During the avalanche of plans to conduct the suppression of the
rebellion, a genius proposed what afterward seemed a forecast for
Sherman's march to the sea. But at the time, Lincoln saw in it merely a
desperate venture which would detail a rescue-party much more important.
"That reminds me," he said, with his whimsical smile, "of a cooper out
my way, new at the trade and much annoyed by the head falling in as he
was hooping in the staves around it. But the bright idea occurred to
him to put his boy in to hold up the cover. Only when the job was
completed by this inner support, the new problem rose: how to get the
boy out?
"Your plan is feasible, sir; but how are you to get the boy out?"
(The story was originally credited to a Chinese cooper, to whom modern
caskmaking was a mystery.)
* * * * *
"A PLEASURE TO PRESIDE, AT LAST!"
On the 4th of March, 1863, when Congress was closing the session,
President Lincoln gave away the bride at a marriage ceremony held--by
his invitation--in the House of Representatives' chamber. This seems a
singular and high honor to the couple. Their preeminence and the
function being acclaimed by all the notables connected with the field
and the forum in the capital, was a characteristic testimonial to the
comforters whose service to the soldier was inestimable. The pair were
John A. Fowle and Elida Rumsey, the man from Boston, the lady from New
York. They were both attendants on the hospitals at the front, when
their acquaintance verged into community, and this eventful matrimony.
Lincoln had met both, in his continuous calls at the hospitals, and
offered the west wing of the Capitol building for the wedding. He gave
away the bride, and in the records figure his name and those of the
illustrious witnesses. He gave a huge basket of the finest flowers from
the White House conservatory. He stayed to witness the dedication of
the Soldier's Library, founded by Mr. Fowle, who had seen the arrant
want of reading-matter by our soldiers--so few being illiterate. At the
President's hint, Congress granted the ground for the library, but the
Pension Office now occupies the site.
Sixty-three was a dark year, and the President might well say on this
typical incident, during a time there was little marrying, it is for
once a pleasure to _preside_.
* * * * *