Public ledger. [volume] (Memphis, Tenn.) 1865-1893, 1869-09-06

| the busy Secretary cut him short with
another impossible" from which there
was absolutely no appeal He went forth
from his presence, and returned TO the
! ! hotel, quite overwhelmed.
Fortunately he was that afternoon
visited by friend, to whom he told the
story of his unsuccessful application and
sad perplexity, and who Immediately ex-
claimed, why not apply to the Presi.
! dent?"
The colonel had but little hope, but
acknowledging that the plan was worth
trying drove to the White House.
They were too late. 1t was Saturday
evening, and Mr.. Lincoln had gone to
spend Sunday at Soldiers Rest, his sum-
mer retreat. This was but few miles
from town, and the Colonel indomitable
friend proposed that they should follow
him out, and they went. There was then
popular belief that all the wronged,
the troubled and the suffering could find
refuge in Father Abraham's csps-
cious BOSOM" belief that was not fer
out of the way. Yet there were times
when overburdened, wearied, tortured,
the patriarch longing 70 clear that
asylum of its forlorn inmates, to bolt
and bar and double lock it against the
world; times when life became too hard
and perplexing for his genial, honest
nature, too serious and tragic and ras-
cally thing by half.
1t happened, unluckily, that the poor
Colonel and his friend found tie Pres-
dent in one of his most respondent and
disgusting moods. He was in his little
private parlor, alone in the cleaning.
He was lounging loosely in large rock
ing chair, jutting over it in all directions.
His slippered feet were exalted, his
rough head was thrown back, his long
throat bare-he was in his shirt-sleeves.
Yes, dear, fastidious English reader, it
was genuine Yankee abandon-make
the most of it.
He turned upon his visitors with look
of almost savage inquiry. There was,
indeed, in his usually pleasant eyes, q
wild, angry gleam-a something like the
glare of worried animal at bay.
Colonel Scott proceeded very modestly
to tell his story; but the President inter-
rupted him, to say bruseuely: go to
Stanton; this is his business"
81 have been to him, Mr. President,
and he will do nothing for me"
"Yoa have been to him and got your
answer, and still presume to come to me !
Am l to have no rest Pho privacy :?
Must / be dogged to my last fastness
and worried to death by inches2 Mr..
Stanton has done just right. He knows
what he is about. Your demands are un-
reasonable, sir"
"But, Mr.. Lincoln, l thought you
would feel for me"
"Feel for you'll Good God have to
feel for five hundred thousand more un.
fortunate than you. We are a: war, sir !;
don't you know we are at war; Sorrow
is the lot of all; bear your share like a
man and soldier"
~ try to, Mr.. President, but it seems
hard. Ny devoted wife lost her life from
coming to nurse me in my sickness, and
cannot even take her body home to my
children"
swell, she ought not to have come
down to the army. She couli have
STAYED at home. That is the place for
women. But if they will 90 tearing
about the country, in such times as these,
and running into all sorts of danger,
they must take the consequences Not
but that am sorry for you, Colonel. As
for your wife, she 8 at rest, and wish l
were."
Saying this the President leaned back
YEARLY in bis chair, and closed his eyes,
not noticing. except by slight wave of
his hand, the departure Of his visitors.
/ am not ashamed to confess that my
hero tossed restlessly that night upon
pillow wet with many tears; that he was
desperate and resentful, utterly unre-
signed to the DEGREES of Providence and
the War Department; and that he thought
Abraham Lincoln as hard as be was
ugly, and as inhuman as he was un-
calmly.
Towards morning he fell asleep, and
slept late. Before he was fully dressed
there came q quick knock at the door of
his chamber, and be opened it to Presi-
dent Lincoln
The good man came forward, pale and
eager, tears glistening in his eyes, and
grssped the ColonePs hand, saying, " /
treated you brutslly last night. ask
your pardon. / was utterly tired out,
bsdgered to death. / generally become
about as savage as wildcat
by Saturday night, drained dry of the
milk of human kindness. l must have
seemed to you the very gorilla the rebels
paint me. / was sorry enough for 1t
when you were gone. could not sleep
moment last night, so / thought would
drive into town in the cool OF the morn
ing and make it all right Fortunately,
l had little difficulty in finding you.
"This is very good of you, Mr.. Presi-
dent" said the Colonel, deeply moved.
mo, it isn't; but that was very bad OF
me last night. never should have for
given myself il l should have left that
piece Of ugly work stand. That was
noble wife Of yours, Colonel You were
a happy man to have such noblewoman
to love you; and you must be a good fel-
low, or such q woman would never have
risked so much for you. And what grand
women there are in these times, Colonel
what angels Of devotion and mercy, and
how brave aud pluckyl-goiug every
where at the call Of duty, facing every