A True Story of President Lincoln.

Cromwell Argus, Volume I, Issue 8, 29 December 1869, Page 3

A True Story of President Lincoln.

(Prom All the Year Rowvl) During the summer of the most disastrous and doubtful year of the late American war, tlie colonel of a Now Hampshire regiment lay for some weeks extremely ill of camp fev ir, near H unptoh 110 ids, Virginia. Hearing of his critical condition, ■his wife left her northern ho ne, and, after much difficulty, mule her way to his bedside. Her cheerful presence and careful nursing s> far restored him tint he was in a short turn able to be transferred to Washington. In the Potomac river, the steamer in which the invalid officer and his wife hid taken passage was sum, in a collision with a larger vassal, in the nighttime. The crew and nearly all the soldiers on board wore rescued, or sived themselves ; but amid the horrible confusion of the scene, 0 done! Scott became separated from his wife, and she was lost. The sad search was fruitless; it was resumed in the morning, the people along the shore, humane Confederates, lending their aid. But the grey, sullen river refused to give up its dead, and the young officer, half fnntic with grief, wis compelled to go on to Washington. Within a week, however, he received word from below that the body of the lady had washed on shore —that those good country people, generous foes, had secured it, cared for it, and were keening it for him.

It hnppjuel th it just at that time imperative orders were issued from the War Department, prohibiting nil intercourse with the peninsula—-a necessary precaution against the prem itnro disclosure of important military plans. So it was with some misgivings that Calonel Scott applied to M ' Secretary Stanton for leava to return to Virginia on his melancholy duty. “ Impossible, C )lon?l,” replied Stanton, firmly ; “no one can have leave to go do wn the river, at this time, on any private mission whatever. Oar present exigencies demand the most stringent regulations ; and 1 hope I need not sny to you that no merely personal considerations should he allowed to interfere with great national interests. Your case is a sad one ; bat this is a critical, perilous, cruel time. The dead must bury the dea l.”

The colonel would have entreated, but the busy Secretary cut him short with another “ impossible,” from which there was absolutely no appeal. He went forth from the presence, and returned to his hotel, quite overwhelmed. Fortunately, he was that afternoon visited by a friend, to whom he told the story of his unsuccessful application aaid sal perplexity, and who immediately exclaimed, “ Wiiy not apply to the President V' The colonel had hut 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 the President had gone to spend Sunday at Sol lier’s Rest, his sum nar 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, an 1 suffering could find a refuge in “ Father Abraham’s " capacious bosom ; a belief that was not far out of the waC. Yet there were times when, overburdened, wearied, torture:], the patriarch longed to clear that asylum of its forloim inm ites, to. holt and bar and double look it against the world ; times when life became too hard and perplexing for his genial, honest n iture, too serious and tragic and rascally a thing by half.

It happened, unluckily, th it the poor colonel an*l his frienl found the president in one of his most despondent and disgusted moods. Hi was in his little private parlour, alone in the gloaming. He was lounging loosely in a large, rocking-chair, his slippered feet wore exalted, his long throat bare—lie was in his shirt sleeves ! Yes, dear, fastidious English reader, it was genuine Yankee ahemion —mike the most of it! He turned upon his visitors a look of almost savage inquiry. There was indeed, in his usually pleasant ayes, a wild, angry g'leam ; a something like the glare of a worried aurmal at bay. Colonel Scott proceeded very modestly to tell his story ; but the 'piWdeat interrupted him, to say brusquely, “ Go to Stanton ; this is his business. ” ■, “ I hwe 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 1 Must I be dogged to ray last fastnesses and worried to death by inches 1 Mr Stanton has done Just right. He knows what he is about. Your demands are unreasonable, sir." “ But, Mr Lincoln, I thought you would feel for me." “ Feel for yon ! Good God ! I have to feel for (ivo hundred thousand more unfortunate than you. Wo are at war, air ; don’t you know wo are at war I Sorrow is the lot of all: bear your share like a man and a soldi t." “ I try to, Mr President, but it seems hard. My devoted wife lost her life for coming to nurse me in my sickness, and 1 cannot even take her liody homo 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 you, colonel. As for your wife, she’s at rest, and I wish I Were.’’ Saying this, the President leaned back wearily in his chair, and closed Ida eyes, not noticing, except by a slight wive of the hand, the departure of his visit 0.-a. I am not ash lined to confess that my hero tossed restlessly that night upon a pillow wet with manly tears, that he was desperate and resentful, utterly unresigne.l to the decrees of Providence and the War Department, and that ho though! A.hraham Lincoln as hard as he Was ugly, and as inhumane as he Was ungainly. Towards morning he fell asleep, and slept late. Before he Was full dressed, there came a quick knock at the door of his chamoor, and he opened to President Lincoln ! The good man came forward, pale and eager, tears glistening in his eyes, and grasped the colonel’s hand, saying, “ I treated you brutally last night. 1 ask your pardon. I was utterly tired out, badgered to death. I generally become about as savage as a wild cat by Saturday night, drained dry of the ‘ milk of hnmart kindness.’ I must have seemed to yon the very gorilla the rebels paint me. I was sorry enough for it, when you Were gone, I could not sleep a moment last night, so I thought I’d drive into town in the cool of the morning, and make it all right. Fortunately, I had no difficulty in finding you.” “ This is very good of you, Mr President,” said the colonel, deeply moved. “ No, it isn t; hut that Was Very bad of me last night. I never should have forgiven myself, if I had let that piece of uglywork stand. That was a noble wife of yours, colonel! You were a happy man to have such a noble woman to love you ; and yon must he a good fellow, or such a womin would never have risked so much for you. What women there are in these times, colonel! What angels of devotion and mercy, and how brave and plucky !—- going everywhere at the call of duty, facing everv 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 the nation. Now, come, colonel, rny carriage is at the door. I’ll drive you | to the War Department, and we’ll see | Stanton about this matter.”

Even at that early hour they found the Secretary at his post. The President! pleaded the case of (Jolonel Scott, and not only requested leave of absence should bo given him, but that a steamer should bo 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 earnest, tender feeling, “ humanity should overrule considerations of policy, and even military necessity, in matters like this.” The Secretary was touched, and he said something of his regret at not having, felt himself at liberty to grant Colonel Scott’s request in the first place. “ No, no, Mr Stanton,” said the President, “ you did right in adhering to your own rules ; you are the right man for tins place. If wo 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 on driving him to the navy 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 o,'hours 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 fellow ! I hope you will have no more trouble in this sad affair—and, colonel, try to forget last night.” Par up in a New Hampshire churchyard there is a certain grave carefully watched and tended by faithful love. But every April time tho volets on that mound speak not alone of the womanly sweetness and devotion of her who sleeps below—they are tender and tearful with the memory of the murdered President.

Forty dollars per month are the wages of a iriaid-of-all-work in an Oregon house* hold. Fifty-three female clerks have been appointed as copyists in the Patent-office, Washington—salary 700 dols, per annuinWater runs over Niagara Falls at tho rate of 1,500,01X1,000,000 cubic feet every minute, giving u water-power force enough to perform all the manual labour in Nevr York State. To PnF.sERVK Meat ts Hot Weatmkr. —M. Garget states, in Lea Mondes, that butcher’s meat may be preserved in hot' weather by placing it in large earthen jars, patting clean heavy stones upon it, and covering it with skim milk. Tire milk will become sour, of course, hut may afterwards serve as food for pigs, and the meat will be found to have kept its natural primitive oven after eight or ton days, ) J- —-