year, such as were required of his official position, held a few public receptions to gratify the curiosity of the Washington peop

pon the President and Mrs. Lincoln for indulging in worldly amusements. These thoughtless writers did not know that during the reception, which was in honor of the diplomatic corps, the President and Mrs. Lincoln both slipped away from their g

o his box to express his thanks for the pleasure they had afforded him and to ask questions about the play. He was particularly fond of Shakespeare, and attended the presentation of his plays as frequently as his official cares would permit; he found great diversion in their study, and could repeat many passages that he learned from

re wearing upon him. He was not fond of games, although he sometimes played backgammon with his boys. For a time he practised basket-ball for exercise, but did not enjoy it. He had little out-door life; it was limited to a daily drive to and from the Soldiers' Home or to some military camp. He enjoyed the saddle and was a good rider, although in the long-tailed coat and tall silk hat which he always wore he made a grotesque figure on ho

d patriot were here to take my place for a

undreds of important duties were pressing upon him, he never denied an attentive ear and a cheerful word. He was a genuine democrat in his feelings and practices, and, regardless of public affairs, listened patiently and consi

e too tired to see any more people this afternoon. Have them

ach one considers his business of great importance, and I must

y them that he felt that he was not attending to military affairs and matters of public policy as closely as he should. He compared himself to a man who was so busy letting ro

come and see me, for now I have

ate in every way except as concerned his labor, and in that he was tireless. He had the rare and valuable faculty of laying out work for others and being able to give instructions clearly and concisely. He loaded his Cabinet and his secretaries to the limit of their strength, but was always considerate and thoughtful of their comfort. Three of his secret

ved. He was melancholy by nature and inclined to be morbid, and it was this keen enjoyment

he bade us good-by and thanked -- for what he had told him, he again brightened up for a moment and asked him in

ing as a postmaster in

t a little in alarm, as if he suspected a sudde

cket. Everybody I've seen for days past has had foreign ministers and collectors and all kinds, and

among the sorrows of war. This habit was the result of his early associations, when the corner store was the club of the frontiersman and the forum for intellectual combats as well as the stage for entertainments. There Lincoln shone as the most brilliant planet that ever illuminated the communities in which he lived, and there he developed the gift which was to afford him so much pleasure and so great re

the popular supposition that most of Mr. Lincoln's stories were original, but he said, 'I have originated but two stories in my life, but I tell tolerably well other people's stories.' Riding the circuit for many years, and stopping at country taverns where were gathered the lawyers, jurymen, witnesses, and clients, they would sit up all night narrating to each other thei

ists came to him and insisted that the reason the North did not win was because the soldiers drank whiskey and thus brought down the curse of the Lord upon them. There was a mischievous twinkle in Linco

es district attorneys to defend them; but when this appropriation was made, with one accord, they said that they would hire their own lawyers and applied for the cash; which reminded the President of a man in Illinois whose cabin was burned down, and, according to the kindly custom of early days in the West, his neighb

like to see him. Writing his name on a card, he added the line, "Holds no office and wants none." The card was taken to President Lincoln, who, instantly jumping up, said to the attendant, "Show him up; he is a curio

of Indian Affairs. "There were crowds in and out of the White House," said Mrs. McCulloch, "and during the reception Mr. Lincoln slipped quietly into the room and sto

you, ladies, for I know

t, I do want something; I want

sked, adding, 'I hope it

Times, because it does nothing but

he press or the people. But never mind the Chicago Tim

men to examine a newly invented "repeating" gun, the peculiarity of whic

o. Now, have any of you heard of any machine or invention for

f the injustice of Mr. Greeley's criticisms and the false light in which they

n the United States? The people will then understand

d of three weeks I will be convicted out of my own mouth of all the things he charges against me. No man, whether he be private citizen or President of the United States,

INCOLN AND

now in the War Department

the entire administration of Lincoln, has given us this

ned and all who were waiting to be admitted. The crowd would rush in, throng in the narrow room, and one by one would make their wants known. Some came merely to shake hands, to wish him Godspeed; their errand was soon done. Others came asking help or mercy; they usually pressed forward, careless in their pain as to what ears should overhear their prayer. But there were many who lingered in the rear and leaned against the wall, hoping each to be the last, that they might in tête-à-tête unfold their schemes for their own advantage or their neighbor's hurt. These were often disconcerted by the President's loud and hearty, 'Well, friend, what can I do for you?' which c

an hour's airing; at six o'clock he dined. He was one of the most abstemious of men; the pleasures of the table had few attractions for him. His breakfast was an egg and a cup of coffee; at luncheon he rarely took more than a biscuit and a glass of milk, a plate of fruit in its season; at

