GREAT CAPTAIN

Three Novels of Abraham Lincoln

FOREVER FREE

WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

THE LAST FULL MEASURE

by

HONORE MORROW



William Morrow and Company

 Publishers           New York

      FOREVER FREE
~ 19Z7 by Honore Willsie
Morrow

WITH MALICE TOWARD
NONE
3 19Z8 by Honore Willsie
Morrow

  THE LAST FULL MEASURE
@) 1930 by Honore Willsie
Morrow
   All rights reserved
  PRINTED IN THE UNITED
STATES OF' AMERICA
            
Forever Free

                  CONTENTS

CIIAPI                              ~PAGE
   I THE PLOT AGAINST THE LINCOLNS      5
  II THE SEARCH FOR TRUTH BEGINS       19
 III THE FIRST LEVEE                   28
  IV MISS FORD                         33
   V BREAD FOR ANDERSON                39
  VI THE QUALITY OF MERCY              46
 VII FORT SUMTER                       51
VIII ON TO RICHMOND I                  55
  LX MASSA LINCUM S NIGGER             64
   X T1IE FLAG RAISING                 74
  XI MC CLELLAN                        81
 XII LIZZIE KECKLEY                    90
XIII FREMONT                           99
 XIV BALL S BLUFF                     104
  XV THE STRUGGLE FOR SUPREMACY       112
 XVI THE VACANT CHAIR                 122
XVII THE FIRST WAR ORDER              I27
XVIIIWILLIE                           135
 XIX ALL QUIET ALONG THE POTOMAC      144
  XX HARRISON S LANDING               152
 XXI CHILDE ROLAND TO THE DARK TOWER
CAME                                  159
XXII 1~; RUNAWAYS                     166
XXIIITHE SOLDIERS HOME CEMETERY       173
XXIV CEDAR MOUNTAIN                   181
  BV BULL RUN AGAIN                   190
XXVI ANTIETAM                         I96
XXVIIBRADY                            203

4 CONTENTS

 CHAPTER                              PAGE
 XXVIII TADS KITTEN                   2I3
 XXIX FERNANDO WOOD                   Zlc
 XXX THE BACKWOODS JUPITER            224
 XXXI THE KEYSTONE OF PUTTY           234
 XXXII FOREVER FREE                   244

CHAPTER I

       THE PLOT AGAINST THE LINCOLNS

 AFTER the inaugural ceremonies which inducted Lincoln
into office, In that fine noon of March, 1861, the Lincoln
family moved from 1 ~ Willard's Hotel to the White House.

  The removal was watched by a crowd consumed with more
than even the usual vast curiosity displayed over the
movements of a new Chief Executive. And the crowd
contained many persons who, normally, would have
considered such inquisitiveness beneath their dignity. Such
a person was the hostess at a small dinner party given that
evening in a house on Ninth Street, near F.

  It was an attractive house to the guests who crossed the
tiny Georgian portico and flagged hall leading to a back
pallor, which was small but handsomely furnished. A soft
coal fire burned in the English grate. The marble mantel
held a beautiful collection of Dresden figures, shepherds and
shepherdesses, herding their fairy sheep toward a white
marble clock in a glass cover. The Chippendale furniture;
the grey and green Brussels carpet, with its design of
morning glories; the tidies, knitted in intricate designs of
birds, that hung over each chair back; the hassocks with
handembroidered covers; the green velvet window draperies,
formed a quite perfect background for the young hostess,
standing before the fire.

  She was very tall, nearly six feet, and about twenty-eight
years of age,  tall and handsome, with chestnut curls
hanging over her ears, and violet eyes of unforgettable depth
and luster. She wore a green silk gown over an enormous
crinoline. It was cut very low, displaying a splendid whiteness
of bust and arms. She opened and closed a tiny sandalwood
fan as she talked.

  Dinner was over, and the trio composing the party had
returned to the parlor before beginning the conversation
that brought in the crowd around Willard's.

  "I yielded to my curiosity," she said, "and joined the
evil-smelling mob before Willard's to catch a glimpse of the
new Queen, and the young royalties."

  "Not so evil-smelling, either, as you insinuate, my dear,"
smiled the man who stood beside the center table,
thoughtfully twirling his half-filled liqueur glass. He was tall,
taller than the young woman, lean and blond, with a
smooth-shaven, aquiline face. "I was there myself, and I saw
Mr. Russell, the correspondent of the London Times, and
Thurlow Weed, and Mrs. Eames, and Mrs. Greenhow."

"There were any number of Southern women, Tom!"
exclaimed Miss

6 FOREVER FREE

Ford. "I suppose Mrs. Greenhow went hoping to see the
Queen assassinated."

  The third member of the party spoke. He was old enough
to have been the father of the other two, a gray-bearded
man, in evening clothes that added to the extraordinary
dignity of his bearing. He bowed to the hostess.

  "Miss Ford, pardon, I beg of you, the presumption of a
grey head, but will you not be seated, so that I may yield to
the temptation offered by this arm chairs I am very tired."

  "Oh, how thoughtless I am, my dear Judgel" cried Miss
Ford, sinking to the ottoman beside the table, and leaning
one arm on the polished mahogany surface, where the
lamplight gleamed on her flawless skin. "You must be tired,
indeed, after your long trip."

  The judge sank into the arm chair. "Part of my weariness
was due to my standing in this same vulgar crowd for a look
at Mrs. Lincoln," he said with a sigh. "It is a more astute
face than gossip had led me to suspect. The woman is not a
fool, even if she is ill-bred."

  "A common sort of a shrew, I reckon she is." Miss Ford
spoke thoughtfully. "She has complete control of Lincoln.
What a monstrosity that man isl"

  "Fittingly so, Ladyl" exclaimed Taylor who still stood with
his liqueur glass. "Seward ought to put him to chopping
wood for the Cabinet fireplace. From all I can gather, it's his
chief qualification for his position."

  "Seward plans to do just about that, I fancy," said the
judge. "Mrs. Lincoln is a Kentuckian, I hear, and a
pro-slavery sympathiser. Also she is socially ambitious, and
utterly ignorant of the most ordinary social usages."

  "Then, if she has complete control of Lincoln, - " Miss
Ford paused. "Judge Campbell," she began again, abruptly,
"what is it you want of me? What can I do? There must be
something portentous afoot, or you would not have spared
me all this time, old friend though you are."

  "I come to you from a friend of equally long standing."
The judge leaned forward and looked at her, keenly. "I come
to you from the President of the Confederacy, Jefferson
Davis. He asks for your help. He believes you will not deny
it to him."

  "He is my father's dearest friend!" exclaimed Miss Ford. "It
will be difficult for me to deny him anything."

  "Close the door, Tom," directed Justice Campbell. "I am
about to give you two the full confidence of the
Confederacy. Sit down beside Miss Ford, I pray, Tom. Your
restlessness is disconcerting." He paused, fitted his finger tips
carefully together, gazed at them a long moment, then said:

  "The provisional government of the Confederacy desires to
avoid war. It is eager to establish the Confederacy by
negotiation with Congress, if possible. To that end, three
commissioners have been sent by President Davis to
Washington for the purpose of feeling out the temper of the
Lincoln Administration. I am one of those commissioners.
We are working with as much secrecy as possible."

Taylor spoke suddenly. "Sir, have you talked with the hot
heads in Rich

THE PLOT AGAINST THE LINCOLNS ,

mond and Charleston? You can't have, or you'd realize that
they are already on a war basis there. Why, Governor Pickens
of South Carolina is urging Beauregard to attack Fort
Sumter, now."

 The justice raised his hand. "I knowl I knowl But that is not
the South at its best. We want no war. We want peaceable
secession, not a military dictatorship. Now, as I understand
the situation, William Seward, the new Secretary of State, is
the actual head of the Administration. He also declares for
peace. But what Lincoln wants, we do not know. If, as gossip
has it, he is under the control of Seward and his own wife,
our problem is with them, not with the President."

 "Not altogether," interrupted Miss Ford. "If Lincoln is as
weak as that, what will prevent Charles Sumner and the
Abolitionists from getting control of him, or what will prevent
the commissioners from using him7"

 "Exactly!" agreed Campbell. "You have come to the point
with your usual perspicacity, Miss Ford. Lincoln will belong
to the party first on the ground, to the party that keeps its
representatives closest to him. Properly manipulated, he can
be enormously useful in obtaining official recognition of the
Confederacy."

 "The manipulation must be extremely agile," Taylor smiled,
"to get action before Sumter is taken."

 "What if Fort Sumter is taken, sir7" asked Justice Campbell,
somewhat irascibly. "The North did not take action when
seven States were taken by the Confederacy. Why should one
fort cause even a ripple in its complacency7"

 "Abe Lincoln said in his inaugural address this noon,"
replied Taylor, "that he proposed to hang on to what
Buchanan had left him. If he meant it, he might feel peevish
over the loss of Fort Sumter and Charleston harbor."

 "Don't you know any one who really understands that great,
shambling simpletons" cried Miss Ford. "Everybody knows
Seward wrote the inaugural speech, and Seward is a political
weathercock."

 "No one seems to know Lincoln," replied Justice Campbell,
"that is, no one in public life. But, unless I misread the astute
look on Mrs. Lincoln's face, she knows her husband. And
thus we arrive at the point, Miss Ford, where you can help."

"I7" asked the young woman, her face kindling. "But why and
how, 1?"

 "Yours was the first name mentioned by President Davis,"
said Campbell, "and after three hours of discussion of many
names, it was you to whom he returned. Your long social
experience, your tact, your high degree of intelligence, but
above all, his knowledge of the intense devotion of your
father and yourself to the cause of slavery; these were the
qualities the President named again and again. It is
known pardon my seeming bad taste it is known in
Washington and New York that your father has lost a great
deal of money in the present financial crisis."

 Miss Ford smiled. "We still are able to exist. But father is
spending his time on the plantation, and we are going to
close this house."

8 FOREVER FREE

 "Goodl" cried the judge. "Dear Miss Ford, let it seep out
that you are in such financial straits that you must seek
pecuniary aid. Find some one who can recommend you to
the Lincolns, then proceed to procure a position as Mrs.
Lincoln's social companion, or as governess to the two young
boys then teach us how to handle Abe Lincoln."

 Miss Ford had flushed a deep red. "You ask a Ford of
Virginia to earn her living?"

 "Worse than that," replied Justice Campbell with deep
earnestness, "I ask you to earn it in a family that, both
socially and politically, must be abhorrent to you, or to any
other lady of the South. Miss Ford, on the character of this
backwoodsman, this rail splitter, rests the future of the
Confederacy. We must know him. If you can make us know
him, you will accomplish a task not second in importance to
any that can be done for our sacred institutions."

"A spyl" exclaimed the Virginian, lifting her chin. "Me, a
spy."

 "Lady," Taylor leaned toward her, anxiously, his blond skin
pale with intensity of feeling, "Lady, don't do this thing, I
beg of your"

 "What do you mean, sire" exclaimed Campbell. "Are you
treasonable to our cause?"

 "No, Judge Campbell," replied Taylor, "but Miss Ford and
I grew up on adjacent plantations. She represents all the
loveliness, all the splendor of ladyhood to me. I cannot bear
the thought "

 "Sirl" thundered Campbell, "had this been the moment to
think of personal honor, would I have stooped to use the
prestige of my high office in the Federal courts to further
the cause of Secession? I, sir, have such loyalty to our social
institutions and rights "

 "Just a moment, Judge," interrupted Miss Ford, "I'm afraid
I'm a little cold blooded. If I go into this thing, I shall do so
for just one reason. I believe that the institution of slavery
is seriously menaced. I want to keep my slaves, and all that
slavery gives to the South. If I undertake this dreadful work,
I shall do so with no illusion of splendor connected with it,
and I'd admire you and Mr. Davis, and all the others of you
whom I know so well, if you'd be equally candid."

Taylor laughed. "She has us there, Mr. Justicel"

 "Do you mean, Miss Ford," asked Campbell, ignoring
Taylor's thrust, "that you will undertake the work?"

 The Virginian rose, and paced splendidly in sweeping
crinoline up and down the room, finally coming to pause
beside the fire which she eyed thoughtfully, for some
moments.

 "Either you are very wise," she said at last, "in choosing so
conspicuous a type as mine for this work, or else you are
dangerously foolish. Hoping that you are the former, I'll
agree to undertake it for just two months."

 Campbell rose and solemnly shook hands with her. Then
he turned to the younger man.

"Mr. Taylor, Mr. Davis asked me, in case Miss Ford agreed
to this

THE PLOT AGAINST THE LINCOLNS 9

great sacrifice, to invite you to undertake to act as direct
messenger between himself and this lady."

 Taylor's pale face blazed. But before he could reply, Miss
Ford put her hand on his arm. "Think, Tom dearI"

He stared at her, his eyes softening. "Do you want me, Lady7"

  "I want you, I need you. Two months are nothing,
considering the tremendous stakes."

  "I'll help, with one understanding," ejaculated Taylor.
"When war is declared, I want a commission."

  "You shall have it." Justice Campbell held out his hand.
"Your grateful country will one day thank you both. Now,
then, let us work out some details."

  An hour later, Justice Campbell left the little house on
Ninth Street, and Miss Ford and Taylor, after seeing him to
the door, returned to the fire in the back pallor.

  "Do you care to take a look in at the Inaugural Ball, Lady7"
asked Taylor.

  She gave him a glance half scornful, half humorous. "Don't
force me to meet the wild animals till the new business
requires it, Tom. When do you start for what is Judge
Campbell's phrases - 'The provisional capital at Montgomery,
and His Excellency, the President of the Confederacy'7"

  "To-morrow or the next day," replied Taylor, smiling at
Miss Ford's mimicry of Justice Campbell, but sobering
quickly, as he said, "I can't help feeling a little tragic about it,
Lady. After all, our ancestors did as much about establishing
the Federal government as did the most ardent of these
Northerners "

  Miss Ford tossed her fine head. "I have no sentimentality
about governments, I can tell you, Tom. I've lived too close
to Washington all my life. There's nothing high or fine about
governing. It's all intrigue, crookedness, selfish grabbing with
the lowest types of minds succeeding best. My political litany
is very simple: I believe in slavery because I think it produces
the finest type of white civilization. I wish to keep my slaves
because they make it possible for me to live beautifully. I
shall be fiercely loyal to Jefferson Davis and his crowd
because they are fighting the slavery fight."

  "You always have seen life without shadings of meaning,"
mused Taylor. "I suppose it's that decisiveness that makes
your nature so irresistibly attractive to my everlasting
quibbling over motives. Will your father fall in with the idea
of buying the tavern at Fairfax Courthouse7"

  "With the Davis crowd supplying the money7 Why not, my
dear Tom7" drawled Miss Ford. "Who is this man Mosby who
will head the information bureau there7"

  "I don't know him," replied Tom, "except by reputation. A
very clever fellow, I've been told. Where are you going,
Lady7" as she rose and moved toward the door.

"Both you and I are going to drop in on Mrs. Eames. She'll
be sure

lo FOREVER FREE

to have a crowd there, this evening, all of them gossiping
about the Lincolns. I want to hear what I can, and if Charles
Sumner is there, make him some casual suggestions."

  A few moments later, the two Virginians were on the way
to the Eames home, one of the social centers of
Washington.

  March, in the city of Washington, can be as genial as April
in Chicago, and the windows of Lincoln's bedroom, looking
south to the Potomac were open to a soft wind that smelled,
not too unpleasantly, of the flats and marshes that lay
between the White House grounds and the river.

  The bedroom, in the southwest corner of the Executive
Mansion, was handsomely furnished with a great mahogany
bedstead, with bureaus, tables, and chairs of rosewood, and
with a thick-piled red carpet, somewhat worn, as were the
heavy red hangings and the upholstering; but they were not
the less pleasant and ease-inviting, for that.

  The gas had been turned low in the jet beside the bureau,
and Mr. Lincoln, in a faded blue dressing gown, walked
slowly toward the arm chair that stood by one of the
windows. Even the dressing gown could not conceal much of
his fine length of six feet, four inches, nor could it soften his
stoop, or the disproportionately great length of arms and
legs, of hands and feet; nor did it conceal the fact that he
was thin through the chest, from front to back, and narrow
across the shoulders. What it did conceal, however, was the
fact that his excessive thinness, he weighed but a hundred
and sixty pounds, did not make a weak man of him. He
was all steel muscle and sinew, a man of astounding physical
strength and endurance.

  He dropped into the arm chair, put his feet upon the
window ledge and leaned his head against the cushioned
back of the chair. Seen in profile, his head was unusually
high above his ears, those outstanding ears that Punch and
Harper's and Leslie's Weekly so delighted to accent for the
amused and contemptuous publicl Seen from the front, the
forehead, the dome of the head, covered by thick black hair,
was magnificent, as was the architecture of the eye socket
and the bold firmness of the nose and the granite chin.

  Those who knew him best, as for example his secretary,
John Hay, insisted that Lincoln was not ugly, but homely,-to
an American, a subtle, and vastly significant distinction.
Those who knew him least, as for example, the
correspondent of the London Times, spoke of Lincoln's awk-
ward height, his too prominent ears, his shambling gait, his
huge feet and hands, of his too large mouth and too heavy
lower lip; and he spoke of the striking beauty of his grey
eyes, full, deep, penetrating and ineffably tender; and ended
by saying that Lincoln's was a face of infinite sagacity, his
personality such that something quite other than his physical
peculiarities would make it impossible for the most
indifferent observer to pass him in the street without notice.

Lincoln watched the far starlit gleam of the river, without
actually see

THE PLOT AGAINST THE LINCOLNS 11

ingit. He was grave, but not sad. The day had gone better
than he had dared hope. Not that he had shared the general
fear among his supporters, that he would be assassinated
during the inaugural ceremonies. All General Scott's
precautions, the heavily guarded barouche, the sharp-
shooters stationed on the roofs along Pennsylvania Avenue,
the soldiers with cocked guns at the Capitol, had amused
and irked him.

  "Nothing on earth, I reckon, can keep a man from shooting
me," he had told his wife that morning, "if he really has set
his tooth for it. Besides, it's not common sense to fence me
in with guns all day, then turn me loose at a public ball at
night."

  No, his apprehensions had not been for his own safety.
They had been lest the South would choose to embarrass him
by some act of such sinister fury, that the "irrepressible
conflict" would be precipitated before he could be installed in
the White House. The North was not ready for war, could not
be until it had found its master. That, as Lincoln saw it, was
his task, to focus all the quarreling or indifferent forces of
the North on one purpose, that of saving the Union.

  There was a murmur of voices in the next room, Mary and
her sisters putting on the finishing touches for the Inaugural
Ball. Mary, he told himself, was happy at last. Thank God for
thatl She had earned happiness. A child's voice now, in
staccato exclamations, Taddie asking for something. Bobbie,
the oldest boy, had gone back to Harvard an hour before,
glad, he said, as his father recalled with a chuckle, to be
snubbed in Cambridge, after the sickening licking of his boots
in Springfield and Washington.

  The door between the two rooms suddenly swung open,
admitting a burst of light, eight-year-old Taddie, and a violent
smell of Florida water. The boy, resplendent in a purple
velvet suit, flung himself upon his father's great knees.

  "Papa dayl Papa dayl Can't I go to the pa'ty? Willie's going
and I didn't fight when motha made me get into this nasty
suit! I've got myself all pe'fumed up to' it."

  "You smell like Al Herbert's barber shop on a Saturday
night," said Lincoln, kissing the child's quivering lips several
times. Taddie was the baby of the family, and appeared even
younger than his years, because of the impediment in his
speech that blurred all his it's. "Who says you can't go,
precious Tadpole, after getting rigged out in these ice cream
clothes7"

  "Motha said so. I told he' I'd as soon die as not go and I
would. That ball will be betta' than forty ci'cusest Old
Edwa'd, the doo'man told me so. I'll die if I can't go, Papa
dayI"

  The child's blue eyes were turned up to his father's grey
ones in an agony of pleading. Every nerve in his little body
was tense with excitement. His father patted the velvet
shoulder and turned toward the open door.

"Mary! O Maryl Can you come here a moment?"

z FOREVER FREE

 "Sorry but I can't, Abra'm," returned a clear voice. "It's a
critical moment."

 "Then warn the girls that two men are coming inl" called
Lincoln, putting Tad down and rising. There was a muffled
shriek and the sound of fleeing feet, as father and son
appeared in Mrs. Lincoln's room.

 Mary Lincoln stood before the pier glass that was set into
the door of the wardrobe, and, for a long moment, Lincoln
paused, staring at her, heedless of Tad's impatient jerking at
his hand. Mary always had been pretty, but now she seemed
to him to be actually beautiful. She was of a little less than
medium height, inclined to plumpness, with a wonderful fair
skin, and masses of brown hair, braided about a well-shaped
head. Her forehead was full and high, her eyes large, blue,
set well apart under straight, fine brows. Her eyes, Lincoln
said, were the kindest in the world. Her nose was straight
and a little long, her lips were too thin for beauty, but
sensitive and wistful in expression. Her skin and her round,
full throat were lovely.

It was a face of penetrating intelligence.

 Lincoln drew a long breath of admiration, partly for the
new dress, partly for the glow in Mary's vivid face. She wore
white satin, over an enormous crinoline. Lincoln hated
crinolines, but he thought the lace that draped the skirt and
bodice was exquisite, and that the pearl necklace and
bracelets were iridescent as dewdrops on her fair skin.
Twining a wreath of jessamine and violets in her hair, she
smiled at him in the mirror, then frowned.

"You ought to be dressed, Abratml"

  "AII set, but my jacket, wifel Why not let Taddie go, as
long as Willie's going?"

  "He ought to be in bed this minute," replied Mary. "It's
after ten o'clock and he's worn out with excitement. He's
been half hysterical, all day. He hasn't Willie's calm temper,
and he'll be down with a bilious attack, nextl"

  Lincoln looked down at the small boy whose scowl so
ludicrously duplicated his mother's. He was a very pretty
child, and his father doted on his cherub-like features.
"Meaning," smiled Lincoln, "that Tad's your mental legatee
and Willie's miner"

  "No," returned Mary, trying the effect of the wreath with
head turning now this way, and now that. "I don't mean so
at all. Taddie has your soft heart and my nerves, and a
smaller replica of your brain. Willie has my hard heart, your
nerves, and more than my brain."

  Her blue eyes twinkled. Lincoln gave a low chuckle in
response, and then said, earnestly, "Please let Taddie gol
He'll be as calm as Willie. Can't you promise that, son?"

"Yes, Motha, yesl Yesl Yesl YesI" shrieked Tad.

  "There, you see?" exclaimed his mother, turning round to
look disapprovingly, first at her husband, then at her young
son. "Nol You must go to bed, Tad."

With a scream as of mortal pain, Tad threw himself on the
floor. Lin

THE PLOT AGAINST THE LINCOLNS 13

coin picked him up, kissed him, then said in a voice of
unmistakable firmness, "One more scream like that, young
man, and I'll put you to bed, myself."

 Tad instantly became silent. His father crossed the room,
and standing before Mary, his hands in his dressing gown
pockets, looked down at her without smiling, as he said,
gently,

 "If I beguile you into believing how handsome I think
you're looking, will you let the boy got"

"Oh, that's not fair, Abra'ml Nol Nol No! He mustn't go."

"I'II go his security for good behavior. Better let him go,
Maryl"

  "Nol Nol" repeated Mary with more emphasis than the case
would seem to warrant, to one who did not know how badly
Lincoln spoiled his children.

"I reckon he'll have to go, Mary," said Lincoln, still gently.

  She looked up into the deep-set, grey eyes. Back of their
tenderness she saw the granite, and a look of helplessness
came into her face. It was all too familiar an experience for
both husband and wife, and Mary had not the gift of
patience, persistent as she was. She knew only too well, how-
ever, when she was worsted.

  "Have your own way, Abra'm," she said, sadly, and turned
back to her toilet. "Taddie, go wash your face and find
Willie."

With a whoop of joy, the child flew from the room.

  Lincoln took an eager stride that carried him between his
wife and the mirror. He caught her fingers in his big, warm
palms.

  "Now, I've offended you againl But he wants things so that
it actually gripes him, just like I did when I was little, and I
never had them. That's why I interfere. You don't know what
that kind of punishment is, Mary."

  "Don't It" Mary looked up and Lincoln saw the look in her
blue gaze that never failed to fill him with contrition. He
realized, whenever he had time to think about it, that he
neglected Mary in many little ways. He put a great hand on
either side of her face and stooped toward her, but she
moved back from him.

  "You're putting the boys in the way of losing their hunger
for anything, Abratm. You are satiating them now, and later,
when life has no zest for them, they'll blame you."

  Lincoln nodded. "My head's in perfect accord with your
statement, my dear, but my heart isn't." His beautiful white
teeth flashed in a whimsical smile.

"If only you could learn to say 'No'l" sighed his wife.

  "It's an awful weakness," groaned Lincoln, then with his
irresistible twinkle, "I've often wondered what would have
become of me if I'd been a girl. With this incapacity for
saying 'No,' nothing but my ugliness could have saved my
virtue! That's why the Almighty made me a man, I'm surer"

  Mary burst into helpless laughter, suddenly kissed one of
the great hands that lay on her shoulders, and gave him a
little push. "Go along, you great

14 FOREVER FREE

child, and put on your proper coatlAnd please don't forget
the white glovesl They're in your little upper bureau
drawer."

 Lincoln's shout of laughter ended in a comical groan. He
kissed Mary, very tenderly, and slowly returned to his own
room. There, he turned up the gas, pulled off the dressing
gown, and put on the black broadcloth frock coat that lay on
the bed. It had been made for him by an excellent New
York tailor, and he scrutinized his reflection in the mirror
with whimsical satisfaction. He was searching in the wrong
drawer for his gloves when a knock sounded at the outer
door.

"Come inl Come int" shouted Lincoln.

 A young man entered. He was of medium height, and did
not look his twenty-two years, in spite of a small, black
mustache. His'face was as round as Tad's, with blunt
features and high colon His eyes were a brilliant black,
beneath heavy brows that lifted at their outer edges, giving
him a perpetually quizzical expression that was very
attractive. He wore impeccable broadcloth evening clothes.
This was John Hay, assistant to the President's private
secretary, George Nicolay.

"What's the trouble, John7 House on firer" asked Lincoln.

  "In a way, yes, Mr. Lincoln," answered young Hay.
"Nicolay thought you ought to have this letter, at once. It's
from the Acting Secretary of War."

  "Is it more important to these United States than my
getting into white gloves7" asked the President, continuing
his search in the bottom bureau drawer.

  "I think so. Major Anderson sent word from Fort Sumter
to-day," replied Hay, his eyes snapping with excitement, "that
his food supplies won't last much longer, and that he must
be reenforced, or the fort evacuated, within the next month.
The Acting Secretary thought you ought to have this
information in case anything came up, to-night."

Lincoln ceased his search for his gloves. "Hand over the
note, John."

  Very deliberately he put on his spectacles, read the
missive through, folded *, and put it into his hip pocket.

  "John, what do you think of my new clothes? My wife says
this is the first time she's ever got me into a decent fitting
suit."

  "They look very well, sir. But," his cheeks flushing, "do you
get the significance of that letter, Mr. President7 If we
reenforce Sumter, the South will take it as an excuse for
precipitating a fight. If we don't reenforce, our only toe-hold
on Charleston is gone."

  "I might get the significance," said Lincoln mildly, "frontier
town politician though the newspapers say I aml As I recall,
there was considerable discussion of Fort Sumter even back
Springfield way, John."

"I beg your pardon, sirl" exclaimed Hay.

  "That's all rightl" smiled Lincoln. "Nobody knows better
than I that I can stand a heap of educating. My wife has
been currying me for twenty years, haven't you, Mary7" as
Mrs. Lincoln swept into the room, closely followed by Tad
and Willie.

THE PLOT AGAINST THE LINCOLNS 15

 Mary smiled and turned to young Hay. "How well your
evening clothes become you, Johnl No wonder the girls buzz
round you sol"

 The young secretary made a profound obeisance. "But no
one will look at me if I stand near you, Madam Presidentl
You are regal to-night! What a wonderful dressl"

 "It's thirty steps around the bottom of the skirt," said Willie
solemnly. He was a slender boy of eleven, with a strong
resemblance to his father.

 The three grown people laughed, and under cover of this,
John Hay bowed himself out of the room.

 "I like that boyl" said Mary Lincoln. "He's a little
highty-tighty now, with excitement and his elevation to
grandeur, but he has a brain. After he understands you, he'll
in many ways be more valuable to you than Nicolay."

 "Socially, perhaps," agreed the President. "But for steady
chewing of the cud of hard detail, thank heaven for George
Nicolay. Mary, where did you put those gloves7 Have I got
to wear them?"

 "You most certainly mustl" snapped his wife. She sailed like
a fullrigged vessel across the great room, took the gloves
from the drawer, and with the boys beside her, watched the
President, sternly, while he worked his great hands into the
white kids.

 The clock on the mantel ticked loudly for many minutes,
during the process. Tick! Tockl Tickl Tockl Lincoln's mind
took a long stride. Food supplies running low, whose
carelessness, or worse, was that7 What had old General Scott
been thinking and doing7 A fine soldier, the Generalin-Chief
of the army, but weakened now by senility, and an interest in
politics. The old man must ease himself into retirement. Then
whom could Lincoln get adequately to head up the pitiful
excuse for an army7 All the months since his nomination,
Lincoln had been gathering information about the Federal
military resources, and sweating blood over Buchanan's
inadequacy. Who would head up the army until he knew
enough to head it up, himself Tickl Tockl Tickl Tockl

 "Papa dayl" plaintively from Taddie. "The hack has been
waiting to' us, fo' a long time."

"You mean the carriage, Taddie," corrected his mother.

"It's a hack, just like we'd go to the depot in, in Sp'ingfield,"
insisted

 "If you rush papa, he'll tear his gloves," said Willie,
breathing hard in sympathy with his father's struggles.

 "Almost done, boysl" exclaimed Lincoln. "Here, fasten this
button, Willie, and then both hands will be jailed for the
evening."

 With a chuckle, Willie complied, and Lincoln offered his
arm to his wife. But to the boys' great delight, although he
made a valiant effort, the President could not pass through
the broad doorway, beside the crinoline, and was obliged to
follow at a respectful distance. So, in a gale of laughter, the
family set off for the Inaugural Ball.

Outwardly, the ball was only a larger edition of the many
political func

16 FOREVER FREE

tions the Lincolns had attended, or had staged, themselves,
in Illinois. But Lincoln knew that the crowd was not made
up of folk from all sections of the country, as it normally
should have been. The South was absent. Social Washington,
which prided itself on belonging to the Southern aristocracy,
was absent. And the President, shaking hand after hand, was
never for a moment unconscious of the fact that, while the
Marine Band boomed and shrilled quadrilles waltz, and
polka, the nation was sick, and that it was like dancing in the
parlor while one's mother fought for life in the room
adjacent.

  Hand after hand in his own, he watched the faces keenly,
towering above the crowd, bending his head now and again
to say a special word to one who would pause for special
greeting, listening to Marshal Lamon's neverending
comments on the personages filing by, and never for a
moment ceasing to hear the choking struggle for existence in
the room adjacent.

  As the hours wore on, the noisy gayety about him grew
increasingly distasteful to him, and he was casting about in
his mind for an excuse to go home, when, about one o'clock,
a small hand caught Lincoln's left thumb, and he looked
down into Willie's solemn grey eyes. "Papa, Taddie's pretty
sick in there behind that bank of ferns. I found a
kind-looking man standing alone in a corner, and got him to
hold Tad while I got you."

  "Jingsl" exclaimed his father. "Your mother was right as
usuall Go find your aunts or your Uncle Todd. I'm busy."

  "They're all dancing. Besides Taddie says he'll yell if
anybody but you comes for him. If you'll come round
through the passage behind you, there won't many folks
notice you."

  Lincoln glanced about him. His mentor, Marshal Lamon,
was giving his attention, for the moment, to a tall, handsome
woman, with three great ostrich plumes protruding from the
top of her head.

"Lead quickly, son," said Lincoln.

  A moment later he was stooping over Taddie, who was
reclining across the knees of a rubicund gentleman in
immaculate evening attire. The President lifted the child,
holding him easily across his chest with one great arm.

"He'll do now, I think, Mr. President," said the gentleman.

  "All my faultl" exclaimed Lincoln. "I always was, and will
be, the prize fooll You've moved into a warm place in my
heart, sir, without needing to knock at the door."

  "I hope I may not be moved out, Mr. President," returned
the rubicund gentleman, with something earnest in his smile,
and scrutinising Lincoln closely, as he spoke. "You and I may
have need of a firm sympathy with each other, sir. I am
William Russell of the London Times."

  "I know the London Times," said Lincoln. "I suspect it's
one of the greatest powers in the world. In fact, I don't know
of a greater, except, perhaps, the Mississippi. Come and see
me, Mr. Russell."

"Thank you, Mr. President, I will," returned the Englishman,
gravely.

THE PLOT AGAINST THE LINCOLNS 17

 Taddieopened his eyes. "You'd betta get me home befo' I'm
sick again," he said in a warning tone.

 Lincoln shook Russell's hand, both men laughing, then fled
into the passageway, where he met the outraged Lamon, who
growled, savagely:

 "Look here, Lincoln, there's no call for you to play nurse,
at this particular moment. I want to tell you "

 "It's no time now for a report from the subcommittee,"
interrupted Lincoln, coolly. "Get our hack, Hill, and call my
wife. I'm taking Tad home."

The Marshal groaned, but strode off as he was bidden.

  With unusual self-control, Mary said nothing on the ride
home, regarding Tad's share in cutting the party short, but
after both boys were in bed, in the rooms across the hall from
their parents, she came into her husband's room to brush her
hair. Lincoln, once more in the blue dressing gown, was
slowly pacing the floor.

  Mary in a long, pink flannel boudoir sacque took a
vehement stroke at her shining brown locks.

  "Abra'm, I've held off for an hour, but I'm going to tell you
now that this thing can't be repeated. You must promise to
let me control the boys' doings, or they'll not only make our
lives miserable, but they'll be known as public nuisances. It
was bad enough in Springfield, but, after all, every one there
knew us and the children, and, I hope, made allowances.
Here, misbehavior on their part will raise more enemies for
you than you're willing to believe. You must make up your
mind to say 'Nor' Good heavens, are you going to be as weak
as this with that ravening horde of office seekers? I can't
understand how a man of your really remarkable judgment of
human beings can be so spineless in his actions toward them."

  Lincoln watched the brush following the bright waves of
hair. That horde of office seekers! All week, they had packed
the corridors of Willard's Hotel. They pursued him like the
creatures of a nightmare. Tomorrow, they would descend
upon the White House. Nicolay would help. There was a
man, young as he was, who could say "No," so that even a job
seeker understood it. Yes, Nicolay must take the initial shock
tomorrow, while he extracted what he could from old General
Scott.

  "Abra'ml" cried Mary. "You aren't listening to me at alll
Stop pacing the floor, and give me an answer."

  Lincoln paused before her. "My dear Mary, what answer is
there to giver I know my shortcomings as well as you do. I'll
husk out the offficeseeking job somehow, I reckon. As for the
boys, Mary, if my life depended on it, I couldn't deny them
a pleasure it was possible for me to give them. We've worried
the thing over between us a hundred times. It's no use. I
know my limits."

  No one knew better than Mary that it was no use, and,
having given vent to her irritation, she sighed and
acknowledged defeat by saying, with an air of general
interest:

8 FOREVER FREE

 "No, you have no illusions about yourself or any one else.
You are a man without illusions. There lies the basis of your
great strength."

"And weakness," added Lincoln.

 Mary nodded, and neither spoke, while she finished
brushing and braiding the long, beautiful strands. When she
had finished, she followed her husband in a turn up and
down the room, then she brought him to pause and, looking
earnestly up into his face, she said:

 "I'm not going to nag you, Abra'm, one bit, if I can help
it. You know how abominably quick my tongue isl I fight it
as hard as you do your own loving heart. I shall leave you
alone as much as I possibly can, and still take proper care
of you."

 Lincoln returned her look. "Don't you worry about
nagging me, Mary. I need nagging. Nobody but you and I
know what I owe to that same nagging of yours. They'd
laugh me out of the White House if I had the manners now
that I had when you married me, twenty years ago. All I
want to warn you of is this: Confine your nagging to me and
the household help. Let the President's help alone."

"I'll try. Good night, Abra'm. God keep you and help you."

 "I guess He will, if I do my share," replied her husband,
cheerfully, and as she went into her own room, he resumed
his tramping from fireplace to window and back again.

                CHAPTER II
       TBE SEARCr] FOR TRUTrf BEGINS

T INCOLN went down to breakfast, the next morning, at eight
o'clock. He had difficulty, even at that early hour, in eluding
the crowd that I packed the main hall on the first floor and
the public staircase. Old

 aniel, the assistant doorkeeper, held the mob at bay by a
rope across the stairhead. He was addressing the foremost
gentlemen in a wheedling manner:

 "For Gawd's sake, gentlemen, use the cuspidors! Use 'eml
Polished for this very occasion." Lincoln smiled, as he fled
down the hall, and closed the door of the family dining room
after him.

 And it looked for a time as if even this room were not
safe, for three gentlemen thrust their heads through a north
window, and begged in unison for post office appointments
in Iowa, Vermont, and Ohio. Marshal Lamon, who was
breakfasting with Lincoln, ejected them without wasting a
word on them, and locked the windows as well as the door
into the room.

 The President made no comment, nor did he do more than
nod when Lamon outlined his plans for the Presidential
Levee, to be held on March 8. When he had finished his
meal under Mary's eye, he would have eaten nothing had
she not kept plate and cup filled, Lincoln went upstairs to
the President's office.

 He entered it slowly and glanced around, with the thought
that he ought to give attention to the details of its
furnishings, since so large a part of the next four years was
to be spent here. He noted the marble fireplace with its
brass fenders and bright wood fire, the south windows with
their view of the half-finished Washington monument,
protruding from the acres of rubbish, the shining Potomac,
and the red hills of Virginia beyond. He noted the huge oak
Cabinet table in the middle of the room, a smaller table near
one of the windows, which would be his own desk, a shabby
sofa on either side of the east door into the secretaries'
office, maps and dull portraits on the walls. A sweeping
glance gave him all this before George Nicolay, followed by
young Hay and Stoddard, came forward to greet him.

 William Stoddard, a friend of John Hay, was a charming,
slender youth, of even more the scholar type than Hay. He
was destined to have first handling of all the President's
mail. Lincoln's choice of two young men of this character,
Mary wrote her sister that day, was, to her, one more proof
of his fine judgment of men. Lincoln put a cordial arm over
Stoddard's shoulders.

 "You've got a tough job, Billy, clearing stumpage for the
rest of us to prow. And it'll get worse instead of better.
Think your nerve will holds"

20 FOREVER FREE

 Stoddardblushed with pleasure, and stuttered with
embarrassment and Lincoln, wearing a friendly grin that
showed his even, white teeth, turned to Nicolay as to an old
friend. And though Nicolay had been with Lincoln only since
the beginning of his election campaign, he already had
earned the standing of an old friend. He was a Hanoverian
by birth, and, as Thurlow Weed said after bumping against
him in Springfield, somewhat bilious of temperament, a
compliment, coming from a politician of Weed's ilkl All that
a man of firm character and deep loyalty could do to stand
between Lincoln's kindliness, and the politician's rapacity,
George Nicolay was to do. All that a keen student of
American history and politics, a fluent writer, an adept at
handling detail, could give to Lincoln, through four
exhausting years, he was to give.

 As for externals, he looked older than his twenty-eight
years. He was of middle height, with a cool, penetrating dark
eye, and a short mustache and goatee that concealed a firm,
not unhumorous mouth.

"Well, Nicolay," said Lincoln, "are we ready to fire the
salute?"

 "We are, sir," replied Nicolay with a smile. "General Scott
is waiting for you in the reception room."

 "Goodl" The President nodded. "Stoddard, shunt the folks
waiting on the stairs directly into the secretaries' office.. I
want you boys to do what you can to weed them out before
they reach me. Give each one a fair hearing, but keep them
moving."

 "Shall we send them to the heads of the departments in
which they want jobs?" asked Hay.

 "Not at first," replied Lincoln. "The heads haven't been
inducted into office yet, and anyhow, I want to get a line on
the problem myself. A new party, they look for the spoils
to be tremendous. We've got to give out offices enough to
keep the influential men in line. On the other hand, our
problems are going to be strange enough without adding to
them by crippling the regular Federal business with green
hands. By the way, John, when you have a free moment, I
wish you'd buy me Halleck's book on military strategy. Have
it put in my bedroom. Get the money from Mrs. Lincoln."

 Young Hay gave the President a bright, curious look as he
answered promptly, "I will, Mr. Lincoln."

 The President nodded dismissal and, striding across the
room, put his head into the reception hall.

"Come in, Generall Come inl"

 A handsome old gentleman, smooth-shaven, save for
sideburns, wearing a blue broadcloth uniform with sash and
gold epaulets, greeted the President with a stiff bow, and,
obviously hampered by age and great lameness, followed
into the office, where both men seated themselves before
the fire.

 "General," asked Lincoln, without preliminaries, "Major
Anderson says he's got to have bread down there at Fort
Sumter. What are you going to do about it?"

THE SEARCH FOR TRUTH BEGINS 21

 The old General sat stiffly erect. "That, Mr. President,
cannot be decided without much study."

 "Well, I suppose you've been studying, as you say, for a
good many months. Go ahead and tell me just what the
conditions are in Charleston harborl I'm a willing learner,
General."

 General Scott cleared his throat, and began an elaborate
description of the fortification and defenseofthe harbor. He
spoke, as was his wont, in sounding phrases, embellished with
classic anecdotes.

 Lincoln, sitting with his hands clasped about his left knee,
listened patiently until the old man finished, and then,
without changing his posture, he said: "General, there's a
story out in my neck of the woods of a man whose cabin
burned down, and the neighbors all contributed something to
start him over again. They were so liberal that he found
himself better off than he'd ever been before, and he grew
proud and particular. One day, a neighbor brought him a bag
of oats, but the man who'd been burned out refused it. 'No,
friend!' said he, 'I'm not taking oats now. I'm taking nothing
but money."'

 The General stared at the President, puzzled and half
offended. "What am I to understand by that, sir? Surely this
is no moment for levity!"

 "Certainly it's not," agreed Lincoln, "but we each speak in
our own tongue. I can't point my remarks from the classics,
so I use the illustrations that're familiar to me. What I mean
is this: My neighbors have put me in a position where I can
demand something of real value. I want the military facts in
the Fort Sumter crisis, General, not the sort of evasions you
hand out to the folks under you."

 The fine old soldier rose painfully, and with every aspect of
outraged dignity. Before he could speak, however, Lincoln
thrust him gently into his chair, and patted him on the
shoulder.

 "Therel There, Generall You mustn't take offence at me! If
I promise to endure your Greek heroes, you must promise to
put up with my worthies from the Sangamon. I understand
your position, how you've been thwarted by the Congress in
all attempts to put the army on a war basis, how you've been
imposed on and harassed by politicians, and how your great
talents "

 "Tutl Tutl" puffed General Scott, suddenly smiling, "all this
is unnecessaryl I'm a soldier and enjoy fights of every kind. I
have every sympathy for your difficulties, sir. Command mel"

 "Are you sure you understand what my difficulties are,
General7" asked Lincoln, anxiously. "You and I must see
single-eyed, for we're destined to tackle this together."

"My vision perhaps has military restrictions, sir," replied Scott.

 Lincoln looked into the glowing fire, and spoke slowly:
"This Government has been handed over to me, not in its
original integrity, but humbled, diminished, and threatened.
I'm going to restore it, but I look to exhaust all peaceful
means first. I know that delay works in the interest of
rebellion, but how can I threaten force until I'm in a position
to use it?

22 FOREVER FREE

Our military strength is almost nothing. But that's not the
worst. The North is torn by dissension, where it's not
completely indifferent. Of just one thing I'm sure. I shall give
up nothing that Buchanan hasn't already let slip. You must
plan to reenforce Sumter, at once."

 The General's reply was prompt. "To supply or reenforce
the fort, sir, would require a fleet of vessels and transports
that would take four months to collect, also 5000 regulars
and 20,000 volunteers, which would require new acts of
Congress to authorize, and from six to eight months to raise,
organize, and discipline. The rebels at Charleston are in a
position of enormous strength, sir."

 The President jerked his head, ran his fingers through his
black hair until it stood on end, then asked abruptly:

"What about Fort Pickens at Pensacola?"

"We still hold it, but it should be reenforced without delay."

  "Get at that job at once," said Lincoln, "and try to work
out a better plan for Fort Sumter. In the meantime, I'll send
some one to Charleston to see if there's any truth in the
rumor that there are many Unionists still there. Well," with
his sudden smile, "I reckon I've given you a mean job of
knitting, General. Something like turning the heel of the
sock, eh7

  The old man, who had been eyeing the President keenly,
replied with a gallant attempt to speak in the vernacular:
"Many soldiers are expert knitters, sir," and rose once more.

  Lincoln nodded, and putting his great arm around the
General's waist, much disarranging the yellow sash, thereby,
he assisted him to the door.

  "Louis," he said to the waiting messenger, "go down to the
General's carriage with him, then find out how Tad is this
morning."

  "He's fine, sir," replied Louis with a grin, as he took the
old soldier gently under the arm. "He and Willie have just
been fighting in the hall, and their mother had some trouble
pulling Tad off his brother."

  The President laughed and returned to his desk, where
Nicolay was waiting with a list of persons whom he thought
Lincoln ought to see.

  The next few hours were like a nightmare to Lincoln, with
men filing in and out of his room, at the shortest possible
intervals, all of them with their demands made in terms of
highest possible urgency on their part, and implying the
greatest possible obligation to them on Lincoln's part. Just
as he had reached the point where he felt he could endure
no more, he was rescued by young Stoddard, who announced
that the foreign diplomats were awaiting him in the Blue
Drawing Room. He remained chatting with the diplomats for
an hour, then, as the last Minister, M. Mercier of France,
bowed himself out, Mary burst in from the Red Room.

  "I thought they'd never leave," she groaned. "I'm trying to
check over the list of necessary repairs. This house looks like
a shabby hotel on the point of failure! It's absurd, this
attempt to keep it on such simple lines. The President's wife
must consult every morning with the darky cook, and plan all
the meals for the day. I don't mind the work, but it seems as
if my time ought to be more valuable. When the mob thins
out of the

THE SEARCH FOR TRUTH BEGINS 23

East Room, I want you to look at the carpet in there. It has no
pile left." The President looked down at her with the same
expression of amused tenderness that he gave the children,
and Mary was quick to note it.

 "You think I don't recognizethe importance of your work7
I do. But I consider the carpet in the East Room quite as
much a matter for the President's attention as the post master
in Soap Creek."

"I've got to understand the problem " began Lincoln.

 "Nonsense!" interrupted Mary. "You haven't the cold blood
to turn them out, just as you can't tell me to stop wasting
your time!"

She left abruptly, closing the door of the East Room behind
her.

 Lincoln rumpled his hair, then pulled the bell rope. To the
colored servant who answered he said:

"What's your name, young man?"

"James, Mr. President, sir."

 "Well, James, how am I to get back up to my office without
the coat and breeches being pulled off me by my
constituents?"

 James grinned broadly, and scratched his head. "Well, Mr.
President, sir, you kin work round to the help's stairs, sir, and
then and then there you is, sirl Don't do you no good,
nohowl You'd have to cross upstairs, where they're swarming
thickest."

 Lincoln chuckled. "Go find Marshal Lamon, and send him
to me, here. Tell him I need help, and need it quick."

 He turned to throw a stick of wood on the fire, then waited,
motionless, his eyes on the flames, his thoughts on Fort
Sumter, until Lamon's imposing figure in blue-checked
trousers and fawn-colored, long-tailed coat, appeared in the
doorway.

 "Lemon," said the President, "I want you to get the
job-hunters moved out into the yard, or somewhere. I've got
so I don't feel as if I was master in my own house. You might
pass the word around that I can't do anything until the
members of the Cabinet take office, later in the week, and
that, after they're in, I'll do as little as I can."

 "That's the ideal" agreed the Marshal. "You'd better stay
here while I call off all bets. They'll all be mad."

 "One moment, Lamonl" Lincoln drew the Marshal near him
and said in a low voice, "I've just been thinking that the
hatred and rancor out there on the staircase, the greed and
confusion, are typical of the whole country. Confusion worse
confounded! I must understand! I must have factsl I must
know before I act. For instance, what's the real temper of
Charleston? Look here; I'm going to send you down there to
inspect the Post Office, though, by jings, you're better fitted
to inspect the face tracksl And I'm going to ask my old friend
Hurlbut to go down with you, to visit his sister who lives in
Charleston. You'll draw the fire, as representing me, while
Hurlbut gets the facts. Start as soon as you can."

"Shall I go before the levee7" asked the Marshal.

 "Lemon, shall we stand shaking hands at the front door
while fire rages in our cellars"

24 FOREVER FREE

"Right againl"ejaculated the Marshal. "I'll find Hurlbut,
to-night."

 Lincoln nodded. "I'm not sure what the duties of a
Marshal are, are you, Lamon? Struck me, when they told me
we had to have one, that he would be about as useful to me
as that cane my wife made me carry at the inaugural
ceremonies."

 "I'd come to the conclusion about an hour ago," replied
Lamon, "that I was supposed to be something like a cross
between a time-keeper and a tout; and I was going off
behind the woodshed for a good cry. But the thought of
Charleston steadies my nerves."

 "Well," chuckled the President, "you might try to earn part
of your keep by helping to get me back to my office againt"
He looped his arm in that of his friend and together they
made the difficult journey to the upper floor.

 Seward was ill for a day or so after the inauguration, but
on the evening of the sixth of March he strolled into the
President's office, accompanied by William Russell. Lincoln
was glad to see the famous war correspondent. He had taken
an instant liking to him, but, more than that, it was highly
important that England obtain a just view of America's
burning problem. This man, unless Lincoln's keen judgment
of men was at fault, would probe to the bottom, and report
only on what he actually brought to light.

 "Well, sir," Lincoln patted him on the back, "you're as
welcome as the first batch of buckwheat griddle cakes. Ever
eat any7"

 Russell smoothed his dark mustache with a manner that
might have indicated a touch of embarrassment, but his
voice was unperturbed.

"Never, Your Excellencyl"

 "Come to breakfast here along next November, sir, and
we'll see what my wife can do to lift your ignorance. In the
meantime, draw up to the fire and tell me what England will
do if war visits this unhappy country." Lincoln pulled out a
chair as he spoke.

 "We'll have no war, and my prophecy is that the seceding
states will shortly begin to return at the rate of one a
month," exclaimed Seward, as he eased his frail figure into
a chair.

 "There, Mr. Russell, from his own lipst And any one in
these United States'll tell you that Seward knows more about
the matter than I do," said Lincoln.

 Russell turned from his scrutiny of the President to
Seward, who made no attempt to deny Lincoln's statement.
Seated, Seward was far more impressive than standing, for
his marked stoop, and his careless habit of dress were thus
made~inconspicuous, and his finely shaped head, with his
thin, smooth-shaven face, the secret, penetrating eyes, the
aquiline nose and humorous mouth, were given their full
value.

 "The report is true, I suppose," said Russell, "that Jefferson
Davis issued a call this morning for 1oo,ooo volunteers for
three years7"

Seward gasped. "Good God! I didn't hear that! Is it
authentic, Russell7"

"I believe that it is," replied the war correspondent.

THE SEARCH FOR TRUTH BEGINS 25

 Seward jumped to his feet. "Welles and Cameron must
know this, at once. Excuse me, Russelll" He rushed from the
room.

 The two men left before the fire looked at each other, and
Lincoln smiled. Russell seemed puzzled. "Mr. Welles is
Minister of the Navy and Mr. Cameron of War, are they
not?"

"Secretaries, we call 'em."

"But surely they must have the report?"

 "Just to make sure, I sent it to them an hour ago," replied
the President, dryly. "Seward will find one at his house or
office."

 There was a pause, during which the Englishman pondered
heavily, and Lincoln turned over in his mind the questions on
the theory of democracy he would like to discuss with him.
But before he could frame the first query Russell broke the
silence.

"Mr. Seward is a very important figure in your country."

 "None more so," replied the President. "It was fully
expected that he'd be Republican nominee for this job, and
he deserved the nomination far more than I did. In fact, I'm
a good deal like the fellow who wandered out in his pasture
during a storm to find his cows, put up an umbrella, and the
lightning struck himl I've held almost no office. Seward, on
the other hand, has been Governor of one of our greatest
States, and is our foremost party manager. He has been a
Senator, and is a distinguished lawyer. He, rightly, has
enormous weight in this country."

"Are you to be quoted on this, Mr. President?" asked Russell.

  "I suppose I've said nothing that couldn't be printed,"
replied Lincoln, carefully, "but I reckon we'd better agree
right here that you quote me to no one. I'd like to have you
get the English people started right on Seward, though. He's
going to kick over the traces a bit, and have trouble sticking
near the starting post. But if he strikes his possible stride, no
one can beat him in his job."

  Russell was again eyeing Lincoln keenly and thoughtfully.
"Perhaps, Mr. President, you'd be interested in hearing the
opinion of Seward I've sent to the Times?"

"Yes, I'd like to hear it!" exclaimed Lincoln.

  Russell pulled out his notebook and began to read:
"Seward, a subtle, quick man, rejoicing in power, given to
perorate and to oracular utterances, fond of badinage,
bursting with the importance of state mysteries, and with the
dignity of directing the foreign policy of the greatest
country,  all Americans think, in the world."

  He put up the notebook, but before Lincoln could speak,
Mrs. Lincoln burst into the office. Her face was flushed, her
eyes dark, and she spoke breathlessly:

"Mr. Lincoln, I must have your ear for a moment!"

  Russell rose, bowing to Mary as she said, "Pardon me, sir!
But I've received such an especially insulting letter that I
can't put off showing it to Mr. Lincoln."

"I'll withdraw, at once, Madam President," murmured the
Englishman.

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 "No, you won't, sirl" declared Lincoln. "I want to thresh
out several matters with you. Mary, let me introduce Mr.
Russell of the London Times, and let me see that letter."

 Mary offered her hand with a quick smile that did not,
however, quench the anger in her blue eyes. "Mr. Hay told
me that you were in Washington. We shall hope to see you
at the White House frequently."

"You are very gracious " began Russell.

 He was interrupted by an angry snort from Lincoln. "Here,
Russell, look at this gush of sewage! What can a man in my
job do when his wife receives that kind of an insult?"

 The Englishman read, his ruddy face turning a slow purple
as he did so. Having finished, he dropped it to the floor, as
though the slime it contained were tangible. He and Lincoln
looked at each other.

 "How about giving it to your police?" asked Russell. "It's
unsigned, you Seed

"Right!" nodded Lincoln, "I'll do that, to-night."

 "But what I want to know," cried Mary, "is thisl Leaving
out the nastiness, is the letter true? Is there a cabal formed
here in Washington strong enough to wreck any social
efforts I make as mistress of the Executive Mansion?"

 "Mary, I'm afraid they're going to try," replied Lincoln,
sadly. "It's one of the prices you pay for being my wife."

"But have you facts, Mr. Lincoln7" demanded Mary.

 The President turned to the reporter. "You've only been
in Washington a short time. What have you heard?"

 Russell looked at Mary apologetically. "The women of
secession sympathies are vehement, active, and
extraordinarily venomous. Much of their venom seems to be
aimed at Mrs. Lincoln."

 Mary sank into the chair Seward had vacated. "It doesn't
seem possiblel" She looked from her husband to the
Englishman. "You know a good deal about the society of
capitals, I'm sure, Mr. Russell. Give me some advice."

 "Ask the President to require the secretary who opens his
mail to open yours also. You should never see such letters,"
replied Russell promptly. "As for the others, I'd devote all
my thoughts and talents to the President's constituents."

 "Never!" cried Mary. "I mean as to the matter of the
letters, your advice is excellent. The letters shall go to young
Stoddard. But as to the rest of it, give in weakly to those
hussies? Cease at the behest of this vile anonymity to hold
my levees and balls? Why, the idea is preposterous! I'll fight
them with my last breathI"

 "Bravo!" exclaimed Russell. "Command me to help you in
any possible way, Madam President."

 Mary laughed excitedly. "I shall, indeed. We'll see! Fort
Sumter and I are both flying the flag. We shall " The door
from the family sitting room

THE SEARCH FOR TRUTH BEGINS Z7

slammed, and the three before the fire turned to behold
Willie clinging to the knob.

"Mamma, I want the arnica bottle," he said.

 "Willie, what have you been doing? Come into the light
where I can see your" exclaimed his mother.

 Willie came slowly forward. His black hair was disheveled,
his lower lip was bleeding, his collar torn, and his trousers
mud stained. He paused beside his father, who pulled him
gently to his great knees, and began to staunch the dribble of
blood with a red cotton handkerchief. The firelight flickered
unevenly on the group, and Russell regarded it, with sudden
tenderness in his cynical eyes.

"What's been troubling you, sweetheart?" asked Lincoln.

 "Out on Pennsylvania Avenue, just now, I went to the little
refreshment stand to buy some pop," replied Willie, his
boyish voice unhurried, like his father's. "A lady was there
buying some for her boy. I guess he's about fourteen. And
this lady said to the other lady that yonder was the White
House, where the Illinois gorilla and his ape wife were setting
up their menagerie. I couldn't hit the lady, so I licked jelly
out of the boy. I hate Washington."

 "Oh, that's not right for a child to hear such things! How
can they! What have we ever done7" cried Mary, dropping to
her knees before Willie, and kissing his grimy hand.

 "Don't be too troubled, wife," begged Lincoln. "You and
Willie can't fight my battles. And that's all it is. Just trying to
hurt me through you."

 Willie suddenly blinked back tears. "I'll always fight 'em!
With my last breath, I'll fight 'emI"

 "Look here, old chap," said Russell, suddenly, to Willie, "if
you'll show me where to get some ice, I'll show you how to
take the swelling from that lip, quite in the manner of the
best prizefighter."

"Do you know any prizefighters?" asked Willie, eagerly.

"I've seen all the best of them and know them, too," said
Russell, rising.

 Willie left his father and slipped his fingers into Russell's.
"I like English men better than American ladies," he
volunteered. "You helped me out when Tad vomited the
other night. Come on, we'll find James. And Tad will want to
see the blood."

 He was still chattering, in his unhurried voice, as the door
into the sitting room swung behind him and his guest. Mary
and her husband stared at each other in a silence too
pregnant for speech.

                CHAPTER III
             TrLE FIRST LEVEE

O Lincoln, the levee on the eighth of March was not an
unamusing affair, primarily because of Seward. He thought
of Russell's char

 . - acterization of the Secretary of State a number of times
during the evening, and chuckled as he thought. For, while
the President and Mrs. Lincoln received the endless stream
in the Blue Room, Seward established himself in the Green
Room, within the President's line of vision, and there
received tribute from a stream, which, though not so long,
was in many ways more brilliant, and certainly more
deferential, than that which passed by Lincoln.

 In a momentary lull in the handshaking ordeal, Mary
touched her husband's arm. She was wearing a magenta,
brocaded silk dress and looked, Lincoln thought, as though
she belonged in the elaborately furnished drawing room,
with its candelabra, its carved cabinets, its gilt and satin
furnishings.

"Getting tired, Mary?" he asked.

 She shook her head. "Have you observed Governor
Seward7 What stupid fools make up our public!"

 "I'm more grateful to him every minute for taking up some
of my slack," declared the President, rubbing his aching
hand.

 "Look; who's that with him now?" asked Mary. "What a
wonderful looking manl Is it another Englishman? Lord
Lyons?"

 "That's Charles Sumner, Senator from Massachusetts,"
replied Lincoln. "He and Seward will have many a tussle
before the crop's husked out. Sumner's now Chairman of the
Senate Committee on Foreign Relations."

 A man of Lincoln's own great height towered high above
little Seward's white head. For a moment, Mary could see
him clearly, then the crowd closed in, and only her husband
could observe the face of the Senator from Massachusetts.
It was a face familiar enough to the President, one that he
thought again, as he had many times before, was the most
winning in expression he ever had seen. The broad, massive
forehead, from which was tossed back thick, brown hair, only
lightly touched with gray, although Sumner was fifty, the
deep blue eyes, the well cut lips were the fine embodiment
of the essentially noble spirit of the man.

 Over the heads of the milling crowd, President and
Senator caught each other's gaze, and for a moment grey
eyes held blue. A little later, Sumner, with a lady on his arm,
came to a halt before the Presidential party, and the crowd,
willy-nilly, was deflected, as though a great boulder had
dropped into a current, thrusting it from its course.

"I'm glad to see you, Sumner," said Lincoln.

"And I you, Mr. Lincoln. May I present my friend, Miss
Ford, from

THE FIRST LEVEE Z9

the red hills of Virginia, one of the social leaders of the old
South in Washington7"

  Lincoln made his quick, quaint bow over the languid hand
of the tall, striking-looking young woman in green silk.

  "I'm not sure that is a tactful recommendation to a
Republican administration," exclaimed Miss Ford, in her
curiously clear and penetrating, though drawling, voice.

  "But my wife would say you were the more welcome as a
Virginian, to a Republican levee, I reckon," said the
President, presenting the Senator and Miss Ford to Mary.

  "This is the first time in six years that I've entered the
White House portals, Madam President," said Sumner. "I
regard this as one of the most privileged moments of my life."

  "Mary," Lincoln's hand was on Sumner's shoulder, "take a
good look at this fellow. Seward told me once that Sumner
was his ideal of a cosmopolitan, but I disagree with Seward.
Sumner's my ideal of a bishop, though I never met one."

  Mary, who had been exchanging greetings with Miss Ford,
looked up into the Senator's face. She liked Sumner instantly
and warmly. And Sumner, keen observer of women, perceived
in the President's wife that intellectual vitality and acumen
which he told himself could be little appreciated by the type
of men and women with whom her lot was cast.

  "After all," said Mary, "I don't see why one ideal is
necessarily incompatible with the other."

  "When you know me better," Sumner was smiling, "I think
you'll discover I'm nothing so unhuman as either."

  "Come, Senator, do give me an opportunity to admire Mrs.
Lincoln's dressl" protested Miss Ford. "You have the most
perfectly monopolistic manner I've ever seen. I suppose you
acquired it in London drawing rooms. It's not American, I
assure you."

  "What must I do7" asked Sumner. "Am I not to keep you
sheltered from the mob7"

  Mary gave Miss Ford a second keen look, which took in the
beautiful chestnut ringlets, the flashing violet eyes, the clear
cut mouth and chin. She at once discovered that out of all the
hundreds of women's faces that had moved before her vision
that night, this one alone roused her interest. She drew Miss
Ford a little back of the receiving line. Charles Sumner
followed, glancing from one woman to another, his blue eyes
amused and keen.

"It was charming of you to come to-night," began Mary.

  "Not at all," protested Miss Ford, handing her huge ostrich
feather fan to Sumner, who immediately began to wave it
with the skill of long usage. "I've heard so much gossip about
you, Madam President, that frankly, I came to see for myself."

  Mary flushed a little as she smiled. "Ahl You are frank,
indeedl May I be equally frank, and ask you what your report
to your friends will be?"

So FOREVER FREE

 "That you have a charming taste in dressl" sweeping Mary
with a glance. "As for the rest, I am sure they must be
mistaken."

 Senator Sumner gasped at this exchange of feminine
amenities. "But, my dear Miss Ford 1"

 "Don't bother, Senatorl" exclaimed Mary. "I understand.
Miss Ford is giving me a chance. The rest are condemning
me unseen and unheard. I am grateful to her."

 "You are keen, Madam President," drawled the Virginian.
"You see, I've always been a friend of the White House, and
mighty proud of the privileges I possessed here. Of course,
of political necessity, those days are gone. I myself am
retiring to our plantation near Fairfax Courthouse. I don't
expect to live in Washington again till our family fortunes
have been retrieved. But when that time comes, if you all
are still here, I'd like to feel I still could drop in for a cup
of tea at the White House, as of old. Politics should not
prejudice social habits."

 Mary's blue eyes brightened with each of Miss Ford's slow
spoken sentences. "When are you leaving for the plantation,
Miss Ford?" she asked, eagerly.

"As soon as I can rent our house here, Madam President."

 "Before you go, say to-morrow afternoon, will you not
revive your old custom by taking tea with me? You are so
frank! I am, if you will come, going to presume upon your
frankness by asking you questions about the social problems
I am meeting here."

 The Virginian laughed. "That might be interesting, might
it not, Senator?"

 "No one could help Mrs. Lincoln more than you, Miss
Ford, if you will bury animosity," he replied, seriously.

 "Animosity? I am no Secessionist, Senatorl" exclaimed
Miss Ford. "I'm a pro-slavery Unionist."

 "I don't care what you arel" declared Mary. "Come and
have tea with me."

 The Virginian hesitated for a moment, then with a sudden
stretching of her hand to Mary, she exclaimed, "Well, thank
you; I reckon I can't resist your cordiality, Madam President.
I'll comer Senator, if you'll see me to my carriage, I'll
relieve you of that fan."

 With a swirl of billowing silk skirts, she made her bow and
moved away.

 Late the following afternoon, Miss Ford arrived at the
White House. She was accompanied by a negro maid, who
bore in her arms two squirming pups. Mary received her
guest in the family sitting room, upstairs, for it was the only
spot in the house outside of the bedroom safe from office
seekers.

 "The hound dogs are for your two boys," drawled the
Virginian. "Our old Sally littered in Washington, and I can't
bother taking six pups out to the plantation, when we
already have sixty of 'em. Put them on the hearthrug, Jinny,
and wait for me in the carriage."

THE FIRST LEVEE 31

  "And ask the doorman to send my two sons here at once,
please, Jinny," added Mary with an apprehensive eye on the
rug and the puppies.

  "Of course I know they'll become an intimate scourge in
your household7" continued Miss Ford, seating herself with
a careless and graceful adjustment of her crinoline. "But the
only thing I know for sure about boys is that they like dogs."

  "You're wonderfully kind," exclaimed Mary, really touched.
"Ah, here they arel" as the two boys burst into the room.
"Willie and Tad, come here before you touch the dogs, and
meet Miss Ford; then thank her for the gift."

  With the hasty casualness of childhood, the boys shook
hands, then leaped together for the hearthrug.

"The one with the black patch on his eye is mine!" shouted
Taddie.

"He's notl He's the biggest so he's miner" in Willie's
unhurried tones.

"You di'ty skunk " began Tad.

  Mary made no futile comment or gesture. She crossed the
room, put a pup under either boy's arm, took each boy by an
ear, and marched them to the hall door. "Out you go,
gentlemen all," she said and closed the door firmly after
them.

  "Are they often like that?" drawled Miss Ford, as Mary, a
little breathless, returned to her chair before the window.

  "That was mild. They are real boys," replied Mary, "so
admonition is wasted on them. They'll crowd till they come
up against something firm."

  "And you are that something firm, I imagine," said the
Virginian, fine, violet eyes fixed on Mary with interest.

  "I try to be," replied Mary. "I suppose they appear rude and
unattractive to you, as you don't know boys. But really, lads
of their age are very lovable, and it's not always easy to be
harsh with them as one must be."

"Shall you send them to school!" asked Miss Ford.

  "We think not. In a school they'd be both spoiled and
insulted. We shall have tutors."

  "Insulted?" Miss Ford pulled off her long black gloves, and
adjusted the wide lace collar that fell over her sloping
shoulders.

  Mary's eyes blazed as she nodded. "I'll explain to you what
I mean," and she told of the letter she had received and of
Willie's fight.

  "What fools people arel" exclaimed the Virginian when
Mary had finished. "I love your young Willie. He should have
been a Virginian."

  "He is one, remotely, on both his father's and my side."
Mary looked out the window to the hills that rolled beyond
the Potomac. "I am a Kentuckian, myself, though, and as
proud of that as you are of being a Virginian."

"How could you marry a Republican, then?" cried Miss Ford.

  "I didn't marry a Republican>" declared Mary, stoutly. "I
married"she paused thoughtfully, then she lifted her chin "I
married an intellectual and spiritual giant hidden for the
sins of some other life in the casings of a backwoodsman."

32 FOREVER FREE

 If Miss Ford felt an inclination to sneer, she hid it under
an admirable show of sympathetic interest.

 "I've helped him a little," Mary went on, "but not much.
He's unique, predestined. I've given him the normal life of
a husband and father without which he might have grown
awry. That's all."

 There was a moment's silence, after which Miss Ford
asked gently, "Is it your plan to introduce the President to
social Washington?"

 Mary laughed. "Thrust a full grown oak into a tiny garden
of annuals? But I'm really not the fool you think me, my
dearl I am the member of the family with social ambitions."

 Miss Ford put more sugar in her tea, and stirred it
gracefully, while she studied the shabby Brussels carpet with
its design of an upset basket of roses.

 "Ah," she sighed, at last, "I understand how intriguing it
must have been to marry such a giant, even though it was a
bitter dose for a Kentuckian to marry a man with Mr.
Lincoln's partiality for riggers."

 Mary's small figure in the huge padded arm chair drew
itself erect. "You are mistaken on two counts, Miss Ford.
Though I am a Kentuckian, I don't support slavery. Mr.
Lincoln has no partiality for riggers, as such."

 "You see," drawled the Virginian, "I own that black girl,
Jinny, and some twenty other riggers, in my own right. My
father owns about a hundred field hands and a dozen house
riggers. I haven't any desire to be stripped of my property by
this administration or any other."

 "But how could we strip you?" exclaimed Mary,
impatiently. "All Mr. Lincoln desires is to keep the Union
together. He knows he has no right to destroy slavery."

 Miss Ford's occasional dimple came into play. "I am so
relieved! As long as you and the President are not
Abolitionists, I am yours to command."

 "Abolitionist! I abhor the thoughtI" cried Mary. "Do have
a fresh cup of tea and tell me, what can I do to overcome
this dreadful cabal that has been raised against me in
Washington. You see," as Miss Ford's eyebrows arched, "I
am taking the bull by the horns, if you'll pardon the figure."

"Can you endure straight facts, Madam President?" asked
Miss Ford.

 Mary compressed her lips for a moment before replying.
"I must endure them, if my life here is not to be a social
fiasco. If I understand conditions, perhaps I can combat
them."

 "I believe that you cant" exclaimed the Virginian. "And if
I can help you otherwise than by what I am about to tell
you, I am yours to command. I certainly do admire spunk."

 Thereupon, Miss Ford gave a good half hour to instructing
Mary Lincoln with regard to the ramifications of
Washington society. She spoke with a sardonic deliberation
that fascinated her hearer, who realized that she was being
given an invaluable cross section of the social intrigues of
the women of the Capital.

 It was twilight, and the boys had brought the puppies back
to visit their former mistress, before Miss Ford left the
White House.

               CI IAPTER IV
                 MISS FORD

T INCOLN brought all three of his secretaries to the supper
table that L evening in an endeavor to catch up with the
hundred matters he had been obliged to overlook during the
day. Mary did not intrude on the business at hand. She
devoted herself to the boys' table manners.

 But for a hurried moment, as her husband left the dining
room she caught his hand.

"Miss Ford is going to help at my first levee, Abra'ml" she
began.

 "Yesl Yes, dear MaryI" stooping to kiss her. "You call on
young Stoddard to help you with your invitations. I'm on my
way to the Cabinet meeting."

 And he was gone, leaving Mary and young Stoddard
smiling at each other in bewilderment.

 This first official Cabinet meeting had cost Lincoln much
thought. His desire had been to deal with his secretaries
separately, until he and they had the routine of business well
in hand. But the machinations of the Secessionists were
forcing him out of his leisurely pace. His difficult assistants
would have to learn to pull together at once, and not after
they had adjusted themselves to office.

 He looked about the long table for a moment before
speaking, at these faces, none of which he believed looked
on his with actual friendliness. Then he gave the reason that
had forced him to what he felt was a premature session.

 "Gentlemen, General Scott told me, to-day, that he wants
us to evacuate Fort Sumter."

For a moment there was shocked silence.

 Seward was the first to speak. "Evacuate, then, by all
means! We'll soon have South Carolina back in the Union.
What does it matter?"

 Chase, the Secretary of the Treasury, and the handsomest
man in the Cabinet, leaned toward Lincoln, and said in the
voice one would use to an ignorant child:

 "Don't you know that giving up Fort Sumter will finally
convince the South that we are all supine cowards?"

 Bates, the Missourian, banged on the table. "Never!
Reenforce, if it requires fifty thousand men."

 Lincoln's face was inscrutable. The three men of his
Cabinet who had been his chief rivals for the Presidency had
spoken.

 Montgomery Blair, a Blair of Maryland, jumped to his
feet, overturning his chair. "By the living God, Mr. President,
I'd not only reenforce, but I'd send fifty thousand men into
South Carolina to bring her to her senses,

34 FOREVER FREE

as Andrew Jackson threatened to do when that traitorous
State attempted nullification."

 "I'd like further information," said Welles, cautiously. The
whitebearded Secretary of the Navy from Connecticut was
a Democrat, and out of sympathy with every one in the
room.

 Before Lincoln could reply, Seward began an elaborate
explanation of general conditions. Maryland was probably
hostile to the Union. Virginia, as well as Tennessee, was
wavering. Still, under his own careful manipulations, he was
sure they would be saved. Let force be used to take Fort
Sumter,and these States surely would join the so-called
Confederacy. He could save the country from actual war he
was sure, but he must have time, time.

 "Timer Timel" sneered Blair. "You parade your office,
Seward, while treason thrives on your intrigues."

