Part 42 (2/2)

Two brothers, Smiths, of Boston, had been arrested, held, and persecuted for a long period by a military tribunal. The charge was defrauding the government. The hue and cry about the cheating contractors called for a victim. But the Chief Executive on perusing the testimony concluded that the defendants were guiltless. He wrote the subsequent release:

”Whereas, Franklin W. and J. C. Smith had transactions with the Navy Department to the amount of one and a quarter millions of dollars; and, whereas, they had the chance to steal a million, and were charged with stealing twenty-two hundred dollars--and the question now is stealing a hundred--I don't believe they stole anything at all!

Therefore, the record and findings are disapproved--declared null and void--and the defendants are fully discharged.”

”IT OCCURS TO ME THAT I AM COMMANDER!”

To the prairie man the climate of Was.h.i.+ngton would be almost tropical.

Nevertheless, it partic.i.p.ates of American meteorological variability, as ”Old Probability” would admit.

One night, Lincoln, coming out of his rooms at the Executive Mansion to make his nocturnal round, finis.h.i.+ng with the call for the latest despatches at garrison headquarters, noticed as the fierce gale shook him and scourged him with sleet, that a soldier was contending with the storm just outside the outer door.

”Young man,” said he, turning sharply to him, ”you have got a cold job to-night. Step inside and guard there.”

The soldier stoutly contended--for the colloquy became an argument by Lincoln's delight in debate. He persisted that he was posted there by orders and must not budge save by a superior countermand.

”Hold on, there!” cried Lincoln, pleased at the arguer supplying him with a decisive weapon; ”it occurs to me that I am commander-in-chief!

and so, I order you to go inside!”

COMPLIMENTS IS ALL THEY DO PAY!

A paymaster introduced to the President by the United States district marshal, remarked with independence noticeable in the sect: ”I have no official business with you, sir--I only called to pay my compliments!”

”I understand,” was the retort; ”and from the soldiers' complaints, I think that is all you gentlemen do pay!”

BAIL THE POTOMAC WITH A SPOON.

There is as pathetic a picture as the old sated Marquis of Queensberry (Thackeray's Steyne and history's ”Old Q.”) murmuring as he gazed from his castle window on the unsurpa.s.sed view of the Thames Valley, ”Oh, this cursed river running on all the day!” in President Lincoln watching the broad Potomac where all was so quiet, and yet the hidden and watchful enemy lined the other bank. A pet.i.tioner hemmed him in a corner of the room with this sight, and poured on him the bucket of his woes. The at last irritated worm turned on him, and cried:

”My poor man! go away! do go away! I cannot meddle in your case. I could as easily bail the Potomac with a teaspoon as attend to all the details of the army!”

”WE SHALL BEAT THEM, MY SON!”

George W. Curtis, New York editor, called on the President in the first winter of the war, with the Illinoisian's friend, Judge Arnold.

He said that the official wore a sad, weary, and anxious look, and spoke with a softened, touching voice. But he added to his good-by at the door in shaking hands, with paternal kindness and profound conviction:

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