surprised to behold their President-elect at this time. He had on a faded hat, innocent of a nap; and his coat was extremely short, more like a sailor's pea-jacket than any other describable garment. It was the same outer garment that he wore from Harrisburgh to Washington, when he went on to be inaugurated. A well-worn carpet-bag, quite collapsed, comprised his baggage. After we had started to the depot, across lots, his servant came running after us and took the carpet-bag, but he was soon sent back after some forgotten thing, and we trudged on alone. Lincoln said to me: "I'm worrying some to know what to do with my house. I don't want to sell myself out of a home; and if I rent it, it will be pretty well used up before I get back." He also told me that Judge Pettit, formerly U. S. Senator from Indiana, and later one of the territorial judges of Kansas, had been to see him the night before, and was going to his old home, in Lafayette, on the same train that we were to go East on. The object of Pettit's visit was to get Lincoln to use his influence with the Republican senators to confirm his appointment as Federal Judge, for the just to be admitted state of Kansas. Buchanan was either willing to appoint him, or had appointed him; but he could not run the gauntlet of both the Republican senators, and the enemies in his own party. Singular to say, Lincoln was quite favorably impressed with his suit, although my recollection is, he declined to interfere. I expressed surprise to Lincoln, that he would even tolerate so dirty a politician as Pettit. Lincoln accounted for this, by saying, that Pettit had, by his course of late, gained the esteem and good-will of many of the leading Republicans of Kansas. As we approached the station, Lincoln said: "My hat hain't chalked on this road now, so I reckon I must get a ticket." I ridiculed him, and handing him the attenuated carpet-bag, I went into Mr. Bowen's office (superintendent of the road), and asked for a pass for Mr. Lincoln. Mr. Bowen was entirely alone-not even a clerk being present, it being breakfast-time for them-and, as he commenced to write a

pass, he suggested that I invite Lincoln in there to wait, the train not yet having come in from the west. Repairing to the common waiting-room, I found the President-elect surrounded by the few persons who were also waiting for the train, while he was industriously at work, tying the handles of his carpet-bag together with a string.

As soon as he was seated in Bowen's office, he said: "Bowen, how is business on your road now?" When he was answered, he said: "You are a heap better off running good road than I am playing President. When I first knew Whitney, I was getting on well-I was clean out of politics and contented to stay so; I had a good business, and my children were coming up, and were interesting to me: but now-here I am" and he broke off abruptly, as if his feelings overpowered him, and he changed the conversation into another channel. The train came immediately afterward, and we were joined by Judge Pettit and Senator Marshall, of Coles county, who lived at Charleston, and was going home. The little time that the train remained there, Lincoln devoted to anecdotes, for the benefit of Pettit especially, although the passengers in the traiu also gathered around to listen to the entertainment, and also to "behold the man."

I recollect, in particular, that Lincoln took pains, though not with ostentation, to secure an humble old lady, whom he knew, a double seat. He then devoted himself to me and my business; and when we met a train returning to Springfield, I left Lincoln and returned there.

After he was elected President, it was not unusual for him to walk about Springfield, in unfrequented places, alone and abstracted.

I once met him, with a large mass of mail matter-letters, papers, bundles, etc.—that he had just got from the post-office; his pockets were full and his arms full. He was in an unfrequented street, walking aimlessly, not

going to either his

'house, or his office, or the State House, but away from all. When I spoke to him he was apparently very glad to see me, and when I asked him where he was going, he said: "Nowhere in particular;" and he turned back with me. He seemed to want to get away from himself and his usual haunts, so suggestive in every way of mental arguish. I hope I may not be considered irreverent in expressing my belief that after he appreciated the deep responsibility which devolved upon him, his constant, unavailing prayer was: "Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as thou wilt."

I once read in a newspaper, that Lincoln went to Clinton to deliver a lecture on "Man, his Progress, etc.," and that nobody came to hear him, and that he went home with his lecture undelivered, and the paper added: "That don't look much like his being President." So I joked him about it when I saw him. He said, laughingly: "Don't mention that, for it plagues me some."