 "Come, Blair, isn't that a little strong?" protested Seward,
with fine good nature.

 "You talk too much, Mr. Seward," snapped Welles. "You'll
chatter us into war, yet."

 Bates and Smith began to whisper together. Seward
rapped on the table. "Gentlemen, you ask for information.
How can I give it to you unless you favor me with your
undivided attentions"

 Welles turned angrily to the President, who sat with a leg
flung carelessly over one arm of his chair.

 "Is ex-Governor Seward chairman of this meeting, sir? Is
he privy to your information7 Is it fair to the rest of us that
he should be so?"

 "Seward has been seeing a lot of folks, Mr. Welles,"
replied Lincoln. "Let's get his report on 'em. Go ahead,
Governor. What do you reckon you'll do if you have timer"

 "This must be unofficial," said Seward, "but the
Secessionists have sent three commissioners up here, and
I'm in constant communication with them."

"That's not proper," exclaimed Smith, the Secretary of the
Interior.

"What about?" demanded Blair.

"Who are they7" asked Chase.

 "They have come to treat with the Administration for the
recognition of the Confederacy," was Seward's unperturbed
reply. "I hope to gain time by offering to negotiate with
them."

"And you permit this, Mr. President7" gasped Welles.

 "I7" Lincoln smiled. "I do not recognize the existence of a
Confederacyl Now, then, friends, you have all the facts I
have regarding Fort Sumter. Within the next two weeks I
hope to have more. In the meantime, I shall take all your
opinions under advisement. Please give me at any time, any
facts or ideas that may come to your minds."

 "Mr. President, when shall you call the next Cabinet
meetings" asked Welles.

MISS FORD 3 5

 The President hesitated. Seward replied for him. "I'll
undertake to let you know, Mr. Welles."

 "You?" exclaimed the Secretary of the Navy. "Thank youi
But I know of no reason that prevents my dealing directly
with the President."

 Lincoln spoke soberly. "Meetings must be irregular until the
confusion of office seekers, and our newness to the routine of
the jobs subside. I certainly shall not fail to take direct
counsel with each or all of you when need arises."

"But what is to be done about Sumter7" insisted Blair.

  Again Seward attempted to reply, and again Welles and
Blair raised their voices in violent protest against what they
styled his officiousness.

  Lincoln watched and listened with absorbed interest. A
Cabinet of brilliant men he had desired, and had procured.
But also it appeared he had gathered together men of violent
feelings, deep egotism, childish antipathies, and each one as
personal in his reactions as Mary, in her most personal
moments.

  So far, Lincoln had known these men only in their public
capacities  as Democrats and Republicans, as Radicals or
Conservatives, as Senators, Judges, Governors. Before he
could hope to head up this alarmingly accomplished group,
he must know them as human beings. A few more sessions
like this, he told himself, and their characters would be
exposed as no number of individual conferences would expose
them. Jealousy is a pitiless betrayer of the weak and sordid in
human desires. Ever since boyhood, Lincoln had been a close
and practical student of local politicians. These men differed
little, he thought, from those with whom he long had had
intimate contacts.

  It was late when the meeting ended, and it ended with no
policy formulated for the handling of the fort in Charleston
harbor. For a long time after the meeting had adjourned, the
President sat before the fire, passing in review each of the
seven men he had asked to help him through the impending
crisis. His mind remained longest with Seward. Of all the men
in the Cabinet, Seward was the most nearly essential for the
success of the task Lincoln had set himself. And yet, he was
the most dangerous to the welfare of the country. For, as
Lincoln had discovered in the past few weeks, Seward was not
a statesman but a politician; he was a profound egoist and a
busybody. Controlled and directed to a great single purpose,
no man in the United States could be more useful.
Uncontrolled7 he would waste his great talents and the
resources of his office on a thousand abortive alarms and
excursions.

  The clock on the mantel struck eleven as the door opened.
Lincoln was expecting Nicolay to bring him a report on
possible legal methods of forcing the collection of internal
revenue in the seceded States. He held out his hand without
turning his head.

"All right, Nicolayl You must be tired, boy. Go to bed."

"Mr. Presidentl" said a woman's voice.

Lincoln came slowly to his feet. Miss Ford, in a green velvet
riding

36 FOREVER FREE

habit, was standing near the door, which she had closed
suddenly behind her.

"How did you get here, Madam7" exclaimed the President.

  "Nothing could be simpler, my dear Mr. Lincoln," tossing
her riding crop on the table, and seating herself before the
fire. "Your doorman was asleep, as the rest of your
household seems to be. I was belated in a ride into the
country, and on sudden impulse, I stopped here. I am a
creature of impulse."

  "I see," said Lincoln, thinking, as he looked at her deep-set
eyes and firm, curved lips, that he never had seen a face
more brilliantly and coolly calculating. "What can I do for
you?"

  "Mr. Lincoln," leaning toward him, eagerly, "I know how
irregular this proceeding is but well, Mrs. Lincoln has
made a tremendous impression on me. I want to help her."

  It seemed to Lincoln that he never had seen a handsomer
woman, and he told himself, whimsically, that she was more
dangerous to unprotected men than all of old General
Scott's militia.

"What makes you think my wife needs help?" he asked.

  "Two things. First, as a Virginian who leads an active
social life, I know how bitterly the women of Washington are
going to wage war on her. Second, because she showed me
this afternoon that she intended to make an aggressive little
war of her own. She is an extremely able person. I think if
she receives the right kind of advice for a few weeks, she will
work wonders. But if she goes on in the recalcitrant spirit in
which she is beginning, she will fail, ignominiously."

Lincoln nodded. "You think you could give her that advice?"

"I certainly do. But I shall need your backing."

  "Mine? My dear Miss Ford, I never make suggestions to
Mrs. Lincoln about her tea fights and such. I'm not fitted for
it. Out home she managed things fine. I realize, of course,
that she's got a very different nut to crack here, but I don't
see where my backing will help." He rose to lean against the
mantel. He was tired, and, for all his desires to make Mary
happy, social intrigues were the last things that could touch
his interest. "You fix up any arrangement you like with my
wife. Don't bother me about it," with a little smile.

  Miss Ford's expression was bewildered. "But the suggestion
I had to make involves the outlay of money."

  "All rightl The Madam holds the purse strings in our
family," suppressing a yawn.

  She took the hint and rose. "But, Mr. President, this
involves you. Young Stoddard is no help to Mrs. Lincoln. I
want you to appoint me as one of the White House
secretaries, and allow me to manage the social end for both
of you. Don't let your lack of social experience blind you to
the importance of your entertaining adequately and
elegantly."

"Have you mentioned this to Mrs. Lincoln?" asked the
President.

"Yes, this afternoon, and she said I'd have to speak to you.
I got to

MISS FORD 37

thinking about it, on my ride, and as I'd heard that the only
chance to catch you alone was late at night, here I am." She
smiled at him7as though to say that she was throwing herself
on his mercy.

  Lincoln sighed. He liked women, but he knew that he was
no judge of them. Even as a lawyer, he was hopelessly
sentimental in handling them. Some thought of this made him
unwontedly cautious.

  "All my secretaries are recommended by folks I know and
trust," he said. "Who will recommend you, if my wife and I
should agree that such an arrangement is such as she might
like."

  "Mercy!" making a little face, "how important you make it
sound. Well, Senator Sumner is my friend and "

  "Sumner would be enough, in case Mrs. Lincoln takes a
notion to carry the idea through," the President interrupted.
"I'll talk it over with her. I'll call young Hay or Stoddard to
see you home, if you wish, Miss Ford."

  "No, pleaser Old Uncle Ben, my butler-groom, is outside
with my horse."

  "Then I'll see you to the door, myself," offering her his arm
with the comical, snapping bow that already was one of
Washington's jokes.

  They paced slowly along the dimly lighted halls, to the
lobby, where old Edward, his lined, Irish face relaxed in
sleep, sat bolt upright inside the door. Lincoln, smiling like a
boy in mischief, tiptoed past him and opened the door. The
Virginian slipped out into the March wind.

  The President returned to the second floor, and put his
head quietly into the door of the secretaries' office. Hay was
not to be seen. Nicolay sat at his desk, his head on his arms,
fast asleep. Lincoln crossed the room, and put his hand on
the young man's shoulder. Nicolay bounded to his feet,
blinked and apologised.

  The President slipped an arm around him. "Come with me,
George. There's something I want you to do."

  He led Nicolay out of the office and into the bedroom next
door, where, with the light dimmed, young Hay already lay
fast asleep. Lincoln led the young man up to the bedside.

  "Herel" he exclaimed. "Is a hint enough, or do I have to
undress you myself, George?"

  Nicolay laughed. "You're too good to me, sir. I haven't
finished the report."

  "But you've finished yourself! Can't have you done up
before the race begins. Look at John, therel Doesn't look a
day over eighteen. Nice boyl Good big funny-bonel" Lincoln
pulled the quilt over young Hay's shoulders and tiptoed out.

  He did not return to his office, but with a lighted candle,
which he took from the hall table, he entered one of the
bedrooms opposite his and Mary's. Willie lay with a pillow
over his head and a puppy curled up against his back. Lincoln
removed the pillow, kissed the boy's moist forehead, and went
into Tad's room. Tad's covers were on the floor. Tad's feet
were on his pillow on which also lay a whimpering little
hound. Lin

38 FOREVER FREE

coin chuckled, turned the boy skillfully around to share the
pillow with the pup, and lifted the covers over him. Then,
shading the candle, he gazed down at the child.

 "Pretty boyl Pretty little fellowl Wonderful to think of
anything with that beauty coming from my loins," he
thought. Then he crossed the hall into his wife's room.

 She was propped up in bed reading, with a candle at her
elbow. She looked up at her husband with a smile.

 "Glad you're awakel" he exclaimed, putting his candle
beside her, and sitting down on the bed. "I'm having trouble
to ease myself to bed, tonight, somehow."

"Overtired, poor dearl" murmured Mary. "Shall I read you
to sleeps"

"I guess not, Mary. I just dismissed a lady visitor."

 "For goodness' sakel" ejaculated Mary, her eyes twinkling.
"Have they begun, already?"

 "Seems likel" with a broad grin that quickly faded into a
scowl of concentration. "It was that Miss Ford. Let me tell
you."

He gave the details of the conversation.

  Mary listened intently. "She went further than I meant,"
she said when Lincoln had finished, "but, if Charles Sumner
recommends her, what do you think of the idea?"

  "I can't put her on my official pay roll," replied the
President. "If you want to pay her out of my salary, it's all
right with me. You know what you want. I'll talk to Sumner
to-morrow."

  Mary nodded. "Let me know what he says. Where is
Artemus Ward's latest effusion? I'll read you to sleep."

  "No, save yourself for later, when the hard times come. I'll
drowse off nicely. Good night, dearest Mary."

  He lifted her in his great arms for a moment, then tucked
her in as tenderly as he had Tad, took up his candle and
went to bed.

CHAPTER V

            BREAD FOR ANDERSON

HARLES SUMNER appeared in Lincoln's office, the next day,
to consult with him concerning the appointment of Charles
Francis ~ Adams as ambassador to England. The matter of
Miss Ford had slipped from the President's mind, but
Sumner, as the conference ended, paused with one huge,
white hand on the door knob, and said:

  "Miss Ford tells me that she hopes I will recommend her
as a fourth secretary to the White House, Mr. President."

  "Jingsl I'd forgotten the ladyl" exclaimed Lincoln. "What's
she like, Senator? Anything back of this sudden spasm of
helpfulness she evidences?"

  "Indeed, I'm sure notl" Sumner's voice was a little
indignant. "I've known her for years. She is altogether a
charming and cultured lady, that is, as culture is rated in
this country. Her father has met with heavy losses, and it's
understood that she is financially much embarrassed. It must
have taken an exceedingly great effort of will, to bring her
petitioning to you. For not only is she a Virginian, but also
she is a slave owner."

  "What would be said if my wife employed a person of her
political persuasions?" asked Lincoln.

  "All Southerners would be pleased. Politically, I'd say that
a more adroit motion could not be made." Sumner nodded
sagaciously.

  "Then I reckon I'll give Mary her head on the matter,"
Lincoln's voice expressed relief, "and forget it myself."

  He was vaguely conscious, a week later, that Miss Ford's
trunks were moved into the room next to that occupied by
the little boys. But he was so irregular in his attendance at
meals, his one opportunity to meet family guests, that it was
a long time before the Virginian actually rose on his
horizon.

  By nature a man of most careless and casual habits, he
was finding it exceedingly difficult to systematize his work,
so that chaos should not completely hamper his efforts.

  He managed after a few weeks to direct the great bulk of
the office seekers to the various departments, but this
seemed only to give greater opportunity to the
self-appointed saviors of the nation, who thronged the White
House and the Capitol, and all of the saloons and hotels of
Washington.

  As if to off-set the overactivity of those officious persons,
there was every day more apparent an extraordinary inertia
on the part of those who Lincoln had hoped would act most
quickly. Old General Scott was dilatory in carrying out his
orders. Seward ignored his suggestions. He even

4oFOREVER FREE

went so far as to hint, in a written memorandum, that
Lincoln turn the reins of government over to the Secretary
of State.

 The President took all these manifestations of contempt
for his ability with outward calm. Actually, he was deeply
perturbed, but his unparalleled capacity for self-control
enabled him to keep from making a move until he
understood the natures of the men about him. His sense of
proportion was rarely at fault. The point in Seward's insolent
memorandum that really troubled him was not its insolence,
but the fact that Seward showed a lack of common sense,
when he suggested that the best way to prevent war breaking
out in America was for America to find some pretext to
declare war on Spain, France and England, in turn. A
foreign war, declared the Secretary of State, would unite the
North and South against a common enemy.

 He squelched Seward's wild aspirations easily enough, in
a return memorandum, then stood by the window of his
office, looking, in a troubled way, at his family below. Young
April was flushing over the White House garden. Mary was
talking to the gardener. Tad and Willie were racing their
hound dogs. Miss Ford was walking slowly along the paths,
reading a letter. As the President looked out on the pleasant
scene, a large man in riding clothes appeared in the garden.
He bowed over Mary's hand, then over Miss Ford's.

 "That's William Russell," murmured Lincoln. He suddenly
leaned from the window. "Hey, Russell! come up here a
moment, will you?" he called.

 The Englishman looked up, bowed and started for the
house. A moment later he entered the office..

 "You're very scarce with your society as far as I'm
concerned, Russell," exclaimed the President, crossing the
room to greet him, and feeling again the sense of liking and
admiration for the dark-faced war correspondent. "I hear
you're going to make a trip South, and up the Mississippi
valley."

 "Yes, Mr. President. Miss Ford has been giving me a letter
to friends in Alabama."

 "I suppose she knows the best kind of folks," nodded
Lincoln. "It doesn't take you long to get acquainted, does its
Miss Ford, for instance!"

 Russell, a tall man, himself, looked up at Lincoln with a
questioning expression, then looked out the window and
back again before he replied:

 "I did not meet her in the White House, Your Excellency,
although I believe she is by way of being one of the White
House under-secretaries. I met her, last night, at a dinner a
Mrs. Greenhow was giving to the three commissioners sent
here, I believe, by Mr. Jefferson Davis. When I learned that
Miss Ford was an intimate friend of Mr. Davis', I asked her
to give me a card of introduction to him."

 "And I wonder what Charles Sumner would say to thatl"
exclaimed Lincoln. "Oh, well, why shouldn't she know him!
And what if she does! She's not my secretary, Russell. She
makes social war dances for my wife. What I called you up
here for was to ask you what you think of Charles

BREAD FOR ANDERSON 41

Francis Adams as our Minister for St. James. I suppose
you've met him, too, by now7"

  "Yes, Mr. President, I've had the pleasure of dining with
him a number of times."

  "Goodl Draw up here by the window and give me your idea
of what England would like to get from us in the shape of an
ambassador. Jings, tall as you are, Russell, I can rub my nose
on the top of your head." He was leading the Englishman by
the arm toward an arm chair, as he spoke.

  "I've been in certain wild parts of this globe, sir, where, if
I'd had your inches, the natives would have made a god of
me," smiled Russell. "If ever you grow dissatisfied with a mere
presidency, I'll give you the address of my savage friends."

  Lincoln laughed, and the conference was begun with the
utmost good feeling on both sides. It ended abruptly, an hour
later, when Tad rushed, shrieking, into the office. He would
not stay to be comforted, and Lincoln looked after him
uneasily, as the child fled through the private passage to the
sitting room.

"I wonder if he's really hurt," he exclaimed.

  Russell got to his feet. "Shall I go after him, Mr. President,
or call his governess7"

  "Our talk is over, I reckon," said Lincoln, whose heart was
always torn when Taddie wept, "so I'll go, myself. Let me see
you again before you start South," and he hurried into the
sitting room.

  Tad was not there, but his shrieks led the President on into
his own bedroom. Tad had flung himself on his father's bed.
Lincoln stooped over him.

  "Get offl Away off, Papa dayl" shrieked Tad. "I hate youl I
hate Williel Most of all I hate Miss Fo'dl"

  "Come over here and tell me all about it," said his father,
seating himself in his favorite chair by the window.

"Nol Nol Nol" screamed the child.

  The door from the hall opened and admitted Willie. He
wore his best clothes, a dark green velvet round-about and
long trousers of the same shade of broadcloth A wide, white
collar with a flowing green tie gave the final touch of festivity
to his costume. The boy looked scornfully at his brother, and
appealingly at his father.

  "Something's got to be done about Taddie," he announced.
aHe says nobody can marry Miss Ford but him, then
he Hey, shut up that racket, Tad, so's I can tell Papa dayl"

  Tad suddenly sat erect, face sodden with tears. He, too, was
dressed for a party. His was a wine-colored velvet suit, the
coat edged about with silk braided scallops, a lace collar
finishing the neck.

  Immensely interested and edified, the President looked
from one boy to the other.

"You tell it the way it was then," sobbed Tad.

"Don't I always7" drawled Willie. "Well, Papa, Tad can
believe what

42 FOREVER FREE

ever he wants to about who is going to marry Miss Ford. I
think myself that if I don't, John Hay will. But Tad oughtn't
to get mad at one of mother's parties about it, so's
everybody says the Lincolns don't know how to bring up
children. Seems to me they're saying enough stuff, without
Tad's handing 'em something more."

"Well, I asked he'," Tad wiped his eyes on his sleeve, "and "

 "Wait a moment, boys. Willie, run in and get me a needle
full of black linen thread out of your mother's basket. I
pulled a suspender button off my new suit last night, and I
forgot to tell Mamma. I'll sew it on while you fellows talk."

 Willie flew on his errand, and Tad continued to sob, but
softly now, and with constant repetitions of his last
statement, "I asked he' - "

 There was no coaxing him in one of his tantrums, so his
father took his best trousers out of the wardrobe, put on his
spectacles and, as Willie returned with the needle, seated
himself, saying:

"Get on with the story before I'm interrupted, Willie."

 "Well " the older boy began, feet apart, head thrust
forward in amusing imitation of his father's habitual
position, as Lincoln observed with a chuckle, "well, mother
was having tea in the Blue Room, and Mr. Mercier was
there, and Miss Ford and two or three other ladies, like Mrs.
Welles, and some of the Cabinet wives that don't amount to
much."

"Who said that last?" interrupted Lincoln.

 "I heard Miss Ford tell mother. And John Hay came in
from some errand he'd been on, and asked for a cup of tea,
and Mr. Sumner was there, and he'd been talking French
with mother, and he said she spoke it wonderfully, and she
said she'd been obliged to speak nothing else in the school
where she went for four years, and I thought to myself, if
everybody only knew how much mother did know it might
make 'em ashamed, and just then Tad had to make a fool of
himself."

"Tell what you dial Tell what you dial" shrieked Tad.

 "Well, John Hay had been standing and talking to Miss
Ford, holding a cup in one hand, with his little finger stuck
out, like this, and his mouth all minced up polite, like this .
. ." Lincoln gave a sudden shout of laughter, as he
recognizedJohn at his social best.

 Willie gave his father an indignant look. The President
became abnormally serious, and thrust his needle vigorously
through the broadcloth. Willie proceeded.

 "I'm not trying to be funny, I'm just telling you. Well, Miss
Ford was looking up into John's face, like this." A lady, eyes
rolled adoringly, was suggested. Lincoln choked, but said
nothing. "Now you know, Papa day, Miss Ford is us boys'
friend first. She gave us the pups. She didn't give John Hay
anything. And I know him, how all the girls out in
Springfield got crazy about him, and I decided I'd interfere.
So I went out in the hall, like some one had beckoned, and
came back and told John you wanted him. And he went.
And before I could move, Tad, he climbs into Miss Ford's
lap and jams her crinoline thing, and I just gave him a little

BREAD FOR ANDERSON 43

pull, like that, and he goes crazy right off and yells that I'm
a dirty skunk, and Miss Ford's his girl. And he knocked her
tea cup over."

"You knocked it you'self, di'ty skunk," shouted Tad.

 "I did notl And everybody looked shocked, and mother put
us right out."

"Then what happened?" asked Lincoln.

 "Well, I suppose you heard Tad come roaring up here. I
walked a piece with Mr. Mercier, just to show I didn't care."

"And was Miss Ford burned with the tea?"

 "Not to hurt. She passed Mr. Mercier and me in the hall,
she and Mr. Sumner, and she smiled at us. I can make a bow
just like Mr. Mercier's." An imaginary hat pressed against his
heart, Willie made a profound obeisance.

 "I like the way Mr. Sumner does it best," exclaimed Tad,
jumping from the bed, lifting his father's high hat from the
table to his head, then sweeping it through the air, and
holding it at arm's length, before returning it to eclipse his
flushed little face.

 "This is the way Chevalier what-you-may-call-him, the
Italian Minister, does it," proclaimed Willie, taking the hat.

 Lincoln watched them from smiling, reminiscent eyes, eyes
that saw a shadowy figure behind the little velvet-clad
bodies the figure of a boy in battered jeans, barefoot,
destitute of the necessities of life. It was but a fleeting
shadow, however, for the never long absent tap sounded on
the door, and John Hay came in.

"I wanted a moment alone with you, sir," he said soberly.

 "I suppose to announce your impending marriage." Lincoln
spoke seriously.

John gasped. "God forbidl What do you mean, sire"

 "You've almost broken Tad's heart, coming between him
and Miss Ford," replied Lincoln. "And it's not a laughing
matter," he added hastily.

 "I see," gulped John, looking from one boy to the other.
"They both admit her charm. Why shouldn't I respond to it
as well as they?"

"I asked he' fi'st," cried Tad.

 "You may have her," declared John, "with one stipulation.
If I promise not to become engaged to her, may I talk to her
when she talks to me? She knows a great deal about
Southern politics."

"Yes, you may do that," agreed Willie, with a generous air.

 "What business you got saying that?" demanded Tad,
belligerently, then turned to John. "Be polite to he', John, and
I'll be satisfied with you' p'omise."

 "That being settled, boys, scuttle to your room and get
hands washed for supper," ordered their father, and for once
they obeyed without protest.

 The two men smiled at each other, then young Hay said,
"Mr. Lincoln, what attitude are we to take toward the
newspaper men? I mean those who we know are deliberately
circulating lies about you? Don't we issue any contradictions
at all?"

44 FOREVER FREE

 "Not unless I tell you to," replied the President. "I suppose
something extra ornery has come upl Greeley calling names
as usual7"

"Nothing so simple as thatl"

 "Chicago papers say I was drunk at my own table last
night? They've said that so many times, I'd almost believe it
myself if I read all the reports."

 Young Hay shook his good-looking black head. "It's not
the published lie that's hard to scotch I There's a
newspaper man from New York, one of the hail-fellow,
well-met type who claims to be rather an intimate of yours.
You've never met him, and if I have my way you never shall.
His special claim to fame is that you tell him your obscene
stories."

"My what?" exclaimed the President.

 John Hay flushed but went on steadily. "Nothing is more
current in the country than the idea that you have a choice
collection of dirty jokes that you spring on all occasions. This
reporter has told a number that he claims you whispered in
his ear. To-day, one reached Nicolay and me a joke you
are said to have perpetrated on a member of the Cabinet.
It's so indecent that I can't repeat it. But it will make you
infinite trouble when it reaches that Cabinet member's ear.
I want you to authorize me to go to that reporter and flay
him alive."

 Lincoln looked at the excited young face with real
affection. "John, you and George both know I don't tell
obscene stories. And I know it. Before long, the Cabinet will
recognize that fact. That's enough."

 "I realize you can't authorize anything like that," blazed
John, "but now you know, and I warn you that if I hear that
beast repeating any of his filth, I shall knock him down."

 "You can't knock him down, John. You aren't in a position
to waste time scratching flea bites, when a cyclone is about
to strike the house but your loyalty warms my dried old
heart. John, this man Russell what do you think of him?"

 "He knows more about war than any one in this country.
He doesn't get on well with American reporters, because the
London Times wants facts, and our papers want scare heads.
He's insulted a lot of distinguished politicians, because he
won't let them spit tobacco juice on the floor of his room,
like they do on the White House floors. He's a remarkably
fair and keen observer. I tell you, sir, I hope to write one
day, and I'd like to learn my trade from him. I'm dropping
in on him all I can."

 "That's right. Keep in touch with him. And this Miss Ford.
What does she want?"

 John flushed ever so slightly. "Nothing, I think, sir, except
a little social excitement."

 "Huml" murmured Lincoln. "What's that book sticking out
of your pocket, John?"

 "Walt Whitman's 'Leaves of Grass.' Oliver Wendell
Holmes says there's all kinds of leaves in it except fig leaves,
but I don't see anything in it to shock anybody. Care to take
a look at it?"

BREAD FOR ANDERSON 45

  "I know pages of it by heart," said the President, rising to
pull off his coat and vest. "There was a copy around the
office at Springfield. That fellow Whitman isn't a poet, but
he's the prophet of democracy. He's helped me a good deal
when I've got bilious wondering if any government which is
not too strong for the liberties of the people can be strong
enough to maintain itself."

  He sat down on the edge of the bed and removed his
boots, displaying the grey wool socks he wore without regard
to season or place. Slowly, his fine, wistful eyes on John's
eager face, he removed his snuff-colored trousers, and began
to draw on the black broadcloth.

  "That's the eternal problem of America," he went on. "The
Fathers thought they'd solved it in the Constitution. Whitman
thinks what he calls 'the indissoluble love of comrades' is
inherent in democracy, and will give it eternal life." He pulled
his suspenders over his shoulders and tested the strength of
the button he had sewed on.

  "And does Whitman's answer satisfy you, Mr. Lincoln7"
asked young Hay.

  "One side of me," replied the President. "He's a man, is
Whitman. I'd like to know him.... Wish you'd go out and buy
me some white gloves, John. I can't remember where I put
my last pair. That is, if you can spare the time. Going out to
suppers"

  "I've plenty of time," replied John. "I'm dining late at M.
Mercier's, with Russell, Lord Lyons, and lesser lights. M.
Mercier threatens to call on me for a toast to Russell."

  "Goodl That portion of the show won't be dry, I knowl"
The President, donning a fresh collar, smiled at the young
man.

  John paused with his hand on the door knob. "Hay that is
green, sir, can never be dry," he chuckled, and was gone.

CHAPTER VI

           THE QUALITY OF MERCY

  HIS night of April first, the initial State dinner took
place. It was a | tedious affair, followed by an informal
session of the Cabinet,

  ~ during which Lincoln tried to beguile the members into
agreeing on some policy toward the relief of Fort Sumter.

  While the prolonged wrangling that followed the
President's first suggestions was going on, a quite different
type of conference on the same subject was in progress in a
not far distant part of Washington.

  Miss Ford's house was boarded up as to windows, and
linen draped as to furniture. None the less, a fire crackled in
the back parlor grate, and Miss Ford herself sat in its blaze,
talking with Justice Campbell.

  At the moment Lincoln was making his first gently
expressed pronouncement on the urgency of this Sumter
problem, Miss Ford was saying to the Justice:

  "I have seen almost nothing of the President, so far, Judge,
but I have access as I wish to his papers. I never saw so
careless a man in my life. He trusts every one. He's reading
a book on military science-Halleck's, I think, whoever that
may be. He left it Iying in the sitting room to-night, with
these two papers in it as markers. I borrowed them for the
evening."

  She passed to Campbell Seward's memorandum and a
copy of Lincoln's reply. The justice read them with avidity.
He returned Seward's proposals with the remark, "The man's
a cheap jingoist." Lincoln's answer he studied for several
moments, before laying it on his knee, and looking up to say
slowly to the Virginian:

  "Whoever wrote this has produced a state document that
no ruler ever excelled in astuteness. If Lincoln wrote it, the
whole Secession party is acting on a wrong theory."

  "Lincoln wrote it," said Miss Ford. "I heard Nicolay tell
John Hay that 'the old man has written a scorcher to
Seward. Wouldn't let me make a suggestion "'

  Campbell stared anxiously at the fire, then asked, '~What
about Mrs. Lincoln?"

  "I am under the impression that she has a profound
influence on her husband, but, frankly, I've seen so little of
them together, and Mrs. Lincoin is for the moment so
engrossed in planning how to cope with the female dragons
of Washington, that I can't give you concrete evidence. By
the way, isn't the Fort Sumter situation getting rather out of
hand with Mr. Davis? Can't he control the Charleston crowd
until you and the other commissioners have had your full
opportunity? I believe that you under

THE QUALITY OF MERCY 47

estimate the importance of the taking of Sumter on the
attitude of the administration."

 "Horace Greeley said yesterday, in an editorial, to let the
South go. That he, for one, refused to live in a nation pinned
together with bayonets," was Campbell's reply.

 "But Greeley is an enemy to Lincoln's crowd," protested
Miss Ford. "Read those notes on the back of Seward's
memorandum. They are in Lincoln's handwriting."

 The justice hastily turned the sheet indicated. Written in
the President's cramped hand were several terse statements.

 "Fort Sumter: Lamon and Hurlbut report no Union feeling
in Charleston.

 "Captain Fox's plan much simpler than Scott's for
provisioning the fort. General Scott admits Fox navy plan of
attack might be successful.

 "The Secessionists need war to whip up general Southern
enthusiasm for secession.

 "If we give up Sumter, it will be to admit to the world that
the Republic has fallen apart, that humanity's greatest
experiment in democracy is a failure.

 "If we move on Sumter, the war party, heading up in
Charleston, will use the first move as an excuse for war.

"The Cabinet is divided, the decision rests with me."

 Justice Campbell jumped to his feet and shook the paper
before Miss Ford's intelligent eyes. "I've told them sol I've
warned my colleagues, I've warned President Davis, that
Pickens and his crowd would rush us into wart"

 Miss Ford looked calmly up into his agitated face. "Why do
you take it for granted that Lincoln will order Captain Fox to
move7"

"Don't you think that he will7" demanded Campbell.

  "No, I don't. We've probably underestimated his
intelligence, but of his sentimental softness there can be no
doubt. He can't say 'No' to an office seeker. His secants
impose on him shamefully. His children tyrannize over him.
He is utter mush in his Cabinet. He, as you see, takes an
insult from Seward as most men would take a compliment."

  "You say you've had no contacts with him in these two
weeks. What have you been doing with your opportunities7"
cried the justice, fretfully.

  The Virginian drew herself up. "Sir, I have given you
invaluable information, this evening. I dislike my work,
exceedingly. I resign from this moment."

  Campbell threw up his hands. "Oh, my dear Miss Ford, do
permit me the luxury of relieving my frayed nenes by
scolding! Surely that should not be too great a strain on our
friendship. I am truly sorry. Will you not forgive me7 You
are not the only one doing distasteful work."

  Instantly mollified, the Virginian rose to put her hand on
the justice's arm. "I'm sorry tool My hasty temper hasn't
improved in the fortnight. I've made copies of those papers,
Judge. I'll leave the copies with you. I

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must return these with all speed. You can get the copies to
President Davis at once? Tom Taylor hasn't returned from
his trip to Montgomery."

  "I'II take charge of them, Miss Ford," replied the justice,
buttoning the papers into an inside pocket. "Now then, how
can we sound out Lincoln? How can we make sure that that
decision will be moving in our direction?"

  Miss Ford looked thoughtfully at her finger nails. "Can't
we give him some alleged secret information to the effect
that Davis, if given a certain amount of time, can get control
of the Charleston crowds"

  "Yesl Yesl But can we get any sort of guarantee from
Governor Pickens and Beauregard, there in Charleston, that
they will wait for Lincoln to make the first move?" cried
Campbell.

  "It's your business, isn't it, to reassure Lincoln first and get
the guarantee from Pickens, afterward?" asked the Virginian.

  "I'll reach Lincoln, as I have before, through Seward. He's
very easy to handlel" mused the justice. "Then I'll go to
Charleston, myself. In the meantime, go to Lincoln, Miss
Ford, to-morrow, and give him an inkling."

  Miss Ford shook her head as she handed her mantua to
the justice. "I must not rouse his suspicions. Or, if not his,
those of his secretaries. They are decidedly on the qui dive,
those lads. You see Seward early in the morning."

  "Yesl Yesl" adjusting the mantua over the Virginian's
beautiful shoulders. "You are quite safe to return to the
White House by yourself?"

  "Quite!" replied Miss Ford, somewhat dryly, as she bowed
to Campbell, and removed her enormous yardage of skirts
from the room with the deliberate grace habitual to her.

  She took a closed carriage to the main entrance of the
Executive Mansion, then undulated up the curving driveway
to the portico. She arrived a few moments after the Cabinet
members had dispersed. Old Daniel, who already was
devoted to her, she was that rare bird, a perfect lady, he
said, asked her if she had had a pleasant evening. Young
Stoddard, meeting her on the staircase, begged for a flower
from the wreath of roses in her hair, and told her that the
family, including Hay and Nicolay, had gone to bed.

  She fastened the rose in the boy's buttonhole, and
traversed the deserted upper half with silent tread. Mrs.
Lincoln's door was closed. That of the President was slightly
ajar. She could hear him pacing the length of the room.
Then she heard Mrs. Lincoln's voice.

  "Aren't you going to bed, Abratm? Here's the last
Petroleum Nasby? Shall I read to you?"

  "No, darling Mary. I'm going to climb into bed at once,
and let friend Halleck on the Military Art and Science
drowse me to sleep. Good night to you."

  A short silence, then the click of the door into Mrs.
Lincoln's room. Miss Ford took an irresolute step nearer to
the gleaming crack. She caught

THE QUALITY OF MERCY 49

a glimpse of the President in his nightshirt, and, turning
quickly, she hastened into the sitting room, then into her own
quarters.

  Lincoln picked up the copy of Halleck, turned toward the
bed, hesitated, then stood long in thought, going over in his
mind the fruitless bickering of the Cabinet session just passed.
It was ghastly to think of the uncertainty that ruled these
men, when certainty was so essential to save the country. He
fluttered the pages of the book in his hand where he
remembered leaving his notes on Fort Sumter. They were not
there. Perhaps one of the boys had taken them. Perhaps
they'd dropped out on the sitting-room table.

  He drew on his faded dressing gown, thrust his feet into his
slippers, and made his way to the deserted room, still warm
with firelight that showed him his papers, Iying on the floor
beside the huge center table. He shook his head over his own
carelessness and with remarkable quietness returned to his
bedroom.

  He held the notes on the back of Seward's memorandum
close to the candle to review them, then dropped them and
began to pace the floor.

  The decision more certainly than ever, after to-night's
session with Chase, Seward, Welles, and the rest of the
oak-table crowd, was his to make. Very well, before he slept,
he would make it.

  Up and down, he paced, up and down. His own body, the
objects in the candle- and fire-lighted room, the starlit views
from his windows, receded from his consciousness. He was
alone in a universe of the spirit.

  Mary came in at about two o'clock. She stood in silence by
the window a long half hour. Lincoln did not see or hear her
until she put her arm through his, and with eyes that told of
her consuming anxiety, pressed her palm against his cheek,
and forced him to look down at her.

"It is Sumter. It is war or dissolution," she said in a low voice.

  "Yesl" replied Lincoln. "That's what slavery has brought the
nation to; yet North and South tell me not to touch slavery."

"The North would not fight to set the slaves free," said Mary
quickly.

  "Not yet," agreed the President. "People don't understand
yet." He resumed his slow pacing.

  "Curiously," said Mary, keeping step with him, "if this were
a decision concerning one of the children, or one of your
clients or friends, I'd know your answer would be on the soft
and easy side. But in this, which does not concern your
affections, I know that your conclusion will be made with the
ruthlessness that's the reverse side of your sweetness and
patience."

  Lincoln looked down at her. Her understanding seemed at
the moment the one solid rock in the void where his spirit
was wandering. He kissed her with lingering tenderness.

"Go to bed and rest, my darling Mary," he said.

"But I cannot sleep, Abra'm,'' humbly.

"You'll be resting and I must husk this out with my own
hands."

  Without another word, she left him, and he continued his
solitary march. Bit by bit, he was placing his facts in their
logical sequence. Not

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only contemporary and local facts, but world facts. He could
see Europe gloating over the failure of the Union, and
watching for an excuse to rush in and despoil the
combatants.

 If he relieved Sumter, war would come. Call it a war to
save the Union. Aye, it would be a war for that purpose.
But, basically, it would be a war caused by human slavery,
and it was unthinkable that the Union and slavery should be
saved together, that endless blood be shed, the war won, the
South whipped back into the Union, with the viper still
hanging to her breast.

This must not be.

  If war came, it must come because the time had arrived
when humanity must make another great stride in the
struggle for freedom. The Magna Charta had guaranteed the
freedom of those already free. Had the time come when a
war could be fought in order to guarantee freedom to the
bondman7

  Up and down, up and down, mile after mile paced off
over the shabby carpet. Could he make the awful
resolve the death-dealing, agonybringing decision, and
could he hold the decision thus made through months and
years of carnage? Could he, in the name of freedom, de-
liberately turn America into hell on earthy

  Solitary, foreordained, he wandered in profundity of
thought that took no cognizance of time.

  At dawn he paused, shivered, deadly pale. He glanced
unseeingly around the room, realized with surprise that a
new day had come, then crossed to his table where there
were writing materials. He wrote a telegram and rang his
bell. After a long wait, old Daniel appeared, blinking and
startled. Lincoln gave him the message and asked for some
coffee. Then he began to dress for the day's work.

  The telegram bade Captain Fox proceed to the relief of Fort
Sumter not later than the 6th of April.

                 CHAPTER VII
                 FORT SUMTER

HILE Lincoln was at breakfast that morning, Seward
rushed

\/ V into the dining room, his vest unbuttoned, his tie flying.

 ~ ~ "Mr. President," he panted, "news of unprecedented
importance has just reached me. You must give me a private
conference immediately."

 "Must be unprecedented, Seward," said Lincoln, dryly, "if
you want advice from me on it."

 Seward flushed, started to speak, then, as if conscious for
the first time of Mrs. Lincoln, Miss Ford, and the two little
boys, he greeted them, before saying to the President,

 "I'm afraid I deserve that, sir. I received your reply to my
memorandum, yesterday. After a night spent in pondering on
its contents, I wish to say that I bow to the superior view."

 Lincoln eyed the Secretary of State closely. No one knew
how much it would mean to him if Seward would give over
his dreams of leadership, and subordinate himself to his
proper position. He rose from the table, took the smaller
man by the arm, and led him into the State dining room.

 "Here's the only private spot I can think of on the spur of
the moment, Seward. What's on your mind?"

 Seward hesitated for a moment. He moved away from
Lincoln, in order to look up into the President's weary grey
eyes. Suddenly Seward's face twitched. "Mr. Lincoln, as to my
memorandum I have underestimated your abilities. Will you
accept my apology?"

 Lincoln grasped the ex-Governor's hand, dropped it, and
seized the frail little man in a great bear hug. "And now, by
jings, let it rainl" he cried. "Our umbrella is raised!"

 Seward tried to laugh, but was too much moved. "Your
decision was right, Mr. President," he said, tremulously.

 "Well," chuckled Lincoln, still holding Seward before him,
"I hope I'm as right as Pat was. I was tramping to court when
I was a young lawyer, too poor for a rig, when the judge
came along in a closed carriage, and invited me to ride. I was
mighty glad to climb aboard. But my happiness didn't last
long. The judge's driver was sending the carriage from one
side of the road to the other without aim or reason, and
every moment seemed like we'd turn turtle. The judge was
reading papers, not seeming to notice what was happening, so
I said nothing until we careened over a log, and I cracked my
head on the carriage top. Then T kicked. The judge grunted
and put his head out the window, and roared at the driver,

"'You scoundrel! You're drunk this morning!'

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 "Pat turned round to look at the judge. 'Be gorra, your
Honor,'he said, 'and that's the first rightful decision ye've
handed down for a year."'

 Lincoln burst into a great roar of laughter, and, a little
hysterically, Seward joined him. But after a moment of this,
the President pulled himself up, abruptly.

"What was the unprecedented news, Seward?"

 The Secretary of State sobered instantly. "I was waited on
before my breakfast this morning by Justice Campbell of
Alabama. I have told you of him and his business in
Washington."

 "His alleged business " interpolated Lincoln. "Any federal
judge who will use his high office to cloak his political
intrigues has a streak of yellow in his hide."

 "At least," replied Seward, "he's sincere in his desire to
prevent war. Jefferson Davis has agreed to move the capital
of the Confederacy to Charleston, and to make Governor
Pickens Secretary of State, if he will give Davis and the
commissioners two more months in which to establish the
rebellion pacifically. He begs of us to hold Fox back until he,
Campbell, can get down to Charleston, and make his offer
to Pickens."

"How did he learn about Captain Fox?" asked Lincoln, in
dismay.

 "He says it's common talk," replied the exSovernor. "What
does that matter? You will give the necessary assurances to
Campbell, will you not, sir?"

 "Seward," replied the President, "I want to impress on you
that private intrigues will never get the United States out of
the trouble into which she's worked herself. I'll have nothing
to do with Campbell and his machinations. I don't trust him,
or any man of his ilk. My earnest advice to you is that you
refuse to meet these fellows who wear gum shoes."

 The godfather of the new Republican party bestowed on
Lincoln a glance of injured dignity that gave way
immediately to one of bewilderment.

"But what are we to do?"

 "We'll relieve Sumter," replied Lincoln. "I sent a telegram
to Fox at dawn, telling him to get going not later than the
6th of April."

 Seward fell back against the great hall table.
"You you you did that, sir?"

 "I did that, sir," replied the President grimly. "God help me
and this country."

 "But you can undo the message. It's not too later" eagerly,
from the Secretary of State.

 Lincoln stood for a moment, going back in his mind to his
soul-gripping ordeal of the night. He still was smiling grimly,
when he shook his head and repeated,

 "It is too late. You gather up the Cabinet about noon,
Governor, and I'll have it out with them and you too."

Seward went from the room, with his head bowed on his
breast. Lincoln

FORT SUMTER 53

would have gone directly to his office, but Mary caught him
on the stabs, and prevailed on him to return to his unfinished
breakfast.

 He had formulated no very clear idea of how to win his
Cabinet to support him in his decision. He followed, perhaps,
the only method that could have brought them into even a
half-hearted acquiescence. He made his statement, listened
for an hour to their protests and vituperations, and when they
had exhausted themselves, restated his unalterable purpose
and left the room.

 Taddie had come into the Cabinet room during the last of
the discussion. Much to the annoyance of the secretaries, he
began to tease his father for a dollar, but he did not gain
Lincoln's attention until the latter, white and spent, had made
his way to the sitting room. Then Lincoln gave the child the
money, and strode on to his bedroom. Tad ran to find his
brother, asking Miss Ford, whom he met in the hall, for
Willie's whereabouts.

 "I'll tell you where Willie is, if you'll tell me where your
father is," replied Miss Ford. "I have a message for him from
your mother."

 "You'd betta' not botha' Papa day," Tad shook his little
head wisely. "He wouldn't hea' you if you yelled at him. He
has one of his deaf spells on, that he gets when he has to do
something he don't like."

 "Mercy!" exclaimed Miss Ford. "I hope it's nothing he has
to do to you or Willie or mother or met"

 "It's notl I was in the Cabinet meeting with him. Papa day
has told some one to start with b'ead and meat to' Ande'son,
and they've been telling him he mustn't, and he says he
al'eady has. So don't you botha' him "

 "I won'tl" Miss Ford pretended to shudder, to the child's
great amusement. "Willie is in the garden," she said, and
turned into her room.

 The immediate events that followed the sending of the
telegram to Captain Fox were, in a sense, anti-climax to
Lincoln. In the vigils of his night of pacing, he had lived
through all the shocks, the passions, the agonies that the Civil
War could offer. He had foreseen, of course, that for a few
days he would be terribly alone in his singleness of purpose.
He was a good prophet.

 He was obliged to use the most urgent measures to force
General Scott into such active preparations for the impending
struggle as could be made without authority from Congress.
The treasury was bankrupt. There was no war feeling in the
North. Commercial interests were entirely hostile to any
action that would seem to coerce the seceding states; nothing
must interrupt cotton trading. During the days that followed
the sending of the telegram, Chase and Seward did not cease
to harp on these conditions.

 Lincoln remarked grimly that he believed patriotism was
dead in the North; then he deliberately turned a deaf ear to
their comments, and concentrated every effort of his mind on
getting the relief fleet started toward Charleston harbor.

Slow as he was in some aspects of his executive work,
General Scott

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surprised Lincoln by his activity in others. As soon as the
President apprised him of the orders he had given to Fox,
Scott organized an army Secret Service that began to
function immediately. The first fruits of this Service was an
intercepted telegram from Jefferson Davis to Justice
Campbell. The message stated that Campbell's information
regarding Captain Fox's orders having been received,
Beauregard had been ordered to demand the evacuation of
Fort Sumter by its commander, Major Anderson.

 Lincoln read the telegram on the evening of April 8th,
and again urged Fox to make all possible speed. But it was
too late to save the fort. On the lath of April, at 4:30 in the
morning, the stillness was broken by the sound of a mortar
shot from a Secession battery in Charleston harbor. The
shell rose high against the starlit heavens, curved gently in
its course, and burst over Fort Sumter.

               CHAPTER VIII
              ON TO RIcnMOND~

TT was on Sunday afternoon, April 14th, that word reached the
White I House that Anderson had evacuated Fort Sumter.
Lincoln had been "L enveigled into the garden by Mary, who
was deeply concerned over his long work hours. All day, the
White House had been thronged as though a public
reception were in progress. The Lincolns escaped into the
garden by passing through the basement kitchen.

Mary was scolding the President, when John Hay appeared
in the offing.

 "You'll break down, Abra'm. I talked to Dr. Stone about
you yesterday. He's certain that you have a consumptive
tendency. He says that I must force you to eat and sleep
properly."

 Lincoln laughed. "I reckon Dr. Stone is barking up the
wrong tree, this time. Why, Mary, my whole backwoods life
has been preparing me for just such strains as this. It will
take something more than the siege of Sumter to break
down these muscles. LookI"

 He slipped his great hands under her arms and swung her
into the air as he would swing Taddie. Mary shrieked, and
struggled to hold down the great sails of her skirts.

 "There's John Hay! Quick, Abra'm! Oh, you are
disgusting! This is not 8 husking bee on the Sangamonl"

 Lincoln set her down calmly, and turned to his secretary.
"News from Sumter, John7"

"Yes, sir," handing the President a memorandum from
General Scott.

 Lincoln read it, but without the sinking of the heart which
he had anticipated. He was fully prepared for the giving up
of the fort.

 "The next thing is to issue the call to arms we worked out
this morning, John," he said. "We'll get right at it."

Mary turned white. "War! Is that what it means, Abratm?"

 He nodded and started toward the house, which he
entered again by way of the basement.

 Mary remained standing by a rose bush, trembling a little,
and she was still standing there when, five minutes later,
Miss Ford in a pale green moire antique came quickly down
the path.

"Fort Sumter has fallen, Mrs. Lincoln!" she exclaimed.

"Yesl My poor husbandI" ejaculated Mary

 "Do you think it means war?" asked the Virginian, turning
to pick a tulip, which she tucked into her chestnut curls.

 "What else can it mean? Mr. Lincoln is not Mr. Buchanan,
content to sit as if paralyzed, while the South robs the
nation," cried Mary.

"He seemed so gentle," murmured Miss Ford.

56 FOREVER FREE

 "So he is, where his affections are concerned, or mere
personal interest," replied Mary. "But in his patriotism, he's
flint. That's where a great many people are
misunderstanding him."

 "But wart" drawled the other, trying the effect of another
tulip in the draperies of her skirt. "Does he realize that if he
brings on war, in three months' time he'll be taking you all
back to Illinois, while Jefferson Davis sits in the White
House?"

Mary's blue eyes flashed. "Don't talk nonsense, Miss Ford."

 "I reckon three months from now it won't seem nonsense,
unless you can use your influence on the President to hold
his hand, and refuse to declare war."

 "My influencer" Mary smiled. "You flatter me, my dear! I
can influence his manners, I can rouse his ambition, I can
sometimes make him change his opinions of people. But, in
twenty years, I have never been able to get him to revise a
moral decision, once made."

 There was silence for a moment. Mary looked up at the
white pile of the house. It had taken her many years to make
herself mistress of that beautiful roof tree. It seemed that
she was to rule in it only under the shadow of national
tragedy. She sighed, and the Virginian echoed the sound.

 "I was thinking, dear Madam President," she smiled
ruefully, "that all our beautiful and elaborately laid plans will
now go for nothing. You will be expected to give up all
formal entertaining if there is war. And that means that my
usefulness to you is ended. You see, I'm selfish, after all."

 "Nonsense!" cried Mary. "I'll need you more than everl If
these Southern women are nasty to me now, what will they
be if Mr. Lincoln uses soldiers to put down the Secessionists!
Certainly you can help me to make them see " She
suddenly paused, gave Miss Ford a keen look, and went on,
"I'm just remembering that you are a Virginian and a
slaveholder, and that you may feel that you cannot be loyal
to me and to Virginia, too."

 "I'm going to tell you quite cold bloodedly," said Miss
Ford, with a lowering of her voice to confidential notes, "that
all I want is my slaves. If no one takes them away from me,
they can have their old Union or their cunning little brand
new Confederacy or any other sort of idiotic political
arrangement these grown up boys like to play with."

 "Well, that is rather a cynical way to look at it." Mary's
tone held an edge of disapproval. "But after all how else can
an honest person look at slavery?" She was thoughtful for a
moment. She liked Miss Ford, and admired her. Even in the
scant three weeks she had known the Virginian she had
grown to depend on her. The previous week at least a dozen
members of the innermost Southern circle had attended her
teas women who if Miss Ford had not urged them, Mary
knew, would never have consented to meet the wife of the
Republican President.

 "Don't go, Miss Ford," she exclaimed, with her sudden,
charming smile. "I need your help and I need your
friendship."

A quick and unaccustomed flush touched the Virginian's
oval face to

"ON TO RICHMONDI" 57

exaggerated beauty. "Thank you, Madam President," she said.
"I'll try to give you both. But" hesitating "if I come to you
will you be able to give me frequent absences, without pay, of
course. That poor plantation of ours needs more than my
dear old father's attentions, now."

"Certainly, my dear, certainly," agreed Mary.

  Miss Ford did not return to the house a moment later,
when her employer did, but strolled slowly among the shrubs
and trees that bordered the south lawn. Taylor met her there,
just as the early spring dusk settled among the syringe bushes.

  "I've been waiting a long hour, Lady," he said, lifting her
fingers to his lips.

  "I'm sorry, Tom, but I've only now learned what we wished
to know. I am to stay on at the White House. The President
is issuing a call for militia. Mrs. Lincoln or no one else can
stop him. It's war, Tom. Pray God a short one."

  "It's bound to be, with a military fool like Scott, and a
backwoods orator like Lincoln attempting to meet
Beauregard and Davis," declared Taylor, squaring his fine
shoulders as he spoke. "Davis owes me a commission, I
reckon."

  "Don't be too sure that Lincoln is only a backwoods
politician," retorted Miss Ford. "Didn't Judge Campbell tell
you about his reply to Seward?"

  "Yes, he showed it to me. Astute, I'll admit, but legal
astuteness doesn't necessarily make an efficient
commander-in-chief of an army and navy. The folks in
Montgomery nearly burst with laughter, when any one men-
tions Lincoln in that capacity."

  "I don't much blame them." Miss Ford smiled as she spoke.
"Nevertheless, he's no fool, and Mrs. Lincoln says herself that
she can't influence him on matters of moral principle so I'm
about to undertake that job, myself!"

"Yout What are you up to now, Lady?" peering at her
through the dusk.

  "If I can win the confidence of Charles Sumner, of
Jefferson Davis, of William Seward, is there any reason why
Abraham Lincoln can hold out against me?" She gave him a
little green silk mantle which he adjusted over her shoulders.
"And having won his confidence, I shall give him mine, and
tell him to what men to give the job of running his absurd
little war for him."

Taylor did not speak for a moment.

"Don't you approve?" demanded the Virginian.

  "I'm going over in my mind the list of men who are proud
to call themselves your friends," replied Taylor. "I'm sorry for
Abraham! But it's hateful work, Lady."

  She tossed her head. "Oh, I laid my conscience away in rose
leaves when I undertook this job. As a matter of fact, I can't
see why it's worse to shoot a fellow citizen, as you plan to do,
than to spy on him and use him, as I plan to do."

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 Taylor sighed. "Perhaps you're right. But I always shall
hate it for you. When do you wish to see me again?"

 "In a week, unless something urgent happens. Then I'll
send Jinny to you. I must go in now, Tom."

 "Oh, Lady, what is the hurryl Let's stroll and talk of
something sweeter than war politics." He put a pleading
hand on her arm.

 She laughingly removed it. "I must go to watch my preyl
Moreover, that dreadful river damp is rising. Dr. Stone says
breathing that is what keeps typhoid going in Washington.
Good night, Tom dear." And she was gone.

 But, however concrete were her plans for becoming a close
friend to Lincoln, she was able to execute none of them that
night, or for many days and nights that followed. Quite
literally, until he dropped exhausted into bed, the President
never was alone. His call for 7s,ooo men for three months
to repossess the forts and places seized from the Union had
broken the lethargy that had paralyzed the North. The
country was roused to a fury of war enthusiasm as difficult
to control and direct as had been its inertia. For the first two
or three weeks after the fall of Fort Sumter, it seemed to
Lincoln that he could never bring order out of the chaos.
His days were frenzied, never free from the exhausting
pressure of interviews, of the demands for his authority to be
used in the thousand different matters he controlled as
President and as Commander-in-Chief.

 At this time Nicolay helped him more than any one else.
The secretary had all the orderliness of habit that Lincoln
lacked. Mary called her husband's attention to this several
times, and, finally, one hot May morning, when Lincoln
entered his office at seven in the morning to find it already
packed with important personages, he fled to Nicolay's
office.

"George," he pleaded, "I'm drowning! Can't you send me a
raft7"

 Nicolay looked up from the letters Stoddard was handing
him, with hurried resumes of their contents.

"What's the trouble, Mr. Lincoln7"

 "My room's so full of folks I can't reach my desk. Have I
got to see all of them7"

"You should not see any of them, sir. But "

 Lincoln interrupted, "I reckon I've been a fool. Shoo them
out for me, George. Fix it so I can scratch the back of my
neck without opening the window for space to do it in."

 "If you will permit Hay and Stoddard and myself to order
your day for you, sir," Nicolay spoke with earnestness based
on anxiety, "you will do better work for the country."

 "Do it, boy, do it!" urged the President, with the sense of
gratitude and relief he always experienced when Nicolay put
a shoulder under his burdens.

 His days went better after that, though he still found it
infinitely diffficult to deny himself to any one who wished to
see him. But he was realizing more clearly every hour, that
only by educating himself thoroughly in

"ON TO RICHMONDI" 59

the theory of war, could he hope to place men fit to carry on
the war, in places of responsibility. He could train himself
only in solitude and this knowledge, quite as much as
Nicolay's urging, helped him to tear himself away from his
visitors, and to remain, for long hours, in his room with his
war maps, his reports from the War and Navy departments,
and his books on the military art.

 He was at work thus, late one evening in May, seated
before a huge map of the United States, hung on the wall
opposite his head. On this map, with different coloredpins, he
had outlined General Scott's plan for the conduct of the war,
which Lincoln had dubbed the "Anaconda."

 It seemed to him that the General's basic theory was sound.
Scott's idea was to envelop the seceding states with a cordon
of military posts down the Ohio and the Mississippi, by a
blockade of all ports on the Atlantic and the Gulf of Mexico,
and by a military line, thrown from the Potomac to the Ohio.

 Sound, thought Lincoln, as far as the military end went. Its
weak side lay in the fact that it would take an enormous
amount of time to develop military leaders and armies fitted
to undertake the task. And time was exactly what the North
would not grant the administration. Across the Potomac, on
Arlington Heights, were encamped thirty thousand of the
"three months' men," under General McDowell. They were as
yet, with all the good will in the world, only what William
Russell said of them  an untrained, unequipped rabble.

 Yet Northern newspapers and politicians already were
urging Lincoln to send to take Richmond McDowell's host,
which they characterised as a Magnificent army of 1oo,ooo
men, fit to wipe the Rebels off the face of the earth."

 Horace Greeley led the pack shrilly, with the slogan "On to
Richmondl" and "On to Richmondl" echoed a million lesser
voices.

 It was of this slogan that Lincoln was thinking, shortly after
midnight, when Mary came in, candle in hand.

"Bedtime, dear," she said. "Shall I read to you?"

He did not hear her.

"Abratm, do answer met" she begged.

  It was not Mary's voice that reached his ears but Greeley's,
insistent as a gadfly's. "On to Richmondl" Where, he asked
himself, once more, was he to find a man who could make an
army out of a mob in a few weeks' timer How long could he
hold off the battle that Greeley and his fellow politicians were
forcing on him7

  "You ought to go to bed, Abra'mI" Mary raised her voice.
Her husband's capacity for concentration was undoubtedly a
great intellectual asset to himself, but it was decidedly trying,
at times, to other people. She pulled her wrapper more
closely about her, and stood hesitating. Then in a still louder
voice, she repeated, "You ought to go to bed, Abra'ml" and
with this, she suddenly turned off the gas, leaving only the
candle in her hand to light the room.

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  Lincoln, startled, raised his head. "That won't do, Mary. I
can't see the map clearly."

  "I don't mean you to," she retorted. "You must go to bed,
or you will be ill."

  The President sighed. If only he could make Mary
understand that his great strength was in little danger of
being impaired, that this was what he had to give to his
country, the strength acquired during his laborious youth.
He rose, and taking the candle from her hand, he lighted
the gas from its flame.

  "Go back to your bed, Mary dear. I've a hard nut to crack,
to-night." He sat down, and carefully removed a green
headed pin from Mobile to Cairo.

  His face was ghastly with weariness, and, as she observed
its deepened pallor, the fear that would not leave her,
clutched Mary's heart again.

  "I'm trying to keep you from galloping consumption!" she
cried, her voice rising hysterically, "and you sit as if it were
some childish mania of mine you were trying to thwart. You
shall go to bedl Go, I tell you, gol"

  She screamed the last words at him, at the same time
raising her hand again toward the gas jet. But before she
could carry out her purpose, the door into the hall, which
had been left ajar, was pushed open, and Miss Ford rushed
in.

"What's the matterl Shall I call the guard7"

  Mary turned on her, furiously. "What do you mean by
intruding in this room, Madam7"

  The Virginian wrapped the folds of her pale green
peignoir more closely about her tall figure. "I'm very sorry,
Mrs. Lincoln," she replied, frigidly. "I was reading in my
room, and when I heard you scream, I thought some one
was annoying you and the President, and that perhaps I
could call the guard to eject the intruder."

  "You remind me, Miss Ford," Lincoln's voice was urbane,
"that I've meant all day to talk to you. Come in and sit
down."

  "Mr. Lincolul" shrilled Mary. "Have you no sense at all7
It's one o'clock, and Miss Ford is in her night clothes."

  "Are those night clothes7" with a chuckle. "She's lots
better covered than you were at supper, to-night, Mary."

  "I can dress in a moment or two, sir," said Miss Ford
gently, "if Mrs. Lincoln doesn't mind waiting for me."

  "Please do wait until morning, Miss Ford," urged Mary,
less stridently, but none the less urgently.

  "Mary, you take that chair by my bed and tend to your
knitting for a moment." Lincoln spoke in a tone of
unmistakable authority and Mary obeyed him. He pushed
forward a cushioned ottoman for Miss Ford. "What I have
to say won't take long. I gather from what Charles Sumner
told me about you, Miss Ford, that you didn't secede when
the rest of Virginia did."

"No, Mr. President, I am pro-slavery, but I still belong to the
Union."

"ON TO RICHMONDI" 6r

 "Then, I take it, you're in sympathy with this movement of
the folks in the western part of Virginia around Wheeling, to
set up housekeeping for themselves as a separate State7"

"Oh, decidedly in sympathy," replied Miss Ford.

 Lincoln watched her. She looked extraordinarily intelligent,
but he wondered if Sumner, talking to him about her
discretion and high sense of honor, might not be mistaken.
Yet this was only a vague surmise, one of those unreasoning
intuitions he often got about men seldom, if ever, about
women. Perhaps he ought to have talked this over with Mary
before broaching it to Miss Ford. Mary was the one who
knew folks. But time pressed so unrelentingly!

 "I want you to do for me an errand that a tactful woman
can do better than a man," he said, "because she would be
less observed. Sumner says you have relatives at Wheeling."

 "Yes, Mr. President, a married brother," Miss Ford nodded,
"a Union slaveholder, like my father and me."

 "Good. Now, I have reason to believe that a very pretty
counter-revolution is being planned by the Secessionists up
around Wheeling. They're going to try to lick these western
Virginians into the Confederacy. I want to know just how
strong that movement is, and what chance it has for success.
Will you go up for a visit to your brother, and find out for
me7"

"Gladly!" exclaimed Miss Ford. "I'll start in the morning."

 "I'll be much obliged to you." The President rose as he
spoke. "You see Nicolay, and he'll get the money for you and
arrange for your pay. And I'll give you a letter to General
McClellan. He's a promising officer, heading up the Ohio
three months' men."

 "I know George McClellan, Mr. Lincolnt" exclaimed Miss
Ford. "As a West Point cadet, he used to visit our plantation."

 "Seward didn't exaggerate your wide acquaintanceship,"
smiled the President.

"You can spare me, can you not, Mrs. Lincoln7" asked Miss
Ford.

 "Why consult mel" exclaimed Mary, with a smile that did
not entirely counteract the bitterness in voice and eye.

 Lincoln turned to her apologetically, and Miss Ford made
her escape from the room.

 "You don't really mind me picking up whatever tool comes
to hand, Mary7 I hadn't time "

 His wife interrupted with an hysterical laugh. The strain of
the past two months had brought her to the breaking point,
and this appeared to be the proverbial last straw.

 "Mindl Mindl Who am I to mind7 A lay-figure called the
Mistress of the White Housel You don't condescend to speak
to me once in a week. You ignore my presence and now,
without bothering to consult me, you take my one companion,
the one person who "

 Lincoln took a step toward the door. "I'll recall the mission,
Mary. I'm so sorry you take it this way."

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 "Come backl" cried Mary, bursting into tears. "Do you
want her to think I'm jealous ? Can't you be anything but
dense in your conception of me and my needs?"

 For five minutes, she lashed him with all the fury of her
hysterical temper.

 Lincoln did not speak. Sometimes her hysteria wore itself
out, and ended in contrition as unreasoning as her temper.
But not to-night. He watched her, sadly, realizing as he
did so, that the hostility of Washington, the vile innuendoes
against her character that were finding their way into
newspapers were biting deeper into her sensitive soul than
he had thought.

 At last he crossed to her side, put his arm around her
shoulders, and placed his great hand gently over her mouth.
She struggled to free herself, but not until she had become
quite still did he release her. Then she fled with a sob to her
own room.

 Very slowly he placed Halleck back on the table near the
head of the bed, and prepared himself for rest. He lighted
the candle on the night stand, got into bed, and opened his
Bible. These outbursts of Mary's upset him.

 Lincoln read slowly through several of the Psalms, then
closed the book, and lay staring at the bedpost. He was
thinking, not about the war, not about slavery, or the friction
in his Cabinet. He was thinking about Mary. No one of all
the human beings that he knew, he told himself, had finer
possibilities than his wife, or less chance for happiness.

 All her generosity of spirit, all her brilliancy of mind, all
her managing ability, must be blocked continually by her
inability to control her tongue.

 He sighed deeply and closed his eyes. As he did so the
door from Mary's room opened, and his wife flung herself
on her knees by his bedside, and laid her forehead on his
hand.

"Oh, Abra'ml Abra'm! Forgive me, for I can't forgive
myself!"

He raised himself on his elbow and kissed the back of her
bowed head.

 "I'm not much good to you, wife," he said humbly. "There's
nothing for me to forgive. It's only yourself you harm. I was
just Iying here, thinking that, and how, if you repeat
to-night's tantrums in front of folks, all the Miss Fords in
the world can't help you to off-set the gossip."

 Mary raised her tear-stained face. She had been thinking
only of her relation to her husband. "What do I care about
that " she began impetuously.

 Lincoln touched her lip with a forefinger. "There it goes
again, that tongue you can't break to harness! You care
about it a whole lot, just as I care about it for you."

 Mary swallowed a great sob. "Yes, I care," she admitted,
"but it has no importance at all, in comparison with what I
care for your admiration. I want your love! Oh,
Abra'ml and little by little, I'm killing it."

 "Pshawl" exclaimed Lincoln. "You talk as if I didn't know
all about folks, and what to expect of 'em, even womenl" His
white teeth gleamed

"ON TO RICHMONDI" 63

for a moment, then he added, sadly, "Can't I help you,
somehow, to get a grip on yourself7"

 "You help me every day of your life by the example of your
patience." Mary clasped his great hand with both her own
and laid her cheek against it.

 The gesture was so like Taddie's in his moments of
remorse, she was so like a child, huddled in her pink wrapper
at the bedside, shivering from spent nerves, that her
husband's eyes filled with tears. With a sudden movement of
his powerful body he lifted hers and gathered her warmly in
his arms.

 "Poor girll" he murmured. "Poor Maryl I reckon they
couldn't have chosen two folks with stronger weaknesses than
you and me for this job! It'll take more than Miss Ford and
Seward to pull us through. Guess the Almighty will have to
keep us on His mind most of the time."

"I know He will your" whispered Mary, brokenly, "I don't
matter."

CHAPTER IX

           MASSE LINCUM S NIGGER

  HINKING the matter over, as she journeyed from
Washington to | Wheeling, Miss Ford decided that this
errand was devised in

 ~ Heaven to give her the much sought opportunity to win
the President's confidence. She believed herself to be only
one of several acquaintances that Lincoln was employing in
this same search for news. It was possible, she told herself,
that he was testing her, was planning bigger work for her,
and would have her watched while in Wheeling. It behooved
her, then, to act with complete honesty toward him, to
conduct herself, until the errand was completed, consistently
as a friend he was justified in trusting. She made a wry face
at herself as she realized that she had reached this
conclusion with a keen sense of satisfaction.

 "Either I'm not a born spy," she told herself as she
watched the beautiful Staunton turnpike corkscrew through
the hills ahead of the station wagon Uncle Ben was driving
for her, "or else I'm beginning to have a vague sympathy for
that misplaced, ugly rail-splitter."

 She was still complacent when she returned to Washington
a week later. She walked firmly past the protesting Billy
Stoddard into the President's office.

 Lincoln was deep in a conversation with William Russell
on England's frank partiality toward the Confederacy. He
was so keenly interested in the Englishman's explanation of
the British ideals of diplomacy that, for a moment, as the
tall woman in her flowing draperies appeared suddenly at his
desk, he wondered what she wanted of him. Then, with an
effort, he returned to his anxieties regarding western
Virginia, and jumping to his feet he exclaimed,

"Did you bring home the bacons"

 "I hope so," she replied, shaking hands first with the
President, then with the war correspondent.

 Russell excused himself at once, and Miss Ford, sinking
into his chair, untied the strings of her green bonnet, and
smiled at Lincoln. She then proceeded to give him a succinct
account of the Union organisation existing in most of the
counties Iying between the Allegheny and the Ohio rivers.
She showed him that Confederate recruiting officers were
making very little headway in these counties, while Union
recruiting was highly successful.

 "If," she ended, "you will order General McClellan, as the
Wheeling Unionists have asked you, to send armed
regiments of the Ohio militia up to Wheeling, the moral
effect of that move will undoubtedly crystalline the new
State into being."

MASSA LINCUM'S NIGGER 65

 "That's been my impression," commented Lincoln. "Your
report presents real evidence, which is what I lacked. I'm
greatly obliged to you, Miss Ford. Did you hear much about
McClellan up that way7"

 "He's on everybody's lips," replied Miss Ford. "He has a
remarkable personality. He's done little so far, yet you feel his
presence very keenly. I think he's going to be a great military
leader, Mr. Lincoln."

 "I hope he will bel" Lincoln's voice was hearty. His
judgment had not been at fault. Tested by other reports, the
Virginian had done an accurate job, and had talked with more
people than his three other investigators put together. He was
glad on two counts, first, to have fairly conclusively proved to
him that an important portion of Virginia could be saved to
the Union, second, that this woman for whom Mary and the
boys had such a liking was proving herself loyal, loyal and
intelligent enough, he thought, to be sent, a little later, to
Kentucky, to help beguile that wavering State into remaining
with the Union.

 "You've done a good job. I'm going to give you a bigger and
harder one, next time." He showed his white teeth in an
approving smile.

 "I'm so gladl What is its" exclaimed Miss Ford, leaning one
elbow on his desk, and returning his smile.

 "I can't tell you that in one sitting. You've got to be
educated piecemeal to it. You watch your chance, and when
you can, buttonhole me, look me in the eye, and say
'Kentucky' to me. I'll tell you all I can at that particular
moment."

 The Virginian laughed as she rose. "What funl I begin to
feel as important as I'm sure Secretary Seward does with all
his little mysteries."

 Lincoln drew a pile of letters toward him and began to sign
them. "I dare you to tell Seward that," he chuckled.

"I darer" she cried, as she left him.

  Had Lincoln not been absorbed most of the twenty-four
hours in looking for light to lead himself and the country
through the military chaos, the national bankruptcy, the
foreign and domestic insolences, that now submerged the
unhappy Union, he might have been struck by the number of
times a day he was exchanging a few moments of conversation
with the Virginian.

  When he thought of Kentucky, he was conscious of the fact
that one of his many plans for helping the Blue Grass State
was progressing well, but, outside of that, Miss Ford did not
actually catch his full attention again until the latter part of
June.

  One beautiful afternoon, at this time, accompanied by John
Hay and William Russell, the British war correspondent,
Lincoln descended the steps under the north portico to enter
his carriage. He was going to visit McDowell's camp across
the river.

  "John, you'll ride backward, being young and easy to impose
on, and I'll " The President stopped abruptly as he roused
from his concentration on his companions. Mary and Miss
Ford were seated in the barouche.

66 FOREVER FREE

 "We, too, wish to inspect the famous Army of the
Potomacl" exclaimed Mary, with a smile.

"Some one will have to stay at home," drawled Miss Ford.

 "I reckon it can't be any one of the masculine persuasion,"
returned Lincoln. "You ladies are very ornamental, but
Russell and Hay are useful on an expedition like this."

 "I can sit with the driver," suggested John Hay, with his
usual tact. "Mr. Russell's too big from every angle "

 Russell smiled. Lincoln's lips were a little grim. He didn't
want the women along, but neither did he want to risk a
temper fit on Mary's part. He stood with one foot on the
step, addressing himself to Miss Ford.

 "You know," he said, "I've got to take a look at
McDowell's troubles. And I can't do it riding backward, or
chatting with beautiful ladies. If you and my wife insist on
going, I'll have to ask you to allow Russell and me to use
the seat you're in now, and you'll have to be inconvenienced
by riding backward."

"Mr. Presidentl" protested Russell, "I'll get my horsel"

 "You'll do nothing of the sort. I need your ear and eye
close at hand," said the President.

 "My dear Mr. Lincoln," exclaimed Miss Ford, gracefully
moving to the opposite seat, and arranging the silk dust coat
that covered her crinoline, "so long as you don't send us
back to our rooms, as we should be sent, we're glad to sit
anywhere, even postilion fashion. We knew we risked that,
didn't we, Mrs. Lincoln?"

 Mary's eyes twinkled as she crowded her billowy skirts and
dust coat in beside the Virginian's. "He'd better be thankful
we didn't bring the boys."

"And the pupsl" added John Hay.

The President chuckled as he doubled his long body on the
rear seat.

 The carriage passed rapidly down the dusty road toward
Long Bridge, past the fields in which were piled the stones
for completing the Washington monument, past squalid
cottages beyond which lay a fine view of the richly wooded
Virginia shore, to the ancient wood and brick structure, part
causeway and part drawbridge which spanned the Potomac,
here a mile wide.

 A sentry sitting on a stump, at the bridgehead, his gun in
his lap, was reading a newspaper. He looked up as the
carriage halted.

"Where do you folks think you're goings" he demanded,
without rising.

 "Keep quiet, John," said the President, as he saw his young
secretary's profile turn purple. "I'm Mr. Lincoln," turning to
the sentry. "I'm going to call on General McDowell."

 "Yes, I knowed it was you, Mr. Lincoln, by your picture,
but I don't know all the folks with you."

 "I have a pass from General Scott." Russell gravely
produced the document.

"So have II" John's sense of humor was returning.

MASSALINCUM'S NIGGER 67

 "How about the women folks?" demanded the sentry. "They
make more trouble than the men."

