deal with classes and not individual offenses, "tell him if he could take care of the exchange part, I guess I can take care of the rank part!"

It is clear that the President saw in this punctilio about a humane act, whose "offense was ranker."

It reminded one of the story of the New England skipper who, with his mate—and crew of a small fisher—owned the vessel. They having quarreled and the captain bidding the other mind his part of the ship, the latter did so, and presently came to the stern to report:

"Captain, I have anchored my part of the ship! Take care of your own."

* * * * *

ANGELS SWEARING MAKE NO DIFFERENCE.

On the President being urged to answer some virulent newspaper assault, his reply was:

"Oh, no; if I were to try to read, much less answer, all the attacks made on me, this shop might as well be closed for any other business, I do the very best I know how—the very best I can; and I mean to keep doing so, until the end. If the end brings me out all right, what is said against me won't amount to anything; if the end brings me out wrong, ten angels swearing I was right would make no difference."

* * * * *

WASHINGTON'S DIFFICULT TASK.

Shortly after Lincoln's inauguration, a senator said to him:

"You have as difficult a task as Washington's, when he took command of the American Army, and as little to do it with."

"That is true, but I have larger resources."

(The three thousand millions spent on the war vividly contrasts with the Colonies fighting rich England with an empty treasury and barefoot, ragged soldiers.)

* * * * *

STEEL AND STEAL.

President Lincoln asked a friend, a senator, immediately on his taking office, upon an embarrassed condition of affairs:

"Have you seen that prophecy about my administration in the papers? A prophet foretells that my rule will be one of steel! To which the wags retort: 'Well, Buchanan's was one of steal.'"

The Georgian slave-holder, late secretary of the treasury, was accused of "diverting" some millions to the South, as that for the war office similarly "diverted" ordnance and munitions to the same quarter; the head of the navy, with what "looked" like collusion, had scattered the war-vessels so as to be long delayed in concentrating.

* * * * *

"THAT'S WHAT'S THE MATTER."

In a Spiritualist performance at the White House, which seemed to have been "edited" by the President himself—as often royalty revises plays—for his special entertainment, the Cabinet being invited, after a rigmarole of stilted phrases purporting to be by Washington, Franklin, Napoleon, and other past celebrities, Mr. Welles, secretary of the navy, remarked: "I will think this matter over, and see what conclusion to arrive at!" (His set phrase.)

There was a smile at this, as the aged minister's prolonged meditations were the laughing-stock of the country, he being the clog on the wheels of the car of state. Instantly raps were heard in the spirit-cabinet, and, the alphabet being consulted, the result was spelled out as:

"That's what's the matter!"

This hit at Mr. Welles' stereotyped fault aroused more mirth, and the crowd at the back of the room, domestics, petty officials, and sub-officers, laughed prodigiously, while the secretary stroked his long white beard musingly.

To this cant term hangs a tale apropos of the President. Its origin was low, but humorous. A benevolent gentleman pierced a crowd to its center to see there, on the pavement under a lamp-post, a poor woman, curled in a heap, with a satisfied grin on her flushed face, breathing brokenly. "What's the matter?" eagerly inquired the compassionate man. A bystander removed his pipe from his mouth, and with it pointed to a flattened pocket-flask sticking out of her smashed reticule, half-under her, and sententiously explained:

"That's what's the matter with Hannah!" The sentence took growth and spread all over the Union. It has settled down, as we know, to a fixed form at political meetings, where the audience beguile the waiting time with demanding "What is the matter?" with this or that favorite demagogue. In the sixties, it patly answered any problem. At the presidential election-time of Lincoln's success, a negro minstrel, Unsworth, was a "star" at "444" Broadway, dressing up the daily news drolly under this title—that is, ending each paragraph with that line.

On the 22d of February, 1861, Abraham Lincoln, scheduled to pass on from Harrisburg, where he made a speech as arranged, instead of waiting to depart by the morning train, sped to Philadelphia and thence by a special train detained for "a military messenger with a parcel," to Washington, by the regular midnight train. The news of his arrival at the capital by this unexpected and clandestine route, and in disguise—this was denied—of a Scotch cap and plaid shawl, startled everybody. Rumors of an attempt to make mischief, as he called it, were rife. But the public still took things as quake-proof, and Mr. Lincoln assured his audiences, as he spoke at every city on his way, that "the crisis was artificial." On the evening of the twenty-third, the writer dropped into the Broadway negro minstrel hall. Newspaper men knew that Unsworth introduced the latest skimming of the press into his burlesque lecture and liked to hear his funny versions and perversions. The comic sheet of the metropolis, Vanity Fair, enframing the witty scintillations of "Artemus Ward," George Arnold, and a brilliant band, complained that this "nigger comedian" used or anticipated their best effusions. On the whole the public saw in the surreptitious flight of the ruler into his due seat only a farce, in keeping with his jesting humor—he was regarded as a Don Quixote in figure, but a Sancho Panza, for his philosophic proverbs, widely retailed and considered opportune. So the indignation proper toward the forced escapade was absent; everybody still mocked at the "terrible plots," as so much stale quail, and when the blackened-face orator, coming to a pause after enunciation of his "That's what's the matter" looked around wistfully, the audience were agog. Suddenly out of the wing an attendant darted with alarmed manner and face. He carried on his arm a shawl, gray and travel-stained, and in one shaking hand a Scotch bonnet. Unsworth snatched them in hot haste and fright, clapped on the cap, and, draping himself in the plaid, rushed off at the side, forgetting his own high silk hat. This, with the black suit, the orthodox lecturer's, now gave him a resemblance to Mr. Lincoln, not previously perceived, for they were men of opposite shapes. The eclipse brought home to the spectators the ludicrousness of the President entering his capital in secret, but, I repeat, no one felt any shame, and the audience went forth to relate the excellent finish to the parody, at home or in the saloons, to hearers as obtuse as themselves, to the seriousness of the episode. Somehow, so far, the elect from Illinois was ever the Western buffoon. But when, in his inaugural address, Lincoln thundered the new keynote, the veil fell:

"In your hands, my dissatisfied fellow countrymen, is the momentous issue of the Civil War."

War! The crisis was no longer "artificial"—he admitted that! What impended, what had fallen? Jest and earnest were still coupled, but earnest took the lead from that hour. Said the Chief Magistrate, in his first official speech: "Physically speaking, we cannot separate—that's what's the matter."

* * * * *

"THE SHIP OF STATE" SIMILE.

On the morning of Lincoln's arrival in Washington, General Logan and Mr. Lovejoy called on him at Willard's Hotel, to urge a firm and vigorous policy. He replied:

"As the country has placed me at the helm of the ship, I'll try to steer her through." The Sangamon River pilot spoke there.

"I understand the ship to be made for the carrying and the preservation of the cargo, and so long as the ship can be saved with the cargo, it should never be abandoned, unless it fails in the probability of its preservation, and shall cease to exist, except at the risk of throwing overboard both freight and passengers."— (Speech, New York reception, 1861.)

"I trust that I may have the assistance of the members of this legislature in piloting the ship of state through this voyage, surrounded by perils as it is; for, if it should suffer shipwreck now, there will be no pilot ever needed for another voyage."—(Speech, Trenton, New Jersey, 1861.)

* * * * *

A PILL FOR THE PUBLIC PRINTER.

In Lincoln's first message to Congress, special session, July 4, 1861, is seen this passage:

"With rebellion thus sugar-coated, they have been drugging the public mind," etc.

Mr. Defrees, public printer, with the proofreader's sublime spurning of plain speech, objected to this sweet word, and said: "Mr. President, you are using an undignified expression! I would alter the construction if I were you!"

