they took up Mrs. Howe's

national victory at Gettysburg, as they took

spirited lyric, beginning with the line,

"Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord,

and made the prison walls rock with the melody. The Chaplain sang it to the meeting, and Mr. Lincoln requested its repetition. That was a song that he could appreciate; and it stirred him like a trumpet.

At another of these meetings, he was greatly interested and amused by a story told by General Fisk of Missouri. The General had begun his military life as a Colonel; and, when he raised his regiment in Missouri, he proposed to his men that he should do all the swearing of the regiment. They assented; and for months no instance was known of the violation of the promise. The Colonel had a teamster named John Todd, who, as roads were not always the best, had some difficulty in commanding his temper and his tongue. John happened to be driving a mule-team through a series of mudholes a little worse than usual, when, unable to restrain himself any longer, he burst forth into a volley of energetic oaths. The Colonel took notice of the offense, and brought John to an account. “John,” said he, “did n't you promise to let me do all the swearing of the regiment?" "Yes, I did, Colonel," he replied, "but the fact was the swearing had to be done then, or not at all, and you were n't there to do it.”

Mr. Lincoln enjoyed this story quite as much as he did the singing of the previous occasion, and gave himself up to laughter the most boisterous. The next morning, General Fisk attended the reception at the White House; and saw, waiting in the ante-room, a poor old man from Tennessee. Sitting down beside him, he inquired his errand; and learned that he had been waiting three or four days to get an audience, and that on his seeing Mr. Lincoln probably depended the life of his son, who was under sentence of death for some military offense. General Fisk wrote his case in outline on a card, and sent it in, with a special request that the President would see the man. In a moment, the order came; and past

morrow may

senators, governors and generals, waiting impatiently, the old man went into the President's presence. He showed Mr. Lincoln his papers; and he, on taking them, said he would look into the ease, and give him the result on the following day. The old man, in an agony of apprehension, looked up into the President's sympathetic face, and actually cried out: "Tobe too late! My son is under sentence of death! The decision ought to be made now!" and the streaming tears told how much he was moved. "Come," said Mr. Lincoln, "wait a bit, and I'll tell you a story;" and then he told the old man General Fisk's story about the swearing driver; and, as he told it, the old man forgot his boy, and both the President and his listener had a hearty laugh together at its conclusion. Then he wrote a few words which the old man read, and in which he found new occasion for tears; but the tears were tears of joy, for the words saved the life of his son.

Only a few months before Mr. Lincoln died, he was waited upon at the White House by about two hundred members of the commission, who had been holding their annual meeting. The chairman of the commission, George H. Stuart, addressed a few words to Mr. Lincoln, speaking of the debt which the country owed him. "My friends," said Mr. Lincoln in reply, "you owe me no gratitude for what I have done: and I-" and here he hesitated, and the long arm came through the air awkwardly, as if he might be misunderstood in what he was going to say, "and I, I may say, owe you no gratitude for what you have done; just as, in a sense, we owe no gratitude to the men who have fought our battles for us. I trust that this has all been for us a work of duty;" and at the mention of that word, the homely, sad face was irradiated with the light of a divine emotion. Looking around for encouragement into the faces of the eager group, he then proceeded in the simplest words to say that all gratitude was due to the Great Giver of all good. At the close of his remarks, Mr. Stuart, who cared as little for precedent as Mr. Lincoln himself, asked him if he had any objection, then and there, to a word of prayer. Quietly, but very cordially, as if he were

grateful for the suggestion, he assented; and Bishop Janes offered in the East Room a brief and fervent petition. It was a memorable scene, which must always be reverted to with interest by every Christian patriot.

On another occasion, when a number of the members of the commission were holding an interview with the President, Rev. J. T. Duryea of New York referred to the trust that they were encouraged to repose in the Providence of God, and to the fact that appeal was so constantly made to it in the prayers of Christian people that even children were taught to pray for the President in their simple morning and evening petitions. "If it were not for my firm belief in an over-ruling Providence," responded Mr. Lincoln, "it would be difficult for me, in the midst of such complications of affairs, to keep my reason on its seat. But I am confident that the Almighty has his plans, and will work them out; and, whether we see it or not, they will be the wisest and best for us. I have always taken counsel of him, and referred to him my plans, and have never adopted a course of proceeding without being assured, as far as I could be, of his approbation. To be sure, he has not conformed to my desires, or else we should have been out of our trouble long ago. On the other hand, his will does not seem to agree with the wish of our enemy over there (pointing across the Potomac). He stands the judge between us, and we ought to be willing to accept his decisions. We have reason to anticipate that it will be favorable to us, for our cause is right." It was during this interview that the fact was privately communicated to a member of the commission, that Mr. Lincoln was in the habit of spending an early hour each day in prayer.

