Francis B. Carpenter, Six Months at the White House

[322] woman. It appeared that she had gone herself to the front, with the President's order, and found the son she was in search of had been mortally wounded in a recent engagement, and taken to a hospital. She found the hospital, but the boy was dead, or died while she was there. The surgeon in charge made a memorandum of the facts upon the back of the President's order, and almost broken-hearted, the poor woman had found her way again into Mr. Lincoln's presence. He was much affected by her appearance and story, and said: “I know what you wish me to do now, and I shall do it without your asking; I shall release to you your second son.” Upon this, he took up his pen and commenced writing the order. While he was writing the poor woman stood by his side, the tears running down her face, and passed her hand softly over his head, stroking his rough hair, as I have seen a fond mother caress a son. By the time he had finished writing, his own heart and eyes were full. He handed her the paper: “Now,” said he, “you have one and I one of the other two left: that is no more than right.” She took the paper, and reverently placing her hand again upon his head, the tears still upon her cheeks, said: “The Lord bless you, Mr. Lincoln. May you live a thousand years, and may you always be the head of this great nation!”