"Defrees," was the crushing reply, "that word expresses precisely my idea, and I am not going to change it. The time will never come in this country when the people won't know exactly what 'sugar-coated' means!"

"'I JINKS! I CAN BEAT YOU BOTH!"

One day the public printer wanted to correct a Lincolnism in one of the presidential documents.

"Go home, Defrees, and see if you can better it." The next day, Defrees took him his amendment. It happened that Secretary Seward had spied the same fault as the printer, and Lincoln confronted the two improvements.

"'I jinks! (by Jingo!) Seward has been rewriting the same paragraph. I believe you have beat Seward, but I think I can beat you both!"

And he wrote with his firm hand "Stet! so let it stand!" on the proof-sheet.

* * * * *

"LET THE GRASS GROW WHERE IT MAY!"

Up to the dread day when the news of the flag of our Union being fired upon, in Charleston harbor, the country resembled the sea in one of those calms preceding a storm. When the placidity betrays hidden and mighty currents, and overhead, in the clear sky, one divines the coursers of the tempest gathering to race in strife like that beneath. Up to Lincoln's arrival in Washington, the nest of sedition, the pro-slavery, peace-at-any-price party slackened in no efforts to retain the statu quo, or worse, a new State of the Southern States branching off as suckers strike from the main stem. William E. Dodge had the courage to face the wrought-up Chief Magistrate, chafed with his narrow escape from the assassins of the railroad journey from Baltimore. Said Mr. Dodge:

"It is for you, Mr. President, to say whether the whole nation shall be plunged into bankruptcy (the slaves were valued as property at two thousand million dollars!); whether the grass shall grow in the streets of our commercial cities." (The balance of trade against the South to the manufacturing and supplying North was stupendous.)

"Then, I say, it shall not," replied Lincoln; "if it depends upon me, the grass will not grow anywhere, save in the fields and meadows."

Mr. Dodge persisted in his sordid and businesslike errand.

"Then you will not go to war on account of slavery?"

"I do not know what my acts may be in the future, beyond this: The Constitution will not be preserved and defended until it is enforced and obeyed in every part of every one of the United States. It must be so respected, obeyed, enforced, and defended—let the grass grow where it will!"

* * * * *

THE PEACE-AT-ANY-PRICE PARTY.

"If there were a class of men who, having no choice of sides in the contest, were anxious to have only quiet and comfort for themselves while it rages, and to fall in with the victorious side at the end of it, without loss to themselves, their advice as to the mode of conducting the contest would be precisely such as his."— (His—Mr. Thomas Durant, who, in 1862, wrote a letter on behalf of the conservatives, asking to be let alone.)

"He speaks of no duty—apparently thinks of none—resting upon Union men. He even thinks it injurious to the Union cause that they should be restrained in trade and passage without taking sides. They are to touch neither a sail nor a pump—live merely as passengers (deadheads, at that!)—to be carried snug and dry through the storm, and safely landed right side up! Nay, more—even a mutineer is to go untouched lest these sacred passengers receive an accidental wound."—(Letter to C. Bullitt, July 28, 1862.)

* * * * *

THINGS WERE TOPSY-TURVY ALOFT, TOO.

One evening, when Mr. Hall, astronomer, was working in the Naval Observatory, Washington, on the great equatorial telescope, he was startled to have his sanctum invaded by the gaunt, extenuated figure of the President. He was made welcome, of course, and the varied mechanism explained to him. As the crowning "treat," he was given a peer through the celebrated instrument. It was leveled at the moon, or, rather, arranged to have that orb in its focus at the time. The visitor was appalled, as well as wondering at the view, and slowly withdrew by the trap-door. But when the astronomer resumed his observations and calculations he was interrupted by the same sedate and absorbed caller. He returned, perplexed, as, on glancing up at the moon with unhindered vision, he saw it in another position to that presented in the spy-glass.

Mr. Hall made it clear to him that, as the telescope was pointed, not at the satellite but at its image in a mirror, he saw its reflection and consequently the reverse of the face we observe. The President went away with the satisfaction of a man wanting every novelty demonstrated.

* * * * *

HITCHING TO THE MOON.

Lincoln came to Washington, To view the situation; And found the world all upside down, A rumpus in the nation. (Topical song, 1860.)

* * * * *

A RED FLAG TO HIM.

A most remarkable prelude to the war was the performance through the Northern States of the Chicago Zouaves. The name came from the irregular regiment in the French Algerian service, composed of men worthy of being drummed out of the regular corps; they dressed like the Arabs in the small bolero jacket and baggy red, trousers familiar since. They drilled gymnastically, not to say theatrically. Ellsworth, a clerk in the Lincoln & Herndon law office, had a martial turn, and hearing daily in that quasi-political vortex of the impending crisis, determined to be forearmed in case of the differences coming to blows. He raised, uniformed a la Zou-zou, a score of young men like himself and proceeded to give exhibitions at home and then in the East. The writer retains a vivid memory of the odd and fantastic show, which, however, was regarded as "not war, though magnificent." But Captain Ellsworth was in earnest. Mustered in with his company, he started the Zouave movement which led to two or more regiments being formed. His being the first volunteers at the fore, he claimed the right of the reconnoitering force sent out in May, against Alexandria, to break up railroads held by the rebels. Seeing a rebel flag on a hotel top, he entered the building, and was shot by the landlord in coming down from cutting it away. He was slain instantly, and the like fate befell the murderer, the host, from Ellsworth's guard. Apart from four men killed at Sumter and two in the Baltimore riots, the Chicago Zouave was the first victim of the rebellion. But the position was regained by the secessionists, and the rebel flag replaced the removed one, to the grief of President Lincoln. He could see it from his residence, and Murat Halstead, without knowing the melancholy association of the young officer, being a familiar in his office, reports seeing him dwell with spyglass bent on the flag, for hours.

Elmer Ellsworth, in his last speech, made to the men he was leading out to the front, proves that he imbibed Lincoln's humanity with legal precepts in the office: "Show the enemy that I want to kill them with kindness."

* * * * *

"FLY AWAY, JACK!"

At the end of 1860, South Carolina took the lead in seceding, and in the opening of the next year six other Southern States allied themselves with her. The timid feared hasty acting would precipitate the marshaling of the waverers under the same flag. To a committee urging a pause to see "how the cats would jump," the President observed:

"If there be three pigeons on the fence, and you fire and kill one, how many will there be left?"

The voices said: "Two."

"Oh, no," he corrected; "there would be none left; for the other two, frightened by the shot, would have flown away."

As a truth, the firing on Fort Sumter welded the seceders into their Union; at the same time as it likewise fused the Northerners into consistency.

The President said to General Viele: "We want to keep all that we have of the Border States—those that have not seceded and the portions we have occupied."

* * * * *

HIS PEN WANTED TO KEEP THEIR HOGS SAFE.

Just after the call for seventy-five thousand ninety-day men to subdue the outbreak after Sumter was cannonaded, a deputation of loyal Virginians waited upon the President. They expounded on this levy that the fair fields of the South would be overrun by the ragamuffins of the Northern cities, and the hen-roosts and pig-houses ravished, etc.

"But what would you have me do?" asked Lincoln, who did not then foresee his having to conduct the military movements.

"Mr. President, if you would only lend us your pen a moment—" meaning, of course, that he should write a line to calm the rising storm.

But the other pretended to misunderstand him, saying: "Lend my pen! my pen? What would you do with that?—keep your hogs safe with that?"

* * * * *

"HURRAH FOR YOU!"

