The Potter journal. [volume] (Coudersport, Pa.) 1857-1872, 1866-11-06
The Last Receptions of the Great
President.
BY GRACE GREENWOOD.

last morning reception OF the season, III Cue
White House; taking with me my little
daughter, who had an intense desire to see
the good President who had set the poor
slaves free.
| had not seen Mr.. Lincoln for more than
a year, and, as l drew near to where he
stood, going patiently through his weary,
monotonous task of Misunderstanding, | won
dered if he would remember my face among
the countless faces that had beset and be-
seiged him, or passed in mute review before
him, since the pleasant evening on which |
had conversed most freely with him, and
heard most of his easy, charming, cordial
talk. But, before l could be presented he
gave me a shock of pleasant surprise by
stretching his hand over the shoulder OF a
gentleman with whom he was conVersing
and greeting me by name, with the smile
and tone of an old friend. When he per
ceived little A., the pleasant look of a
true child-loyer came into his sad eyes. as
this your little daughter?" he said. "How
do you do, dear?" AS he took her hand,
the child raised to his face large, brown
ewes, full of tender reverence, The look
seemed to touch him; he smiled a smile
that was a benediction, then bent, and
kissed her.
She blushed, but said nothing till we had
passed on step or two, when she eXcIalm-
ed, "Why, he is only a man, after all"
Something in the tone struck the Presl-
dent, and he asked what she had said.
When repeated the naive remark, his worn
face was again lit by that sudden smile Of
quaint, kindly humor so peculiar to him
that flash of soul sunshine that, once seen,
could never be forgotten.
l had not the opportunity to tell Mr..
Lincoln of a scene in the past which this
little incident brought to my mind. In a
noble old New England town, years on
years ago. there was once great gathering
of people, to see no less a parsonage than
the first great President of the Republic,
who was to be received and entertained by
the noble governor of the State,-the
"Brother Jonathan" Of the Revolution. AT
last he came-the beloved, the hero with
out stain, the patriot without flaw, the
matchIess gentleman, slowly riding beside
the good governor, between ranks of soldiers
and crowds of citizens, bowing graciousIy
though somewhat coldIy, to the right and
left of him.
"Oh, father" cried little dark-eyed boy
to gentleman who held him by the hand,
81 can't see him! Please lift me up, so
that | can look over the peoples heads" ="
The kind gentleman lifted him high in his
arms and the child looked full in the face
of Washington. AS he did so, his own
eager countenance fell, and he exclaimed,
"Why father, he is nothing but man, after
allm
Washington heard, paused a moment,
and, with an amused smile, replied to the
child, Yes my little lad, nothing but
man."
1t seemed to me an odd coincidence that,
at sight of our Second Washington, my
little daughter had repeated the simple
thought aud almost the words of her grand
father.
1t was somewhat more than year from
this time before we again looked on the face
of the great President. But now no smile,
no cordial word greeted the friend; no kiss
welcomed the child. 1t was at one Of those
last, silent, solemn receptions which he gave
to the people, as he journeyed homeward,
leaving the wide land in a great shadow of
mourning. We saw him in that most fit
ting resting place of all on that long sad
journey, independence Hall.
1t so happened that general officer in
command of the military escort was a good
friend of ours, and by him we we intro
duced into the hall by private entrance,
thus AVOIDING the terrible crush Of the vast
crowd admitted from the street
We remained as long as we desired to in
tie chamber, aud were able to contemplate
the face of the President from almost every
point of view. A fine gray dust was con-
tinualIy settling upon it, and at first that
strange, cold, ashen look chilled and disap-
pointed me; but gradually much of the old
expression came back to that marked head,
to those features, so individual, so powerful,
and so manly. You missed the dark, soft,
benignant eyes; but Gods peace,not mans
violence, seemed to have pressed down the
weary lids into welcome rest. There was
cloak of patient serenity and forgiyingness
about the face, most touching and peculiar
The hands seemed to have dropped into
just such a tired position as had en- them
fall into in brief intervals of weary hand
shaking. Yet he seemed to be graciously
receiving MS all, though SO muteIy and with
no token of welcome.
General C took our little girl in his
arms, and stood with her for some minutes
at the head of the coffin, and she looked
sorrowfully down on the great President,