 "Don't theyl" agreed Lincoln, genially. "Well, these ladies
have passes, I suppose. At least I found 'em in my carriage
and they refused to be turned out, so I suppose they're all
equipped for the trip."

 "Mr. Lincolnl" exclaimed Mary. She leaned forward to smile
at the sentry. "I'm Mrs. Lincoln, and this is my friend, Miss
Ford."

 Russell moved uneasily. The President chuckled. "Might as
well get used to our lack of pomp, Russelll It'll take us a long
time to stiffen our backs to carrying war weapons."

 "Can't help it, ma'am, if you ain't got passes, you can't
cross," declared the sentry.

 "Mr. Lincoln, fix it for usl" implored Mary. "You've
punished us enough for our presumption."

 Still chuckling, the President produced two cards, scribbled
on them with pencil, and Mary showed them to the sentry,
who nodded grudgingly, and, at a word from John Hay, the
driver started the horses across the bridge.

 The soldiers on duty at the other end nodded informally at
the President, and permitted the barouche to pass without
stopping. The party immediately entered a maze of camps
scattered among the magnificent trees that lined the shore to
the crest of Arlington Heights, a mile or so beyond. The
horses trotted smartly along the road to Arlington House,
formerly the home of the Confederate, General Lee, but now
confiscated by the Union, and in use as McDowell's
headquarters.

 They wound through the beautiful park that surrounded the
mansion, to the carriage porch. An orderly led them through
the wide hall to the great portico in front, with its wide and
lovely view of the Potomac and the city.

 A group of officers hastily left a map-covered table at the
far edge of the porch, and, led by McDowell, a stocky,
bearded man, came forward to greet the President and his
party. At Lincoln's suggestion, two of the officers took the
ladies off for a look at the house and grounds. As the
crinolines undulated away under tiny sunshades, he turned to
McDowell.

"Well, General, when do we have that battle?"

McDowell smiled ruefully. "What has Horace Greeley
decided, sire"

 "Immediately, Generall This exact moment! I reckon that
this perfect army of yours, by the way, it's not possible that
those several thousand un-uniformed and otherwise fellows
we saw drilling in squads on our way up here are an essential
part of the fighting force?" Lincoln's smile was more rueful
than the offficer's.

"They are the fighting force, sirl" replied McDowell.

 There was a moment's silence, during which Lincoln stared
across the shimmering blue Potomac. John Hay looked at
Russell, whose military opinion he respected even more than
he did the war correspondent's literary ability. Russell,
leaning against a white pillar, with arms folded

68 FOREVER FREE

across his broad chest, eyed a shambling soldier who, in a
rumpled and dirty uniform, and with still dirtier
accouterments, was doing guard duty on the terrace before
the house.

 "Let's see if my information is correct," said Lincoln,
finally. "You have about thirty thousand men, and the
Confederates have an equal number. A good part of your
military is made up of three months' men, whose time is
about expired. Thirty miles south of here, the Confederates
have thrown up heavy batteries near Manassas. How are
their lines disposed near here, and how can you best reach
them?"

 "I don't know, sir," replied McDowell, "for certain. There
is no such thing procurable as a decent map of Virginia. I
can be sure only of the direction of the main roads. I can
get no geographical information because the enemy is in full
force along my front, and I have no cavalry officer capable
of conducting a reconnaissance through the dense woods."

"Yet our constituents must have a battle, they say,"
murmured Lincoln.

 McDowell's grey eyes snapped with sudden fury. "Damn
the politiciansl" he said. "They'll wreck us before we begin."

 John Hay flushed. "War and politics, campaigns and
statecraft," he exclaimed, "are Siamese twins."

 "So you see, General, I am of some importance, even to
the military," smiled the President. "You must remember
this, that the enemy is in no better shape than yourself."

 "But nothing decisive is to be gained by such an
engagement, sir," pleaded McDowell. "General Scott agrees
as to that. By fall we'll be in shape to give decisive battle."

 "I know! I knowl"murmured Lincoln. He took a turn or
two round the table, unbuttoned his vest and tightened his
suspender strap, buttoned the vest, then stood absolutely
motionless, one hand on William Russell's broad shoulder,
while he gazed unseeingly at the Potomac. Some day, he
thought, he'd look at this view when his mind was not
overwhelmed with responsibility.

 "Is there anything I can do for you, in particular,
General?" he finally asked.

 "Hold that battle off until we at least have some sort of
transportation for our ammunition, Mr. President," replied
McDowell with a grim little smile. "What is it?" as an orderly
approached and saluted.

 "A rebel officer, General, under a flag of truce, wishes to
give a letter to the President."

McDowell glanced inquiringly at Lincoln who nodded.

"Bring him up," ordered the General.

 From the trees to the left emerged a tall, grey figure, with
a figure in blue on either side. As the trio moved toward
headquarters, Mary and Miss Ford, each on the arm of an
officer, crossed the terrace from the right front. Midway just
before the portico the two parties met.

 "Oh! Ohl" cried Miss Ford, dropping her escort's arm. "It's
Tom Taylorl My dear Toml" flying toward the Confederate
officer and clasping

MASSALINCUM'S NIGGER 69

his hand in both of hers. "What has happened! Don't tell me
you are a prisoner! "

 "Why, howdy, Lady Fordl" drawled Captain Taylor. "Don't
tell me you're consorting with the Yankeesl"

 "Ah, but such wonderful Yankeesl" smiled Miss Ford,
turning to introduce Mary, to find, however, that Mary had
withdrawn behind her husband. As if greatly confused, the
Virginian fled to Mary's side.

 Captain Taylor saluted the President. "I have the honor, sir,
to request that you receive a letter from His Excellency,
Jefferson Davis, President of the Confederacy."

Lincoln looked down into the man's handsome, half insolent
eyes.

"Did you come far with that letter, Captain Taylor7" he
asked.

"I came from President Davis, sir," replied Taylor, promptly.

 "Quite some distance," said Lincoln, gently. "Too bad for
you to have had so much trouble for nothing."

The Confederate flushed. "How am I to understand that, sir?"

 "As a refusal to receive your letter." Then, with a sudden
feeling of bitterness, Lincoln added, "How can you so insult
my high office, Taylor, as to ask me to receive a message
from a man presuming what Davis has presumed? Has he not
insulted his flag enough but he must add this affronts""
Lincoln turned on his heel. "Time we were heading for
home," he said, calmly. "Have you and my wife satisfied your
curiosity, Miss Ford?"

"Entirely, sir," replied the Virginian.

 "How about you, Russell7" turning to the Englishman. "Are
there any questions you'd like to ask the General that he can
properly answer?"

 McDowell raised his eyebrows. "I don't know anything
about Mr. Russell's sense of propriety, Mr. President, so
there is nothing personal in my remark, that if he possesses
one he's unique among the reporters in the United States."

 The Englishman laughed. "After all, General, I fancy your
reporters are controlled by the law of demand."

"I'm afraid that's true," agreed McDowell. "What can I do for
you, sir?"

 "May I ask for permission to study the methods of your drill
officers? I am keenly interested in the study of citizen
soldiery."

 McDowell thought for a moment before he replied, "Come
here to headquarters, Mr. Russell, whenever you have time
for such study, and I'll see what I can do to accommodate
you. I'm going to suggest, sir," turning to the President, "that
you permit the ladies to drive on slowly in your carriage,
while you gentlemen accompany me in an inspection of the
camp."

 "Oh, but we wish to see the camp too, do we not, Mrs.
Lincoln?" cried Miss Ford.

"Certainly we dol" agreed Mary, taking her husband's arm.

 "All rightl Lead ahead, McDowelll" Then, as they followed
the General around the mansion, and entered a company
street, among the trees to the east, he looked back with a
smile to Miss Ford, who was walking

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between John Hay and Russell. "I suspect you of wanting to
look over the darkies we saw as we drove up. What is it
Butler has named the runaway riggers down at Fortress
Monroe? contraband of war. Let us hope these are not
contrabands, General."

  "I'm asking them no awkward questions, Mr. President,"
replied McDowell, falling back beside Mrs. Lincoln. "They
are very useful around the camp, I assure you. See those
fellows cleaning up underbrush?" The group paused to watch
several negroes at work with axes behind a line of tents.

  "What is the difference between the contraband and stolen
property!" asked Miss Ford, indignantly.

  "Depends on where you are, I reckon," replied Lincoln.
"Around here, I'm insisting that the Fugitive Slave Law be
enforced, and all slaves be returned to their masters if their
masters call for 'em. You back me in that, don't you,
General?"

  "Certainly, sir. There was an owner came here this
morning and got back three of his slaves. Name of Ford,
Sylvester Ford. Perhaps a relation of yours, Madam?" smiling
at the Virginian.

  She did not smile. Instead she lifted her handsome head
angrily. "My father, sir. I hope he had no trouble with the
black fools."

  "None in particular. An Uncle Tom's cabin touch, that was
all. Niggers weeping, overseer cursing, owner with knitted
brows."

  Lincoln looked at the Virginian with astonishment. The
entire expression of her face had changed. She looked like
a handsome termagant.

  "Touching their slaves," he thought, "is to set loose a secret
poison in them."

  "Must have been a scalding comedy," sneered Miss Ford.
"A hard fate, indeed, for them to leave this crude camp for
the comforts of my father's plantation! My heavens!"
suddenly pointing a graceful hand toward a young negro who
came out of a near-by tent, with a gun he was polishing.
"There's another of our riggers. Zeb, come herel"

  The negro, a stalwart young fellow in faded cotton pants
and a new red army shirt, was cleaning a gun. He grinned
widely, and shook his head.

  "Can't order me no more, little Misst I'se a Lincum nigger
now. I'se in a Lincum camp. I'se white, all but ma colas"

  Curiously enough, no one laughed. By this time, the
audience was large, and the street was thronged with
listening soldiers. The July sun burned through the shade of
the giant sycamores. There was no wind. The shrilling of
locusts rose even above the noises of the camp. Miss Ford,
in her yellow frock and cloak, her little yellow hat Iying
coquettishly on the mass of her chestnut curls, was a brilliant
and intensely feminine figure despite her extreme height.

"Come here, Zebl" she repeated.

  Zeb put one great hand against the pale trunk of a
sycamore, as if he needed its well-rooted support.

           MASSA LINCUM'S NIGGER

 "I ain't going back to the plantation no mo', little Missl
They got Nap and Courty and Mattie this morning. But I'se
no field hand. I learned to read and write from old Miss. I
was her body servant. I makes claim to my rights. I'se a
Lincum rigger." This with a flash of his eyes toward the
President.

 Lincoln stood in characteristic attitude, hands clasped
behind him, head thrust forward. Something in the young
negro's words and pose,  that huge, finely shaped black
hand clinging to the tree, moved him unbearably. He could
conduct himself with perfect logic and consistency, he
thought, on this fugitive slave question, so long as he did not
actually see a fugitive! A Lincoln niggerl It was a new phrase
to the President and stirred him profoundly.

Miss Ford turned abruptly to Lincoln.

"Will you kindly exercise your authority, sir?"

 General McDowell interrupted hastily. "It's neither
necessary nor proper for you to appeal to the Chief
Executive in these circumstances, Madam. If you wish to
take the negro away with you, I'll see that he moves."

 "Masse Lincuml Massa Lincuml" cried Zeb. "Tell 'em not
to tech me; I ain't going back to slavery. Nebba, Massa
Lincum." The darkey's beautiful, mellow voice was incredibly
appealing.

 The President looked down at the Virginian. Her eyes
were black with that strange not-to-be-controlled passion,
which he had observed to obsess all slaveholders, when their
authority over the blacks was impugned or questioned.

 "Will you sell this darkey, Miss Ford7" he asked, miserably,
"I can get some one to buy him and set him free."

"Abra'm; Abra'ml" murmured Mary, but no one heard her.

 "He's not for sales" replied the Virginian. "Will you give
the necessary orders, General?"

"Masse Lincuml" pleaded Zeb.

 The President's lips quivered and he gave a great sigh.
"Zeb," he said, his voice rising clearly "I reckon you'll have
to go back, boy, while we fight this thing out."

 "Ain't never going backl" reiterated Zeb. "If I can't be a
Lincum rigger, I'll jes go up along to Mass' Jesus." And with
overwhelming suddenness he put his mouth over the barrel
of the gun he'd been polishing, touched the trigger with his
bare toe, and blew off the top of his head.

 Russell and McDowell prevented Lincoln by force from
running to help pick up what was left of Zeb. For a few
moments, after he had reached the barouche, whither
McDowell hastened the party, the President said nothing.
Then he looked at Miss Ford, sitting opposite him, still with
that look of the termagant in her violet eyes.

 "That is reality! While we play with words, Zeb gives us
truth. I don't see how God Almighty can forgive us."

"Only a fool Yankee would put arms in the hands of a
rigger, in the

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present state of things," declared the Virginian. Then with a
curious note of triumph in her voice, she added, "You'd
better take it, Mr. President, as a warning from the Almighty
that you will be playing with all the fires of hell, if you allow
your struggle to preserve the Union to touch slavery."

 Lincoln looked at her curiously. "Have you no regrets,
Miss Ford, for having driven a human being to suicides"

 "I regret losing a thousand dollars' worth of rigger,"
retorted the Virginian.

 "Oh, my dear Miss Fordl" protested Mary. "I'm a native of
a slave State but, really, one oughtn't to speak so of the
slavest That tone is what feeds the fury of the Abolitionists."

 Miss Ford's face softened as she looked down at the
pale-faced little lady at her side. "I reckon I do sound too
brutal for good manners," she said, "but you must admit,
Madam President, that I've never made any attempt to
deceive you on my feeling about slavery. Comel Why let the
incident spoil a lovely afternoons Mr. Russell, say something
enlivening for the ladies and gentlemen!"

 The Englishman who had witnessed the tragedy and
listened to the conversation following, with most intense
interest, responded at once. "I cannot say that something
enlivening occurs to me, at the moment. I am wondering
how the Secession party can hope to secede, on the plea that
it must have the right to keep slaves if it wishes, and, at the
same time, keep the slavery issue out of the war which it is
waging, to make that secession good."

"Of course, it can't be donel" declared Lincoln.

 Miss Ford gave him a quick glance, but before she could
speak, John Hay made an effort to turn the subject. "That
was quite a coincidence, Miss Ford, your meeting an old
friend on the terrace of Arlington Housel Are many
Southerners as heavily friended as your"

 The Virginian showed her dimples. "There is an
opportunity for you to turn one of your neat compliments,
Mr. Hay, but I won't press youl As a matter of fact, the
larger slaveholders of the South do have a very broad
acquaintanceship among themselves, much like that which
obtains among the landed aristocracy, perhaps I might say
the feudal aristocracy, of England."

 "Nothing small or American about your Southern
estimation of yourselves, eh7" chuckled young Hay.

 Miss Ford turned to Russell. "You had an exceptional
opportunity to observe the South at its best, on your recent
trip, sir. You visited our finest families, our most extensive
plantations. Do I overestimate our right to claim aristocratic
kinship with the British7"

 Lincoln looked with amused eyes at the Englishman.
Russell's urbanity, however, was unshaken. "Their hospitality
robbed me of power or desire to judge them, Miss Ford. I
was prepossessed, like most of my countrymen, in their
favor, before I began my tour."

MASSA LINCUM'S NIGGER 73

 "And what of your prepossession after the tour 7" asked
the Virginian, eagerly.

 "In spite of it," replied Russell with a slight deepening of
the voice, "I came away with the conviction that human
slavery is essentially wrong."

"If slavery is not wrong, nothing is wrongl" exclaimed Lincoln.

 Miss Ford threw up both her hands. "But we are no longer
discussing slavery!" she protested.

 "You asked for my opinion of your Southern aristocracy,"
said Russell, "an aristocracy built on slave labor. How can we
fail to consider slavery in expressing an opinion of it7"

"You are a Northern sympathizerl" ejaculated Miss Ford.

 "I am a neutral," replied Russell, "and sincerely so. But I'm
going to free my mind of this statement, in questionable taste
though it may be. This war will never end, until the slavery
issue enters and is fought to a conclusion. Until North and
South faces that fact squarely, both are showing themselves
to Europe as afraid to face the results of their own political
policies."

 "Right!" shouted Lincoln, so fiercely that the horses
plunged, "and I am the biggest coward of us alll"

 He sank back in the carriage, his head on his breast, and
there was that in his silence which held his companions quiet
until the ride was finished.

CHAPTER X

             THE FLAG RAISING

 ~ERHAPS poor Zeb, himself, would have been
reconciled to leaving | a life which had brought him so
little joy, had he known the effect his suicide was to have on
"Masse Lincum."

 The press of duties absorbed the President after the return
from Arlington until midnight. But when he at last won to
the quiet of his bedroom, he dropped into his chair by the
window and entered into one of those long wrestling
matches of the spirit that were the milestones of his
magnificent, but eminently human, growth through the war.

 He began by reproaching himself for not pressing his offer
to buy Zeb, feeble as that remedy for a nasty situation had
been. Then he grunted in disgust as he told himself that the
offer was typical of his own softness. Was that softness
affecting his stand on slavery in general? He could not
answer that query, but, after a moment, he told himself that
his sentimentality, his horror of others' suffering, was
effecting his stand on the conduct of the war.

 The North, clamoring for battle, could be made to
understand how stupid were its demands only by witnessing
the disaster sure to follow a premature action. Zeb's
methodl Could he use it? Could he allow Greeley and his
screaming fellows to egg on McDowell and himself to send
the army to certain and bloody failure?

 And, from every point of view, was not failure at this time
best? Early triumphs would not end the war, as Russell had
said, because they would not settle the slavery issue Defeat
on defeat for the North, humiliation on humiliation, loss on
loss, until the saving of the Union became all too meager a
cause that would be the moment to suggest that ultimate
abolishment of slavery alone could justify the dreadful
carnage

 Toward dawn, some one took his hand. He raised his head
for a moment to smile at Mary, then dropped it again,
though he clung to her warm, firm, little fingers.

 Dawn gave way to sunlight. Flies buzzed on the ceiling.
Doors slammed. The boys took their dogs into the garden.
Voices sounded in Mary's room, then subsided. A little later,
Miss Ford spoke from the hall, in her peculiarly clear drawl.

"Mrs. Lincoln, may I not send you all in some breakfasts"

"Don't bother just now, Miss Ford. I'll be out soon."

 Ordinarily, Mary's voice alone had power to pierce
through one of Lincoln's black fogs. But as the Virginian's
slow tones penetrated through the door, he heard them.

THE FLAG RAISING 75

 "Just the same tones that said 'Zeb, come herel"' he
exclaimed. "Mary, what's the matter with that woman7"

"She owns many slaves. All her property is in slaves," replied
Mary.

"I was beginning to like and admire her," he murmured.

 "She was very unpleasant yesterday, but still, I can't help
liking her," Mary nodded her head. "And I can't say your
absurd offer to buy the nigger impressed me as admirable.
You weren't exactly a brilliant spectacle as Chief Executive,
yesterday, Abra'm."

 "I reckon I was at my least brilliant point when I let you
two women intrude yourselves in the party." Lincoln sat erect
with a sigh. "I wonder if her meeting Taylor there wasn't a
little too pate Still, I don't quite see "

 Mary interrupted. "Oh, she's no spyl Don't let her
peculiarities as a slaveholder inoculate you with spy fever,
Abra'ml"

 "Oh, very welll" sighed Lincoln, too weary for argument.
"Somehow I don't feel very brisk, this morning."

 "Humphl Strangel" snapped Mary. "You ate practically no
supper last night. No food since yesterday noon. No sleep last
night. I have a devil's temper, Abra'm, but you have the
habits of an imbecile." Very gently, she began to undo his tie
and collar. "Let's get some clean things on you, dear, before
your breakfast."

 Lincoln caught her fingers, kissed them and rose. "I've got
to send a message to the war office, right off."

Tie trailing, collar unbuttoned, he strode out of the room.

 Two hours later, McDowell received his orders to move his
ill-trained, badly equipped army toward Manassas Junction.

 Perhaps nothing was so typical of Washington, those
summer days, as dust. It rolled in clouds up and down
Pennsylvania Avenue, which, as a favorite route for marching
troops, had been ground, knee deep, into powder. It turned
the red, white and blue that draped the shops and boarding
houses of the main thoroughfare to a universal gray. It
obscured the foliage of the young trees struggling for
existence at the curb, and it rolled in ceaseless fog-like waves
over the White House gardens, where Mary loved to work in
the early morning. Even the fountain below the south portico,
despite the earnest efforts of the gardener, sprayed mud into
a basin of mud.

 The day after the visit to Arlington Heights was a Saturday,
and the weekly concert of the United States Marine Band in
the White House grounds was due. Mary had planned on this
day to move the family out to the cottage at the Soldiers'
Home, which Buchanan had used as a summer residence.
But, unexpectedly, a flag raising was scheduled at the close of
the concert, at which she and the President were obliged to
be present. She was tired after the night of strain, and would
be doubly so after the afternoon's ceremonies, so she decided
to postpone the migration until the following week.

Miss Ford had begged off sitting on the dais, erected below
the south

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portico for the ceremonies. The dust, she said, was too thick
for her patriotism. She was going to spend the afternoon in
a much needed beauty sleep. When therefore, Willie found
her, late in the afternoon, seated with a tall, blue-eyed man
in the shade of a clump of ailanthus trees, that observing
youth chided her frankly for her seeming deception.

"It was too hot in my room," she explained smilingly.

 "Thought you hated dust," he said, disengaging his lips
from a pop bottle. "And you're right where it and the folks
are thickest," looking with distaste at the close packed
crowds milling over the lawns. "Soldiers and crinolines,
crinolines and soldiers," he muttered. "Gosh, they crowd
everything! Going to get closer to see my father raise the
flags"

 "Willie," Miss Ford caught his grubby hand languidly, "you
look very nice in that brown linen suit."

"It's meant to be white, you knowl" grinned Willie.

 Miss Ford returned the smile. "This is a very old friend of
mine, and I want you to go fetch Pensacola and Sumter for
him to see. He gave me the mother of the pups."

"All rightl Reckon I'll have to make Tad help me."

 When the boy had disappeared, the Virginian turned to
the man, who had been eyeing him keenly:

 "His father must have been exactly like him at his age,
though bigger and more awkward, Tom," she said.

"His father wasn't ever as clever as that lad, Lady Ford," said
Taylor.

 "Not so clever I agree. That's the mother in Willie. But
Lincoln must have been far more intelligent. That's where
Jeff Davis and his crowd are making their mistake, Tom.
That's where I made my mistake, when I agreed to the
present campaign."

 The man dusted off his linen trousers with his broad
brimmed straw hat, and listened for a moment to the band.
"Invitation to the Dance," he murmured "Wish we had that
music at the plantation, with only you and me to dance to it.
Had any new evidence of his intellectual prowess, Lady?"

 "Yes, Tom, I have. In the first place, after fumbling for a
short time, he's become master and overseer, both, of this
plantation. Seward takes orders like a lamb. Cameron
mutters, but under his breath, and does what he's told.
Chase is nasty, but he's left off his patronising manner." She
paused and laughed reminiscently. "The family sitting room
is sort of an overflow office, and Lincoln pays no more
attention to the presence of the children or Mrs. Lincoln or
myself than to so many chairs. Sometimes it annoys strange
callers, but the 'regulars' are now as indifferent as he. Two
or three nights ago I was sitting in the twilight, waiting for
Mrs. Lincoln and the boys to get ready for the "heater.

 "Lincoln came in without seeing me, threw himself down
in a chair, unbuttoned his vest, put his feet on the mantel,
and groaned as if he were weary beyond words. A second
after, the door from his office burst open, and a huge,
bald-headed man half sidled, half loped into the room.

             THE FLAG RAISING

He looked about until he caught sight of the President. Then
he shouted, 'See here, Lincoln, we've got to finish, so's I can
get back to New York. More lightl Must have more lightI'
He lighted the gas and shuffled over to the President and
stood by his chair as if he wanted to bite him.

 "The President showed those nice white teeth of his. They
always surprise me so in his sallow face. 'Greeley,' he said,
'why don't you read Artemus Ward when your nerves get
bad7'

 "Greeley, yes, that's who it was was furious. 'Have you
no sense of decency7' he shrieked.

 "'I never asked myself that,' said Lincoln and you should
have seen his grey eyes twinkle. 'But at least, I've never
followed you into the privacy of your sitting room to tell you
how little you know.'

 "Greeley stuck out his lower lip like a child that's had its
hands smacked. But the President didn't seem to notice. He
went right on with what he had to say. 'Didn't it ever strike
you as interesting, Greeley, that a couple of pretty poor
sticks like you and me should have reached positions of such
power7 Came up from about the same conditions, both of us
from poor folks, starved for an education, both of us, sort
of pulled ourselves up by our boot straps. Never'll lose the
marks of the fight, either of us. No manners, no enjoyment
of lots of the fine things better educated folks admire. But
here we are, trying to lead millions of people who've been
better trained than either of us. Reckon we're tarred with
the same stick, Greeley. Now you go home to the Tribune
and try to get off my back long enough for me to try to get
far enough ahead of the people so's they won't trample me
to deathl'

 "Well, do you know, Tom, Greeley stood there bursting to
talk, and he didn't dare do sol He gasped and puffed, and he
turned round, and went out of the room without a word."

 Tom chuckled, then said, thoughtfully, "Common sense,
Lady, but not what I've been raised to call intellectuality.
What happened next7 Did the old boy see you? Aren't
getting a little sentimental about the log splitter, are you, my
dear?"

 Miss Ford gave a disdainful sniff and passed her sunshade
to her companion to raise. The lowering sun was creeping
under the trees. "Mrs. Lincoln happened next, and with her
pushed in a delegation of clergymen. They throng the White
House day and night. It may interest you to know that they
were Abolitionists and they demanded of the President that
he issue at once an edict of freedom to the slaves."

 "Hal" ejaculated Tom. "Here's first-hand information on
that point! What did he say?"

 "After they'd finished explaining to him that it was the
Almighty's wish that he wipe slavery from the land, Lincoln
asked them if it didn't strike them as curious that when he
was carrying the responsibility the Lord should give them the
special information and never a word to him. Then he
walked off! a way he has of ending an argument." She wiped
her face

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delicately with her handkerchief. "If you are seen here, Tom,
there'll be trouble."

 "Safest place to hide is in a crowd. No one will bother us
except the Lincoln boys, thanks to you," replied Tom.

 "Willie won't be back before you leave. Only an Alpine
glacier moves more imperceptibly than Willie on an errand.
But I have more direct evidence of his feeling about slavery
and the war." She told him at length of the episode at
Arlington. "Mark my words, Tom, Lincoln is going to work
the slavery issue into the war and that at no very distant
date. The South will have to hurry, if it is to win the war
before that time."

"Is he influenced by Sumner?" asked Taylor.

 "If Sumner influences him in anything vital, it's more than
any member of his Cabinet has done," replied the Virginian.

"Curse the fooll" muttered Taylor.

 "That's just the point. He's turning out not to be a fool,"
exclaimed Miss Ford.

 The two sat brooding for a moment. The sun turned the
fog of dust to a golden glory. A drunken soldier gravely
offered Taylor a chew of plug tobacco. The Confederate
brushed him aside as though he were an imFortunate fly.
The band passed from "Autumn Leaves" to "Believe Me If
All Those Endearing Young Charms."

 "You recall my telling you about meeting McClellan again
when I took the trip to Wheeling7"

Captain Taylor nodded.

 "I've not been able to put him out of my mind. He's as
fascinating as ever. I'm only a mild sample of what he can
do to the stern, as well as the fair sex. He's really sincere in
his belief that slavery should be left alone. I wish he were
Secretary of War instead of Cameron."

 "Why not Secretary of State instead of Seward," returned
Taylor with an amused smile, "or President instead of
Lincoln?"

 Miss Ford gave him a quick look. "Laugh, if you please,
but McClellan in the White House would be a godsend to
the South. He'd preserve the Union and slavery both." She
paused to think, then went on. "Unless the South wins
quickly, a dictator is not an unthinkable solution. Greeley
has suggested it already in his impatience with Lincoln, and
Greeley's following and influence is immense. Listen, Toml
It may not be McClellan, but Jefferson Davis's job is to
watch the Northern forces for the right military man to
make dictator."

 "It all seems unreal and remote," Taylor moved a little
uneasily, "but perhaps we can't have too many strings to our
bow. I'll certainly pass on your ideas to Davis. Can't say that
I seem to hanker for plot and counterplot as you do."

 "All women love it," said the Virginian. "Weren't you
delighted with the practical effect of my embracing you
yesterday at Arlington?"

 "You mean the passt Yes, it is worth its weight in gold.
Ought to carry me through the war. How did you get it?"

THE FLAG RAISING 79

 "Mr. Lincoln wrote it in the carriage, yesterday, to get me
past the sentry. I was frightened to death lest he use my
name, and I almost screamed with relief when he wrote 'Pass
bearer.' I knew that espionage was going to be stricter and
stricter in the city, and I maneuvered a week before I finally
worked out the scheme. Of course, I didn't realize the fates
would permit me to meet you at Arlington. When do you
return to Davis7"

 "This report from you is my last chore; Jeff had only a half
hope Lincoln could be bluffed into receiving a letter. He's
trying anything to get him to acknowledge there is a
Confederacy. Is all well at Fairfax Courthouse7"

 "Working smoothly, I think. Captain Mosby is in charge
under J. E. B. Stuart. Stuart sent me word he would give me
a commission as an aide to him if I wished one. We'll
see Ah, the flag raising, at lastl You must go now, Tom.
The crowd will be breaking."

 The man did not stir for a moment, as high above the
crowd an enormous flag slowly ascended the pole below the
portico, urged by the invisible arms of Lincoln. As the lazy
folds whipped out under the dustladen wind, Taylor rose,
silently, his eyes on the flag.

"You are regretful7" asked Miss Ford.

 "Always," he replied, "but not the less a firm believer that
right is on our side. Good-by, my dear Ladyl"

 "Take good care of yourself, Tom," she replied, and looked
after him until he was lost among the shrubs near
Pennsylvania Avenue. Her solitude was not allowed to remain
long uninterrupted, however, for Taylor had scarcely reached
Pennsylvania Avenue when Willie and Tad appeared, each
dragging a pup. Both the boys were dirty and disheveled, and
both the pups were barking excitedly. John Hay followed
them.

"Where's the man?" demanded Willie.

 "He had to go. There didn't seem much hope that you'd be
back before Christmas. So sorry, for he'd loved to see the
puppies!" Miss Ford looked at the boy's flushed face with a
quizzical smile.

 "It was an engagement with me, and he'd ought to have
kept it," said Willie, in the deliberate voice that always made
his remarks impressive. "I brought John Hay along, too,
because he seems to like to know the men that know you."

 John Hay sighed dramatically and dug into the pocket of
his linen trousers. "Hush money again in order, I see. Here
you arel" bringing up a handful of pennies. "The popcorn man
was making delicious smells as I came by. Divide equally, and
take the impregnable fastnesses with you," indicating Sumter
and Pensacola, the puppies.

 When they were alone, John turned uneasy, black eyes on
the Virginian. "Wasn't that Captain Taylor with you? I caught
just a glimpse of him through the trees as I came up."

 "Mercy, not" exclaimed Miss Ford. "He's a hundred or a
thousand miles away from here by now, I pray. You're not
catching spy fever, I hope, Mr. Hay."

So FOREVER FREE

  "No, I'm not," replied John. "At least, I don't think that's
what they call my affliction. It's a curious ailment. Never
had it, at least, not seriously, until I met you."

  "Indeed! Well," with a provocative little laugh, as her eyes
met his levelly, 'let's hope that the affliction will not assume
serious proportions. Perhaps it will cure itself."

  John returned her look. "It will cure itself if it becomes
complicated by spy fever."

  "Mercy, what a revolting ideal If you'll give me your arm,
Mr. Hay, I think I'll join Mrs. Lincoln. It looks as though
one could pass through the crowd now without having one's
clothing rent from one's body."

  They made their way in silence to the house. John left
Miss Ford at her door, then went rather unhappily into the
secretaries' office. George Nicolay looked up from his
writing.

"You have an air of pain, Johnny. Confide in me, dot"

  "Miss Ford was holding a confab in the garden just now
with the Captain Taylor of yesterday's fame. Then she lied
to me about it."

  "VVhat else could she do, if you were fool enough to ask
her the direct question?" Nicolay dropped his pen and
relighted his cigar.

  "I wish she weren't so devilish good looking," grumbled
Hay. "Do you think I ought to warn the President?"

  "He needs no warning. You might tell Mrs. Lincoln about
it," said Nicolay.

  "Well, I may at my first opportunity." John pulled off his
coat, and settled himself at his desk. "I wish she wasn't so
devilish good looking," he repeated.

Nicolay laughed.

 CHAPTER XI                                     ~

                             MC CLELLAN

HE following week, the family, with Miss Ford, moved out to the Soldiers' Home, which lay
about four miles north of the White

  - House. Here, in the little brick house so reminiscent of the simple ho e in Springfield, set
high on the tree-covered hill, Mary hoped that her husband would find a certain amount of
relief, not only from the humid heat of the city, but from visitors as well.

  Certainly the nights that Lincoln spent at the Soldiers' Home were cooler than the White
House nights, but he experienced far too few of them. His associates felt uneasy when the Chief
Executive was out of immediate reach. He himself wanted to be able to wander into the war
office at any hour of the night, particularly now that the Army of the Potomac was on the
move. Lincoln felt as if the magnificent trees that made a paradise of the park around the brick
house were an insuperable barrier between himself and his job. So poor Mary spent a large
portion of her time traveling into the city, in the vain attempt to fetch her husband back with
her.

  When, on July 18th, the first news of McDowell's disaster at Bull Run was brought to the
Soldiers' Home by a dusty aide, Mary and Miss Ford immediately left for the Executive
Mansion. Nor during the feverish days that followed, when the North seemed to have gone mad
with amazement and chagrin, and to be intent on crucifying Lincoln and McDowell could they
be persuaded to return to the country. Willie and Tad, on ponies, with a soldier detailed to
guard them, drifted back and forth between the two establishments, enjoying the disorder and
excitement quite as much as did Pensacola and Sumter, who had a "chasing" acquaintance with
every chicken and cat along the route.

  Lincoln was vaguely conscious that his family had returned, and that Mary was extraordinarily
tactful and tender with him. He told her, one day, when she had sent his supper up to the
Cabinet room without waiting to be asked, that she was as grateful to him as dry socks and a
shirt would be to a man working in a tornado. But this was his sole remark to her for several
days.

  He had bowed his back patiently enough to the outcry following Bull Run. Even the stupidity
of the attacks from high places did not surprise him into a retort. General Scott, who was, as
may be supposed, deeply chagrined, and yet in an I-told-you-so state of mind, was exceedingly
bitter over the criticisms of Edwin M. Stanton, who had been a prominent member of
Buchanan's cabinet.

To Lincoln, sitting on the desk in the war office, the old General-in

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Chief said, "StantoD is an able man, sir, with a considerable
understanding of military problems, and I learned to rely on
him before you came in power. But he is not only stupid, sir,
but ridiculous when he accuses you, Mr. President, and me
of appointing only Republicans to the army."

 "Shucks, General," replied Lincoln, patting the old
gentleman gently on the shoulder, "you must harden
yourself. What Stanton says of you is nothing to what he
says of me. He says I'm an imbecile. He lays 'the
irretrievable misfortune and national disgrace' of Bull Run
directly on my shoulders. And he's quite correct in so doing.
I'm going, however, to heed only one point in his or
anybody else's hollering. I reckon, as he says, we've got to
get a new man in McDowell's place. Too bad, for
McDowell's an excellent soldier, competent people like you
and William Russell tell me But the public has lost faith in
him. And they are shaky on me too. But," with a chuckle,
"I'm not so easy to kill."

 "I seriously object to replacing General McDowelll" cried
Scott, placing a shaking old hand on his sword.

 "I knowl It is tough. But it will have to be done, General.
What would you say to moving McClellan down here? His
victories in West Virginia have put him in high favor, and,
as near as I can judge, the young fellow has all the makings
of a first class military leader."

 Lincoln spoke as tentatively as he could, for Scott was
extremely sensitive, but, having the night after Bull Run
made up his mind to put McClellan at the head of the Army
of the Potomac, he found it a little difficult to show his
usual deference in leading the old man to make the decision
he, Lincoln, desired.

 "Think it over, General," he said, "and let me know what
you conclude, within the week. I've had reports from many
reliable folks, both male and female, and they all have come
under McClellan's charm. You know as well as I do that
charm is just about the rarest bird in and about Washington
to-day, General."

He shook hands with Scott and returned to his office.

 Stanton, though brilliant and hostile, was not in the
position to frustrate Lincoln's plans as could Greeley. That
very able editor was in an obvious state of funk which he
displayed, not only in the New York Tribune, but in
passionate letters to the President, pleading with him: ". . .
You are not considered a great man, and I am a hopelessly
broken one. You are now undergoing a terrible ordeal, and
God has thrown the gravest responsibilities upon you. Do
not fear to meet them. If the Union is irretrievably gone,
there should be an immediate disbandment of forces.... If it
is best for the country and mankind that we make peace
with the rebels at once and on their own terms, do not
shrink even from that "

 "Greeley ought to uphold my hands better than this," was
the only comment Lincoln thought necessary to make on
this extraordinary appeal, as he gave the letter back to
Nicolay to file, and he turned to his making of a new
memorandum on what he designated at the top of the paper
"As To The Whole Anaconda Movement."

McCLELLAN 83

 A few days after the battle of Bull Run, Miss Ford
borrowed from Mary the pass which Lincoln had given his
wife on the day of the visit to Arlington. She had lost her own
pass, said the Virginian, and she wished to go out to Fairfax
Courthouse to see if there was anything left at all of the
plantation, and to discover, if possible, the whereabouts of
her father. Mary, all sympathy, suggested that they get the
President to give her an escort through the chaotic Union
lines that stragglingly embraced Fairfax Courthouse and its
environs.

 "Go back with Yankee soldiers7 The home folks would
Iynch mel" declared Miss Ford. "No, dear Mrs. Lincoln, Jinny
and I will make our way through quietly, and be back
to-morrow night."

 The conversation took place in Mary's bedroom, where
Lizzie Keckley, a colored mantua maker, was at work. She
was a regress of considerable intelligence, who had bought
her own freedom, and was in great demand among the
fashionables of Washington. After Miss Ford had left the
room, Lizzie re-pinned the sleeve she was trying on Mary's
graceful white arm.

 "You are awkward with this fitting, Lizzie. Aren't you well,
this morning?"

 "Yes, Madam, but I was listening to Miss Ford, I guess,
instead of thinking about my work. Madam, if you'll excuse
me for saying so, I don't think you should have let her have
that pass. Jinny tells me she writes letters all the time to
Jefferson Davis, and that they're sent from the tavern at
Fairfax Courthouse."

 Mary whirled away from the deft, brown fingers. "You're
saying she's a spy, Lizzie Keckleyl You ought to be ashamed
of yourself!"

 "Madam!" Lizzie drew herself up proudly. She was a finely
built woman of middle age, with the dignity often seen in the
better type of negro. "Madam, I am no more ashamed than
you would be to report a spy. That's why I'm working here,
to-day, instead of for other ladies who would pay me better
and be less impatient. I want to uphold Mr. Lincoln's hands."

 "Lizzie!" exclaimed Mary, with that childish catch of
repentance in her voice that endeared her to those who knew
her best. "It's I who should be ashamed! But I'm so fond of
Miss Ford, and she's been so good to me and the children!
I'm sure you must be mistaken""

 The mantua maker laid the flowing sleeve aside, and lifted
a billowy drift of pink tartan skirting. "I am not mistaken,
Madam President." She smoothed the tartan over the cutting
board, which she had laid on the bed, and lifted her shears,
hesitated a moment with eyes first on one edge of the
material, then on the other, and finally made a great slash as
she said:

 "Jinny says that Miss Ford wrote a letter last night telling
Jefferson Davis that she heard Mr. Lincoln tell Mr. Seward
that he was going to bring Major McClellan to Washington to
look him over, and that she was going to have a talk with
McClellan and size him up."

"But can Jinny read7" asked Mary, fatuously.

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  "She's as well educated as I am, and you can judge me by
my good English. She's a smart rigger, and she's going to
help Mr. Lincoln set all riggers free. The word's gone round
that he'll bring the day of glory if he can."

  Mary stood in her chemise and petticoat, staring first at
the mantua maker, then at the new crocheted lace pillow
shams Miss Ford had made for her. She was convinced that
Lizzie Keckley was telling the truth, and her first impulse
was to fly to her husband with the information. But she
feared he'd only shrug his shoulders. Surrounded by intrigue
in his very Cabinet, by disloyalty in his party, by hatred and
deceit from those on whom he must depend to carry on the
war, what would secondhand information about a spy mean
to him? And what was the use of going to him, or to any
one else, until she had checked up Lizzie's statement?

  "I suppose, Lizzie," she said, suddenly, through set teeth,
"that you think I ought to send Miss Ford away, right now.
But I'm going to do nothing of the sort."

  The colored woman straightened her back and stood with
her scissors poised over the dress material, while she looked
at Mary with an expression of singular intelligence. "Why
not, Madam?"

  "Because, Lizzie, here's my first chance to do something
for the war, for my country. The newspapers are always
insinuating that I'm giving information to the Secessionists.
I think some of the members of Mr. Lincoln's Cabinet
believe that my sympathies are Southern. If I catch Miss
Ford, it will prove I'm not. Seel" She looked eagerly at the
colored woman. "I'm so lonely, Lizzie. Now that Mr. Lincoln
has reached the White House, my occupation's gone."

"The war has upset everything," Lizzie nodded.

  "Well, call it that if you wish," the Mistress of the White
House mused sadly for a moment, then said, energetically,
"I shall find out what her little game is and beat her at it. I
need her, socially. She probably thinks she needs me to get
information from me. Very well, dog eat dog, as Mr. Lincoln
would say. You'll see that I'm just as clever as Miss Ford."

  "You have as much brain, and are better educated. That's
just the way I hoped you'd take itl" A sudden smile lighted
the colored woman's habitually tragic eyes. "And you've got
Jinny and me to help you."

"You haven't mentioned this to any one else, have you,
Lizzie?"

"No, Madam President, certainly not."

  "Then don't, until I tell you to.... So that's why " Mary
suddenly felt hurt and lonely.... "I'm just realizing another
angle, Lizzie. I thought she liked me, and I do so need a
companion."

  "She must like you," declared Mrs. Keckley, stoutly. "Any
one who gets to know you real well does. But Miss Ford or
any other old-time Southerner isn't going to lose her slaves
without fighting for 'em, tooth and claw."

  Miss Ford returned in time for tea, the following
afternoon. This was a function the Virginian herself had
established in the family sitting room. Hither, from four to
six o'clock, repaired many members of the exhausted

McCLELLAN 85

official family, and any Congressman or other caller whom
the young secretaries, collaborating with Mrs. Lincoln or Miss
Ford, thought worth the attention.

 During the early summer, the tea hour had become an
essential part of the day's routine. Lincoln liked the idea. He
loved any informal opportunity to play host. He strolled in
and out of the room, as mood and opportunity permitted. He
seldom came alone. Sometimes he brought in a distracted
woman, weeping over son or husband caught by the war, and
turned her over to his wife for tea, and the kindly word she
knew so well how to give. Frequently he dragged forward by
the arm a bashful soldier. Once, his guest was a Fox Indian
in full regalia, and at another time a festive, white haired and
illiterate old tramp, who claimed to have known the President
as a boy. Several times he was accompanied by the suave M.
Mercier, the French Minister, or Lord Lyons, a little
condescending.

 On the afternoon of Miss Ford's return there was a violent
thunderstorm that thinned the throng which usually filled the
house, and permitted a fuller attendance at tea, than usual,
of the President's associates.

 Standing in one of the windows was Seward, arguing
violently with Charles Sumner on the matter of Seward's last
exchange of insolences with Great Britain. Sumner knew the
men then governing England, personally and intimately, and
was often in despair, he frequently told Lincoln, over
Seward's ignorant tactlessness.

 "Father" Welles was seated before the flower-filled
fireplace, pulling at his white beard, as he listened to John
Hay's opinion of the battle of Bull Run.

 Mr. Chase, seated on a couch with his pretty daughter Kate
on one side of him, and William Russell on the other, was
laying down the law concerning the abilities of John Fremont,
whom Lincoln lately had appointed to head up the military
department of the West, with headquarters at St. Louis. His
sonorous phrasing did not entirely silence the rest of the
room, until he was heard to say suddenly to Russell:

 "My dear sir, I hear that a Union soldier fired at you when
he read your name on your pass yesterday."

 All conversation ceased as every one waited for Russell's
reply. The Englishman replied coolly. "Yes, it appears that
telling the truth is a crime, in this country."

 "What did you really do, Mr. Russell7" cried Mary from the
tea table. "I've heard that people are saying worse things
about you than about me. I can't imagine what vocabulary
they are drawing from!"

 "I did the usual thing for war correspondents, I fancy,
Madam President! I rode out into Virginia with the idea of
getting as close as possible to the battle supposed to be
raging at Manassas Junction. I was still several miles from the
scene of the main action at Bull Run, when I was stopped by
fleeing Union soldiers and officers. They literally clogged the
roads. Then I wrote to my paper, the London Times, what I
observed, no more and no less. Last week, the New York
Times copied my account. Other papers

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immediately followed suit, branded me as a liar, as having
maliciously maligned your glorious troops, as having
questioned their bravery. It appears now that the whole
country is in full cry against me. I have been christened Bull
Run Russell and I have no friends left except "

 He paused, and, with the others, rose as Mr. Lincoln led
an officer into the room.

 The newcomer was about thirty-five years of age. He was
under middle height, but powerfully built, square
shouldered, thick throated, with slightly bowed legs. His
head, which was covered with heavy auburn hair, was well
set, his features regular, with a remarkably determined jaw
beneath a reddish brown mustache. His forehead was
furrowed. His eyes, a beautiful deep blue, were a little
wistful in expression. His whole personality was one of
extraordinary charm.

 "Mrs. Lincoln," said the President, "this is the new
commander of the Army of the Potomac, General
McClellan. Miss Ford, I think you said you knew the
General. And this is Senator Sumner and here's England, in
the shape of Russell. By jings, Russell, you'd better not
repeat your opinion of our glorious troops to McClellan, or
he'll refuse you a correspondent's privilege."

 McClellan looked up into the big Britisher's broad face.
"You ought to know something about soldiers if you're the
Russell I think you are," he said courteously.

Russell bowed. "I saw you last in the Crimea, sir."

 "When you loaned me the only decent horse I'd ridden in
a month, sirl" McClellan turned to Lincoln. "That was in
1855, when Jefferson Davis was Secretary of War. He sent
three of us to study the operations in the Crimea.... So your
opinion of my new army is not highs Well, I'm in agreement
with you. Come to my headquarters, and I'll tell you how I
plan to make a real fighting machine of it."

 "There was an officer in, to-day," said Lincoln, sinking into
a chair beside Miss Ford, "who told me I was all wrong, that
Bull Run wasn't a defeat for the North. As near as I could
make out, from his report, our men had licked the Rebels
and then had run away."

 A general laugh greeted this and the various broken
conversations were taken up again. McClellan smiled at Miss
Ford, as he took a chair near her. "I recall your telling me
that you were keeping strange company, for a Ford of
Virginial" he exclaimed. "Just what are you doing, Lady? I
forget details""

 "Earning my living as Mrs. Lincoln's social assistant, and
incidentally trying to influence the President on the side of
not dealing too harshly with us poor slaveholders," replied
the Virginian, with a little smile at Lincoln.

 The President returned the smile as he accepted a cup of
tea from Mary. "She's influencing all of us, McClellan, one
way or another. John Hay writes poetry to her, don't you,
John?"

Young Hay blushed but showed no other sign of confusion.
"The com

McCLELLAN 87

petition between Russell and myself is very sharp, sir. Russell
has every advantage save that of poetic genius."

"So you admit your genius!" exclaimed Mary.

 "Certainly!" retorted Hay. "But I've a notion, if Miss Ford
continues to be so cold, to get a commission as a
major-general."

 Everybody laughed, McClellan adding, "Come to me for
your training, Hay. I'll see that you're made regimental poet.
A minstrel in uniform ought to outrank Russell at every
point."

 "I see I've got to revise my strategy," declared Russell,
looking at Miss Ford with an enigmatic expression in his keen
eyes.

 "I'm quite sufficiently entranced by your present tactics,"
drawled the Virginian. "I reckon the ladies in the Crimea, if
there were any, must have given you a wonderful schooling,
Mr. Russell."

 John Hay groaned, and again every one laughed. Russell
turned to McClellan. "I shall be glad to avail myself of your
invitation, General. When is one apt to find you least busy?"

 "Never!" smiled McClellan. "So come when you will. The
amount of work to be accomplished is stupendous, but I glory
in the thought of it. As if the military details were not
enough, the President has been impressing me with the
political significance of my work. I find myself in a new and
a strange position here! President, Cabinet and General Scott
all deferring to me. By some strange operation of magic, I
seem to have become the power of the land."

 Miss Ford, who had been leaning toward him over the tea
table, drinking in his every word, gave a little sigh. Mary
exchanged a look with William Russell. Charles Sumner, who
had broken off his conversation with Seward to listen to the
conversation round the tea table, rose abruptly. "There's
certainly been a grave mistake made in this hasty choice," he
said in a low voice to the Secretary of State.

"Lincoln seldom misjudges his man," replied Seward, in the
same tone.

Sumner shrugged his shoulders, and took his leave.

  McClellan, after a short exchange of Fairfax Courthouse
memories with Miss Ford, rose also. Lincoln took him by the
arm.

  "Mustn't work too hard, my boyl Too much depends on
you. Before you leave, let me show you my map."

  He led McClellan into his bedroom, and brought him to
pause before the war map which showed by the pins both the
ideal "Anaconda" plans, and the actual campaign in progress.

  McClellan's blue eyes swept the map intelligently, but
cursorily. "Scott's plan has an essential weakness," he said.
"As long as we are so heavily outnumbered by the enemy, the
coils of the snake will be ineffectual. We must have men,
more men, training, and more training. Then I propose to
carry this thing en grand and crush the Rebels in one
campaign."

  Lincoln moved uneasily, picked up "Halleck" and laid it
down, then quoted good humoredly, "If it were done when 'tis
done then 'twere well it were done quickly."

88 FOREVER FREE

  'Aphorisms won't make an army move," rather
contemptuously from the young General, Lincoln thought.
"You'll really have to excuse me now, sir. I have some
immensely important matters to attend to, to-night."

  "Of course you have," agreed the President gently. "Good
night, my boy. God speed you in your great task."

  Lincoln felt a real sense of relief, with McClellan actually
heading the demoralized Army of the Potomac, and after
the tea party he yielded to Mary's pleas and consented to
spend the night at the Soldiers' Home. He asked William
Russell to come along, so, with Mary and Miss Ford, the
barouche was full.

  The country road was beautiful in the twilight, and for a
time there was silence while each of the four enjoyed, in his
or her own way, the surcease from the turmoil of the
Capital. It was not until the stars were shut out by the great
branches of oak and tulip trees that Mary said thoughtfully:

"I wonder what Mrs. McClellan's honest opinion is of her
husband."

Russell laughed. "My dear Mrs. Lincoln, what a terrible
thought!"

  "Not at alll" retorted Mary. "I assure you that my honest
opinion of my husband is a very pleasant thing to
contemplate."

  She was sitting beside Lincoln, and at her stout
declaration, he dropped his great hand on her knee.

  "We're not going to give you any praise for that,"
exclaimed Miss Ford. "Are we, Mr. Russell?"

  "Certainly not," replied the Englishman. "I claim to be able
to pass a very creditable examination myself on the pleasant
opinion side. I might go further than you, even, Madam
President, having had a wider experience with men."

  "Hearl Hearl" chuckled the President. "What a delightful
evening I'm havingI"

  "Well, Mr. Russell, with your wider experience of men,
what do you think of General McClellan7" asked Mary.

"A man of most felicitous social gifts," replied the
correspondent.

"Oh, don't be irritatingI" urged Mary. "No one is going to
quote you."

  "Let's have it, WilliamI" said Lincoln, abruptly, realizing
suddenly that there was no one whose opinion he'd rather
have.

"William! Mercy, how familiar!" commented Mary.

  "Pleasel" protested Russell. "I can't tell you how
complimented I felt if it means what I hope it means."

  "It means I look on you as one of the few disinterested
friends I possess, if you want plain truth, by jingsI" Lincoln
lifted his hand from Mary's tiny knee and banged it down on
the Englishman's mighty one. "Now, boy, let's have it."

  "His appointment is bound to be popular. He has the
points that make for personal popularity. But all he's done
to gain his exalted position is to have some skirmishes with
bands of Confederates in West Virginia. Is he your best bet,
Mr. Lincoln, as you Americans say7"

McCLELLAN 89

  "Yes," answered the President, thinking of the long hours
spent in reviewing all the available material.

  "What of Fremont, sir?" asked Russell. "He is at least a
more picturesque figure for popular purposes, after his
western explorations. He's quite the rage in England."

  "Well, I'll tell you one single fact about Fremont," replied
Lincoln. "Blair and other of my Cabinet members, and
General Scott, were all positive that Fremont, with the
Senator Benton following in St. Louis, would do wonders at
cleaning up the mess out West. I gave him his appointment
the first of July. He stayed in New York three weeks, fussing
over some private matters, and Blair and the rest of his
backers never got him started for St. Louis until yesterday.
He did so with every hour as important to the North out
there as a century of ordinary timer Poor Blair got so he
squirmed himself out of excuses, when I'd ask him, night and
morning, 'Fremont launched yet?'" Lincoln laughed dolefully.

  "And what was your opinion of General McClellan, Miss
Ford?" asked Mary.

  "He's a delightful person. Also, I would guess, a fine
executive. My cousin knows of his work for the Illinois
Central."

"Humphl" sniffed Mary. "Well, I'll tell you what I think of
him."

  "Don't, Maryl" protested Lincoln. "You have an awful gift
for prophesying the truth about folks."

  Mary gave no heed. "George McClellan is already too
conceited to see straight, and he's a coward. I know the way
his lips quirk and shake."

  "He's no coward. I've known him since his West Point
days," contradicted Miss Ford.

"HumphI" replied Mary, impolitely.

  The carriage turned up the driveway to the house, the boys
and the pups tumbled noisily to meet the visitors, and no one
spoke of McClellan again that evening.

                CHAPTER XII
              LIZZIE ItECKLEY

T IZZIE KECKLEY, cutting out a red merino cloak for the
Mistress of the White House, had a few words to say about
Miss Ford's trip to . ~ Fairfax Courthouse, a day or so after
the Virginian's return to Washington.

  "Jinny says," relieving her mouth of half a dozen pins, "that
Miss Ford met an old friend named Captain Taylor out at
the Ford's plantation. Jinny listened under the window. She
says they were rejoicing over the turn things took at Bull
Run, but mostly they were conjecturing about how the
President stands on interfering with slavery. They'd heard
that General Fremont had said to Horace Greeley, up in
New York, that when he got out to St. Louis he was going
to pronounce all the slaves in Missouri free, and they were
wondering what Mr. Lincoln would do if that happened.
Miss Ford, she said Fremont would be assassinated if he
tried that foolishness."

  Mary turned white. "Don't talk assassination ever in my
presence, Lizzie. I live in a bloody shadow. The President
constantly is threatened with thatl"

  "I'm sorry, Madam. I won't again. It seems Miss Ford
didn't go out so much to give as to get news. She wanted to
hear all about how soon Bull Run made the Secesh leaders
feel they would end the war. She kept saying if it didn't end
quick, Mr. Sumner would get the slavery issue into it."

  "Lizzie," asked Mary, "why has Jinny turned against her
mistress, like this7"

  "You remember that day you all saw Zeb shoot himself?
Well, Zeb was Jinny's husband."

"Ahl" Mary shook her head thoughtfully. "Slavery is a wicked
thing."

  There was little here, Mary felt, to rouse further suspicions
regarding the Virginian. Certainly, that astute person was
behaving admirably, during these feverish August days. With
the letdown of social activities that followed McDowell's
disaster, she began to give time to the two little boys, taking
walks with them, joining them in games of croquet, reading
Peter Parley to Tad and to Willie, Scott's "Lay of the Last
Minstrel." The children liked her.

  Lincoln had not forgotten his thought of sending Miss
Ford to Kentucky, but the stress of trying to force action on
the part of his military leaders, thrust the thought into the
background during August. Even the pertinacity of the
Virginian was unable to break through the absorption with
which the President studied the prosecution of the war, until
chance

LIZZIE KECKLEY 91

permitted her to catch him, one moonlit evening, returning
from the war office.

  She waylaid him under the trees near the north portico.
"Kentucky!" she exclaimed, laughingly.

  "Jingsl You're rightl Kentuckyl" he replied. "If I fail in my
military harvest, I ought to try the harder to bring in political
sheaves, ehl"

  "Well, Mr. President, August yielded the Union forts,
Hatteras and Clarkl" suggested Miss Ford.

  "Mere flea bites and you know it, Miss FordI" protested
Lincoln, moving toward the door, with the Virginian on his
arm. "So you really still want to help me about Kentucky?"

  "What should change me?" she inquired, looking archly up
into his face, as they entered the hall.

  Lincoln smiled, but perfunctorily. She was beautiful and
likeable, he told himself, but whenever she actually entered
his consciousness, he saw Zeb's poor blasted face over her
shoulder. Nevertheless, he believed she might give him real
help in Kentucky.

  "Come up to my office for a few moments," he said. "I can
give you your instruction right now, and you can get going,
to-morrow or next day."

  The heat was extraordinary. The President's office was full
of mosquitoes and great moths, buzzing around the lights.
Miss Ford set her fan to work the moment she had settled
her white organdy ruffles on the little sofa. Lincoln
unbuttoned his white linen coat and vest, ran his fingers
through his wet black hair, and sank slowly to his desk chair.

  "Kentucky worries me," he sighed. "I reckon part of my
withered old heart never will leave my native state. It will
hurt me forever if she doesn't come over grandly to the
Union side. I've sent a pair of good Kentuckians out there.
Major Anderson, who's recruiting for me "

  "His name spells magic, since Sumter, of course,"
interrupted Miss Ford.

  Lincoln nodded. "The other emissary is Navy Lieutenant
William Nelsonl You've seen him playing about here with
John Hay. He has the social gifts Kentucky appreciates. I've
given him leave of absence and sent him to Kentucky, without
instructions. Then, there's my dear friend James Speed of
Louisville. He is "

  Lincoln suddenly paused. Something in the deep violet
eyes, looking so clearly into his, tore his thoughts for the
moment from the spheres of influence he was establishing in
Kentucky. For the first time in the course of his
acquaintanceship it occurred to him that Miss Ford liked him,
that her scorn, her earlier patronizing manner, had been
replaced by respect and almost, he might have sworn,
affection. If this were the case, he need not guard his
statements, limiting them to facts all the world knew, as he
had been doing. If she now respected and liked him, her
loyalty would not be so open to question, always, of course,
remembering that she was a slaveholder.

"What is troubling you, sir?" asked the Virginian, in her soft,
slow tones.

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 "Well, I was thinking that your attitude had changed
toward me. That you weren't looking on me so much as the
toy jumping jack, jerked by Seward and Sumner, as you did
at first, and in that case, I'd tell you something more about
conditions out yonder."

 "Why should you think I could look on you so?" exclaimed
the Virginian, indignantly.

 "Oh, come, Miss Ford," Lincoln smiled at her. "I can see
through a stone fence as far as any onel I'd like to possess
McClellan's ways, or young Nelson's, and I know just how
you ladies feel toward me."

 "If you knew how I felt toward you, you'd be ashamed of
your last three or four statements," retorted Miss Ford.

 "That's goodl I'm obliged to you, Miss Ford," feeling that,
for once, she was showing him the side most remote from
her devotion to slavery. "This being so, I'll talk to you about
Fremont. Kentucky has its eye on the General. If he keeps
on fooling with emancipation of the slaves, Kentucky will
kick over the traces, and secession will get her. If he does go
very far in that direction, I'll abrogate whatever he doesl"

 The Virginian smiled. "Goodl There's where your hard
common sense speaks."

 "There's where I'm trying to soothe your slavery qualms,"
thought the President. Aloud, he said, "Of course, Fremont
may listen to my warnings, that is, if Mrs. Fremont will back
me. She's old Benton's daughter and ought to have been a
man. She's handsome as they make 'em, and she's Fremont's
boss. Now, then, didn't I hear you say that you'd met her?"

 "For once, I must fail you on an acquaintance, sir," shaking
her head, "but we have many mutual friends. I know that she
knows of me, very well."

 "Goodl You go out to St. Louis and make Mrs. Fremont
make her spouse see sense about emancipation in its effect
on Kentucky, to say nothing of Missouri."

 "I like that errand. Like the other one, I can do it with
perfect honesty!" cried Miss Ford.

 "It's the sort of errand I aim to give people," said Lincoln,
rising with a weary sigh.

 Miss Ford swept slowly toward the door, where she paused
to say, with convincing sincerity,

 "I hope nothing will ever happen to prevent my doing such
constructive work as this." The door swung gently after her,
and Lincoln went to bed.

 Acting on her usual plan of confiding nothing of her
personal affairs to any woman, Miss Ford merely asked Mrs.
Lincoln for permission to have a two weeks' leave of
absence, for business reasons, and she was gone before it
occurred to the President that Mary should have been
consulted. When, the evening after the Virginian's departure,
Mary said at supper, with a sigh,

"Poor Miss Ford had to go off again. I do miss her sol"
Lincoln, with

LIZZIE KECKLEY 93

the guilty adroitness of a long-married husband, looked
sympathetic, shook his head and asked Mary how her garden
was coming along.

  It was Lizzie Keckley with a letter from Jinny in St. Louis
who roused Mary's slumbering suspicions. Not that the report
told of Miss Ford's being engaged in any but loyal activities,
but it stated that Mrs. Fremont's maid had heard Mrs.
Fremont speak of Miss Ford as Mr. Lincoln's unofficial
emissary.

  Mary's quick temper flared. She tore the letter in half and,
with the pieces in her hands, flew to find her husband. John
Hay, looking up from his shabby desk, in the still shabbier
secretaries' office, looked troubled as he saw the fury in Mrs.
Lincoln's eye.

  'The President is in conference with Mr. Seward and Mr.
Cameron," he said. "They are in great trouble. Word has just
reached us that General Fremont has issued a proclamation
freeing all the slaves belonging to rebels in the State of
Missouri. Looks as if we'd lose the border states to secession,
in spite of the way the President has been nursing them
along."

  "Yes, and do you realize that Miss Ford is out there, as
one of Mr. Lincoln's nurses, that he's trusted that spyl
That's what comes of his ceasing to confide in me." Mary
shook the torn letter before John's anxious and abashed gaze.

"Oh, do you think that, too," he exclaimed.

  "Tool" cried Mary. "What do you mean, John Hay? Don't
try to soothe mel"

  "I want to soothe you just enough so that you'll let me
confide in you about Miss Ford, dear Madam President,"
retorted the young man. "But if you frighten me to death, the
confidences, of course, will be lost to you and the world
forever!"

  In spite of herself, Mary's blue eyes twinkled. "I'm glad I'm
formidable to some onel" she exclaimed.

  "Formidable! My poor knees are clacking together like the
clapper bones in a minstrel show. When you came in, I
thought I was to be beheaded. Now I hope for nothing worse
than forty years in the TowerI" He was leading her slowly
toward Nicolay's empty chair, as he chattered. "How lovely
that purple dress isl Have I seen it before? What is it made
of, poplin?"

  "It's a lavender print, goose. Come, John, I'm sorry I
showed temper, but really that man "

  "What's the poor old Tycoon done now?" asked John,
looking at her with an affectionate smile. "How do you like
my new name for him? We are corresponding at present with
the Tycoon of Japan, concerning treaty ports. Nicolay and I
think the title just suits our blessed War Chief."

  "You ought to watch him more closely than you do, John,
or he won't be a Tycoon long. Now listen to mel I must tell
this or burst."

  She gave him a concise account of Lizzie Keckley's and
Jinny's reports on Miss Ford. She was a remarkable
raconteur and John Hay, in spite of

94 FOREVER FREE

an anxious scowl, chuckled many times during the recital.
When the story was done, he told her of the seemingly
trivial incidents that had made him uneasy regarding the
beautiful Virginian.

 "And what's more, I think William Russell shares my
suspicions," he ended.

 "But I thought you both were more or less in love with
herl" exclaimed Mary.

 Hay grinned. "So we are, in a comfortable sort of way.
She's quite a perfect object to which to devote verses."

 "Ohl Thatl" Mary shrugged the plump shoulders across
which the lavender print was draped so gracefully. "Will you
tell Mr. Lincoln, or shall I, John? I don't relish the job, now
I'm cooled down. He does trust his friends sol"

 John sighed. "I'll tell him, of course, but he'll wish to
follow it up with you and Lizzie."

"I suppose so," echoing his sigh, as she left the office.

 She got her moment with the President, just before he
started for a tour of inspection of the fortifications
McClellan was throwing up around the city. He listened to
her intently, shaking his head in a troubled way.

 "I've been uneasy about her, ever since the Zeb episode.
I thought she was actually growing friendly, though, I still
was a little uneasy. I fixed this job in St. Louis so if she
wasn't playing fair, she'd be pretty sure to stub her toe and
show her petticoat."

"What are you going to do about it?" urged Mary, anxiously.

 "Wait for her to show her petticoat," he replied, stooping
to kiss the troubled face. "There's going to be several folks
talk too much, shortly. I sent a letter to Fremont to-day,
abrogating his freeing of the slaves."

 "Well, Abra'm, even after twenty years, you do beat mel"
exclaimed his wife. "I thought I had to protect you from
her! You keep out of the sun all you can, this afternoon."

"Yes, ma'am," replied the President, meekly.

 There was, indeed, a flood of talk set loose by Lincoln's
abrogation of Fremont's act. All the Abolitionists in
Congress immediately were about the President's ears.
Charles Sumner could not contain himself for indignation.
He was in New York when he heard of Lincoln's action, but
the moment he returned to Washington he called his
carriage and galloped to the White House. That it happened
to lack but a half hour to midnight made no impression on
him.

 Lincoln was in his bedroom, in his nightshirt and
slippers, the night was stifling, reading Petroleum Nasby
on War. He was shrieking with laughter, as Sumner burst
unceremoniously in at the door.

 "Mr. Lincoln! How could you?" groaned Sumner,
dramatically casting his high hat and the newspaper report
of Lincoln's letter together on the table.

"dings! Listen to this, Charles! How does the fellow think of
such gags?"

While Sumner walked the floor, groaning, the President read
aloud the

LIZZIE KECKLEY 9 5

paragraph which he had so enjoyed. Then he pulled off his
spectacles, and placed them in the pamphlet. "If I didn't
laugh at least once a day, Charles, I'd cut my throat. What's
on your mind?"

 Sumner tossed his great arms into the air, and replied, with
a voice that shook the chandelier: "How idle to possess the
power of a god, and not to use it godlike! A vain masquerade
of battles, a flux of blood and treasure and nothing donel
This was your great moment, and you cast it back in the teeth
of the man who gave it to your"

 "Meaning John Fremont? I've had a lot of trouble with that
fellow." Lincoln thrust a long, bare leg over the arm of his
chair, and shook his head. He was sorry that Sumner had
come to him at such a weary moment of the day, but, since
he was here, it would be best to arrive at a clear
understanding with the great Abolitionist.

 "Fremont's proclamation," he said, "is simply dictatorship.
It assumes that a general may do anything he pleases,
political as well as military. Fremont's proclamation was not
an act of military necessity, but based on his own political
desires. Did I not abrogate this act, I should be surrendering
the government by permitting a general to make permanent
rules of property."

 "Quibbling!" cried the Senator. "Legal quibbling that every
day gives moral support to the rebellion!"

 "Charles, use a little Yankee sense along with your oratory.
The Kentucky legislature wouldn't budge in our favor until I
modified Fremont's proclamation. To lose Kentucky was to
lose Missouri and Maryland, and the job on our hands would
be too large for us. We would as well consent to separation
at once, including the surrender of this Capital. But the
revocation of Fremont's decree has saved Kentucky to the
Union, and placed forty thousand soldiers in the Union
Army."

 "I have no patience with the undue influence the border
states are having on this administration " Sumner was
interrupted by the sudden opening of the hall door.

 A fine looking woman in a sweeping black silk dress, her
dark hair looped over her ears, a grey veil thrown back over
her tiny bonnet, swooped into the room. Miss Ford in a green
silk traveling cloak, and a broad green hat with sweeping
plume followed her. Sumner gave an agonized glance at
Lincoln's nightshirt. With astounding quickness, he tossed the
dressing robe from the bed to the President's knees, while
Miss Ford performed a breathless introduction:

"Mr. Lincoln, may I present Mrs. John Fremont who "

 Mrs. Fremont interrupted. "Who has come from St. Louis,
without rest or sleep, to demand an immediate explanation
of your brutality to her husband. Why have you dared "

 "Just a moment, Madaml" protested Lincoln. "A man in his
nightshirt is at a disadvantage in an interview of this sort, as
my friend Sumner has tactfully suggested. But if the general
public insists on using my bedroom as a reception hall, I'm
the last man in these United States to protest."

96 FOREVER FREE

He pulled on the robe slowly as he continued, "Mrs.
Fremont, this is Senator Charles Sumner."

 Mrs. Fremont bowed, but the rush of her anger could not
be checked or diverted, and, with a sigh, Lincoln, long
trained in the symptoms of feminine hysteria, gave her her
way.

 "You have dared to send Montgomery Blair out to St.
Louis to spy on John Fremont A Blairl Not fit to black my
husband's boots. Isn't that true, sir?"

 "The Blairs, when the war began," replied Lincoln, mildly,
"could think of nothing but Fremont. At their earnest
recommendations and solicitalions, he was made a general
and sent to St. Louis."

 "I don't believe it! I don't believe they've ever been
anything but his enemies," cried Mrs. Fremont.

 "One moment, Mrs. FremontI" Miss Ford put a firm hand
on the older woman's arm. "You forgot yourself when you
broke into this room at midnight. You are still further
forgetting yourself when you give Mr. Lincoln the lie. He's
not only President of the United States, but he's also not the
kind of a man you speak so tol"

 "Abe Lincoln?" cried Mrs. Fremont. "From the backwoods
on the Sangamon? This is his kind of language!"

 "I'll not tolerate thist" ejaculated the Virginian, drawing
herself to her fine height, and looking extraordinarily
handsome in the flickering candlelight. "When you asked me
to introduce you to the President, I did not agree to
acquiesce to your insulting him."

 "Don't worry, Miss Ford," said Lincoln. "I'm a hard person
to insult. Give her her head for a little. Sometimes it cures
'em."

 Mrs. Fremont who had been nervously ransacking the little
silk bag she carried, now shook a letter in Lincoln's face,
and demanded of him, in exchange for it, any letters he may
have had from Frank or Montgomery Blair concerning her
husband.

 The room was poorly lighted. Lincoln had been reading by
a single candle, the light of which flickered on his hollow
cheeks, his tender lips, the shadowed grey eyes daily growing
more shadowed. Sumner looked from this beautiful and ugly
face, at which so shortly before he himself had glared in
anger, to the quivering, half-maddened features of John
Fremont's wife, and, even in the dim candle glow, one could
see him flush. His own great egotism melted as it had
melted many times before in Lincoln's presence.

 "Whatever the President has done at least has been done
properly, and I for one " He tried to be heard above Mrs.
Fremont, but failed.

 The door from Mary's room opened and Mary, in her pink
boudoir gown, appeared. She was carrying her candle. She
placed it on the reading table, then stood beside Sumner,
listening.

 For perhaps five minutes Mrs. Fremont rushed on, reciting
the history of her husband's course, denouncing his accusers,
demanding retractions,
LIZZIE KECKLEY 97

apologies and new commissions. No one interrupted her,
until, with eyes filled with tears of weariness and indignation,
she declared:

 "You are merely jealous. You know that if John C. Fremont
wished, he could have your place here in the White House."
There Mary took a step toward her.

"Madam!" she began.

 Lincoln touched his wife on the shoulder. "Mary, be silent!"
he said, giving her what she called his "look of granite." She
subsided. But Miss Ford did not recognize the look, or at
least she refused to apply it to herself.

 She seized Mrs. Fremont by both wrists and shook her,
vigorously. She was furiously angry, herself.

 "Do you mean to say, Mrs. Fremont, that that weak,
vacillating man of yours could ever hope to hold the reins
here7 Don't you know that it would require a man of twice
General Fremont's mental stature, and ten times his military
skill? And don't you realize by now that Lincoln is a
consummate politician, that he's never going to alienate the
Southern Unionists by setting the slaves free?"

 Mrs. Fremont whirled so impetuously on the Virginian that
her crinolines knocked Petroleum Nasby off the table. The
President rescued his spectacles and the pamphlet, giving the
latter a little pat as he laid it down.

 "If you were so sure of that, Madam," shrieked Mrs.
Fremont, "why did you try by every sly method to encourage
my husband to issue that edict of freedom?"

 "Your insinuations are utterly false, Madam FremontI"
cried the Virginian, furiously.

 "You shall not give me the liel I was bred in politics and I
understand political intrigue, even when it's far more cleverly
handled than yours, Miss Ford," ejaculated Mrs. Fremont.
"But whatever is your motive, your scheming will fail. No one
can be the head of this government who will not before long
agree to free the slaves if the Union forces win."

 "Your husband will never be that head, notwithstanding the
machine you are building in Missouri, to that end," drawled
Miss Ford.