At the Chicago reception, a little boy came into the room, with his father. No doubt he had been instructed to behave with decorum in the august presence; but he no sooner saw the tall, prominent figure than he shouted: "Hurrah for Mist' Lincoln!"

The crowd laughed, and still the more as the object of the ovation caught up the little fellow, gave him a toss to the ceiling, and, while he was in the air, shouted out lustily:

"Hurrah for Mister You!" and, catching him, lowered him, red and panting, to the floor.

* * * * *

"PUT YOUR FEET RIGHT AND STAND FIRM!"

Giving a lift in his carriage to two ladies, to the Soldiers' Home, the horses were splashing and sliding after a shower in the mire, when Mr. Lincoln assisted the frightened women to alight. He set three stones for stepping-stones in the mud, and assisted them to firm ground. He had cautioned them in making the passage:

"All through life be sure you put your feet in the right place, and then stand firm!"

Looking down on his muddy boots (Lincoln as a Westerner always stuck to leg-boots, and was never seen in the effeminate "Congress gaiters," by the bye), he added: "I have always heard of 'Washington mud,' and now I shall take home some as a sample!"

* * * * *

GET THEIR GRAVES READY!

In April, 1861, a deputation of sympathizers with secession had the boldness to call on President Lincoln and demand a cessation of hostilities until convening of Congress, threatening that seventy-five thousand Marylanders would contest the passage of troops over their soil.

"I presume," quietly replied Mr. Lincoln, "that there is room enough in her soil for seventy-five thousand graves?"—(Peterson's "Life of Lincoln.")

* * * * *

MR. LINCOLN'S OPINION OF GENERAL McCLELLAN.

In the first stage of the war, when the President was commander-in-chief of the forces by virtue of his office, he played the part of the elevated boy in "The King of the Castle." Every one of his colleagues, who ought to have been his loyal supporters, until some firm stand was attained under the batteries of Richmond, civil and military, warred against him, underhandedly and haply openly. All aimed, in Cabinet and on the staff, to be ruler. The understrappers of aged General Scott upheld all that concurred with warfare, set and obsolete, of the European strategists, overthrown by the great Napoleon. The principal practiser of these tactics, the summum bonum, or "good thing," of the "West Pointers" was General McClellan, "the Little Mac" of his worshipers and "the Little Napoleon" of the dazzled crowd. He was, like Cassio, "a great arithmetician, who had never set a squadron in the field or the division of a battle knew," etc. Seeming utterly to ignore that the enemy was composed of men trained by their life and "genteel" occupations to shoot true, to ride like Comanches or Revolutionary Harry Lee's Light-horse, used to lying outdoors under skies genial to them, and subsisting on game and corn-cake as Marion on sweet potatoes, he expected to foil such guerrillas as "Jeb" Stuart, Mosby, and Quantrell by earthworks, which they probably would have leaped their horse over if they wanted to reach their spoil in that way. It was in allusion to this adherence to Vauban that the President, who eyed the aspiring Hotspur as Henry V. his heir, the sixth Henry, trying on his crown, observed shrewdly, when the general kept silence:

"He is entrenching."

* * * * *

A "STATIONARY" ENGINE.

Lincoln said of the much-promising General McClellan: "He is an admirable engineer, but he seems to have a special talent for a stationary engine."

He also cited him as a scholar and a gentleman.

Nevertheless, as the education lavished on the Army of the Potomac to make it earn foreign military critics' praise at reviews, was not thrown away, but made sound soldiers which in time were invaluable to General Grant, Lincoln did him justice by quaintly, but earnestly, saying:

"I would like to borrow his arm if he has no further use for it."

(General Franklin heard this.)

But "Little Mac" had no design on the dictatorship, being surely a lover of the Union, too.

* * * * *

SHOVELING FLEAS.

On account of the looseness and corruption attending the raising of soldiers at the first, the President, noting the difference between the number of men forwarded to General McClellan for the Army of the Potomac, and the number reported arrived, said:

"Sending men to that army is like shoveling fleas across a barn-yard—half of them never get there."

* * * * *

THE GEORGIA COLONEL'S COSTUME.

"On account of this sectional warfare," Senator Mason, of Virginia, announced his resolve to wear homespun, and dispense with Yankee manufactures altogether. That made Lincoln laugh, and say: "To carry out his idea, he ought to go barefoot. If that's the plan, they should begin at the foundation, and adopt the well-known Georgian colonel's uniform—a shirt-collar and a pair of spurs!"—(In, speech, New England tour, 1860.)

* * * * *

COARSE FEED FIRST!

Secretary Whitney wrote: "In July, 1861, I was in Washington, where I merely said to President Lincoln: 'Everything is drifting into the war, and I guess you will have to put me in the army.' (He was in the Indian service at the time.)

"The President looked up from his work, and said good-humoredly:

"'I'm making generals now! In a few days I will be making quartermasters, and then I'll fix you.'"

* * * * *

"AIN'T I GLAD TO GIT OUT O' DE WILDERNESS!"

In the summer of 1862, just when the North was lulled to repose by the note from General McClellan's newsmongers, that the people would have a great surprise on the Fourth of July, Colonel J. E. B. Stuart, Confederate cavalrist, took about two thousand picked riders and performed a dash within the hostile lines, which achieved a world-wide admiration. It is necessary to premise that the country was inimical to the defenders of Washington, and the farmers kept the secessionists clearly informed on the Federal movements. Besides, the first duty of keeping Washington engrossed all the Union commanders. If, by any unexpected movement, the rebels occupied the capital long enough to set up their government, Europe would have recognized the stars and bars, and raised the blockade on the cotton ports. Washington was stupefied and terror-stricken when the news came in from the North that rebel cavalry were "cavortin" within McClellan's lines. Communication was cut off with him, and the President was heard to say in the general dumbness of consternation:

"There is no news from the Army of the Potomac. I do not even know that we have an army!"

He was himself filled with the universal alarm. His hope was that a bright morning would follow the dark hour, but his faith and belief that God would safely lead them "out of the wilderness" was not widely shared.

The allusion was to the popular army song, taken from the negro camp-meeting repertoire: "Ain't I glad to git out o' de Wilderness," which a clergyman had encouragingly chanted awhile before. This wilderness was metaphorically spiritual, but all applied the figure to the Wilderness of Virginia, where the battles were fought.

* * * * *

WITH TWO GUNS, HOLD OFF AN ARMY.

One Irish artilleryman was left behind, with one gun of his battery, on the wrong bank of the Potomac, when the Union Army retreated before Lee. This gunner actually telegraphed direct to the President as his commander-in-chief that:

"I have the whole rebel army in my front. Send me another gun, and I assure your honor that they shall not come over!"

This pleased the President greatly, who answered that the new Horatius was to take counsel with his officer—if he could find him!

* * * * *

BREAKING UP THE LITTLE GAME.

In 1862, Washington was full of talk "and no hard cider." There was the laugh talk of the gossips, who would chatter under fire, the chaff talk of the press men taking things farcically, and the staff talk of the officers envying one another and scheming for places. Too many were still "carrying water on both shoulders," and would have welcomed a speedy reconciliation. The President heard that some of the latter voiced the petulant complaint of those weary of the gainless military movements, that the intention was to shift the two armies about till both were exhausted, and, like the peace-at-any-price men, and the still sympathizing pro-slavery "tail," a compromise could be effected and slavery saved. He summoned the parties in this public unbosoming before him. Major Turner said that Major John J. Key, staff-officer to General McClellan, was asked why the Unionists had not bagged the rebel army soon after the battle of Sharpsburg, whereupon he replied:

"That was not the game! We should tire ourselves and the rebels out; that was the only way that the Union could be preserved; then we would come together fraternally, and slavery will be saved."

