A TRUE STORY OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN.

New Zealand Herald, Volume VII, Issue 1841, 8 December 1869, Page 5

A TRUE STORY OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN.

£7'Vom -rill the JVflr Hound, j Durixg the summer of the most disastrous and doubtful year of the late American war, the colonel of a New Hampshire Regiment lay for some weeks extremely ill of camp fever, near Hampton Roads, I*ll Virginia. I Tearing of his critical condition his wife left her northern home, and, after much difficulty, made her way to his bedside. Her cheerful presence aud careful nursing so far restored him that he was in a short time able to be transfered to "Washington. In the Potomac River, the steamer in which the invalid oflicor, Colonel Scott, and his wife had taken passage was sunk, in a collision with a larger vessel, in the night time. The crow and nearly all the soldiers on board were rescued, or saved themselves; but amid the horrible confusion of the scene, Colonel Scott became separated from his wife, and she was lost. The Colonel was picked up in the water by the crew of the larger steamer, aud under his direction every effort was made to discover his wife, or rather her body, for all hope of finding her alive was soon abandoned. The sad search was fruitless; it was resumed in the morning, the people along the shore, humane Confederates, lending their aid. 1 But the grey, sullen river refused to give up 1 its dead, and the young officer, half frantic with gi-ief, was compelled to go 011 to WashI mgton. "NY ithin a week, however, he received j word from below that the body of the ladv had been washed on shore —that those good country people, generous foes, had secured it, | cared for it, and were keeping it for him. It happened that just at the tune imperative i orders were issued from the War Department prohibiting all intercourse .with the peninsula—a necessary precaution against the premature disclosure of important military plans. So it was with some misgiving that Colonel Scott applied to Mr. Secretary Stanton for leave to return to Virginia, on his melancholy duty. " Imjiossiblc, colonel, " replied Mr. Stanton, firmly ; "no one can have leave to go down the river at this time, on any private mission whatever. Our present exigencies demand the most stringent regulations ; and I hope I need not say to you that no merely personal considerations should ' be allowed to interfere with great natioual I

| Your case is a sad one ; but this i= a critical, perilous, cruel time. The dead must bury the dead." The colonel would have entreated, but the busy Secretary cut him short with another ££ impossible, " from wMch there was absolutely no appeal. He went forth from the presence and returned to his Intel, quite overwhelmed. Fortunately he was that afternoon visited by a friend, to whom he told the story of his unsuccessful application and sad perplexity, and who immediately exclaimed, "Why not apply to the President ?" The colonel had but little hope, but acknowledging that the plan was worth trying, drove with his friend to the White House. They were too late. It was Saturday evening, and Mr. Lincoln had gone to spend Sunday at Soldier's Rest, his summer retreat. This was but a few miles from town, and the colonel's indomitable friend proposed that they should follow him out, and they went. There was then a popular belief that all the wronged, the troubled, and suffering could find a refuge in " Father Abraham's" capacious bosom; a belief that was not far out of the way. Yet there were times when over burdened, wearied, tortured, the patriarch longed to clear that asylum of its forlorn inmates, to bolt ai.d bar and doublelock it against the world, times when life became too hard and perplexing for his genial, honest nature, too tragic and rascally- a°thin" by half. D It happened, unluckily, that the poor colonel and his friend found the president in one of his most despondent and disgusted moods. He was in his little private parlor, alone in the gloaming. He was lounging loosely in a large rocking-chair, his slippered feet were exI alted, his rough head was thrown back, his long throat bare—lie was in his sliirt-sleeves ? Yes, dear, fastidious English reader, it was genuine Yankee abandon—make the most of it! He turned upon his visitors a look of almost savage inquiry. There was indeed, in his usually pleasant eyes, a wild, angry gleam ; something like the glare of a worried animal at bay. Colonel Scott proceeded very modest! v to tell his story ; but the president interrupted him, to say brusquely, "Go to Stanton ; it is his business." " I have been to him, Mr. President, and he will do nothing for me." " You have been to him, and got your answer and still presume to come to me*! Am I to have no rest? no privacy ? Must Ibe dogged to my last fastnesses and worried to death°by inches? Mr. Stanton has done just ri"lit. He knows what lie is about. Your demands are unreasonable, sir." " But, Mr. Lincoln", I thought you would feel for me." " Feel for you! Good God! I have to feel for five hundred thousand more unfortunate than you. "We are at war, sir : don't you know we are at war ? Sorrow is the lot of all. ; bear vour share like a man and a soldier." " I fry to"Mr. President-, but it seems hard. My "devoted wife lost, her life for coming to nurse me iu my sickness, and I cannot even take her body home to my children." " "Well, she ought not to have come down to the army. She should have stayed at home. That is the place for women, but if they will go tearing about the country in such times as these, and running into all sorts of danger, they must take the consequences! Not but that lam sorry for i you, colonel. As for your wife, she's at rest, aud I wish I were." Saying this, the President leaned back wearily in his chair, and closed his eyes, not i noticing, except by a slight wave of his hand, the departure of his visitors. I am not ashamed to confess that my hero tossed restlessly that night upon a pillow wet with manly tears, that lie was desperate and resentful, utterly unresigned to the decrees of Providence and the War Department, and that he thought Abraham Lincoln as hard as he was ugly, and as inhumane as lie was ungainly. Toward the morning he fell asleep, and slept, late. Before he was fully dressed, there came a quick knock at the door of lu's chamber, and he opened to President Lincoln! The good mau came forward, pale and eager, tears glistening in his eyes, and grasped the colonel's hand saying, " I treated you brutally last night. I ask your pardon. I was utterly tired out, badgered to death. I generally