him upon them. He would shake hands with thousands of people, seemingly unconscious of what he was doing, murmuring some monotonous salutation as they went by, his eye dim, his thoughts far withdrawn; then suddenly he would see some familiar face,-his memory for faces was very good,-and his eye would brighten and his whole form grow attentive; he would greet the visitor with a hearty grasp and a ringing word and dismiss him with a cheery laugh that filled the Blue Room with infectious good-nature. Many people

ion and study. He had a fancy for drawing up railway time-tables, and would conduct an imaginary train from Chicago to New York with perfect precision. He wrote childish verses, which sometimes attained the unmerited honors of print. But this bright, gentle, and studious child sickened and died in February, 1862. His father was profoundly moved by his death, though he gave no outward sign of his trouble, but kept about his work the same as ever. His bereaved heart seemed afterwards to pour out its fulness on his youngest child. 'Tad' was a merry, warm-blooded, kindly little boy, perfectly lawless, and full of odd fancies and inventions, the

e was not often suffered to be alone; he frequently passed the evening there with a few friends in frank and free conversation. If the company was all of one sort he was at his best; his wit and rich humor had full play; he was once more the Lincoln of the Eighth Circuit, the cheeriest of talkers, the riskiest of story-te

ing aloud. He passed many of the summer evenings in thi

excessively fond. He often read aloud 'The Haunted House.' He would go to bed with a volume of Hood in his hands, and would sometimes rise at midnight and, traversing the long halls of the Executive Mansion in his night-clothes, would come to his secretary's room and read aloud something that especially pleased him

inefficient. A censorship of all matter filed at the Washington office of the telegraph, for transmission to different Northern cities, was exercised by a succession of ignorant individuals, some of whom had to be hunted up at whiskey shops when their signature of approval was desired. A Congressional investigation showe

, and would endeavor to mollify their wrath by telling them a story. One morning in the winter of 1862, when two angry journali

ome downstairs and I will show you the origin of

pened the door of a larder and solemnly point

was raised by Deacon Buffum at Manchester, up in New Hampshire. Who can

ssly for the purpose of inspecting the old jail in which he was confined for several weeks for being an abolitionist, but, much to his disa

, Garrison? The first time you couldn't get out o

andsome and attractive and endeavored to use her attractions upon the President. After listening to her a little while, he concluded, as he afterwards expl

anton, is smarter th

he President suspected was a pretext, but he took her at her word and gave

ons who want to work. Set them at it if possible. Wantin

inco

Chamber in a state of intoxication,-just drunk enough to be solemn,-and, as he dropped

the spirit of m

ever," retorted the P

ion to urging his fitness for the place, appealed to the President's sympathy on the ground that the candidate was in bad health, and a

are eight other men after this place, and

of the death and burial of a certain prominent Illinois politician who was noted for his vanity

have that kind of a funeral,

d. It was a story of a motherly hen who was struggling to raise her brood and teach them to lead honest and useful lives, but in her efforts she was greatly annoyed by a mischievous fox who made sad havoc with her o

criticise certain acts of his administ

din, stand up a little straighter-Blondin, stoop a little more-go a little faster-lean a little more to the north-lean a little more to the south?' No, you would hold your breath as well as your tongue, and keep yo

or remote, for Executive clemency, and if that was impossible, he invariably gave an order for the postponement of the penalty until a further investigation could be made. A very flagrant case was brought to him of a soldier who had demoralized his regiment by throwing down his gun and running away in battle, and by trying to shield his own cowardice by inducing others to imitate him. When tried by court-martial there was no defence. It was shown that he was an habitual thief, had robbed his comrades, and that he had no p

with this, judge, is to p

this supposed levity of the President in a case of

ce-in-the-face-of-the-enemy,' but I call them 'leg cases' for short; and I will put it to you; I leave it for you to

s son had been convicted of unpardonable crimes and sentence

ou. Listen to this telegram I rece

ere with the courts-martial of the army. You

Butl

exclaimed, "By jingo! Butler or no Butler, here goes!" Writ

o be shot until fur

am Li

I thought it was a pardon. You ma

acquainted with me. If your son never dies till orders come from me

t of the enemy, tried, convicted, and sentenced to be shot. A day or two before the execution Lincoln happened to visit that division of the army, and, learning of the case, asked permission to see the boy. He entered the tent that was used for a prison, talked to him kindly, inquired about h

to trust you and send you back to the regiment. But I have been put to a great deal of trouble on your account. I have had