Major Key did not deny the words, but stoutly maintained his loyalty. As McClellan's staff-officer, he must have known his leader's policy—no confiscation, and no Emancipation Act—for McClellan hoped, like thousands of conservatives, to bring about reaction in the South.

But the President sharply said with some of his sempiternal humor:

"Gentlemen, if there is a game even among Union men, to have our army not take any advantage of the enemy it can, it is my object to break up that game!"

* * * * *

"THE BOTTOM WILL FALL OUT."

General McClellan's delayed advance being, in 1862, not upon Manassas, but on Yorktown, filled the less enthusiastic of his henchmen with consternation. To the general eye he seemed to have pitched on the very point where the enemy wanted to meet with all the gain in their favor. This direct route to Richmond they had tried to make impregnable. The President, whom McClellan openly thwarted with unconcealed scorn for the "civilian," was in profound distress. He called General Franklin into his counsel and inquired his opinion of the slowness of movements.

"If something is not soon done in this dry rot, the bottom will fall out of the whole affair!" This was his very saying.

The Confederates evacuated Yorktown, but a series of actions ensued, culminating in the massacre at Fair Oaks, where both sides claimed the victory. Soon after, Lincoln took matters in hand, relegating McClellan to one army, and, as commander-in-chief, ordering a general advance. The bottom had fallen out with a vengeance!

* * * * *

"MASTER OF THEM BOTH."

"General McClellan's attitude is such that in the very selfishness of his nature he cannot but wish to be successful, and I hope he will! And the secretary of war (Stanton) is in precisely the same situation. If the military commanders in the field cannot be successful, not only the secretary of war, but myself, for the time being master of both, cannot but be failures."—(Speech, August 6, 1862, at Washington.)

* * * * *

"THE SKEERED VIRGINIAN."

A reviewing-party, of which the President was the center, was stopped at a railroad by Harper's Ferry, to let a locomotive pass, and look at the old engine-house where John Brown, the raider, was penned in and captured. The little switching-engine ran past with much noise and bustle, the engineer blowing the ludicrous whistle in salute to the distinguished visitors. Lincoln referred to the recollections of the scene, where old "Pottowatomie" thrilled the natives with panic lest he raised the negroes to revolt, and remarked, as the engine flew away:

"You call that 'The Flying Dutchman' do you? They ought to call that thing 'The Skeered Virginian!'"—(By General O. O. Howard, a hearer.)

* * * * *

"HE WHO FIGHTS AND RUNS AWAY—"

Shortly after the scandalous rout of Bull Run, the participants in the panic began to try to palliate the disgrace. The President, listening with revived sarcasm to the new perversion, remarked:

"So it is your notion now that we licked the rebels and then ran away!"

* * * * *

NO SUNDAY FIGHTING.

As the first Battle of Bull Run, a sanguinary defeat to the Unionists, was fought on the Sabbath day, the President forbade in the future important movements on the day desecrated. But with singular inconsistency in a sage so clear-headed, he did not see that the Southerners chuckled, "The better the day, the better the deed," in their victory.

* * * * *

LET A GOOD MAN ALONE!

General Howard, in taking command before Washington, incurred the hostility of certain officers of the convivial, plundering, swashbuckling order, who objected to his piety and orderliness. They tramped off to badger the President with their censure. But he who had appreciated the new leader in a glance, reproved them, saying:

"Howard is a good man. Let him alone; in time he will bring things straight."

That was what caused the general to reverence him and love him.

* * * * *

THE "BLONDIN" SIMILE.

One of the universal topics of the early sixties was the feats of the acrobat Blondin. This daring rope-walker crossed the waters by Niagara Falls on a slack wire. On one occasion he carried a man on his back, to whom he imparted the caution, "grappling as with hooks of steel":

"If you upset me with trembling, I shall drop you! I shall catch the rope and be safe! As for you, inexperienced one—pfitt!"

The chain of defeats and "flashes in the pan" attending the opening of the campaign beginning as a march upon Richmond, [Footnote: Some Northern newspapers kept a standing head: "On to Richmond!"] but eventuating in a defense of Washington, humiliating as was this reverse, promoted all sorts and conditions of men, moneyed, well-grounded, and investing in the new government securities, fluctuating like wildcat stock, to pester the President with Jeremiads and counsel. To one deputation from his home parts he administered this caustic rebuke in such illustration as was habitual to him:

"Gentlemen, suppose all the property you were worth was in gold, and you had put it in the hands of Blondin, to carry across the Niagara River on a rope, would you shake the cable, or keep shouting out to him:

"'Blondin, stand up straighter! Blondin, stoop a little more! go a little faster! lean a little more to the North! to the South?'

"No; you would hold your breath as well as your tongue, and keep your hands off all, until he was safe over.

"The government [Footnote: Lincoln always used "Government" and "U. S." as nouns carrying a plural verb.] are carrying an immense weight. Untold treasures are in their hands. They are doing the very best they can. Don't pester them! Keep silence, and we will get you safe across."

* * * * *

THE PIONEER'S LAND-TITLE.

Judge Weldon was appointed United States attorney, acting in Illinois. Being at Washington, some speculators, knowing he was an old friend of the President, engaged him for their side. They wanted to get cotton permits from the treasury, which was feasible, but made sure that the military would recognize these passes—no doubt, if the President would countersign them. Otherwise the army officers acted often without regard to trade desires. On broaching the subject to the potentate on whose lips so much hung at the epoch, the latter brightened up and, in his branching-off manner, said:

"By the way, what has become of your friend Robert Lewis?"

Lewis was the clerk of the court in Illinois, and at home, well and thrifty.

"Do you remember," continued the President, "his story about his going to Missouri to look up some Mormon lands belonging to his father?"

Whereupon, as Weldon said that he had forgot some details, the story-teller related with unction:

"This Robert Lewis, on coming of age, found papers in his father's muniments, entitling him as heir to lands in northeastern Missouri, where the Mormons had attempted settling before their enforced exodus. There was no railroad, so Lewis rode out to that part and thought he had located the land. For the night he stopped at a solitary log house. A gruff voice bade him come in, not very hospitably. The owner was a long, lanky man about eleven feet high, 'Bob' thought. He had a rifle hanging on its hooks over the fireplace, also about eleven feet long, Bob also reckoned. He was interrupted in 'necking' bullets, for they were cast in a mold and left a little protuberance where the run left off.

"This first comer had been there some time and seemed to know the section, but was rather indifferent to the stranger's inquiries about the site of his lands. Teased at this unconcern, so opposite to the usual feeling of settlers who like a neighbor in the lonesomeness, Lewis hastened to lay down the law:

"'He was looking up the paternal purchase. Here were the titles,' spreading out the papers. 'That is my title to this section. You are on it. What is yours?'

"The other had shown some slight interest in the topic by this time. He paused in his occupation and pointed with his long arm to the long rifle, saying:

"'Young man, do you see that gun? That is my title, and if you do not git out o' hyar pretty quick, you will feel the force of it!'

"Lewis crammed his papers into his saddle-bags and rushed out to bestride his pony—but said that the man snapped his gun at him twice before he was out of range.

"Now," resumed Mr. Lincoln, "the military authorities have the same title against the civil ones—the guns! The gentlemen themselves may judge what the result is likely to be!"

Mr. Weldon reported to his employers, at Willard's Hotel, and they laughed heartily at the illustration, but they did not proceed with the cotton speck, understanding what would be the Administration's policy as well as if a proclamation were issued.—(By Judge Weldon.)

* * * * *

"CHEERS NOT MILITARY—BUT I LIKE THEM!"

