for his purpose; provided that it aptly illustrated his ideas or served his policy. To this peculiar tendency of mind we owe the many stories and quaint sayings which lend to every recollection of Lincoln a strange and uncommon interest.

I know no better illustration of the peculiar rapidity with which he would pass from one side of his nature to the other than a reminiscence for which I am indebted to Governor Curtin of Pennsylvania, who, at the time, was one of the leading "War Governors." He was summoned to see Lincoln, at the White House, on arriving after midnight from the battle-field of Fredericksburg, where he had been inspecting the wounded and surveying this field of national disaster. Lincoln showed much anxiety about the wounded, and asked many questions about the battle.

Governor Curtin replied, "Mr. President, it was not a battle, it was a butchery," and proceeded to give a graphic description of the scenes he had witnessed. Lincoln was heart-broken at the recital, and soon reached a state of nervous excitement bordering on insanity.

Finally, as the Governor was leaving the room, he went forward, and, taking the President by the hand, tenderly expressed his sympathy for his sorrow. He said, "Mr. President, I am deeply touched by your sorrow, and at the distress I have caused you.

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 terrible 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 boysJames 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