 "Nor will George McClellan, in spite of your favor,
Madam," retorted Mrs. Fremont. "No one can become a real
leader of this Union who is afraid to free the slaves."

 "No man can attempt to free the slaves in this country and
not be assassinated," drawled Miss Ford.

 There was a moment of appalled silence, broken by
Sumner. "Miss Ford, dare you so to malign your countrymen?
Dare you?"

 The Virginian tossed him a haughty look, in which sparkled
a considerable degree of contempt. "Your fanaticism is as
absurd, Charles, as Horace Greeley's. The only difference is
that you thunder in the open, where any one can come back
at you, while Greeley screams his invectives and then runs to
hide under the bed. But both of you are alike in mis

98 FOREVER FREE

taking the temper of this country as regards the freeing of
slaves. Am I not right, Mr. Lincoln?"

  But Jessie Fremont was not to be permanently turned
from her quarry. Startled into silence for a moment by Miss
Ford's abrupt suggestion, she revived and returned with
renewed vigor to her attack on the President. He watched
her with weary patience, until she threw the letter from her
husband in his face. He picked this up, and thrust it into the
pocket of his dressing gown. Then he shook his finger before
Mrs. Fremont's eyes so suddenly that she caught her breath.
He quickly made his statement:

  "Madam, you have taxed me so violently with many things
that I've had to exercise all the awkward tact I have to avoid
quarreling with you. I will answer the general's letter by
mail. Kindly make no attempt to prolong or repeat this
interview. And now, good night, everybody. I'm going to
bed."

  He picked up his candle, nodding his head at Mary. She
at once lifted hers, made a sweeping bow and left the room.
Charles Sumner took one of Mrs. Fremont's arms, Miss
Ford, the other, and thus they forced the protesting, half
weeping woman out the door. Lincoln listened to her voice
receding down the hall, then he blew out his candle and got
into bed.

               CHAPTER XIII
                  FR{MONT

T INCOLN'S waking thought, the next morning, was that if he
was in for an unpleasant session with Miss Ford, he'd better
have done ~ with it as soon as possible. The Virginian,
apparently, was at one with him as to the value of speed, for
she met him in the garden, whither he slipped for a breath
of air before breakfast. She wore the green traveling suit and
carried a little reticula filled with papers.

 Lincoln, standing under a copper beech, hands clasped
behind his back, watched her sweep up the path, her poise
unassailable, he thought.

 "Good morning, Mr. President! That was a horrid scene
you were inflicted with, last night. I tried my utmost to
persuade her to leave it till morning. But all I could do was
to follow her and try to protect you from the worst."

 "Can't blame Mrs. Fremont for fighting for her General,"
replied Lincoln. "You were the one I needed protection
froml"

"It" raising her eyebrows.

 "Why did you try double dealing in St. Louis, Miss Ford?"
laying a great hand on her shoulder and looking into her
fine eyes. "Do the slaves mean more to you than honor7"

 She flushed painfully but returned his look. "I was not
double dealing in St. Louis. I gave you the chance to show
your stand on slavery and thus save Kentucky. Didn't it
swing the legislature immediately for the Union?"

 Lincoln gazed at her with a curious sort of admiration. If
her influence had counted with Fremont, she had done just
that! But what was her motives He dropped his hand from
her shoulders, and bowed his head in thought. The Virginian
watched him with a smile half wistful, half determined,
touching her lips.

 His suspicions were thoroughly roused about her, now, but
he did not think it would be wise summarily to dismiss her.
She was a person of distinguished friendships. She was
herself a personage. He proposed to know exactly what her
business in the White House might be. He was convinced
that this was no ordinary spy case, such as the chief of the
National Detective Police might handle successfully.

 "Perhaps it helped," he agreed, reluctantly. "Suppose you
give me the report on your work out there."

 "I have written it out for you," she said, "because I have to
go immediately to OUI plantation. My father is ill. I hope to
be back in a couple of days."

"Very well," replied the President. "I'll go over the whole
matter with

100 FREE

you, on your return." He shook hands with her, with a
distinct sense of relief. Jinny and Mrs. Keckley were as
competent as Baker to watch the Virginian, outside the
White House.

 He read her report at breakfast, handing it over afterward
to Mary. It was a remarkably keen diagnosis of the whole
complicated situation in Missouri, where not only was North
contending with South, but where conservative and radical
Northerners, as the pro-slavery and anti-slavery forces were
called, fought bitterly one with the other. Lincoln, for
months, had been obliged to interfere personally, in an
endeavor to force sufficient harmony to save the people of
the State from the lawlessness and crime that prevailed.

 Miss Ford passed lightly over these facts, long known, of
course, to the President. But she gave details that the
President had not heard as yet, of the bitter personal quarrel
between Fremont and the highly influential family of Blairs,
who were loyal to the administration, intensely eager to hold
their much loved Missouri to the Union. The blame for this,
Miss Ford laid squarely on the shoulders of Fremont. This
was important information if true. But still more important
for the President's attempt to analyze Miss Ford's obscure
motives, was the suggestion that closed her report.

 She thought that General McClellan should be sent to
Missouri for a month, to clean up the civil as well as the
military chaos that reigned in the State.

 "I wonder," was Lincoln's comment as he gave the
document to John Hay, when he reached his office, "just
how far-reaching her friendship for George McClellan is."

 Young Hay took the paper with a look of interest. "I heard
that she was back, Mr. President, very much sol" with a grin.
Then he nodded toward the reception room. "There's a
group of reporters out there, sir, champing on the bit and
snorting. General McClellan has issued another of his mad,
sad statements, and they want your opinion on it. Among
others, is the fellow I ordered last spring not to come here
again, the one that accredited a vile joke to you about one
of your Cabinet members. I told him you wouldn't see him,
but he showed me a glowing letter from Miss Ford,
introducing him to you."

 Lincoln flushed. That evil pun had made him infinite
trouble with Secretary Chase, who had refused to believe
Lincoln's repudiation of its authorship.

 "It makes me just as mad to be accused of telling smutty
stories as it would be if they called me a bawd, out and out,"
he declared, angrily.

 Young Hay took an eager step toward his chief. "You see,
sir, you have the reputation, already passing into legend, of
being incapable of losing your temper, even of feeling
righteous indignation. A fellow like this Gordon trades on
that reputation, or he'd never dare to come near you. Now
I've seen you hopping mad, several times, and it has a most
salutary effect on every one."


FR1lMONT 101

 "Bring him in here to me, John," said Lincoln. "They can
accuse me of drunkenness, of treachery to my party, they may
call me an ape and a clodhopper and a fool, and I can keep
silence. But when it comes to saying I deal in smut-well, we
can't stop the spread of the poison now, but I can show one
of the carriers what I think of it. Bring Mr. "Obscene"
Gordon in here."

 John rushed from the room and returned at once, followed
by a youngish man, handsome in a florid, loose-lipped
fashion, dressed in the most immaculate of grey linen suits.

 "This, Mr. President," said Hay, "is the reporter of whom I
spoke to you last spring."

 Gordon nodded his head familiarly to the President. "Say,
Lincoln, what is your comment on the report that McClellan
has said, 'I would cheerfully take the dictatorship and agree
to lay down my life when the country is saved'?"

 "Have you credentials, Mr. Gordon, giving your title to my
confidences?" asked Lincoln.

 "Oh, didn't think you were particular. I'm from the New
York World and here's a letter from a friend of yours and the
Madam's." The young man handed the President a note
which he took and very deliberately putting on his spectacles,
read:

 "Dear Mr. Lincoln: All my friends are not Southerners.
Some of them belong to New York and Boston. Mr.
Gordon's father and mine have been business associates in a
remote way. Mr. Gordon's brother carries on his father's
business. Mr. Ethan Gordon, who presents this to you, is a
brilliant newspaper writer who has a large following of
readers. May I presume to suggest that his friendly
understanding of your Administration would be of great
political value to you.

 I am, dear Mr. Lincoln, with most respectful and humble
salutations, the least of the secretaries,

ANNABEE FORD.

 Lincoln passed the letter to Hay. "Keep that with her
report, John." Then he turned to Gordon. "About that nasty
pun on Mr. Secretary Chase, you spread abroad as coming
from me. I don't like it, Mr. Gordon. It is not an open
sesame to my confidence."

 Gordon laughed. "But it was witty, you'll admit, Lincoln.
You ought to be glad to have it believed you fathered it. I'll
never give you away, if that's the angle of it you don't like."

 Lincoln's great hands twitched. "Open the door, John," he
ordered. With astounding quickness, one of his long arms
shot out. He seized Gordon by the coat collar, and twisted
him toward the door. Then he lifted his long leg in the
enormous carpet slipper, and a second later Gordon
catapulted into the midst of the astounded reporters milling
about Billy Stoddard's desk.

102 FOREVER FREE

 "There," sighed Lincoln, "that didn't do him a might of
harm, and it did me a lot of good. Let the others in now,
John."

 It was after he had finished a pleasant ten minutes with
the newspaper men that one of McClellan's aides, who had
witnessed Gordon's hasty departure from Lincoln's presence,
came in and ventured a comment.

 "Mr. President, that fellow Gordon is in a position to do
you a lot of harm, if he wants to. He's a popular war
correspondent."

"You know him wells" inquired Lincoln. "Like his stories?"

 "I've never met him, sir, though I suppose I shall. He's a
great friend of General McClellan's, and has free entrance
to his councils."

 "I'm sorry to hear that," was Lincoln's comment. "What
can I do for you, Captain?"

 "General McClellan wishes me to say, sir, that the forward
movement of the troops which you ordered for Monday
week is impossible. The enemy has at Manassas 130,000
troops while we number less than 8s,ooo. He earnestly
desires that you send him at least so,ooo more men."

 "My report from General Scott, yesterday," replied
Lincoln, quickly, "shows 155,000 of our troops on the other
side of the Potomac. Every line of transportation into
Washington is clogged with soldiers, and there are more to
come. McClellan feels that he has a lien on the best troops,
the best officers in the country. I have given them to him.
He has begged me to detach no troops or officers from his
command, no matter what the emergency elsewhere, or the
pressure brought to bear on me. I have acceded to his
request. He told me a week ago that he was ready to
destroy Beauregard. Now he asks for more troops."

 "And he must need them, if he says so, sir," said the
officer, earnestly. "He knows his business."

 "I am banking the resources of this country on the
people's faith in him," returned Lincoln, running his hands
through his hair. "God give him strength," he thought, "to
learn his business and give me patience to uphold his hands
while he does so." Then aloud, "Very well, he shall have his
men with what dispatch I can urge on General Scott."

 The Captain saluted, and turned briskly on his heels.
Lincoln, alone for a moment, brought his fist down on his
desk.

 "By jings, some one has got to mover If none of our
generals can, I'll learn how, myself.... Hello, Governor," as
Seward came in, hands full of papers.

 "Did I catch you talking to yourself, Mr. Lincoln?" smiling
as he dropped wearily into a chair. "Sure sign of senility, I've
heard."

 "Guess you've got me, Governor. I was cussing out our
military men. Looks like you and I would have to shoulder
a gun ourselves."

 "We'd make a fine pair of old vultures, Lincolnl But,
speaking of senility, that's really what's the matter with our
armed forces, east and west. Old Scott is doddering. Why
not get rid of him and put McClellan in his place. By the
gods, he is a young Napoleonl Scott is jealous of him and
one can scarcely blame himI"

FR1tMONT 103

 "George has got his hands full, I reckon, with the Army of
the Potomac, Governor. Let's see some results with that
before we boost the boy again."

"Nonsense! Boyl He's reached his full stature now."

 "Governor, what's he done besides train the green hands?
Why doesn't he move? Is he going to let the fall rains
interfere; and his campaign for the year end before it's
begun?" Lincoln, who had risen, took a seat on the Cabinet
table and caught Seward by his shoulders as he passed.
"Seward, I'm oppressed with evil foreboding this morning. I
am backing, and shall back, McClellan to the uttermost
limits. Am I right?"

 The Governor put both his hands affectionately on the
President's knees and gave him a clear look from his fine,
blue eyes.

 "You are absolutely right, Lincoln. Wise in your choice and
in your patience as you always are. Make McClellan
General-in-Chief, find him a Secretary of War in whom he
has confidence, and the war is won."

 Lincoln hesitated as he was learning to hesitate over
Seward's impulsive suggestions. He said slowly, "Scott has
already urged me to accept his resignation. McClellan has
affronted him needlessly, I fear I'll think about it. Yes yes,
I'll think about it."

 The two men remained staring at each other, then
Stoddard brought a message to Seward and he left. But it
was several moments before the President turned to his
waiting desk. Even then, for many minutes he sat pondering
on all he knew about George McClellan.

                CHAPTER XIV
               BALL S BLUFF

T INCOLN, that evening, sat long on the edge of Mary's bed,
discussing Miss Ford with her. He was much relieved when
Mary agreed with

 I him that the time had not yet arrived for turning the
detective police on the Virginian's trail. Mary was very sure
that, given time, she, with Lizzie and Jinny, could trace Miss
Ford's motives to their source. And thus the matter was left.

 When after three days, the Virginian returned from the
plantation and settled with great apparent happiness to her
light duties in the White House, Mary did not find it difficult
to treat her with friendliness. She liked Miss Ford, and, as
she admitted to herself, a little ruefully, the Virginian knew
how to play on her pet weakness, social ambition.

 Moreover, while Jinny's report was puzzling, it was not
particularly disquieting. Her mistress had met Captain
Taylor at the plantation. Miss Ford had chattered to him at
some length on the political situation in Missouri and
Kentucky, but most of their talk had been about McClellan
and the possibility of persuading Lincoln to make the
proposed visit to St. Louis, "where," Miss Ford had said, "he
will all unconsciously sow the seeds for the great harvest."

 Mary talked Jinny's story over with John Hay, and they
agreed to wait for the Virginian's next move, before
troubling the President again with the matter. What that
move might be, they did not guess until later in the autumn.
And then it was made with such frankness that they were
utterly disconcerted.

 In October, Miss Ford induced the mistress of the White
House to resume her weekly semi-public teas in the Blue
Room. Her scheme, she told Mary quite frankly, was to
entice the lion and the lamb to break bread together.

 "If word percolates to the influential centers of the South,"
she said, "that Mrs. Lincoln has no anti-slavery predilections,
as she shows by the fact that she invites some of the most
rabid pro-slavery wives to take a dish of tea with her, it will
do more to dissipate the horrid gossip about you, in
Washington, than anything I can think of."

 Mary, who was still suffering acutely under the derision
and insults of social Washington, was only too ready to
agree with the Virginian, and so the weekly teas flourished.
They were attended by a carefully chosen, but incongruous
crowd. Ladies who paraded their slaves in the shape of
negro maids in the very drawing rooms, rubbed shoulders
with ladies from Boston, who smiled at the maids, and
scowled at their mistresses. Ladies from New York affected
the large cosmopolitan manner toward both

BALL'S BLUFF lo;

factions, and ignored certain ladies from the Lincolns' home
town, who refused to be patronized by any one, particularly
by New Yorkers.

  Mary found these teas immensely amusing and inspiriting.
In fact, every one seemed to be complacent about them,
except Lizzie Keckley. She, vigorously attacking the exquisite
materials for which Mrs. Lincoln had made a trip to New
York, made no bones about expressing her disapproval.

  "You're giving those slavery folks exactly what they want,
Mrs. Lincoln," she said, one October afternoon, when she was
helping her mistress to dress for the weekly tea pouring.

  "What is it they want?" asked Mary, trying the effect first of
a black lace scarf on her red velvet frock, then of a crimson
India shawl.

  "They want to influence General McClellan, without him or
any other Northerner realizing it. He comes two or three
times a month to the teas, with his handsomest officers.. Then
Miss Ford, and any lady from Virginia or South Carolina or
Alabama can flatter him just the way they've been told to
flatter him, and give him any ideas about himself and Mr.
Lincoln they want him to get. Madam, you just watch and see
if it isn't the day after these tea parties that the President has
the hardest time with McClellan."

  "I have no way of learning that." Mary shrugged her
shoulders impatiently under the India shawl, on which she
finally had settled. '`Even if what you say is true, I don't see
how my stopping these teas will keep them from reaching
McClellan. They'd just go about it another way. And, Lizzie,
you've no idea how much these affairs have helped me,
personally. Why, it's been weeks since I've had an anonymous
letter, Stoddard says, with a Washington or Southern
postmark. And it's only rarely that I'm yelled at in the streets,
never any more by well dressed women."

  If the pathos of this plea struck Lizzie Keckley, she gave no
sign. She rose from her knees, she had been tying Mary's
sandals, and gave her an appraising look from her dark
eyes. "Just as soon as you told me about the things Miss Ford
and Mrs. Fremont said, that night, I felt that General
McClellan ought to be guarded against these these "
suddenly her dark face purpled-"these Southern witches. He's
a mighty good soldier they tell me, and you certainly ought to
help protect him, Mrs. Lincoln."

  "Oh, you are too officious, Lizziel" exclaimed Mary,
swishing from the room.

  Nevertheless, her conscience smote her that afternoon, as
she watched the handsome young general surrounded by the
usual group of vivacious women. She, herself, had never
changed her first impression of McClellan. She did not
believe in the disinterestedness of his motives. She feared his
ambition. She was convinced that he was afraid to fight. But
her husband trusted him, and his country idolized him. She
had no right, she told herself, to permit her social ambitions
to lay him open to undue influence. Troubled by these
thoughts she was impatient with Tad, when he came marching
into the drawing room in the uniform of an officer of the 715t

106 FOREVER FREE

Pennsylvania which Baker, the former Senator from Oregon,
now in the Army of the Potomac, had had made for the
child.

 "Run out, Taddie," she exclaimed. "No, you can't have
even a teaspoonful of tea."

 Tad's nerves jangled in response to hers. "You must give
an officeh whateveh he asks to'," he screamed, stamping his
foot. "Colonel Baka'll have you locked up. He told me no
one could boss me in these clothes."

 "Colonel Baker is our much loved friend," said Mary, with
a little smile, for the benefit of the listening women, "but he
mustn't put absurd ideas into your little head. Run out,
Taddiel"

 Tad made a grab at the cream jug and upset it on Mary's
red India shawl. He began to cry hysterically and his mother
rose hastily to take him from the room. She was furious with
the child. But she managed to control herself until she had
dragged Tad to the sanctuary of her own room, then she
spanked him soundly, sent him to bed, and felt the better
for it.

His screams brought Lincoln into the room, pen in hand.

 "Yes, I whipped him," exclaimed Mary in response to his
inquiring look, "and I'll thank you not to go coddling him.
He's a saucy, disobedient boy, and you're the one that
makes him so. Look at this shawll"

She held it up, giving as she did so a succinct history of
Tad's sins.

 "Is McClellan down there7" asked the President abruptly,
when she had finished.

 "Yes, surrounded by the usual bouquet of Southern
beauty," replied Mary.

 "He sent me word that he was too busy to come to a
Cabinet conference, this afternoon," mused Lincoln.
"Funny!"

 "Not funny at all," snapped Mary. "Quite in line with his
condescending manner to you. He's completely spoiled too.
I don't see why you endure it."

 "Mary, I'd hold McClellan's horse for him, if he'd win this
war for me. Nothing else matters." He looked at her with
grave sweetness.

 Mary dropped her shawl to the floor and threw her amms
about him. "Oh, Abratml Abra'ml You shame me, utterly!
I'm so trivial. But love me, dearest, love me in spite of ill
Love me for my big love for you, if for nothing else."

 Lincoln picked her up as if she had been Taddie, and,
holding her against his heart, he looked down into her eyes.

"You know that I love you," he said, tenderly.

 "But not as I love your Not with the feeling I have for
you." She hid her face against his heart.

 An expression of acute pain tightened the muscles of the
President's face, but he said nothing. He wondered if he
were capable any more of feeling toward any human being
in the world as Mary felt toward him,  if this ghastly
weight of responsibility could crowd out of his life forever
all intimate personal relations. Some day, he thought, when
there was more time, he would try to explain this to Mary.
But now, he must return

BALL'S BLUFF 107

to his rewriting of Seward's message to France on the cotton
blockade. Seward was too hasty in issuing ultimatums but, by
jings, he knew lawl

 He set Mary gently to her feet, and would have hurried
away, but she caught one finger in a buttonhole of his vest.

 "Abra'm, let me go downstairs and send McClellan up to
youl I'd like nothing better than a chance to do sol Two can
play at this errand-boy game. What McClellan needs is what
I just gave poor little Taddie."

 Lincoln smiled and shook his head. "No, thanks. I'll look
him up later in the evening. Let me go, dear Mary."

 "Just one thing more, Abra'ml I never get a moment alone
with you. At these teas of mine, there are, I think and
believe, emissaries of Jeff Davis, women who seek to flatter
McClellan into believing that he's a slave Unionist. Do you
wish me to cut off those affairs?"

"You get a lot of pleasure out of these tea fights, don't you,
Mary?"

"Yes, I do, but if you say stop, they stop, with no
recriminations."

 "I know of no better way to give McClellan his chance than
to give him all the rope he wants, Mary. After he's had his
fling, I think the real stuff in him will come out. Russell says
there's no better hand that he's ever seen at licking an army
into shape."

 Mary jerked firmly at the buttonhole. "Abra'm, I don't care
what William Russell or any one else says. McClellan is small
potatoes. You'll be able to win the other members of your
Cabinet, excepting possibly Chase, as you have Seward. But
you'll never win McClellan. You'll have to break him. And
you'll never win this war until all the men in power, civil and
military, recognize you as leader. What's that ode of
Horace's  'You must have a heart thrice bound with
bronze' chill your heart, dear Abra'm."

 He listened carefully. Mary, at her best, possessed acumen
that he dared not question. She dropped her hand from his
buttonhole. He nodded and turned away. Mary returned to
the Blue Room.

 The beautiful October days marched steadily toward the
rains of November. Washington was so packed with the
military, that, to the casual observer, it would seem that the
political significance of the sprawling, half-built little city was
entirely submerged. It seemed so, in very fact, to Lincoln as
he strove in vain to move McClellan toward the Rebels.

 Day after day slipped by,-the wonderful clear days of
Potomac autumn, with the sound of northing geese at night,
sailing high under the frosty stars, but not until the 315t of
the month, with the first November rain softening the clay
roads of Maryland and Virginia, did McClellan send word to
the President that he was about to make a strong recon-
naissance up the Potomac toward Leesburg.

 It was not much, but better than nothing, thought Lincoln,
and set himself patiently to await results. Perhaps, perhaps
the Rebels would face McClellan in battle. But in spite of the
President's hopes, the reconnaissance would have been only
a reconnaissance had not General Stone, in crossing the river,
stumbled upon a fight. A light engagement followed

108 FOREVER FREE

in which 49 Union men were killed, with too and missing.
There was about an equal loss on the Rebel side with no
gain to either.

 Lincoln received word of the skirmish in the war office,
with keen hopes that it might develop into a battle of
decisive proportions. But McClellan ordered the
reconnaissance withdrawn, and, to the President's bitter
disappointment, the old stalemate recommenced.

The morning after the battle, Nicolay brought in a pile of
newspapers.

  "That may have been only a skirmish at Ball's Bluff, from
the military point of view," he remarked to the President,
"but politically it was a holocaust."

  Lincoln was learning not to read the papers for news. "Do
I have to hear that, George7" he asked.

  Nicolay nodded. "Greeley demands that this
inconsequential waste of blood and treasure cease. Seems
that many of the 49 boys who were killed were socially very
prominent in Massachusetts and New York. They are frantic
over what they term the useless sacrifice of Senator Baker.
It's another Bull Run, I guess."

  "Baker was one of my dearest friends," said Lincoln, "but
I don't think his blood was one ounce more precious than
that of one of those poor boys who never put foot in the
Senate, or in Massachusetts or New York."

  Nicolay nodded. "Of courser But one can't make political
capital out of that fact. As it is, our very best families are
claiming that this would never have happened were you and
General Scott not so hampering McClellan that he cannot
make a decisive movement."

  "I seer" Lincoln ran his fingers through his hair. "Well, I'm
not sorry they're taking it that way. I think this will ease the
old gentleman out of his job about as naturally as a fall
flood moves one of those old log rafts that gets stranded on
a sand bar. We'll see."

  Nicolay blinked for a moment then, with a little smile,
carried his pile of newspapers back into his own office..

  Colonel Baker was given a military funeral in Washington.
Willie and Tad, heartbroken over the loss of their friend,
insisted that they would march in their uniforms with the
soldiers, and not ride in the carriage with their father. And
this they did, in spite of their mother's protest that they
inevitably would get into trouble. As usual, she was right.

  Late in the afternoon, about an hour after the President
had returned from the funeral, William Russell appeared at
the sitting-room door, a boy holding either hand. Miss Ford
and Mary were sitting by the table, embroidering, and
awaiting the announcement of supper. Lincoln, passing
through on his way to his room, pulled up with a sharp
exclamation.

"Trouble, eh?"

  Russell advanced into the light with the two boys. His eyes
looked angry, yet he was smiling. He was, as usual, well
groomed, but the children's uniforms appeared to have been
replaced by dirty rags. Tad had been crying but Willie
showed no traces of tears. He looked at his father.

"Papa day, I was ashamed of America, this afternoon. I was."

BALL'S BLUFF 109

"What did she do?" asked his father, gravely.

 "Well, it was like mother said, we couldn't march good with
the soldiers. So we ran ahead of the parade to find a good
place to watch. And in front of Mr. Russell's windows, Mr.
Russell, he was standing with the crowd on the curb. So we
pushed in and stood beside him. And when the gun carriage
went by, with Uncle Baker in it, why, Mr. Russell took off his
hat, and made us take off ours. And nobody else did, and
then, when your carriage went by, Mr. Russell took off his hat
again, and made us too, but nobody else did."

 "We didn't want to, so awful much, just lo' you, Papa day,"
interjected Tad, wiping his nose on his bloody sleeve.

 "Shut up, Tadl I did too, only I always forget. And a big tall
man next to Mr. Russell said, 'What in hell you think you
arel'"

 "That was because Mista 'Ussel said in a loud voice,"
amended Tad, "that we'd gotta show a gentleman's 'espect fo'
the dead, and fo' the head of the United States."

 Willie scowled. "If you don't keep quiet, Tad, I'll hit you.
And Mr. Russell said to the man, 'I think I'm a man that has
better manners than you have.' And some one of the crowd
said, 'That's the bloody Britisher that called our soldiers
cowards when he wrote to his home paper about Bull Run.'
And somebody else yelled, 'Bull Run Russelll He rotten-
egged our soldiers! Tar and feather himl' And some one hit
him, and we all began to fight. And us, Taddie and me and
Mr. Russell, licked the whole gang. Then he went in and got
cleaned up, but we couldn't because we all wanted you to see
our honorable scars."

 'The blessed babies!" murmured Mary, then aloud, "But
what were you ashamed of, Willie, the Americans' bad
manners, or the fact that a Britisher and two boys licked
theme"

 "Of the licking," replied Willie promptly. "Just look at this
scratch on my arm, mother."

"My nose has bled all oveh my gullet," observed Tad.

 "Gullet! Why gullets" asked Mary, examining her youngest's
tattered shirt, with a sigh.

"A gullet is a kind of coat solda's used to weah, motheh,"
explained Tad.

 "He means a doublet," explained Willie. "There, Mr.
Russell, I told you mother wouldn't be mad if you brought us
in. Come on, Tad, let's get cleaned up."

 "I think Russell is the one that's mad," said Lincoln, giving
the war correspondent a keen look.

 "It was an humiliating experience." Russell shook his head.
"I am convinced that the hue and cry raised against me will
end my usefulness to my paper in this country. McClellan
dare not give me a correspondent's privileges. And all
because I gave what McClellan and McDowell both declare
are the plain facts about that wretched rout of your troops at
Bull Run. I'm hissed in the streets. My life is threatened
daily."

"I don't understand it," exclaimed Miss Ford.

o FOREVER FREE

 "That's simple." Lincoln sat down by the table and
unfolded a crumpled paper which he took from his pocket.
"At first our own reporters told the truth too. That made the
public so mad that all the papers began to backwater. Pretty
soon everybody's vanity about the Army of the Potomac was
being bolstered by regular doses of taffy. Then along came
a copy of Russell's letter to the London Times, once more
calling attention to our disgrace. So there's nothing to be
done, but call Russell every kind of a liar."

"The newspapers of this country are terrible!" exclaimed
Mary.

 "M. Mercier remarked to me the other day," said Russell,
"that he supposed that I was going to stay in Washington
forever, because the New York papers all were announcing
that I was leaving immediately for Londonl"

 "I don't think people are so sensitive about what they call
your errors in what you wrote." Mary looked at the
Englishman, thoughtfully. "It was the tone you used. It didn't
sound friendly. You wrote de haut en teas. What we need is
a breath of strengthening sympathy from old England, not
to be looked down on and sneered at by her."

 Russell flushed darkly. After a short pause, he said,
"Perhaps I deserve that, Mrs. Lincoln, but it's very difficult,
really, to write in praise of conditions one knows to be
needlessly bad. As for sympathy! The Federal government
will get none of that from Great Britain, until it declares this
to be a war to end slavery."

 "Why do you say that, Mr. Russell?" demanded Miss Ford,
"when you know perfectly well that the South and England
are inherently sympathetic, always have been."

 Lincoln cleared his throat. He had no desire to listen
again to a discussion of slavery. Ever since Fremont's
proclamation had been abrogated, he had been hounded by
Abolitionists. "Speaking of sympathy," he began, hastily, "I
had a very great pleasure to-day. It seems that John Hay
isn't the only poetic genius in the Executive Mansion. Willie
dropped this into my pocket this noon." He put on his
spectacles and with his charming intonation he gave them
Willie's first poem:

   LINES ON T1IE DEATrl OF COLONEL BAKER

There was no patriot like Baker So noble and so true; He
fell as a soldier on the field His face to the sky of blue.
His voice is silent in the hall Which oft his presence
graced; No more he'll hear the loud acclaim Which rang
from place to place.

No squeamish notions filled his breast
The Union was his theme;
No surrender and no compromise

 BALL'S BLUFF          1 l l

His day-thought and night's dream. His country has her
part to pay To'ards those he left behind; His widow and
his children all She must ever keep in mind.

 The tears were running down the President's cheeks as
he finished. He smiled however at the little round of
applause and at Mary's excited demand to see the paper.
He handed it to her with the remark:

"By sings, there's more than uncombed snarls in that boy's
headl"

 Supper was announced at that moment. Lincoln rescued
the paper from Mary, and lagged behind the others to read
the verses to Louis, who wiped his eyes and blew his nose.

 "Can't say, sir," he said huskily, "whether I'm crying over
Colonel Baker or Willie."

 "Same herel" agreed Lincoln. "I wish Baker could hear
the verses, himself, don't you, Louis7"

"I do, indeed!" agreed the messenger.

                CHAPTER XV
        TIlESTRUGGLE FOR SUPREMACY

ENERAL SCOTT, to Nicolay's complacent amusement, called
on the President, a few days after Baker's funeral, and
formally tendered his resignation.

  "I am tired, sir," said the old soldier. "I am old, and I
suffer continuously from an old hurt. Also, I suffer, Mr.
President, from the insubordinate spirit shown me by
General McClellan. I might almost say that he heaps
contumely upon me."

  Lincoln was much touched. "When I consider your years,
your infirmities, and your well-earned glories, General, my
conscience smites me for the heavy burdens I have imposed
on you, lately. But, my dear General, where was I to turn?
There is no one else in these United States in whose military
judgment I have such confidence. I can accept your
resignation only on one consideration, that you agree that I
may come to you at any time for advice."

  Scott's downcast face brightened. "Certainly, sir! You do
me honor, Mr. President. It is with deep regret that I
withdraw in such momentous times from the orders of a
Chief Executive who has treated me with distinguished
kindness and courtesy."

  "Even at that, I couldn't keep your pace, Generall" Lincoln
smiled. In a moment, he told himself, he'd be pulling his
forelock. "And now, sir, before you leave, I wish to tell you
that I've actually sent General Fremont his walking papers.
I still think well of Fremont's impulses, I only think he is the
prey of wicked and designing men, and I think he has
absolutely no military capacity. There'll be another scream
from the radicals, I suppose, over the dismissal, but that has
to be."

  "Your decision is wise, sir. It's a pity you have to make
these changes, continually, but it is one of the many prices
we pay for maintaining no standing army. I hesitate to say it,
sir, and would not, if I were not out of office, that I believe
that, while Cameron was a wise political choice, he is not
well fitted to be Secretary of War."

  Lincoln nodded, a little heavily. Cameron was a charming
gentleman, and he liked him. But the public suspected him
of being swayed by the money interests, and it was true that
he lacked the executive ability needed for the present
emergency.

  "I'm thinking about putting Edwin M. Stanton in his
place," he said, watching Scott's face.

  The General blinked and coughed. "An able and irascible
man, sir, and your very vociferous enemy."

"Shucks! Mighty few who aren't my enemies, General. His
integrity is

THE STRUGGLE FOR SUPREMACY 113

only equated intelligence. And the public has confidence in
him. Folk are uneasy, these days, and they have a right to be.
Think him over, and I'll come up to talk to you about him
soon." He took the old man's hand. "I'll see that you are kept
informed of what goes on down here. I'm sorry not to be able
to give you full relief but we still need that wise head-piece
of yours. So, while officially, I say, Good-byl unofficially,
what's your New Jersey address?"

 General Scott smiled, delightedly. "I'll see that you receive
it, Mr. President, as soon as Mrs. Scott and I are settled."

 And Lincoln noted, with satisfaction not unmixed with a
tender sort of sympathy, that the old soldier's limp was less
as he left the office than it had been when he came in.

 The pressure brought to bear on Lincoln to place
McClellan in Scott's position was almost unbelievable.
McClellan was an ardent Democrat. Yet Greeley, the
Republican, gave Lincoln no rest in his behalf, and the
Northern Democrats, with Raymond of the New York Times
as their mouthpiece, hounded him editorially, while literally
thousands of telegrams demanded McClellan as
General-in-Chief.

 More than all else, his anxiety to unite the uneasy North in
a vigorous war spirit moved Lincoln to make the
appointment. A sigh of relief and approval went up from the
whole country, when he announced McClellan's promotion;
a sigh so deep and full, that even the anger of the Abolition
forces over Fremont's dismissal, which Lincoln adroitly per-
mitted to become known at the same time, could not
seriously impair the President's momentary popularity with all
sides.

 Lizzie Keckley, about the first of November, reported to
Mary that Miss Ford, who had spent a week-end ostensibly
with friends in Baltimore, had actually attended a celebration
of some sort, at the tavern at Fairfax Courthouse. The host
of this celebration, Jinny had told Lizzie, was a dashing and
"powerful smart" Rebel officer, Captain Mosby. The purpose
of the celebration was confused in Jinny's mind. She thought
that the Battle of Ball's Bluff was the cause. Yet she had
heard her mistress propose a toast to General McClellan, the
hope of both North and South.

 Mary tried to talk this toast over with Lincoln one evening
in November, when she caught him alone for a moment at
supper. But he was sweating that day under the first news of
the intricate problem developing with England, as a result of
the Trent affair, and he begged her not to bother him. Mary
remarked that she would never mention McClellan's name to
him again, but was glad the next moment, as she realized
what deep harassment lay in his eyes, that Lincoln probably
had not heard her peevish retort.

 He had not. Nevertheless, Mary's constant jabbing him with
her dislike for McClellan did not leave him unperturbed.
Now and again, after she had launched one of her darts at
the General, he was conscious of a strange sense of
helplessness, a fear that the treachery which lurked in every
aspect of the slavery question was too gigantic for his mind
to grasp.

114 FOREVER FREE

McClellan's careless contempt toward himself, his frank
scomof the Cabinet members, which was shown most bitterly
toward Cameron, made Lincoln uneasy.

 The "Anaconda" plan, backed by Scott, the Cabinet, and
himself, McClellan ignored. The plan of movement for the
armies in Tennessee and Kentucky, as well as those in the
States along the Mississippi, which Lincoln had worked out,
and which were later to be proved models of military and
political skill, McClellan laughed at. Men of real ability were
emerging from the chaos in the middle-west, Sherman,
Thomas, Hunter, Halleck. Lincoln desired that their talents
be put to work at once. They were not.

 Again, and yet again, during the early days of November,
the President urged his plans on McClellan, but they were
ignored. Nothing happened. A black lethargy seemed to hold
the army East and West in a nightmare's spell. At last,
Lincoln no longer could endure McClellan's silence. One
evening toward the middle of November, he gathered up
John Hay, led him across the street to Seward's house,
gathered up the Secretary of State, and started for
McClellan's house on H Street.

 "Of course," remarked Seward, puffing good humoredly on
his usual cigar, "I like to be a good fellow, myself, but why,
with all you and I have to do, to say nothing of our young
poet, should we wait on McClellan7 I've got to get that reply
to Lord Russell on the Trent affair into Lord Lyon's hands
to-night. You've torn it limb from limb, and time will be
needed to put the remnants together, Mr. Presidentl"

 Lincoln laughed and flung his arm over Seward's
shoulders. "We go to McClellan, Governor, because
McClellan is too proud to wait on a couple of old cart
horses like you and me."

 "McClellan is a brilliant soldier, and I love him,"
commented Seward, "but he's riding a horse several hands
too high, I fear."

 "If he's as able as a military man as I guess him to be
unable as a politician, he'll end the war before he ruins the
country, I hope."

Seward gasped. "And what do you mean by that, Lincoln7"

"Just what I said," replied the President.

 There was silence, while the three men tramped
thoughtfully along the tree shadowed street, so badly lighted
that they were obliged to move slowly. John Hay, who felt
keenly McClellan's discourtesies toward Lincoln, broke the
silence, and changed the subject.

 "Mr. Lincoln, may I ask how you got rid of that committee
of Senators, this afternoons They asked for an hour with
you, and they came tumbling out in twenty minutes."

 "Senator Trumbull and his gang, eh7 They didn't want
muchl Just said they heard I was going to change the
Secretary of War, and that, as the entire Cabinet had lost
the confidence of the country, they thought it an opportune
moment to change all seven of the Cabinet ministers. I
couldn't think of a better answer than to tell them a story.
I told it and they left."

"What was the story?" asked Seward.

THE STRUGGLE FOR SUPREMACY 115

 Lincoln chuckled. "Out on the Sangamon, there was a
farmer much troubled by skunks, and his wife insisted he try
to get rid of them. So, one moonlight night, he loaded his old
shotgun and stationed himself in the yard. Waiting in the
house, his wife heard the gun go off and in a few minutes, the
farmer came in.

"'What luck did you have7' said she.

 "'I hid behind the woodpile,' said he, 'with the shotgun
pointed toward the hen roost, and along came, not one
skunk, but sevenl I took aim, blazed away, and killed one.
But he raised such a fearful stink I concluded it was best to
let the other six alone!"'

 The trio was still chuckling when McClellan's home was
reached. The servant told them that the General was
attending a wedding. Lincoln declared in favor of waiting, and
led the way into the parlor. An hour later, McClellan
appeared in the hall, where the three visitors heard the
servant apprise him of Lincoln's presence. McClellan brushed
by and ascended the stairs. Another quarter of an hour
passed. Then the President sent the servant to remind
General McClellan of his presence. Much embarrassed, the
man returned almost immediately.

 "The General has gone to bed, sir, and sends word that he's
too tired to see you to-night."

"Good Godl" exclaimed Seward, starting to his feet.

 Lincoln laid his hand on the Governor's arm and smiled
gravely at John Hay. "Come, boys, we'll go home," he said.

He did not speak during the return to the Executive Mansion.

 And he was in no amenable mood when, about eleven
o'clock that evening, Miss Ford came into his office. She and
Mary had been to the "heater, and while Mary went to see
that the children were properly in bed, the Virginian
embraced the opportunity to drop in on him. She wore an
evening gown of green velvet, trimmed with many yards of
green beaded fringe. A little green silk hood covered her hair.
She removed this, as she sank into a chair by the fire.

Lincoln looked up, pen in hand.

 "Mr. President, I've never had a chance to tell you how
grieved I was that you and young Gordon, whom I sent to
you, didn't seem to agree."

"You put it mildly, Miss Fordl" Lincoln smiled grimly.

 She returned the smile. "I reckon that's best, isn't its Are
you still cross at him, Mr. Lincoln?"

"Did he give you an inkling of what happened?" asked the
President.

 "No, sir, but John Hay did. I'm so sorry. Not only that
Gordon annoyed you, but that he's made it difficult for me to
ask you a favor for his brother, Nathaniel P. Gordon."

 "Don't know the fellow!" declared Lincoln. "What's he
dories Run away from sentry duty7"

 "Nol Nothing so simple as thatl He's been convicted as a
slave trader by the New York courts, and the fool of a judge
has sentenced him to be hanged!"

6 FOREVER FREE

 "Why not?" demanded Lincoln, tangling his legs in the
rounds of his chair, and smoothing his hair with an ivory
paper knife, while he wondered just what sort of an
admission the Virginian was now trying to pry from him

 "It's not fairl" she cried. "Some Abolitionist district
attorney has invoked that old law of 18~0, prohibiting slave
trade. It never has been enforced. Why should those devilish
Abolitionists be allowed to make political capital out of this
poor fellow? Convict him, and you ought to convict a
hundred others."

"Why note" repeated Lincoln, wearily.

  "Because it's an absurd law, absurdly applied. And Gordon
has a wife and baby."

  Lincoln gave her a long, wistful look. "My dear Miss Ford,"
he said, sadly, "this is a sorry sort of business for you. You
were meant for higher work, surely. You knew before you
came in that your request was an improper one, an affront
to all I hold sacred. The Attorney General's office is the
proper place for you to go, anyhow."

  The Virginian flushed deeply, and there was softness in her
violet eyes that Lincoln never before had seen there.

  "Does it make any real difference to you, Mr. Lincoln?"
she asked, clasping her hands.

  "Certainly it does," he replied stoutly. "I hate to see a
friend go on the wrong track.... Now don't waste your time
and mine on Gordon. A slave trader just isn't human,
according to my notions."

  "But you don't understand one angle of this, Mr. Lincoln.
You have made a dangerous enemy in the younger Gordon.
If you reprieve his brother, he will be your friend. And I tell
you, young Gordon is dangerous. The story of what you did
to him has gotten out, and he is being laughed out of
Washington."

  "By jingsl" exclaimed Lincoln, wonderingly, "I reckon it's
foreordained you and I are not to understand each other.
Now I don't see how a lady of intelligence could say such a
thing to met"

  "I understand you, well enough," retorted Miss Ford, half
bitterly, and half sadly. The flush slowly lifted from her face,
leaving it very pale in the firelight. "I sometimes wonder,"
she said, with even more than her usual drawl, "if this is not
my punishment: to have grown to understand you so well.
You are a very fine human being, Abraham Lincoln."

  "Well," his eyes twinkling, "I reckon I'm fine enough not to
run to cover when Gordon shakes his pen at me. It's getting
pretty late, Miss Ford, and I've still a day's work to do."

  He nodded at her and turned back to his desk, hoping that
she would go without further remarks. If she was now
determined to try the personal role with him, well, he'd
give her no chance, that was all.

  He began to write. He was working on a bill for the
Delaware legislature, a bill for the gradual and Compensated
Abolishment of the slaves of that State A Member of
Congress from Delaware had given him hope that

THE STRUGGLE FOR SUPREMACY 117

the bill might go through, for Delaware was really more
Northern than Southern. Miss Ford did not move, and finally
conscious of that fact, he looked up to say:

  "What would you and your friend Jefffie Davis say if I try
to get through a bill for Compensated Abolishment in the
various State legislatures?"

  "I'd say what you said to me, a short time ago, or words to
that effect, 'How can a man of your intelligence be such a
fool'?" Miss Ford's voice had all its old sardonic flavor.

  Lincoln chuckled and returned to his work, forgetting the
Virginian again, but with his mind not wholly given over to
the abolishment of slavery. One corner of his brain was
repeating a warning to him that he knew he ought to heed:
that McClellan's last affront was an insult which he could
ignore if he wished as far as it was meant personally, but
which he had no right to condone, inasmuch as it was an
insult to his high office. He ceased to write and stared into
space.

  He did not see Miss Ford when she trailed from the room.
John Hay put his head in the door with a question, and when
Lincoln did not answer, said to some one behind him, "The
Tycoon must be making war medicine." Old Daniel came in
to turn out the light, said "Good evening! Beg pardon," and
tiptoed out, and still Lincoln did not rouse from his
preoccupation with McClellan. Mary came, about two o'clock,
and taking him by the hand, led him to bed.

  The following morning shortly after breakfast McClellan's
aide appeared with the information that the General-in-Chief
would be glad to see the President at his house, where the
Secretary of the Navy wished to hold a conference on an
expedition against New Orleans.

  Lincoln was sitting at his desk, with Willie beside him. He
was helping the boy compose a letter to the editor of The
National Republican, to whom he wanted the youngster to
send his poem on Colonel Baker.

  When the aide had delivered his message, Lincoln affixed
an elaborate title line to Willie's verses before he said shortly:

"Tell McClellan I'm not coming."

  The aide raised his eyebrows, saluted, and departed. Willie
turned to stare up into his father's face.

"What are you mad at McClellan for, Papa day7"

"What makes you think I'm mad, Willie?" asked Lincoln.

  "Hoi I always know. Anybody does. And you'd ought to
have been mad at him long ago, I guess." The child, with his
moving likeness to his father, nodded his head, deliberately.
"I heard Mr. Sumner tell Miss Ford it was nauseating the way
you let McClellan sauce you. Papa day," very thoughtfully,
"why doesn't Miss Ford want you and Mr. Sumner to be
friends7"

  Lincoln gave the boy a keen glance. Willie, always old for
his age, had matured astoundingly since March.

  "I reckon you're biting off more than you can chew on that
guess, Willie."

"No, I'm not, Papa dayl You see I do sentry duty in uniform
every

118 FOREVER FREE

week at mother's tea in the Blue Room. I have to walk up
and down the hall, and watch all the folks that go in. And
Miss Ford stands by the curtains that hang over the hall
door, to meet folks and introduce them to mother. And all
I have to do is to stand still on the hall side of the curtain,
and I can hear everything she says. And twice I've heard her
tell things to Mr. Sumner that would make him think you
was his enemy."

 "For instance!" Lincoln's thoughts took a leap. He recalled
being conscious that the Senator from Massachusetts lately
had been harshly critical, less helpful. Better call him in on
this Trent affair. Knew more about English thought than
Seward, had the confidence of the English people after his
years of residence there. Sumner would be a better man to
visit London now than Thurlow Weed, Seward's choice

 Willie was going on. "She said that you didn't 'preciate
mother's brain. She said you left mother alone too much.
She said she guessed you didn't think much of mother and
Mr. Sumner always talking French together. She said she
knew from living intimately here, that you never would back
up an, you know, a law for setting the slaves free. And
she said you were the smartest politician in America and
would listen to anybody, and use anybody, and then throw
them away."

"You have a good memory, boy," said Lincoln.

  "She said lots more I don't remember and those ain't the
exact words," admitted Willie.

  "She's tutoring you boys in what reading, writing, and
'rithmetic?" asked his father.

  "Not arithmetic, Mr. Langley does that. She's giving us
elocution lessons, writing, French and German. She does
know a lot for a woman, doesn't she, Papa dayl"

  "She's a queer mixture," mused the President. "Guess
maybe she's a trouble maker, and I'd better get your mother
to send her home."

  "I don't know what mother'd do without her. She keeps
company going for mother, and she's awful nice to us boys.
I like her, only I wish she didn't talk that way. Now, if
mother has anything to say, she speaks right out in meeting.
Folks get mad at her, but they always get over it, because
she's she's "

  "Open and above board." Lincoln helped him out. "That's
right, we can all trust dear little peppery mother."

  Father and son nodded their heads in comfortable unison.
"I tell you what, Papa day, mother's awful sharp about
finding folks out. If you try to make her get rid of Miss
Ford, she'll raise Cain, I suppose. But if you give her time
she'll find Miss Ford out and tend to her, herself.
Gosh" with a chuckle "hope I'm there when things bustl"

  Lincoln joined in the chuckle, reminiscently. "AII right,
Willie, we'll let it stand that way for a while. In the
meantime, yes, what is it, John?" as young Hay came in.

  "Brigadier Van Vliet of McClellan's staff, sir, wishes for a
few moments' interview."

THE STRUGGLE FOR SUPREMACY 119

 "It's lesson time for you, Willie, so march," said Lincoln,
kissing the child several times, and watching him, with tender,
brooding gaze until the door slammed after him. "Show the
Brigadier in, John," rising to warm his hands at the fire.

 A handsome, upstanding officer clanked into the room and
saluted. Lincoln pulled the grey shawl over his shoulders, and
deliberately lifted a foot in rumpled wool sock and carpet
slipper to the blaze.

 "I feel these first fall days moretn I will the real winter,
Brigadier," he remarked.

 The officer nodded, with a supercilious glance at the shabby
legs dangling before the blaze; which glance did not escape
the President's eye.

 "Mr. President, General McClellan believes that you did not
understand the purport of his previous message. This is the
conference which you yourself called with regard to the
military and naval plan which you, yourself, sponsor."

 "I called last night at General McClellan's house to talk that
plan over with him, Brigadier."

"Yes, sir?" The officer's voice was tentative.

 "That's all, Brigadier. Fine clear weather we're havingl
Good fighting weather I'd call it. Virginia roads are in prime
condition for marching."

 Brigadier Van Vliet flushed, saluted, and turned away.
There was no smile on Lincoln's face, as he watched that stiff
back disappear into the reception room.

 He was deep in conference with Seward and Chase over the
floating of a new bond issue, not long before the noon hour,
when George Nicolay came in.

"General McClellan is in my office, sir, demanding to see you,
at once."

'Yell him I'm busy, George," replied Lincoln.

 Chase spoke quickly, "I'm sure Governor Seward and I will
both gladly withdraw in favor of the General."

 "I'm not so sure, Chase, of that fact," said Seward, placidly
turning over a pile of notes.

 'The subject of this conference is in my province, sir," Chase
threw his handsome head up quickly, "and if I am willing to
end it you have nothing to say."

 "Still strong for McClellan, aren't you, Chasel" interpolated
Lincoln a little wearily. The friction between Seward and
Chase made a consultation with the two extremely wearing. "It
won't hurt him to cool his heels for a while."

 "If he cools theml" smiled Seward. Adding as the door burst
open, and McClellan strode in, "Which he won'tl"

 "Mr. Lincoln," demanded the General, "why am I subjected
to the sort of treatment you have visited on me this morning?"
He stamped up to the table, and paused opposite Lincoln, his
gloved hand caught in his yellow sash, the other thrust into
the breast of his blue uniform, a picture of the perfect officer.

120 FOREVER FREE

 "You know, McClellan, I didn't have a West Point
education," replied the President, "so I'm lacking in a certain
polish of manner I could have got there. My wife says she's
about given up my manners, in fact, so I'm looking
elsewhere for my training. Now you are a West Pointer and
a society man, and I've decided to pattern my etiquette after
yours for a while."

 He paused, watching the young General through
half-closed, steel grey eyes. Anger and resentment struggled
to free themselves from the tight grip of McClellan's lips.
Lincoln brought his bony fist down on the Cabinet table.

 "You insulted the high office in me, last night, General.
Don't repeat the offence, sir." He turned to Nicolay, who
had remained standing near the door. "George, send for
Welles to come over here. You gentlemen will excuse me,
won't you, if I take up another matter now7" looking from
Seward to Chase.

 Seward, with a twinkle in his fine eyes, replied meekly,
"Yes, Mr. President," and rose.

 Chase, who was a great admirer of McClellan's, obviously
was bursting to speak up for his favorite, but something in
Lincoln's eye which he never before had observed there,
caused the Secretary of the Treasury to gather up his papers
and depart in utter silence.

 McClellan walked to a window and stood with his back to
the room. Lincoln wrote busily for a little while. Then he
said urbanely:

 "By the way, General, I see you've refused to make good
my appointment of Halleck in Fremont's job. Guess you'd
better tend to that, hadn't you?"

 Without turning, McClellan replied, "I've got a better man
in view. In the meantime, Hunter will do."

 "Halleck," said Lincoln, "is a man of more war experience
than yourself. He has had long training in organisation. He
is an authority on military art and science, as his book
proves. Some one has got to get those fellows out West to
pulling together, or their armies will eat their own heads
off. Scott wanted Halleck to have your job, but I agreed with
the. public that your youth and general brilliancy were a
better bet. The conditions in the West are bad. You need
Halleck there."

 McClellan whirled round. "You try my patience beyond my
strength, Mr. Lincoln."

 "Oh, you're a pretty strong fellow, according to my guessl"
Lincoln smiled. "Reckon you'd better fix that up with
Halleck, George."

 McClellan began to walk the floor. "You turn over to me
a mob of gutter-snipes and farm boys to make into an army;
then you nag me continually, without waiting either for
equipment or training, to give battle to the enemy. Next you
turn over to me all the armies of the country,  an
untrained rabble, honeycombed by the machinations of
politicians, and demand again that I close in on the Rebels,
at the same time handicapping me by imposing on me
officers in whom I have no confidence.

THE STRUGGLE FOR SUPREMACY 121

You, sir, utterly ignorant of the most ordinary military facts
are doing thisl"

 "In a kind of a way what you say is true, George. But the
fact remains that I'm the head of this government, and it's
also a fact that two men can't drive the same horse at the
same time."

 John Hay opened the door to admit Welles and Cameron.
In a moment, the four men were bending over a map, while
Lincoln explained the theory of a joint land and naval
operation that should open the Mississippi from Cairo to the
Gulf. "Tightening up the Anaconda," he called it.

 Cameron and Welles were enthusiastically for it. McClellan,
with illconcealed contempt, declared the plan to be
premature, and that he would not detail a single regiment
from the eastern forces for such a movement. There was a
long argument, interrupted once or twice by different
messengers sent by Mary to urge the President to come to
dinner. During the last half hour, Lincoln permitted
McClellan to do most of the talking, and it was with a sick
feeling of anxiety that he listened. And yet, he thought,
McClellan was brilliant, was not to be beaten in his skill as an
organiser, and there was not a soldier in the Army of the
Potomac who did not adore "Little Mac." Once let him
overcome his strange inertia, and his compact, loyal fighting
unit would be unstoppable. But why that strange inertia?
Mary said McClellan was a coward, but he was willing to take
his oath that McClellan was a brave man.

 Suddenly he rose, and ran his fingers through his hair. "I
shall issue an order this afternoon," he said, "directing that
preparations for the joint movement be begun at once. And
now I'm going to my dinner. By the way, George," pausing
with his hand on the door knob, "I shall have some special
instructions for Halleck as soon as he takes over his job," and
he closed the door firmly behind him.

CHAPTER XVI

             TnE VACANT CIIAIR

  tARY'S unremitting efforts to care for the President's
health were iVl abetted by Miss Ford as winter came on and
the strain on him

     increased. Not that Miss Ford busied herself with the
matter of his food and sleep. She kept to her own line, and
saw to it that entertainments of a kind attractive to Lincoln
were within his reach when he needed them most.

  Mary watched her rather grimly, wondering how long her
own patience would last. She had agreed with Lizzie Keckley
that it would be best for her not to talk to Jinny, but to
allow Lizzie to be the repository of all the information the
colored girl could gather in.

  Certainly Lizzie's gleanings were sufficiently varied to keep
one far less vitally interested than Mary Lincoln on the qui
vive.

  Miss Ford wrote long letters to Horace Greeley and to
Henry Raymond, purporting to report on the condition of
the Slave Unionists in the South. Each letter, Jinny said,
spoke a good deal about McClellan, and the growing
confidence of the Slave Unionists in his ability as a soldier,
and his fair attitude toward slavery.

  Miss Ford was seeing a good deal of Senator Sumner at
different houses to which they both were invited, and always
told him any uncouth anecdotes she could recall or
improvise regarding Lincoln's doings.

  Mary flew into a fury at this last. Lizzie was washing her
hair for her, and Mary jerked from her hands. With dripping
head, she started for the door. "I shall attend to that hussy
this moment," she cried through set teeth.

  Lizzie ran to interpose her strong body between Mary and
the scene which Willie had hoped to witness.

  "Madaml MadamI" she pleaded. "So much depends on
your keeping a still tongue. You must wait like the President
said until we find out how much of a hold her people can
get on General McClellan. If I can't trust you to keep your
temper, who can I go to?"

  "I'm a fool, Lizzie7" replied Mary, shortly. "I'll do all my
exploding to you. But," she added, as the dressmaker began
to dry her hair, "I don't like her efforts at coddling Mr.
Lincoln. That's my job. Isn't that his step now, in his roomy"

  Her question was answered by Lincoln's opening the door.
He came in slowly and dropped down on the sofa.

"My head aches," he said, with a sigh. "Did I eat dinner this
noons"

  "Yes, you did, Abra'm. You're worn out, that's what's the
matter with you. Lie down and let Lizzie rub your poor
head." Mary took the fan

THE VACANT CHAIR 1~3

with which the coloredwoman was drying her hair. "Go to him,
Lizzie." Lincoln smiled up at Lizzie. "I haven't time, Lizzie.
Senator Sumner is waiting for me now."

 "Just let me give you five minutes, Mr. President," pleaded
Lizzie. "I know I can help you."

 "My tiredness is inside me, where you can't get at it," sighed
Lincoln, "but just to prove that I'm taking care of my health!"
He smiled again and lay back on the sofa.

Lizzie began to pass her fine hands over his forehead.

"I suppose Sumner is interested in that Trent affair,"
suggested Mary.

"Yes," murmured Lincoln.

 "Abratm, just what is that Trent affair? You never tell me
anything any more," pleaded Mary.

 "The Trent affair is my pet bug-a-boo, right now," groaned
Lincoln. "It's not easy to explain. Two Americans sent by
Jefferson Davis as envoys to England were forcibly taken off
the British ship, Trent, by an American war steamer. In
mistaken enthusiasm, Secretary Welles, the House of
Representatives and the Northern press approved most
vociferously of the act. England says that unless we return the
prisoners within a given time she'll declare war, or words to
that effect."

"Shall you do it?" asked Mary, eagerly. "You won't, Abra'ml"

  "If I don't, England will fight us. If I do, it'll be the most
unpopular thing I can force down the neck of the North....
We are wrong in the matter. It's the thing England did to us,
and we went to war for it in 81~.... Lizzie, I feel as if I were
getting nearer heaven every minute."

  His eyelids drooped. The two women smiled at each other.
Softly and more softly stroked Lizzie. After a moment she
nodded. Mary gestured toward the hall door. "Guard it," she
breathed, starting for the door into Lincoln's room.

  For an hour the two women stood at their respective doors,
fending away all comers. At the end of that time, Lincoln
came over to kiss Mary, and made his way toward his office..

  As he passed through the living room, Miss Ford was
pouring tea for Charles Sumner. Otherwise the room was
deserted.

"Where's everybody?" asked the President.

  "It's too early for most people," replied Miss Ford. "I was
trying to pacify the Senator until you woke up. I've got two
sleight-of-hand performers who will do some tricks for us at
five o'clock. I hope you won't miss them, either of you. They
call themselves the Singing Jugglers."

  "Oh, I've heard of theml" Lincoln exclaimed, eagerly. "We'll
have to attend the show, eh, Charlesl"

  "I particularly dislike that sort of thing," grumbled Sumner.
"It's certainly childish and in bad taste to have such people
here, at this time."

  "I'm the guilty party," declared Miss Ford. "The President
doesn't smoke nor drink. He's got to have something
cheering, or I'll not be earning my pay."

               FOREVER FREE

 "You see, Senator, the women folks have a more kindly
feeling for my foibles than my constituents," smiled Lincoln.

 "I seer" Sumner was recovering his usual suavity. "William
Russell says he's inclined to forgive you anything because
you don't chew, Mr. Lincoln. I think the national
tobacco-chewing habit has horrified him more than slavery."

 "I'm inclined to sympathize with him," said Mary, coming
in at the moment, very stately in black silk, and the red
India shawl. "The naked beauty of the quid has never
appealed to me. After the first levee, in the East Room, I
had to have the carpet taken up and burned. It was viscid
with tobacco juice. And have any of you visited Mount
Vernon? The very walls are coated with brown spit. Faughl"

 "Where is Russell7 I haven't seen him for a month and I'd
like his comment on this Trent business," asked Lincoln,
chuckling at Mary's wry face.

 "He's hunting prairie chickens in Illinois," replied Miss
Ford. "I do like these sporting Britishers. They're like
Southern gentlemen."

 "Too bad he has to hunt with Northern clodhoppers, isn't
it?" snapped Mary. "For a sensible woman, you do say the
silliest things, Miss Ford."

"I reckon I dol" agreed the Virginian, good naturedly.

 "Charles," said Lincoln abruptly, "a lot of my friends, even
Miss Ford here, have been urging me to send you to
England on the Trent matter. But I'm not going to do it. I
need you too much in the White House and the Capitol, to
work on Compensated Abolishment."

 Sumner, superb in his silver grey broadcloth suit, came to
his feet and shook his beautifully kept, white hand in the
President's face. "Compensated Abolishmentl More
quibbling. More quibbling. Destroy it at a single blowl Cease
to fear! Emancipate the slaves, and you end the war."

 "This is a war to preserve the Union, not to end slavery!"
cried Miss Ford, rising behind the tea table, and hurling the
words at the Senator as though they were missiles.

 "Woman, you liel" roared Sumner, turning from Lincoln to
give her the full force of his passion. His two fists shot
toward the ceiling. "Slavery is the ruling idea of the
rebellion. It is slavery that inspires every Rebel from general
to trumpeter. It is slavery that speaks in the word of com-
mand and sounds in the morning drum beat. It is slavery
that digs trenches and forts, pitches its wicked tents, and sets
the sentries over against the National Capital. Wherever the
rebellion shows itself, whatever form it takes, whatever thing
it does, whatever it meditates, it is moved by slavery; nay,
the rebellion is slavery itself, incarnate, living, acting, raging,
robbing, murdering, according to the essential law of its
being."

 "Oratory!" sneered Miss Ford. "You said the same thing at
the Republican State Convention at Worcester in October.
But I, and many another, noted that only a few backed you
when you urged that emancipation be placed in the party
platform. The country is still sound as Mr. Lincoln will find,
if he tries to stuff Compensated Abolishment down the
throats

THE VACANT CHAIR 125

of the border states. They'll spew it up." She paused,
trembling with the force of her vehemence. Then, before
Sumner could reply, she turned to the President.

  "Where do you hope to get the money to pay owners for
their slaves, Mr. Lincoln?"

  Lincoln dug in the pocket of his snuff colored, baggy coat,
and brought out a memorandum. "I worked this out last
night," he said. "One half day's cost of the war would pay for
all the slaves in Delaware at $400 a head. Eighty-seven days'
cost of this war would free all the slaves in Delaware,
Maryland, District of Columbia, Kentucky and Missouri. I
wouldn't declare all the slaves free now, but by this plan I'd
have each State adopt, now, a method by which the institution
absolutely ceased in twenty-five years. Seel Isn't that tender
handling for you, Miss Ford?"

  "Nol I warn you, Abraham Lincoln, to keep your hands off
our slaves as you would off our cattle or our houses." Her
face quivered as she spoke.

  Lincoln sighed. "I reckon, that, between you and Charles,
I'll be ground to powder!" He returned the slip to his pocket.
"Anyhow, Seward shall have his wish and send Thurlow Weed
to England and France."

  "A politician of his type certainly will make a bad
impression abroad," exclaimed Mary.

  "You'd say that Adams, our Minister over there, was their
kind," agreed Lincoln, "but looks as if he hadn't got very far
with Lord Russell. We'll try Weed's self-made manners.
Charles, why don't you stay to supper and we'll thresh out this
Trent affair. And Mary's French is languishing. I like to hear
the two of you at it. It's almost as good as a trip to Paris, I
reckon, for a backwoodsman like me."

  He smiled at Sumner with such honest friendship that the
Senator smiled in return, as he said:

  "Thank you, sir! Even though I can't approve of your
half-hearted approaches to the problem, your attempts at
Compensated Abolishment are better than nothing and I'll
help you any way I can."

  "Goodl Thank you, Charlesl Ah, Taddie, coming to the
show?" as the boy wandered in, followed by Pensacola,
harnessed to a small cart. "Where are Willie and Sumter?"

  His query was answered almost before it was spoken by the
arrival of Sumter at a dead run, barking wildly, and dragging
a wagon, in which was tied a much excited, and loudly vocal
black cat. In the endeavor of both dogs to attack the cat,
several chairs and the tea table were upset. And before the
melee ended, the jugglers arrived, followed by Hay and
Nicolay, and a dozen others of the White House family.

  Mary scolded, their father laughed immoderately. Miss Ford
and John Hay helped to subdue the dogs. The boys
indignantly tried to make their mother understand that they
had not planned to make trouble, but that they had been
staging a parade for the jugglers. Their mother melted at this,
and rescinded her peremptory orders that they go to bed at
once. Louis and Daniel cleaned up the mess, and the
performance began.

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  Lincoln always was intensely interested in exploits showing
physical dexterity because, he said, he possessed so little
himself. He beguiled the leading performer into showing him
the secret of the rabbit and hat trick, and, after perpetrating
the trick successfully with Charles Sumner's respectable
beaver, he urged them to continue their song program.

  It was a peculiarly interesting scene; the huge oval room,
with curtains drawn against the wintry night, the shabby,
comfortable chairs, the table on which Mary's books
crowded the vases of roses, fuchsias,lilies, she loved; the
glowing fire, on one side of which sat Lincoln, with Willie on
his knee, on the opposite side, his wife with Tad leaning
against the red shawl; seated beside Lincoln, and a little
back of him, Sumner tolerantly amused, Seward
absent-minded and placid, "Father" Welles impatient, Mrs.
Welles lovely and interested, pretty Kate Chase scornful,
John Hay with his twinkling black eyes on Miss Chase.
Grouped with Mary, Miss Ford, her eyes on Lincoln, Mrs.
Seward tired and patiently impatient, George Nicolay
interested, Cameron handsome and bland, a notebook on his
knee.

  Opposite the fireplace worked the jugglers, in black tights,
doublets of silver, slashed with red, red velvet caps, each
with a long black feather. They sang for Lincoln, in the
cheap concert hall manner, several popular songs which did
not hold the President's attention. Observing this, one of the
singers cut short the rendering of "Seeing Nellie Home," and
made an announcement.

  "We have the privilege of singing for Your Excellency the
new and popular hit, The Vacant Chair, written by a friend
to the memory of Willie Grout, killed at the battle of Ball's
Bluff."

  Even their nasal, mechanical voices could not entirely
obliterate the appeal of that tender and sentimental ballad
which hundreds were warbling, but which Lincoln had not
heard. It was the sort of thing that always tore him:

"We shall meet but we shall miss himl There will be one
vacant chair. We shall linger to caress him, As we breathe
our evening prayer."

 He listened, with quivering chin. The song made almost
unbearably keen his constant grief over the losses the war
was bringing to America  this wart these lossest how
long must they continue, before he dare risk placing in the
hands of his countrymen an edict freeing the slaves7

"Makes me think of Uncle BakerI" sniffed Willie, and burst
into tears.

 Suddenly, the President bowed his great head on the boy's
shoulder and wept with him. Mary flew to his side; there was
a moment of stunned silence in the room, then, at a gesture
from Miss Ford, the company slipped away, leaving the
Lincolns alone before the fire.

CHAPTER XVII

            THE FIRST WAR ORDER

     HILE moments such as that following the singing of
The VaV V cant Chair added to the sum total of Lincoln's
sadness, they at

 ~ ~ the same time afforded a relief to his tense nerves,
that together with the laughter that preceded the tears, made
it possible to endure without breaking the burden that daily
grew more ghastly.

 He found himself, later in the evening, able to discuss the
irritating Trent affair quite calmly with Seward and
Sumner, that is to keep those two high-strung gentlemen as
well as himself to a middle key. The net result of the evening
was a letter to England that Sumner prophesied would
satisfy John Bull's exacting diplomacy.

 The prophecy, in the course of the month, proved itself
correct, and, before Christmas, Lincoln had the satisfaction
of seeing the two prisoners given up to Great Britain. It was
a remarkable diplomatic victory, as none knew better than
the President, but he had no time in which to glory in it.

 William Russell, at a tea gathering in the sitting room,
caught Lincoln, passing through, and congratulated him on
what he had accomplished.

 The President looked down on the Englishman with a
smile. "It was good diplomacy, but bad politics, I reckon.
Bigelow hits it off:

    "'We gave the critters back, John,

Cos Abra'm thought 'twas right.
It wa'n't your bullyin' clack, John,
Provokin' us to fights"'

 He gave the verse with great gusto and strode away,
followed by Russell's jovial "Hal Hal"

 No, even the threatened war with Great Britain had not
pressed on him as heavily as his anxiety over McClellan. The
young General was carrying things with a high hand, frankly
looking on himself as the last military authority in the
country. With grim far-sightedness, Lincoln, one by one,
cleared away the obstacles about which he felt McClellan
could complain legitimately. He seized on Cameron's
indiscreet recommendation to arm the slaves, in the War
Department's annual report, as a good reason for appointing
him Minister to Russia. And one morning, early in January,
he sent a communication to Edwin M. Stanton, over which
John Hay dared utter a protest.

 "Mr. Lincoln, Stanton hates your" He swallowed hard like
a schoolboy, disliking to bear tales, but urged thereto by an
overwhelming sense of duty.

8 FOREVER FREE

 The President, observing his embarrassment, helped him
out with rather a twisted smile. "Yes, he's the man who
christened me the Illinois Gorilla.... He's a fellow capable of
performing the biggest and the meanest deeds. The country
knows him well, and has complete trust in his honesty, as I
have, and he can do more to restore confidence in financial
circles in the conduct of the war than any one in America.
He's a Union Democrat. He's got an exceptionally good
head-piece. But, most important of all, he's McClellan's dear
friend.... As far as I'm concerned, I can hitch along with
him, somehow."

 John sighed. "Very well, sir! I'm silenced but not
convinced." Then he looked up at the President, with his
delightful twinkle. "What a wonderful wife you would make,
Mr. Lincolnl"

 The President doubled up with laughter, and John hurried
off with the letter to Stanton.

 But for all Lincoln's efforts and personal sacrifices, with
the new head of the War Department giving him
unprecedented cooperation, with the country clamoringmore
and more for action on the part of the Army of the
Potomac, McClellan did not move. His invariable reply to all
urging was that the enemy vastly outnumbered him, and that
he still lacked certain essential supplies. Lincoln walked the
floor, cajoled, ordered. Still the Army of the Potomac, a
wonderful organization now of 150,000 men in the highest
state of efficiency, lay quietly in the Virginia hills, "eating its
head off."

 McClellan began to be inaccessible to the President's
messengers, and seldom appeared at the White House.
Uneasy, Lincoln decided once more to visit McDowell,
himself.

 One clear afternoon, late in January, Lincoln,
accompanied by William Russell, started ostensibly for a
horseback ride, but immediately they were out of the White
House grounds, Lincoln said to the war correspondent:

 "William, let's go over Long Bridge and visit McDowell. I
want to see if he realizes the bottom's going to drop out of
everything unless that army moves."

 "I'm persona non "rata with Army Headquarters, you
know, Mr. Lincoln, ever since the newspapers dubbed me
'Bull Run Russell."'

 Lincoln grunted. "McDowell himself told me your account
was accurate  I suppose I have an occasional privilege of
my job. Come along."

"I'd jolly well like tol" exclaimed Russell. "Thank you, sir."

 Washington and the Virginia hills were beautiful under a
light fall of snow, blue-white in the brilliant sun. Lincoln
drew deep breaths of the scintillating air, and felt his spirits
rise, as they always did under the open skies.

 He was almost cheerful by mid-afternoon, when they
reached Arlington Heights, and entered the house. An
officer bowed them into one of the pallors, which seemed to
Lincoln, blinking with snow dazzle, to be full of women. But,
in a moment, he perceived that there were only Mrs.

THE FIRST WAR ORDER 1Z9

McDowell, Mrs. McClellan and Miss Ford. There were
highly polished floors, with rugs in soft colors, many spindly
gold chairs and sofas lace curtains, portraits, negro servants
coming and going, the smell of coffee and whiskey.

 "I say," murmured Russell, as an aide announced them,
"headquarters does itself rather welll"

 General McClellan, standing before the crackling fire,
allowed the President to cross the room to greet him. He
shook Lincoln's proffered hand, and bowed stiffly at Russell.
As he took in the elegance of the scene Lincoln deliberately
turned backwoodsman.

 "I reckon I'm as unexpected to you, George, as you are to
mel I thought you were sick," he said, sinking gingerly onto
one of the brocaded sofas and crossing his long legs. "What's
going on, a church fairs"

McClellan flushed darkly. "May I ask, sir, what brings you
here?"

 "I thought maybe if I could catch McDowell alone," replied
Lincoln, serenely, "I could surprise him into moving such of
the army as he could control. And I'll make you a sporting
offer right now, Georgel Since you don't want to use the
Army of the Potomac, I'd like to borrow it, and set it to work
on some of the plans I've been hatching."

 The young general looked over to the tea table where Miss
Ford and his wife were sitting. There was an exchange of
looks among the three, and an ever-so-slight shrugging of
McClellan's shoulders. None of this escaped Lincoln, who put
his foot on the rung of a gold chair, took the little ivory paper
knife out of his vest pocket and slowly rubbed his black locks
with it, smiling inwardly as he thought of what Mary would
say if she could see him.

