Another writer adds: “At night, from ten to twelve, he usually makes a tour all round,—now at Secretary Seward’s, and then at General Halleck’s; and, if General Burnside was nearer, he would see him each night before he went to bed. Those who know his habits, and want to see him late at night, follow him round from place to place; and the last search generally brings him up at General Halleck’s, as he can get the latest army intelligence there. Whoever else is asleep or indolent, the President is wide awake and around.”

How a public servant, under such a constant pressure of care, could find time to listen to every complaint of soldiers and their friends, many of the cases requiring much time to investigate, and also visit hospitals and go to the front to “see how the boys are getting along,” the reader can scarcely understand. But he did, as the very interesting incidents we shall relate abundantly show. There is evidence that his heart was not so thoroughly absorbed in any other department of his work as it was in this. He fully realized that the life of the nation hung upon the life of the soldier—that the appeal from the ballot to the bullet was a dire necessity—hence, he thought, “the highest merit is due to the soldier;” and he never belied that sentiment. To the day of his death he treated soldiers as if they were really of more consequence, in the fearful crisis, than governors and senators. On one occasion, when there was so great a crowd at one of his receptions that hand-shaking was discontinued, the President stood and bowed his acknowledgments to senators and representatives; but finally, observing a wounded soldier enter with his poorly-clad mother, he hastily left his position, crowded his way to the couple, and taking them both by the hand, he gave them a most cordial welcome, congratulating the woman upon having so patriotic a son, and expressing his sympathy for the son in his disabled condition. It was a very affecting demonstration, and it brought tears to the eyes of many spectators. The President simply acted what he had said again and again, “the highest merit is due to the soldier.” All who witnessed the hearty greeting were satisfied that Mr. Lincoln meant what he said.

In this, and other incidents to be related, the true Republican simplicity of Mr. Lincoln’s character appears. Official distinction obtruded no barrier between his own honest heart and that of the brave and true soldier.

One day he was going through a passage-way to his private room for a cup of tea, when he heard the cry of a child. He returned immediately to his office, and rang the bell; Daniel responded promptly.

“Daniel, is there a woman with a baby in the ante-room?”

“There is, Mr. President; and she has been there three days,” Daniel replied. “There has been no chance for her to get in.”

“Go at once, and send her to me,” he said, adding some words of regret that she had been overlooked.

The woman, with the baby in her arms, was soon in his presence, pleading for her husband, who was sentenced to be shot as a deserter from the army. There were several extenuating circumstances, and the President granted her request, writing his decision upon a slip of paper.

“There, my dear woman,” he said, “you take that, and it will bring back your husband,” at the same time directing her where to go with the document. Convulsive sobs of joy were all the response the glad woman could make as she retired. Daniel went up to her and pulled her shawl, saying, “Madam, it was the baby that did it.”

The Hon. W. D. Kelley said to the President, “There is a lad on the gunboat Ottawa who has shown the mettle of a man in two serious engagements. Can you not send him to the naval school? You have the authority to send three boys there annually, who have served one year in the navy.”

“Perhaps so,” responded the President; “let me hear more about it.” Mr. Kelley rehearsed, in detail, the heroic deeds of the boy.