: I don't altogether agree with the President. But he's the
only man I should agree with at all.

_Hook_: To issue the proclamation now, and that's what he will
propose, mark my words, will be to confuse the public mind just when
we want to keep it clear.

_Welles_: Are you sure he will propose to issue it now?

_Hook_: You see if he doesn't.

_Welles_: If he does I shall support him.

_Seward_: Is Lee's army broken?

_Stanton_: Not yet--but it is in grave danger.

_Hook_: Why doesn't the President come? One would think this news was
nothing.

_Chase_: I must say I'm anxious to know what he has to say about it
all.

A CLERK _comes in_.

_Clerk_: The President's compliments, and he will be here in a moment.

_He goes_.

_Hook_: I shall oppose it if it comes up.

_Chase_: He may say nothing about it.

_Seward_: I think he will.

_Stanton_: Anyhow, it's the critical moment.

_Blair_: Here he comes.

LINCOLN _comes in carrying a small book_.

_Lincoln_: Good-morning, gentlemen.

_He takes his place_.

_The Ministers_: Good-morning, Mr. President.

_Seward_: Great news, we hear.

_Hook_: If we leave things with the army to take their course for a
little now, we ought to see through our difficulties.

_Lincoln_: It's an exciting morning, gentlemen. I feel rather excited
myself. I find my mind not at its best in excitement. Will you allow
me?

_Opening his book_.

It may compose us all. It is Mr. Artemus Ward's latest.

THE MINISTERS, _with the exception of_ HOOK, _who makes no attempt to
hide his irritation, and_ STANTON, _who would do the same but for
his disapproval of_ HOOK, _listen with good-humoured patience and
amusement while he reads the following passage from Artemus Ward_.

"High Handed Outrage at Utica."

"In the Faul of 1856, I showed my show in Utiky, a trooly grate city
in the State of New York. The people gave me a cordyal recepshun. The
press was loud in her prases. 1 day as I was givin a descripshun of
my Beests and Snaiks in my usual flowry stile what was my skorn and
disgust to see a big burly feller walk up to the cage containin my wax
figgers of the Lord's last Supper, and cease Judas Iscarrot by the
feet and drag him out on the ground. He then commenced fur to pound
him as hard as he cood."

"'What under the son are you abowt,' cried I."

"Sez he, 'What did you bring this pussylanermus cuss here fur?' and he
hit the wax figger another tremenjis blow on the bed."