 After a long pause, McClellan asked, sardonically, "May I
ask, sir, what you would do with the army7"

 "I'd make it fight, George. That's what armies are fort" very
gently. Then, suddenly, pointing the ivory blade at the
general, he asked, harshly, "What's the mystery in your
inertia, McClellan7 You are not a coward, as far as I can
discover! Your constant iteration that the enemy too greatly
exceeds you in numbers is too trifling an excuse for a man of
your intelligence. You know better. Come, what's the
mystery?"

 "By God, sirl" shouted McClellan, suddenly. "Don't try my
patience too far, or you shall discover my strength. 'Borrow
the armyl' One of your puerile jokes, of course but try itl
Try itl See if one man would leave me to follow you."

 "What General McClellan is boasting of, Mr. Lincoln," Miss
Ford cut in a little breathlessly, "is the unparalleled affection
his soldiers have for him. It really is remarkable, unless one
knows the general well, the faith they have in Little Mac,
the love they show him."

 The President turned deliberately in his chair so that his
long body in the grey riding clothes was facing the table. In
so doing, he for the first time observed a young man who was
standing behind her chair. It was "Obscene" Gordon. "Now
where does that get use" thought Lincoln. Then

130 FOREVER FREE

aloud, with a smile for Miss Ford, very magnificent in her
black velvet riding habit, "And what else could I have
supposed George meant, Sister Ford7 There's nothing better
than for a soldier to trust his general, far as I know.... By the
way, McClellan," his eyes fastened grimly on "Obscene"
Gordon, "it is clearly understood that no report of this after-
noon's repartee goes to the newspapers. And while I think
of it, Miss Ford, if by any chance you discover what reporter
is writing to a certain New York paper, claiming that the
Administration is considering commuting the sentence of the
slave-trader Nathaniel P. Gordon, to satisfy the ardent pleas
of Mrs. Lincoln, who, he alleges, is violently pro-slavery in
her sympathies if you discover him, tell him I'll do more
than kick him next time I see him opportunely."

Lincoln rose slowly.

 "Will you have a cup of coffee, Mr. Lincoln7" It was Mrs.
McClellan's sole contribution to the "repartee."

 "No, I thank you, Madam." Lincoln made his jerky bow
and turned to McClellan, who still stood stiffly at the
hearthrug. Something in the sturdy beauty and intelligence
of the young general so renewed Lincoln's old yearning
toward him that, for a moment, his uneasy suspicions were
submerged.

 "I hope you feel well enough to attend a war council
Stanton is calling for to-night, George. It's his party. I'm just
an invited guest."

 "I have already written my acceptance, sir, to the Secretary
of War," replied the general.

 "Goodl" commented Lincoln. "Well, Russell, shall we hit
the highroad again?"

 "Gladly, Mr. President," replied Russell who, throughout
the interview, had stood behind Lincoln's chair, an elegant
figure in a tweed riding suit, with high boots and spurs of a
foreign cut.

 The sun was well toward the west as the two mounted
their horses and set off for home.

 Lincoln reviewed the call, mentally, puzzling not a little
over the presence at Arlington of Miss Ford and Gordon.
His companion did not intrude on his thoughts, and it was
not until they had again clattered on to Long Bridge that
Lincoln asked, abruptly, "William, what's the matter with
McClellan7"

 The war correspondent replied promptly, "Too much
adulation, sir, from every one. You, yourself, Mr. President,
have contributed not a little to his surfeit of sweets."

 "I thought he was too big to spoil," sighed the President.
"But he's got a notion, it's obvious, that the Army of the
Potomac is his personal bodyguard."

 Russell laughed, then said with his usual fairness, "He's a
competent engineer. His defense works around Washington
are beyond criticism.'7

 "He's only a statiorzary engineer, I'm getting to believe,"
grunted Lincoln, and changed the subject.

THE FIRST WAR ORDER 131

 But during the remainder of the ride home, during dinner,
with the Welleses and the Sewards as guests, he was
pondering on McClellan  McClellan and Miss Ford Miss
Ford, McClellan and Gordon. During the war council, later,
he permitted Stanton to take the lead in urging action, while
still he studied the General-in-Chief. Stanton had derided
Lincoln's assertion that no one could move George
McClellan save the Almighty, whom alone McClellan
admitted to be his superior. Stanton showed a little
impatience toward his favorite, it is true, and was en-
deavoring, this evening, to move him, himself.

 The council dragged through several hours' discussion of
plans for an immediate move toward Richmond. For every
suggestion, McClellan had the same reply, that the enemy too
greatly outnumbered him for such tactics to be successful.

 Toward midnight, when McClellan had made this reply for
the fifth or sixth time, Stanton's fierce temper rose.

 "By the eternal, what hallucination has paralyzed the
Federal generals? Read this, sir." He walked over to his desk
and, seizing a handful of telegsms, he handed McClellan one
from Rosecrans, in West Virginia, asking for more troops.

 McClellan read and sniffed disgustedly. "Nonsense, he
doesn't need another maul"

 "Read this, also, sirl" exclaimed Stanton, tugging with
trembling fingers at his beard.

 It was a telegram from Sherman insisting that zoo,ooo
more men were needed in the West.

"The man is crazyl" was the General's contemptuous
comment.

 "I told you, Stanton," said Lincoln, "that George regards
every man we sent to any other department as willful robbery
of the Army of the Potomac."

 "May I ask you, General," demanded Stanton, hoarsely,
"what you intend to do with your army, and when7"

 A disagreeable silence ensued, with Stanton pulling at his
long-suffering beard, McClellan sitting bolt upright, his hand
on his sword, with Lincoln looking in a troubled way from
one to the other, as he nursed his left knee. He could see
Stanton's furious temper rising. The last thing he desired was
a quarrel between the two men, each so valuable, each so
extraordinarily difficult.

 "Have you a date in your own mind for a move,
McClellan7" Lincoln urged.

"I have, sir," replied McClellan.

 "Then, I shall adjourn this meeting, trusting you to divulge
that date to us, in the immediate future," Lincoln said,
ignoring the fact that Stanton had called the conference.

 McClellan and McDowell left at once. Lincoln pulled his
grey shawl over his shoulders, set a dilapidated tweed cap
over his nose and faced

132 FOREVER FREE

his new Secretary of War with a brooding eye. Stanton
pulled his spectacles off, and polished them with vicious
force.

"Why did you interfere, Lincoln? We had got nowhere," he
demanded.

 "You and Little Mac are good friends, Stanton. I reckon
it'll be better for the country if you stay so."

 Stanton beat the war map which lay open on his desk with
a muscular fist. "I ruined two of my good friends, to-day,
whom Cameron had allowed to loot the treasury with
fraudulent war contracts. George McClellan will use his
great talents to push the war or he'll use them on his old job
back with the Illinois Central Railway as a private citizen."

 Lincoln sighed and walked into the next room, where the
code telegraph operators were at work. He read through a
sheaf of dispatches from the West, then sat down at one of
the desks and fell into a dark reverie. He was roused when
the telegraph instrument before him began to sound, and
young Bates reached over his shoulder to reply.

 "Young man, I've hunkered you out of your seat, I guess,"
he remarked, rising.

 "Thank you, Mr. President," said the young man. "This is
the second time to-day you've given way to some one. I saw
you step into the deep snow this morning on F Street to
make room for a fat nigger wench."

 "Did you?" asked Lincoln. "Maybe I did. I've made it a
rule all my life if people wouldn't turn out for me, I'd turn
out for them. You avoid collisions that way. Good night,
boysl" And again in the dark reverie, he left for the White
House.

He went directly to Mary's room.

"That you, Abra'm?" she asked, as he opened the door
softly.

 "Yes, Mary." There was no light in the room save the
warm glow from the fire which lighted his wife's long
chestnut braids, and touched her cheeks with delicate rose.
He sat down at the side of her bed and took her hand.
"Feeling pretty well? Like being here in Washington7"

 Mary smiled. "I'm nicely, Abratm, but I guess I enjoy
Washington about the same way you do. How did the
conference go, this evening?"

 Lincoln shook his head, then asked, abruptly, "Mary, what
do you think of Sister Ford now? I'm wondering if she's not
brewing more mischief than we ought to stand for."

Mary sat up in bed. "What's she done, now, Abra'm?"

 Lincoln told of his suspicions roused at Arlington and
added, "Gordon's not her sort, or McClellan's either.
They're just using him. But for what?"

 "Something connected with keeping the slavery issue holy,"
retorted Mary, "as Charles Sumner would say. He's having
a beautiful time, Abra'm, trying to make an Abolitionist of
me."

Lincoln patted her hand. "Is he succeeding, my dear?"

 Mary looked thoughtful. "Well, I find his arguments very
persuasive. He is really very attractive to a woman who likes
to use her brains. You know he corresponds with several
highly cultured English and French ladies. His letters from
the Duchess of Argyle are fascinating."

THE FIRST WAR ORDER 133

"It all helps him in his job," with a twinkle, from Lincoln.

  "Aren't you horrible!" Mary laughed softly. "He and Miss
Ford have quarreled, I believe. He says he no longer can
ignore her attitude on slavery."

  "Don't know but what I'm in the same boat," murmured
Lincoln. "That new head of the National Detective Police,
Colonel Baker, is an intelligent and tactful fellow. I reckon I
ought to have a talk with him soon. Though, when you get
right down to it, I haven't a great deal to tell."

  "Have him talk to Jinny," suggested Mary. "Though I admit
that I dread to have him discover anything. She's wonderful
with the boys.... As to your puzzle about her relation with
McClellan, Abra'm, my public teas have shown me one thing.
She and her clique, like all the rest of the world, are feeding
his vanity until it's inevitable, unless he's terribly defeated on
the battlefield, that he'll try to make himself either Dictator
or President. And he'll never risk a real battle. I told you he
is yellow."

  "He's not yellow!" contradicted Lincoln. "He's young very
young I wonder if he thinks if he dallies long enough the
peace parties, North and South, can patch things up, saving
both the Union and Slavery No, he couldn't be such a
fooll What is it, Mary7 what is it? Why won't McClellan
move on Richmond7"

  "He's a coward, and just now cowardice helps on his
ambitions," promptly, from Mary.

  "Nol no, he's no coward! You don't help me by being
vindictive in your judgments, Mary." He spoke almost
pleadingly.

  "My dearest husband, how can I not feel vindictive when I
observe his insults to you?" asked Mary, rubbing her cheek
affectionately against his arm.

Lincoln kissed her, then rose with a sigh. The puzzle was still
unsolved.

  He sent for Colonel Baker, the next morning, but the
detective was off on a case that would not be finished for
several days. Lincoln promptly forgot the matter and turned
to putting through the first turn of what he called the
thumb-screw method on McClellan. He issued his "War
Order No. 1." As Commander-in-Chief of all forces, he
ordered a general movement of the military and naval forces
against the insurgents. Almost as an after-thought, he called
a Cabinet meeting and told the members what he had done.
The members, slowly learning that they must bow to Lincoln's
solitary rule, did not, for once, resent his autocratic methods,
but gave him general approval. Chase, who had begun to hate
McClellan quite openly, was especially generous with his
approval.

  "At lastl" he exclaimed. "Finally you've come to realize, Mr.
President, that a coward has to be forced to fight."

"McClellan is no coward, sir," snarled Stanton.

  "Give me proof of his bravery and I'll apologize, Mr.
Secretary Stanton," sneered the Secretary of the Treasury.

Seward interrupted tactfully. "I'm ready to wager with any
one that

134 FOREVER FREE
now we may bank on the Mississippi being open by the first
of May."

"McClellan won't be ready to move by May," grunted Welles.

 Lincoln, employing his usual method of keeping peace,
turned to Postmaster General Blair. "I granted a pardon to
young Jones but I'm not sure I should have. Of course he is
a mere boy. His father put up a good argument for him. For
that matter, the man whom I was talking to when you folks
came in was a good talker. He, too, wanted to get a relative
out of jail." He looked at the grim, impatient faces around the
table with an irresistible twinkle in his fine grey eyes. "I tell
you, gentlemen, we must abolish these courtslIt's bad enough
that they put so many good men in penitentiaries to get out,
but now they've begun on the boys, that's too bad. And,
according to the evidence that comes to me, they pick out the
very best men to send to the penitentiary, and this boy Jones
is a very good boy, too. The man who was pleading for his
relative this morning, made me feel that Massachusetts must
be a happy State, if her citizens who are out of jail are as
virtuous as this one who is in. Yes, down with the courts, and
deliverance to the victims!"

 Attorney General Bates, smiling with the others, picked up
a great stack of papers. "This seems to be a propitious
moment, sir, to speak of Nathaniel P. Gordon, a slave trader.
It was your friend Miss Ford who first brought him to my
attention. But I've been bombarded since with pleas for and
against his pardon. Undoubtedly, the Abolitionists are seeking
to make an example of him."

 "I know that case," interrupted Lincoln. "The man stinks to
heaven with the aroma of his slave ship. This is his fourth
offence I wish such a blow to be struck at slave trading as
will stamp it as dangerous and disgusting in the eyes of all
seafaring men. Only hanging one of their fraternity will
accomplish this."

 Lincoln rose and, looking down at Bates, said in a voice
husky with emotion, "I will reprieve him until the last day of
February, so that he may prepare for the awful change
awaiting him. On that day he must hang. Prepare the
necessary document for me to sign, Bates, warning Gordon
that, relinquishing all expectation of pardon by human
authority, he refer himself alone to the mercy of the common
God and Father of all men. That will be all for to-day,
gentlemen." And he moved out of the room, his head bowed,
his hands clasped behind his back.

               CHAPTER XVIII
                  WILLIE

   TAR Order No. 1 had no more effect on McClellan
than the V V wind whistling over Arlington Heights. Several
of his generals in

 ~ ~ the West and Southeast made spasmodic advances.
Burnside and Goldsborough took Roanoke Island, the key
to all the North Carolina coast defences. Grant sprang into
sudden fame by taking Fort Donelson on the Tennessee, a
most important step toward the freeing of the lower
Mississippi. Had these movements been backed
wholeheartedly by McClellan, so that all the coils of the
Anaconda tightened, the duration of the war undoubtedly
would have been shortened by months if not by years.

But McClellan did not move.

 Daily, Lincoln's uneasiness increased. What was
McClellan's game? Did any one but McClellan knows Did
Mrs. McClellan understand? Did any of their friends Miss
Ford7

 He was signing a list of pardons when this thought came
to him, one afternoon, in the middle of February. He looked
up at John Hay.

"John, how does your 'settin' up' to Miss Ford progress?"

 "Not rapidly, sir. The lady, I fear, finds Hay an insipid diet,
preferring the roast beef of old England."

 Lincoln chuckled. "I advised her once, myself, to take up
with Russell. Is Russell really serious about her, John?"

 "I believe not, sir. He takes her out a bit but I imagine his
heart is on the other side of the water."

 "John, I don't like her intimacy with the McClellans,
knowing what I know of her beliefs. If I thought she really
had an influence on him, on the
peace-at-any-price-to-save-slavery side, I'd put her in the Old
Capitol prison. As it is Has Colonel Baker returned7"

 "Not yet, sin I'll see that he comes to you as soon as he
gets back. How about some other detective "

 Lincoln shook his head. "There's too much politics in this
thing for any but a broad gauge man. I'll wait for Baker. In
the meantime, I reckon I'll face her, myself. Send her in
here, John, then pray for me."

 "You can take care of Miss Ford or any other woman, as
far as I can observe," young Hay retorted imperturbably, as
he hurried to obey the order.

 Miss Ford came in with a look of inquiry in her violet
eyes. She took the chair Lincoln placed beside his desk for
her, pulling a little green knit cape about her shoulders. The
White House was not well heated. Snow tapped steadily
against the windows, and a bitter wind swayed the shades.

6 FOREVER FREE

 "Sister Ford," began Lincoln, then paused, wondering what
on earth he was to say.

 "'Sister' is rather a recent acquisition," the Virginian
smiled. "There are arguments both for and against it."

 "I'm entirely for it," declared Lincoln. "It has a friendly
sound. Sister Ford, what is it you desire most in this
world, to preserve slavery?"

 She gave him a little smile. "Do you require a quite literal
reply, Mr. Lincoln?"

"Yesl" replied the President, quietly.

"Do you mean what would I desire could I have my wish?"

 "Yes. Be frank with me. Would it be McClellan's total
quiescence until peace could be declared on a pro-slavery
basis?" asked Lincoln, leaning toward her, earnestly.

 "You mustn't put words in my mouth, sir! You must
permit me to answer your questions freely, and, as I am a
woman, that answer must be intensely personal." She drew
a breath so tremulous that the buttons on her dress
quivered. Her cheeks burned. Suddenly she leaned forward
to place her hands on Lincoln's.

 "Could I have my heart's desire, dear Mr. Lincoln, it would
be that I be beloved by you as you are by me, and that, far
from the madding crowd's ignoble fight, we'd be living for
each other."

Lincoln gasped, "Good Godl" and jumped to his feet. "Are
you mad?"

  As though stung to the quick by the surprise and disgust
in his voice, Miss Ford rose so precipitately that her chair
tipped over. Her voice was thick with passion. "Mad? Yes,
mad, Abraham Lincoln, when I permit myself to think of
you your magnificent ugliness, your superb intelligence,
your utter sweetness and your complete aloofness from all
human contacts. Ah, I have watched you month by
month "

  "Stopl" thundered Lincoln. "You are a superb actress, Miss
Ford, but you are wasting your talents on me. Take them to
James Hackett. He'll be here next week. In the meantime,
calm down and consider what you are saying."

  "Have I considered anything else for six months7"
demanded the Virginian, fiercely.

"Yes, ma'aml You have given deep consideration to George
McClellan."

"With the top of my mind, yes. To you, my inmost soul."

  Lincoln paused, uncertain whether to laugh or weep. He
had no idea as to whether or not Miss Ford had any real
feeling for him. It was not impossible. He had known many
women. Not a few of them, for some reason endlessly
mysterious to him, had made love to him. He believed that
the present scene, however, had been carefully rehearsed
with an idea of carrying him off his feet. And yet, no
anomaly of feeling, he told himself, was impossible to this
woman. In no other had he observed such possibilities for a
conflict of passions mental, moral and physical.

  Snow tapping on the window panes. Faintly from
Pennsylvania Avenue, the sound of a funeral march, some
soldier going to his long rest. An un

WILLIE 137

usual sense of weariness pressed OD his heart. He raised a
hand to rest on her green, wool-clad shoulder.

 "Dear Sister Ford, what a wealth of talent to waster Ah, my
dear, don't waste itl Use it to help save the Union."

"To destroy slavery, you meant" still fiercely.

"To save the Union, cleansed of slavery. Help me, Miss
Fordl"

  She looked up at him, nostrils dilating. "That7 Never!
Neverl" She seized his hand, turned it and kissed the
calloused palm, then moved away from him. "You are going
against tremendous human forces and appetites, Abraham
Lincoln."

  He clasped his hands behind him and stood staring at her,
a slow anger and antagonism mingling with pity in his heart.
"Are you warning me or defying me, Miss Ford7" he asked.

"Either or bothl The choice is yours, sirl"

  Her handsome head in the air, one hand twirling the huge
globe beside the table, it sunk in on Lincoln that hers was a
terrible power, and that she had no place in the President's
household. She had better go and that at once.

  As if she sensed what was in his mind, she said in a
natural, casual way, "I must get back to the boys. Dr. Stone
says he's afraid both of them have a touch of typhoid."

  Lincoln started as though she had struck him. Both boys
had been in bed for a day or two, with what was supposed to
be a bilious attack, following a children's party.

"Typhoid!" he exclaimed. "When did the doctor say that7"

  "He had just told Mrs. Lincoln and me when you sent for
me," replied the Virginian, her ruffled green skirts sweeping
after the President, as he strode from the room.

  Tad was drowsy with fever and wished only to drink cold
water and to sleep, but Willie's blue eyes were brilliant. He
asked his father to sit down and read Scott's Hunting Song to
him.

  Lizzie Keckley, in a comfortable white apron, was putting
a cold towel on the boy's aching head. She smiled up at
Lincoln.

  "Don't look so upset, Mr. President. A little headache isn't
going to worry this boy, is it, Master Willie7"

  "Of course notl" exclaimed Willie. "Papa day, I want you to
tell John Hay to take care of my pony. He's the only one that
knows how a pony feels. And every morning till I get well, I
want John to go down and talk to him."

  "I'll see that John does it," replied Lincoln, picking up the
little leather bound copy of poetry and sitting down beside
the bed.

"Waken, lords and ladies gay, On the mountain dawns the
day; All the jolly chase is here With hawk and horse and
hunting-spear."

Lincoln read the poem superbly. Willie was stilled as
though a healing
                      
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hand had allayed his misery. In fifteen minutes he was
asleep. His father sat for a few minutes longer gazing at him,
then he stole away, intending to find Mary and speak a word
of comfort to her. She was in Tad's room with Miss Ford.
Both women were leaning over the child's bed.

 "You let Miss Fo'd hold me, motheh," Tad was saying.
"You must be ti'ed and she's so st'ong and comfable and she
likes to hold me."

 "You're a spoiled babyl" exclaimed Mary, tenderly, moving
back with a smile that was utterly without jealousy.

 "Anything for her children's comfort, bless her dear heart,"
thought Lincoln.

 Miss Ford lifted the boy easily, Mary wrapped the blanket
around him and the Virginian crossed the room to the fire
where she seated herself in a mahogany rocking chair and
began to croon a darky lullaby. Mary caught sight of Lincoln,
and followed him into the hall.

"She's a strange contradiction," he said.

 "Yesl" sighed Mary. "The boys are never happier or more
docile than when she's with them. Abra'm, do we have to
send her away until the boys are well7"

 "Nol We'll hold off until then. But after that " He shook
his head. "This is hard news Dr. Stone gives us, darling
Maryl Can it be reals The boys don't seem much sick."

 "They aren't," replied Mary, cheerfully, "but they'll need
careful nursing."

 "Looks to me like they were getting itl" his anxiety lifting
with Mary's manner. "I'll sit up with 'em to-night."

 "You won't be needed, dear," replied Mary. "Save yourself
for your big tasks. There's Charles Sumner looking for you
nowl"

 The Senator, a great blue cape lined with seal thrown over
his shoulders, came up with both arms extended, and stood
holding one of Mary's and one of Lincoln's hands.

 "Young Stoddard has just told me. What may I do to help?
I am an excellent nurse, having had so much illness myself."

 Mary smiled at him gratefully. "You and the President
have your hands full, nursing a patient that's far sicker than
our boys. I refer to your friend 'Compensated Abolishment."'

 Lincoln chuckled. "I reckon he is right sick but we're going
to try to pull him out, eh, Charles?"

 Sumner smiled. "If you can spare a moment, Mr. Lincoln,
that's what I came to consult you about. I have had a letter
from John Bright on the British state of mind, which I'd like
to read to you. Compensated Abolishment will not bring the
British to our side in this war. It would still remain a war of
coercion, to their eyes. But come, let's read the letter."

 Lincoln proceeded along the hall to his office and seated
Sumner in the chair so lately occupied by Miss Ford. Mary
was not worried about the boys but, somehow, his own
anxiety was only half assuaged.

The next day, Taddie was sharply sick. But after a few days,
his fever

WILLIE 1 39

began to lessen. The onslaught of the disease with Willie was
mild, but day after day his fever rose, until one could see it
consuming his vitality like an unquenchable fire.

 A shadow settled over the White House. The work in the
office went on at the same almost unendurable pace, but
many times a day Lincoln abruptly left his desk, or excused
himself from a conference, or turned away from the unending
stream of importuning visitors, to walk hastily over to the
children's rooms. There he would question the attending
women for a moment, kiss each boy's little burning hand, and
hurry back to his work.

 People were, of course, astonishingly kind, astonishing, at
least, it seemed to Abraham and Mary Lincoln, who had
been the recipients of such virulent unkindnesses during this
year in the White House.

 On the afternoon of February zo, Lincoln broke away
suddenly from Stanton who was berating him, half sneeringly,
for not enforcing his full authority on McClellan, broke
away because a sudden prescience of tragedy touched him on
the quick. He was gone not more than five minutes. Stanton
was sitting by the fire when the President returned. He
looked up indignantly, but rose when he observed the
expression in Lincoln's eyes.

"My dear Mr. Presidentl" he exclaimed. "Bad newsy The
boys?"

 Lincoln put a great hand against the mantel to support
himself. He could see Stanton's bearded face only through a
reeling black mist. After a moment he forced himself to say:

 "Dr. Stone says there's no hope for Willie. The end may
come any moment. I reckon you'll have to excuse me,
Stantonl"

 "Excuse youl Good God, Lincoln, haven't I buried my own
precious child? Don't bother about anything. I'll go out and
boot McClellan clear to Richmond. Don't bother!" He gave
Lincoln a sudden bear hug, and rushed from the room.

 The dreadful minutes marched on. Willie never wakened
from his stupor, after rousing feebly toward dusk to ask Miss
Ford to hold him. She lifted his head against her shoulder.
An hour later he died Iying so, with his father's face buried
against his feet, with his mother walking the floor, groaning
and twisting her hands.

 Lizzie Keckley, when the Virginian, with infinite tenderness,
had laid her burden down, touched Lincoln on the shoulder.

 "Mr. Lincoln, if you will get the Madam into her room, I'll
wash him and lay him out."

 Lincoln staggered to his feet and going over to Mary, lifted
her in his arms and carried her to her room, where he
undressed her, and put her to bed. Her self-control was
utterly shattered.

 Willie's death was, it seemed to Lincoln, the greatest grief
of his life. Even the death of Ann Rutledge, that most
poignant loss of his youth, had not torn at his very vitals as
did this. A ghastly hopelessness, the like of which he never
before had felt, day by day increased within him.

140 FOREVER FREE

  Those about him believed that he was bearing up well, far
better than poor Mary. Only the President himself knew the
deeps that had been probed by Willie's too early withdrawal.

  Miss Ford, giving all her time to the convalescent Tad, had
perhaps clearer insight than any one, now that Mary's
usually alert powers of observation were blunted by grief,
into the inroads the tragedy was making on the President's
calm common sense.

  A week after the death, John Hay tapped on Mrs.
Lincoln's door. It was about ten o'clock in the morning. He
asked Lizzie Keckley, who answered, if the President were
within.

  "He must be in his own room," she hazarded. "He locked
the door of his room early this moming."

  John turned away, and went to Tad's room, where Miss
Ford was sitting with her embroidery.

  "I guess the Tycoon is locked in his bed chamber," he said.
"Ought we to do anything? Do you think he's ill7"

  "He's ill," replied the Virginian, "but not in the common
parlance. He's keeping vigil, I would suppose. This is
Thursday, just a week after Willie's going."

  "Poor old fellow!" murmured John. "We must leave him
alone, I suppose. But he's badly needed in the office."

  All that day, Lincoln sat in his room in a lethargy of
despair from which he made no attempt to rouse himself.
For hours he thought of the boy, summoned every detail he
could recall of the child's picturesque mind, dwelt in
exquisite agony on his extraordinary promise, for he was
the cleverest one of the Lincolns' trio, read again and
again the poem to Colonel Baker, and wept because the
little hand would write no more. Never again. Gone. Gone
forever. But whither7 Into nothingness? Lincoln groaned and
rocked his long body in anguish.

  There was the crux of it. His faith in God was
impregnable. In immortality he had little faith. Willie gone,
forever, into oblivion! And all those other sons of other
fathers that he was sending, had sent, to join Willie, was
the grief of other fathers like hiss If so, what was he not
answerable for to the Maker of alla Aye, let this Thursday
and all his Thursdays be spent on his knees in penance and
despair.

  He went without food that day, but slept at night, and the
next morning appeared in his office, haggard, but calm.

  No one questioned him. The struggle to move McClellan,
to give vitality to the work for Compensated Abolishment,
with the myriad lesser problems that accumulated more
thickly every hour, appeared to absorb him utterly. But, on
the second Thursday after Willie's death, again Lincoln
locked himself in his room, and gave himself over to grief
and dreadful hopelessness.

  Mary was now recovered from her prostration. She made
several attempts to enter her husband's room, but he did not
answer when she called him, and, with a little sob of pity
and anxiety, she gave over her efforts.

WILLIE 141

  There was perhaps an intellectual as well as an emotional relief in this
vigil of Lincoln's, though he was unconscious of either. But his instincts
were always basically sane. No man of his powerful affections and emo-
tion could endure fighting them perpetually. Quite unconsciously to
him, the idea that if he gave no thought to Willie, to the dead that
Grant was strewing in his path in the West, if he gave no bitter pangs
to them to-day, Thursday he could abandon himself to agonizing over
them, it was this idea that made it possible for Lincoln to work, in the
days after his little son's death.

  On this, his second Thursday of fasting, and prayer, and tears, he
found his mind going back frequently to the arguments he had used to
himself when he had forced McDowell to undertake the movement that
ended in the disaster of Bull Run. He recalled how he had told himself
that only blood and tears could unite the North into the demand that
emancipation requite the unthinkable sacrifices of the war.

  Unthinkable. Much as he had suffered in coming to that decision, it
had required Willie's death to make him understand fully what that
sacrifice must be. Had God had that purpose in taking the boy from
him7 Did God wish the war to stop? Had McClellan the truer visions
Was his procrastination an instrument of the Almighty7

  A great wave of doubt, more painful than hopelessness, engulfed him.
Was McClellan's way God's way7 Was McClellan clean of political as-
pirations7 Had he no dreams of being dictator, placed in the White
House by the demands of the impatient North, which was growing to
believe McClellan's constant assertion that the interference of the
Administration held him back7 Or, if the answer to this was "no," was
Chase correct when he declared that McClellan dreamed of being a
Democratic President, elected by Union Democrats, North and South,
a soldier President, who had saved the Union, without interfering with
slavery7

  He groaned deeply, stopped his floor walking to rest his arm on the
mantel, his head on his arm.

  If McClellan could save the Union, shorn of slavery, if God would
give him a sign that such was McClellan's ability, how gladly would he
step aside and give McClellan his placer

If God would give him a signl

  Was Willie's death that sign7 Did the Almighty wish to show him that
what he was forcing on the people was not to be borne7 . . . But it was
to be borne. People had endured the sacrifice of war ever since history
began, and never before with such an opportunity for compensation as
lay in the destruction of slavery.

 Here memory of Mary's often reiterated comment on his softness,
where                                         i

his affections were concerned, impinged on his brooding. He
straightened
himself. No one was more conscious than Lincoln of the weaknesses
of
his character. And now, with a sudden sweat of fear, he asked
himself if
this weakness was beginning to twist his whole attitude toward the
war,
 if Willie's death was making him maudlin toward McClellan.

z FOREVER FREE

 He brought his fist down on the mantel. By the Eternals,
this must not be sol He would hunt down McClellan's
motives, and act on them without bowels of compassion. It
was intolerable that anything connected with Willie should
smack of the ignoble.... His sonl His little sonl

 He fell to his knees beside the bed, and began once more
to fight his way through the morass of loss that engulfed
him.

 The next morning he came into Mary's room as she was
dressing, himself fully dressed, ghastly with weariness and
suffering. She ran to him and threw her arms around his
neck, looking up into his face with blue eyes,  Willie's eyes,
full of love and sympathy.

 "Abra'm, must you do it7 Can't I help you? It would break
Willie's heart to see you."

 Lincoln's face twisted convulsively, but he replied in a
voice of quiet determination, "No one can help me. I shall
keep Thursday sacred to Willie, and all the other war dead,
as long as I live."

 Mary gasped, slowly unclasped her arms and returned to
her bureau. She knew better than to attempt to argue or
beguile him from this mood. "I'll be ready to go down to
breakfast with you in a moment," she said in a practical
voice.

 That afternoon, an old friend called on Mary Lincoln, the
Reverend Francis Vinton of Trinity Church, New York. To
his surprise, Mary scarcely gave him time to express his
sympathy for her loss, before taking him by the arm, she
exclaimed:

 "You are a godsend! I want you to talk to my husband.
You must do something for him or he will go mad."She told
him of the tragic Thursdays.

 "But will the President permit me to admonish him7"
asked Dr. Vinton. "After all, he is the Chief Executivel"

 "He's showing himself the Chief Fanatic, just now," cried
Mary. "You must save him for his task, Doctor."

 A little connivance with the three secretaries made it
possible for the clergyman, somewhat late in the afternoon,
to find the President alone in his office.. He greeted Vinton
without interest, then waited courteously for him to state his
errand.

 "I have come," said the clergyman, "to protest against your
indulging yourself in grief so freely that you are unfitting
yourself for your responsibilities. It is not an example of
Christian fortitude that you are showing the people, Mr.
President."

 Lincoln looked at Vinton with lack-luster eyes, wondering
dully who would come in to scold him next. In the last two
hours, Stanton, Chase, Sumner, and the entire Congressional
Committee on the Conduct of the War, had berated him in
succession for his mismanagement of various affairs.
Suddenly a phrase of Vinton's roused him.

"God is not God of the dead. Your son is alive and with
Him."

"Alive!" ejaculated Lincoln. "You believe that7"

 "I know it, dear Mr. PresidentI" The clergyman's voice
shook a little at the simplicity and pain in the question.

WILLIE 143

 "Alivel Alivel" Lincoln buried his face in his hands. Then he
looked at the clergyman. "If I could believe that I'd see Willie
again, it would give me strength to move mountains! I
reckon," with a broken, twisted smile that was partly a
contortion of pain, "I reckon it would give me strength to
move McClellan."

 Vinton was possessed of the greatest gift of the clergyman.
He was convincing. He now fixed Lincoln's gaze with his own,
and said in a voice such as Lincoln thought Christ might have
used when he bade the troubled waters be still:

"You must believe that Willie lives. I believe it."

 "And you are a man of as good intelligence as my own,"
murmured the President. "Why should my mind refuse the
faiths"

 "Because you shut yourself away with grief for your
companion, not trust and hope. Willie, himself, is troubled by
your un-wisdom, as your wife's dream shows."

"What dream?" demanded Lincoln. "Mary has a kind of
second sightl"

 "There, you see, dear Mr. Presidentl I told you you were
shutting yourself away from hope. You would not permit Mrs.
Lincoln to talk to you, freely. She dared not tell you this. Last
night, she dreamed that she heard Willie laughing. It was so
real that it woke her, she thought, and she sat up in bed, to
see Willie reading in the fire glow. She asked him why he
laughed. 'It was a pleasant way to waken you, without
frightening you,' he replied. 'I want to tell you that I'm having
a heap of fun.' . . . And that was all. The next thing she knew
it was daylight."

 "A dream?" Lincoln smiled wistfully and murmured, "We
are such stuff as dreams are made of . . . I seem to be
troubling you all a good deal, Doctor.... You give me a
curious comfort you and Mary's dream "

 "You lessen the religious faith of thousands of people when
you show yourself so rebellious to the decrees of God," said
Vinton.

 Lincoln shook his head. "You deceive yourself, Doctor. No
one has less influence than I. I wield authority, not influence."

 The clergyman smiled. "Coming down from New York, two
colored men standing near me, the train was packed, were
discussing you, Mr. President. I was astounded by their
sagacity and understanding. I'll not try to repeat all they said,
but I'll tell you how they ended. One said, 'You hear about
Massa Lincum all de time. He's on ebery rigger's lips, day
and night. He walks de earth like de Lord.' And his friend
said, 'God has hewed him out oh rock so's he can stand all de
trouble of all de people."'

 With a great sigh, as he made the renunciation, Lincoln
rose and held out his hand to Dr. Vinton. "There shall be no
more mourning Thursdays, Doctor. If I cannot walk the earth
like the Lord, I can walk it like a man, I reckon. Thank you,
sir."

 And he turned to greet a committee of Chicago business
men, whom George Nicolay was ushering in.

CHAPTER XIX

       ALL QUIET Ar ONo TEIE POTOMAC

  WO results accruing from Willie's death stood out among
many. I One was that Lincoln decided that he could not
send away, for a

~ time at least, the woman in whose arms his son had died.

 The other was that, out of the soul searchings of his
dedicated Thursdays, came a hardening of his attitude
toward McClellan. On the 8th of March word came that the
Confederates, concentrated at Manassas under Johnston,
had retreated safely thirty miles to the south, thus denying
the Army of the Potomac as cheap a victory as any general
could desire. It was after this that Lincoln wrote McClellan,
removing him from his position as General-in-Chief of all
the Northern forces, leaving him, however still at the head
of the Army of the Potomac.

 He ordered General Pope, who had been winning victories
in the campaign to clear the Mississippi, to come East and
take over the command of three army corps which Lincoln
had named The Army of Virginia. He also gave McClellan
peremptory orders to divide his army into four corps, and to
leave one corps for the proper protection of Washington
during the campaign which McClellan now proposed to
begin against Richmond.

 McClellan's written reply to Lincoln was courteous and
manly. But in the call he made on the President later, he
was bitter and insolent. Lincoln was sitting at his desk with
a supper tray Iying on his war maps, and with Mary hovering
anxiously near by. She was looking delicate and worn in her
deep mourning.

 The General made her a sweeping bow, then throwing
back his military cloak, he tossed his gauntlets and cap
beside the tray, and said in a voice trembling with emotion:

"So you fear me, Mr. Lincoln, to that extents"

 The President returned his look coldly, and took an
audible mouthful of soup. "Yes, I fear you, George."

 "Only my patriotism keeps me from resigning from the
army," cried McClellan.

 "I know that," replied Lincoln, taking up a fresh spoonful
of soup. "You've got plenty of patriotism, George. What you
lack is the kind of gumption Grant seems to have."

"Why not give Grant my place?" sneered McClellan.

 "He's doing well where he is," answered Lincoln. "I must
have at least 50,000 men to guard Washington, McClellan,
and you must clear the rebels out of the river before you
take the rest of the army south. I reckon it's not sense to
have enemy batteries between you and me."

"I must save the Unionl" exclaimed McClellan, "but I must
allow my

"ALL QUIET ALONG THE POTOMAC" 145

self to be directed by imbeciles! I know your game, Lincolul
You don't want to save the Union, that's why you seek to
destroy me."

 Mary uttered an angry exclamation, clapped her hand over
her mouth and fled from the room. For a long moment, there
was silence. Lincoln pushed his tray aside, clasped his knee
and stared at the fire, while he sought for words in which to
reach the young General.

 "My suspicion is this, George. Jeff Davis knows that you are
susceptible to flattery. He knows you are politically ambitious.
He knows that you are a Democrat, willing to let slavery
alone, if only you can save the Union. There's a pretty
well-organized gang in this neighborhood seeing to it that
you're kept in the frame of mind that you're in now. In fact,
that Miss Ford, who's been living with us going on ten
months, is an active member of the gang, I suspect."

 McClellan stared, incredulity and anger struggling for
supremacy in his face. "You needn't drag a woman into this
insult."

"She wouldn't consider it an insult," returned Lincoln, coolly.

 "I shall tell her your opinion of herl" cried the general. "If
such are your suspicions, what right have you to have her
here?"

 "I have no right," replied Lincoln, catching his breath as the
picture he never was to forget flashed before him, of the
dying boy in the Virginian's enfolding arms.... He gave
McClellan a clear glance. "Shall we have her in and talk it
over?"

 "By all meansl" exclaimed the general. "It will give me
exquisite pleasure to see this friend of my boyhood accused
of treason!"

 Lincoln rang the bell and gave lames his order. Neither
man spoke during the interval before Miss Ford came in.
When the froufrou of her skirts announced her approach,
Lincoln rose and took his place near the mantel.

 She was in full evening dress; a pale green moire antique
with a train two yards long, of green velvet. It was cut so low
that no mere man could imagine what kept the bodice in
place. The great hoop, the train, the fan of enormous ostrich
plumes, the mass of curls in her neck, her unusual
height, she was as impressive, thought the President, as the
drum major of a crack regiment.

 McClellan bowed over her hand. "Lady Ford, you look fit
to devastate hearts, to-night! Even more fit than usuall"

 She smiled. "Mr. Russell is taking me to the theater quite
an innocuous evening, I assure you, George."

 "Sister Ford," said Lincoln, "the gentleman accuses me of
insulting you when I tell him of certain suspicions of mine."
He repeated his words of the earlier moment and paused.

 The Virginian looked from one man to the other, smiling
serenely. "But, George, that's not an insultl Of course, I've
done everything I can to bolster up your self-confidence, and,
of course, I've done all I can to make Greeley, Raymond, et
al., tell the idiotic public that they must support the one
military genius the war has so far produced. Is that
treasonable?"

McClellan gave the President a triumphant glance. Lincoln's
first im

146 FOREVER FREE

pulse was to tell all that Mary had repeated to him. His
natural caution intervened. But, still, the meeting had
performed its purpose. He was convinced that McClellan
was entirely unconscious of being regarded as a pawn by
whatever clique the Virginian represented.

 "The President," exclaimed McClellan, "has accused me, as
you know, of possessing a secret, some secret that keeps
me from following his,  pardon me, his absurd plans for
taking Richmond. He wishes me to make a direct attack
from Washington. I wish to attack from the lower Chesa-
peake. Therefore I have a treasonable secret." He shrugged
his broad shoulders, then added with a quick change from
the sardonic to the condemnatory, "He has not yet replied
to my accusation that he does not want to save the Union."

 "Give me details, George," urged Lincoln. "How have I
given you that impression?"

 "By doing all that you can to hamper and ignore the one
soldier in the country capable of saving the Union," replied
the general promptly.

 "No, no, Georgel You're stupid in thatl" protested Miss
Ford. "Mr. Lincoln is trying his utmost in his own way to
support you. What I accuse him of, since this seems to be
a sort of Truth game, I accuse him of giving far more
attention to his hope of freeing the slaves than he does to
putting down the Rebellion. The Union doesn't come first
with him."

 "By sings," exclaimed the President, "in the game of tag,
you're the next 'it,' Sister Fordl You're stupid, now. If the
so-called Confederacy is successful, of what avail for me to
talk of freeing slaves7 The Union must he savedl That is the
very foundation of every move I make. But" he paused,
then went on with an earnestness that caused both his
hearers to change color "but the more this war is
prolonged, the more emancipation will press on me as a
military necessity. If time goes on with no marked successful
action by our armies, I shall be obliged to cripple the
military superiority of the South by freeing the slaves in the
rebellious States. If this war is prolonged, England and
France will find a pretext for interfering, to aid the South.
This pretext will be based on the hypocrisy of our Federal
Government in countenancing slavery, while attempting to
put down a slaveholder's rebellion. Public opinion in
England is all for the South. An emancipation proclamation
would leave Europe not a leg to stand to justify intervention.
Do I make myself clear?"

 "Yesl" cried McClellan. "Knowing that I have no desire to
interfere with the institution of slavery, you hold
emancipation over me as a club to drive me into a campaign
with an enemy of double my numbers."

 Lincoln groaned, and ran his fingers through his hair till
it stood on end. Then he walked back to his desk and began
to eat his frugal supper. McClellan bowed to Miss Ford and
strode from the room. The Virginian warmed her long
fingers thoughtfully at the grate, the fire glow turning her
pearls to rubies. Mary, who had observed McClellan's flight,
came in through the private door. She gave Miss Ford a not
altogether admiring glance.

"ALL QUIET ALONG THE POTOMAC" 147

"Mr. Russell is in the sitting room, Miss Ford," she said.

"Thank you," replied the Virginian, continuing to warm her
hands.

 "Abra'm, let me send for some warm food for youl You
haven't eaten enough to-day to nourish a sparrow." Mary put
a pleading hand on her husband's shoulder.

 Lincoln shook his head and continued his attack on cold
potatoes and gravy. His common sense was urging him to
send the Virginian away, now. His intuition was insisting that
he hold her at the White House, his intuition and his love
for Willie.

 "I would like very much," drawled Miss Ford, "to visit my
sister in Baltimore for a week or so. I am a little tired."

 Mary's hard glance instantly softened. "You poor soon You
must be, after all these weeks of nursing. Only don't tell
Taddiel He'll make such a fussl"

 "No, I'll slip away to-morrow if Mrs. Lincoln could let me
have my month's stipend a little in advancer" raising her eyes
with an air of embarrassment that became her well.

 "Of courser Whenever you wish it." It embarrassed Mary, in
turn, to think of wages in connection with this gorgeous
creature.

 "Thank you, dear Mrs. Lincoln. I'll go to that blessed
Englishman then. He'll be purple with impatience!" and she
made a splendid, undulating exit.

 Mary turned to the President with a wistful twinkle. "She
keeps me in my place just by the way she wears her
crinoline!"

 "Jinny and Mrs. Keckley will keep us informed about this
new move, won't they7" asked Lincoln.

 "Yes," replied Mary. "Abratm, I really am afraid of her.
There's something of the tiger in her."

 "So am I afraid of her, but only through what she may be
able to do to McClellan.... What a pityl What a pityl ... Well,
maybe he really intends to move, nowl"

"Abra'm, who will be the new General-in-Chief7" asked Mary.

 "By jings, the next fellow that gets that job'll earn it by
having some real battles behind himl" cried the President.
"Ah, Charles," as Senator Sumner came in, "prompt as usuall
I wanted to hear of the day's work at your factory up yonder
on Compensated Abolishment."

 Sumner was holding both of Mary's hands in his. He looked
her over, shaking his head, then still holding her hands, he
turned to Lincoln. "This dear person needs a change. Send
her to New York for a little while."

 "Nol Nol" cried Mary, quick tears springing to her eyes at
the touch of sympathy. "I can't leave Mr. Lincoln or Taddie.
I'm fatuous enough to believe that neither can do without
me."

Lincoln nodded at the tray. "I'm one of her children, you
know, Charles."

 "Yes, I understand. You are a fortunate man, Mr.
President." Sumner's delightful smile gleamed as he bowed to
Mary.

8 FOREVER FREE

  "And you are a good friend," declared Mary, picking up
the tray and walking out.

  Miss Ford, of course, stayed only a few days in Baltimore.
She then made a cross-country trip to the Ford plantation,
a few miles north of Fairfax Courthouse. Appropriately
enough, she reached there late at night in a driving
rainstorm. She and Jinny, wrapped in a tarpaulin on the rear
seat of the carryall, were wet and cold, when the
mud-plastered horse brought up before the portico, the
pillars of which were fitfully revealed by a lantern in the
hands of old Uncle Bob, who was the only house servant
remaining to the Fords.

  "Fire in de den, Miss Lady," said the old man, leading the
way into the house. "Only jes' enough cheers and sich for dat
room left in de whole place. Seems like ebery time Massa
Lincum needs a cheer or a table he sent here for it."
Something like a chuckle escaped him.

  "You dare to laugh, you fool nigger7" exclaimed the
Virginian, furiously. "What do you mean by it7" slashing her
wet gauntlets across the back of the negro's neck.

  He rubbed his neck philosophically. "Like ol' timesl" he
grunted. "Masse Taylor, he waitin' to' yo', Miss Lady,"
pushing open a door.

  A small, square room, lined with books and hunting prints.
A huge center table, littered with spurs, riding whips, wine
glasses. A white marble Replace two caryatids supporting
the mantel and Captain Taylor in the uniform of a Federal
gunner drying his wet back before the flames. The two
greeted each other quietly, as if each was oppressed by
responsibility. tinny took off her mistress's wet green cloak,
then went out, closing the door behind her.

  Miss Ford sank into the chair Taylor placed for her. "How
much time have you, Tom7"

  "I dare not risk staying here a moment after you and I
have exchanged views.... What's Lincoln's state of mind7"

  "I can best report that to you by telling you of my
conversation with him the day before I left." She repeated
the interview with herself and McClellan.

  Taylor listened with intense interest. When she had
finished he said, abruptly, "That ought to persuade Jeff
Davis, finally, that Lincoln is no fool. What's the status of
Compensated Abolishment?"

  "Sumner in the Senate and Arnold in the House will try to
force that through as a recommendation, and Lincoln's going
to get through his ancient bill, twenty years or so old, that he
tried to get passed when he was a Congressman for freeing
the riggers in the District of Columbia. He's arranging to
have public schools for nigger brats, in Washington."

  "Nothing like fanning the flames to keep the rebellion
hot," commented Taylor.

  "Compensated Abolishment will never pass with the border
States. That's not what worries me," Miss Ford declared.
"What I fear is that

"ALL QUIET ALONG THE POTOMAC" 149

they will refuse too quickly. As long as we can keep Lincoln
hoping for that, he'll let immediate emancipation alone."

  "The border States are hard to manage," Taylor shook his
head. "The presence of the Yankee troops in them is making
the riggers awful impudent and uneasy, and intimidating our
loyalists. But we'll do what we can. What's your feeling about
McClellan7"

  "He'll have to begin his march on Richmond or the country
will force Lincoln to remove him. You know his plans, don't
your"

  The captain nodded. "Our military spies really are good,
you know. What a fool he was not to have taken Lincoln's
plan, before Johnston got away from Manassasl . . . Quick
actionl How can we get quick action with McClellan7"

  "By making him believe his patriotic duty is to lead the
Army of the Potomac against Washington, and make himself
dictator before he starts for Richmond. That done, the next
move must come from the Southern Unionists. They must
offer to make peace and return to the Union, provided the
sanction of slavery is written into the Constitution. Can that
be done?"

  "I think General Lee would favor it," replied Taylor,
carefully. "That dictator idea might work both ways. Lee and
McClellan at the head of the armies could control the whole
situation, if they were determined to do so."

  The two stared at each other, faces pale with the magnitude
of the suggestion. After a short silence, Taylor said:

  "You're right. We must work rapidly. If worst comes to
worst, we'll have to get rid of Sumner, Arnold, even
Lincoln a stray bullet, you know."

  "Nol Neverl" breathed the Virginian, clutching at her heart.
"Never assassination, Toml"

  "Names of things don't weigh, in war," said the captain,
quietly. "What difference does it make whether a
sharp-shooter works on the field and kills a general, or in the
city and kills the Commander-in-Chief7 When I entered this
work I cast behind me all my old ideas of decency and fair
play as I've told you. There's no such thing in war, and I
used to pride myself on my delicate sense of honorl As far as
that's concerned, you used to be the only woman I ever knew
who could be trusted."

  A twist of pain contracted Miss Ford's fine lips. "I know,
Toml But not assassination!"

  The officer pulled at his mustache and eyed her keenly. "In
love with Lincoln, Lady?"

  She lifted her head haughtily, caught the keen, yet
compassionate look in his blue eyes, hesitated and then with
the calm dignity that hushed any comment on Taylor's lips,
she said:

  "I would cast the whole of my influence and interest in
slavery into his lap, if he would give me one half the feeling
I have for him."

"Does he know that7"

"Yes."

150 FOREVER FREE
 "And he is impregnable7"

"He is impregnable," said Miss Ford.

 Taylor sighed deeply, tested a cigar, drying on the hearth,
then laid his hand on the Virginian's knee:

 "I'm sorry, Lady. It never occurred to me you were playing
with fire and liable to be scorched. You haven't been
South for a year, so you can't understand the degree to
which Lincoln is hated, and Sumner too. If they keep on
tampering with slavery, they'll both of them be shot. Well,
it's all a dirty business. I wish to God it was over. I'll report
to President Davis within a week."

 "Not with regard to Lee and the dictatorship, I should
hoper" ejaculated Miss Ford.

 "HardlyI" with a cynical laugh. "There are plenty of people
dissatisfied with Davis, Lady. Plenty of people who would be
glad to end the war and return to the Union, if only they
can keep their riggers. My idea is that the thing should be
done before summer, before Lincoln's Compensated
Abolishment hopes peter out." He rose and began to draw
on his sodden blue coat. "You'll hear from me by the usual
route."

 "Did Uncle Bob feed you, Tom7" reaching out to touch
the wet skirts of his coat. "I hope you'll not take cold."

 "The old fellow gave me his last plate of 'hog and hominy,'
I'd say, from the look of it. No," as she moved to ring the
bell, "I have had plenty. As for cold " Captain Taylor
suddenly put his hand under the Virginian's chin and lifted
her face "Lady, do you really care whether I die of cold or
a bullet? Before the war, I thought I had a chance with you."
His hawklike face was very appealing.

 Miss Ford's eyes filled with tears. "Sometimes I think
you're the only real friend I have in the world, Tom."

 He stooped and kissed her. "Well, that's something!" he
said with a little smile, and gathered up his gloves and cap.

 When he had gone, Miss Ford rang for Jinny and told her
to serve supper. They had brought a hamper of food in the
carryall.

 "I'll sleep on the sofa here, before the fire," she added.
"We'll start back for Baltimore at dawn."

 A week later, the President, ringing for a clean towel, was
a bit staggered when Jinny marched into his room. She was
a pretty young mulatto, almost as tall as her mistress, but
much more slender, with a round saucy face and intelligent
brown eyes.

 It was barely daylight. Lincoln had had a bad night and
was rising early for a walk in the garden to clear his mind.
He stood before the washstand in trousers and undershirt,
splashing water on his face as Jinny appeared.

"You're the only one up, eh, Jinny7" he asked.

 "No, sir, I made James give me the job. Massa Lincum, I
ain't gain' to bus' this to no Lizzie Keckley. I'm telling you
my own self. I heard ebery word with my own ear at Miss
Lady's keyhole." Flourishing one of the

"ALL QUIET ALONG THE POTOMAC" 151

towels, she repeated, almost verbatim, the conversation
between Miss Ford and Captain Taylor.

 The President towered himself vigorously and brushed his
hair while listening to the recital. When she had finished he
said:

"Jinny, have you repeated this to any one else?"

"Not a libin' soul, Massa Lincum."

 "That's fine. Promise me that you won't repeat it, either!"
reaching for his clean shirt.

 "I promise, Massa Lincum. You going to scald an' roast
'em, ain't you, sir?"

 "God's going to do that, Jinny. All you and I can do is to
worry along, day by day. You are a good friend, Jinny. I'm
obliged to you."

 The door flew open and James appeared. "What you doing
here, Jinny7 That was my belll"

 "Which bell? The one that rang yesterday?" demanded
Jinny. "Come out of here, niggerl Don't you suppose Massa
Lincum wants his privacy?"

 Lincoln smiled as the door closed abruptly. Smiled and
then sighed. How could he work faster and still faster to best
the malignancy that Jinny once more brought home to him.
And, after all, he had been right in keen ing Miss Ford. What
simpler way was there for him to keep himself informed
regarding McClellan?

                CHAPTER XX
            rIARRISON S LANDING

T INCOLN entered his office, morning after the interview
with L Jinny, fully determined to put Grant in McClellan's
place. But, as

   if McClellan had sensed that he had stretched the
President's patience to the limit, the first telegram that met
his eyes as he stood over his desk was one from McClellan.
He informed Lincoln that that morning the first regiments
were embarking on the vessels which were to carry the army
down the Chesapeake to Fortress Monroe from which the
march on Richmond was to begin.

 Lincoln read it and burst into a cheer as he rushed into
the secretaries' office to share his relief. He found William
Russell there, and brought him back to his office to show
him a sample of gunpowder.

 "Get your knapsack packed, my boyl" exclaimed Lincoln,
as he led the Englishman into the room. "You'll be in
Richmond in a month."

 Russell shook his head. "Mr. Secretary Stanton will not
give me a pass. He too, calls me 'Bull Run Russell."'

 "Shucks! That's too bad," declared Lincoln. "Don't you
worry, boy. I'll send you along, William, with a pass that'll
carry you plumb to Richmondl Look herel Look at the
sample of powder some one's trying to sell Uncle Sam. Any
backwoodsman is a judge of powder. I'll wager a first-class
carpetbag against that valise you're carrying, William, that
there's too much ash left by this stuff."

 Lincoln walked over to the grate, sprinkled some of the
powder on the hearth and applied the hot poker to it. When
the smoke had cleared away he pointed to the ridge of grey
ash with an air of mingled triumph and despondency.

"I told you so! I wonder who is honestI"

  Russell stood beside the window, silently looking out on
the distant river. Lincoln dusted off his hands, removed his
spectacles and slowly crossed the room to join him in gazing
at the far, magic view.

  "Your offer is generous, sir," said the correspondent,
finally, "but I've decided to give up and go home. This is a
farewell visit to you. There is no getting news for a reporter
who is forced down the throats of army headquarters. Not
only am I 'Bull Run Russell,' but I am British, and, so,
abhorrent to the American people. I cannot recall ever
having received such treatment in a civilized, or, for that
matter, a barbarous country, in any of my somewhat
extensive travels."

  "I reckon we lead the world here in America in not being
able to see beyond our noses, William," agreed the
President, thinking sadly of Willie's exclamation after the
funeral of Colonel Baker. "I was ashamed of

HARRISON'S LANDING 153

America, Papa day." Then he added aloud, "I reckon, too,
that the curse, as well as the privilege, of a democracy is
self-conceit. Class distinctions keep that down a little, in
Europe, I should suppose."

 Russell, obviously in no mood for philosophy, smiled
ruefully and nodded.

 "I'm sorry to have you go, William, and I'm glad too," said
Lincoln, "because I've got an errand for you." He turned from
the window and paced the length of the room and back,
stopping to look long and sadly from the window, his tired
eyes deep sunk in his head, lines about his mouth that had
not been there six months before. "I want you to take a
message for me to Queen Victoria."

"I7" ejaculated Russell.

  "Yes, you, because you're British and because you know me
and I know you. I want you to talk to the Queen; just sit
down and have a good long evening with her. She's full of
horse-sense, I believe. You tell her what I'm trying to do and
ask her to call off her dogs till I can do it. Tell her her folks
are worrying me more than my own, which is saying a good
deal. Ask her to play fair and keep out of it. She's a nice
sensible woman, and once she learns what my ideas and
troubles are, I believe she'll sympathize. Ask her to do this,
Russell, in the name of common humanity."

  He paused, surveying the war correspondent eagerly and
anxiously. He admired Russell. From the very hrst he had
seen him as a distinguished person, whose exceptional
qualities were quite lost on the American public.

  Russell returned his look, clearly. "You ask me to do that,
sir, knowing that I must be bitter against Americans7"

  "I don't blame you for being bitter," Lincoln jerked his
head in agreement. "Tell her about that too. But what I know
is that you're not bitter against the thing this Administration
is trying to do that's the important point. Can't you meet up
with the Queen?"

  "Yes, Mr. Lincoln, I can arrange that. Look here, sirl" with
a little smile. "I'll drive a bargain with you. If I undertake to
deliver your message, will you agree to this: When the next
crisis arises between this country and England, will you see
Lord Lyons, yourself, and give him an opportunity to learn
your views, first handy"

"I'll do that," declared Lincoln.

  "The bargain is completed!" Russell held his hand. "Almost,
sir, you have reconciled me to going home."

  The President held Russell's hand, while he said with the
smile that made his face beautiful, "When this war is over, my
wife and I are going to pawn the court jewels and take a trip
around the world. And we'll look to find you."

  "I'll go with you, as your courier, sirl" exclaimed Russell.
"God bless you and your great cause, Mr. Lincoln."

  "Thank you, William. In the long run, I reckon He's the
only one who can bless the causer"

54 FOREVER FREE

 Russell picked up his dispatch case and went out to say
good-by to his other friends in the household.

 From that day on, for months7 every event in the United
States was secondary in Lincoln's mind to what was
happening to McClellan and his army. Through the War Of
lice where he spent many hours out of every twenty-four, he
watched the progress of that great campaign, on the Pen-
insula, with breathless7 soul-wearing concern. But as day
succeeded day, he worked no closer to an understanding of
the young General-in-Chief than had Stanton7 who in a
single day had run the gamut from pronouncing McClellan
the greatest strategist that ever lived, to sending him as a
criminal fool to perdition.

 McClellan, in Lincoln's words, fooled April away in
gingerly approaching by siege methods Rebel fortification
that could have been taken by assault. But during May, he
worked his way to within four miles of Richmond. The
North was a tip-toe with hope and enthusiasm. McClellan
was a young military god he was great as Napoleon was
great. And then, within sight of his goal, McClellan paused,
dallied, called for reenforcementsl

 His entire campaign on the Peninsula, indeed, was marked
by continuous shrill cries for more men. Lincoln and
Stanton, walking the floor, in the War Office, strained the
resources of the country to the utmost to send him all he
demanded. But when, at last, he demanded a hundred
thousand reenforcements, Stanton balked.

 "If we had a million men, he'd swear the enemy had two
millions and then he would sit down in the mud and yell for
three. The fool has given the Rebels what they needed, time,
and he'll be retreating next, see if he's not."

 "Oh, I can't believe thatI" protested Lincoln. "Why he's
almost on top of Richmond now."

"He'll never get his nerve up to assault the town," growled
Stanton.

  "Do you mean to tell me that after all this superb fighting
by our men, McClellan's not enough of a military man to
seize his victory? Come, Stanton, you're not fair to
McClellan."

"You'll seer" retorted Stanton, with an oath.

  And Lincoln did see. On the last day of June, McClellan
sent a dispatch stating that after terrible fighting and losses,
he had ordered his army to retreat. His telegram was
couched in terms showing such a state of mental panic on
the part of the writer, that after his first reaction of anger
and dismay, Lincoln decided to ignore the mutinous
insolence of its manner.

  "Save the army at all events," he replied. "I feel any
misfortune to you or the army as keenly as you feel it,
yourself."

  McClellan's answer to this was a dispatch, a very lengthy
one, incoherent and threatening in its tone, from which the
startled President deduced that the Army of the Potomac
virtually had been wiped out.

HARRISON'S LANDING 155

 "Save what you can of men and supplies, even if you have
to retire to Washington," he wired.

 Two hours later, Stanton rushed into Lincoln's office with
the reply, addressed to the Secretary of War.

"Read thisl Read thist" he shouted.

  Lincoln read, wincing as he did so, a virulent attack on
himself and Stanton for their criminal neglect of the Army of
the Potomac, which ended with this astounding accusation!

  "If I save this army now, I tell you plainly that I owe no
thanks to you or any other person in Washington. You have
done your best to sacrifice this army."

  Stanton danced about the room, cursing bitterly. "Hold on,
Stanton," protested the President. "No use acting like an old
horse with a gadfly on his rump. Let's figure this thing out
with our heads, not our heels.

  "McClellan started on this trip 120,000 strong. We've sent
him 4o,ooo more. What does he do with his soldiers? Are
they lost on the way, like a fellow carrying fleas across the
barn floor with a shovel7"

  Stanton, as he listened to the President's homely phrasing,
began to cool down. "It's his cowardly hallucination as to the
numbers of the enemy, the damn fool. The Rebels' Peninsula
forces all told aren't over so,ooo men. Their losses have been
as great as ours which don't total zo,ooo. I tell you the man
is either crooked or a coward."

  "If it were not for these good fellows out West and around
New Orleans, gnawing at the Rebels' vitals, I'd feel as if the
bottom was out of everything," declared Lincoln. "But with
folks like Halleck, Hunter, Burnside, Grant, and Farragut
upholding each other's fists, I can't quite despair. Reckon I'd
better go down to Harrison's Landing and have a talk with
McClellan, and see if I can sift out the facts. Will you come
with met"

  Stanton shook his head. "Guess I'd better not. Our baby is
sick and I must be ready to go into the country to see him,
whenever Mrs. Stanton sends for me to see him die."

"Is it that bad7 Stanton, go to your wife nowl I'll take your
place."

  Again the Secretary of War shook his head. The two men
gave each other a look of sympathy and understanding, then
Stanton said, "Even were I not held by domestic affliction, I'd
doubt the wisdom of my going. McClellan claims friendship
to my face and applies vile and opprobrious epithets to me
behind my back."

  "Speaking of epithets," Lincoln's eyes twinkled, "did you
hear of my repartee with Lovejoy, the man I sent to you, this
mornings"

  Stanton, scowling a little, looked at the President over his
spectacles with doubt and some irritation in his eyes. "I have
no time for repartee, myself," he grumbled.

  "Might as well say you have no time to smiler" exclaimed
Lincoln. "Lovejoy came back after I'd sent him to you and
said that you read my message with the remark that Lincoln
was a damn fool. I told him that

156 FOREVER FREE

if you said it was so, it must be so, for you were nearly always
right." Stanton's color rose immediately. "He should not have
repeated words spoken in irritation. Your request was
unreasonable, sir, and I was obliged to refuse you."

 Lincoln pursed his lips speculatively. Stanton was one of
the most able men he had ever met, but he was also the
most irascible. He was as heady with power as Seward, but
lacked Seward's charming sense of humor and his good
nature. In spite of the fact that he knew that Stanton, before
his induction into the Secretarvship, had tried to incite Mc-
Clellan to turn dictator, in spite of the vile remarks Stanton
had made about his personal appearance, Lincoln's
enormous trust in the man's integrity and ability gave him a
curious sort of liking for him. He was determined that
Stanton should come into line, admit his leadership, and
become his friend.

 "Stanton," he said, "you fritter away an awful lot of energy
on merely getting even. Personal grudges don't pay. Now you
do as Lovejoy wants, forgetting that you hate him."

"Nor" thundered Stanton.

  "I reckon here's where the foot goes down." Lincoln did
not lift his voice, but his face was suddenly stone. "You are
to do as Lovejoy wishes, Stanton."

  Silence. The July heat in the office almost overpowering,
sweat running down the faces of both men. Lincoln holding
his knee, patiently. Stanton tugging at his beard, then
gathering up the papers

"It shall be done as the Chief Executive commands," he said,
hoarsely.

  "That's right, Stanton," Lincoln nodded, casually, and
turned to a map of Tennessee. "I have written to Halleck to
come down here as General-inChief. His record would
warrant it. Grant can take over the Department of the
West."

  "You have already written him, and without consulting
met" ejaculated Stanton.

  "Without consulting any one," replied the President. "I've
studied Halleck more than any of you. His only weakness is
lack of decisiveness. Grant supplied that in the West. You'll
supply it here. He'll be here the last of July, and we'll sic
him onto McClellan. In the meantime, as I've said, I'll go
down to Harrison's Landing, where this telegram is from.
Hope he stays there long enough for me to catch him! Come
to think of it, I needn't wait until to-morrow. I'll borrow
John Hay, and we'll go down to-night."

  And go he did, reaching McClellan's camp forty-eight
hours after leaving Washington.

  He made no effort to see McClellan alone, for he was
utterly weary of arguing with the general. He hoped only to
gather together enough facts to make a final sweeping war
policy. He did not permit himself to use any portion of his
mind, during his few hours at Harrison's Landing, on any
other matter save what he was seeing and hearing.

HARRISON'S LANDING 157

 He viewed the beautifully ordered camp, sweltering in the July
moonlight. He slapped mosquitoes and listened to McClellan and his
generals discuss the next move of the Army of the Potomac. He
issued no orders, though he expressed anxiety as to the health of the
soldiers, carrying on a summer campaign in the wretched climate of
the Peninsula. The smell of the pines, of the hot, dew-wet sands, of
leather accouterments, of horses, of ammunition, depressed him. It
had the tang of death in it. The voice of the river sliding between its
low banks gave him a vague feeling of homesickness. He had been
bred in a land of rivers.

 But he learned the facts which he had come to learn. However
panicstricken McClellan was, there was no panic among his officers
and men. The majority of his generals believed they were in no
danger from the enemy, and were not in favor of a retreat. He
learned that the army that remained numbered about go,ooo men,
with the astounding number of 40,ooo absent with authority. He
learned that supplies were adequate, the men as well cared for, as
such an arduous campaign could permit.

 At midnight he started back for Fortress Monroe and Washington.
Just before stepping aboard the gunboat that was to convey him and
John Hay down the James, McClellan handed Lincoln a letter. The
President read it by the light of a lantern, thanked McClellan for it,
casually, and put it in his pocket. Even its contents, he told himself,
must not permit him to quarrel with McClellan.

      Yet it was as outrageous a document ever a soldier
penned to his supe
rior officer.

 It presumed to instruct the President as to his duties and power,
and warned him against any forcible interference with slavery,
declaring that any such attempt on Lincoln's part would rapidly
disintegrate the Federal armies.

 Its phrases rankled, and after they had left Fortress Monroe and
were on the transport for Washington, Lincoln gave the note to John
Hay to read. The young man held it close to a ship's lantern and
devoured the contents with much muttering and snorting.

 "You'll have to court-martial him for thatl" he declared, hoarse
with indignation when he had finished.

 "I don't know what I'm going to do," replied Lincoln. "That letter
don't amount to so much in itself, except as showing up his dreams.
He'd like to have my job, winning back the South by promises about
protecting slavery. I suppose I must consider that particular dream,
when I make my decisions about what to do with him but it won't
influence me greatly. I've got to think of him in his relation to his
army, and the war, not to me."

 He leaned back in the chair which had been placed for him in the
prow of the little vessel, and struggled to clear his mind of all the
countless problems that rendered a complete concentration on
McClellan nearly impossible. He found this so difficult that finally
he had recourse to an old remedy. He turned to poetry.

8 FOREVER FREE

 It was nearing dawn. Dim shore lines and soft salt air were
soothing to sight and sense.

 "Do you know Browning, John7" asked Lincoln. Then,
without waiting for a reply, he repeated in a low monotone:

". . . The hills like giants at a hunting lay, Chin upon hand, to
see the game at bay,  'Now stab and end the
creature to the heftl' Not hear? When noise was
everywhere! It tolled Unceasing like a bell. Names in my
ears, Of all the lost adventurers, my peers . . . There they
stood, ranged along the hillside, met To view the last of
me, a living frame For one more picture! In a sheet of
flame I saw them and I knew them all. And yet Dauntless
the slung horn to my lips I set, And blew. - 'Childe Roland
to the Dark Tower Came.'"

 He rose as he finished and stood beside the rail, a giant,
John thought, against the pallid sky. After a moment of
thought, he went back to the opening lines of the
tremendous poem and repeated the whole of it.

John Hay sat in awed silence.

 After Lincoln had completed the last verse again, the two
remained listening to the chug-chug of the paddle wheel, the
rush of wind and water for a long moment.

 "But he hasn't the humanness of Shakespeare," said
Lincoln. 'Make King John, for example." He recited several
long excerpts ending with Constance's immortal query,

"And, father cardinal, I have heard you say
 That we shall see and know our friends in Heaven.
 If that be true, I shall see my boy again,"

 He caught his head in his hands and pressed it with a
deep groan. "If that be true aye that's the rubl" Then he
laid a gentle hand on young Hay's tired shoulder. "Come,
John, let's see if these folks will give us breakfast."

                CHAPTER XXI
   CBILDE ROLAND TO THE DARK TOWER CAME

HEY reached the White House in the late afternoon.
Lincoln asked the doorman, at once, for his wife. He felt a
deep need to

- draw on Mary's affection.

  'Well, Mr. President," said the old Irishman, deliberately,
"she's having a little trouble with the general public, out by
the south portico. You know you said the Wednesday
afternoon concerts Mrs. Lincoln called off after Master
Willie's death, could begin again. Mrs. Lincoln she's just
went out and ordered the Marine Band to go home, and
folks are pretty mad about it."

"Where's Taddie, Daniel?" asked Lincoln, wearily.

  "Hea' I am, Papa day," shouted Tad, racing up in a linen
suit well smeared with chocolate lollypop. "I've been
watching to' you all the time and then you get in without my
noticing!"

  Lincoln caught him up and kissed him several times. "Let's
go find mother, Taddie darling. Where is she7"

  "On the south po'tico. Guess she's awful mad. Let's go up
stat's and see what you b'ought me. Did you b'ing me
something, Papa day?"

  "Yes, a rifle one of the soldiers gave me that was through
the Seven Days' Battle. It's with my stuff." The President
strode through the hall to the south portico.

  The leader of the Marine Band was standing before Mary
looking down at the little figure in black organdie with anger
and embarrassment struggling in his face. Behind Mary were
Miss Ford, Charles Sumner and pretty Kate Chase. On the
lawns below was a concourse of people gathered in
gesticulating groups.

  Lincoln bowed to the three behind Mary and, placing his
hand on his wife's arm, said:

  "I want to borrow my wife for a moment, Scala. Wait here
till we come back."

"But, Abra'm," cried Mary excitedly, "you must not "

  Lincoln led her away. "HushI" he said in a voice so low
only Mary and the band leader heard him, so fraught with
command that Mary caught her breath as if choked.

  He led her to the far end of the portico, moving slowly,
for they were watched by a thousand eyes.

  "Maryl Maryl Maryl Are you insane? Do you hope to
force all the people of Washington to share your grief by
antagonising theme"

  She looked up at him, her blue eyes blazing, but he gave
her no opportunity to speak.

160 FOREVER FREE

 "What would Willie say if he knew that you were depriving
people of music because of him7"

 "It's not thatI" cried Mary. "You ought to know me better
than that. It's just that I can't bear to hear music since he
left us. It kills my heart. And the Marine Band is the worst
because its music is so exquisite."

 "I knowl" Quick tears softened Lincoln's eyes. -
"But Stanton's baby is dying. Will Mrs. Stanton make rows
for Stanton to clear up, in the name of their dead boy?"

 "Abratml Abra'ml My cursed tongue!" Mary freed her
hand from her husband's and rushed back to the band
leader. "Captain Scala, my husband shows me that I've not
made myself clear. I'm not expecting others to mourn with
me. I've been stupid and selfish. I've not wanted you to play
your lovely music because it is so lovely that it makes my
heart bleed again. I've been stupid and hysterical. Will you
not forgive me and give the people the concert you
planned7"

 The anger left Scala's flushed face. "Why didn't you say
that in the beginning, my dear Mrs. Lincoln?"

 "Because I have the awful weakness of speaking with
irritation first and thinking with regret afterward!" Mary
smiled wistfully up into the band leader's eyes. "I've fought
it all my life, but the stress of these days makes it very
difficult for me."

 She spoke with that endearing childishness so
characteristic of her. The little group behind her smiled,
sympathetically. Scala bowed over her small, soft hand.

 "Takes a good deal of strength, I'd say, Madam President,
to 'fess up like that. Thank your" looking at her with new
respect. "These folks have got to thank you, too."