After the disarray of the first Bull Run battle, the President drove out to the camps to rally the "boys in the blues." General Sherman was only a colonel, and he had the rudeness of a military man to hint to the visitor that he hoped the orator would not speak so as to encourage cheering and confusion. The President stood up in his carriage and prefaced his speech with this exordium:

"Don't cheer, boys; I confess that I rather like it, myself; but Colonel Sherman, here, says it isn't military, and I guess we had better defer to his opinion." With his inimitable wink, which would have been an independent fortune to a stage comedian.

* * * * *

NUMBERING THE HAIRS OF HIS—TAIL!

A Congressional committee selected to examine and report upon a new cannon, produced so voluminous a tome that Lincoln, reviewing it, dropped it in disgust and commented:

"I should want a new lease of life to read this through! Why can't a committee of this kind occasionally exhibit a grain of common sense? If I send a man to buy a horse for me, I expect him to tell me his points, not how many hairs there are in his tail!"—(Authenticated by Mr. Hubbard, member of Congress of Connecticut, to whom the remark was addressed.)

* * * * *

AN UNCONVENTIONAL ORDER.

On going over the minor orders, riders, and corrections of the President, it will be seen that he never succumbed to conforming with the stale and set phrases of the civil-service documents. For an instance of his unquenchable humor read the following discharge:

Two brothers, Smiths, of Boston, had been arrested, held, and persecuted for a long period by a military tribunal. The charge was defrauding the government. The hue and cry about the cheating contractors called for a victim. But the Chief Executive on perusing the testimony concluded that the defendants were guiltless. He wrote the subsequent release:

"Whereas, Franklin W. and J. C. Smith had transactions with the Navy Department to the amount of one and a quarter millions of dollars; and, whereas, they had the chance to steal a million, and were charged with stealing twenty-two hundred dollars—and the question now is stealing a hundred—I don't believe they stole anything at all! Therefore, the record and findings are disapproved—declared null and void—and the defendants are fully discharged."

* * * * *

"IT OCCURS TO ME THAT I AM COMMANDER!"

To the prairie man the climate of Washington would be almost tropical. Nevertheless, it participates of American meteorological variability, as "Old Probability" would admit.

One night, Lincoln, coming out of his rooms at the Executive Mansion to make his nocturnal round, finishing with the call for the latest despatches at garrison headquarters, noticed as the fierce gale shook him and scourged him with sleet, that a soldier was contending with the storm just outside the outer door.

"Young man," said he, turning sharply to him, "you have got a cold job to-night. Step inside and guard there."

The soldier stoutly contended—for the colloquy became an argument by Lincoln's delight in debate. He persisted that he was posted there by orders and must not budge save by a superior countermand.

"Hold on, there!" cried Lincoln, pleased at the arguer supplying him with a decisive weapon; "it occurs to me that I am commander-in-chief! and so, I order you to go inside!"

* * * * *

COMPLIMENTS IS ALL THEY DO PAY!

A paymaster introduced to the President by the United States district marshal, remarked with independence noticeable in the sect: "I have no official business with you, sir—I only called to pay my compliments!"

"I understand," was the retort; "and from the soldiers' complaints, I think that is all you gentlemen do pay!"

* * * * *

BAIL THE POTOMAC WITH A SPOON.

There is as pathetic a picture as the old sated Marquis of Queensberry (Thackeray's Steyne and history's "Old Q.") murmuring as he gazed from his castle window on the unsurpassed view of the Thames Valley, "Oh, this cursed river running on all the day!" in President Lincoln watching the broad Potomac where all was so quiet, and yet the hidden and watchful enemy lined the other bank. A petitioner hemmed him in a corner of the room with this sight, and poured on him the bucket of his woes. The at last irritated worm turned on him, and cried:

"My poor man! go away! do go away! I cannot meddle in your case. I could as easily bail the Potomac with a teaspoon as attend to all the details of the army!"

* * * * *

"WE SHALL BEAT THEM, MY SON!"

George W. Curtis, New York editor, called on the President in the first winter of the war, with the Illinoisian's friend, Judge Arnold. He said that the official wore a sad, weary, and anxious look, and spoke with a softened, touching voice. But he added to his good-by at the door in shaking hands, with paternal kindness and profound conviction:

"We shall beat them, my son! we shall beat them!"

* * * * *

"LITTLE FOR SO BIG A BUSINESS."

Before the war the museums of the Eastern States were regaled by an "Infant Drummer." This lad, Harry W. Stowman, at the age of seven or eight, was a proficient on the drum. He was seen by this editor, executing solos of great difficulty, and accompanying the orchestra with variations on his unpromising instrument, which musicians praised and in which he avoided monotony with precocious talent. Grown up, still a rare drummer, he was attached to the Germantown Hospital as post drummer. At the first inauguration he was with the band and noticed by the President. With his habit of applauding the young, the latter spoke to him, commended his playing, and remarked:

"You are a very little man to be in this big business!" He took him up, kissed him, and paternally set him down, drum and all.

Mr. Stowman lived to the age of forty with this pretty memory.

* * * * *

NOT "SHOULDER-STRAPS," BUT HARDTACK.

At a military function when Lincoln presented a new commander to a legion, one of the soldiers burst out with that irreverence distinguishing the American volunteer:

"It is not shoulder-straps (the officers' insignia), but hardtack that we want!"

Hardtack was the nickname for the disused ship bread turned over to the army by remorseless contractors.

* * * * *

"MARYLAND A GOOD STATE TO MOVE FROM!"

Thurlow Weed, prominent "wire-puller," presented as a preferable puppet to Montgomery Blair his choice, Henry Winter Davis, upon which the President said:

"Davis? Judge David Davis put you up to this. He has Davis on the brain. A Maryland man who wants to get out! Maryland must be a good State to move from. Weed, did you ever hear, in this connection, of the witness in court asked to state his age? He said sixty. As he was on the face of it much older, but persisted, the court admonished him, saying:

"'The court knows you to be older than sixty!'

"'Oh, I understand now,' owned up the old fellow. 'You are thinking of the ten years I spent in Maryland; that was so much time lost and did not count!'"

* * * * *

DON'T SWAP HORSES CROSSING A STREAM.

The setting up and the bowling over of the generals commanding the army defending Washington from McDowell at Bull Run to Meade at Gettysburg, resembles a grim game at tenpins. The President, who tried to find a professional captain to relieve him of his responsibility as nominally war-chief of the national forces, therefore smiled sarcastically when the ninety-ninth deputation came to suggest still another aspirant to be the new Napoleon, and said to it:

"Gentlemen, your request and proposition remind me of two gentlemen in Kentucky.

"The flat lands there bordering on the rivers are subject to inundations, so the fordable creek becomes in an instant a broad lake, deep and rapidly running. These two riders were talking the common topic—in that famous Blue Grass region where fillies and fill-es, as the voyageur from Canada said in his broken English, are unsurpassable for grace and beauty. Each fell to expatiating upon the good qualities of his steed, and this dialogue was so animated and engrossing they approached a ford without being conscious of outer matters. There was heavy rain in the highlands and an ominous sound in the dampening air. They entered the water still arguing. Then, at midway, while they came to the agreement to exchange horses, with no 'boot,' since each conceded the value of the animals, the river rose. In a twinkling the two horses were floundering, and the riders, taken for once off their balance, lost stirrup and seat, and the four creatures, separated, were struggling for a footing in the boiling stream. Away streaked the horses, buried in foam, three or four miles down, while the men scrambled out upon the new edge.

"Gentlemen," concluded the President, drawing his moral with his provoking imperturbability, "those men looked at each other, as they dripped, and said with the one voice: 'Ain't this a lesson? Don't swap horses crossing a stream!'"—(Heard by Superintendent Tinker, war telegrapher.)

