"I remember one morning," says Mr. A. B. Chandler, "his coming into my office with a distressed expression on his face and saying to Major Eckert, 'Eckert, who is that woman crying out in the hall? What is the matter with her?' Eckert said he did not know, but would go and find out. He came back soon, and said that it was a woman who had come a long distance expecting to go down to the army to see her husband, that she had some very important matters to consult him about. An order had gone out a short time before to allow no women in the army, except in special cases. She was bitterly disappointed, and was crying over it. Mr. Lincoln sat moodily for a moment after hearing this story, and suddenly looking up, said, 'Let's send her down. You write the order, Major.' Major Eckert hesitated a moment, and said, 'Would it not be better for Colonel Hardie to write the order?' Yes,' said Mr. Lincoln, ' that is better; let Hardie write it.' The major went out, and soon returned, saying, 'Mr. President, would it not be better in this case to let the woman's husband come to Washington?' Mr. Lincoln's face lighted up with pleasure. Yes, yes,' he said; 'let's bring him up.' The order was written, and the woman was told that her husband would come to Washington. This done, her sorrows seemed lifted from Mr. Lincoln's heart, and he sat down to his yellow tissue telegrams with a serene face."

The futility of trying to help all the soldiers who found their way to him must have come often to Lincoln's mind. "Now, my man, go away, go away," General Fry overheard him say one day to a soldier who was pleading for the President's interference in his behalf; "I cannot meddle in your case. I could as easily bail out the Potomac with a teaspoon as attend to all the details of the army."

The President's relations with individual soldiers were, of course, transient. Washington was for the great body of soldiers, whatever their condition, only a half-way house between North and South. The only body of soldiers with which the President had long association was Company K

of the 150th Pennsylvania Volunteers. This company, raised in Crawford County, in northwestern Pennsylvania, reached Washington in the first days of September, 1862. September 6, Captain D. V. Derickson of Meadville, Pennsylvania, who was in command of the company, received orders to march his men to the Soldiers' Home, to act there as a guard to the President, who was occupying a cottage in the grounds.

66

"The next morning after our arrival," says Mr. Derickson, “the President sent a messenger to my quarters, stating that he would like to see the captain of the guard at his residence. I immediately reported. After an informal introduction and handshaking, he asked me if I would have any objection to riding with him to the city. I replied that it would give me much pleasure to do so, when he invited me to take a seat in the carriage. On our way to the city, he made numerous inquiries, as to my name, where I came from, what regiment I belonged to, etc.

"When we entered the city, Mr. Lincoln said he would call at General Halleck's headquarters and get what news had been received from the army during the night. I informed him that General Cullum, chief aid to General Halleck, was raised in Meadville and that I knew him when I was a boy. He replied, "Then we must see both the gentlemen.' When the carriage stopped, he requested me to remain seated, and said he would bring the gentlemen down to see me, the office being on the second floor. In a short time the President came down, followed by the other gentlemen. When he introduced them to me, General Cullum recognized and seemed pleased to see me. In General Halleck I thought I discovered a kind of quizzical look, as much as to say, 'Isn't this rather a big joke to ask the Commander-in-Chief of the Army down to the street to be introduced to a country captain?'

Supposing that the invitation to ride to the city with the President was as much to give him an opportunity to look over and interview the new captain as for any other purpose, I did not report the next morning. During the day I was in

formed that it was the desire of the President that I should breakfast with him and accompany him to the White House every morning, and return with him in the evening. This duty I entered upon with much pleasure, and was on hand in good time next morning; and I continued to perform this duty until we moved to the White House in November. It was Mr. Lincoln's custom, on account of the pressure of business, to breakfast before the other members of the family were up; and I usually entered his room at half-past six or seven o'clock in the morning, where I often found him reading the Bible or some work on the art of war. On my entering, he would read aloud and offer comments of his own as he read.

"I usually went down to the city at four o'clock and returned with the President at five. He often carried a small portfolio containing papers relating to the business of the day, and spent many hours on them in the evening.

