Among the President's minor worries was the assiduity with which his
generosity was cultivated by his relatives--not only those by his
marriage, but by his father's second marriage. He was like the eldest
son of the family to whom all looked for sustenance. There came to the
seat of government that Dennis Hanks, his cousin, who stood to reach
for boons on the platform of rails which they had cut long ago in
cohort. Dennis was seeking the pardon of some "Copperheads"--that is,
Southern sympathizers of the North, veiled in their enmity, but
dangerous. The secretary of war had pronounced against any leniency
toward what were dubbed glaring traitors. All the chief could do--for
he bared his head like _Lear_ to let the Stanton tempest blow upon him
and so spare others--was to say he would look at the cases the next
day. Hanks was muttering.
"Why, Dennis, what would you do were you President?" he asked the raw
backwoodsman, turning badly into suppliant.
"Do? Why, Abe, if I were as big and 'ugly'--aggressively combative--as
you are, I would take your Mr. Stanton over my knee and spank him!"
This caused a laugh, but the other replied severely:
"No. Stanton is an able and valuable man for this nation in his
station, and I am glad to have his _service_ in spite of his _sauce_."
* * * * *