* * * * *

"NO PLACING THORNS IN THE SIDE OF MY WORST ENEMY!"

The Free Constitution of Maryland was the work of Lincoln. His and its supporters made a party to go to Washington and congratulate the President on the victory. They had a band and serenaded him in the White House until he came forth. But he said, to the dampening of their ardor, when the cheering had subsided:

"My friends, I appreciate this honor very highly, but I am very sorry to see you rejoice over the defeat of those opposed to us. It is furthest from my desire to place a thorn in any one's side, though he be my worst enemy."—(Recited by Mr. Hy. G. Willis, Baltimore, in the Sun of that city.)

* * * * *

THE LINCOLN PLAN OF CAMPAIGN.

This historical document promised at one time to be a problem like the Sibilline Leaves or Czar Peter's will. But Secretary H. C. Whitney declares that it existed as he had it laid before him by the strategist.

"Running his long forefinger down the map of Virginia, he said: 'We must drive them away from here (Manassas Gap, where indeed were fights over the keystone), and clear them out of this part of the State, so that they cannot threaten them here (Washington) and get into Maryland.' (Unfortunately, the rebels did threaten Washington right on and entered Maryland and Pennsylvania, as late as July, 1863, and by a cavalry raid, a year later.)

"'We must keep up a good and thorough blockade of their ports. We must march an army into East Tennessee and liberate the Union sentiment there. (This was not finally done till the end of 1864.)

"'Finally, we must rely on the (Southern) people growing tired, and saying to their leaders: "We have had enough of this thing, and will bear it no longer."'"

In 1862, a year after, Lincoln says to McClellan: "We have distinct and different plans for a movement of the Army of the Potomac: yours to be down the Chesapeake, etc.; mine, to move directly to the point on the railroads southwest of Manassas. (He hugs his original idea.)... In case of disaster, would not a retreat be more difficult by your plan than mine?" You see the prudence in him esteemed ignorant and consequently blindly rash. All this amounted to nothing when the President trusted fully to Grant as his lieutenant.

* * * * *

THE COMMANDER SHOULD OBEY ORDERS.

The President at Fort Stevens was the mark for a rebel battery. A colonel in command was diffident about ordering the superior about, but he was averse to letting the "dare" bring on a fatality, as the sharpshooters had an easy butt in the Lincoln exceptional figure. So he took the advice of Mr. Registrar Chittenden, on the staff, and bade the President retire, or he would move him by a file of men.

"And you would do quite right, my boy!" acquiesced the chief. "I should be the last man to set an example of disobedience."

* * * * *

THE IDLERS EQUALED THE EFFECTIVES.

During a review of General Howard's corps on the Rappahannock, in April, 1863, President Lincoln noticed, whether his eyes were "unmilitary or not," that a very numerous mass of men were spectators, though wearing a semisoldierly look and clothes. They were, in fact, the inevitable hangers-on of an army, the more in number, as the escaped slaves were welcomed by the soldiers, as they made them do their dirty work. The commanding general explained that they were "the cooks, the bottle-washers, and the nigger waiters." They had come out to see the President.

"That review yonder," returned Lincoln gently, as he smiled, "is about as big as ours!"—(By General O. O. Howard.)

* * * * *

REST!

Sitting before his desk in his office, at the White House, Lincoln quaintly uttered: "I wish George Washington or some of those old patriots were here in my place so that I could have a little rest."—(Heard by General Viele.)

* * * * *

"I CAN BEAR CENSURE, BUT NOT INSULT!"

An army officer appeared before the President with a statement of his defense against a sentence of cashiering. He was told that his own paper did not warrant the superior interference. But he showed up twice more, repeating the plea and the version of his own preparation.

At the continued repulse he blurted out:

"I see, Mr. President, that you are not disposed to do me justice!"

If Lincoln was the embodiment of any one virtue it was justice to all. At this slur he sprang up and put the fellow out of the door by a lift of his collar, saying:

"Never show yourself in this room again! I can bear censure, but not insult!"

* * * * *

A BATTLE OF ROSES.

At every reverse to the Unionists, the more or less secret sympathizers with the seceders reiterated the cry that gentler measures should be used against "our erring brothers." To one such pleader, the President severely, but humorously, responded, in writing:

"Would you have me drop the war where it is, or would you prosecute it in future with elder-stalk squirts charged with rose-water?"

Mr. Lincoln may or may not have said this and thus—but he certainly wrote it, for which see his letter to C. Bullitt, July 28, 1862. Guns of elder squirts are mentioned by his dear Shakespeare.

* * * * *

"HELP ME LET GO!"

The year 1862 had its gold in the victories of Murfreesboro and Perryville in the West, but in the neighborhood of the capital General Burnside's defeat at Fredericksburg, while his supporters counted on his justifying his superseding McClellan, clouded all Washington. The staff-officer [Footnote: An account says it was Governor Curtin in person.] who brought the painful news saw that the President was so saddened that he faltered an apology for the nature of his mission.

"I wish, Mr. President, that I might be the bearer of good instead of bad news—I wish I brought the intelligence by which you could conquer or get rid of these rebellious States!"

His hearer smiled at the essay to cheer him, who believed he would "never sleep again," and related, with a view to enliven him also, the story of "Help me let go."

The version, circulating viva voce, ran as follows:

"That reminds me of the camp where a bear suddenly made his appearance and scattered the party. All save one shinned up trees, or got behind rocks, and that one meeting the animal head on, before he could turn, seized bruin by the ears and held on 'like grim death to a dead nigger.'

"Recovering from their fright the hunters came out of ambush and were unable to do anything but laugh at the fix their friend was in.

"'You ain't mastered, are you?' asked they.

"'Not licked, but I want you to help me let go!'"

Mr. Lincoln expressed himself when he said he was slow to learn and slow to forget; the two qualities are redeemed by his wonderful ease and quickness in remembering. To quote well is good, but to quote fitly is better. His intimates noticed that he would reecho a story—a simile or a tag—and so neatly apply it that it seemed fresh on the second use. He was an admirable actor, though not appreciated in that light; for he could reappear in the same part without palling. Hence one often meets his stories, as, for instance, this one. His life law partner, Herndon, tells it as used toward a petty judge, in Illinois, of inferior ability to Lincoln's. It was a murder case, and this bully on the bench kept ruling against Herndon and Lincoln. A material point was ruled adversely just at the refreshment recess. Lincoln withdrew sore, as he believed that the judge was personally controverting his positions. He avowed his own feelings, and announced:

"I have determined to crowd the court to the wall and regain my position before night."

As Judge Herndon was a bystander, his account of the further proceedings must be as faithful as veracious:

"At the reassembling of court, Mr. Lincoln rose to read a few authorities in support of his position, keeping within the bounds of propriety just far enough to avoid a reprimand. He characterized the continuous rulings against him as not only unjust but foolish, and, figuratively speaking, peeled the court from head to foot.... Lincoln was alternately furious and eloquent, and after pursuing the court with broad facts and pointed inquiries in rapid succession, he made use of this homely incident to clinch his argument."

(The tale is given as about a wild boar. In either phrase, the point is that the judge was attached to his Tartar and wanted to be let go!)

"The prosecution tried in vain to break Lincoln down," concludes Mr. Herndon, "and the judge, badgered effectually by Lincoln's masterly arraignment of law and fact, pretended to see the error of his former position, and finally reversed his decision in his tormentor's favor. Lincoln saw his triumph and surveyed a situation of which he was master."

* * * * *

SPLITTING THE DIFFERENCE.

