One morning, Secretary Seward found him walking his room with a most distressed appearance in his face, when he inquired if the President were not well.

“This dreadful news from the boys has banished sleep and appetite,” he answered. “Not a moment’s sleep last night, nor a crumb of food this morning!”

It was the grief of a father over his fallen sons,—sincere and tender as that of a mother.

At another time, the news of a heavy loss in a hard-fought battle caused him to bury his face in his hands, saying,—

“I shall never more be glad!”

Dr. Holland says of Mr. Lincoln and the soldiers:—

“With the soldiers who were fighting the battles of the country, he had the deepest sympathy. Whenever he was congratulated upon a success, he never failed to allude gratefully to the noble men who had won it. The trials of these men,—their sacrifices of comfort and health, of limb and life,—touched him with a sympathy that really sapped the foundations of his constitution. They were constantly in his thoughts; and not a battle was fought to whose sacrifices his own vitality did not contribute. He admired the fighting man, and looked upon him as, in one sense, his superior. Although he did not plead guilty to the weakness of moral cowardice, he felt that the battle-field was a fearful place, from which, unaided by its special inspirations, he should run. Indeed, Mr. Lincoln did not give himself credit for the physical courage which he really possessed, though he had probably grown timid with his failing strength.

“This sympathy with the soldiers he manifested in many ways, and in none more than in the treatment of their offences against military law. In a letter to the author, a personal friend of the President says: ‘I called on him one day in the early part of the war. He had just written a pardon for a young man who had been sentenced to be shot, for sleeping at his post as a sentinel. He remarked as he read it to me:—

“ ‘I could not think of going into eternity with the blood of the poor young man on my skirts.’ Then he added:—

“ ‘It is not to be wondered at that a boy, raised on a farm, probably in the habit of going to bed at dusk, should, when required to watch, fall asleep; and I cannot consent to shoot him for such an act.’

“This story with its moral is made complete by the Rev. Newman Hall, of London, who, in a sermon preached after and upon Mr. Lincoln’s death, says that the dead body of this youth was found among the slain on the field of Fredericksburg, wearing next his heart a photograph of his preserver, beneath which the grateful fellow had written, ‘God bless President Lincoln!’ From the same sermon another anecdote is gleaned, of a similar character, which is evidently authentic. An officer of the army, in conversation with the preacher, said: ‘The first week of our command, there were twenty-four deserters sentenced by courtmartial to be shot, and the warrants for their execution were sent to the President to be signed. He refused. I went to Washington and had an interview. I said: “Mr. President, unless these men are made an example of, the army itself is in danger. Mercy to the few is cruelty to the many.”

“ ‘Mr. General,’ he replied, ‘there are already too many weeping widows in the United States. For God’s sake, don’t ask me to add to the number, for I won’t do it.’ ”

As Dr. Holland intimates, President Lincoln was deeply impressed by deeds of daring, and he never lost sight of officer or private who distinguished himself in raid or battle. At a time when he was very much depressed in consequence of defeats, instead of victories, to the national arms, the news of successes in the Department of the West was brought to him. The battle of Chickamauga had been fought, and