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Browsing named entities in a specific section of Francis B. Carpenter, Six Months at the White House. Search the whole document.

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Brooklyn (New York, United States) (search for this): chapter 7
their lives from the same source, and it was founded in sterling honesty. Their modes of thought and illustration were remarkably alike. It is not strange that they should have been bosom friends. The President called repeatedly to see him during his illness; and it was on one of these occasions that he said to him, This war is eating my life out; I have a strong impression that I shall not live to see the end. Mr. Lovejoy's health subsequently improved, and for a change he went to Brooklyn, N. Y., where, it will be remembered, he had a relapse, and died, universally mourned as one of the truest and most faithful of our statesmen. Mr. Lincoln did not hear from him directly after he left Washington. Through a friend I learned by letter that he was lying at the point of death. This intelligence I communicated to the President the same evening, in the vestibule of the White House,--meeting him on his way to the War Department. He was deeply affected by it. His only words were,
Washington (United States) (search for this): chapter 7
VI. On the evening of February 4th, 1864, I went to Washington. Shortly after noon of the following day, I rang the bell at Mr. Lovejoy's residence on Fifteenth Street. To my sorrow, I found him very ill; but it was hoped by his friends that he was then improving. Though very feeble, he insisted upon seeing me, and calling for writing materials, sat up in bed to indite a note introducing me to the President. This, handed to me open; I read. One expression I have not forgotten, it was soved, and for a change he went to Brooklyn, N. Y., where, it will be remembered, he had a relapse, and died, universally mourned as one of the truest and most faithful of our statesmen. Mr. Lincoln did not hear from him directly after he left Washington. Through a friend I learned by letter that he was lying at the point of death. This intelligence I communicated to the President the same evening, in the vestibule of the White House,--meeting him on his way to the War Department. He was dee
Tunstall (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 7
. Mr. Lincoln did not hear from him directly after he left Washington. Through a friend I learned by letter that he was lying at the point of death. This intelligence I communicated to the President the same evening, in the vestibule of the White House,--meeting him on his way to the War Department. He was deeply affected by it. His only words were, Lovejoy was the best friend I had in Congress. To return from this pardonable digression,--I took the note of introduction at once to the WhWhite House; but no opportunity was afforded me of presenting it during the day. The following morning passed with the same result, and I then resolved to avail myself of Mrs. Lincoln's Saturday afternoon reception — at which, I was told, the President would be present — to make myself known to him. Two o'clock found me one of the throng pressing toward the centre of attraction, the blue room. From the threshold of the crimson parlor as I passed, I had a glimpse of the gaunt figure of Mr. Lincol
Abraham Lincoln (search for this): chapter 7
ntroducing me to the President. This, handed to me open; I read. One expression I have not forgotten, it was so like Mr. Lincoln himself, as I afterward came to know him. I am gaining very slowly.--It is hard work drawing the sled up-hill. And thremembered, he had a relapse, and died, universally mourned as one of the truest and most faithful of our statesmen. Mr. Lincoln did not hear from him directly after he left Washington. Through a friend I learned by letter that he was lying at thresenting it during the day. The following morning passed with the same result, and I then resolved to avail myself of Mrs. Lincoln's Saturday afternoon reception — at which, I was told, the President would be present — to make myself known to him. Ttraction, the blue room. From the threshold of the crimson parlor as I passed, I had a glimpse of the gaunt figure of Mr. Lincoln in the distance, haggard-looking, dressed in black, relieved only by the prescribed white gloves; standing, it seemed
Owen Lovejoy (search for this): chapter 7
the evening of February 4th, 1864, I went to Washington. Shortly after noon of the following day, I rang the bell at Mr. Lovejoy's residence on Fifteenth Street. To my sorrow, I found him very ill; but it was hoped by his friends that he was then g very slowly.--It is hard work drawing the sled up-hill. And this suggests the similarity there was between these men. Lovejoy had much more of the agitator, the reformer, in his nature, but both drew the inspiration of their lives from the same sthat he said to him, This war is eating my life out; I have a strong impression that I shall not live to see the end. Mr. Lovejoy's health subsequently improved, and for a change he went to Brooklyn, N. Y., where, it will be remembered, he had a re of the White House,--meeting him on his way to the War Department. He was deeply affected by it. His only words were, Lovejoy was the best friend I had in Congress. To return from this pardonable digression,--I took the note of introduction at
February 4th, 1864 AD (search for this): chapter 7
VI. On the evening of February 4th, 1864, I went to Washington. Shortly after noon of the following day, I rang the bell at Mr. Lovejoy's residence on Fifteenth Street. To my sorrow, I found him very ill; but it was hoped by his friends that he was then improving. Though very feeble, he insisted upon seeing me, and calling for writing materials, sat up in bed to indite a note introducing me to the President. This, handed to me open; I read. One expression I have not forgotten, it was so like Mr. Lincoln himself, as I afterward came to know him. I am gaining very slowly.--It is hard work drawing the sled up-hill. And this suggests the similarity there was between these men. Lovejoy had much more of the agitator, the reformer, in his nature, but both drew the inspiration of their lives from the same source, and it was founded in sterling honesty. Their modes of thought and illustration were remarkably alike. It is not strange that they should have been bosom friends. The Pr