Upon the Western Virginia Stateship Bill passing in Congress, an opponent, Mr. Carlisle, ran to the President. He urged him to veto the bill.

"Well, I'll tell you what I'll do: I'll split the difference and say nothing about it!"—(Frank Moore.)

* * * * *

IN THE INCA'S POSITION.

Long after the President reconsidered his hasty surmise that the impending war was "artificial crisis," Congress continued to waver, and no one put forward a definite and working policy for the head who avowed that he never had one. In his despondency and lonesomeness, he welcomed an old friend from his State, who, however, like the rest, had his frets and rubs to seek solace for.

"You know better than any man living that, from my boyhood up, my ambition was to be President. I am, at least, President of one part of the divided country; but look at me! With a fire in my front and one in my rear to contend with, and not receiving that cordial cooperative support from Congress, reasonably expected, with an active and formidable enemy in the field threatening the very life-blood of the government, my position is anything but on a bed of roses."

* * * * *

"BLIND" FORTUNE.

A soldier shot in the head so as to be deprived of sight in both eyes left the Carver Hospital, Washington, and blundered in crossing the avenue. At that very moment the President's carriage was coming along to the Soldiers' Home from the mansion. The coach alone would probably have not brought any casualty upon the unfortunate young invalid, but it was again surrounded by one of the cavalry detachments, which Lincoln insisted on being withdrawn, but it was replaced, for the time.

The soldier hearing this double clatter of hoofs became bewildered, and stood still in the midroad, or, if anything, inclined toward the thundering danger. The cavalry chargers, trained to avoid hurting men—for a rider might be thrown—eluded contact, and the coachman neatly pulled aside. In the next moment, in a cloud of dust, the President, leaning out of the window, to ascertain the cause of the abrupt stop, saw the poor young soldier by his side. Lincoln threw out a hand to seize him by the arm, and reassure him of safety by the vibrating clutch. Then, perceiving the nature of the affair, he asked in a voice trembling with emotion about the man's regiment and disablement. The man was from the Northwest—Michigan. Lumbermen—and they are of the woods woody out there—and Lincoln believed in "the ax as the enlarger of our borders"—are brotherly. The next day the soldier was commissioned lieutenant with perpetual leave, but full pay.—(By the veteran reservist, H. W. Knight, of the escort.)

* * * * *

LITTLE DAVID AND THE STONE FOR GOLIATH.

In the spring, 1862, spies and foreign officers who had seen the rebel ram Merrimac being built at Norfolk, reported her as formidable. The United States Galena, our first ironclad, was a failure. There was no vessel of the kind to deal with the monster save Ericsson's floating battery, ready for sea in March, called the Monitor, as a warning to Great Britain, expected to interfere on behalf of the South and raise the blockade over the cotton ports. This craft with a revolving turret was just as much of a new idea as its prototype.

On March 8, the Merrimac came out of Norfolk and ran down the Cumberland sloop of war; blew the Congress to splinters, and compelled her being blown up to save her from the enemy; the Minnesota was run aground to prevent being rammed. The victor returned to her dock to make ready for a fresh onslaught. The effect was profound; it seemed no exaggeration to suppose that the irresistible conqueror would pass through the United States fleet at Hampton Roads and, speeding along the coast, reduce New York to the most onerous terms or to ashes.

On Sunday, the ninth, the Monitor arrived after a sea passage, showing she rode too low for ocean navigation. Though in no fit state for battle, no time was allowed her, as the Merrimac ran out to exult over the ruins of the encounter. The Monitor threw herself in her way, bore her broadside without injury, and her shock with impunity, but on the other hand hurled her extremely heavy ball in, under her water-line. The ram backed out, and, wheeling and putting on full steam, returned to her haven. She was, it appears, too low to cross the bar to go up to Richmond, and was not ocean-going; she was blown up when Yorktown was evacuated by the Confederates in May, 1862.

The President had said of her defeater, to some naval officers: "I think she will be the veritable sling with the stone to smite the Philistine Merrimac."

* * * * *

LINCOLN'S CHEESE-BOX ON A RAFT.

There is a chapter yet to be published upon iron-clad war-ships, as introduced practically in the Civil War. To the Southerners is due the innovation on a fair scale, though the experiments were not at all profitably demonstrative. Upon rumors that the enemy were building the novelties of iron-cased vessels, the Federal government responded by voting money—and throwing it away upon a fiasco. Meanwhile, the others had razeed a frigate, the Merrimac, and upon an angular roof laid railroad-iron to make her shot-proof. Stories of her likelihood to be a terror, especially as she was stated by spies to be seaworthy, inspired the Americanized Swedish naval engineer, Ericsson, to build a turret-ship. The Naval Construction Board unanimously rebuffed the innovator. Luckily, President Lincoln became interested as a flat-boat builder, in his youth. He took up the inventor and the design. He scoffed at the idea that the man had not planned thoroughly, saying, as to the weight of the armor sinking the hull:

"Out West, in boat-building, we figured out the carrying power to a nicety."

His championship earned the Monitor the name of Lincoln's "cheese-box on a raft."

The assistant secretary of the navy, knowing all the facts, observes:

"I withhold no credit from Captain John Ericsson, her inventor, but I know the country is principally indebted to President Lincoln for the construction of this vessel, and for the success of the trial to Captain Worden."—(Captain Fox, Ericsson's adviser, confirms this credit.)

* * * * *

NO "DUTCH COURAGE."

After the miraculous intervention of the Ericsson Monitor, the President took a party aboard to inspect the little champion which had saved the fleet and, perhaps, the capital, where the captain received them. He apologized for the limited accommodation, and for the lack of the traditional lemon and necessary attributes for a presidential visit. But the teetotaler chief merrily replied:

"Some uncharitable persons say that old Bourbon valor inspires our generals in the field, but it is plain that Dutch courage was not needed on board of the Monitor!"

* * * * *

"IF I HAD AS MUCH MONEY AND WAS AS BADLY SKEERED——"

In March, 1862, after her terrifying exploits, the Merrimac ram was reported to have escaped to sea and was seeking fresh prey to devour. The Eastern seaports were in a panic. A deputation of New York's merchant princes, bullion barons, and plutocrats generally, representing "a hundred millions," was the rumor heralding their "rush" visit to the capital, arrived at the White House.

The spokesman faltered that the great metropolis was in peril, that treasures were involved by the apprehension, and that, in brief, the government ought to take measures to defend the Empire City from the spite of this irresistible ocean-terror.

At the conclusion, the patient hearer responded:

"Well, gentlemen, the government has at present no vessel which can sink this Merrimac. (They were not, for state reasons, to know what the sly fox had up his sleeve.) The government is pretty poor; its credit is not good; its legal-tender notes are worth only forty cents on your Wall Street; and we have to pay you a high rate of interest on our loans. Now, if I were in your place, and had as much money as you represent, and was as badly skeered as you say you are—I'd go right back to New York and build some war-vessels and present them to the government."—(Authenticated by Schuyler Colfax, afterward vice-president under General Grant; and by Judge Davis, who presented the delegation.)

* * * * *

"IT PLEASES HER, AND IT DON'T HURT ME."

April, 1862, closed brilliantly for the Union, as New Orleans was captured. General Porter Phelps issued a proclamation which freed the slaves. As on previous occasions, when this bomb was brought out, the President had directed its being stifled and reserved for his occasion, there was wonder that he took no official notice of the premature flash. Taken to task by a friendly critic for his odd omission, he deigned to reply:

"Well, I feel about it a good deal like that big, burly, good-natured canal laborer who had a little waspy bit of a wife, in the habit of beating him. One day she put him out of the house and switched him up and down the street. A friend met him a day or two after, and rebuked him with the words:

"'Tom, as you know, I have always stood up for you, but I am not going to do so any longer. Any man may stand for a bullyragging by his wife, but when he takes a switching from her right out on the public highway, he deserves to be horsewhipped.'