 He moved quickly to the edge of the portico and in a few
simple words gave them Mary's reason for her unreasonable
request. Mary and Lincoln slipped into the house as he
began to speak, but the vigorous handclapping that followed
Scala's statement reached them as they climbed the stairs
and a few minutes later the notes of a waltz floated in at the
windows of Mary's bedroom, whither Lincoln had led her.

"Will it be too much for you7" he asked, looking at her
flushed cheeks.

 "Nor" she replied. "That particular foolishness is ended. Sit
in that big chair, Abra'm, and let me fan you. We ought to
go out to the Soldiers' Home to-night."

 "A fan is my idea of nothingness!" ejaculated the President.
"Just have Taddie here and let's have a family moment, if
possible. I must get a little letup."

 "And I bring you home to a scene!" Mary gave a
heartbroken sigh as she pulled the bell rope.

 Taddie flew in, grimy, round cheeks runneled with
perspiration, a rifle as tall as himself in his arms. He rested
it on the back of a chair, and pointed it at his mother.

"See what Papa day b'ought me!" he shouted.

CHILDE ROLAND TO THE DARK TOWER CAME
161

  Lincoln leaped from his place and took the gun. "Don't
ever point at anybody, Tadl" he exclaimed with an apologetic
glance at his wife, and wondering for the first time if this
were the wisest gift for a boy.

  Tad shrieked for the return of his gun. Mary sat on the
ottoman, a little set smile on her lips.

  Suddenly Lincoln laughed. "You're not going to complain,
even if your son shoots you, eh, wife? Bless you! Reckon I've
made a fool of myself, in my turn. Come here, Taddie
darling."

  It required some long negotiation but eventually Taddie
was the recipient of a silver dollar, and the gun was removed
by Louis.

  "Nowl" the President settled back in his chair, with Tad on
his knee and Mary's hand in his, "now, for a little solid
comfort! Tad, tell me all the bad things you did while I was
away, and all the punishments mother gave you for them."

  "She didn't know about most of 'em," retorted Tad. "I did
the baddest one to Miss Fo'd and she neve' tells. Will you
spank me, mamma, if I tell now?"

  "Of course not, goosie," smiled his mother. "Do you think
I'd spoil the one precious moment alone with your father in
months?"

  "Well, I took my goat to bed with me and you know,"
looking up into his father's face with eyes of angelic
innocence, "it's funny how goat smell makes some folks mad,
isn't it? Miss Fo'd acted madda' about the smell than about
the things he chewed up. Now I don't notice my goat smell at
all. It "

  He paused to listen, half puzzled and half gratified, to his
father's shout of laughter

  "Some one is at the do'," he said at last, watching his father
mop the tears from his eyes. "So I can't tell you what he
chewed."

  "Run and open the door, Taddie," sighed his mother. The
precious moment evidently was gone.

  It was Louis, sent by John Hay to report that the committee
of Congressmen from the border States was waiting for the
President. Tad took advantage of the interruption to
disappear with the silver dollar. As Louis closed the door,
Lincoln turned to Mary, the laughter in his eyes replaced by
burning sadness.

  "I think they've come to make a final refusal of the offer of
Compensated Abolishment."

  Mary took one of her husband's hands in both of hers.
"Abra'm, I hope they will refuse ill Charles Sumner has really
made an Abolitionist of me."

  "You guess, do you, what I shall do in case they refuse, and
what it will cost?" asked Lincoln.

  That look of second sight which he so held in awe came
into Mary's fine eyes. "I guess and I know. You are
predestined, Abra'm. Do what God tells you."

16Z FOREVER FREE

 He stooped and kissed her on brow and lips. "You have
given me new strength as I knew you would."

 What he said, a few minutes later, to the group in his
office, belongs to the history of the human struggle for
freedom. He stood awkwardly beside the table, his black
clothing rumpled and travel-stained, his eyes older than the
pyramids.

 ". . . If you had voted for the resolution in the gradual
emancipation message of last March, the war would now be
substantially ended. Let the States that are in rebellion see
definitely and certainly that in no event will the States you
represent ever join their proposed confederacy, and they
cannot much longer maintain the control. But you cannot
divest them of the hope to ultimately have you with them so
long as you show a determination to perpetuate the
institution within your own States.... How much better for
you and your people to take the step which at once shortens
the war and secures substantial compensation for that which
is sure to be wholly lost in any other event.... I pray you to
consider this proposition.... As you would perpetuate the
popular government for the best people in the world, I
beseech you that you do in no wise omit this. Our common
country is in great peril, demanding the loftiest views and
boldest action to bring it speedy relief. Once relieved, its
form of government is saved to the world its happy future
assured and rendered inconceivably grand. To you, more
than to any other, the privilege is given to assure that
happiness and swell that grandeur, and to link your own
name therewith forever."

 When he had finished his plea, which he gave with a
wistful passion indicative of the depth both of his hope and
his fear, he stepped into the secretaries' office, to permit the
Congressmen to discuss what he had said. Both Hay and
Nicolay were absent, and Lincoln was grateful for the
moment of solitude. He seated himself on a shabby desk and
fastened his eyes unseeingly on a vase of pink phlox the
room was heavy with their scent, while he concentrated
every faculty of his soul on the one hope, that the men
whispering in his office would see the light.

 Perhaps no one else in the world merely passing the open
door could have roused him from his depths of absorption
but the one who a few moments later did so. It was Miss
Ford. He followed her fine, retreating back with a look of
deliberate speculation. It was quite probable that she had
looked in on the committee of Congressmen; following up
the work already accomplished by Jeff Davis' henchmen" By
sings, she was not to beguile them into stalling him off as
they had done all spring, and as Jinny's tale would indicate
they planned to continue to do all summerl He must have
the answer now, so that before he slept that night, his
decision on McClellan could be made.

He rose and strode into his office.

 Senator Garrett Davis of Kentucky, acting as chairman,
spoke quickly when Lincoln entered and took his place at
the top of the table.

CHILDE ROLAND TO THE DARK TOWER CAME
163

 "Mr. President, we must ask for another month in which to
sound out our colleagues."

 Lincoln thrust both great arms, palms upward, along the
table. For a moment, emotion choked him. His hair lay damp
with sweat on his forehead. His lips quivered. Then he spoke,
his voice at first only a hoarse whisper.

 "I beseech you, make the decision now! You cannot, if you
would, be blind to the signs of the time. I beg of you a calm
and enlarged consideration of them, snging, if it may be, far
above personal and partisan politics."

Davis tossed his head impatiently. "You belittle us, sir."

 The President's voice gathered strength and clarity. "This
proposal makes common cause for a common object, casting
no reproaches upon any. It acts not the Pharisee, the changes
it contemplates would come gently as the dews of
heaven not rending or wrecking anything. Will you not
embrace it? So much good has not been done by one effort
in all past time, as, in the providence of God, it is now your
high privilege to do. May the vast future not have to lament
that you have neglected itl"

 There was a moment of silence. This group of neutrals was
moved by Lincoln's extraordinary eloquence, as were all his
contemporaries, always, but the spell was only ephemeral.

 Davis cleared his throat. "We must ask you to excuse us for
another month, Mr. President."

 Lincoln gave him a clear look. "Senator, you must vote
now." A murmur swept the group. A murmur that was
punctuated by angry ejaculations.

 "You are unwise to try to force the decision, Mr. Lincoln,"
declared Davis. "We are agreed that we can do nothing until
we know more."

 Lincoln looked about the room. Not one of the
twenty-seven men present whom he had not labored with,
individually! It was his will against the cunning of the Ford
and Taylor gang, he told himself. Slowly the muscles on his
long jaw showed themselves in knots. Slowly his lips stiffened
and hardened. Slowly he clutched both great fists and brought
them down on the table. "Take your vote, here and now,
Davisl" he shouted in a voice that could have been heard on
Pennsylvania Avenue.

 A tumult of protest greeted this. Lincoln came to his feet
and stood there, long arms dangling, head drooping, great
eyes burning, first on one man then on another. He felt as
though he were indeed made of rock; that he could outlast
any storm precipitated by any man in the room. And he
proposed to coerce them by his very immobility.

 The storm lasted for perhaps a quarter of an hour. Then
men began to glance askance first at Lincoln, then at one
another. When he perceived this Lincoln spoke quietly to the
Senator from Kentucky.

"I'm waiting for you to take that vote, Davis."

 Suddenly the Senator nodded to George Nicolay, who
immediately passed slips to the committee members. A little
later, Davis gave Lincoln

164 FOREVER FREE

a look, half sneering, half triumphant. The vote stood twenty
against, seven for Compensated Abolishment. In other
words, only an unimportant minority would recommend the
plan to their home States.

 When the Committee had gone, Lincoln walked
deliberately over to his desk on which the lovely light of
summer afterglow was falling and taking up his pen, began
to make notes which he headed,

"What I Know."

 "McClellan organizer but no fighter. Bring him back to
protect Washington. Send rest of Army of Potomac to Pope.

 "Taking of Richmond of prime importance in effect on
minds of both sides.

 "Must move fast or (1) England will intervene, this year,
(a) McClellan will try to make himself dictator. (3)
McClellan as dictator would wreck the Union and save
slavery.

"If I emancipate the slaves I shall save the Union and
probably be shot.

 "If I do not emancipate the slaves, I cannot save the Union
and shall not be shot.

 "If the North does not win this war, democracy will be a
failure upon this earth."

 Having written thus far, he paused, moved nearer to the
window, for the twilight was deepening and with a smile of
whimsical sadness he permitted himself to add one bit of
sentiment:

 'Ho die; to sleep; no more; and by a sleep, to say we end
the heartache, and the thousand natural shocks . . ."

 He broke off abruptly, folded the paper and thrust it into
his pocket. Still keeping his mind strictly to the work at
hand, he pulled a fresh sheet of paper toward him and wrote
at the top, "Emancipation Proclamation," following with
slowly thought-out sentences, set down in his cramped, un-
even hand.

 He had not written a half dozen lines when John Hay
came to the door, and stared at the bent figure silhouetted
against the window. He peered at his watch, hesitated, then
walked firmly across the room. Perhaps nonsense would
rouse the President when a call to supper would surely fail.

 "Mr. Lincoln," he said solemnly, "Richard II is to be played
by Hackett, to-night. Unless you at once, eat, ensark and
bifurcate dischrysalisize, you will miss the second act, let
alone the first."

 Lincoln lifted his head with a jerk. "Say it again, slowly,
Johnl" with solemnity equal to the young man's.

 John repeated the words and with his inimitable laugh, the
President thrust the manuscript into his breast pocket and
fled to his room.

 In an astoundingly short time he and his two young
secretaries were starting for the "heater. As they passed
through the lower hall, a brawny, long-legged soldier, who
had been gaping at the entrance to the East Room came up
to Lincoln, hand extended.

CHILDE ROLAND TO THE DARK TOWER CAME
165

"I'm from Indiany!" he announced.

"So am I," replied Lincoln. "I almost wish I was back there
again."

 "That's just what I was wishin', myself." The big fellow
nodded understandingly. "But instead of that I've got to go
back to camp. Ain't they aworkin' ye pretty hard, Mr.
Lincoln?"

"I reckon they are," answered the President.

 "Well, now, some of us boys was saying so. You'd better
take right smart good keer of yourself. There ain't anybody
else layin' round loose to fit into your boots right now."

 "You give the boys my thanks, sill" Lincoln shook the
Hoosier's big hand heartily and hurried into his carriage
where he chuckled immoderately all the way to the
"heater.

               CHAPTER XXII
               TUE RUNAWAYS

N a burning July afternoon, a day or so later, Secretary
Stanton's baby was buried. Mrs. Lincoln had just left for a
visit to New

 ~ York, but Lincoln attended the funeral, taking with him
in his carriage, Seward, with Seward's son and
daughter-in-law, and the Secretary of the Navy, Gideon
Welles.

 The occasion was, of course, particularly poignant to
Lincoln, but he gave himself no opportunity to indulge in
grief. The Stantons were living for the summer in a house
several miles northwest of Georgetown. The ride to and
from the funeral was long and oppressive. Dust settled
heavily on the occupants of the carriage. Young Mrs.
Seward's little black sunshade turned a rich tan before the
first mile was covered. Welles' white beard took on a
youthful brown. The lovely landscape was visible only
through a hazel fog. The horses panted, while the harness
worked up a muddy lather.

 Of the extraordinary physical discomfort of the ride,
Lincoln was scarcely conscious. All the way out to the
Stantons' he was debating with himself whether or not to
sound out the two secretaries on the subject of
emancipation. On the way back, he suddenly decided to
make the plunge. Welles gave the opening when he said:

 "General McClellan's campaign is singularly depressing in
its effect on the public. Greeley is again talking peace at any
price, I see."

 Lincoln nodded. "I reckon we've about reached the end of
our rope on the plan of operations we've been pursuing.
Things are going from bad to worse. We've played the last
card of the original plan, in the campaign against Richmond.
Now we've got to change tactics or lose the game."

"What do you propose?" asked Welles.

 "I propose," replied the President, looking from Welles to
Seward, "to issue a proclamation emancipating the slaves."

"Good Godl" ejaculated Seward.

"This is a sudden change on your part, Mr. Lincolnl"
exclaimed Welles.

 "I'll make any change necessary to save the Union,"
retorted Lincoln. "This is a military not a political move a
military necessity. What do you think of it, Seward7"

 "It's too momentous a question for me to answer off hand.
You've taken my breath away," replied the Governor.

"And miner" Welles shook his head.

 Lincoln felt almost a shock of surprise. His own
preoccupation with the idea of emancipation had been so
constant and deep that he had not realized how little careful
thought the members of the Cabinet had given

THE RUNAWAYS 167

it. Abolition, outside of the small radical group, was still
looked upon as fantastic, impossible, by the general public, he
knew. But he had thought it was otherwise with his Cabinet.
He began to explain, patiently and clearly, his reasons for the
move.

 Seward, wiping his tired face, constantly, with a large silk
handkerchief, shook his head and murmured ejaculations to
himself, as he listened. Welles chewed at his beard, blinking
like a thoughtful old owl. The two younger Sewards'
excitement and apprehension were apparent in the tensity
with which they sat erect, staring at the President.

 "I see Sumner's hand in thisl" exclaimed Seward, when
Lincoln had finished.

 "Sumner knows nothing about it," declared the President.
"You two are the first I've mentioned it to, and I reckon
you'd better say nothing until I can bring it up at a Cabinet
meeting. What's your idea, Welles7"

 "I had supposed your ideas were identical with the Cabinet,
sir. We've all felt that this was a local domestic subject,
appertaining to the states, respectively, and that they'd never
parted with their authority over it," said the Secretary of the
Navy, with his usual Yankee caution. "But the reverses before
Richmond will change our ideas about many things,
undoubtedly."

 "Something drastic must be done, of course," said Seward.
"I'll have to give my mind to a solution. I'm not at all sure
you've found the right one, Mr. Lincoln."

 "You'd better give it special and deliberate attention,
Governor," Lincoln eyed the Secretary of State with the little
sense of amusement Seward's self-assurance always gave him,
"because I'm going to put the foot down, very shortly. And
while the situation is delicate, the foot is nott" This, with a
quiet smile at young Mrs. Seward on whose silk skirt he had
trod, earlier in the afternoon. He then began to talk of the
hopeful conditions around New Orleans.

 He went out to the Soldiers' Home that night, where Tad
and Miss Ford were to stay during Mary's absence. When his
wife was away the President led a completely erratic
existence, eating, dressing, and sleeping as he pleased. When
he rode his horse slowly up to the steps of the cottage it was
nine o'clock, and he was quite unconscious of the fact that
he'd had no supper. He had come out to see Miss Ford, and
he had thought of nothing for the past two hours but what he
was going to say to her. He had not made up his mind when
he came upon her.

 She was sitting in a rustic chair on the lawn, a dim, white
figure in the starlight. Lincoln crossed the lawn behind her,
and dropped into the chair opposite before she was aware of
his presence.

 She gave a little gasp of surprise, then drawled, easily, "I've
found the one cool spot in a burning world. Actually there is
a touch of breeze, now and again."

Lincoln unbuttoned his white linen coat and tossed his old
hunting

1GS FOREVER FREE

cap to the ground. "I hope Mrs. Lincoln is getting a little
letup from heat," he sighed. "How's Taddie?"

"Very well indeed, and exceedingly active."

 "I don't doubt it," laughed the President. "Anything of a
criminal nature, to-day7"

 "Can't tattle on my pupil, Mr. Presidentl That's my best
hold on him." The Virginian's voice had the tender inflection
that always was apparent when she spoke of Tad.

 Lincoln, as usual, caught the inflection and sighed. If only
she were not so kind to his children! But he must begin
somewhere. Without premeditation, he asked:

"Sister Ford, how'd you like another jobs"

  "I'm perfectly satisfied with this one," she replied,
promptly. "Therel Feel that little breeze on your cheeks
HeavenlyI"

  "It's what you call a regular kind of a job, so I don't
suppose you'd enjoy it like this one. I want you to resign
from Jeff Davis' pay, and work for me."

  A silence broken only by cricket and katydid. Then the
Virginian sat forward in her chair. "What are you talking
about, Mr. Lincoln?"

  The President felt quite calm and clear, now. "I'm talking
about your work. You remember that night Mrs. Fremont
called on me? You gave yourself away then, and I've been
watching you ever since. I had my mind all made up to settle
with you, before my darling Willie left us. Then you were
such an angel to him, that I couldn't."

  "What have I done to merit this?" exclaimed Miss Ford,
leaning forward in her chair so that Lincoln could see the
dark outline of her perfect features.

  "You've helped McClellan make a fool of himself. You're
too close to the fountain-head on both sides of the line,
Sister Ford. Either you must go down to Richmond and stay
there, or you must take a job I can get you in Vice President
Hamlin's family in Portland, Maine. Reckon you'd be far
enough from McClellan then to dull your claws."

  "My dear Mr. Lincoln," with an amused little laugh, "I'm
not dependent on a 'job' es you call it, for my daily bread.
I've been taking the stipend from Mrs. Lincoln because she
wouldn't let me stay, otherwise. And I've wanted to stay to
be near you."

"True enough I'm the fountain-head!" Lincoln's voice was
grim.

  "Nol You shall not misinterpret me on that point,
Abraham Lincolnl" raising one slender hand in dramatic
protest. "My love for you is more real to me than the whole
slavery cause. You shall not belittle or besmirch thatl"

  "You go down and love Jeff Davis the same way you have
loved me," sardonically, "and my speculation is that
Richmond will fall within a month. First time I ever heard
treachery called by that name."

The Virginian sprang to her feet, and the President rose to
his.

"This is beyond endurance!" she protested.

THE RUNAWAYS r69

 "Exactly!" agreed Lincoln. "You're like a fellow I knew on
the Sangamon who "

 "Nor" cried Miss Ford. "Not one of your stories at this
momentl I could not bear itl"

 "I was merely trying to let you down easy, Sister Ford," said
Lincoln, gently. "If you will have it that way, to-morrow you
must start for Richmond."

 "Do you mean to tell me that without Mrs. Lincoln's
knowledge or sanction, or does she know you were about to
do this, and left for this reasons" demanded Miss Ford.

 "She hadn't the least notion of this happening in her
absence," replied Lincoln. "Now, dear Sister Ford, what is the
use of putting on or carrying on about this? You've been
doing what you could for your cause. I've caught you at it."

 "Who has maligned me? That brown cat, Jinny? I'll have
her whipped. I'll take her myself to Fairfax Courthouse and
see it done. The Iying Jezebel never has forgiven me about
Zeb. I'll teach herl"

 Her anger was the more terrible to observe because she did
not raise her voice as she raged. Lincoln allowed her to vent
her spleen on Jinny for some moments, then he put his hand
on her shoulder and said with a patient sort of gentleness:

 "My dear, what's the use? I have my work to do, and I must
safeguard myself until it's done. After that, no matter. You
are a menace to the Union to a degree that perhaps you do
not realize, for I truly believe you wish to save the Union. I
dare no longer permit my liking for you, my gratitude to you,
keep you in my household. To-morrow, you shall start for
Richmond."

"I shall notl" for the first time raising her voice.

 "It shall be done quietly, with one of Baker's men as escort.
I've told Baker nothing so far. How much he learns depends
on the degree of your docility."

 "You hate mel You speak in a voice of hater You touch me
as you would touch an unruly horse. Godl This is my Nemesis
and it's more than I can bear. No country, no cause is worth
ill God, do you hear me?" raising her face hysterically to the
stars. "I repudiate my country and the cause of slavery! I
repudiate Jefferson Davisl I am wholly Abraham Lincoln'sl"
Her voice rose to a scream. "God, do you hear me? Give me
a sigul Give me a signl"

 "Hushl Don't tempt HimI" Lincoln shook her gently. "Go in
the house, and have Jinny pack you up, for you must return
to the White House, tonight, with me."

He could feel her tall body shaking as with a chill.

"I shall not gol" she screamed.

"Comer Lean on my arml" commanded the President.

 Suddenly, she broke down. Weeping heavily, she put her
head against his shoulder. "Don't send me awayl Don't send
me awayl Lock me in a

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room in the White House. Only let me be under the same roof
with you." "Hushl Every window up at the cottage has a
listener. Come, let's go find Jinny."

 She drew a shuddering breath, then slowly moved away
from him. "I will find her without your help," she said,
brokenly.

 The President stood without moving a muscle until she
entered the lighted hallway. Then, with a great sigh, he
dropped into his chair.

 An hour later, the carriage and his saddle horse, at the
President's order, appeared at the door. Lincoln crossed the
lawn and sent a servant for Miss Ford. After a considerable
delay, the servant returned with the information that neither
Miss Ford nor Jinny could be found.

 "Go and make a real hunt, of every building," ordered
Lincoln. "One of you get ready to ride my horse back to
town with a note to Colonel Baker."

 He was perfectly sure that the Virginian was not to be
found at the Soldiers' Home. He felt decidedly sheepish as
he wrote a note to Chief Baker of the Secret Service;
sheepish, a little relieved, and somewhat troubled. He had
wanted to remove Miss Ford, and to be very sure of her
whereabouts before he took further steps in emancipation.
He had done only half his job. He remained at the cottage
until Baker arrived, then he drove back to Washington.

 It was not until morning when he woke with a dizzy
headache that he remembered that he'd had no supperl

 He sent for Charles Sumner immediately after breakfast.
The Senator, immaculate in a cream linen suit, a rose in his
buttonhole, appeared while Lincoln was listening to a violent
debate between Welles and Stanton. The President lounged
in a favorite attitude, deep in a chair, his feet on the mantel.
Stanton walked the floor, Welles sat erect and
uncompromising at the Cabinet table.

"I hope I don't intrude, sirl" Sumner paused beside Lincoln.

 "Not at all, Charlesl Welles and Stanton are having a
debate on the matter of a bill. You remember last spring
when the Merrimac sunk the Cumberland, and the Congress
and we all were scared to death for fear she'd steam up the
Potomac to Washington7"

 Sumner nodded solemnly, but Lincoln laughed. "Stanton
had the shakes a little mite worse than the rest of us. At
least he made more noise and confusion. You did, Stantonl
Don't glare at me or you'll give me the shakes nowl"

"Your levity is ill-timed, sir," said Stanton, savagely.

 "Perhaps sol Perhaps sol But I haven't forgotten that you
sneered at Welles when he said that the Monitor would lick
the Merrimac. Welles is getting to be a good deal of a navy
man. He didn't know the rear from the front of a boat when
he began, but he does now."

 "Father" Welles smiled dryly. Stanton pulled his beard and
waited impatiently for the Chief Executive to give him the
floor. But Lincoln was

THE RUNAWAYS 171

hoping that a little delay would cool Stanton down and he
had no objection to trying to puncture some of the Secretary
of War's egotism.

  "Stanton," he went on, "got me so scared that I consented
to his having sixty canal boats loaded with stone ready to sink
across the channel at Kettle Bottom Shoals. He went over
Welles' head and ordered the navy yard to prepare the boats.
Welles was peevish about this, and Stanton, to soothe him,
agreed that the War Department should bear the expense. Of
course, they were never needed, and are moored by the river
bank, now." With a quiet chuckle, "And now Stanton wants
Welles to pay for the fleet. Stanton's navyl It's as useless as
the pap of a man to a sucking child. There may be some show
to amuse the child but they are good for nothing for service."

  "My God, but you're disgusting, Lincolnl" shouted Stanton,
and he flung himself toward the door. "I'll pay for the boats
rather than risk another interview like this."

  "Father" Welles suddenly burst into a cackling laugh,
gathered up his papers and departed.

  Sumner, who had winced at Lincoln's simile, stood eyeing
him speculatively. Lincoln smiled serenely.

"Charles, Sister Ford ran away, last night."

"Whatl" gasped the Senator. "With whom7"

  "With Jinny," dryly from Lincoln. "I've been meaning for
some time to tell you of what I suspected the lady." He gave
the story in detail, adding, "I told her she could have her
choice between going to Richmond or to Hamlin's family up
in Maine. I implicated no one. Told her she gave herself away
during that interview of Mrs. Fremont's."

  Sumner groaned. "I've long been uneasy about her. Too
bad! Too badl Did she confess?"

  "Not precisely. She did considerable sputtering, but finally
seemed to agree that she'd pack and come back to
Washington with me, on her way to Richmond. She went into
the cottage out at the Soldiers' Home and she and Jinny
disappeared while I was waiting. I put Colonel Baker on the
case."

Sumner groaned, then said, "You did quite right."

  "You feel as I do, Charles-a cross between virtue and
remorse. You see, I wanted to make an important move and
it seemed best to have her out of the house. Reckon I
fumbled badly. Don't know where she'll break out, now."

  "Oh, she and all her kind can't stop Destiny's marchl"
exclaimed Sumner. "What move have you planned, Mr.
Lincoln7"

  "The inevitable one, I hope, Senator. The present Congress
has done almost all it can, unless you have something up your
sleeve that I don't know about. Let's see. It's prohibited all
persons in the army and navy from hunting or returning
fugitive slaves. It has restored the Missouri Compromise. It
has abolished slavery in the District of Columbia, and
provided for the education of colored children here. It has
recognized the

17Z FOREVER FREE

independence of Hayti and Liberia. It has passed the
Confiscation Act, destroying title in slave property as a
punishment for treason or rebellion. It's given me power to
use contrabands as soldiers. It seems to me that, if my
Cabinet recapitulates the work of the Congress, it can't fail
to see that mine is the next step emancipation."

 Sumner had been leaning against the mantel, listening
attentively to Lincoln. As the President uttered the last
word, the Senator started as if he had been struck. He
stared at Lincoln as though he could not believe his ears.

 "Whatl" he said. "Emancipation! At lastl Lincolnl Do you
truly mean its" He seized the President's hands. "You will
issue a proclamation?  Truly 'mine eyes have seen the
glory of the coming of the Lord."'

 His face worked. He dropped Lincoln's hands, turned to
rest his head on his arm along the mantel and wept.

 The President felt his own eyes sting. He took a turn up
and down the room. Then he cleared his throat and said:

 "The North is not really ready for it. I'll meet much
opposition. It will damn my political future I'm inclined to
be grateful for that. But it's the next military step in the
saving of the Union. With their slaves at home to free the
men for service, the Rebels have too great an advantage
over us. Whether or not the North has suffered enough to
swallow it, I don't pretend to know. When I'll issue it, I
don't know. Charles, I want you to go up to Massachusetts
and make a close canvass of the situation up there, both
military and political, with relation to such a move."

 Sumner had fully recovered himself. He smoothed his hair
and necktie. "Quite right, sir, and wise, as usual. I'll be going
home to-night."

 He had reached the hall when the President, recalling
certain information, hurried after him and buttonholed him
near the stairhead, where the passing visitors stared
curiously at the two enormous figures.

 "Charles," whispered Lincoln, "it's highly probable that
you'll be subject to murderous attack, after this thing is out.
Guard yourself all you can."

 "How can one guard against a villain?" asked Sumner in a
wondering whisper. "Don't be anxious, sir. The Almighty is
directing this matter." He squeezed the President's hand and
was gone.

CHAPTER XXIII

        Tree SOLDIERS Rome CEMETERY

   EPEATED thunderstorms toward the last week of July
made WashK ington slightly more endurable. Mrs. Lincoln
returned from her ~ ~ visit to the North with wonderful
new material for dresses, and established Lizzie Keckley in
her bedroom for an orgy of sewing. The trip had done her
good. Her nerves were steady. A little of her lovely color
showed again in her cheeks. But she looked her husband
over with considerable dissatisfaction. He had lost weight,
and she saw new lines around his mouth and eyes.

  "You look," she said, with a sad little grimace, "as if you've
been living on what you picked out of the mousetrap! I
thought of you every time I put a taste of food to my lips.
You sit down in that chair and I'll send for a glass of milk
this minute."

  She had been in the house for several hours, but the
President had been locked in Stanton's office with General
Halleck who had come to take over the
General-in-Chiefship. He had hurried to the sitting room the
moment he had been released. He held Mary tightly while
she chided him, a complacent smile on his lips.

  "Jingsl It's good to have you spank me again Don't go
away again this summer, wifel Wait till things are more
cheerful with the country."

  "The war looks bad East and West, doesn't itl" agreed
Mary. "I suppose the raising of 3oo,ooo more men has taken
what little appetite from you my absence didn't. Do sit down,
my dear, and rest, just for a moment, and I'll ring the bell
for the milk."

  But he would not release her. He clung to her as
something warm and intensely human that anchored him
once more to the sweet and simple and homely things that
were his birthright. He seated himself, holding her on his
knees as he did Tad, and looking down into her face with
something of the feeling, he was sure, that Taddie
experienced when he felt for his mother's hand in the dark.

  "Nowl Go on and scold me some more, darling Mary," he
begged, "while I purr like an old Tom call"

  She smoothed his hair back from his forehead. He closed
his eyes with a sigh. "What shall I scold about, firsts" she
asked tenderly. "Shall I scold you because I see you are
carrying every dead soldier on every battlefield as a notch on
your living hearts Shall I scold because you make no reply to
the dreadful things the newspapers are saying about your
neglect of McClelland"

Lincoln opened his eyes. "I've asked Dahlgren to make me
an inven

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tion.Something to use the gas escaping from newspaper
offices for war purposes."

 Mary laughed, then went on with her inventory. "Or shall
I scold you for wearing this heavy coat when your closet is
full of linen suits?"

 "Whatever interests you most, wife. Only keep onl Might
say a few words about my sending Sister Ford off, as I wrote
you."

 "I think you did exactly right. I'm sorry for poor Jinny,
though," declared Mary.

 "Jinny can take care of herself and Sister Ford too,"
relaxing, with a sigh of relief, against the back of the arm
chair. "You've seen Taddie, of course."

 "Yes, he's been with me all the afternoon. What sort of a
boy has he been7" asked Mary, remaking the President's tie.

 "He's been the one bright spot in a fog of trouble," replied
Lincoln, beginning to chuckle. "Stanton seems to be very
fond of him, and he fixed him up a Lieutenant's commission
and gave him twenty-five old useless guns. Tad built an
arsenal in the basement and drafted every servant and
employee on the place for his Company. John Hay and
George Nicolay were the only ones who escaped. The first
day all went well, but that night your gardener, Halliday,
started to go down town. Tad saw him heading for the street
and he went out and arrested him as a deserter. He was very
earnest about it, and furious that Halliday wouldn't take him
seriously. He dragged the fellow up to my office and
appealed to me as Commanderin-Chief to force Halliday to
submit to arrest."

"What did you dol" exclaimed Mary.

  "I stopped Cabinet proceedings while I pardoned Halliday;
then I persuaded Tad that he would be doing a real service
if he formed a little company of poor boys who couldn't get
drill, otherwise. He finally agreed that if I'd let him feed the
boys, once a day, he'd disband his present company."

  "Good gsciousl Is he feeding twenty-five boys here, every
day?" cried Mary.

  "No, only ten," replied the President soothingly. Then he
added, "I knew I'd dig up something you could really scold
me about, if I tried long enough."

  Mary suddenly kissed him and jumped to her feet.
"Speaking of food, shall I send for that milk, or will you
promise to come to supper, the moment the bell rings?"

  "I promise. Do I have to change my clothes?" looking at
her without much hope.

  For reply, Mary rang the bell and when James appeared,
she said, "James, will you help the President get into a white
linen suit? He is very tired, James. Give him an alcohol
rubdown, do."

  "Yes, Madam. He sure is very tired. I'm glad you're back,
Madam, for he sure ain't himself with you away." The
colored man offered his hand to Lincoln to pull him to his
feet.

THE SOLDIERS' HOME CEMETERY 175

 The President took the kind brown fingers and said, with a
contented sigh, "A good going over by his mother with a fine
tooth comb is what every boy needs, at least once a month,
Jamesl"

"Yes, sir, Massa Lincum," grinned James.

 "I don't like your implications, Abratml"Mary's eyes
twinkled, but she watched the two depart with an anxious
shake of the head. She never had seen her husband look as
weary as he did now.

 Carl Schurz came in to supper with John Hay. Lincoln was
delighted to see him. The young officer always struck fire
from the President's brain. But Mary, with John Hay's tactful
help, steered the talk away from politics, and kept it on
music, about which Schurz could talk so fascinatingly.

 "Mr. Lincoln must rest," she whispered in an aside to
Schurz as they all mounted the stairs after supper. "He's
mulling over some heavy problem emancipation, I
think and they tell me he's not been to bed for two nights.
Will you play for him, General7"

 "Ah, poor fellow, yesl" replied Schurz and on reaching the
sitting room, he went straight to the piano.

 "I'II just stretch out here on the sofa and rest my brittle old
bones for a half hour," said Lincoln, sinking among the
cushions as he spoke.

 Mary and John Hay moved chairs close to him as if to
hedge him from intruders.

"What are you going to play, General7" asked Lincoln.

  "A little of Beethoven," answered the officer, "a few yolk
Lieder, if you will."

  "I willl" sighed the President, closing his eyes, and
determined to rest his brain during the half hour by not
permitting his thoughts to wander from the lovely pattern of
sounds Schurz began to weave. For a few moments the
desultory conversation between Mary and John impinged on
his concentration:

  John: - "Dear Mrs. Lincoln, don't urge me to ask favors of
Secretary Stanton. I'd rather make the rounds of a smallpox
hospital."

  Mary, after a silence: - "I had two nights at Long Branch.
Heavenly, except for mosquitoes, human and otherwise!"

  John: "Washington is a desert. Not a human being here, as
far as social intercourse goes. I miss the ladies, I assure you."

  Mary: "When do you find time to miss them? You work
twenty-six out of the twenty-four, nowl"

  John: "You're confusing me with the Tycoon, Mrs. Lincoln.
I refuse to work more than twenty hours a day. The
remaining four hours I devote to regretting lovely women."

Schurz drifted into a lullaby

  When Lincoln opened his eyes, after a long blank period,
he was astounded to see that dawn was shining in at the
window, through which floated the song of a redbird in the
garden. He still was Iying on the couch, with Mary's red shawl
over his feet. Some one had removed his shoes.

6 FOREVER FREE

  "God bless herl" he thought. "I've had a real sleep and my
brain is clear. I can broach emancipation to the Cabinet,
to-day. Yesterday, I was too overwrought."

  It was the regular Cabinet meeting morning, with steady
rain and so of endurable temperature. The members
discussed the feasibility of raising negro regiments, for some
time, until Lincoln quietly vetoed the immediate carrying out
of the idea, and took from his pocket a rather worn sheet of
paper.

  "I want to read you a memorandum I've been working on
relative to the subject of emancipation. I do not ask your
advice, but suggestions as to the handling of the subject will
be in order after I have finished."

  A stunned silence greeted the reading of the document.
Chase was the first to speak.

  "That's a measure of great danger, Mr. Lincoln, and goes
beyond anything I have recommended."

  "What have you recommended, Chase7" asked the
President, pushing his chair back from the table that he
might cross his knees.

  The Secretary of the Treasury replied with the rasping
note of hostility in his voice that he could not subdue when
he spoke to Lincoln. "I should prefer that no new expression
on the subject of compensation be made. The measure of
emancipation can be much better and more quietly ac-
complished by allowing generals to organize and arm the
slaves."

  "Good God, Chasel" cried Seward. "Are you planning to
start a servile war?"

  "There's no necessity for profanity, Mr. Secretary,"
retorted Chase, his handsome face pale with emotion.
"Arming the slaves would prevent their massacre by the
Rebels in case of emancipation."

  "You're insane!" roared Stanton. "I'm for the immediate
issuing of that proclamation!"

  "So am Il" said Attomey General Bates. "And I'm a
conservative, from a slave-holding State, too. What about
you and your Abolitionist friends, Chase?"

Lincoln smiled at Bates, gratefully.

  "Oh, I consider this action better than nothing," hastily
declared Chase, "and so shall support it."

  "Wait a moment, do, my friends," exclaimed Seward.
"Listen to some facts from my department. Foreign nations,
on hearing that proclamation, will intervene, immediately, to
prevent freeing the labor that they believe produces cotton
only so long as the negroes here are in bondage. And they
are right. Issue that proclamation, and we break up our
relations with foreign nations and the production of cotton
for sixty years."

  "And you are the man," said Secretary Welles, dryly, "who
after your 'irrepressible conflict' speech in 1858, the New
York Herald called a more dangerous Abolitionist than
Beecher, Garrison, or Parkerl"

  "I wasn't Secretary of State to a nation in the throes of
civil war when I made that speech," retorted Seward.

THE SOLDIERS' HOME CEMETERY r 77

 "I'd like to hear your reasons for issuing the proclamation,
Mr. President," said Smith, the Secretary of the Interior.

 "So would I," echoed Postmaster General Blair. "I only wish
to say that if you issue it, it will cost us the fall elections."

 Lincoln nodded. "The collapse of McClellan's Richmond
campaign may be said to be the immediate reason. The
decisive element in the test of military strength between the
Union and the Secessionists lies in the slaves. In order to
take advantage of that element, we must remove two things:
prejudice on the part of the Northern whites; lack of motive
on the part of the blacks. The check and embarrassment, at
this moment, of all the Union armies are putting our people,
even the conservatives, in the frame of mind for reprisals on
the Rebels. Here is our reprisal," tapping the document
against his knee. "Here, also, is the motive which will inspire
the slaves to fight."

 "You are mistaken at one point, sirl" exclaimed Seward.
"You issue this now, following upon the greatest disasters of
the war, and people will misunderstand They will view it as
the last measure of an exhausted government, a cry for help;
the government stretching her hands to Ethiopia, instead of
Ethiopia stretching forth her hands to the government; the
last shriek on our retreat."

 This was characteristic reasoning on the part of Seward,
thought Lincoln, the ounce of common sense in the pound of
sophistry.

 "There is rising a sure demand that this war and slavery
cease together," said Welles, impatiently.

 "I have no patience at all," retorted Seward, "with the
irrational clamor for making emancipation, instead of
national integrity, the object of the war. I have less patience
with paper declarations without the support of armies. It is
mournful to see a great nation shrink from a war it has ac-
cepted, and adopt proclamations where it has been asked for
force."

 "Don't purposely and cynically misunderstand me on this,
Seward," exclaimed the President. "As I have told you before,
I expect to maintain the contest until successful, or till I die,
or am conquered, or my term expires, or Congress or the
country forsake me. I have felt that only the most horrible
suffering could induce this country to include the freeing of
the slave in the cases bell). I had hoped it now had suffered
enough."

 Seward leaned forward on the table. "Mr. President, you
are, I know, determined to issue the proclamation. You do
not desire our advice. Yet I venture to beg this of you. Issue
the mandate when you can give it to the country supported by
military success, or the whole world will laugh at you."

 "Derision cannot seriously affect me." Lincoln smiled a little
sadly. "But you have given me a new angle. Perhaps the long
suffering had best be capped by hope before we offer this to
the people. We'll wait for a victory. In the meantime, I ask
you all to preserve the utmost secrecy with regard to this.
And pray for a victorious McClellan."

8 FOREVER FREE

 A mirthless laugh from Stanton greeted this, and the
meeting broke up. Lincoln followed Stanton to the War
Office.

 Sumner made only a flying visit to his constituents in
Massachusetts. It seemed as if anxiety for the success of the
President's "move" made it impossible for him to keep away
from Washington. He appeared at the Soldiers' Home, late
one sultry Sunday afternoon, to find the President and his
wife, with Secretary and Mrs. Welles, drinking lemonade on
the lawn, while Tad drove his goat wagon up and down the
gravel paths. Lincoln was giving a discourse on trees, taking
great delight in tripping Welles as to name and habitat. He
greeted Sumner affectionately, and included him in the
catechism.

 "Come over here by the cemetery," he said, "where the
evergreens abound, and I'll show you the difference between
spruce, pine, and cedar and a kind of illegitimate cypress
I've noticed growing hereabouts. Trees are as interesting to
study as men. Each has its own physiognomy."

 He rose and strode toward the cemetery, followed
unenthusiastically by the company. He looked taller than
ever in his white linen suit. The late sun flickering through
the trees brought out copper tints in his black hair. Charles
Sumner and Mary brought up the rear.

 "The President is popularly supposed to have no interest
in nature, or particular love for her," said the Senator.

 "That's about on par with the usual misconception
regarding my blessed husband!" exclaimed Mary. "How could
a temperament as intensely poetic as his not love beauty in
nature as everywhere! Also, how can one with his awful
preoccupations take time to enjoy that beauty? I sometimes
think that even his religion is only a manifestation of the
poet in him."

 "That's interesting," mused Sumner. "Ah, he isn't going to
let us off reciting! They're waiting by the edge of the
clearing."

 But, when they reached the President, he had forgotten
the recitation. He was standing with the various twigs of
evergreen in his hand, gazing at row on row of new-made
graves.

 "I didn't know they'd opened this to volunteers," he said.
"Lookl Hundreds of them with not even a name or a
number!"

 His face worked. Deep within him he felt stirring the
mood of despair, which he had been fighting ever since
McClellan had begun the retreat from Richmond. Welles
looked up at him pityingly. Sumner pressed forward and put
his hand on Lincoln's shoulder.

"My dear Mr. Lincoln " he began, but did not continue.

 A shot rang from behind an ancient monument. It grazed
the President's forehead, took off a lock of Sumner's hair
and severed a branch of the "illegitimate" cypress. Almost at
the same moment a colored woman dashed out from the
trees to the left and flung herself, screaming, before Lincoln.
It was Jinny.

"They shan't git you, Massa Lincuml They'll git me firstl"

As she shrieked these words another shot rang out. Jinny
whirled and

THE SOLDIERS' HOME CEMETERY 179

fell. A man, stooping, ran from behind the ancient monument into the grove.

 The episode had passed with such lightning rapidity that it was over while one could count
thirty. Lincoln stooped to pick up Jinny. Sumner started to run after the assassin, but was
stopped by Welles, who pointed to James, who, in his white serving coat, a gun in his hand, was
galloping across the cemetery, followed by Tom, the coachman, in a bright pink shirt. Mary
clasped Lincoln's arm. She was deathly white, but perfectly calm.

 "Come back to the house, quickly, Abra'm, before they shoot againt" she begged.

 Welles, supporting his wife, who was half fainting, said quietly, "Sumner, if you are not
injured, help me with Mrs. Welles."

 Lincoln did not speak. He stood with the mulatto woman in his arms, the blood from her
breast running over his coat sleeve. She was staring up into his face, trying to tell him
something, and he was listening, moving his lips in sympathy with hers. After a moment of
agonizing endeavor, she managed to articulate a name:

 "Gordon! Gordonl"                                            :

Then she died.

"Put her down, Abra'm. We'll send some one to her," urged Mary.

 "She saved my lifer" said Lincoln, wonderingly, and making no attempt to set his burden
down. "She took my bullet. Poor Jinnyl Dear, devoted Jinnyl"

 The tears ran down his cheeks, and thus he bore the slave back through the woods to the
cottage, and laid her down on the parlor sofa.

 Things moved swiftly, after that. The frightened servants took charge of Jinny's body. Colonel
Baker was sent for. Taddie drove his goat into the house, and stabled him in the dining room,
which latter fact was not noted for hours. James and Tom returned very shortly. Their man had

 jumped on a horse, tied a short way into the woods, and had hopelessly;

out-distanced them, of course, at once. When the two had finished their
breathless report to the group assembled in the parlor, the President said
to James:

"Boy, how did you happen to be on the jobs"

 The colored man swallowed a sob. "About ten minutes before that first shot, Massa Lincum,
Jinny, she bust into the kitchen, all dust and excitement. We all ain't seen her since Miss Fo'd
took her all away. Jinny, she say to me, I'm alone in the kitchen, 'Where's Massa Lincum? Dat
man Gordon, he "wine shoot Massa LincumI'

"'They jes' went into the woods toward the cemetery,' said I.

"'You grab a gun and comer' says Jinny.

 "She ran out. I took five minutes to load one of Massa Taddie's old guns, and I holler at Tom
and run for it after Jinny. We reached the cemetery jes' as that first shot came.... Poor Jinnyl"
His dark face quivered.

180 FOREVER FREE

 "Happy Jinnyl" exclaimed Mary, with sudden passion,
"whose death saved Mr. Lincoln."

 "Don't," protested Lincoln, huskily. "James, is there any
chance that the help in the house could be persuaded not to
tell this for a while? Supposing you tell them that if this
thing is gossiped about it will set me back in my efforts to
help the slaves."

 "If you call them in here, Massa Lincum," said James,
earnestly, "and tell 'em what you want, all the whipping
posts in Virginny couldn't drag nothing out of them."

 "Call them in, James," said the President. When the man
had gone, followed by Tom, Lincoln turned to Sumner:

 "Charles, I reckon you'd better go over to the other house
and see that the mouths are shut there. As no one has
appeared, I suspect the old fellows have observed nothing."

 Sumner left immediately and his exit was followed by the
entrance of two maids, with James and Tom. The President
made his request, and was convinced, as James had been,
that these dark lips would be sealed as long as he desired it.
He was much moved by the fanatical passion with which
they declared their loyalty to him, their faith in him.

 When they were gone, he turned to Secretary and Mrs.
Welles and Mary. "Somehow I can't seem to stand up under
their gratitude. I'm not worth it. Ah, my darling
Taddie" the boy was established on the arm of his mother's
chair, - "I should say, Lieutenant Lincoln, you will guard this
as a military secret of the Commander-in-Chief, eh7"

 "Yes, sa'l" Taddie jumped to his feet and saluted smartly.
"And hea' is the a'nica fo' the bump on you' fo'head, Papa
day. I was waiting fo' yo' to calm down to give it to yo'l"

 Every one smiled and the tension relaxed as the little boy,
using his mother's handkerchief, proceeded to sponge the
welt that had risen on his father's brow. Lincoln sighed with
pleasure under the touch of his small fingers.

 "I'm enjoining this secrecy because I want Baker to get
this man," he said, as he leaned back with closed eyes, "and
because," opening his eyes to look at Welles, "I don't want
a lot of reporters ferreting out the relation this may have to
the purpose I divulged in the Cabinet meeting. The public
must not know that purpose until I am sure they are ready
for it."

 "Quite right, as usual," agreed "Father" Welles, sitting bolt
upright on the long ottoman, and tenderly supporting Mrs.
Welles, who leaned against him.

CHAPTER XXIV

              CEDAR MOUNTAIN

   ARY could not endure the thought of remaining
overnight in the V vicinity of the tragedy, so, late that
evening, when Colonel Baker

 ~ ~ - had finished his long conference with them, the
party resumed t o thcity.

 Lincoln had lived so close to the thought of assassination,
that the fact that it actually had been attempted did not
greatly shock him. But he was deeply perturbed at the
thought of Jinny's sacrifice. As had Zeb's, her face came
frequently between himself and his work on Monday
moming, when he settled at his desk.

 Taddie and the two dogs were playing "Prisoners" under
the Cabinet table when Lincoln came in, and he was glad of
the child's society.

 In his mail that morning was his first letter from William
Russell, and Lincoln read it, eagerly. After a few paragraphs
telling of his return to London and of a recurrence of
malarial fever, which had laid him low for two months, he
said:

 "I have only just brought about the interview which I
promised to undertake for you. I cannot say whether or not
my statements did, or will, have an ameliorating effect on
the frame of mind of the person in question. She
undoubtedly shares the general English feeling, which is
overwhelmingly for the Confederacy and is violently
prejudiced against your Administration. The effective
blockade of Southem ports by the Federal navy is looked on
with great bitterness. You must try to realize how the awful
suffering of the cotton operatives in English factory towns
has touched her heart. If British recognition of the
Confederacy would open her cotton ports, I assure you that
recognition would come at once. She believes that freedom
for the slaves would starve Europe for cotton for at least a
generation. I am, I hope, to have a longer visit at Windsor,
this summer, of which I shall write you later.

 "The Duke of Argyle and John Bright are the only
statesmen for the North. Mr. Gladstone favors the South. Of
the London papers only the Spectator is for you."

 The President finished his letter with a sense of
disappointment. He had thought of Her Majesty, Queen
Victoria, as a woman of Mary's type, quick to resent, but
also quick to understand. However, perhaps the second
interview would bear fruit, or at least, show that the first one
was not in vain.

 Seward entering, at this point in his reverie, Lincoln asked
him abruptly:

18Z FOREVER FREE

 "Governor, what news from Charles Francis Adams on
shipbuilding in England7"

 Seward gave an irritated glance in the direction of
Pensacola, who did not enjoy the role of prisoner, and was
voicing his objection. "I've got children, Lincoln," he said,
"and I love them, but "

 The President, who, outside the comfortable sense of
companionship, had not been conscious of any of the sounds
from the prison, now looked over his spectacles at Tad, who
peered from under the table with a belligerent expression
for the benefit of the Secretary of State.

"I'm not going out, Papa day. I'm in to' life. I shot my
supee-o' oflfica."

  "Not your Commander-in-Chief, I hope, Lieutenant?"
asked his father anxiously.

  "No, se'. Only a maja'-gene'al," with a quick look of relief
on finding that his father was playing his game.

  Lincoln wrote a rapid order on a slip of paper. "Transfer
this prisoner to the north portico. Force him to do sentry
duty, with cake rations, for two hours." Then he rang the
bell for Louis. He read the order aloud when the messenger
appeared, adding, "Lieutenant Lincoln admits to shooting a
major-general. In some aspects his crime is a public benefit,
therefore we exercise leniency. Take him and his two
accomplices."

  Louis solemnly saluted, took the slip of paper and turned
toward the table.

  "I'd never move such dangerous persons without shackles,"
exclaimed Seward. "Here, I'll helpl Give us a hand, Mr.
Lincoln," and the next five minutes, to Taddie's breathless
delight, were spent by the messenger, the Secretary of State
and the President in trussing up the prisoners with curtain
cords and setting them out in the hall.

  Lincoln returned to his desk, wiping his hot face. "Now, as
to the building of rebel ships of war in Liverpool, Governor.
What's Charles Francis' latest7"

  "Mr. Adams is much concerned over a ship, almost
completed, known as zoo, which certainly is destined for
Confederate use," replied Seward. "He can get nothing from
Lord Russell, whose complacency is astounding."

  "I'd like to see the correspondence in the matter, Seward,"
said the President, and turned to other business.

  Late that afternoon, having read the letters from Adams,
Lincoln put on his hat and started out to find Lord Lyons.
As he strode rapidly down the north driveway, however, he
met the British minister taking the air in his irreproachable
landaulet. The President flung up his arm, and the landaulet
stopped. The Minister, in spotless black broadcloth, stepped
from the carriage.

  "I was just going to call on you, my lord," exclaimed
Lincoln. "Come over here under the trees a minute, while I
tell you what's on my mind."

  He led the imperturbable Lyons over to a marble settee,
beneath a magnolia.

CEDAR MOUNTAIN 183

 "Lyons, why don't the English people understand the great
principles that underlie this wart" he began abruptly. "Is the
fault yours?"

 The Englishman gave him a quick look. "No, Your
Excellency, the fault lies in the principles, themselves, which
any European finds alien to his comprehension."

 "Do you?" asked Lincoln, wondering if it were possible to
get beneath this gentleman's polished surface.

 "I've not looked upon myself as an alien, Mr. President. My
sympathies have been quickened for both sides. It is painful
to observe cousins in a blood feud. I shall be thankful when
peace comes."

 "Whichever way it comes7" Lincoln arched his brows. "Are
you a perfect neutral?"

 "Whichever way it comes," insisted Lord Lyons, fanning
himself gently with his tall hat.

 "So long as the blockade is broken and cotton starts for
Englandl" exclaimed Lincoln.

 For the hrst time, the Englishman showed fire. "The
blockade is a cruel weapon, unwisely used as far as its effect
on Europe is concerned."

 "If you were in my place," asked Lincoln, "would you fight
the war gently? Would you prosecute it, in future, with alder
stalk squirts, charged with rose water? Is that the British
method of warfare?"

 Lord Lyons suddenly laughed. "You have me there, Your
Excellencyl But truly, sir, I have made no effort to form
British opinion. I have tried to meet each emergency as it
arrives. Nothing morel Indeed, nothing morel" with a tired
sigh.

 "I know," nodded Lincoln. "It's tough going Lyons, as soon
as there is a half victory, here in the East, I'm going to issue
a proclamation freeing the slaves. I don't want it known in
this country, but I want you to prepare the folks in high
places in England for it."

 The Englishman's ruddy face burned a deeper shade. He
stared through the trees at the grey walls of the War and
Navy Building, then turned his keen eyes on Lincoln.

"Such an act will have far-reaching results in Europe, sir."

"You mean England and France will be pacified?"

"I hope they will be," very earnestly.

 "Well, I've about given up any idea of pacifying 'em, to tell
the truth, but," with a whimsical lift to his lips, "I'll leave 'em
not a leg to stand on if they wish to intervene. Get my idea,
Lyons?"

 "I get it, Your Excellencyl" The Minister drummed on the
curved top of his walking stick in a troubled way.

 Lincoln eyed the Englishman. He felt baffled, and told
himself that Russell had been wrong in his calculations.

"Too bad I don't speak French," he said grimly.

Lord Lyons looked at him Inquiringly.

"They say it's the language of diplomacy. Certainly my kind
of English

184 FOREVER FREE

isn't." Lincoln rose as he spoke. "And as for yours ~ You
might as well be talking Greek to mel"

  The Englishman's eyes were puzzled, honestly so, Lincoln
thought. The President rubbed his black hair, reflectively,
then put out his hand.

  "Lyons," he looked down very earnestly, "don't scorn this
war as something worthy of contempt, merely because
England has never fought a war for such a cause. Believe me
when I say that the basic principles over which we are
struggling are greater than any for which your country ever
has struggled."

  The Englishman bowed, and Lincoln, with a sigh, turned
back toward his office.

  Colonel Baker, a powerfully built man, with a heavy brown
beard and a keen grey eye was waiting for the President.
Lincoln waved him to a seat, perched himself on the edge of
his desk and waited.

  "You told me to report all real clews to you, sir. We
haven't got on Gordon's trail since leaving the Soldiers'
Home, but we've tracked him for the week preceding that
time, and, incidentally, that put us in touch with Miss Ford
for a moment He undertook, for McClellan, to get some in-
formation about the Rebel forces in Richmond. He was at
Harrison's Landing, and claimed that he had means that
would take him into Richmond. One of my men had got into
Richmond several days before, and he says that, on the night
he left that place, he saw Miss Ford, Captain Taylor, and
Gordon talking with Jefferson Davis. I might add that my
man was perched in a tree, with a good view of Davis' sitting
room."

  "Do you imply that Jeff Davis is mixed up with any
assassination schemes7" exclaimed the President. "Because,
I tell you right now, I don't believe it."

  "Neither do I," replied Baker. "If Gordon fired that shot,
it was a matter of private vengeance on you. But, having
fired it, the most sensible thing was to seek safety with
Rebels who knew him. I don't doubt Davis will make him
useful."

  "Well, I hope the three of 'em will stay in Richmond and
stop pestering me," declared Lincoln. "That's all I ask of
'em."

  "It's not all I ask, by a jugful," grimly, from Baker. "I'm
going down to Richmond, myself."

  And before the President could finish his protest, the
detective had bowed himself out.

  It was not the President who suffered from the effects of
the attempt upon his life. It was Mary. She endured agonies
now, whenever her husband went out of the White House.
She was very much alone, during these long summer days. It
was extraordinary how much she missed Miss Ford, she told
John Hay. If the extremely popular John Hay found Wash-
ington hopelessly unsocial that summer, how much more so
did Mary Lincoln, all of whose social efforts and successes
turned to ashes with the departure of the Virginianl She
made no complaints to Lincoln, however, and, absorbed as
he was in his work, the President would not have dis

CEDAR MOUNTAIN 185

covered her pitiable state of mind, but for an episode
connected with the new campaign in Virginia.

 The campaign was forming under Lincoln's urgent touch all
the while he was giving earnest thought to the emancipation
proclamation.

 After reaching the determination to withdraw McClellan
from the Army of the Potomac, he did not give a peremptory
order to that effect. Instead he told McClellan to bring his
forces up to Acquia Creek, a little tributary of the Potomac,
about thirty miles south of Washington, and from this spot to
send his men to Pope, as Pope might need them. Pope, the
first week in August, began to move his army southwest and
on August gthmet the superb Rebel fighter, Stonewall
Jackson, at Cedar Mountain

 McClellan had received his first order to move to Acquia
Creek on August 3rd. It was, of course, a bitter pill for the
general to take, for it placed him in the amazing position of
having to transfer his troops to Pope, until none were left. On
August 8th, he had not reached Acquia Creek.

 Late in the afternoon of the 8th, reports of terrible losses
at Cedar Mountain, began to reach the War Department.
Lincoln, who was in the state of taut nerves usual with him
when a battle was in progress, had refused to eat, and was
spending the afternoon in Stanton's offices, reading dispatches
as they came from the hands of the telegraph operators.

 "Supposing this turns into a big engagement, Stanton," he
exclaimed a dozen times during the afternoon. "McClellan's
in no position to helpl"

 "He wouldn't help if he were in the right position," grunted
Stanton. "But you would handle the fellow gentlyl Why don't
you get rid of him now7"

 Lincoln sighed. Why didn't he get rid of McClellan? Why
not send a telegram now7 He was asking himself this question
the last of the afternoon, when an unwonted interruption
occurred. Mary came in, followed by a little middle-aged
woman in black. She wore a very modest crinoline and a
serviceable scoop bonnet. There was, even to Lincoln's casual
glance, an extraordinary intellectual force in her fine eyes and
clean-cut features.

 "I know I'm not supposed to enter here, gentlemen," said
Mary, smiling, "but I have a legitimate excuse. I claim your
ear for this lady, Miss Clara Barton, who came to me because
she had been unable to reach the President. Miss Barton has
collected a whole warehouse of comforts for our soldiers, and
she's been doling them out in the most practical manner. But
now she has a new idea."

 Mary's eager eyes would have won an audience for Miss
Barton, had not the newcomer's own manner vouched for her.

"What may we do for you, Madam7" asked Lincoln.

 "I want to go where only evil women go," said Miss Barton.
"I want to go to the battlefields. I want to give aid to the
wounded there, where it is first needed. If I do and succeed,
other women will follow me and

186 FOREVER FREE

some day we shall have nurses at the front where they
belong. Mr. President and Mr. Secretary, I want to start for
Cedar Mountain, now."

 "It's a preposterous idea, Madam," declared Stanton.
"Preposterous! Why should you think of such a things"

Miss Barton clasped her hands. She had beautiful hands.

 "When those soldiers I'd taught as children came back
from Ball's Bluff, last year, and I saw them suffering from
neglect boys maimed and dying who could have been saved
on the battlefield, I resolved that this was the thing I must
do, that other women could follow. I've had months of
snubbing and evasion, but at last I have Major Ruckett's
passports, but I must have more. I must have President
Lincoln's word."

 "I have no word to give you, Madam," said Lincoln, sadly.
"Your kind heart has made you impractical. Of what avail
can any woman be in a sanguinary flood like this?"

 "Mr. Lincoln," cried Mrs. Lincoln, "if you don't send Miss
Barton off with the word she asks, I swear I'm going with
her myself, to show the soldiers how the Lincolns feell
Come to think of it, why can't I go? Why wouldn't it be a
singularly appropriate thing for me?" The idea took instant
hold of her imagination. She glanced about the dull, heavily
furnished room, unseeingly. "I must do something for the
wart All of you making such sacrifices, doing such good, and
I with my idle, empty hands.... The White House is a living
tomb to my energies."

 Lincoln blinked for a moment, then a flood of
self-reproach surged to his lips. "My dear wife," he began.

 Mary would not allow him to proceed. "Why not? Miss
Barton has only shown me what we all know, that succor on
the field is one of the crying needs of war. Let me not go
down in history as a social nonentity! Let me give my talents
and my energy to this idea of Miss Barton'sl Let me too go
to Cedar Mountainl"

 "No, my dear wifel" said Lincoln, decisively. "You must be
content with having won Stanton and me to Miss Barton's
cause. Eh, Stanton?"

 The Secretary of War was touched by Mary's plea. "We'll
give Miss Barton our blessing, of course, if that will make
Mrs. Lincoln happy. But it's nonsense, her thinking of such
a trip for herself."

 "Tell the men I have given you Godspeed and that my
every thought and prayer is with them, Miss Barton," said
Lincoln.

"Write it on my passport, Mr. President," cried Clara Barton.

 "You are a practical soull I know you'll succeed." Mary
smiled in spite of her agitation.

 Lincoln wrote, then took Mary's arm. "I reckon I'd better
make the acquaintance of my family, again," he said.

 They saw Miss Barton on her way, then, at Mary's urgent
request, Lincoln took a short turn with her in the garden.

 "You've been warning me against strolling for fear of a
bullet," he said with a smile, "but I suppose you can protect
me, you darling midget."

"Don't joke about it, Abra'ml" protested Mary, then pausing
before a

CEDAR MOUNTAIN 187

magnificent bed of poppies, petunias and coxcomb, she
exclaimed: "Therel I had to fight for a bed of old-fashioned
things that I knew could bloom in this dreadful Washington
August. The gardener, in company with the rest of this
charming city, thinks I'm very common in my tastes."

  "Can't blame 'em, when they see what you've married!"
Lincoln chuckled. "But that bed of flowers just suits my liking.
Plenty of color, plenty of smell."

  He walked slowly around the bed, his hands clasped behind
him. He was wearing a much rumpled linen duster over shirt
and trousers, just as he had rushed from his bedroom that
morning, at the first words from Cedar Mountain. He was a
little faint from lack of food and the vivid mass of flowers
with its heavy odor in the sultry heat danced before his eyes
in utter unreality.

  Mary, with her uncanny intuitions, sensed exactly what was
passing in his mind.

  "You're trying to appear pleased because you think I need
calming down, you dear thingl" she exclaimed. "I don't need
that, Abra'm, this timer I wouldn't add a straw's weight to
your cares. Enjoy the flowers for yourself or not at all."

  Lincoln strode quickly back around the bed to her side.
"Mary, are you unhappy?"

  She took his arm, and they walked slowly into the kitchen
garden, between rows of sweet corn with sharp leaves rasping
in the burning wind.

  "I'm emptyl" she said, finally. "No one but myself realises
how much Willie meant to me. He was the child to count on.
He was always there. He understood me and forgave me and
admired me. He was the son I always felt would take care of
me if anything happened to you."

  Lincoln pulled off an ear of corn in the milk, and began to
nibble on the silk which lay along the grains. The uneasy
contrition he always felt when Mary was in one of these
moods crowded out, for the moment, his anxiety over Cedar
Mountain. He did neglect her. She was bitterly lonely, and
through no fault of hers. All the vital, exhilarating emanations
of his mind and soul were going to his work, and only his
moments of weariness and dullness were left for her. And,
lately, he'd shut her out of the future for which she always
had been an inspiration. The more his responsibilities
increased, he thought, the more he tended to share his real
thoughts with no one. In this, he knew he'd been carelessly
cruel to her. She was starving for companionship. Small
wonder she turned to Charles Sumner, he thought, or now
that Charles was immersed in the politics of emancipation,
that she had wished to join Miss Clara Barton.

  Mary, pulling a weed here, supporting a gourd plant there,
did not interrupt his thinking. She loved the garden, and
worked in it frequently, in the early mornings. This was the
first time the President recalled having entered this spot, and
he resolved, after this, to make it a walking place. It was
more like home to him than any place he'd found since
leaving Springfield.

88 FOREVER FREE

 "Mary," he said, finally, "you know I'm not at all a versatile
fellow, and it's taking every ounce I've got in me to husk out
this job. I've wondered lately if I'll ever again be able to love
any one the way I'd like to, the way a man ought to. I'll tell
you, wife, loving takes time and thought!"

 "It does, indeed!" agreed Mary, standing quietly by the
raspberry bushes, and eyeing a late variety unseeingly.

"I've neglected your" he exclaimed, abruptly.

 "You should have allowed me to join Miss Barton. You
should not deny me the chance to use my brain and strength
in this war." Mary's voice was not reproachful. She was only
stating facts.

 "No, by jingsl" cried the President, "that's going too farl
Do you imagine for a moment I'm going to allow you to go
where there's danger of your life? Willie's death was bad
enough. I'd never get over yours."

 Tears came to Mary's eyes. She looked up into his face. "I
know that you depend on me for physical comforts, dear.
But you no longer need me on the mental side. That's
what's killing me."

 "That's where you guess wrong," declared Lincoln. "I need
you mentally as much as I ever did but I haven't or rather
I've neglected to come to you. For instance, I've been telling
myself for weeks that I was going to talk over emancipation
with you and I haven't."

 "Have you put it up to the Cabinet, yet7" asked Mary, with
quick interest.

 Lincoln pulled some raspberries, and began to eat them.
"Yes, last month I did so. The reaction was typical of each
man." He gave a rapid resume of the Cabinet meeting,
ending with the remark, "I shall have no trouble with any of
them. Even Chase will fall into line, nasty as he feels toward
me."

 "No, they'll make no trouble," agreed Mary. "McClellan,
the Unready, will be the one to render your proclamation
void after you issue it."

"How can he do that?" asked Lincoln.

 "He's now the acknowledged leader of the Democratic
Party," answered Mary. "As such, he's bound to oppose
emancipation."

"But what do you think his move will be?" urged the
President.

 "Consider his past record, Abra'm. I remember John Hay's
reply to me in April, when I asked him for the latest news
from the front. He replied with that grandiloquent air of his,
'Pope is crossing the turbid and broad torrent of the
Mississippi in the blaze of the enemy's fire, Grant is fighting
the overwhelming legions of Beauregard at Pittsburg
Landing, while McClellan, our Little Napoleon, sits
trembling before the handful of men at Yorktown, afraid to
fight.' Then he added, like the real human boy he is,
'Stanton feels devilish about it!' . . . Abra'm, can't you feel
devilish about McClellan?"

"Nol I like him! . . . This isn't telling me what he's going to
do."

 "He's going to take your place in the White House if he
can. And he's going to make this as nearly a bloodless war
as far as his share in it goes as he can, in order to entice the
Democrats to putting him there. There will

CEDAR MOUNTAIN 18

be no decisive victories here, in the East, until you break
McClellan, Abra'm. He's your evil genius. What does
fascinate you so about him7

  "He's a thoroughly likeable fellow, Mary. And, beside that,
he has all the qualities that I lack. He's a scholar, a polished
gentleman of the world, and a natural born boss. His men
worship him. His staff would die for him. Why shouldn't I
like such a man?"

  Mary's cheeks flushed. "And you think you lack all those
qualities, with your splendid mind and your gentleman's
soul. You make me indignantl . . ." She paused to eye him
reflectively, while he plucked another handful of berries.
"Now I understand," she exclaimed. "We've got back to your
ultimate weakness. Your affection for McClellan is causing
you the whole trouble. Weakness, Abra'm. The failing that's
been your curse all your life. And now it's proving to be the
country's curse. You must get rid of McClellanl"

  Lincoln ate his berries dejectedly, pondering on the
accusation. Was she rights Was this the answer to the
question he'd been asking himself all day? Was his affection
for this handsome, debonair, brilliant soldier his real reason
for keeping him? At any rate, Mary had given him a new
angle, perhaps a helpful angle, on the problem.

  He suddenly squared his shoulders. "Comer This isn't
helping you any, my dear wifel I've a suggestion for you.
When, or if, Miss Barton returns from Cedar Mountain,
have a talk with her, and organize your own hospital work
along the useful lines she'll suggest. Plan to give at least half
of every day to that work, and keep me informed of the
conditions in the army that one gets only by contact with the
men, which I can't get."

  Mary brightened. "It will really help? This is not a mere
sop to my wailing?"

  "It will really help," replied the President, sincerely. "And
now I must return to torment!" starting slowly toward his
office via the kitchen entrance. Mary followed him, but
stopped behind in the sweltering kitchen for a talk with the
cook. She knew that if she remained longer with the
President she could not keep silence about the linen duster!

CHAPTER XXV

              BULL P.UN AGAIN

  HE Northern forces were repulsed at Cedar Mountain,
and Pope's | Army fell back to the Rappahannock. Still
McClellan did not reEn

 ~ force him. Lee sent a part of his forces to the north to
cut off Pope's communications with Washington, and Pope
hastily moved back toward Manassas to circumvent him.
And still McClellan sent him no men.

 These sultry days of August were the most wearying of any
Lincoln had experienced. He, himself, had given them a
more stupendous significance than they otherwise might
have had, by agreeing to postpone the issuing of the
proclamation until a great victory would sugar-coat it for
public consumption.

 Outwardly calm and cheerful, inwardly he was burning
with an anxiety that he showed only to his wife, and7
occasionally, to young Hay. Nicolay was away a good deal
that summer, in the mountains, trying to rid himself of ague,
and John Hay was with Lincoln more than ever. The young
secretary was conniving with Mrs. Lincoln, constantly, to
give the President moments of amusement. Lincoln was
conscious of their efforts and grateful for them. But the trip
to the Observatory "to take a squint at Arcturus and the
moon" which he and John made, was spoiled for him by the
fact that the carriage was followed by a lieutenant and eight
cavalrymen, the clatter of whose horses he found almost
unsupportable.

 "Baker and Welles and Sumner are responsible for thisl"
he groaned to John, on his way back from the Observatory.
"It's awfull Let's go to Ford's theater and see what's going
on therel"

 John, when Mrs. Lincoln greeted them on their late
return, insisted that the call at Ford's had been most
salutary.

 "It was a Sacred Concert of Profane Music," he explained
to her, when she half smilingly chided the two whom she
found laughing in Hay's room at one o'clock, over a poem
of Hood's that Lincoln had clipped. "We had a private box,
near the stage, the Tycoon and I, and we carried on a hefty
flirtation with the girls in the flies. I will say the Tycoon has
a knowing glance."

 Mary suddenly pulled the tired young man's face down to
hers and kissed him. "I don't know what we'd do without
you, John."

 Lincoln, sitting with his feet on the window sill, nodded.
"I'd kiss him myself, only I'm doubtful about either of us
enjoying it."

 "You'd better make much of me while you can," declared
John, solemnly. "I'm slowly shaking to pieces with the ague.
Lookl" pointing to the loose buttons on his coat.

"I'll tighten them for you, or get Lizzie Keckley to, if you'll
leave the

BULL RUN AGAIN 191

coat with me," said Mary. "Come, Mr. Lincoln, let this boy go
to his well-earned rest."

 As the President slowly lowered his feet, Mary began to
laugh. "Lizzie told me an amusing thing. She was coming up
the north driveway behind a couple of soldiers, to-day, and
one of them pointed to a second floor window. She says three
pairs of feet could be seen on the sill. One of the men said,
perfectly seriously, 'The Cabinet is a-setting. Them big feet in
the middle is Lincoln's."'

 The President's huge roar drowned John's and tucking
Mary under his arm, he ambled off to bed.

 But not to sleep. As soon as his head touched the pillow,
his mind reverted to McClellan, to Pope, and to his own
questionable sanity in keeping faith in the Little Napoleon.
Nor was this night an exception to other nights. By the
middle of August he was having so few hours of sleep that
Mary appealed to Dr. Stone who promptly ordered him out
to the Soldiers' Home every night during the remainder of
the month. Mary swallowed her prejudice against the place,
and moved out for the month and the President, perforce,
obeyed, reluctantly riding his horse amidst the attending
cavalrymen. The long ride helped him, not so much in
sleeping, as in relaxing. At the Soldiers' Home he, as the wise
doctor realized, was not within easy access of the telegraph
office.

 The ride back in the mornings, with Taddie often clattering
beside him on his pony, and with Pensacola and Sumter
risking their lives among the pounding hoofs, was not so
restful. Each rod that they covered brought him an increased
sense of burden. The familiar feeling of living in a nightmare
would settle on him as he left the shaded country road, and
clattered onto the city cobbles, and everything save the
impending conflict in Virginia would become unreal to him
by the time they reached the White House.

 The days crept slowly on, thunderstorms alternating with
burning sun. McClellan, moving with unbelievable reluctance
and deliberation, did not leave Harrison's Landing until the
17th of August, and did not report himself as available in
Alexandria until ten days later.

 Pope's campaign had now reached a perilous stage. He and
Lee were maneuvering for position. On the zgth of August
they met and the second battle of Bull Run was begun.

It lasted for two days.

 Lincoln spent practically all of the two days in Halleck's
office, observing, in anguished perplexity, the exchange of
telegrams between the General-in-Chief and McClellan,
watching the fluctuating reports from Pope with growing
despondency. Toward mid-afternoon of the zgth, the
bickering between Halleck and McClellan got on his nerves;
the former giving orders growing more peremptory every
hour, the latter giving excuses more or less unsatisfactory for
not obeying them. At last Lincoln's patience broke.

