when my attention was attracted by the sad patient face of a woman advanced in life, who in a faded hood and shawl was among the applicants for an interview. Presently Mr. Lincoln turned to her, saying in his accustomed manner, “Well, my good woman, what can I do for you this morning?” “Mr. President,” said she, “my husband and three sons all went into the army. My husband was killed in the fight at-. I get along very badly since then, living all alone, and I thought I would come and ask you to release to me my oldest son.” Mr. Lincoln looked into her face a moment, and in his kindest accents responded, “Certainly! certainly! If you have given us all, and your prop has been taken away, you are justly entitled to one of your boys!” He immediately made out an order discharging the young man, which the woman took, and thanking him gratefully, went away. I had forgotten the circumstance, “continued M-,” till last week, when happening to be here again, who should come in but the same
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and simplicity than that given to me the last evening I passed at the White House, in the office of the private secretary, by a resident of Washington,1 who witnessed the scene.
“I was waiting my turn to speak to the President one day, some three or four weeks since,” said Mr. M-,
1 Mr. Murtagh, of the Washington Republican.
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