Lincoln, Swett and his wife, and myself, once were traveling in a two-seated carriage from Urbana to Danville in the fall of the year and night came on before we reached our destination, and our road lay through a river-bottom, heavily timbered, and very deep ditches on each side of an extremely narrow road: the road was likewise very muddy. The driver stopped, and said that safety required that some one go ahead and pilot him, as he could not see the way. I sprang out at once, and rolled up my pantaloons, and Lincoln followed suit. He took my arm, and we went ahead, and would shout back every minute, or oftener. This proved irksome, and Lincoln commenced singing to an old Methodist air his favorite doggerel couplet:

"Mortal man with face of clay,

Here to-morrow, gone to-day!"

and verses even more ridiculous: verses which he improvised and sang without regard to time, tune or metre.

This answered a two-fold purpose: it guided the driver and entertained us on that dismal October evening, on that wretched, muddy road, in that dark, melancholy stretch of woods. What effect this concert had on the owls and bats I am not advised: but it was noisy and ridiculous, and, at no expense to anybody, combined utility and diversion. This was thirty-six years ago, and all the dramatis personæ of that petite drama are now in the better land, except me alone.

On Friday, July 26, 1861, being a few days after the first battle at Bull Run, I reached Washington from the West, and called on the President, the Cabinet meeting having just broken up.

Stackpole, the messenger, carried my name in, and I was immediately admitted, when I found the President writing a brief note on a card, which, when completed, he read aloud, and handed to an old gentleman who was waiting for it. It read thus (in substance): "Mr. Chase-The bearer, Mr. in the Custom House, at Baltimore. If his recommendations are satisfactory (and I recollect them to have been so) the fact that he is urged by the Methodists should be in his favor, as they complain of us some. A. Lincoln."

wants

I remarked, jocularly, that by that philosophy he should treat the rebels better than he did, as they complained of us. some; to which he replied, drily, that they complained the wrong way. Stackpole, who had come in for something, took occasion to make hay while the sun shone, by observing that his people were Quakers (I believe), and they had received fewer offices than the people of any other denomination; but Lincoln paid no attention to the remark, and the old gentleman, after thanking him warmly, withdrew with the messenger.

I had no business at all with the President, except to pay my respects to him after a three months' absence from

Washington on official business; but he evidently was very glad to see me, and appeared as if he designed to appropriate me for the time being, in order to secure some needed rest and recreation from burdensome cares, by talking with me about the light and trivial matters we had experienced and seen together in his happier days; so I remained with him the entire afternoon, entirely alone, except a chance call from Secretary Seward, on a brief errand.

As the Secretary came in the President hailed him in a somewhat peremptory but good-natured manner: "Well, Govern-nuer, what is it now?" The Secretary seemed a mere trifle nettled, but still amused, at this abrupt greeting. His ostensible business related to some needed thing about New Mexico; the President interrupted him by remarking: "In other words, New Mexico has no govern-or nor govern-ment." He then gave the Secretary the instructions needed, when the latter immediately withdrew, fully impressed with the belief that the President had banished care and burdensome business, including consultations with his constitutional advisers, for the remainder of that day.

Later in the afternoon Stackpole brought in word that General, formerly Senator, James, of Rhode Island, was anxious to see the President, and that he must leave town that very afternoon.

The President said, carelessly: "Well, as James makes canning (cannon), I reckon I must see him." Then to Stackpole: "Tell him when I get through with Whitney I will see him." But he didn't mention the subject afterward (I expect James had got to be a great bore): and as I left, just before six o'clock, Stackpole told me that James waited till just before train time, and then left, soundly abusing the President and me, whom (having heard that I was from Illinois) he averred was some backwoods rail-splitter whom he was amusing with stories. The only work the President did on that afternoon was to sign his name to a mass of commis