A morning or two after the visit of Mr. Greeley, I was called upon by
a gentleman, who requested my assistance in securing a brief interview
with the President, for the purpose of presenting him with an elaborate
pen-and-ink “allegorical, symbolic” representation of the “Emancipation
Proclamation;” which, in a massive carved frame, had been purchased at
a recent “Sanitary Fair,” in one of the large cities, by a committee of
gentlemen, expressly for this object. The composition contained a tree,
representing Liberty; a portrait of Mr. Lincoln; soldiers, monitors,
broken fetters, etc.; together with the text of the proclamation,
all executed with a pen. Artistically speaking, such works have no
value,--they are simply interesting, as curiosities. Mr. Lincoln kindly
accorded the desired opportunity to make the presentation, which
occupied but a few moments, and was in the usual form. He accepted the
testimonial, he said, not for himself, but in behalf of “the cause
in which all were engaged.” When the group dispersed, I remained with
the President. He returned to his desk; while I examined curiously
the pen work, which was exceedingly minute in detail. “This is quite
wonderful!” I said, at length. Mr. Lincoln looked up from his papers;
“Yes,” he rejoined; “it is what I call _ingenious nonsense_!”
The evening following this affair, on entering the President’s office,
about eleven o’clock, I found him alone, seated at the long table,
with a large pile of military commissions before him, which he was
signing one by one. As I sat down beside him, he presently remarked,
“I do not, as you see, pretend to read over these documents. I see
that Stanton has signed them, so I conclude they are all right.”
Pausing here, he read a portion of one, beginning with the name of
the individual, “-------- is hereby appointed adjutant-general, with
the rank of captain, etc. E. M. Stanton, Secretary of War.” “There,”
said he, appending his own signature in the opposite corner; “that
fixes _him_ out.” Thus he went on chatting and writing, until he had
finished the lot; then, rising from his chair, he stretched himself,
and said, “Well, I have got that job _husked out_; now I guess I will
go over to the War Department before I go to bed, and see if there is
any news.” Walking over with him at his request,--to divert his mind, I
repeated a story told me the night previous concerning a ‘contraband’
who had fallen into the hands of some good pious people, and was being
taught by them to read and pray. Going off by himself one day, he was
overheard to commence a prayer by the introduction of himself as “Jim
Williams--a berry good nigga’ to wash windows; ’spec’s you know me
now?’”
An amusing illustration of the fact that whatever the nature of an
incident related to the President, it never failed to remind him of
something similar, followed. After a hearty laugh at what he called
this “direct way of putting the case,” he said: “The story that
suggests to me, has no resemblance to it save in the ‘washing windows’
part. A lady in Philadelphia had a pet poodle dog, which mysteriously
disappeared. Rewards were offered for him, and a great ado made without
effect. Some weeks passed, and all hope of the favorite’s return had
been given up, when a servant brought him in one day, in the filthiest
condition imaginable. The lady was overjoyed to see her pet again, but
horrified at his appearance. ‘Where _did_ you find him?’ she exclaimed.
‘Oh,’ replied the man, very unconcernedly, ‘a negro down the street had
him tied to the end of a pole, _swabbing_ windows.’”