I found Mr. Lincoln to be one of the most kind-hearted and pleasant gentlemen that I had ever met. He never spoke unkindly of any one, and always spoke of the rebels as 'those Southern gentlemen.'"*

This kindly relation begun with the captain, the President extended to every man of his company. It was their pride that he knew every one of them by name. "He always called me Joe," I heard a veteran of the guard say, a quaver in his voice. He never passed the men on duty without acknowledging their salute, and often visited their camp. Once in passing when the men were at mess, he called out, “That coffee smells good, boys; give me a cup." And on another occasion he asked for a plate of beans, and sat down on a camp-stool and ate them. Mrs. Lincoln frequently visited the company with the President, and many and many a gift to the White House larder from enthusiastic supporters of the Administration was sent to the boys-now a barrel of apple butter, now a quarter of beef. On holidays, Mrs. Lin

*Major D. V. Derickson in the Centennial Edition of the Meadville "Tribune-Republican."

coln made it a rule to provide Company K with a turkey

dinner.

Late in the fall of 1862, an attempt was made to depose the company. Every member of the guard now living can quote verbatim the note which the President wrote settling the matter:

EXECUTIVE MANSION, WASHINGTON,
November 1, 1862.

To Whom It May Concern: Captain Derickson, with his company, has been for some time keeping guard at my residence, now at the Soldiers' Retreat. He and his company are very agreeable to me, and while it is deemed proper for any guard to remain, none would be more satisfactory than Captain Derickson and his company. A. LINCOLN.

The welfare of the men, their troubles, escapades, amusements, were treated by the President as a kind of family matter. He never forgot to ask after the sick, often secured a pass or a furlough for some one, and took genuine delight in the camp fun.

"While we were in camp at the Soldiers' Home in the fall of 1862," says Mr. C. M. Derickson of Mercer, Pennsylvania, "the boys indulged in various kinds of amusement. I think it was the Kepler boys who introduced the trained elephant. Two men of about the same size, both in a stooped position, were placed one ahead of the other. An army blanket was then thrown over them so that it came about to their knees, and a trunk, improvised by wrapping a piece of a blanket around a small elastic piece of wood, was placed in the hands of the front man. Here you have your elephant. Ours was taught to get down on his knees, stand on one leg, and do various other tricks. While the elephant was going through his exercises one evening, the President strolled into camp. He was very much amused at the wonderful feats the elephant could perform, and a few evenings after he called again and brought a friend with him,

and asked the captain if he would not have the elephant brought out again, as he would like to have his friend see him perform. Of course it was done, to the great amusement of both the President and his friend."

No doubt much of the President's interest in Company K was due to his son Tad. The boy was a great favorite with the men, and probably carried to his father many a tale of the camp. He considered himself, in fact, no unimportant part of the organization, for he wore a uniform, carried a lieutenant's commission, often drilled with the men or rode on his pony at their head in reviews, and much of the time messed with them. One of the odd duties which devolved upon Company K was looking after Tad's goats. These animals have been given a place in history by Lincoln himself in telegrams to Mrs. Lincoln, duly filed in the records of the War Department: "Tell Tad the goats and father are very well, especially the goats," he wired one day; and again. "All well, including Tad's pony and the goats." They were privileged beings on the White House lawn, and were looked after by the company because of Tad's affection for them. They met an untimely end, being burned to death in a fire, which destroyed the White House stables, February 10, 1864.

The two most harowing consequences of war, the havoc of the battlefield and the disease of camp life, from the beginning to the end of the Civil War, centered in Washington. It was the point to which every man disabled in the Army of the Potomac must come sooner or later for care or to be transferred to the North. After battles, the city seemed turned into one great hospital. For days then a long, straggling train of mutilated men poured in. They came on flat cars or open transports, piled so close together that no attendant could pass between them; protected occasionally from the cold by a blanket which had escaped with