hear Dr. Gurley preach. He sat in reverent silence through the service,
his soul hovering over the distant hills.

Before midnight the panic stricken Congressmen began to drop into the
White House, each with his story of unparalleled disaster. At one
o'clock the President stood in the midst of a group of excited,
perspiring statesmen who had crowded into the executive office, the one
cool, shrewd, patient, self-possessed courageous man among them. He
reviewed their stories quietly and with no sign of excitement, to say
nothing of panic.

They marvelled at his dull intellect.

He was listening in silence, shaping the big new policy of his
administration.

He spent the entire night calmly listening to all these stories,
speaking a word of good cheer where it would be of service.

Mr. Seward entered as he had just finished a light breakfast.

The Secretary's hair was disheveled, his black string tie under his ear,
and he was taking two pinches of snuff within the time he usually took
one.

In thirty minutes the outlines of his message to Congress and his new
proclamation were determined. Mr. Seward left with new courage and a
growing sense of reliance on the wisdom, courage and intellectual power
of the Chief he had thought to supplant without a struggle.

At eight o'clock the man with a grievance made his first appearance. His
wrath was past the boiling point, in spite of the fact that his
handsome uniform was still wet from the night's wild ride.

He went straight to the point. He was a volunteer patriot of high
standing in his community. As a citizen of the Republic, wearing its
uniform, he represented its dignity and power. He had been grossly
insulted by a military martinet from West Point and he proposed to test
the question whether an American citizen had any rights such men must
respect.

The President lifted his calm, deep eyes to the flushed angry face,
glanced at the gold marks of his rank, and said:

"What can I do for you, Captain?"

"I've come to ask you, Mr. President," he began with subdued intensity,
"whether a volunteer officer of this country, a man of culture and
position, is to be treated as a dog or a human being?"

The quiet man at the desk slipped his glasses from his ears, polished
them with his handkerchief, readjusted them, and looked up again with
kindly interest:

"What's the trouble?"

"A discussion arose in our regiment on the day we were ordered into
battle over the expir