is something to pay you, and I will find it after a little. There is the bounty in the savings bank, and I guess we could borrow some money by a mortgage on the farm. Then my pay is something, and if you would wait until pay day I am sure the boys would help; so we could make it up if it isn't more than five or six hundred dollars.' 'But it is a great deal more than that,' he said. 'My bill is a very large one. Your frie

e right thing! If any of you have the chance, I wish you would tell President Lincoln that I have never forgotten the kind words he said to me at the Chain Bridge; that I have tried to be a good soldier and true to the flag; that I should hav

next morning he called at the White House and gave the President the facts. The man had been absent a year from his family, and, without leave, had gone

is family, and they ought not to shoot him for that." So he called his secretary and sent a telegram suspending the sentence. He exclaimed, "Get off

o the White House late at night, after the President had retired, forced the way

t not be shot

I do not believe shooting will do him

who is the little boy?' an inquiry which neither the Senator nor myself could answer. The lad, however, immediately replied that he had come to Washington in the hope of obtaining a situation as page in the House of Representatives. The President began to say that he must go to Captain Goodnow, the head door-keeper of the House, as he had nothing to

give this good little b

inco

e day after the wedding to rejoin his command in the Army of the Potomac. After some time he obtained leave of absence, returned to Philadelphia, and started on a brief honeymoon journey with his bride. A movement of the army being imminent, the War Department issued a peremptory order requiring all absent officers to rejoin their regiments by a certain day, on penalty of dismissal in case of disobedience

promise you, if you will restore h

hy and a half-amused smile at her earnestness, and as

't wonder at his anxiety to get back, and if he stayed a little longer than he ought to have done we'll hav

her somewhat curtly. As it happened, on her way down the War Department stairs, her hopes chilled by the Sec

, have you seen

he seemed very angry with me for going

e,' said he. 'I will see

add that, not long after, he was killed at the battle of Gettysburg, thus

friends was a prisoner of war and not in good health. Knowing the boy's father to be a Union man, Mr. Bates conceived the idea of

ran off and entered the rebel army. The young fool has been captured, is a prisoner of war, and his old broken-hearted father has asked me to send him home, promising, of course, to keep him there. I

ed from the Peace Conference on the James, in 1864, where he met Messrs. Stephens, Campbell, and Hunter, he related some of his conversations with them. He sai

the case, we are all guilty of

, that is so." And Mr

your view of our case, but we never had much

contemplated executing any of the insurgents for their treason. There is no evidence that he desired any of them to lea

he war must necessarily soon come to an end, and wanted to know whether he should try

to a bar-tender for a lemonade, and while it was being prepared whispered to him, 'And couldn't ye put a little brandy in it all

ent in certain quarters for exemplary punishment, by quoting the words of David to his nephews, who were asking for vengeance on Shimei because "he cursed the Lord's

s which could not be set aside and accompanied them by a lesson of value. An officer once complained to him, with great indignation, that General Sherman was a tyrant and a bul

had accused him of some misconduct and th

, in a confidential whisper, "I wouldn't repeat t

delphia, stating that a man had been arrested in that city for

and if I had," he added, humorously, "it is

on, Mr. Nicolay thought h

r autograph? You gave it to him upon a half-sheet of note-paper. The scoundrel doub

trick, is it?" s

him?" inquired Mr. Nicola

ween the words, "I don't see but that he

ad in the United States either North or South-and sentenced to be hanged. An extraordinary effort was made to have Lincoln pardon him. Mr. Smith deemed it his duty to go to Washington and protest against clemency. Lincoln took from his desk a reprieve already prepared and la

s to have a human being die when you feel

executed

nt on that account, nolens volens, and appealed to the President for an appointment on staff

eneral commanding a brigade, division, or corps. The major admitted that he had not brought such an application, for he had not thought it necessary. "It cannot be done," said the President, "without such a request. I have no more pow

her to obtain his pardon. The father appeared in Washington with a petition numerously signed. I introduced him to the President, to whom I also handed the petition. Mr. Lincoln put on his spectacles, threw himself back in his chair and stretched his long legs and read the document. When finished, he turned to me and asked if I met a man on the stairs. 'Well,' said Mr. Lincoln, 'his errand was to get a man pard

ss the Potomac before the advancing columns of Lee's army, with one gun of his battery on the bank of the river below Edwards Ferry. It read about thus: "I have the whole rebel army in my front. Send me

shington, had resulted in the surprise and capture of a brigadier-g

al's place in five minutes, but those m

an old gray shawl, wearing usually a shockingly bad hat, and carrying a worse umbrella, came up the steps into the building. Secretary Stanton, who knew Mr. Lincoln's midnight habits, gave a standing order that, althou

hen it was raining very hard, as he saw us at the door, ready to escort him, he addressed us in these words:

orders from Mr. Stanton not to allow you to return

on should learn that you had let me return alone, he would h

youth. He had been shot through the left side of the upper part of the face, and the ball, passing from one side to the other, had put out both his eyes. He could not have been over sixteen or seventeen years of age, and, aside from his blindness, he had a very beautiful face. Mr. Lincoln extended his hand to him, and while he held it he asked him, with a voice trembling with emotion, his name, his regiment, and where he lived. The young man answered these questions and stated that he lived in Michig

government. Then General Lee undertook "to meet General Grant with the hope that ... it may be found practicable to submit the subjects of controversy ... to a convention," etc. Grant immediately wired Lee's letter to Mr. Stanton, who received it at the Capitol on the last night of the session of Congress, where the President, attended by his Cabinet, had gone, as usual, to sign bills. Having read the telegram, Mr. Stanton handed it to the President without comment. By this time Lincoln felt himself completel

inor or purely military matter. He instructs me to say that you are not to decide, discuss, or confer upon any political questions. Such questions the Presi

reat spirit on March 25, and from that day until April 7 there was fighting all along the line. In the mean time Lincoln went down to City Point, where Grant had his head-quarters, on the James River a few miles below Richmond, and t

desire to avoid further bloodshed, and asked for terms. Grant answered that there was only one condition, that the officers and men surrendered should be disqualified from taking up arms again. Lee replied the next day that he did not think the emergency had arisen for the surrender of his army, but offered to meet Grant at ten o'clock the next morning on the old stage line to Richmond between the pickets of the two armies. Grant answered that "the ter

resident Lincoln's order sent from the Capital on the night of March 3. No one knows whether Lincoln ever called his attention to that fact. There is no record of a reprimand or even a comment from the President, and it is probable that his joy and gratitude were so overwhelming that he did not

sm of the public over the news from Appomattox with greater gratification. The story of his visit to Richmond is told in Chapter VI. Upon his return to W

s last speech, in which he departed from the habit of reticence he had practised throughout the war

years before. General Robert Anderson performed that thankful duty; the Rev. Matthias Harris, the former chaplain of Fort Sumter, offered prayer; General

unparalleled burdens and sufferings of four bloody years, and permitted him to behold this auspicious confirmation of that nationa

d had exactly the same dream before the battles of Antietam, Murfreesborough, Gettysburg, Vicksburg, and other great victories. Although the members of the Cabinet were accustomed to similar revelations of that mysticism which was one of Lincoln's characteristics, they were greatly impressed; but Grant dismissed it with the comment that there was no victory at Murfreesborough, and that the battle there had no i

nce of opinion and lack of information concerning the proposed regulations for governing trade between the St

which would allow him time to restore order and civil authority without interference. He expressed sympathy with the people of the South and a desire to avoid further bloodshed and exhibitions of resentment or vindictiveness. He believed that they

he were driving sheep; "let down the bars; scare them off! Enough lives have be

oln Cabinet, and adds that, as the President dismissed his advisers, he urged them to give the

ing back to Springfield to practise law. His heart was overflowing with gratitude to the Heavenly Father, he said, for all His goodness, and particularly for the close of the war and the triumph of the Union arms, for there would be no further bloodshed or distress. The members of his family and his secretaries

WILKE

hotograp

ed them that he did not; and, as they were leaving the White House, Ward Lamon, the United States Marshal of the District of Columbia, and one of his oldest friends, called to ask a pardon for an old soldier who had been conv

ow how the Patago

Mr. Lincoln,"

hen the pile of shells grows to be higher than the house, why, they pick up stakes and move. Now,

curtain rose. About ten o'clock John Wilkes Booth, a dissipated young actor and fanatical sympathizer of the South, pushed his way through the crowd to the President's box, showed a card to the usher who had been placed at the door to keep out inquisitive people, and was allowed to enter. The eyes of the President and his companions were fixed upon the stage, so that his entrance was unnoticed. Carrying a knife in his left hand, Booth approached within arm's length of the President and fi

be present forced their way through the crowd to the President's box. As soon as a passage could be cleared, the President was carried across the street and laid upon a bed in a small house, where Mrs. Lincoln followed him almost overcome by the shock from which she never recovered. Major Rathbone, exhausted by the loss of blood, was carried home. Messengers were

y, it would have brought instant death. He never recovered consciousness, but lingered through the night and died at twenty-two minutes past seven in the morning. Dr. Gurley, pastor of the New York Avenue Presbyterian Church, which the President attended, was

him. His automatic moaning, which had continued through the night, ceased; a look of unspeakable peace came upon his worn features. At twenty-two minutes after seven he died. Stanton broke the silence by say