 "Halleck, in the name of God, doesn't McClellan want to
reenforce Pope7"

               FOREVER FREE

 Halleck threw up his hands. Stanton, who had been
walking the floor for two hours, without cessation, turned on
the President and sneered: "You know he doesn't! I'd call
him in and court-martial him for treason, to-night, if you'd
keep out of it. Pope says what men he has of the Army of
the Potomac are malcontent and insubordinate. McClellan's
jealousy and resentment have percolated to the very
drummer boys. You'll find that, now McClellan has finally
permitted Franklin to start to relieve Pope, he'll arrive there
too late."

 And Franklin did arrive too late, as did the other army
commanders that McClellan finally started toward Bull Run.
By Sunday night, August 30th, Lincoln and all the world
knew that Pope had been beaten and was again retreating.
And not only was he retreating! He telegraphed Halleck
that his army was utterly demoralised, and begged to be
withdrawn into the defences of Washingtonl

 Halleck, himself, brought Lincoln this message, before the
President was out of bed on Monday morning. Seward, who
had come before breakfast for news, and John Hay, both
consumed with anxiety, followed the General-in-Chief.
Lincoln, having read the message, swung his long legs out of
bed, thrust his feet into carpet slippers and began to walk
the floor.

 "I've sent for McClellan to come to Washington and give
us his advice," said Halleck.

 Seward uttered an oath, then, with a sudden drawing of
his breath that was almost a sob, he said, "Is it true, Mr.
Lincoln, that McClellan sent you a letter saying that Pope
must get out of his scrape by himself7"

 Lincoln did not cease his long, noiseless pacing. "He said
we had two courses available! Either to concentrate all
available forces to open communications with Pope, or leave
Pope to get out of his scrape and use all our means to
safeguard the capital."

 "What did he mean, sir?" asked John Hay, resplendent in
a green and crimson silk bathrobe. "It doesn't seem possible
that he could have meant what he wrote."

 Seward turned to John. "Hay, what's the use of growing
old? You learn something of men and things, but too late to
use it. I have only now found out that military jealousy has
prevented these generals from acting for the welfare of the
country."

"It's something I wouldn't have thought possible!" exclaimed
Hay.

 "Why should you?" Seward said gloomily. "You aren't old.
I should have known it and helped my associates prepare for
it."

 Lincoln gave no heed to this exchange. His mind was still
on Bull Run. "What are our losses, Halleck?"

"Too early for accuracy. Perhaps ten thousand! At least six
thousand."

 The President wiped his dripping face. "Why did you send
for McClellan, Halleck?"

 "If he caused this demoralisation," replied Halleck, who
was trembling with exhaustion, "he'll be the quickest man to
end it."

 "You go home to bed, Halleck," ordered Lincoln. "See to
it that McClellan comes to me, when he arrives."

BULL RUN AGAIN 193

 "Yes, Mr. President." Halleck swayed as he stood. John Hay
and Seward ran to his assistance and helped him from the
room.

 Waiting for McClellan, that day, Lincoln was so uneasy that
for once his sense of humor deserted him, and when a
deputation of clergymen visited him, the extraordinary
character of their demands irritated him. They demanded that
the President prohibit Sunday battles. He showed them to the
door with the request that they take their complaints to
Jefferson Davis and Lee. He still was glowering a half hour
after this, when McClellan came in.

 He was sunburned but immaculate. At the look of him,
Lincoln's irritation found words. "General Pope, I imagine,
has had no chance for a shave for a week."

 McClellan who had entered with a pleasant smile on his
handsome face immediately scowled.

"What am I to understand by that, sir?" he demanded.

 "Sit down, General," waving his hand at the chair beside his
desk, "and let's see if we can thresh this thing out."

 McClellan obeyed, sitting bolt upright, as though his
uniform were of steel.

 "Pope," said Lincoln, slowly, "is a first rate officer. He
proved that out West. His ideas for handling this Virginia
campaign were excellent. There is every probability that he'd
have whipped, and really hurt, the enemy if you had
cooperated with him. You made a mistake in not doing so,
General. You have turned popular opinion against you."

"What is popular opinion to a soldier?" demanded McClellan.

  "It should be nothing," agreed the President, with alacrity.
"But you are playing politics, McClellan, with more eagerness
than you're showing in the military game. So public opinion
should count with you. Look yonder!" pointing to an
enormous heap of letters and telegrams on the Cabinet table.
"Those are all requests from people demanding that I remove
you. There are several thousand of them now and they're still
coming. There's a petition, I understand, circulating among
the Cabinet members, urging me to retire you. That's not
good hearing, is it, Mac, for a man of your particular
ambitions?"

  McClellan had grown noticeably pale under his tan. He
stared incredulously at the heaped-up contumely on the table.
Nothing was more difficult for him to face than adverse
criticism.

  "It strikes me," Lincoln went on, "that you're acting stupidly.
If you want my job, if you carry out the suggestions that are
in the very air you breathe, you'll need more than the Army
of the Potomac to back you. You'll need Grant and Burnside
and Pope. And now, if I read the signs alight, you'll never
have them. They'll be like me, hurt in their most tolerant
judgment of you. You failed a brother officer in his hour of
need."

  McClellan jumped to his feet, but the President reached out
a long, hard hand and thrust him gently back into his chair.

"George," his voice husky, "this is the crisis of your life. Be
frank with

194 FOREVER FREE

me. You may dare to be. I have a great affection for
you, as if you were a gallant younger brother with
advantages I'd never had."

 The General's face softened. "What do you wish me to say,
Mr. Lincoln?"

 "Before I answer that," said Lincoln, "let me ask you if you
realizewhat you've done to Pope? He believes that you
wished him to fail. He believes that, at the very mildest, you
encouraged your officers to enfeeble their movements by
vain regrets that they were fighting under Pope and not you.
And the disloyalty, the treasonable taint of it, has broken his
spirit. You and your henchmen have put Pope through hell
in this month of August and he's broken. He's asked me to
remove him. And the country can ill afford to lose the
officer that Pope was a short four weeks ago.... What I want
you to tell me, George, is why you did it."

 "I was utterly unwilling, sir," said McClellan with
convincing earnestness, "to leave Washington unprotected,
in order to help Pope. I would not be human and not regret
that my place had been taken from me. But that regret in no
way influenced my actions in the past month. I could not be
a soldier and see you civilian politicians throw Washington
into the lap of the Confederacy. Pope's campaign was absurd
from the inception. Had you sent him, and all his available
forces, to me at Harrison's Landing, we'd have been in
Richmond two weeks ago." He leaned forward in his chair
and looking into Lincoln's face with his unwavering blue
eyes, he said, "No matter what pressure is brought to bear
on me, sir, I shall make no military move that I know to be
absurd."

 Lincoln returned his look thoughtfully. Grant could not be
spared from the West. Burnside was, in some ways, a feeble
sister. Pope was useless, temporarily, at least. And even as
he and McClellan sat talking, there was pouring beck upon
terrified Washington an army of a hundred thousand men,
who had left their morale on the malignant flats of Bull
Run. If Lee with his intrepid, fast-moving fighting machine
knew this, and could gather himself up after the terrific
efforts that had culminated in the victory of two days before,
he could scatter the Army of Virginia beyond recall. Superb
fighters, these Southerners, he told himself, adding, aloud,
to McClellan's surprise, "Why not, they are Americans, tool"

 Half despairingly he checked these facts over in his mind,
while he returned McClellan's look, feeling meanwhile a
resurgence of the halfadmiring, half-humorous affection that
never wholly disappeared from his attitude toward the
general. Talk logically as he would, he could not convince
himself that McClellan was not intrinsically honest. What a
personality, to have become such an influence with his armyl
Surely that army could go anywhere, do anything, if
McClellan would see the light.

 "I particularly wish not to quarrel with you, George," said
the President, at last. "But I do think it essential, at this
moment, to make you see clearly what I know about you.
You have said many times and in many ways, that the
Administration was made up of imbeciles. That we wished
you to fail. That I am a despicable fool. That Stanton is a
bad lot. Believing these things, I suppose they form the
mainspring for your actions during the past year. Is this sot"

BULL RUN AGAIN 195

 "I beg of you not to insist upon a reply, if you desire to a
quarrel, sir. I will say, however, that you have now shown me
the source of your resentment toward me."

 "I have no resentment toward you, George. I desire nothing
so much on God's footstool as your success. No matter what
has been said to me I've clung to you and my old ideal of
you. To prove that to you, I'll make a bargain with you. I will
give you Pope's job if you will promise me to give back the
army its morale and having done this, to start swiftly after the
enemy and hurt him. If you win a battle, follow him, drive him
to Richmond and take Richmond if you can. But whether you
can or not, move swiftly, move swiftly, move swfftlyl"

"There's a reverse side to that offer, Mr. Lincoln?" asked
McClellan.

"Yes, I reckon there is. But we won't discuss that."

 The general came to his feet smartly. "I accept your offer,
Mr. President, in the spirit in which it is given. We'll be on
the march within the week."

 "Goodl Goodl You may count on the complete cooperation
of Halleck and myself."

The two men shook hands and McClellan clattered out.

 Lincoln sat by the window alone for the moment, girding
himself for the national uproar of disapproval that would
greet the reappointment of McClellan. Had he been weak
again? He knew what Mary and Stanton would reply to that
query. He was more dissatisfied with himself than he ever
remembered having been over a decision. And again his
dissatisfaction showed itself in irritation when he was
interrupted by the breathless entrance of a bearded man in
uniform.

 "I'm Colonel Stone, Mr. President," he said. "I was wounded
in the Peninsular campaign and my wife came down to nurse
me. She was drowned by a steamboat collision in Hampton
Roads. I've learned that they've recovered her body and I
want a pass to go down and get it."

 A deep sense of irritation swept over Lincoln. He looked at
the officer coldly. "Am I to have no rest?" he ejaculated. "Is
there no hour or spot when or where I may escape this
constant call on my feelings? Why do you bother me and not
the War Office?"

 Colonel Stone looked dazed; as if he could not believe this
to be the President. "Mr. Stanton refused me," he said.

 "Then probably you ought not to go down the river. Stanton
knows. If I override his decision it might work disaster on
some important movement. You ought not to come here to
appeal to my humanity. Don't you know we are in the midst
of war, and that suffering and death press on us all? Works
of humanity are trampled on and outlawed by war. You
must not vex me with your family troubles. I have all the
burdens I can carry. If the War Office won't help you, then
bear your burden as we all must until the war is over.
Everything must yield to the paramount duty of finishing the
war."

 Colonel Stone, looking utterly crushed, withdrew. Lincoln
saw, with a sort of pleasure, that he had hurt the man. He'd
proved to one person, at least, that he was not always softl

CHAPTER XXVI

                 ANTIETAM

 ~ T first peep of dawn, the next day, after a sleepless
night, Lincoln LO with his yawning escort started for the
White House. He reached ~ ~ there before six o'clock,
and dismissed the lieutenant. Then he went down through
the kitchen and the kitchen garden to elude the guard, and
made a successful escape to Pennsylvania Avenue. He strode
among the charwomen at Willard's Hotel and asked the
astounded desk clerk for Colonel Stone's room. A moment
later he was pounding on a door on the second floor.

 The Colonel in rumpled uniform admitted him. Lincoln
seized his hand. "Colonel Stone," he exclaimed, "I was a
brute, yesterday. I have no excuse for my conduct. I was
tired, but that's no reason I should be rude to a man who
has offered his life for his country, much more, a man who
has come to me in great affliction. I've had a regretful night.
Will you forgive met"

 "God knows I'd forgive you more than that, Mr. Lincolnl"
exclaimed Colonel Stone. "I never realized the stress you
were under until yesterday afternoon. Don't give me another
thought, sir."

 "But you didn't sleep yourself, Colonel, last night, and
'twas my fault," insisted Lincoln, glancing at the untouched
bed. "You go to the War Office, this noon. You'll find your
passport there. No, don't thank me! I don't deserve it."

And he was gone.

 As he passed through the lobby, he came upon Lizzie
Keckley. He paused. "VVell, Lizzie, what are you doing here
at this ungodly hour?"

 The mantua maker looked up at him in surprise. "I have
just delivered a dress that I finished last night. I'm now on
my way to the White House."

 "Come along then, we'll both use shank's mare. Getting
Mrs. Lincoln all fixed for the winters"

 "No, sir, I'm not sewing for Mrs. Lincoln now, Mr.
President. I had news for her. I'd like to repeat it to you, sir,
if you're willing."

 They were moving along Pennsylvania Avenue, Lizzie at
a trot to keep up with Lincoln.

 "I'm all ears, Lizzie. You ought to be drawing pay on
Baker's staff, I reckon."

 "I've discovered Miss Ford. There's a house on F Street,
very elegant, that's known to have been disreputable. All the
blinds kept down, and all that. Well, one of my girls left me,
last spring, and set up for herself. She came to see me,
yesterday, and said she'd been sent for by a person living in
that house, who signed herself Mrs. Ogden-Ames. And that
she
ANTIETAM 1 97

was so hard up she'd taken the risk of harming her trade and
had gone. She said Mrs. Ogden-Ames was very tall with violet
eyes and back hair. She asked Anna where she'd learned her
trade, and luckily Anna didn't mention me, because she was
afraid I'd be cross at that kind of a connection. The lady
probably made up her mind that Anna was just a plantation
rigger, so she wanted to hire her as a personal maid and
seamstress and take her to Europe. Said her own maid had
run away."

 They were in the White House grounds now, and Lincoln
led the way to the kitchen garden.

 "Anna was excited over the prospects of going to Paris, so
she accepted, and then came to me, last night, to tell me of
her good luck. She said the house seemed empty of all
inmates, and that only Mrs. Ogden-Ames and an old serving
man named Uncle Bob were there."

 "What made you suspicious?" asked Lincoln, beginning to
eat dew-wet raspberries.

 "Well, you see, at first, Mr. President, I didn't suspect
anything and I went round with Anna to carry her luggage.
Uncle Bob let us in the back way. The whole front was dark,
but from the kitchen you could see a light in the dining room.
Uncle Bob said he was just serving supper, and that I was to
leave before he was called into the dining room. I'd never
been inside one of these houses, and I wasn't going without
trying to see what I could. I nodded to Uncle Bob and went
out into the back yard. I watched through a crack in the
shade until Uncle Bob went into the dining room. Then I
slipped into the back hall, then into the *font hall and
peeked through the curtains. Mr. President, Miss Ford, with
her hair dyed black, was having supper with a tall, handsome
officer, dressed like a Federal, but she called him 'Tom.' It
was certainly Captain Tom Taylor. I had a chance to listen to
only a few sentences, because they came out into the hall and
Captain Taylor left.

 "I can't remember whole sentences like Jinny did. But they
were talking about when you'd get your nerve up to issuing
an emancipation proclamation. They were saying that if
General McClellan got control of the army again, it would be
best to make him a bold offer from Jefferson Davis. When
Captain Taylor said that Miss Ford laughed at him, she said
that nothing could change General McClellan's loyalty to the
North. She said his honor was perfect. And Captain Taylor
asked her if the General's honor was more than the
Secessionists had who had deserted the North.

 "Miss Ford didn't answer that. But she said she'd seen Mr.
Mercy the day before, and he'd told her France was anxious
to come in here the minute England would join. He said the
sympathy of the French Emperor was all for the South. And
she said Horace Greeley had asked the French Minister to
get his country to come in to make peace."

"I knew that last," interjected Lincoln. "Greeley's got the
shakes."

 "Then Miss Ford said she'd go to England the minute
Captain Taylor told her to. And that was all."

8 FOREVER FREE

 "You should have gone to Baker at once, LizYie," said the
President, gravely.

"It was past midnight then, sir," said the mantua maker.

 "Well, no use criticizingl You go to Baker's office now.
Here, take my card," scrawling a line to the Colonel.

 "Yes, sir. Will you tell Mrs. Lincoln, sir? She's so anxious
and won't be relieved till she knows Miss Ford and her
friends are shut up."

 "Smart woman, Sister Ford," mused Lincoln. "Yes, I'll tell
the Madam. Slip along, now, Lizzie."

 He made his way up to his room, musing sadly. Much as
he feared her machinations, he still retained a sense of
grateful affection for the Virginian. Then he promptly forgot
the whole affair, for James met him on the stairs and told
him that Sumner was waiting for him in his office.

 The Senator from Massachusetts had heard it rumored
that McClellan had been reinstated, and he was there to
protest with all the eloquence at his command against "once
more imperiling the nation and emancipation by this terrible
military incubus."

 The rest of that day was spent by Lincoln in listening to
bitter comments on what he had done. He did not blame
even the members of the Cabinet for their outspoken
censure. Stanton, in a heartbroken sort of anger, washed his
hands of McClellan. Seward remarked that McClellan was
the hope of the Confederacy, and the sure forerunner of
intervention from England and France. "One more Federal
defeat here, and the Confederacy will be recognized," he
said. Even "Father" Welles expressed himself as humiliated
by the President's weakness.

 Lincoln was extraordinarily gentle. "Yes, he's acted badly
toward Pope," he admitted when Montgomery Blair
exploded on this point. "He really wanted him to fail. But
there is no one in the army who can man these fortifications
and lick these troops into shape half as well as he can."

 "It's humiliating," he agreed with Welles, "in more ways
than one. But we must use the tools we have. If he cannot
fight himself, he excels in making others ready to fight."

 "This will be a body blow at emancipation, if you really
wish ever to have opportunity to issue your proclamation,"
sneered Chase.

 "The people are gloomy," said Lincoln, wondering if Chase
ever had missed an opportunity to insult him. He had
achieved a consistency almost admirable in thisl "The
Democratic party is uglier in spirit and stronger than it's
been since the war began. There's a sullen discontent abroad
we dare not ignore. If recruiting is to go on, I dare not
offend any large, organized group of people. By his
declarations against my policies, McClellan has made himself
the leader of the Democratic party. It is common sense to
appease that party, at this moment."

 A general groan met this statement. Lincoln felt his cheeks
burn, but he said nothing, and the Cabinet having talked
itself empty on the subject, turned to other matters.

It was Mary, curiously enough, who gave him the one shred
of comfort

ANTIETAM 199

he received. She rode in the carriage with him to the
Soldiers' Home, that night. He told her about the Cabinet
meeting and she said:

 "There are two sides to it, I'll admit, much as I do deplore
what you've done. When word of the reappointment reached
the hospital, to-day, you'd have thought some one had poured
a bottle of wine down the throat of every poor fellow there.
They were cured of their wounds, the country was saved,
'God in his heaven, all right with the world!"'

 The President pulled her hand within his arm and patted it.
They rode in silence for a time then Mary said: "Lizzie
Keckley came in this evening and told me the story. Miss
Ford and her friends had gone bag and baggage when the
detective policemen arrived. But they have some good clews.
That's something."

 "I hope she does go. It may save some dirty work when the
proclamation comes out," said the President.

"Another thing to worry aboutl" groaned his wife.

 And yet, in spite of all the bitterness of the reproaches
heaped upon Lincoln and McClellan, before the week had
passed, they were forgotten. Between the 4th and 7th of
September, General Lee crossed the Potomac, near Leesburg
and entered Maryland. The public mind at once focused on
this new and terrible menace.

 Within a few days, McClellan actually got his army of some
80,ooo moving He began, at once, asking for more men, but
on the whole he appeared to be in a complacent frame of
mind. He moved only at the rate of six miles a day.

 In an agony of apprehension, the nation watched Lee's
rapid, McClellan's leisurely, movements. Lee, certain that
Maryland would welcome him, paused at Frederick for two
days and sent Stonewall Jackson back to take Harper's Ferry.
With his usual skill and impetuosity, Jackson accomplished
this, and the ragged Confederates helped themselves to the
clothing and food with which this Union fort was stored. But
the people of Frederick were not hospitable to Lee, and while
Jackson was in action at Harper's Ferry, Lee moved on
westward to the vicinity of Sharpsburg. Still unhurried,
McClellan followed. On the 16th, the two armies, Lee's with
less than 4o,ooo, McClellan with more than 87,ooo men,
drew up in battle line on either side of Antietam Creek, and
before dawn of the 17th was begun the bloodiest single day's
encounter of the Civil War.

 At night it appeared to be a drawn battle, but the next
morning, Lee began a retreat with his exhausted forces. He
had lost 1l,ooo men.

 Lincoln telegraphed, "Please do not let him get off without
being hurt." McClellan's generals begged to be allowed to
renew the attack, and drive Lee into the Potomac. But
satisfied with having repulsed the invasion of the North,
McClellan made camp in Antietam Valley. His losses totalled
13,000 soldiers.

 For five days, Lincoln urged McClellan to pursue Lee,
insisting that, as a student of war, McClellan must know that
to make an actual military success of Antietam, he ought to
follow the exhausted enemy. McClellan

200 FOREVER FREE

said that his army was exhausted. Lincoln asked if its
exhaustion was greater than that of Lee's army. McClellan,
hurt, replied by asking for reenforcements. Lincoln gave him
every man that could be spared, until the General had
1oo,ooo men with which to pursue the Rebels. On the And
the Army of the Potomac still was resting, and the
newspapers of the country had begun to question the first
wild joy which had called Antietam a glorious victory for the
North.

 That day, at noon, Lincoln called the Cabinet together.
The sullen heat of summer was giving way to the fragrant,
delicate air of autumn which is one of Washington's
charming apologies for her dreadful climate. Lincoln was
glad of this. The ghastly heat was trying to the nerves, and
he had a vivid recollection of the physical oppression that
had added to the irritability of the first discussion of the
proclamation.

 He deeply desired that his associates should meet his
statements to-day with relaxed minds. For some minutes
after the seven men had gathered round the table with him,
he refused to be serious. When Secretary Bates asked him
how large he believed the Rebel army to be, Lincoln replied,
promptly:

"About 1,200,000!"

 A gasp went round the table. The President explained.
"You see when I ask my generals how great the Rebel forces
are, they always guess them to be from three to five times
greater than their own. So, at a minimum, if we have
400,000 soldiers, the Rebels must have three times that
many."

 Everybody but Stanton smiled. The Secretary of War was
annoyed by the President's facetiousness. "Mr. Lincoln," he
asked, severely, "I sent to you yesterday a delegation of fifty
New York millionaires who wouldn't take my 'no' for an
answer, though I roared it in their ears. They wished a
gunboat stationed in New York harbor for its protection
from Rebel rams. I suppose it's too much to hope that you
backed my refusal!"

 Lincoln chuckled. "They opened up on me wrongl They
began by saying that they represented in their own right over
$110,000,000. However, I listened with good attention and
when they'd presented their plea I said, 'Gentlemen, it's
impossible for me, in the present condition of things, to
furnish you a gunboat. We are very short of them. The
credit of the Government is at a very low ebb; greenbacks
are worth not more than forty or fifty cents on the dollar. In
this condition of things, if I were worth half of what you are,
gentlemen, and were as badly frightened as you seem to be,
I'd build a gunboat and give it to the Governmentl' I reckon
I never saw $110,000,000 sink out of sight as quick as that
did! They disappeared into thin airl"

 He took a book from his pocket and put on his spectacles.
"This morning, I received a copy from Artemus Ward of his
new book. I wish I could write like that fellowl Just listen to
this chapter. He calls it a Highhanded Outrage at Utica."

 Lincoln read with gusto and the secretaries laughed as
heartily as he, again with the exception of poor Stanton. But
in spite of Stanton's be


ANrIETAM 201

wilderedannoyance, there was now an air of cheerful freedom
about the Cabinet table that had been lacking for many
weeks, and the President seized the moment.

 "Gentlemen: I have, as you are aware, thought a great deal
about the relation of this war to slavery and you all must
remember that several weeks ago, I read to you an order I
had prepared on this subject. I think the time has now come
to act on that order. I wish it was a better time. I wish that
we were in better condition. The action of the army against
the Rebels has not been what I should have best liked. But
they have been driven out of Maryland, and Pennsylvania is
no longer in danger of invasion. When the Rebel army was
at Frederick, I determined as soon as it should be driven out
of Maryland, to issue a proclamation of emancipation. I said
nothing to any one, but I made the promise to myself
and to my Maker.

 "The Rebel army is now driven out, and I am going to
fulfill that promise. I have got you together to hear what I
have written down. I do not wish your advice about the main
matter, for that I have determined for myself. This I say
without intending anything but respect for any one of you.
But I already know the views of each on this question. They
have been heretofore expressed, and I have considered them
as thoroughly and carefully as I can. What I have written is
that which my reflections have determined me to say.

 "If there is anything in the expressions I use or in any
minor matter which any one of you think had better be
changed, I shall be glad to receive the suggestions.

 "One other observation I will make. I know that many
others might, in this matter, as in others, do better than I
can. And if I were satisfied that the public confidence was
more surely possessed by any one of them than by me, and
knew of any constitutional way he could be put in my place,
he should have it. I would gladly yield it to him.

 "But though I believe that I have not so much of the
confidence of the people as I had some time since, I do not
know that, all things considered, any person has more. And,
however this may be, there is no way in which I can have any
other man put where I am.

 "I am here. I must do the best I can to bear the
responsibility of taking the course which I think I ought to
take."

 He removed his spectacles, polished them with a red cotton
handkerchief, replaced them, and read the manuscript that
had become so essential a part of his being that he felt as
though he were reading his very heart.

 "I, Abraham Lincoln, President of the United States and
Commanderin-Chief of the Army and Navy thereof, do
hereby proclaim and declare that hereafter as heretofore, the
war will be prosecuted for the object of practically restoring
the constitutional relations between the United States and
each of the States and the people thereof, in which State that
relation is or may be suspended or disturbed.

"That it is my purpose, upon the next meeting of Congress,
to again

202 FOREVER FREE

recommend the adoption of a practical measure, tendering
pecuniary aid to the free acceptance or rejection of all the
slave States, so called, the people whereof may not then be
in rebellion against the United States, and which States may
then have voluntarily adopted, or thereafter may voluntarily
adopt, the immediate or gradual abolishment of slavery
within their respective limits.

 "That on the first day of January, in the year of our Lord
one thousand eight hundred and sixty-three, all persons held
as slaves within States, or designated parts of a State, the
people thereof shall thus be in rebellion against the United
States, shall be then, thenceforward and forever free...."

 He paused for a moment after pronouncing the last two
words, thinking as he had thought every time he had written
them that no two words in the human tongue ever had been
charged with such portentousness, then he went on with the
provisions for carrying out the postulates of the
proclamation.

 There was a silence after the reading was done, broken by
a deep sigh that seemed to spring from the heart of every
man in the room.

"The die is castl" exclaimed Seward, with a little smile.

 Lincoln nodded. "I can only trust in God I have made no
mistake. It is now for the country and the world to pass
judgment upon it."

 "I'll give it to the newspapers this afternoon," said Seward,
briskly. "The storm will break in about twenty-four hours."

And it dial

               CHAPTER XXVII
                  B RADY

PERHAPS, as William Stoddard said, the waste paper baskets
in the ~ White House, for weeks following the publication
of the emancipa

  - tion proclamation, told best the story of its reception by
the public. They could not be emptied rapidly enough to
keep poor Stoddard's desk cleared of the thousands of
letters and telegrams that poured upon it, daily.

  For every word of praise from the Northern radicals, there
were ten of censure from the Northern conservatives. The
epithets of "unconstitutional tyrant" and "odious dictator"
were the mildest applied to Lincoln. The proclamation was
a "filthy ukase," a "vicious blow at the sacred liberty of white
men," a "vile dead letter, stinking of poison." Lincoln was
warned that the Union soldiers would fight no more; that
"the Army will disband, rather than be sacrificed on the
bloody altar of fanatical Abolition."

  Lincoln, as he and his advisers had foreseen, had furnished
the Democratic party with invaluable ammunition for its
campaign in the fall elections of Governors and
Congressmen, now pending. This was to be a source of acute
anxiety to the President, for without the backing of Congress
the proclamation would be of little worth.

  The indignation of the South was volubly expressed in
every form by which it was hoped Lincoln could be reached.
The mysterious "Grape Vine Telegraph" system, as Lincoln
called it, never worked more efficiently than it did in
transferring from the South to the North, the wrath and
threats of the Southern leaders.

  Perhaps nothing more completely epitomized Southern
feeling than a letter Stoddard brought to Lincoln about a
week after the proclamation was issued.

  "Here, sir, is a letter from Miss Ford. Do you care to see
it, before I turn it over to Colonel Baker?"

"Jingsl" grunted the President, holding out his hand.

  The letter, written on Executive Mansion note paper, was
undated, and without postmark.

  "This is to warn you, Abraham Lincoln, as I have warned
you repeatedly, that by this insane proclamation you have
not only jeopardized your own life, but you have immensely
strengthened the South, and so have wrecked the future of
your Government. If the virulent hate you have roused in my
soul is a criterion, as I know it to be, of the detestation for
you in the heart of every other slaveholder, there is no
possibility that you can live after January lSt."

Lincoln returned the letter to Stoddard, with a grunt.

204 FOREVER FREE

  "I'm no braver than any other man, Billy," he said, "but
they have threatened me too muchl You can get used to
anything, even to living in fear of assassination. That's my
state of mind. Send that letter to Baker, and say nothing
about it to any one."

  These things were not easy to bear. Yet there were many
demonstrations of approval, from sources of great strength.
A conference of Governors, gathered at Altoona to confer
on the military situation, was in session at the time of the
issuing of the proclamation. Seventeen of these men
endorsed the President's act. Only the Governors of the four
border States and of New Jersey refused to approve.

  The churches, spheres of enormous influence, were
unstinting in their enthusiasm. Perhaps the Baptist
Convention of New York, as Lincoln said to his wife, "got
the point" as well as any one in the world, when it wrote,
that, though it saw with agony the slaughter on the
battlefield, it could not regard "the sacrifice of life and
treasure too much for the object to be procured. Human
slavery is the procuring cause of the rebellion . . . the spirit
of the age, the safety of the country, the laws of God require
its entire removal."

  Charles Sumner voiced the solemn joy of the radicals of
the North, a day or so after the publication of the
proclamation, when he sat at tea with Mary Lincoln. He
spoke, of course, as the orator, but with that profound clarity
and depth of perception characteristic of him.

  "It is a great document. It hasn't, indeed, the sanction of
States as a constitutional provision, or of Congress as a
statute, or of a high tribunal as a rule of law. It could not,
perhaps, be pleaded in any court as securing the liberty of a
single slave. But in its significance and effect it stands before
any edict, secular or ecclesiastical, since Constantine
proclaimed Christianity as the religion of the Roman world."

  Mary's cheeks flushed and her eyes kindled. "Yesl Yest"
she exclaimed, ardently. Then her face suddenly blanched.
"But, Senator, I live in an agony of apprehension!
Assassinationl"

  Sumner said nothing for a short time. They were sitting by
the open window. Mary, in a white silk dress, looked like a
Dresden shepherdess against the heavy crimson hangings.
The Senator was somewhat haggard, but there was an
expression of serenity in his blue eyes.

  "Dear Mrs. Lincoln," he said, with a smile that had
something of tragedy in it, "the Father of us all will not
permit Abraham Lincoln to go until he has done his workl"

  Mary set down the teapot to wring her hands. "But that's
not enoughI" she cried. "Not enough for mel He plans now
to go up to Antietam to see McClellan. If there is
disaffection in the army toward Mr. Lincoln because of this
proclamation, what can save him7 I have pleaded and
pleaded with him. But he is obdurate. The only compromise
I could effect was to get him to promise to take Taddie with
him. I believe that if his son is in his charge, he at least
won't go into avoidable danger."

BRADY 205

  The Senator nodded, then asked anxiously, "You've not
been able to influence him with regard to the General7"

  "No, he really loves McClellan. I think he looks up to him
as the sort of polished gentleman he'd like to be. And that,
unconsciously, blinds him. Once he gets past the infatuation,
he'll be ruthless."

Still anxiously, Sumner asked, "And you think he'll reach that
point7"

  Mary again picked up the teapot. She poured a cup and
gave it to the Senator before she said, "Only if he is convinced
that McClellan is disloyal to the military cause."

  "But the fellow is more than disloyal," groaned Sumner.
"He's incompetent as a general, and without sentiment for
liberty. And, mark me, he's going to do more to block the
workings of the proclamation than all other influences
combined."

  Mary said with sudden intuition, "I wonder where Miss Ford
is. If only we could persuade her to come over to our sidel
They've lost all track of her, but they are convinced she never
sailed for England. If once I could talk with her, I know I
could shame her."

  "I think," Sumner scowled, thoughtfully, "that there's more
danger of the President being shot by her than by any one
else, all things considered."

"Oh, don't say thatl" cried Mary. "I shan't sleep a wink
to-night!"

  "Why not, wife7" asked the President, coming into the room
and shaking hands with Sumner.

  "I never have got over that shooting scene, at the Soldiers'
Home, Mr. Lincoln." Mary tried to smile as she looked up
into his careworn face.

  He patted her shoulder. "Perhaps they'll get to feel as I do
about these fellows who get into trouble in the ammy. A man
woke me up last night. His son was going to be shot at
daylight for deserting. He wanted me to do something about
it. I decided that shooting wouldn't do the boy any good, so
I gave him a reprieve."

  "I want you to have more than a reprieve." Mary's voice
caught, childishly.

  "And so I shall have, my dearl You'll laugh at all this, some
day when we're sight-seeing in the Holy Land. I want to see
Jacob's well, and Rachel's tomb. Well, Charles, what's the
news of interventions" seating himself on the couch and
rubbing his head, which ached.

  "It looks very bad, Mr. Lincoln. We can only wait patiently
for the response to the proclamation."

  The President took his cup of tea, unseeingly, and held it
balanced in his great palm, while he eyed Sumner keenly.
More and more did he appreciate the Senator's sagacity,
where the English government was concemed.

"You believe that she will intervene, Charles7"

  "England's pemmitting the Rebels to build ships in her
shipyards with which to fight us," replied Sumner, slowly. "I
assume, that unless the proclamation works a miracle, the
cooperation between the so-called Confed

- -    zo6 FOREVER FREE

eracy and England will become an alliance. England will acknowledge
the slave empire, and thus aid and abet the entrance of this
monstrosity into the family of nations."

 "The trouble with you is, Charles," protested Lincoln, "that you write
only to the upper classes over there. The plain people are sound, in
England, as they all are everywhere else. They'll prevent the
government from acting either the fool or the villain."

"But it's not the plain people that govern England," exclaimed Mary.

 "In the long run they do," Lincoln declared. "We'll hear from them
on the proclamation. You'll see."

 "I haven't told you of my intense joy in that document, sir," said the
Senator. "I waited for it an eternity."

 Lincoln nodded. "Of course, issuing the proclamation is only the be-
ginning of the fight. I've got to have the solid backing of the North or
the thing is only the Pope's Bull against the comet. If the army will
back me, I can almost discount the inevitable increase of Democratic
votes this November. If England will hold her hand until the true
inwardness of it gets home to every one well, I'll begin to sleep
nights again."

 "The army will back you if you can loose McClellan's strangle-hold
on the country's freedom of thought," said Sumner. "I suppose the
Cabinet is backing you, though Chase told of an ill-timed jest that
Seward made, at the moment Lee was in Frederick. He said to Chase
that some one had proposed that Lincoln halt the proposed invasions
of Pennsylvania by Lee by a proclamation freeing all the apprentices
of the State. If that is to be Seward's attitude, the New York
Republicans aren't going to be of much service to us."

 Lincoln set down the untasted cup of tea, and ran his hands through
his hair. He, too, was very uncertain of Seward on this point, but he
could see no use in admitting it.

 "The Cabinet, at the last scratch, stood behind me splendidly," he
said. "I couldn't be sure of counting on Antietam as a victory till
Saturday, the zoth. It was too late for a Cabinet meeting, then, so
Sunday I fixed it up a little, and Monday I let them have it. Is Lord
Lyons still abroad, Charles?"

"I believe so, sir."

 "I must try him again. He's a hard nut to crack. We must not allow
the newspapers to foster this idea of fighting England, Charles. One
war at a time, say II" He rose abruptly. "I'll be getting back to my
shop. Here's John Hay to take my place. He's in fine whack."

 John came in, languidly, but very elegant in a green suit and puce-
colored waistcoat.

 "I wish I could continue in as fine whack as the Tycoon does," he
exclaimed in an exhausted voice, as the President disappeared. "He's
running everything now, except McClellan. I never knew with what
tyrannous authority he rules the Cabinet till I saw him put the
proclamation

BRADY Zo7

through." Then, as he took his tea from Mary, he said with
sudden earnestness, "There's no man in the country so wise,
so gentle, and so firm."

"Amen to thatl" ejaculated Charles Sumner.

 But the President, preparing for his trip to Antietam, was
feeling anything but wise. The outcome of the battle of
Antietam; McClellan's failure to follow up his advantage, had
shaken him in his often expressed conviction that McClellan
was no coward. For, he told himself, either it was cowardice
that prevented the general from following and destroying
Lee's stricken little army, or it was something so wicked that,
for the momeet, his mind refused to contemplate it.

 If, he told himself, as he watched Mary packing up his great
black valise, this trip convinced him that McClellan was not
a coward, then he could have one more chance. Let him back
the proclamation, openly and heartily, and he'd retain faith in
him. But this, he promised himself, would be the final test.

 The party that started for the battlefield was a mixed one.
Lincoln was rather appalled when he saw the Chairman of the
Committee on the Conduct of the War enter his car, just
before the train started. It gave the trip an air of an official
investigation. He did not wish McClellan to feel that he was
being tried by a jury. He had planned to make only a
personal and friendly visit. He decided to insist that the
others, Senators and Representatives, fish their own pool, and
leave his alone.

 Tad was in great fettle. He had been forced by his mother
to wear a blue velvet suit, with a wide, white, silk collar, and
knit silk stockings of red and black in circular stripes. But by
fussing persistently over the loathsome grandeur of his
clothes, he had worn her down to permitting him to go
"armed." He wore a bowie knife strapped round his waist
under his coat, and an army pistol, as yet unloaded, was
tucked under his arm, this last conceded because his mother
banked on his unfailing facility for losing anything not
buttoned or tied to him.

 Sure enough, he left the pistol on the seat when his father
got out of the train to take a look at Harper's Ferry, and
George Nicolay, following, dropped it behind the water
cooler.

 Holding fast to Taddie's hand, Lincoln stood staring at the
spot from which, a fortnight before, Stonewall Jackson had
taken 1z,ooo Union soldiers. The tiny hamlet lay with such
apparent unimportance in this beautiful gorge of the Blue
Ridge mountains, where the Shenandoah and the Potomac
meetl The loveliness of the place depressed him. He was
superstitious about Harper's Ferry.

 "I suppose it'll have to be captured three times," he said to
Taddie, "before we'll be able to keep it."

"Are they any enemies hea' now?" demanded Tad.

 "None except the place itself, Taddie," replied his father.
"Come, Nicolay, let's get on toward Sharpsburg. How much
farther is it7"

 "Eighteen miles," replied the secretary. "Hill's Rebel division
marched from here in seven hours."

208 FOREVER FREE

 "That's rightl" exclaimed Lincoln. "He arrived at Antietam
late in the afternoon, just in time to stop the Federal
advance on the left. Those Rebels can march McClellan to
deathl Jingsl Wearing our uniforms, our shoes, shooting our
very guns, from this very arsenal, they galloped up there and
made a snout at young Napoleon."

 Nicolay grunted. "Young Napoleon never recognised it as
such, sir, I'll wager."

"I don't suppose he did," agreed Lincoln, turning back to the
train.

 The major part of the short run to the little town of
Sharpsburg was consumed by the search for Taddie's
revolver. His father took part in it with great gusto, pressing
the dignified Senator Blair into service as a detective, and
insisting that each passenger in the private car lay out his
"arsenal" for the little boy's anxious inspection. But Nicolay,
who had learned, by some nineteen months of experience,
Tad's remarkable ability for getting into trouble, kept his
secret, and a large portion of the train boy's stock of oranges
and lemon drops was able finally to reconcile the little fellow
to the loss of half of his equipment!

 Sharpsburg lay in a lovely valley between the Potomac to
the west, and a spur of the Blue Ridge to the east. To the
east of the village was Antietam Creek, a beautiful stream,
running north and south through the valley. It was in this
valley of meadows and woodlands that McClellan's great
army lay recuperating.

 There was a carriage at the railroad station, with a smart
guard of cavalry to meet the President, and he was driven at
once in a wild whirl of dust and a great uproar of trotting
horsemen over the rough country roads to McClellan's
headquarters.

 The camp, as was usual with McClellan, was in the best
possible position for the soldiers' comfort, and in the best
possible order. The general and his staff welcomed Lincoln
with all the dignity and formality that the occasion
demanded. Formalities, as Lincoln confided to Tad, take a
great deal of time and patience. It was late in the afternoon
before Lincoln and McClellan finally sat down before the
latter's tent, free to rest and to talk. Tad had long since
disappeared with a pink-checked young corporal, a Harvard
friend of Bob's.

 McClellan was in an urbane mood, the mood of a man
convinced that, for a second time, he had saved the nation.
Lincoln was in no hurry to ruffle that mood. His visit was to
be of several days' duration. There had been, he felt, too
much tension in the relationship between himself and the
young general. For once, he hoped, the contact could have
some reality of casualness. So he sat in his camp chair,
clasping his left knee, his eyes lifting from the map which lay
on the table before him, to the valley, all shimmering gold
in the October sun. The battle of Antietam was being
explained to him.

 "It was the extreme simplicity of my strategy which made
the fighting so effective," said McClellan. "Lee held
Sharpsburg, about the middle of the map, with the creek
before him."

BRADY cog

 "And a good deal of high ground and woods with him, too,"
interjected Lincoln, his eyes sweeping up and down the
meandering stream that paralleled the camp. "While you folks
were down in the bottoms and sloughs Lee had the advantage
of position."

"Yes," nodded McClellan, "but it availed him little."

 "Your vast superiority of numbers took care of that,"
commented the President. "Well, get on with it, George,
before it's too dusky for me to see the map. Your lines faced
each other across the creek parallel for about three miles,
eh?"

 "Roughly, yes," replied McClellan. "But you are mistaken in
regard to the Rebels' inferiority in numbers. They had at
least 1oo,ooo men. We were both in position late on the
afternoon of the 16th. There was some heavy skirmishing on
our right before dark that day, but the actual battle opened
at dawn the next morning. There was no ground for
maneuvering. My plan simply was this: My right wing was to
move forward first. When the battle was well engaged, my left
wing was to move across the bridge, you can't see it from
here, but it's indicated at the south end of the map,  and
thrust back Lee's right until it had retreated through
Sharpsburg. And, still speaking the layman's tongue, that's
about what happened."

 These broad details were, of course, perfectly familiar to
Lincoln, who had spent agonized hours on the 17th,
transferring the information in telegrams from the front, to
his war map. He concealed his impatience.

 "Burnside was to move your west wing across the bridge.
He never got started until one o'clock. That gave Lee a
chance to concentrate on you fellows up at the right. What
was the trouble there, George7"

 "Pardon me, sir. My order to move reached Burnside at ten
o'clock in the morning. He sent Cox to take the bridge, at
once, but it was not until we'd spent three hours and five
hundred men that we took it. Then I ordered Burnside on up
the hill behind the bridge to crowd the Rebels back and take
Sharpsburg. He got as far as the Dunker church on the edge
of the village when the Rebel, Hill, came up from Harper's
Ferry and checked him."

"In the meantime," asked Lincoln, "what was happening in the
center7"

  "We were gaining ground," replied McClellan, complacently.
"All along the line we gained. Nightfall found us here,"
pointing to the map. "The invasion of the North was ended."

  "I seer" murmured Lincoln. "But " Then he closed his lips
firmly. He simply could not talk about that ghastly, that
useless slaughter of men, that fruitless heroic endeavor of the
magnificent army, without saying something that would
irritate McClellan.

  He was deeply relieved when a short, thin man with a
pointed beard, wearing a dusty, much stained linen duster
appeared, hesitating, a short distance from the tent.

"That fellow has a familiar facet" exclaimed Lincoln.

"Yes, that's Brady, the war photographer, a remarkable man,"
replied

zoo FOREVER FREE

McClellan. "You've heard about what he's done7 This will
be the first war in history ever photographed."

  "So that's Brady7" exclaimed Lincoln, rising. "I got Allan
Pinkerton to give him the protection of the Secret Service,
a year ago. Come over here, friend Bradyl"

  The little Irishman hurried forward, carefully set down a
black case he was carrying, and shook hands with Lincoln.

  "Welll Welll You're the wild fellow from Cork who almost
got captured at the first Bull Run, and that Pinkerton's been
wet-nursing on a dozen battlefields, sincel" cried Lincoln.
"Come, open up shop and show us your waresl"

  "Just what I wished to be doing, Your ExcellencyI" grinned
Brady. "With the general's permission, of coursel"

  "You know you're as popular with me as with my men,
Brady," said McClellan. "We're proud to see the record you
make of us. Get yourself a camp stool."

  Brady obeyed with alacrity, lifted the case to the table,
opened it and sat down. It was filled with photographs, from
among which he drew an eight by ten plate.

  "I thought Your Excellency would like to have my problem
explained in a general way. My outfit consists of a butcher's
wagon, with my living conveniences in the forward end, and
a dark room, where no ray of light can enter, in the
opposite end. Photographs are taken on glass plates, like
this, which have been coated in the dark room with
collodion. In it are dissolved bromide and iodide of
potassium. Now, it's impossible to take pictures on these
plates unless they've been freshly coated, within five minutes
of the time the photograph is taken. The least breath of air
or touch of heat or cold, or speck of dust on the plate while
it's wet with collodion will spoil the picture. Perhaps this
tells Your Excellency some of my difficulties in
photographing a battle."

  "Jingsl I reckon it doesl" exclaimed the President, keenly
interested. "Let's see the plate," squinting at it, against the
sky. "What's it of7"

  "That's the beginning of the attack on the bridge,
Burnside's bridge, the soldiers are calling it. Here's the print
from that negative."

  Lincoln put on his spectacles and gazed at the exquisite
reproduction. A fine stone bridge of arches over a placid
stream. A background of wooded heights. On the bridge a
mass of soldiers, half hidden by smoke. In the foreground a
dead soldier in profile, hugging his gun, his face upturned to
the sky. For a long time the President stared at it.

"Five hundred like that boy," he said, at last, turning to
McClellan.

  The general's eyes filled with tears. "Don't ask me to look
at it, sir. It wrings my heart."

  "I knowl You do love the men, as they love you," returned
Lincoln, gently, his impatience wiped away as by magic. "Do
something else if you want to, while Brady has his little
show."

BRADY 2 11

 McClellan rose. "Thank you, sir," he said, gratefully. "I've a
letter to write. There's just time before supper." He strode
into his tent.

 "He's too tender-hearted for the killing business," said
Brady, offering the President another photograph. "It
accounts for a lot about him. When he rode over the
battlefield on the 18th I saw him crying his heart out."

 "Did your" Lincoln spoke thoughtfully, and a sudden feeling
of gratitude rose in him toward the little Irishman. Perhaps
this did, indeed, explain away some of his uneasiness
regarding the general.

"What's this7" he asked, after a moment.

 "The Dunker church to the east of Sharpsburg. The
Federals were driven back from there by Hill's men. Seems
like a seventeen or eighteen mile walk just whetted the
Rebels' appetite for fighting. Of those two men Iying in the
foreground, one is a Rebel, the other a Federal. You see, sir,
the battle began up here," showing another picture. A rail
fence with a row of bodies Iying beside it, -
"Federals Hooker's men. He flung the first bunch there.
When he was used up, Meade and Mansfield brought their
men. There was nothing to it but sheer, persistent slaughter.
At least, that's how it looked to a picture man. Why the civil
didn't all the Federal line start fighting at once, instead of
leaving Lee to run his men up and down the line where they
were most needed7 Looked to an ignorant picture man like
there was no plan of concerted action."

"Let's see the next picture, Brady," said Lincoln.

  "Well, here's a fine, convincing view of what happened in
the center. This is a sunken road. The boys have named it
Bloody Lane."

  He gave the President the picture of a wide ditch filled with
bodies in every contortion of agony, a gray, hideous mass.
Lincoln could feel himself turning pale. But he stared steadily
at the horror. If the "boys" could go into it, into this hell to
which he'd sent them, he, at least, could gaze unflinching on
the "counterfeit presentment." The little photographer gave
him a keen glance and continued:

  "You see, the Rebels had taken all the fight out of our men
up at the right. And they were giving Burnside's boys more,
entirely, than they could handle easily, on the left. But, in the
middle, there were some Irish mixed among the other
Federals, and the Rebels were getting what-for. They
entrenched themselves in this sunken road. Our men got to
the heights to right and left, and poured an enfilading fire
into it. And there lie the Rebels, poor boys. Yes, sir, there
they do lies" nodding his shaggy head.

  Lincoln dropped the picture and stared off where, a black
gash in the sunset glow on a distant field, lay the sunken
road which McClellan previously had pointed out to him.

  Brady pulled forth another photograph, saying, as if to
himself, "Corps after corps, division after division into the red
whirlpool of hell. Sure, sir," looking up, "one wouldn't grudge
it to the civil who runs wars if the result was worth it. We
could have pushed those fellows into the Potomac if "

212 FOREVER FREE

 "Show me the picture in your hand, Brady, then I must go
find Tad for his supper."

 "Well, you've seen enough carnage. There's only one dead
boy in this. It shows you a fine old plantation house the
Rebels were burning as our boys came up."

 Magnolias, with a two-galleried house in flames behind
them. Sitting upright against one of the trunks a dead
Federal cavalryman, staring straight out of the picture, his
horse, four legs turned in the air, beside him Lincoln caught
his breath. The sweat started to his forehead.

 "I know that man, Bradyl His name is Gordon. He's
wanted by the detective police!"

"Is it so?" asked the photographer.

 "But I reckon the God of Eternal Justice wanted him
more," said Lincoln. "Leave me this picture, Brady. No,
don't leave it. Send it to Baker in Washington." He
continued to hold the photograph in his hand, where the red
sunset lighted it. Thoughts too deep for words surged
through his mind. He returned the gaze of the dead eyes
until they dimmed in the October dusk. Then he murmured:
"Hail and farewell to 'Obscene' Gordon," and rose,
repeating, "I must find Taddie."

 For a great solitude had settled on his heart and he felt
the need of his child's love and companionship.

              CHAPTER XXVIII
               TAD S KITTEN

EORGE NICOLAY accompanied Lincoln in his search for
Tad. As the two walked along the neat Company streets of
the camp, ~ the President said, "George, I want to know
this: Does McClellan, in his desire to save his men, actually
accomplish the reverser I'm scared to think of how many
men he might now have alive in this camp, if he hadn't held
them back when they should have been in. Or am I getting
tripped on McClellan's weaknesses7"

 "It's a difficult matter to work out, sir," replied Nicolay,
chewing savagely on his cigar. "His men think he's infallible.
Yet it's a fact that Lee out-generals him, right along. Superb
fighters, those Southern leaders."

Lincoln nodded. "Quick on their feet. We have the slows."

  "The men do feel that they could have shoved Lee's army
into the Potomac if they'd been allowed to follow, next day,"
Nicolay went on. "They say they weren't as tired as Lee's
men. Hadn't been worked so hard."

  "There's Corporal DickI" exclaimed the President. "Well,
young man, where's my son?" pausing in the light of a camp
fire.

  "He started back for you, half an hour ago, Mr. Presidentl"
replied the soldier, his eyes a little perturbed.

  "Huml Like looking for a flea on a curly-haired dogl"
Lincoln rubbed his chin. "I reckon the best thing to do is to
go back and wait for him."

  But supper in the officers' mess tent was over, and the
President was growing more and more uneasy, before the
corporal came up a little breathlessly and saluted.

  "I've located him, Mr. President. But he won't budge. He
sits down by the bridge, crying. He says he wants you."

  McClellan, Hooker, Burnside, sitting around the camp fire
that flared outside the President's tent, looked up with
amused smiles as Lincoln jumped to his feet.

  "Wants his mother, I reckonl Corporal, you just lead me
over there and see what I can do."

  He strode, bareheaded, past half a hundred camp fires,
moving so rapidly that he was gone before the soldiers could
more than begin to cheer him. In the starlight, crouching
against the stone parapet of the bridge, was Tad's little
figure. The corporal fell back as soon as he had pointed the
child out to Lincoln.

  "Did you get homesick, all of a sudden, darling Taddie7"
asked the President, stooping to pick up the boy.

"Don't touch me, Papa day," said the little boy in a voice
hoarse from

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long sobbing. "I'm unda' my own a'west. I sent fo' you to tell
you I have to stay hea' all night."

 Lincoln sat down on the wall, his solitude yielding at once
to the delight Tad's caprices always gave him.

"What bad thing have you done, Taddie7" he asked,
solemnly.

"I I killed something I loved," suddenly beginning to cry
again.

 "Hush! Don't cry, or that'll make me cry, and everybody
would say the President is a coward. Tell me all about it."

 "The co'potal gave me a little weeny, white kitten. It sang
in my neck. I was taking it up to show you. Then I stopped
hea' to play with it. It played so cunning, Papa day!
Then then I played it was Jeff Davis and I was an Indian
chief and I tied it to a stake and th'ew my bowie knife at it,
like the juggle did, last winte'. I didn't want to hu't it. I
wouldn't have fo' anything. But the di'ty skunk of a knife
slipped and went into the kitten's little soft belly and all its
insidings came out and it mewed and mewed and I couldn't
stop it o' help it and it died. I knew you wouldn't punish me
so I'm doing it myself."

 Lincoln cleared his throat. "Where is the poor little kitten,
darling Taddie7"

 A little finger pointed in the starlight to a white spot
against the grey wall.

 "Let's make the wicked bowie knife dig a grave for the
kitten. Then let's bury the knife in the same grave,"
suggested the President.

 "No, we'll fling it in the c'eek. It can't lie beside the
kitten," cried Taddie.

"Very welll I'll help you dig," agreed Lincoln.

 The bowie knife did a neat job, and a few moments later
was cast by Taddie, violently, from the bridge into the
glimmering black water.

 "Now," said his father, gravely, "I'll send the corporal back
for my hat, for I promised your mother you'd sleep with me,
and I'll have to camp right here, I reckon."

 "Motha' wouldn't let you do that," exclaimed Tad.
"Pe'haps, seeing it was mostly the bowie knife's fault, I can
pa'ole myself to you' tent. And maybe you'd bette' caway
me, I'm so sleepy."

"I reckon I had," agreed Lincoln.

  He lifted the soft little body across his breast, and the
horror of the hour with Brady lessened, as he carried Tad
back past the cheering camp fires to his tent.

  He gave the days that followed to a personal investigation
of the equipment which McClellan declared was inadequate,
was preventing him from following Lee. It struck him as very
curious that there was no discussion before him, by
McClellan's ofEicers, of the emancipation proclamation. He
concluded that they were acting under orders from
McClellan, and was willing to wait for the general to make
the first move.

  He mixed freely with the soldiers, joining them about their
camp fires or sitting among them as they cleaned their
accouterments, groomed

TAD'S KITTEN '15

their horses, or peeled potatoes for the perpetual stews. At
first, they bothered him by cheering him every time he
arrived among them, but as soon as they discovered that this
was not what he wanted, they took him casually, and talked
freely before him.

 A great many of them were outspoken in their praise of the
proclamation. Some of them shook their heads over it. The
vast majority said, quite frankly, that they were waiting to
learn what Little Mac thought of it. This depressed him more
than he cared to admit, even to himself.

 The day before he started back to Washington, McClellan
held a grand review for him. There was considerable
speculation, Nicolay told him, among the soldiers as to
whether or not Old Abe could stick on a horse. And there
was obvious interest, among officers well as men, when a big
black gelding, prancing and struggling to rear, was led up to
the President's tent. Lincoln, laughing to himself, as he
thought of his boyhood hours in the saddle, and of the miles
he'd traveled on any sort of nag when, as a country lawyer,
he'd "ridden the circuit," took the reins with an expressionless
face.

 Nicolay wrote Mary about it, that evening. "The officers,
and even some of the men, have been a little patronising to
the President up here, taking their cue from the obvious
source. It has made me furious. He hasn't seemed to observe
it, but I'm sure it cut. You will be glad to learn that he made
them smile out of the other side of their mouths, today. The
moment he vaulted into the saddle, he obviously was at
home. It was a very large horse and he looked splendid, not
an awkward line.

 "I had a feeling that McClellan was not above making an
endurance test of this. He came dashing up with his
magnificent looking staff. Mr. Lincoln joined them at a
gallop. The band struck up 'Hail to the Chief,' the artillery
began to thunder, his horse walked on its hind legs. The
President held his tall hat in one hand and received the
salute, absolutely unperturbed. It was grand! Afterward came
a long dash over very rough ground with ditches and fences
to leap. The dear old Tycoon kept right up with McClellan.
The soldiers missed none of the significance of it and when,
a little later, he rode down the lines, the cheers almost rent
the sky.... What a maul"

 No one had enjoyed the review quite as much as the
President. When he sat in McClellan's tent, that evening,
with Burnside and Nicolay, he kept bursting into chuckles.
McClellan scowled a little, but made no comment until
Burnside and Nicolay left, then he asked Lincoln what in the
situation amused him.

 Lincoln shook his head. He had avoided, thus far, every
topic that he thought could irritate McClellan. He had no
intention of telling the General he was chuckling because it
was McClellan himself who had changed the army's attitude
of patronage to admiration. Instead, he paid a compliment.

"I must congratulate you, George, on the morale of your
army. It's

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superb. I don't see how, with the men feeling as they do,
anything can stop you now."

 "Lack of shoes, for one thing," replied McClellan quickly.
"I can't march my men barefoot."

 "Lee marches his that way, unless he can shoe them from
the enemy's stockl" exclaimed Lincoln. "Come, George, let's
not start that old argument againl Quartermaster General
Meigs has sent me a full report of the supplies you've had
up here. Your men say, themselves, they have everything
they want."

 "The men's judgment is final, of course," sneered
McClellan. "Am I or am I not supposed to be the best judge
of what the army needs7"

 The old irritation overthrew all the President's resolves.
He shoved aside the candle which stood on the table
between them. "McClellan," he cried, "when are you going to
start?"

"When my army is rested and equipped," replied the general,
coolly.

 Lincoln tossed his head impatiently. "McClellan, why don't
you start to-morrow?"

McClellan did not reply.

 The President breathed heavily for a moment, then the
"granite look" appeared in his grey eyes.

 "Brady was showing me more of his pictures yesterday. He
has one set he calls, 'McClellan at the Front.' They're
photographs of your different headquarters and of you,
during your several battles. George, yours and Brady's ideas
of where the Front is don't agree with mine. At your first
Peninsula fight at Williamsburg, while Hooker and Kearny
and Hancock were out with their men, under fire, you were
on the wharf at Yorktown, doing assistant quartermaster's
duty. At the battle of Fair Oaks, you were across the river
from the fight, and the same at Beaver Dam Creek and
Gaines' Mill. Wait a momentl You must hear me out,
George, for this thought will poison my affection for you
unless you clear it up."

 McClellan, who had risen to leave the tent, halted, held by
the command in Lincoln's voice. The President went on:

 "During the retreat to the James, you were far ahead,
locating the spots where Franklin and the rest were to fight
their daily battle. At Malvern Hill, a sight that Halleck says
a man with true soldier blood would have given his life to
see, you were in your camp at Haxall's or down on the river,
arranging for the retreat. And here at Antietam, when the
sight of you, particularly at your left wing, would have put
life into the movements of your men, you were back on the
high ground near Pry's house, watching through spy glasses."

 Lincoln had risen too. He was trembling with his
determination somehow to win into McClellan's soul.

 "George, this is an insulting imputation! It is not mine. It
is that of the plain people who are carrying this war on their
backs. One single move, and you will wipe that imputation
from your fame, forever. Get on your

TAD'S KITTEN zip

horse, lead these boys after Lee, and, when you have found
him, show them how to hurt himl"

"Have you finished7" asked McClellan, white to the lips.

 "Not quite," replied Lincoln in a voice strident with anger.
"I want to add that unless you indicate to me, very shortly,
that you are starting at once after the enemy, I shall remove
you permanently from the army."

 Suddenly McClellan laughed. "Your Remove mel You'll
have to move more rapidly than your wont, Lincolnl Comel
Let's not part in angerl I don't believe you realize the
insulting nature of half you've been saying!"

 The two men exchanged a long look, then Lincoln, turning
on his heel with an abrupt "Good night," left the tent.

               CHAPTER XXIX
               FERNANDO WOOD

TINCOLN returned to Washington, tanned of skin and clear of
eye. It was nearing midnight when he strode into his wife's
room, car~ tying Taddie. He deposited the sleeping child
on the bed, and gathered Mary into his arms, kissing her
several times. Then he held her from him and looked her
over, approvingly. She was wearing a mantleshaped boudoir
gown of white, trimmed with rows of black beads. Her hair
hung in a soft braid over either shoulder.

 "Somehow, this is pleasanter than McClellan's tentl" he
exclaimed. "Jingsl I'm glad to have you again! What's the
news here? Has Sumner heard from England on the
proclamation?"

 Mary led him to a chair and pushed him gently into it.
Then she placed a bootJack at his feet.

 "No business to-night, Abra'm. Take off those riding boots,
while I fetch your slippers."

 Lincoln sighed with relief as one boot after the other
landed with a thud half way across the room.

 "That's hrst rater" he added as Mary pulled a carpet
slipper over each grey wool sock. "Reckon I've been spoiled
by you too long, wife, to make a contented soldier."

 "How did Taddie behave?" asked Mary, as he put out a
great hand to draw her toward him.

"Like an angel," replied his father, promptly.

 "Tell me some of the things you both did," perching on the
arm of his chair, and leaning against him.

 "Well, let's seel The kitten episode was his best
achievement, I reckon. I was looking at Brady's photographs.
You must see those, Mary. They're wonderful." He described
the pictures to her, then told her of Tad and the white
kitten.

"The blessed lamb!" murmured Mary.

 Lincoln nodded. "I can't explain why the incident meant so
much to me. You see, actually being on the battlefield,
observing the devastation, seeing Brady's pictures it
smelled so of death death of my making, Mary." He paused
and Mary felt his body quiver with a suppressed sob.

She kissed him. "I know, Abra'm! I knowl"

 He sat fighting for self-control. He had come back
determined that only ruthless decisiveness should govern him
until the proclamation was an accepted fact in the country.
This, he told himself, was a poor beginning. He cleared his
throat and managed to say, casually:

FERNANDO WOOD 219

  "By the way, one of Brady's photographs showed me
'Obscene' Gordon, as a dead cavalryman."

  Mary jumped from her place and stared at him
incredulously. Then she laughed, clapped her hands, sobbed
and threw herself against him, caressing him wildly. He held
her until she was serene again.

  "I know," she said, at last, "that it's wicked to feel so about
the death of any human being. But half my anxiety about you
is lifted. I must tell Mr. and Mrs. Welles, to-morrow, the first
thing."

  Y ought to go over to the telegraph office and see what
Buell is doing in Kentucky." The President looked at his
watch. "Folks out West are getting to feel about Buell as the
folks here do about McClellan. They both have the slows,
that's a fact. I'm going to remove Buell if he doesn't show
more desire to pursue the enemy than he has up to date. I
won't be gone long," taking up the little grey shawl and the
high hat.

  Mary followed him to the door. "Now that I know Gordon
isn't hiding in a corridor I can let you go. I wonder if Miss
Ford knows of his death."

  "Lizzie Keckley's friend, Anna, wasn't it, who went as lady's
maid,  reports nothing, I supposed"

  "She can neither read nor write," replied Mary and closing
the door after her husband, she fumed to attend to the
sleeping boy.

  As a matter of fact, Gordon's fate was of little moment to
Miss Ford. She was engrossed in the work that was
engrossing every Southem slaveholder, that of organising
the final fight against emancipation. There had been some
thought of sending her to England to see what she could do
to hasten the moment of intervention. But the crisis
precipitated by the issuing of the proclamation had caused
Davis to abandon the idea.

  On an evening, shortly before the fall elections took place,
several gentlemen met in the parlor of the little house she
was occupying on Bleecker Street in New York City. Her
disguise was extremely clever. Nothing, of course, could
conceal her great height. But she had dyed her hair black,
and wore it wrapped in severe bands about her head. She had
stained her blond skin to a decided olive tint. She wore,
instead of her perpetual green, mourning of a pronounced
type.

  Captain Taylor, dressed as a policeman, gained admission
to the house a few minutes earlier than the other visitors, by
seeming to force the lock on the door. The Virginian bolted
it after him, and led the way into the rear room where a coal
fire burned cheerfully.

  "I reckon that's the approved way for a policeman to enter
a house of ill famel" said Taylor. "Unfortunately, the street is
so dark that no one observed my histrionics!"

  "Don't be too sure, Toml" exclaimed Miss Ford. "I may be
more closely watched than we suspect."

  "Did you have trouble getting this place?" asked Taylor,
wamming his back before the fire.

  "Nonel Mayor Wood had the place raided, one day, and the
next day Anna and I moved in."

220 FOREVER FREE

'Where's Uncle Bob7" asked the Captain.

 "He ran away before we left Washington, the devilish old
fooll" She spoke with acid bitterness.

 Taylor shook his head in sympathy. "Mother writes that not
one of ours is left. When news of the proclamation came
even Mammy Sophie legged it off to the Union lines. Lady,
I wouldn't know you in that make-up if I saw you in your
own home. I loathe your disguise, and I loathe the type
and character you are simulating."

 The Virginian shrugged her shoulders and said, "There is
some one, nowl" rising as voices were heard in the hall, and
a man wearing an evening cloak of black broadcloth entered.
It was Fernando Wood, Mayor of New York.

 The three greeted one another as old friends, and settled
before the fire. "Seymour will be along later," said Mayor
Wood. He was a goodlooking man of middle age, with thick
dark hair, fine grey eyes and humorous mouth. He was
smooth shaven, and wore a high stock of black satin which
added to his look of distinction. "He's very busy and if he
doesn't get here, is willing for me to represent him. I
prophesy a glorious victory at the polls, on Tuesday. Even
Illinois will take a few bites from Abraham's hide. And
Governor Seymour has New York State in his pocket."

 "You have the emancipation proclamation to thank for all
that," said Miss Ford.

 "Exactly," agreed Wood. "It is also to be thanked for the
fact that enlistments for the past two weeks have been
practically nil. Lincoln will have to try the draft, next. Then
there'll be revolution in the North."

 "Are these your ideas or Mr. Seymour's, Mayor Wood7"
asked Captain Taylor.

 Wood laughed. "Seymour never had as mild a thought as
that about Lincolnl He says that the preservation of the
Union comes first with him, but I believe he'd turn
Secessionist if thereby he could harm the Administration.
He'd be better off if he'd calmly admit his sympathy with the
Secessionists."

 "You don't admit that, as I understand you, Mayor Wood,"
said Miss Ford, smiling, "except in certain select circles""

 "One has to be careful," admitted Wood. "But I shall never
be as discreet as McClellan. I had to declare flat-footed that
emancipation was a bitter wrong to the soldiers who were
fighting only to save the Union. McClellan issued a
statement last week in which he never mentioned the
proclamation, or said a word against it. Yet he gave the
soldiers as clearly to understand that he disapproved of it as
though he'd denounced it in so many words. But, by his
subtlety, he's got Old Abe all calmed down, they tell me."

 "Don't be so sure of thatl" exclaimed Miss Ford. "He's a
keen man, Abraham Lincoln. Where the weakness of the
plans made by Davis and

FERNANDO WOOD 2Z1

your group, Mr. Mayor, lies, is that you still refuse to
recognize him as being more astute than any of you."

 "Let's get on with the evening's business," urged Taylor,
impatiently. He sat with his elbows on his knees, pulling at
his handkerchief.

 "Lincoln is our business, more than anything else," retorted
the Virginian. "Davis insists that my main task is to keep
Lincoln's character always before all of you. But you insist on
treating Lincoln as a Simple Susan. Davis is worse than you
are, Tom, and Seymour is a hopeless fanatic in his hatred of
the President."

 Taylor sat up with a jerk. He had aged ten years in the last
ten months. His nerves were uncertain.

"If I'm not to get Wood's report, I might as well go on out to
Ohio."

 "My report is easy to give, Captain. I have the letter from
McClellan," said the Mayor.

"Where is it?" asked Taylor, quickly.

 "In a safe place. You shall have it the moment you produce
one from Davis, making me Secretary of State in McClellan's
Cabinet." Wood's good-looking face was as serene as Captain
Taylor's was agitated.

 "I have that, also, in a safe place," said the Captain. 'Rabat
does McClellan say in the letters"

 "Just what your crowd asked for. That he accepts the
Democratic nomination for President, that he will carry on
the war in a manner to conciliate the South, that he will
leave slavery alone."

 "Finer" ejaculated Taylor. "What is the state of affairs
between him and Lincoln?"

 "Oh, quite as usual," smiled Wood. "Abe pleading with him
tearfully to destroy Lee before he can get back to Richmond,
and McClellan moving the Army of the Potomac as though
he had on hand 1oo,ooo invalids, pausing ever and anon to
ask for reenforcements or supplies. He was pleading for
horses when I was there. And Jeb Stuart rode completely
round his campl I have my hat off to you Southerners."

 "Lincoln's patience is not inexhaustible," said Miss Ford,
"and McClellan's ego makes him indiscreet. What do we do
if Lincoln actually removes McClellan7"

 "He'll never do thatl" protested the Mayor. "He's afraid of
McClellan's influence with the soldiers. He proved that when
he reinstated him, last summer."

 "How long are you counting on Lincoln's patience
enduring?" insisted the Virginian.

 "Until January 1st, when he tries to put in force the threat
which he wrote into the proclamation," replied Taylor.
"McClellan's letter will then be made public and Lincoln will
have either to dismiss him or abdicate, himself. Popular
outcry and pressure from England and France will not allow
him to throw McClellan out. So Lincoln will abdicate. I'm
told he's really only too anxious to do so."

"But if Lincoln loses patience before then7" urged Miss Ford.
"You

222 FOREVER FREE

know there's nothing more absurd than the general belief
that Lincoln is incapable of losing his temper. I've seen him
in a state of terrible indignation."

 "I can answer that question," said Wood. "If Lincoln
dismisses him, McClellan will march to Washington at the
head of his army. So three different officers, very close to
him, told me. And the moment he becomes dictator, the war
will end. What am I to do next, Captain?"

 "You are to go down to see Lincoln and discover the state
of his mind toward McClellan and toward the draft. Urge
the draft on him. Nothing can help the peace party more
right now than the draft idea." Taylor rose to go.

 At the same moment, Anna admitted two more callers.
Both were men in evening dress. Miss Ford and Mayor
Wood rose.

 "Good evening, Mr. Seymour!" exclaimed the Virginian,
"and good evening, Lord Lyons! I heard that your packet
was in."

 The two gentlemen bowed over Miss Ford's hand, and
greeted Wood and Taylor.

 "I hope that you have recovered from your ill health, my
lord," said Wood, as the group remade itself before the fire.

 "Ah! Quite so! Quite sol Thank you, Mayor Wood,"
replied the Englishman, with his usual urbanity of manner.

"And does England still plan to intervener" cried the
Virginian.

 Lyons turned on her dark eyes, keen beneath their
drooping lids, and stroked his sideburns. "I did not know, my
dear Miss Ford, that my government planned intervention."

"Gladstone intimated as much," said Seymour, quickly.

 "But Mr. Gladstone is not Her Majesty's Government,"
replied the Minister. "Her Majesty's Government have
declared their neutrality, and is doing their utmost to abide
by that declaration."

 "Except that they permit the South to build its ships in
English shipyards and " began the Virginian, smiling.

 "Come! Come! Miss Ford, you must not embarrass our
distinguished guest," protested Seymour. "I invited him here
that he might hear from Captain Taylor the latest hopes of
the Southern peace party. I beg of you, ask Lord Lyons no
more questions."

 "I deserve the reprimand, sir!" The Virginian tossed her
handsome head, however, as she spoke.

 Lord Lyons gave her a friendly smile and turned toward
Taylor. There followed a half hour during which the captain,
with considerable help from the others, gave to the British
Minister a fairly complete picture of the progress made by
the peace parties, North and South, during the Minister's
three months in England. It was a glowing report, and at its
end Taylor asked Lord Lyons if he did not think that the
strength of the movement would justify England in
intervening, should the northern proslavery, known as the
peace party, come into power under McClellan The British
Minister refused to give an opinion, yet as he rose to go, the

FERNANDO WOOD ~ ~ 3

impression that he left was that he was in sympathy with the
South, that he looked on victory for the North as impossible,
that the Administration at Washington would, after a
moment of bluster, give in if they could be convinced that
their opponents were sufficiently in earnest.

 "And yet," said Miss Ford, commenting on this impression,
after he had gone, "he was as clever as McClellan with the
proclamation. He never said a word that could be quoted."

 Seymour, pacing with dignified step up and down the little
parlor, nodded his head. "He is a clever diplomat. Now, my
friends, the moment has come, I think, when we may believe
the end is at hand. When I am elected, the tyranny of that
murderer in the White House will end, in New York State,
at leastl I have a curious feeling of elation."

 "I wonder!" murmured Miss Ford. "I wonderl I've learned
to fear Lincoln. I think, unless President Davis gives me
other orders, I'll go back to Washington, where I can watch
him. You remember, Tom, you warned me that bullets,
carefully distributed, might be the last and best remedy."

 "And I remember how horrified you were at the thought,"
returned Taylor, dryly.

"Humphl I hadn't been tortured enough, then," said the
Virginian.

 Taylor gave her a look that was tinged with deep concern,
then he turned to continue his bargaining with Fernando
Wood.