It was during this interview, also, that, on some allusion being made to the unfriendly personal criticisms of the press, he said: "It has been asserted that we are conducting the present administration in the interest of a party, to secure a re-election. It is said that appointments in the army are made with this view, and that the removals are intended to put promising rivals out of the way. Now, if any man shows

himself to be able to save the country, he shall have my hearty support. If he wants to be president, he ought to be, and I will help him. The charge is absurd. What matters it who is chosen the next president, if there is to be no next presidency? What matters it who is appointed pilot for the next voyage, if the ship is going down this voyage?" When allusion was made to the carping spirit of some of the professed friends of the government, who, distinguishing between the administration and the government, condemned the former while pretending to defend the latter, he said: "There is an important sense in which the government is distinct from the administration. One is perpetual, the other is temporary and changeable. A man may be loyal to his government, and yet oppose the peculiar principles and methods of the administration. I should regret to see the day in which the people should cease to express intelligent, honest, generous criticism upon the policy of their rulers. It is true, however, that, in time of great peril, the distinction ought not to be so strongly urged; for then criticism may be regarded by the enemy as opposition, and may weaken the wisest and best efforts for the public safety. If there ever was such a time, it seems to me it is

now."

An illustration of Mr. Lincoln's interest in the efforts of religious men, is found in his treatment of a case brought before him by Rev. Mr. Duryea, whose name has already been mentioned. Colonel Loomis, commandant at Fort Columbus, on Governor's Island, was to be removed because he had passed the legal limit of age for active service. His religious influence was so powerful that the Chaplain of the post appealed to Mr. Duryea to use his influence for the good officer's retention in the service. Accordingly, appeal was made to the President for that object, purely on religious grounds. "What does Mr. Duryea know of military matters?" inquired Mr. Lincoln, with a smile, of the bearer of his petition. "Nothing," replied the gentleman; "and he makes no request on military considerations. The record of Colonel Loomis for fifty years, in the War Department, will furnish these. He

asks simply to retain the influence of a man whose Christian character is pure and consistent, who sustains religious exercises at the fort, leads a weekly prayer-meeting, and teaches a Bible class in the Sabbath School." Mr. Lincoln replied: "That is his highest possible recommendation. Take this petition to the Secretary of War, with my approval." The result was the retention of Colonel Loomis at his post, until his services were needed in important court-martial business.

Mr. Lincoln's habits at the White House were as simple as they were at his old home in Illinois. He never alluded to himself as "President," or as occupying "the Presidency.” His office, he always designated as "this place." "Call me Lincoln," said he to a friend,-"Mr. President" had become so very tiresome to him. "If you see a newsboy down the street, send him up this way," said he to a passenger, as he stood waiting for the morning news at his gate. Friends cautioned him against exposing himself so openly in the midst of enemies; but he never heeded them. He frequently walked the streets at night, entirely unprotected; and he felt any cheek upon his free movements as a great annoyance. He delighted to see his familiar western friends; and he gave them always a cordial welcome. He met them on the old footing, and fell at once into the accustomed habits of talk and story-telling. An old acquaintance, with his wife, visited Washington. Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln proposed to these friends a ride in the presidential carriage. It should be stated, in advance, that the two men had probably never seen each other with gloves on in their lives, unless when they were used as protection from the cold. The question of each-Mr. Lincoln at the White House, and his friend at the hotel-was, whether he should wear gloves. Of course, the ladies urged gloves; but Mr. Lincoln only put his in his pocket, to be used or not, according to circumstances. When the presidential party arrived at the hotel, to take in their friends, they found the gentleman, overcome by his wife's persuasions, very handsomely gloved. The moment he took his seat, he began to draw off the clinging kids, while Mr. Lincoln began to draw his on. "No! no!