ment by water to Urbana, from whence he could march into Richmond, but made no allusion to any letter from the President, or to the questions asked. Railroad trains at that moment were speeding from Manassas loaded with supplies for the Confederate army. Jefferson Davis had read the order of President Lincoln. General Johnston had read it. They comprehended its meaning. They knew that with only a little more than 40,000 troops, the Union army of 150,000 could easily seize the railroad south of Manassas. More than 5,000,000 pounds of food had been accumulated, all of which was sent south of the Rapidan.

There was a general at Cairo, also a commodore, who had no desire to wait until February 22d before moving. "General Grant and myself," wrote Commodore Foote to General Halleck, "are of the opinion that Fort Henry can be carried by four gunboats and troops."

"From Fort Henry," wrote General Grant, "it will be easy to oper ate either on the Cumberland, twelve miles distant, on Memphis, or Columbus."

Feb. 2.

Fort Henry was on the Tennessee River, near the line between Kentucky and Tennessee. Fort Donelson was on the Cumberland. Admiral Foote, with four gunboats, attacked Fort Henry and compelled its surrender. A week passed and 14,000 prisoners were captured at Fort Donelson by General Grant. This movement forced the Confederates to evacuate Kentucky. The victories electrified

the country.

He

President Lincoln had been called from the retirement of his home in the capital of Illinois to the executive mansion of the nation. could find no time for study or contemplation. His oldest son, Robert, was in Harvard University, but Willie and "Tad" made the White House ring with their joyous shouts. (') They connected the many bellwires, so when one was pulled every bell in the house began to tinkle. They slid down the balusters, and made themselves at home in every apartment. When the President entered the breakfast - room they climbed into his lap, pulled his ears, ran their fingers through his hair. (Both boys were seized with sickness. In addition to the weight of public cares came anxious days and sleepless nights to the President. How could he sleep when he saw that Willie was to be taken from him? "Why is it? Why is it? This is the hardest trial of my life," he said to the nurse. "Have you ever had any such trial?” he

asked.

"Yes, Mr. Lincoln. I am a widow. My husband and my two chil

dren are in heaven, and I can say that I can see the hand of my Heavenly Father in it. I did not love Him so much before my affliction as I do now."

"How has that come about?"

"God is my Father, and I know that He does everything well. I trust Him."

"Did you submit fully under the first loss?"

"Oh no, not wholly; but as one after the other went, I did submit, and am very happy."

"I am glad to hear that. Your experience will be a help to me." The young life faded away, and the heart-broken father stood beside the coffin, looking for the last time upon Willie's face.

"Mr. Lincoln," said the nurse, "a great many people are praying for you to-day."

"I am glad to hear that. I want them to pray for me. I need their prayers; and I will try to go to God with my sorrow. I wish I had that childlike faith you speak of. I trust God will give it to me. My mother had it. She died many years ago. I remember her prayers; they have always followed me. They have clung to me through life." (*)

When all that was mortal of his child was laid to rest, the President went on with his duties for one week. On the succeeding Thursday he shut out all visitors, and gave way to his grief. Again, when the day came, his doors were closed. The old-time melancholy was taking possession of him, increasing as the weeks went by.

Little did Rev. Francis Vinton, rector of Trinity Church, New York, know, when he entered the cars for a visit to friends in Washington, how divine Providence was going to use him. He was acquainted with Mrs. Edwards, sister of Mrs. Lincoln, who was in Washington. He also had met Mrs. Lincoln, who, learning he was in the city, informed him in regard to the melancholy of the President. He visited the White House.

"Mr. President," said Mr. Vinton, "it is natural that you should mourn for your son-one whom you so tenderly loved; but is it not your duty to rise above the affliction? Your duties are to the living. They are far greater than those of a father to his son. You are at the head of the nation-a father of the people; and are you not unfitting yourself for a right exercise of the responsibility that God has laid upon you? You ought not to mourn for your son as lost-that is not Christianity, but heathenism. Your son is above. Do you not remem

ber that passage in the Gospels, "God is not the God of the dead, but of the living?"

The President is sitting on the sofa, listening as if dazed.

"Alive! alive! Do you say that Willie is alive? Pray do not mock

me."

He rises and looks with intense earnestness at Mr. Vinton. "Yes, Mr. Lincoln, alive. Jesus Christ has said it."

He clasps the clergyman in his arms.

"ALIVE! alive!" he exclaims. Tears are rolling down his cheeks. "Yes, Mr. Lincoln, it is one of God's most precious truths. You remember that the Sadducees, when questioning Jesus, had no other conception than that Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob were dead and buried; but Jesus said, 'Now that the dead are raised, even Moses showed at the bush, when he called the Lord the God of Abraham, and the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob. For He is not a God of the dead, but of the living: for all live unto Him.' God has taken your son from you for some good end-possibly for your good. Doubt it not. I have a sermon upon this subject which possibly may interest you."

