I have only answered your questions. No doubt my impressions have been colored by the sufferings I have seen. I trust matters will look brighter when the official reports come in. I would give all I possess to know how to rescue you from this ter rible war."

Lincoln's whole aspect suddenly changed, and he relieved his mind by telling a story.

"This reminds me, Governor," he said, "of an old farmer out in Illinois that I used to know. He took it into his head to go into hog raising. He sent out to Europe and imported the finest breed of hogs he could buy. The prize hog was put in a pen, and the farmer's two mischievous boys— James and John--were told to be sure not to let him out. But James, the worst of the two, let the brute out next day. The hog went straight for the boys, and drove John up a tree. Then the hog went for the seat of James's trousers, and the only way the boy could save himself was by holding on to the hog's tail. The hog would not give up his hunt nor the boy his hold! After they had made a good many circles around the tree, the boy's courage began to give out, and he shouted to his brother, 'I say, John, come down, quick, and help me let this hog go!' Now, Governor, that is exactly my case. I wish some one would come and help me let this hog go!"

It

This was a striking illustration of the sudden transitions to which Lincoln's nature was prone. sought relief in the most trying situations by recalling some parallel incident of a humorous character. His sense of humor never flagged. Even in his telegraphic correspondence with his generals we have instances of it which reflect his peculiar vein.

General Sherman, who, like Cæsar in this as in other respects, enjoys a joke even at his own expense, relates a story that illustrates this peculiarity. Soon after the battle of Shiloh the President promoted two officers to Major-Generalships. A good deal of dissatisfaction was expressed at this act. Among other critics of the President was General Sherman himself, who telegraphed to Washington, that, if such ill-advised promotions continued, the best chance for officers would be to be transferred from the front to the rear. This telegram was shown to the President. He immediately replied by telegraph to the General that, in the matter of appointments, he was necessarily guided by officers whose opinions and knowledge he valued and respected.

"The two appointments," he added, “referred to by you in your dispatch to a gentleman in Washington were made at the suggestion of two men whose advice and character I prize most highly:

I refer to Generals Grant and Sherman." General Sherman then recalled the fact that, in the flush of victory, General Grant and himself had both recommended these promotions, but that it had escaped his memory at the time of writing his telegraphic dispatch.

The oddity of Lincoln's reply is characteristic. He subsequently sent to General Sherman the right to promote, at his own choice, eight colonels under his command.

His feeling toward Sherman and Grant, at the close of the war, as well as his extreme sensitiveness to rebuke on the part of those he esteemed, is well illustrated by another incident, for which, also, I am indebted to General Sherman. In conversation with him-I think at Richmond-the President asked the General whether he could guess what had always attracted him to Grant and Sherman and led to a friendlier feeling for them than he had for others. "It was because," he said, "you never found fault with me, from the days of Vicksburg down."

There is a sermon in these words which suggests many reflections. The responsibility of office weighed heavily upon the President, but never overwhelmed him; yet the rebuke of a friend caused him the keenest pangs.

General Schenck once told me of being with

Lincoln on the occasion of his receiving bad news from the army. Placing his hands upon the General's knee and speaking with much emotion, he said, “You have little idea of the terrible weight of care and sense of responsibility of this office of mine. Schenck, if to be at the head of Hell is as hard as what I have to undergo here, I could find it in my heart to pity Satan himself."

It will be seen from this remark that Lincoln was sometimes weary of the great burden that had fallen on him, and that he would gladly have resigned it to others had this seemed possible without imperilling the national interests he had so close at heart.

The following war episode, related to me by Mr. W. H. Croffut, who has given much attention to the subject, will help to illustrate the willingness of Lincoln to put into other hands, and even to surrender to another political party, the administration of the Government, provided that the act could contribute toward the great end of peace and reunion. Mr. Croffut says:

I have forgotten the exact month to which the beginning of this narrative refers; indeed, I am not quite certain about the year, but it was winter time -probably the dawn of 1880. I had called at Thurlow Weed's, to inquire after the health of that aged man, then fourscore, and to enjoy hearing him

talk about the by-gone times in which he bore a distinguished part. His tall form reclined upon a lounge wheeled in front of a hearth blazing with cannel coal. As I casually mentioned General McClellan in the conversation, he raised himself on his elbow and said, "He might have been President as well as not." Responding to my expression of surprise and interest, he went on :

"I'll tell you what led up to it. About the middle of December, 1862, Seward telegraphed me to come to Washington. It had happened before that I had been summoned in the same way. I took it as a matter of course and caught the first train South. I got to Washington, and, after breakfast, went straight to the State Department. Mr. Seward was waiting for me. He took me right over to the White House, saying, 'The President wants

to see you.'

"We found the President deeply depressed and distressed. I had never seen him in such a mood. 'Everything goes wrong,' he broke out. 'The rebel armies hold their own; Grant is wandering around in Mississippi; Burnside manages to keep ahead of Lee; Seymour has carried New York, and, if his party carries and holds many of the Northern States, we shall have to give up the fight, for we can never conquer three-quarters of our countrymen, scattered in front, flank, and rear. What shall we do?'