that Mr. Lincoln wanted Davis to escape,
"unbeknown" to him.

I made no notes of this conversation at the time, but Admiral
Porter, who was present, did, and in 1866 he furnished me an
account thereof, which I insert below, but the admiral describes
the first visit, of the 27th, whereas my memory puts Admiral
Porter's presence on the following day. Still he may be right, and
he may have been with us the day before, as I write this chiefly
from memory. There were two distinct interviews; the first was
late in the afternoon of March 27th, and the other about noon of
the 28th, both in the after-cabin of the steamer River Queen; on
both occasions Mr. Lincoln was full and frank in his conversation,
assuring me that in his mind he was all ready for the civil
reorganization of affairs at the South as soon as the war was over;
and he distinctly authorized me to assure Governor Vance and the
people of North Carolina that, as soon as the rebel armies laid
down their arms, and resumed their civil pursuits, they would at
once be guaranteed all their rights as citizens of a common
country; and that to avoid anarchy the State governments then in
existence, with their civil functionaries, would be recognized by
him as the government de facto till Congress could provide others.

I know, when I left him, that I was more than ever impressed by his
kindly nature, his deep and earnest sympathy with the afflictions
of the whole people, resulting from the war, and by the march of
hostile armies through the South; and that his earnest desire
seemed to be to end the war speedily, without more bloodshed or
devastation, and to restore all the men of both sections to their
homes. In the language of his second inaugural address, he seemed
to have "charity for all, malice toward none," and, above all, an
absolute faith in the courage, manliness, and integrity of the
armies in the field. When at rest or listening, his legs and arms
seemed to hang almost lifeless, and his face was care-worn and
haggard; but, the moment he began to talk, his face lightened up,
his tall form, as it were, unfolded, and he was the very
impersonation of good-humor and fellowship. The last words I
recall as addressed to me were that he would feel better when I was
back at Goldsboro'. We parted at the gangway of the River Queen,
about noon of March 28th, and I never saw him again. Of all the
men I ever met, he seemed to possess more of the elements of
greatness,