FRANCIS VINTON.

was so impressed by its treatment of the Resurrection and Immortality that he read it again and again, and caused it to be copied. No longer was Thursday a day for seclusion. With unwonted cheerfulness he took up the burden of the nation. The thought that in the radiant future he would once more clasp his boy in his arms made his sorrow easier to bear than ever before, (°) and he cheerfully turned thoughts to the affairs of the nation.

his

of The Baltimore and Ohio Railroad had been closed by the burning the bridge at Harper's Ferry, and the destruction of the company's shops

and engines at Martinsburg. The President was very anxious that the railroad should once more be opened. McClellan informed him that he contemplated a grand strategic movement, which would result, he was confident, in the capture of the Confederate troops at Winchester and the reopening of the road. He would put down a pontoon-bridge at Harper's Ferry, which would deceive the enemy, they thinking it was only for a temporary purpose; but the real, substantial bridge would be the mooring of a line of boats which he was having built, and a bridge laid upon them. The President was delighted.

"A glad surprise awaits the country, which will restore the confidence of the people in McClellan," he said to a member of the Cabinet. "Do you really think so?"

"Yes. He has left no loop-hole for escape. He has said to Stanton and myself that if this move fails he will have nobody to blame but himself." (")

General Hooker, with a body of troops, at the same time was to cross the Potomac below Washington and capture the batteries on the Virginia side.

On the day fixed for the surprise, a little before midnight, a telegram was received by the President, dated at Sandy Hook, February 26, 10.30 P.M.:

"The bridge was splendidly thrown by Captain Duane, assisted by Lieutenants Babcock, Reese, and Cross. It was one of the most difficult operations of the kind ever performed. I recommend Captain Duane to be made a major by brevet, for his energy and skill in this matter; also Lieutenants Babcock, Reese, and Cross, of the corps of engineers, to be captains by brevet."

The bridge was not composed of canal-boats, but ordinary pontoons. The officers thus recommended had stood upon the shore and told the soldiers belonging to the engineer's corps to take the boats from the wagons, launch them in the river, paddle and anchor them, and lay the stringers and planking. No Confederates were near, no picket looking on from the Virginia side. The despatch went on:

"We have 8500 infantry, eighteen guns, and two squadrons of cavalry on the Virginia side. I have examined the ground, and seen that the troops are in proper position and are ready to resist an attack. Burns's brigade will be here in a couple of hours and will cross at daybreak. Four more squadrons of cavalry and several more guns pass here. Reports that G. W. Smith, with 15,000 men, is expected at Winchester."

The town of Winchester is between twenty and thirty miles from

Sandy Hook. There were no Confederate troops between the two points and only a small force at Winchester. The despatch continued:

"We will attempt the canal-boat bridge to-morrow. The spirit of the troops is most excellent. They are in a mood to fight anything." (12)

It was an inspiriting message. At last McClellan was doing something. Just what he intended to accomplish after getting the troops across the river the President did not know, except, possibly, to make Hooker's work easier down-stream. He read the telegram and retired for the night, happy in the thought that a portion of the army was in

motion.

Feb. 27.

There was no telegram upon his table when the President sat down to work the next morning. The forenoon passed without further information. The afternoon waned, but neither the Presi dent nor Secretary Stanton had received any news from Sandy Hook. General Marcy, chief of staff to McClellan, who had been left in Washington to carry out his orders, at one o'clock received this despatch:

'Do not send the regular infantry until further orders. Give Hooker directions not to move until further orders."

Two hours later came the following to Marcy :

"The difficulties here are so great that the order for Keyes's movement must be coun termanded until the railway bridge is finished, or some more permanent arrangement made. It is impossible to supply a large force here."

"It was not the canal-boat bridge, but the burnt railroad bridge, to which the despatch referred. The railroad was open from Sandy Hook to Washington and Baltimore. The troops of General Keyes had been taken thither in the cars; the canal was intact, yet the 10,000 men could not, according to the information, be supplied with food.

The pontoons for the permanent bridge had been built on the banks of the canal. General McClellan was an engineer; he had constructed railroads, and was familiar with practical engineering; but his fore thought did not provide for a measurement of the lift-locks of the canal by which the boats were to be taken to Harper's Ferry. A startling despatch came to Secretary Stanton:

The lift-lock is too small to permit the canal-boats to enter the river, so that it is im possible to construct the permanent bridge as I intended. I shall probably be obliged to fall back upon the safe and slow plan of merely covering the reconstruction of the rail road. This will be done at once, but it will be tedious. I cannot, as things now are, be