HIS LAST SPEECH.

President Lincoln was reading the draft of a speech. Edward, the
conservative but dignified butler of the White House, was seen
struggling with Tad and trying to drag him back from the window from
which was waving a Confederate flag, captured in some fight and given to
the boy. Edward conquered and Tad, rushing to find his father, met him
coming forward to make, as it proved, his last speech.

The speech began with these words, "We meet this evening, not in sorrow,
but in gladness of heart." Having his speech written in loose leaves,
and being compelled to hold a candle in the other hand, he would let the
loose leaves drop to the floor one by one. "Tad" picked them up as they
fell, and impatiently called for more as they fell from his father's
hand.

FORGOT EVERYTHING HE KNEW BEFORE.

President Lincoln, while entertaining a few select friends, is said to
have related the following anecdote of a man who knew too much:

He was a careful, painstaking fellow, who always wanted to be absolutely
exact, and as a result he frequently got the ill-will of his less
careful superiors.

During the administration of President Jackson there was a singular
young gentleman employed in the Public Postoffice in Washington.

His name was G.; he was from Tennessee, the son of a widow, a neighbor
of the President, on which account the old hero had a kind feeling for
him, and always got him out of difficulties with some of the higher
officials, to whom his singular interference was distasteful.

Among other things, it is said of him that while employed in the General
Postoffice, on one occasion he had to copy a letter to Major H., a
high official, in answer to an application made by an old gentleman in
Virginia or Pennsylvania, for the establishment of a new postoffice.

The writer of the letter said the application could not be granted, in
consequence of the applicant's "proximity" to another office.

When the letter came into G.'s hand to copy, being a great stickler for
plainness, he altered "proximity" to "nearness to."

Major H. observed it, and asked G. why he altered his letter.

"Why," replied G., "because I don't think the man would understand what
you mean by proximity."

"Well," said Major H., "try him; put in the 'proximity' again."

In a few days a letter was received from the applicant, in which he very
indignantly said that his father had fought for liberty in the second
war for in