                CHAPTER XXX
          Tree BACKWOODS JUPITER

 T was the evening following the one on which Miss Ford
entertained | her distinguished guests that Miss Clara
Barton sent in her card to

 ~ Mrs. Lincoln at the White House. Mary was making an
heroic endeavor to revive the social activities of the
Executive Mansion for the winter, and was working, with
William Stoddard and John Hay, on a list of invitations for
a "reception with refreshments."

 She greeted Miss Barton cordially, then begged her to rest
before the fire for a few moments, while she and the two
secretaries completed their task.

 "Mrs. Lincoln," said Stoddard, completing the protest
begun before Miss Barton came in, "you can't pack all the
people on this list into LaFayette Square, let alone the
reception rooms of the White House."

"If I don't, Mr. Lincoln will be vilified as a snobl" cried
Mary.

  John Hay laughed. "I think the Tycoon would like that! It's
the only thing in the dictionary he hasn't been called. And
really, Madam President, this is not a public reception, as
your list would indicate. By the way, you mustn't issue
personal invitations to reporters. One invitation to each
newspaterl There's a difference."

  Madam President threw up her hands. "But, John and
Billy, Mr. Lincoln has promised invitations to half a dozen
reporters who've asked for theml"

  "It really can't be donel" declared Stoddard, wearily. "Even
the members of the Cabinet are invited only by virtue of
their office. I'll keep the reporters away from you, Mrs.
Lincoln. Better let me manage."

  "You can't keep the reporters' tongues and pens from me,
though." Mary shook her head ruefully. "However, go ahead,
Billy! They can't hate me more than they already dol" She
turned to Miss Barton, and the two young men went out.

  "You ought to let the newspapers know of your wonderful
daily work in the hospitals, Mrs. Lincoln," suggested Miss
Barton with a smile.

  Mary returned the smile. The two had become fast friends.
They talked at some length over a hospital that was being set
up in a church at Fairfax Courthouse, then Miss Barton
made known the real purpose of her call. General McClellan
was pleading for new hospital tents.

  "There is another ghastly battle pending, and while the
QuartermasterGeneral insists that McClellan already is
oversupplied with hospital tents, and is not sending any, I
have the conviction that the Army of the Potomac can't be
too well equipped in that line. I can lay hands on tents for
five thousand men if you arrange to have them put into
McClellan's

THE BACKWOODS JUPITER 225

hands, without offending the Quartermaster~eneral," said Miss
Barton. Mary pursed her lips, thoughtfully. "Secretary Stanton
certainly won't help. He's too angry with McClellan. Halleck
is angry, but he does what Mr. Lincoln tells him to do. I
suppose, with your usual astuteness, you've discovered that
and wish me to overpersuade the Presidentl"

"You can do so, can't your" smiled Miss Barton.

"Not always, by any means," replied Mary.

 The two women sat regarding each other, thoughtfully;
Miss Barton in a meager, black merino, with white collar and
cuffs, with the smallest possible crinoline, the President's wife
in a rich black silk, pleated and ruffled in a hundred pleats
and folds over a hoopskirt that dwarfed in diameter the huge
center table. Yet, in their earnestness, in the quiet fortitude
in their eyes, they were curiously alike.

 "I'II try, dear Miss Barton," said Mary, finally. "If I can't
win the concession, perhaps Taddie can. You think the tents
really will be needed7"

 Miss Barton, rising, threw up both her hands. "Can you ask
that, after all you've observed in the hospitals here7"

 Mary sighed. "I knowl And I want to help. Yet I cannot
bear to add one dust speck of weight to Mr. Lincoln's
burden."

 "We are all suffering," said Miss Barton, gently, "but none
so much as the common soldiers."

 "Don't got" urged Mary. "I'm expecting Mr. Lincoln any
moment. He's having a war council and is two hours late for
supper."

 "Thank you, Madam President, but I'm leaving to-morrow
to join the army. I learned to-day that it has finally crossed
the Potomac and is moving down the eastern side of the Blue
Ridge. With Lee moving south along the western side, there's
bound to be constant clashes. I shall be needed."

 Mary sighed. "How I envy youl Miss Barton, may I not ride
a few miles with you to-morrow7 They say it's such a superb
sight, and dramatic, too, that road packed with transports and
marching soldiers, all the way between Washington and Army
Headquarters."

 "Indeed you mayl Though " a mischievous look in her
eyes "I'm afraid the President won't forgive me."

 "He'd forgive you anything!" exclaimed Mary. "What time
do you leave your house7"

"At ten o'clock," replied Miss Barton.

"I'll be there," declared Mary, accompanying Miss Barton to
the door.

 She remained standing there after the visitor's departure,
looking anxiously toward the stairhead. It was nine o'clock.
Tad was with his father, and ought to be in bed. She was
debating with herself whether or not to go over to Stanton's
office, when Lincoln, Tad on his shoulders, appeared on the
stairs. As if by magic, John Hay materialised from the
secretaries' room, Seward and Sumner from the President's
office. They converged toward the door into the sitting room.

"Please, pleasel" cried Mary, "allow Mr. Lincoln to eat his
supper firsts

226 FOREVER FREE

He's had nothing since noon. All of you come in here, while
Tad takes his father to the dining room."

 There was half laughing, half impatient agreement on the
part of Lincoln, while the others followed Mrs. Lincoln
meekly into the sitting room.

 "You must not think of me only as a petty tyrant," said
Mary, a little sadly, as she seated herself. "Mr. Lincoln looks
so old and weary that it frightens mel"

 "We think of you as an important part of the President's
brains and backbone," retorted Seward.

 "For that, you may smoke, sirl" exclaimed Mary. "I told
Mrs. Seward the other day that you ought to be taking an
iron tonic. You are overworking yourself, Governor."

 "Who isn't?" demanded Seward. "I wouldn't be surprised
any day to discover a grey hair in John Hay's cherished
mustache."

 John groaned. "What are grey hairs to me? I'm
preoccupied with more serious matters! The price of
clothing for example! I can't afford so much as a new
waistcoat."

 "It's very sad," agreed Seward, puffing vigorously at his
cigar and looking up at Sumner, who stood with an elbow on
the mantelpiece. "Senator, if I knew as much about the art
of dressing as you, Lincoln would never have had a chance
at the Presidency."

 Sumner glanced down, unsmilingly, at his blue broadcloth
trousers. "I see," he said, absentmindedly. Then, as the
others laughed, he added, apologetically, "I was thinking
about a favor I must ask of the President. One of my
constituents, most important to the proclamation, wants his
son to be made a brigadier-general."

 "You have no chance whatever, Senatorl" exclaimed
Seward, briskly. Then he added, with a great laugh, "I know
whereof I speakl This morning I urged that very promotion
for a constituent of mine, and the President reduced me to
pulp."

"What is there humorous about that?" asked Sumner.

 "Well, Lincoln told me a story, prefacing it with the
remark that we already had more generals than we knew
what to do with. 'Look here, Seward,' he said, 'suppose you
had a large cattleyard, full of all sorts of cattle cows, oxen,
bulls and you kept killing, selling and disposing of your
cows and oxen in one way and another, taking good care of
your bulls. By and by you'd find that you had nothing but a
yardful of old bulls, good for nothing under heaven. Now it
will be just that way with the army if I don't stop making
brigadier-generals!'"

 John Hay shouted. Sumner smiled, a little uncomfortably.
And in the midst of it Lincoln came in carrying a pitcher of
milk and a glass, while Tad followed with a plate of bread.

 "Taddie and I decided we didn't like the supper, and we
didn't like the dining room," he said, "so we raided the
kitchen and here we are," seating himself at the table, while
Mary and John Hay jumped to clear a place

THE BACKWOODS JUPITER ZZ7

for him. Taddie, with a glance at the clock, and another at his
mother retired discreetly to a stool behind his father's chair.

"What's the news from England, Sumner?" asked the
President.

 "A letter from Adams, to-day," said Seward, "says that
Gladstone wants the Government to intervene at once. He
denounces the proclamation in the most cynical and captious
manner."

 "I understand the President to be speaking to me, sir."
Sumner gave the imperturbable Seward a severe glance.
"Cobden is delighted with the proclamation, so is John
Bright."

 "Yesl Yesl" Lincoln spoke impatiently. "But what of the
Govemment? What of Lord Russell?"

 "He is supercilious, ready to do anything that will make a
nation of the South," replied Sumner.

 "The same old storyl" murmured the President, thrusting
aside his scarcely tasted meal, and staring broodingly into the
fire. No one intruded on his silence. He thought of William
Russell's failure to accomplish what he had asked of him, he
thought of Thurlow Weed's last report from France, that only
a miracle could keep the Emperor's hand from intervening.
When would the common people of England speak? When?

 "McClellan is at Rectortown," he said, aloud. "Lee is
coming through the Blue Ridge below him, heading for
Culpeper, I reckon."

 "He's going to get there before McClellan does, tool"
exclaimed John Hay. "I wish Grant had his hands on the
Army of the Potomac."

 "Grant's needed where he is, as I told the Cabinet this
morning," replied the President. "You weren't there, Seward.
I read them a poem I'd like you to hear, by that fellow,
Edmund Clarence Stedman. The Cabinet was wondering how
the Republican North would take it, if the Lord or some
other hand removed McClellan. This answers part of the
question:

"Back from the trebly crimsoned field
 Terrible words are thunder-tostl
 Full of wrath that will not yield,
 Full of revenge for battles lostl
 Hark to their echo, as it cross's
 The Capitol, making faces want
 End the murderous holocaust!
 Abraham Lincoln, give us a rnanl
 Give us a man of God's own mould,
 Born to marshal his fellow men;
 One whose fame is not bought and sold
 At the stroke of a politician's pen;
 Give us the man of thousands ten
 Fit to do as well as to plan.
 Give us a rallying cry, and then,
 Abraham Lincoln, find us a manl . . ."
 
z28 FOREVER FREE

 He read through the several remaining verses, then
replaced the clipping in his pocket. "Yes, a maul" he
repeated. "But where?"

 "John Hay would be a good gene'al," exclaimed Taddie,
unexpectedly. "He's bossy enough, that I knowI"

 Lincoln gave a sudden shout of laughter and reaching
behind his chair, pulled the little boy round to sit on his
knee.

 Mary seized the moment. "Clara Barton ought to be a
general, at the very least. Do you men know that she was
with the army, every minute, at the battle of Antietam, that
men were shot in her arms, that she brought them bandages,
candles, ether, wine, when and where they had nothing?
Why, that woman soothed and bandaged Burnside's men as
they dropped beside the bridgel She was here, to-night. She
fears another engagement. She says McClellan wants more
hospital tents and Quartermaster Meigs says 'nor' She has
tents for five thousand men in her warehouse. Will you
make Meigs send them7"

"No," replied the President, quietly. "I will not."

 "Not fo' the sick, wounded men, Papa day7" pleaded
Taddie, turning his sleep heavy blue eyes up to his father.

 "The men have had everything sent to them that mules
and roads can carryl" exclaimed Lincoln. "Clara Barton is a
noble woman, but I'd make her General-in-Chief sooner
than I'd buckle to another of McClellan's excuses."

 "But these are for the men, Mr. Lincoln," cried Mary. "If
you could hear the story of their sufferings as I hear them,
day after day, always retreating, always defeated nothing
to pay for their horrible sufferings "

Taddie began to cry. "Papa day, please, please "

 Lincoln set the little boy to his feet. "Nor" he said, in a
voice the child seldom heard. "Go to bed, at once. This I
cannot and will not bear."

 Taddie, after one glance at his father's face, rushed from
the room, colliding at the door with Lord Lyons. The
Minister smiled down at him, then crossed the room to bow
over Mary Lincoln's hand. The President greeted him with
an entire lack of his usual jocularity. The diplomat was
equally grave.

 "I was requested to deliver a message to Mr. Seward, the
moment of my arrival in Washington," he said. "I have only
just come from the train."

 "We'll step into the President's office, Lord Lyons."
Seward spoke with alacrity.

 "One moment," interposed Lincoln. "The message would,
I presume, interest me, as the head of this Government7"

"Certainly, Your Excellency," replied the Minister.

 "Then supposing you deliver it right here." Lincoln folded
his arms and leaned against the mantel, opposite Sumner.

 Lord Lyons raised his black brows but bowed, courteously.
"Lord Russel wishes me to procure your Government's
opinion on the following hypothetical query: Has not the
time come for offering mediation to the

THE BACKWOODS JUPITER 229

United States Government, with a view to stopping the
useless carnage of this fanatical wart"

 Seward cleared his throat excitedly, but Lincoln shook his
head at the Secretary. He spoke slowly and thoughtfully.

 "Say this to your Government, Lord Lyons: Tell them they
will find our opinion if they'll inquire among the cotton
operators of England, the people whom the war is starving."

 "And what am I to understand by that, Your Excellency?"
ejaculated the Englishman.

 "You're to understand, sir," replied Lincoln, returning the
Englishman's look, keenly, "that a government that does not
listen to the voice of the plain people is deaf to its own best
interests."

 Lord Lyons permitted himself to smile. "That is your theory
of successful governing, Your Excellency7"

 "It is, sir. Also, I'd urge your common sense to realize that
this is a family quarrel. Human nature is such that when the
well-intentioned outsider interferes in that kind of a fight,
he's apt to find himself embroiled in the mix-up."

 "I'm not so sure that England is well-intentioned," said
Seward, abruptly. "I'm told that the powers higher up, over
there, rejoice every time the North loses a battle. The
neutrality is only skin-deep."

 Lincoln tossed his head, impatiently. Seward's liking for an
argument always annoyed him, but particularly did it annoy
him to-night. Sumner started to reply but the President
interrupted:

 "What I can't seem to impress on you folks is that Lord
Russell is no fool, and, whatever his personal feeling is, he's
not going to lead his country into a war unpopular with the
people."

 Seward spoke quickly but with a smile. "If Lord Lyons has
been privy to the feeling of New York State he must feel that
you, yourself, are heading an unpopular war, Mr. Lincoln."

 Lincoln returned the smile. "I'm attorney for the people,
and I'm not going to let my client manage the case against my
judgment."

 The Englishman bowed to the President. "I apprehend that
my hypothetical query has been fully answered."

 "I aimed to do just that, Lord Lyons," replied Lincoln.
"Charles,"  turning to Sumner, - "you go along with Lyons
and show him your last letter from the Duchess of Argyle. It
might be an eye-opener to him."

 "I'd like to hear that too, if I may," Seward said. He bade
Mary good night and followed the others from the room.

 Mary remarked that Taddie must not take both dogs to bed
with him, and hurried out, leaving John Hay and Lincoln
alone. The President returned to his neglected supper. He
drank two glasses of milk and finished the plate of bread,
while John Hay stood silent before the fire. The two were
completely companionable.

''John,'' said Lincoln, suddenly, "do you recall a sort of threat
or promise

230 FOREVER FREE

I made myself in your presence, when I got back from my
visit to Antietam7"

 "Yes, sirl You said that if McClellan should permit Lee to
cross the Blue Ridge and place himself between Richmond
and the Army of the Potomac, you would remove him from
command."

 "And now" Lincoln rose and took a noiseless stride or
two up and down the room "now Lee has crossed the Blue
Ridge and is installed at Culpeper Courthouse, and
McClellan is still thirty miles north of him. John," in a voice
indescribably mournful, "I've lost my faith in himl" Then,
"Come into my room a moment."

 Young Hay followed eagerly. Lincoln turned up the light,
and strode over to his bedside table, where his Bible lay,
with a letter on the open pages. "I was reading this book
most of last night, when I wasn't measuring off the distance
between my bed and the grate. John, when I get to thinking
of the chance George McClellan has thrown away to be the
most valuable man, the best-loved man in this country, I
could sit down and cry like a girl that's lost her first lover.
He should, and could, have been everything to us. Herel
Isaiah said it. 'And a man shall be as an hiding place from
the wind and a covert from the tempest; as rivers of water
in a dry place; as the shadow of a great rock in a weary
land As the shadow of a great rock in a weary land' but
he has chosen otherwise. Here, read what I birthed of my
last night's travail."

John took the letter and, with growing pallor, read:

 "By direction of the President, it is ordered that
Major-General McClellan be relieved from the command of
the Army of the Potomac, and that Major-General Burnside
take command of that Army. Also, that Major-General
Hunter take command of the corps in said Army which is
now commanded by General Burnside.

 "That Major-General Fitz-John Porter be relieved from
the corps he now commands in said Army, and that
Major-General Hooker take command of said corps.

 "The General-in-Chief is authorised, in his discretion, to
issue the order substantially as above, forthwith, or as soon
as he may deem proper. A. Lincoln."

 John looked up from the letter. "Hurray! Three huzza's
and a tigerl The backwoods Jupiter is wielding the bolts of
war at lastl"

 "Shall you still cheer if McClellan leads the army down
here and takes my job overt" asked the President, refreshed,
as he always was by John's volatility.

"He'll never even try, the coward!" exclaimed young Hay.

 "He's drunk with vanity and ambition, and a drunken man
is a dangerous man," declared Lincoln. "It's more than likely
he'll take a long shot at the White Housel John, I'm going
to take that order to Stanton, now."

"Want me to go with you, sire" with a little grin as of
understanding.

 Lincoln returned the grin. "I reckon I do. He'll still be in
his office, awaiting news from Grant."

THE BACKWOODS JUPITER 231

 "Better not venture out until I go into the reception room
and engage the attention of the crowd. In two minutes, sir,
you hustle down the staircase and I'll join you at the front
door."

 The little strategy was carried through. "Anybody there I
ought to see?" asked the President, as, somewhat breathless,
John shot past old Daniel into the shadowy portico.

 "No one there, at all, sir, except Fernando Wood. I turned
him over to Nicolay."

 "I refuse to see Wood again. I don't trust him," said the
President, then lapsed into silence, his thoughts on McClellan.

 Stanton was standing before his tall desk, signing letters, as
the President and his secretary came in.

 "Quartermaster-General Meigs proves another lie on
McClellan," he rasped, abruptly. "McClellan says he's been
waiting for horses, that he's received only l 50 horses a week
since the first of September. As a matter of fact he's been
receiving an average of 1,459 horses a week. I'm ready to
court-martial that fellow."

"Is Halleck anywhere 'round?" asked Lincoln.

 Stanton glanced at his watch. "He's due here, right now, to
get Meigs' report. And here he comes," as Halleck, looking at
least ten years older than his forty-seven years, came slowly
into the room.

 "Come along to the funeral, Halleckl" Lincoln took the
soldier's arm, affectionately. "You look all set for it."

 The General-in-Chief looked up at the President, his large,
fine eyes sunk in his head, as though by a wasting illness.
"McClellan has worn me out, Mr. Lincoln."

 "We'll fix that up, right nowl" Lincoln pushed Halleck into
a chair. "Come, Stanton, get off your feet for a while." He
shoved Stanton to the sofa beside John Hay, and wrapped his
own long legs round the desk stool. Then he read aloud the
order dismissing McClellan.

 As he pronounced the last word, Stanton jumped to his feet
with a roar. "A month later Six months later"

 Lincoln looked over his spectacles at the Secretary of War.
"Do you mean you wouldn't fire him?"

Halleck bit his nails. "Either McClellan or I must go, Mr.
Stanton."

Stanton turned on him with a sneer. "What! Has the worm
turned?"

 "Comer Come, Stanton. Don't visit your impatience with me
on poor Halleck. What have you got against my order?"
Lincoln's voice was very kindly. He pitied Stanton for his bad
nerves.

 The Secretary jerked off his spectacles, jerked his head,
brought his fist down on the desk where he was again
standing, close to the President.

"That it's too later"

 "Then you would keep McClellan? You mean that,
Stanton?" urged Lincoln gently. "I really don't think he's to be
trusted!"

"Trusted!" shouted Stanton. "Trusted! Why, you simple
fool "

"Mr. Stanton, you forget yourself!" snapped John Hay,
springing from

232 FOREVER FREE

the sofa, his black eyes blazing. "No, Mr. President, I will
not be silenced," as Lincoln shook his head at him. "I have
every respect for the ability and integrity of the Secretary of
War. But I take this occasion solemnly to warn him that
unless he ceases his attacks on the President, he will be
known to history only for the virulent and impertinent
epithets he applied to Abraham Lincoln."

 Lincoln moved uncomfortably on his stool. Praise always
embarrassed him. Hay and Stanton glared at each other, but
before Lincoln could discover the tactful word he sought,
the Secretary of War put his glasses back on his nose.

 "Perhaps I deserve that, Hay," he said, quietly. Then, his
voice rising, "But McClellan is a traitorous scoundrel. I hate
his very gizzard. If the President had taken my advice six
months ago "

 "How dare he take your advice as to persons, Mr.
Stanton," asked John Hay, earnestly, "when your counsel is
so frequently mixed with insuperable hatreds7"

 Stanton sighed and turned to Lincoln. "I really am
delighted, sir," he said, with the charm of voice and manner
none knew better how to wield. "Tell me your further
wishes."

 "Better dictate a note to John Hay, this thing must be
kept secret, to be sent with this order And you, too,
Halleck " replied the President. "Cheer up, Halleckl You're
better at writing than anything else. If I'd written your book
on war, I'd have a real claim on famel"

 He spoke with a jocularity he was far from feeling, and
paced the floor while the notes were dictated.

 "By direction of the President of the United States, it is
ordered that Major-General McClellan be relieved from the
command of the Army of the Potomac, and that
Major-General Burnside take command of that Army.

"By order of the Secretary of War."

 Halleck bit his smooth-shaven lips; then, with an unusual
note of firmness in his voice, he gave John Hay this
dictation:

 "General, on receipt of the order of the President, sent
herewith, you will immediately turn your command over to
Major-General Burnside, and report to Trenton, New Jersey,
reporting on your arrival at that place, by telegraph, for
further orders. Halleck."

 Stanton stared as he listened, and as the General-in-Chief
finished, he shouted, "That's rightl Exile himl Make the cut
complete and finall That's where your military experience
and knowledge come in, General."

 "Yes," agreed Lincoln, who was very pale. "And now,
whom shall we send with this?"

 "General Buckingham," replied Halleck, promptly. "He's
an older man, discreet and long-headed and very suave."

 "Get him started, at once," directed the President, "and in
this manner: He is to go first to Burnside, at Orleans.
Burnside is going to be unhappy about this. He's devoted to
McClellan and doesn't want this job. I wish

THE BACKWOODS JUPITER 233

myself there was some one better fitted for it. Your
messenger must be smart enough to understand this feeling
of Burnside's because he's got to persuade Burnside to go
with him to McClellan, at Rectortown, or wherever he may
be at that hour, and he must see Buckingham deliver the
order to McClellan. Tell Buckingham to come to me as soon
as he returns."

 For the first time Stanton smiled. "I seel Very goodl
Anything else, Mr. Lincoln?"

 "One thing morel How many men have we to-night in the
defences around Washington?"

"About 70,000, Mr. President," replied Halleck.

 "Be prepared for McClellan's making a move against them,
or for their joining him. He very likely may prepare to
become dictator," said Lincoln, gravely.

There was a short silence broken by Halleck's, "Very well,
sir."

 Lincoln gathered up his grey shawl, took his cap from his
pocket and nodded to John.

               CHAPTER XXXI
               TEE OF PUTTY

    ARY was bonneted the next morning, and was
wrapping her fur1 \/lined mantua about her, when Lincoln
came into the room.

17 . - "Tad told me you were going out for the day," he said,
explaining his unwonted appearance at that hour, "and I
want you not to go, Mary. I had a bad dream, last night.
Some one was trying to strangle you. You were alone in a
grove of trees, and, try as I would, I couldn't get to you.
Mary, you stay right in the house, to-day, where I can get a
glimpse of you whenever I want to."

 Mary paused in the arrangement of the folds of the
mantua over her arms, and stared at her husband. He was
looking even more ghastly than usual. His lips trembled
nervously.

"Abra'm, has something more than usual happened7 Is a
battle begun7"

 "Nol Yesl Mary." He put his hand on hers. "I've removed
McClellan permanently."

 "Thank God Almightyl Does McClellan know it, yet7" She
dropped the cloak, and seized his hand in both of hers.

"He will know this afternoon."

 "And you fear almost anything, both military and political!
Oh, my dear, I'll not leave you, to-day!" Mary began to pull
off her gloves.

 "It's not thatl I really had an ugly dream. I woke crying."
He looked down into her blue eyes, wondering if it would
ease the pain in his heart to tell her of all the black
forebodings that had made the night horrible. But he dared
not, he told himself, permit even a trickle to appear in the
levee, lest the whole wall of his control give way.... "Mary, I
loved McClellan," was what he finally brought forth.

"I know you did, and so does he know it, the priceless
fooll"

Lincoln stooped and kissed her, then hurried back to his
office..

 Mary, with a little sigh for the adventure she was giving
up, sent off a note to Miss Barton, advising her that she had
not yet abandoned hope as regarded the tents, and excusing
herself from taking the proposed ride in the ambulance.
Then she settled to bandage making.

 It was bitter November weather, with heavy clouds and
snow flurries. Lincoln looked into the sitting room several
times during the day, brightened at the smile Mary gave him
and hurried back to his office.. The weather, by six o'clock,
was very bad, and visitors thinned out, correspondingly. And
still no word from General Buckingham. Lincoln spent the
evening with the Attorney General, going over soldiers'
petitions for pardons and reprieves, as usual reducing poor
Bates to despair over his

THE KEYSTONE OF PUTTY z35

leniency. Shortly before eleven, this task was completed, and
Lincoln started for his room. He paused a moment at young
Stoddard's desk.

"Working late, aren't you, Billy7"

  "I've sworn I'll not leave this desk, sir, until I've finished
these letters. They've been accumulating since September,
from important people about the emancipation proclamation."
The young man smiled and sighed at the same time.

  "Better go to bed, my boyl This burning of the midnight oil
kits us old fellows, not young ones who should be out
courting pretty girls." He patted Stoddard's shoulder, and
moved wearily on toward bed.

  Gradually the White House settled to quiet, but as the
hours wore on, Stoddard became aware that, above the
ticking of the clock, there was another steady and
monotonous sound, and told himself that the President was
walking the floor again. At three o'clock, when Stoddard
finished the last letter and started for home, the slow, even
sound fell on his ears as he went softly down the staircase.

  At five o'clock, there came the tinkling thud of a spurred
boot in the hall outside Lincoln's room. He opened the door
just as a knock sounded. An officer, wrapped in a
snow-covered cape, saluted him.

  "General Buckingham, Mr. President. I have just come in
from Rectortown."

  "Come in, Generall" Lincoln closed the door, carefully.
"Hang your cloak before the fire. Here, let me help you. You
look very tired."

  Buckingham, a man with fine, intelligent eyes, and a
clean-cut nose above iron-grey whiskers, took the chair
Lincoln indicated.

  "It was an unsavory job, eh, Buckingham?" asked the
President, dreading, yet impatient for what the general had to
tell.

  "Why, I never had a more difficult one, sirl" exclaimed
Buckingham. "I delivered the order to Burnside, first. I never
have seen a man so shocked. At first he could say nothing.
Then he gathered himself together and said the order was a
matter to which he would like to give thought, that he did not
want the command. Then he called in two of his staff officers,
and showed them the order. They were delighted at his
promotion, and so expressed themselves. But for more than
two hours he held out against them and me. He insisted that
he was not competent to take so large a command; that
General McClellan was his intimate friend; that McClellan
was better fitted than any one else in the Army of the
Potomac to command it. But Burnside's is, essentially, a
gentle nature. He yielded, at last, and we set out for
Rectortown in a blinding snowstorm."

"You think Burnside weak, General7" asked Lincoln, uneasily.

  "He hasn't a big fist," replied Buckingham. "I wouldn't say
he was weak. We found McClellan writing letters in his tent,
and I gave him the orders. He read them, then he looked at
Burnside with a smile and said, 'I congratulate you, Generall'

  "'But I don't want the job,' Burnside said, 'I want you to
keep itl Call your staff in, Generall'

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 "McClellan kept on smiling and called in his officers. I don't know,"
hesitating, "whether he thought I was of no significance, or whether he
wanted me to get an idea of what he meant to the Army of the
Potomac. But, Mr. President, he allowed several of his officers to urge
him, in my presence, to march on Washington and take over the
Government."

Lincoln leaned forward, tensely.

 "There were hours and hours of talk. They forgot their meals. They
forgot their military duties. I swear to you, I didn't know what my
move was, sir. I finally decided to sit tight, and wait for McClellan to
declare himself. He sat hunched up at the table, biting his nails, long
after every one had said his say. Finally, he got up and looked at me.
'General,' he said, 'go back and tell Lincoln I'll take his order."'

"Ahl" breathed Lincoln, almost groaning with relief. "Loyal at the lastI"

 "Perhaps!" said Buckingham, wearily. "More likely he was afraid.
More likely it was just as impossible to his nature to move on
Washington as on Richmond. Let history decide that. Certainly his
contemporaries can't."

 "General," Lincoln put his hand on the older man's knee with a sense
of gratitude he found it difficult to express, "how can I repay you for
the splendid chore you've done for us7"

 "By letting me go home for a bath and sleep, sirl" with a twinkle in
his eye that lighted a twinkle in the President's.

"Will you let me find a cup of coffee for you, firsts"

 Buckingham rose and drew on his cape. "I'd rather go home, thank
you, Mr. Lincoln."

 "All right, General. But you come back some day, and we'll take time
off for a good talk. Come along. I'll let you out, myself." He led the
weary general, however, not out to the north portico, but down through
the kitchen, where the colored cook was just pouring out her
pre-breakfast cup of coffee.

 She was not at all confused by the arrival of the President, but
grinned at him, affectionately. "Been up all night again, Massa Lincum,
I suppose! Sally, bring cups for Massa Lincum and the gemmun."

 "Sit down, Generall" Lincoln pushed Buckingham into a chair by the
fire, and himself passed him the steaming cup before he took his own.
"These might seem like funeral baked meats to some," he said to his
highly edified guest, "but to me it's a libation to dawnl"

 -      Buckingham looked up with his fine, understanding gaze
and lifted his

cup toward Lincoln. They drank in silence. Having sped his guest,
the
President mounted the steps, two at a time, and bursting into Mary's
room, roused her from sleep to impart the news to her. She listened,
wide-eyed, then said, with extraordinary solemnity:

"Abra'm, the war is wont You are in the saddle, at lastl"

 "I'm in the saddle and I'm going to ride just as soon as I find the
stirrups," Lincoln said, carefully. "This is the crisis. If the peace party
accepts McClellan's dismissal, however sullenly, it means that they will
also accept the emancipation proclamation. I shall issue the edict of
freedom

THE KEYSTONE OF PUTTY 237

January first, as I say I will in the proclamation. Then I shall
ride, spurred boots in the stirrups. I must tell John Hay and
George Nicolay."

 Word of the dismissal spread over the country like wildfire.
By night, the Cabinet table, Lincoln's own desk, Stoddard's
desk were covered with messages from the public, the bitter,
vitriolic protests coming first, as usual. Lincoln worked with
his secretaries, sorting and reading, struggling to feel the
pulse of the country at the earliest possible moment. An un-
usual crowd of visitors thronged the halls. Mary finally
established herself in the Blue Room, and gave tea and
guarded information to the motley groups of women, who
suddenly claimed acquaintanceship with her. Whether they
admired or despised him, certainly McClellan had a greater
hold on the imaginations of his fellow countrymen, at that
moment, than any other person.

 Toward the supper hour, a heavy sleet storm set in, and the
women folk fled for their homes or hotels. By seven o'clock,
Mary was alone with her empty tea tray. She had risen
wearily to go upstairs, when a tall woman in black silk
appeared in the doorway of the East Room. She wore a
heavy mourning veil which concealed her face but Mary knew
her, instantly.

"Good evening, Miss Ford," she said, coolly.

 The Virginian flung back her veil, disclosing an olive tinted
face distorted with something more than anger. To Mary she
looked maniacal. Her eyes were half closed, her lips twisted
to one side. She walked slowly across the room toward Mary.

 "So," she said, her drawl never more pronounced, "you've
had your way about McClellan, at last, you little call"

 Mary reached toward the bell rope, but with a sudden
spring, Miss Ford placed herself before the handle. "I want
only a few moments with you." She smiled crookedly. "I have
just come from McClellan. I have just seen a man, a great
man, contemplating the ruins of his life. I "

 Mary interrupted. She was recovering her poise. Surely,
some one would come, at any moment. "No one knows better
than you, Miss Ford, that McClellan is not great. Your choice
of him was bad. A man small enough to be a tool cannot be
big enough for greatness."

 "You are learning to be sententious," sneered the Virginian.
Then, leaning toward Mary until her twitching face was not
two feet away, she said, "My house has been burned down.
My riggers are gone. My father was shot as a spy, last week.
All thanks to you and your 'intellectual giant.' Look at me,
Madaml Half insane, am I not? Fit to destroy anything
hunted desperate! Multiply me by a million, two million, ten
million, and you have the South. Am I a toy7 Am I to be
ignored7 Can you ,broclaim me out of the way7 Can you
abolish me with words me and my million fellow devils7"

 Mary, very deliberately, sat down and poured herself a cup
of tea. She did not believe that the Virginian would lay hands
on her, and she felt a

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sudden conviction that, given free scope, the frantic maker
of plots would divulge some important facts.

 "A good many people seemed to resent the proclamation,"
she remarked mildly. "What did you think of it?"

 Miss Ford made a gesture of disgust. "Don't try to play
with me, Mary Lincoln. You still fail to understand the
depth of my desperation. I know Abraham Lincoln better
than you do. I recognize the profundity of his political
wisdom, as you cannot, because I am among those who have
sought to frustrate him. More than that I love him, yes,
scowl with your doll face, I love him with a passion of
which you are incapable. Therefore I read the handwriting
on the wall as no other Southerner, and as few Northerners
have read it.

 "Listen to me and judge, if you can, my despair. When
Lincoln removed George McClellan from the control of
3oo,ooo men in the Army of the Potomac, he removed the
only practical menace against the carrying out of the threat
in the proclamation on January first. If Lincoln is still alive
on January hrst to sign the anal paper that frees the slaves,
he will have broken the essential fighting superiority of the
South, and the end is only a question of time. George
McClellan was the keystone of the peace-with-slavery arch.
Lincoln has pulled him down."

 Mary, her heart beating heavily, sipped her cold tea with
a supercilious smile. "He was a pseudo-keystone. He was
made of putty. That's where your judgment made its fatal
error. Jeff Davis must be grateful to you."

 "Yes, he's quite as grateful as you could wish. But I call
your attention to the fact that your husband's judgment was
almost as weak as mine. It's thanks to you that he came to
his senses."

 "You flatter me and contradict yourself," rejoined Mary,
"having just spoken of his profound wisdom. May I ask why
you are displaying the bad taste of telling me you are in love
with my husband7"

 "Because I know the thought will torment you when you
realize how much more suited I am to be his mate than
your" The Virginian loosened the strings of her bonnet as
though she found breathing difficult.

Mary laughed. "You poor, crazy thingl"

 "Yes, crazy now, thanks to your" declared Miss Ford, "but
at my best, a year ago, the proper mate for him."

 "I suppose it's this alleged love of yours that led you to
send that fool of a Gordon to shoot the President, last
summer!" Mary rose again, moving a little away from the
menacing, dark face. "Well, you can't send him again, before
January first, because he was killed at Antietam."

 Miss Ford looked at her wonderingly. "Did some one
shoot at Lincoln7  Gordon7 I warned Lincoln of that
possibility. We did not use him for that " She seemed to
fall into a profound reverie.

 Mary edged a little further away. "Well, Miss Ford, if I
had your conviction of pre-knowledge, I'd go down South
and tell my friends they might as well quit now."

"If you had my conviction," returned the Virginian, "you'd do
as I do.

THE KEYSTONE OF PUTTY 239

Take you with me where neither of us can belong to Lincoln."
She attempted to draw a small pistol from the reticule which
hung on her left arm, but there was filigree mounting on the
barrel which caught in the silk cords of the bag. Mary, who,
for an instant, as she saw eternity opening before her, had
seemed paralyzed, took advantage of the reprieve. She
screamed, and with all her strength, thrust the tea table at the
Virginian. It crashed into her, upsetting itself, and throwing
Miss Ford backward against the wall. Then Mary fled.

 At the door she ran into James and Taddie, followed by
half a dozen, then a dozen strangers, part of the President's
throng of visitors. She seized Taddie, gasping. "Take
her spy-armed- Don't let her get awayl" Then she fled up
the stairs, dragging the frightened child with her.

 She burst into the President's office. Sumner was with him.
"Miss Ford, downstairs, tried to shoot me. Send for Colonel
Bakerl" she panted, then sank into a chair and began to cry.
Taddie, the moment she had freed his hand, ran into the hall.
Lincoln and Sumner both hurried to Mary's side, but before
they could more than begin to question her, Taddie ran in.

"They a' Swinging Miss Fo'd upstai'sl"

 A confusion of voices sounded in the hall. Lincoln, with a
reassuring pat on his wife's shoulder, went into the reception
room. Stoddard was trying to clear the crowd out. Miss Ford,
her hands bound together with a handkerchief, stood calmly
between James and old Daniel.

 "Take her into my office," ordered the President. "Billy, get
Baker over here. The rest of you gentlemen will kindly clear
the room." He followed the crowd to the door, closed it and
locked it after them, handing the key to Stoddard. Then he
returned to his office, Taddie still at his side.

 Mary was no longer weeping. She was standing before the
grate, leaning on Charles Sumner's arm, and glaring at the
Virginian, who was leaning against the Cabinet table, her eyes
on the blazing fire. Sumner scowled when he observed Taddie
who at once slid into an inconspicuous corner behind his
father's desk.

 Lincoln ran his fingers through his hair, took out the ivory
paper knife, and otherwise prepared himself for what he felt
would be one of the most distasteful scenes of his life.

 "James, you needn't keep hold of Miss Ford's arm, I
reckon," he suggested.

 "I reckon if he does, there'll be a dead nigger in the White
House before another dawn," drawled Miss Ford, without
raising her eyes from her contemplation of the blaze.

 "'Scuse me, Mr. President." James did not stir. "I saw this
lady trying to pull a pistol at the Madam. Guess maybe you
didn't understand that."

"Let Senator Sumner take your place, James," ordered
Lincoln.

 "Senator Sumner must decline, sir." Sumner, very pale, his
blue eyes full of pain, patted Mary's hand which quivered on
his arm, and resolutely stared at the shadow in which Taddie
was shivering.

240 FOREVER FREE

  Lincoln ran the paper knife through his hair. "Just what
happened, wife?"

  "I was alone in the Blue Room. Miss Ford came in
through the East Room door. She seemed demented. She
talked wildly for a few moments, then said she was going to
shoot me and herself, and tried to draw a pistol from her
reticule. It caught, and I pushed the tea table into her and
ran. James and a crowd did the rest."

"What did you do, James7" questioned the President.

  "I grasped the hand that had the pistol, Massa Lincum, sir,
and some more gentmen tied her hands, and Daniel and me
led her up here." James spoke firmly, but with an uneasy
black eye on the Virginian.

  "What on earth could you have against my wife, Miss
Fordt" demanded the President, conscious of mounting fury,
and determined not to show it.

  "Many things, Abraham Lincoln, but chiefly that she is
your wife," replied Miss Ford, suddenly lifting her violet eyes
to rest on his. "I'd resent any one that has that position."

"Do send Tad out, Mrs. Lincoln," begged Charles Sumner.

Mary started. "Where is the child? Taddiel"

Taddie sidled up to his father. "You want me, don't you,
Papa day7"

  "Might as well let him stay. He's my shadow, I reckon,"
said Lincoln, looking at his wife.

"Taddiel" Mary spoke sharply, motioning toward the door.

  The child hesitated, then he said, "Yes, I'll go motha'. I
know Miss Fo'd's been naughty but don't you fo'get how
good she was to Willie and me and how Willie loved he'. I
do, too."

  He ran across the room, clasped Miss Ford's two
imprisoned hands in his, and kissed them. Then, with a
child's peculiar dignity, he marched out of the room.

  Lincoln looked after him with softened eyes. But his anger
was not lessened by the little boy's lovely gesture. Miss Ford
had not given Tad a glance.

  "If you'd tried to shoot me, I could see your point, you
being a Southerner," said Lincoln. "But when you attack my
wife I have no bowels of compassion."

  The Virginian had not taken her eyes from his face. "Don't
talk nonsense to me," she drawled. "I know how to value
what you feel for your wife."

"Miss Fordl" ejaculated Sumner.

Apparently, she did not hear him.

  Lincoln eyed her, thoughtfully. Then he looked at Sumner.
"I think you'd better take Mrs. Lincoln into the sitting room,
Charles. There's nothing for her in this nonsense."

  "No, Mr. Lincoln," cried Mary, "I'm not going to move
until I am assured that you won't hand this woman a pardon,
as you do every one else."

  Lincoln could feel himself flushing. Well, perhaps he
deserved that. He was pretty soft about the soldiers. But
Miss Fordl Her declaration of love

THE KEYSTONE OF PUTTY Z41

made him sick at his stomach. His lower lip pressed firmly
over his upper, he made no reply to Mary; only stood looking
at her. She gave a little sob, and permitted Sumner to lead
her away.

 As the door of the private passage closed behind the two,
Lincoln turned to Miss Ford. But before he could speak
Colonel Baker burst in from the reception room. He was
accompanied by a tall bearded sergeant of the detective
police.

 "My God, Mr. Lincolnl" he exclaimed. "I'm sorry and
ashamed about this."

 Lincoln nodded. "I want Miss Ford locked up in the Old
Capitol Prison, Colonel. And I want her kept there until after
January first. I'm going to hold you responsible if, in that
time, she communicates with the outside world. After that
date, if she has behaved herself, you are to send her down to
Richmond with the understanding that, if we catch her about
the Northern lines during the rest of the war, she shall have
the usual fate of spies. Now, you can go through the motions
of whatever you think is necessary to carry out my order. But
that's to stand."

 "I don't want your leniency, Abraham Lincolnl" cried Miss
Ford, suddenly straining to free her hands from her bonds.

 Lincoln motioned for Baker and his man to take over
James' and Daniel's job.

 As Baker deftly slipped handcuffs on her wrists, the
Virginian gave a piercing scream that rang through the White
House from attic to basemeet. But she did not resist as the
men led her from the room.

 Mary Lincoln was in a bad state of nerves. Lincoln went to
her room as soon as he had disposed of Miss Ford. He found
her in a violent hysterical attack, and sent at once for Dr.
Stone and Lizzie Keckley. He held her in his arms until those
two experts arrived, but the three were unable to quiet her,
and at last the doctor was obliged to give her an opiate.
Lizzie and the President sat by her bedside until midnight,
then the dressmaker persuaded him to go to bed.

 She wakened him at dawn, however. "The Madam's got
something on her mind, sir. She's all worked up about it and
I think you'd better come in, yourself."

 "All right, Lizzie," replied Lincoln, pulling on the faithful
and faded dressing gown and slippers.

Mary was sitting up among her pillows, wearily, like a child.

There was a good fire in the grate.

 "Pull the big chair up close to the flames, Lizzie," ordered
the President, "and we'll see if we can't comfort this girl. Put
a shawl round her."

 He lifted his wife in his arms, and seated himself in the big
chair, while Lizzie wrapped the shawl over them both' then
slipped from the room.

 "Hush, darling Mary, while I tell you something. I sent
Sister Ford off to the Old Capitol. Wasn't that sense
enough7"

Mary nodded convulsively.

"You were badly frightened, I know. But can't you think of
yourself

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as one of the soldier boys? What if each of them had
hysterics every time a gun was pointed at them? You were
brave as a lion, for a while. Can't you keep it up?"

  "I'm not frightened!" gasped Mary. "It was what she
said about you and mel"

  "Ohl" He patted her shoulder and stared into the fire.
What had the Virginian said? She had insinuated something.
A slur on his affection for Maryl Ah, yesl With sudden
understanding came sudden sense of contrition. Perhaps
there would never be a better time than now for clearing
away the fog.

  "Did she say more to you, in the Blue Room, than she did
to me, in the office, dear Mary?" he asked. "Try as hard as
you can, to stop the tears. Before long some one will burst
in on us, and I want you to empty your heart to me.
Whatever she said was lies, of course. I wanted to throw up
my dinner when she spoke about her feeling for me."

  A smile crossed poor Mary's swollen face. She was getting
herself in hand again. After a moment, she began to speak
coherently. And bit by bit, the story of the conversation in
the Blue Room came out. Mary had a remarkable memory.
The account, Lincoln knew, was complete and accurate. She
finished with a sentence that moved her husband more than
had her tears.

  "Don't waste time trying to comfort me, Abra'm, but tell
me the whole truth. Your kindly lies leave me utterly
lonely."

  The room was lighted only by the candle on the table and
the flame from the grate. The uncertain glow was kind to
Mary's face, and gave a depth to her eyes that was quite
unfathomable. The two stared at each other, struggling, as
have so many millions of men and women since humanity
was achieved, to pass the impassable barrier of human
personality.

  "Miss Ford," began Lincoln, thoughtfully, "isn't to blame
for all your tears. I reckon she was just the last straw.
You've been hearing from all sides devilish things about
what you mean to me."

  "Taddie came in the other day," said Mary, "and asked me
what it was for a lady to be a swear word. It turned out that
he had heard some one say that I was a curse to my
husband and my family."

  Lincoln winced and groaned, then said, "Mary, I don't
know what love is, do you? Is it limited to the kind of
feeling young folks have when they are sparking? Or has it
only to do with begetting? Or is it a never-ending need, one
for the other? Isn't it each of these things, not all at once,
but in inevitable sequence? Dear wife, can anything shake
our knowledge that all these belong to our experience with
each other? Mary, how can you let anything any one says
enter that holy place of which only husband and wife you
and I have knowledge?"

  Mary drew a long breath. He lifted her hand to his lips,
then put it down again.

  "Let's lay this ghost, once for all, my darling girl. No one
knows as I do how I neglect you and how that neglect feeds
malicious tongues. But,

THE KEYSTONE OF PUTTY 243

Mary, I'm not big enough to carry the burden of this war,
and have left time for the care and attention you ought to
have. All that is left is the unending need for you and even
for that I have scarcely strength to seek. I feel as a man must
feel who is carrying a burden uphill7 a burden so great that
his knees and his will buckle under him at every step. He
yearns for, he needs, he craves, the human tenderness he's
entitled to but he cannot indulge and refresh himself in
those. The burden requires all of him." He paused and the
old Carcassonne of his soul rose again. "Some day, precious
Mary, when all of this war is over, you and I will go to the
Holy Land and on around the world. And we'll have leisure
to give each other."

"Abra'ml Abra'ml Why haven't you said this to me before7"
cried Mary.

 "I've wanted to," he said, huskily. "But you know me, Mary.
I don't do the important things till circumstances force me.
I reckon it requires a convulsion of nature to get me going."

 Mary smiled a little. "I know. It needed the rebellion to
make a real President of you."

 "Yes, ma'am," he returned the smile, "and a Miss Ford,
with a shooting iron, to make a real husband of me."

 Mary laughed outright. "I doubt if even she could do thatl
But at least she's forced you to lay the ghost."

 Lincoln gathered both her hands in his. "Have I done that,
most dear wife?"

 "Abra'm, I understand, at last. And nothing that any one
can say or you can fail to do, will disturb me again." She laid
her cheek to his and he held her close.

A rap sounded immediately and Lizzie came in with a
breakfast tray.

 "Lizzie," asked Mary, "this is so opportune I'm almost
suspicious that you were listening at the keyhole!"

 Lizzie threw up her brown chin indignantly, but there was
a twinkle in her eye as she said, "You do me an injustice,
Madam Presidentl"

CHAPTER XXXII

               FOREVER FREE

LECTION day, as Nicolay observed to John Hay7 was almost
as much of a strain on the President as the day of the battle
of An. ~ tietam had been.

 Lincoln heard the remark and said, with a grim smile,
"We're fighting a battle, more important than any in the war
so far. If the fellows who say they won't back me in the
proclamation and in removing McClellan, are numerous
enough to control the State legislatures, Governors and Con-
gressmen, the battle and the proclamation are lost."

 And for many days after the returns came in, it did look
as if the battle were lost. The number of Democrats in the
House of Representatives was increased from forty-five to
seventy-five and it looked as though Lincoln had lost the
support of that great branch of the government. Huge
Democratic gains, indeed, marked the elections in all the
Middle West and they were overwhelming in New York
State, where Seymour quite literally had fulfilled his
prophecy and had placed New York in his pocket.

 As soon as the Congress convened on December first, a
bitter fight over the proclamation began. This was at its
height, when General Burnside, suddenly bolting the plans
of campaign which had been agreed upon by McClellan and
the War Department, moved the Army of the Potomac
against Fredericksburg. A battle was fought on December
13th, a battle that once more was a ghastly defeat for the
ill-starred Union forces. Lee's losses aggregated 4,zoo,
Burnside's over 1o,ooo.

 Lincoln passed through the battle-day with his usual travail
of spirit. Halleck, as he brought in person to the President
the last returns, on the evening of the 14th was in a state of
desperation. Lincoln read the figures.

 "It looks bad," he said, slowly, "unless we use long-shot
arithmetic. Lee had about 7s,ooo men and lost 4,200. We
had about 200,000 men, and lost 1o,ooo. If the same battle
were to be fought over again, every day, through a week of
days with the same relative results, Lee's army would be
wiped out, and Burnside's still be a mighty host. I can't find
a general who can face my arithmetic, but the end of the war
will be at hand when I do find him. Perhaps Grant will
develop that way."

"God forbid the carnage!" ejaculated Halleck.

 "The quickest way to end the war, Halleckl Burnside is due
to have an awful increase of desertions after this. You'd
better go down there yourself, General. Go over the ground
with him, and give Burnside some concrete suggestions. He's
lost his grip."

"My going would be useless, sir. He disregards me."

FOREVER FREE '45

  "Nonsense!" irritably from the President. "He's the most
honest, most reasonable man in the army."

  "I know he is, Mr. Lincoln, but he's lost his grip, as you
say." Halleck wiped his forehead with a sigh.

  "And that's where your skill lies, in helping him to get it
back. Don't fail me, General, in the point precisely where I
expect you to be of greatest assistance. Your great military
skill is useless to me unless you can do this sort of thing for
your generals in the field. Burnside is worth saving. He still,
because of his superb character, has the confidence of the
country. Now, you go out there in Virginia and save him."

  Halleck made a despairing gesture. "I'd rather you'd accept
my resignation, Mr. President."

  "I don't want it. What would I do with the thing? Frame its
Go out there, Halleck, and uphold Burnside's faltering
hands." He gave the discouraged General-in-Chief a smile
and turned back to the war map. Halleek mumbled an
apology and went out.

  When he had gone Lincoln again picked up the figures on
Fredericksburg and stared at them broodingly.

  "It's what I asked for," he said aloud. "It's what I said was
needed to make the North demand a greater reason for
fighting. It's the lever needed to make Congress see that
we've got to break the fighting superiority of the South by
using the slaves, or lose this war The Almighty must have
heard my thoughts and yet" wringing his hands and
groaning "it doesn't seem as if I could stand another defeat
and live. God will enable God only can enable, if He will if
He will."

  He sprang to his feet and rushed into Taddie's room, where
he engaged in a game of bear-baiting, until Mary insisted
upon putting the excited boy to bed.

  She came into his office, afterward, accompanying James
and the President's supper tray. She found that often she
could snatch a moment with her husband in this manner
when there had been no other free moment in the day.

  She stood by his desk, watching him as he absently ate his
soup. "Abra'm, shall you postpone issuing the edict of
freedom on January first, as you announced in the
proclamation?"

"Why should I?" asked Lincoln.

  "Well," replied Mary, "unless things make a sudden change,
it doesn't look as if the edict would have much force."

  Lincoln sighed, but declared that nothing could change his
purpose. Mary buttered a roll for him, and said, as she placed
it in his hand, "Abra'm, Taddie wants to send a present to
Miss Ford, for Christmas."

  "They may not let her have it." Lincoln's mind reverted,
with sudden pity, to the handsome, unhappy creature in a
cell. "He'll have to talk it over with Baker."

"You don't object?" asked Mary.

"Of course notl Do you?" smiling at her.

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 "Yes, I do. But the child needn't be thwarted in a
generous impulse for that reason. Anna, that coloredmaid of
hers, is devoted to her, by the way. She told Lizzie Keckley
that Miss Ford believes that Jinny made her way to Canada.
Seems Miss Ford had sent Jinny to take a message to
Gordon and she never came backl"

 "Poor Jinnyl" murmured Lincoln. "Baker, by the way, tells
me some one of his women prisoners in the Old Capitol is
keeping Davis informed of my movements. He thinks it's
Miss Ford, but he can't make the connection."

 "Can't I tell Lizzie Keckley that7" asked Mary. "She might
be able to pick something out of Anna where a white man,
like Baker, couldn't."

 "You're still after poor Sister Ford, eh7" asked Lincoln.
"Well, I reckon you ought to help if you can, and Lizzie is
mighty discreet."

 There was silence again, broken by Mary asking softly,
"Are you terribly discouraged, Abratm, about the
proclamations"

 "In a way, yesl I'm very anxious. So far its effect certainly
has been bad. Stocks have declined, and troops are coming
forward more slowly than ever. The attrition among the old
troops is outnumbering the addition by the new. There is a
lot of breath from the North about the proclamation, but
breath alone kills no Rebels. Since McClellan was removed
the morale of his army is very bad. And you know what the
Congress is up tol"

"What are you going to do, Abra'm7 I worry sol"

  "Dot I'm going to bide my time and keep my faith in the
goodness and common sense of the average citizen. In the
long run, they are bound to support me and their will is
what finally rules the world."

  And with this statement, Mary was obliged to be satisfied,
for Mr. Chase came in, obviously perturbed, and Lincoln set
his mind to solving the difficulties that had caused a crisis
between the Secretary of State and the Secretary of the
Treasury.

  Christmas came sorrowfully, for all save the children.
Taddie had a glorious time with such an excess of toys that
his mother was glad to see him in the basement sharing
them with the members of his Company. In the afternoon,
the President and Mrs. Lincoln held an informal reception
in the Blue Room. There was no crowd, but such a
continuous stream of callers that a lengthy talk with any one
of them was difficult..

  The stream was at its flood when John Hay, his eager face
unusually eager, appeared with his arm through that of a
bearded, carelessly dressed civilian in his early forties.

  "This, Mr. President," cried John triumphantly, "is a friend
whom you love but have not metl This is Walt Whitmanl"

  Lincoln felt his cheeks burn. "The prophet of democracy!"
he exclaimed, seizing Whitman's horny palm in both his
own, calloused as were the poet's. "How do you do, sirl
What brings you to Washington7"

  "I have a brother in a hospital here, Mr. President. He was
wounded at Fredericksburg and I'm nursing him. I shall stay
on and nurse others when he is better. A man is needed
there."

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 "Goodl Yesl" Lincoln put his shoulder against the pressing
crowd, and clung to Whitman's hand, while he sought for
some word that would express his gratitude to him. "Your
'Leaves of Grass,' Whitman, I know it by heart it has
helped me."

 A light as if he had suddenly been glorified leaped to the
poet's eyes. "I have known you a long time, my Captainl I
have learned the route you take when you get an afternoon
drive, and I stand on the corner and watch for you with
your face of the master. The arms of all of us who under-
stand are under you, lifting and sustaining you."

 He spoke with such earnestness and simplicity that Lincoln
felt a thrill of hope which sent the blood racing through his
tired pulses. He leaned toward the poet.

 "Are there enough who understand, Whitman, to save the
proclamation?" he asked.

 "Aye, more than enoughl They are modest, slow to speak,
but you will hear from all the brotherhood, the indissoluble
brotherhood, before the new year comes."

 The two men gave each other a long, unsmiling look, then
the poet passed on. Lincoln drew a deep, life-giving breath,
as though he had for a moment glimpsed final truth.

 But even the memory of Whitman could not much lighten
the suspense of the following week.

 All his pleading, all his threats had so far not moved the
slave States one inch toward taking advantage of the
opportunity offered in the proclamation. To be sure, Missouri
made pleasing gestures, and West Virginia joined the Union,
a free State. But gratifying as this was, it could have little
effect on the general situation. Since the removal of
McClellan, and the consequent collapse of the peace party's
hopes, a threatening silence had been the aspect presented by
the British. Lincoln found this silence puzzling. Russell, at
least, might have written, he thought.

 But Russell had not forgotten. On the last day of
December, when Lincoln was eagerly surveying the field for
every shred of support to be found in every utterance from
whatever source, a letter came from the war correspondent.

 "I have good news for you," he wrote. "I have just learned
that a paper in praise of the emancipation proclamation is
being circulated among the cotton workers in factories here,
and that already five thousand of these workers have signed
it. The signing is continuing. There is no doubt that among
the entire working class of England such a current of
anti-slavery feeling is rising that Mr. Gladstone and Lord
Russell are beginning to soften their cynical hostility to your
great principle."

 There was more in the letter, but this was the crux of it for
Lincoln. He marked the paragraph, and, with a great sigh,
handed the letter to Charles Sumner, who had been waiting
while he read it.

 "You see, Charles," said Lincoln, "while what I said in that
proclamation didn't go well at first, it promises to wear well."

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 Sumner's smile had something of tenderness in it as he
read the paragraph. "Yes, dear Mr. Lincoln, it promises to
wear welll And I have further good word for you. This
afternoon, by a test vote of 78 to 51 the House endorsed the
proclamation!"

 Lincoln could feel himself grow pale. "By sings, if nothing
breaks between now and the hrst, I'll finish this jobl"

 "There's nothing left to happen, sir," smiled Sumner,
serenely. "And once the edict of freedom is signed, you'll
find a fairly solid North behind you. Though the South may
hold out for more years than we can foresee, the day you
sign the edict will see the turning-point of the war toward
the North's inevitable victory."

 Lincoln heaved a great sigh. "I haven't been out of the
house for a week, Charlesl Reckon now I can go get myself
a little fresh air. Will you come along?"

 "I'm sorry, Mr. President, but I must return to the Capitol.
It's a glorious winter afternoon. Shall you take to the
saddler"

"Think I will, if I can duck Baker's cavalry." Lincoln smiled
wryly.

 A half hour later, Mary burst into the secretaries' room.
She was as white as the little lace collar at her neck.

"Where's Mr. Lincoln7" she screamed.

Both young men came to their feet.

 "He went for a ride across Long Bridge, I think," replied
Nicolay. "What's the trouble, Mrs. Lincoln7"

 Mary clutched her throat, and by an obvious physical
effort forced herself to speak coherently.

 "A plot to kidnap him before he signs the edictl Lizzie
Keckley got it from Anna, Miss Ford's maid."

 "They can't kidnap him when he's got a company of
cavalry at his heels," exclaimed John Hay, ringing the bell
violently nevertheless for Louis.

 "Did the escort go with him7" cried Mary. "He's always
evading theml I'll find out. I'll run to the stables."

 Nicolay put his hand on her arm. "We must keep our
heads, dear Mrs. Lincoln. The President mustn't come in
and find us all drowning in a teapot tempest."

 Louis came in at that moment and Hay sent him posthaste
for Colonel Baker, then flew to get what information he
could regarding Lincoln's movements. As Baker
appeared,-Louis had caught him in the White House
grounds,-John returned with word that Lincoln had gone out
afoot and alone. Old Daniel had supposed that he had
stepped over to Stanton's office. But Taddie had seen him
heading across LaFayette Square and guessed that he'd be
tramping out toward the Soldiers' Home.

Baker nodded coolly. "Why are you so uneasy, Mrs.
Lincoln7"

 "Lizzie Keckley just came into my room all out of breath,"
replied Mary, twisting her handkerchief, her eyes burning.
"Anna had come to her, crying, as Lizzie sat down in our
kitchen, eating her lunch. She'd

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just got wind of a plot, hatched by Miss Ford, Captain Taylor,
and, Anna claimed, 'some big white folks' in Richmond, to
kidnap Mr. Lincoln, take him South and hold him till he
agrees, she said, not to sign up the riggers' freedom. They've
been watching for a chance to get him alone. That's all I
know. Quickly, Colonel Bakerl Quickly or you'll be too later"

 "I thought I had impressed the President with just this
danger!" exclaimed Baker, running from the room.

 In the meantime, Lincoln had strolled out into the grounds
drawing deep breaths of the brilliant afternoon air. He looked
over his shoulders and grinned when he observed that he
actually had eluded Baker's shadows.

 "Reckon I'll go to a livery stable and hire a horse," he
murmured, "and ride out to the Soldiers' Home. Not enough
snow to matter out that road, and I'd like to see real country
trees for a spell."

 A flustered liveryman, half a mile out on F Street, supplied
a roan saddle horse and Lincoln, still unshadowed, as far as
he knew, started at a rapid trot upon the road which the last
eighteen months had made so familiar to him. He was obliged
to slow the roan's pace after a half hour's riding as the road,
rising gradually above Rock Creek valley, was clogged with
drifts. Before one of these Lincoln pulled up his horse, and
sat in contented contemplation of the great blue shadows
stretching across the snow-filled valley. The sky was flawless.
A crow flew over the fields and dropped like a black plummet
into the trees that lined the distant stream.

 Nothing that had occurred during his administration had
gratified Lincoln as had this act of the British workingmen.
The warm glow that had filled his heart as he read Russell's
letter he still felt and it lightened his burden by many pounds.

 A sudden cold wind, rising from the valley, roused him
from reverie. It was too late to continue the trip to the
Home. He turned the roan's head cityward. As he did so, a
man came out of the trees to the east of the road, a young
man in fashionable riding clothes. He was limping and snow
bedraggled.

Lincoln pulled up the roan. "Well, stranger!" he called, "had
a tumbler"

The young man answered breathlessly as if he had been
running.

 "Yes, sirl My horse bolted into the woods a mile below
here, and I only just got free from him. He threw me and
now refuses to move. Are you a judge of horses, sire"

"Roughly speaking, yes," replied Lincoln. "Is the animal
downy"

 "Not at all, sirl He stands gazing at the trees like an
arborealist. I wonder, if you are returning to the city, if you
could send another animal to met I have twisted my ankle."
The young man lifted an engaging dark face toward the
President.

 "He doesn't recognize me," thought Lincoln, enjoying the
encounter. Then aloud, "I'll do more than that, mister. I'll go
into the woods first and have a look at your balky friend."

"It's wretched going, sir." The stranger hesitated, then, as if
his scruples

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were overcome by the kindliness in Lincoln's smile, he
exclaimed, "Well, if you will be so kindl It's not more than
five minutes' walk."

Lincoln pushed the reluctant roan after the young stranger.

 There was little snow under the spruce and maples, but
the ground was boggy and uneven. Lincoln pulled up his
mount.

 "I don't blame your horse, stranger," he called. "Not safe
going in here for any animal. I reckon I won't be as much of
a Samaritan as I intended, for I can't risk a fall. I'll go back
to the city and send some one to you."

 The young man turned and stood in the green dusk of the
spruces with, it occurred to Lincoln, something
extraordinarily eager and anxious in his gaze.

 "It's only a step farther, sir," he urged, "and I'm in such
haste to get back to the CapitalI"

 The President hesitated, his common sense and caution,
struggling as usual with his kindness of impulse. And as he
hesitated, Colonel Baker, on a dapple grey stallion, hurtled
through the trees and brought up beside him.

 "Get back into the road, Mr. Lincolnl" he ordered,
covering the young man with his pistol as he spoke. "We've
got the others, over in the swamp."

 The President blinked, grunted and did not move. "What's
the excitement about?" he demanded.

 "Tell you laterl Get back to the road, Mr. Lincoln, and tell
Lieutenant Griffith it's all right. I'll follow as soon as I've
handcuffed this lad."

 "Looks as if I'd stepped into something," murmured
Lincoln, obediently turning his horse.

 The lieutenant with three other cavalrymen saluted him as
the roan leaped the ditch into the road.

"Gave you the slip, didn't I, boysl" laughed the President.

"Only by a half hour, sir," replied the lieutenant.

"What's happened7" asked Lincoln.

  "A plot to kidnap you, sir, to keep you from signing the
edict of freedom. Mrs. Lincoln heard of it, and got it to
Baker. We had no trouble trailing you, but it was pure luck
that we pulled up when Colonel Baker saw you through the
glasses, negotiating with young Cromwell. We've been
watching him for weeks. Think he is a messenger between
the Old Capitol Prison and Richmond.

  "I need a nurse, all right, Lieutenant," sighed Lincoln.
"Here comes the rest of them," as a group of cavalrymen
rode out of the roads into the red afterglow. "Who are the
prisoners, Baker?" he added, as the Colonel rode up at the
head of the troop and he caught a glimpse of several men in
civilian clothes in their midst.

  "Captain Taylor's one, and young Cromwell another,"
replied Baker. "1 haven't identified the other four."

  "Sure one of them isn't Miss Ford in disguiser" added
Lincoln, smiling grimly, as he started the roan off beside the
detective.

Baker returned the smile. "I'll bet my leg and arm she's
inspired every

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one of these men to this job. If the Rebels hadn't got hold of
two of my best women and would make reprisal on them, I'd
accidentally hang Miss FordlShe's the most lucid crazy
woman I ever knew. Can outwit any three men now. Lots
more to be accomplished by kidnaping you, you know, than
by assassinating your"

 Lincoln rode heavily beside the colonel, all the glow of the
afternoon dead within him. All the superstition in his nature
had been roused and he was suddenly filled with a conviction
that, somehow, Miss Ford would prevent him from signing
the edict. For a moment, he found himself wishing that she
could meet the just fate of a spy. But only for a moment.
Willie had died in her armst Was there no appeal he could
make to her ? Perhaps, if he could talk to her, once more

 He turned to Baker, dim in the winter starlight. "Colonel,
I'd like a word with Miss Ford. Will you take me to her this
evening?"

 The colonel hesitated. "I hope you won't insist on that, sir.
It will excite her terribly and no good can come of it."

 The idea that, somehow, he could subdue her had now
taken arm hold of Lincoln.

"I reckon you'll have to let me talk to her, Baker," he said.

"Very well, Mr. President," reluctantly, "to-morrow."

 "To-morrow!" cried the President, impatiently. "By
to-morrow she'll have poisoned me or kidnaped me. She's
welcome to me, after I've signed up. But until then, I'm a
precious cargo for the ship of State. I'll see her to-night
before I go to bed."

 Baker half groaned an uneasy, "Yes, Mr. PresidentI" adding,
"I'll have to examine these prisoners, then I'll come for you
with what information I can of her share in this."

 "I don't need the information, Baker. I know. The woman
is my evil genius. I'm going to make her understand that her
desires and those of the Almighty differ radically in this
matter."

 He felt as if some bitter shadow was engulfing him, all the
vicious forces of anti-slavery focused on him, he thought,
through this woman. Every slaveholder in the South thinking
of him with hatred, and hoping he would die before the dawn
of the next day! He was glad to reach the White House and
the sanctuary of the sitting room, glad to have Mary scold
him and weep over him, fondle him and tuck him up on the
sofa before the fire while she sat beside him, holding his hand
and stroking his hair.

 "What you ought to do to me is to stand me in the corner
for an hour with a dunce-cap on," he said, as the bleak feeling
in his heart eased a little.

 "Dunce-cap!" exclaimed Mary, scornfully, as she kissed him.
"I'd have used that long ago if I'd thought it would affect
your"

 He lay for a short time, enjoying her ministrations, then
rose and went to his office, where his draft of the edict of
freedom awaited his final attention. He worked on this until
supper time, and after the meal was

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finished, went at it again, copying and recopying it, changing
a word here, the punctuation there, rearranging sentences,
listening as he worked, for Baker's arrival.

  At midnight, a messenger came from the colonel, with a
laconic note. Miss Ford had escaped from the Old Capitol
Prison. Lincoln compressed his lips, and returned to his work
on the edict. He made no comment when John Hay, looking
in about one o'clock, remarked that there were enough
detective police in the White House to fill the vacancies in
the Army of the Potomac. About three' he took his Bible to
bed with him. He slept uneasily, always with the vague
consciousness of evil hopes and plans oppressing him.

  The New Year's Day reception was scheduled to begin at
eleven o'clock in the morning. Mary tearfully implored him
not to attend it, but Lincoln by this time had achieved a
fatalistic calm, quite different from his normal half-humorous
self-possession, but none the less effective for that. Nothing,
he reiterated to Mary, could change God Almighty's plans.

  "He's going to let me sign this paper, Mary. What becomes
of me after that needn't worry us. I don't imagine it worries
Himl Let me see if I can't get the corrections done on it
before I have to go down to the Blue Room. It could have
a very bad effect on the country if I were to absent myself
from an official reception as important as that."

  He worked vigorously, revising the engrossed copy of the
edict, until Mary, very handsome in a black grosgrain silk
trimmed with beaded passementerie, came to fetch him.

  For three hours, he shook hands with an unending,
never-pausing stream of people. The line was showing no
sign of attenuation, when, about two o'clock, Baker came up
behind him and whispered in his ear:

"We've got herl"

  With one great stride, Lincoln stepped back of the bank of
ferns and fuchsias before which he had been established,
carrying the detective police with him.

"Where is she, Colonel?"

  "In the basement. She got a job as an extra rigger, a man
waiter, for to-day. She cut her hair, blacked her face. I didn't
recognize her myself till they washed her up." The usually
cool and unemotional Baker wiped his dripping forehead.
"Never put in such a night in my lifer I absolutely knew we'd
find her in this building."

"So did Il" nodded Lincoln. "Let me see her now, Baker."

  The detective looked up into Lincoln's face. "Not
necessary, sir. She's deadl"

"Deadl" gasped the President. "Who slipped on that,
Colonel7"

  "She did herself," replied Baker, dryly. "Her disguise was so
good that one of the nigger wenches in the kitchen tried to
kiss her. For the first time, Miss Ford broke through her
part. She slapped the wench and there was a mix-up during
which Miss Ford received a knife in her back. It

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wasn't till then my men came tol Sometimes," with bitter
sincerity, "I wonder why a detective thinks he has any chance
beating fate."

"I want to see her, Baker," insisted Lincoln.

 "Very well, sir, that can be managed. We'll work back
through the state dining room." He led the way down the
servants' staircase crowded with hurrying waiters, through the
kitchen where great kettles of coffee steamed to the low
ceiling, through the sculleries where half a dozen black
wenches slopped cups and spoons about in tubs of water, to
the woodshed, where was the clean smell of chips and
kindling.

 Near the open doors, through which one saw the wintry
kitchen garden, the seedling table had been dragged and on
it under a red checked kitchen tablecloth lay the unmistakable
outline of death. A uniformed guard moved out into the
areaway, at a nod from Baker, leaving the President and the
Colonel alone. Lincoln turned the covering back.

 The dye had disappeared and the short hair that clustered
round her face was chestnut again. She was curiously
unchanged, her beauty unmarred.

 The President, arms folded on his breast, stared down at
her. She had been removed, his evil geniusl How unutterably
just were the methods of Heaven, which had permitted her
own desperate antipathies and desires to bring her to her endl
And yet, had it not been for the blight of slavery, how lovely,
what a supreme work of the Creator, she would have been.
Lincoln felt his eyes sting and there were tears on his cheeks
when he turned to Baker.

 "My children loved her. Willie died in her arms. Baker, I
want you to get her a decent coffin at my expense, and see
that she gets buried out on her plantation where the rest of
her folks lie. Will you do that for me, Colonel?"

 "Yes, sirl I'm glad to," replied Baker, promptly. "She was
the cleverest spy I ever ran up against and I'd just as soon
show my respect for her ability as not."

Lincoln lifted the tablecloth back over the face.

 He did not return to the Blue Room but went up to his
office. He closed the door behind him and stood looking
about him. He had the feeling of one who after a tremendous
and dangerous journey, has reached his goal. The details of
his office, for so many months unheeded, suddenly appealed
to him as curiously pleasant. A rich coal fire crackled in the
grate, casting a red glow on the scarred oak Cabinet table and
on the two dogs, Sumter and Pensacola, sleeping before it.
Snowflakes drifted thickly past the window and their hush was
no deeper than the sudden peace that lay on his heart. He
was to be permitted to achieve the great beneficence. Now,
Lord, let Thy servant depart in peace.

 There were a dozen people in the room who had risen at
his entrance; members of his Cabinet, his young secretaries,
Mary and Taddie. He smiled at them and moved toward the
edict, which lay at one end of the Cabinet table. He rubbed
his right hand vigorously.

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 "These fingers are almost useless from handshaking," he
said. "Mustn't let my hand seem not to be firm when I do
this job."

 He sat down slowly and read several paragraphs aloud
wondering if they were as nearly perfect as he could make
them. He was not completely satisfied but at the moment
could think of nothing more to add or subtract:

 ". . . I do order and declare that all persons held as slaves
within said designated States, and parts of States, are, and
henceforward shall be free; and that the Executive
government of the United States, including the military and
naval authorities thereof, will recognize and maintain the
freedom of said persons.... And upon this act, sincerely
believed to be an act of justice, warranted by the
Constitution, upon military necessity, I invoke the
considerate judgment of mankind, and the gracious favor of
Almighty God.

 "In witness whereof, I have hereunto set my hand and
caused the seal of the United States to be affixed."

He lifted his pen.

"Let me hold the ink bottle, Papa dayl" cried Taddie. "Let
met"

 The little fellow eagerly lifted the ink from his father's
desk and held it while Lincoln dipped in the pen and wrote,
firmly,

 "Done at the city of Washington, this first day of January,
in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and
sixty-three, and of the Independence of the United States of
America the eighty-seventh.

ABRABAM L}Ncor N.