done seed him at de end ob
de fight, and Marse Sam was on de mos' _retreatenist_ hoss in de
army.'"

"Thank God, we do not have to live over those first days of the war,"
said Boyd devoutly. "They tried men's souls."

"Ah, I do thank God," the President sighed wearily. His surroundings
faded from view. Instead, he saw the awful carnage of a battlefield. In
his ears sounded the thunder of guns; the cheers of the victors; and
the moans of the dying. With an effort, he put such thoughts from him.
"And yet those days had their comic side, Doctor; even tragedy grins
occasionally. I recollect that a regiment, who wore the uniform of
Highlanders, reached here after the battle of Bull Run utterly
demoralized. Like thousands of other soldiers, they threw away pretty
much everything they had. Their costume was abbreviated in the
beginning, and after Bull Run," the President's eyes twinkled, "lots of
them had to borrow skirts and blankets to cover their bareness. One of
these men gravely told me that the rebels in the trenches were perched
on teter-boards, and when one end came up to fire, the other end went
down to load. Good evening, Mrs. Arnold." He turned to shake hands with
her and Colonel Bennett.

"Why, Doctor Boyd," exclaimed Mrs. Arnold; "you here! I hope it means
that you are giving up night work, and so can come to our house-warming
on Monday night."

"As much as I should like to, I am afraid I cannot," rejoined Boyd. "I
expect to be called out of town at any time, but"--as her face
fell--"if I am in the city I will surely go to you."

"It is a shame if you do have to go away just then," declared Mrs.
Arnold, "because my husband counted on you to help him through the
evening, as he detests social gatherings."

"Ah, there comes that charming Monsieur Mercier," chimed in Mrs.
Bennett, as the French Minister strove to make his way through the
crowded room.

"Mercier has never recovered from his disappointment at his failure to
induce his government to recognize the Confederacy,"[2] laughed Colonel
Bennett. "It hurt his _amour propre_."

[2] See "Abraham Lincoln," by Nicholay and Hay.

"Men are not flattered by being shown that there has been a difference
of purpose between the Almighty and them," was Lincoln's noncommittal
reply. He turned to cross the room, but Mrs. Arnold, who had been an
interested listener, detained him for a moment.

"Do you speak French, Mr. President?" she inquired.

There was