d become about as savage as a wild cat bi a Saturday night, drained dry of the " milk o r human kindness." t must have seemed t; v you the very gorilla the rebels paint me. } - was Sorry enough for it, when you were gone, r I could not sleep a moment, last night, so J 1 thought I'd drive into town, in the cool of the e morning, and make it all right. Fortunately, - I had little difficulty in finding you." " This s is very good of you, Mr. Preside]!t " said the s colonel deeply moved, "rfo it is'nt; but that • was very bad of me, last night. I never 3 should have forgiven myself, if T had let that 1 piece of ugly work stand. That, was a noble ■ wife of jours, colonel! You were a happy t man to have such a noble woman to love you ; 1 and you must be a good fellow, or ) such a woman would never have risked so > much for you. And what women there are in > these times, colonel ! What angels of devo- ' lion and mercy, unci how brave and plucky !— going everywhere at the call of duty, facing ; every danger ! I tell you if it were not for ' the women, we should all go to the devil, and ' should deserve to. They are the salvation of 1 the nation. Now, come, colonel ;my carriage i is at the door. I'll drive you to the War 33epartment, and we'll see Stanton about : his matter." Even at that early hour they found t he seere- ' tary at his post. The President pleaded the case of Colonel Scott, and not only requested that leave of absence should be given liim but that a steamer should be sent down the river, expressly to bring up the body of his wife. "Humanity, Mr. Stanton," said the good President, his homely face transfigured with the glow of an earnest tender feeling, " must overrule mere considerations of policy, and even military necessity, in matters like this.' i The Secretary was touched, and said something of his regret at not fairing felt himself at ; liberty to grant Colonel Scott's request in the first place. " No, no, Sir. Stanton," said the ■ President, "you did right in adhering to your own rules : you are the right man for this place. If we had such a soft-hearted old fool as I here, there would be no rules or regulations that the army of the country could depend upon. But this is a peculiar case. Only think of that poor woman !" Of course, the •' impossible " was accomplished. To the surprise of the colonel, the President insisted oil driving him to the navv yard, to see that the Secretary's order was carried out immediately ; seeming to have a nervous fear that some obstacle might be thrown in the way of the pious expedition. He waited at the landing till all was ready, then charged the officers of the steamer to give every attention and assistance to his " friend, Colonel Scott." With him he shook hands warmly at parting, saying. "God bless you, my dear fellotv! I hope you will have no more trouble in this sad afl'air—and, colouel, try to forget last night." j Away up in a Now England churchyard there is a certain grave carefully watched and tended by faithful love. But every April time the violets on that mound spcakjnot alone of the womanly sweetness and devotion of her who sleeps below —they are tender and tearful with the memory of the murdered President.