"Tom looked up with a wink on his broad face, and, slapping the interferer on the back with a leg-of-mutton fist, rejoined:

"'Why, drop it! It pleases her and it don't hurt me!'"

* * * * *

"LET HIM SQUEAL IF HE WORKS."

One of the Northern war governors was admirably loyal and devoted to the reunion, but he was set on doing things his own way, and protested every time he was called on for men or material. Lincoln saw that he was willing, and was only like the lady who "methinks protests too much." So he told Secretary Stanton, who laid before him the objections:

"Never mind! These despatches do not mean anything. Go right ahead. The governor reminds me of a boy I knew at a launching. He was a small boy, chosen to fit the hollow in the midst of the ways where he should lie down, after knocking out the king-dog, which holds the ship on the stocks, when all other checks are removed. The boy did everything right, but yelled as if he was being murdered every time the keel rushed over him in the channel. I thought the hide was being peeled from his back, but he wasn't hurt a mite.

"The shipyard-master told me that the boy was always chosen for the job, doing his work well and never being hurt, but that he always squealed in that way.

"Now, that's the way with our governor; make up your mind that he is not hurt and that he is doing the work all right, and pay no attention to his squealing."

To his confidant, General Viele, the President said:

"We cannot afford to quarrel with the governors of the loyal States about collateral issues. We want their soldiers."

* * * * *

BRIGADIERS CHEAP—CHARGERS COSTLY.

The news was transmitted to the Executive that a brigadier-general and his escort of cavalry had been "gobbled up," the current and expressive term, by rebel raiders, near Fairfax Court-house, close enough to resound the echoes of the affray.

"I am sorry of the loss of the horses," deplored the President. "I mean that I can make a brigadier-general any day—but those horses cost the government a hundred and twenty-five to fifty dollars a head!"

* * * * *

TO CURE SINGING IN THE HEAD.

The key to the trammels which bore upon the several generals of the Army of the Potomac is found in the fears of the inhabitants of the capital that at the least weakness in its defenders, there would be a shifting of the two governments, and the Richmond one would replace that at Washington. [Footnote: This seems unlikely now, but General Lee and many competent judges clung to the belief that, had his General Early held his position at Gettysburg, Jefferson Davis, and not Abraham Lincoln, would have occupied Washington's seat—for a time, anyway! But IF—the story of the Civil War is studded with "Ifs."] But the navy was not considered in this relation. Hence, there was a proposition to draw the rebel forces from the North, by threatening the Southern seaports with naval attacks, and descents of the tars and marines. A deputation visited the President with this project. He listened to its unfolding with his proverbial patient attention, and rejoined:

"This reminds me of the case of a girl out our way, troubled with a singing in the head. All the remedies having been uselessly tried, a plain, common horse-sense sort of a fellow (he bowed to the deputation) was called in.

"'The cure is simple,' he said; 'what is called by sympathy—make a plaster of psalm tunes and apply to the feet; it will draw the singing down and out!'"—(Repeated by Frank Carpenter's "Recollections.")

* * * * *

BOWING TO THE BOY OF BATTLES.

Congressman W. D. Kelley wished to procure the admittance of a youth into the Naval School. Though a lad he had "shown the mettle of a man" on two serious occasions, while belonging to the gunboat Ottawa. The President has the right to send three candidates to the school yearly, who have served a year in the naval service. Thrilled by the recital of the youth's heroic conduct, the President wrote to the secretary of the navy to have the boy put on the list of his appointees. But the subject was found short of the age required. He would not be fourteen until September of that year, and it was but July.

Lincoln had the hero appear before him. He admired him frankly and altered the order so as to suit the later date. He bade the boy go home and have "a good time" during the two months, as about the last holiday he would get. The President had reconsidered his first impression that the "disturbance" was but "an artificial excitement."

"And that's the boy who did so gallantly in those two great battles!" he mused; "why, I feel that I should bow to him, and not he to me."—(Authority: Congressman W. D. Kelley; the person was Willie Bladen, U. S. N.)

* * * * *

WHEN WASHINGTON WAS ALL ONE TAVERN.

As men wining with Mars expect to sup with Pluto, the drinking at the capital during the war was horrifying. The bars were overflowing with officers, and while, as "Orpheus C. Kerr" was saying of the civil-service corps, that spilling red ink was very different from spilling red blood, the novices in uniform were staining their new coats with port. Coming out of the West with the unique recommendation, "This gentleman from Kentucky never drinks," President Lincoln had only the American standby, the ice-water pitcher, on his sideboard. And up to the last, even when the jubilation upon the war's close made many a stopper fly out of the tabooed bottle, he could say: "My example never belied the position I took when I was a young man." So he could reply to a New England women's temperance deputation, probably believing the caricaturists who pictured "Old Abe" mint-juleping with the eagle.

"They would be rejoiced if they only knew how much I have tried to remedy this great evil." Indeed, he was still "meddling" when he wrote and spoke against drunken habits in the army, especially among the officers.

* * * * *

"BREAK THE CRITTER WHERE SLIM!"

Lincoln's letters to his generals would be a revelation of character if it were not already famed. He warns "Fighting Joe" Hooker, in June, 1863, "not to get entangled on the Rappahannock, like an ox jumped half over a fence and liable to be torn by dogs, front and rear, without a fair chance to give one way or kick the other." Later: "Fight Lee, too, when opportunity offers. If he stays where he is, fret him—and fret him!" Finally: "If the head of Lee's army is at Martinsburg, and the tail on the plank road between Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville, the critter must be slim somewhere; could you not break him there?"

* * * * *

HOW GET HIM OUT?

During the avalanche of plans to conduct the suppression of the rebellion, a genius proposed what afterward seemed a forecast for Sherman's march to the sea. But at the time, Lincoln saw in it merely a desperate venture which would detail a rescue-party much more important.

"That reminds me," he said, with his whimsical smile, "of a cooper out my way, new at the trade and much annoyed by the head falling in as he was hooping in the staves around it. But the bright idea occurred to him to put his boy in to hold up the cover. Only when the job was completed by this inner support, the new problem rose: how to get the boy out?

"Your plan is feasible, sir; but how are you to get the boy out?"

(The story was originally credited to a Chinese cooper, to whom modern caskmaking was a mystery.)

* * * * *

"A PLEASURE TO PRESIDE, AT LAST!"

On the 4th of March, 1863, when Congress was closing the session, President Lincoln gave away the bride at a marriage ceremony held—by his invitation—in the House of Representatives' chamber. This seems a singular and high honor to the couple. Their preeminence and the function being acclaimed by all the notables connected with the field and the forum in the capital, was a characteristic testimonial to the comforters whose service to the soldier was inestimable. The pair were John A. Fowle and Elida Rumsey, the man from Boston, the lady from New York. They were both attendants on the hospitals at the front, when their acquaintance verged into community, and this eventful matrimony. Lincoln had met both, in his continuous calls at the hospitals, and offered the west wing of the Capitol building for the wedding. He gave away the bride, and in the records figure his name and those of the illustrious witnesses. He gave a huge basket of the finest flowers from the White House conservatory. He stayed to witness the dedication of the Soldier's Library, founded by Mr. Fowle, who had seen the arrant want of reading-matter by our soldiers—so few being illiterate. At the President's hint, Congress granted the ground for the library, but the Pension Office now occupies the site.