The life and public services of Abraham Lincoln ... together with his state papers, including his speeches, addresses, messages, letters, and proclamations, and the closing scenes connected with his life and death. By Henry J. Raymond. To which are added anecdotes and personal reminiscences of President Lincoln, by Frank B. Carpenter.

75S TIE LIFE OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN.
remember that a message to Congress was a different affair from a
speech at a mass-meeting in Illinois-that the messages became a part
of histrry, and should be written accordingly.
"What is the matter now?" inquired the President.
"Why," said Mr. DIfrees, "you have used an undignified expression in the message;" and then, reading the paragraph aloud, he
added, " I would alter the structure of that, if I were you."
"Defrees," replied Mr. Lincoln, "that word expresses precisely my
idea, and I am not going to change it. The time will never come in
this country when the people won't know exactly what sugar-coated
means!"
On a subsequent occasion, Mr. Defrees told me, a certain sentence
of another messarc was very awkwardly constructed. Calling the
President's attentinl to it in the proof-copy, the latter acknowledged
the force of the objection raised, and said, "Go home, Defrees, and
see if you can better it." The next day Mr. Defrees took in to him
his amendment. Mr. Lincoln met him by saying: "Seward found the
same fault that vyu did, and he has been rewriting the paragraph
also." Then reading Mr. Defrees's version, he said: "I believe you
have beat Seward; but, ' I jings'" (a common expression with him),
"I think I can beat you both." Then taking up his pen, he wrote the
sentence as it was finally printed.
A Congressman elect, from New York State, was once pressing a
matter of considerable importance upon Mr. Lincoln, urging his official
action. "( You must see Raymond about this," said the President (referring to the editor of the New York Times); " he is my LieutenantGeneral in politics. Whatever he says is right in the premises, shall
be done."
The evening before I left Washington, an incident occurred, illustrating very perfectly the character of the man. For two days my
large painting had been on exhibition, upon its completion, in the
East Room, which had been thronged with visitors. Late in the afternoon of the second day, the "black-horse cavalry" escort drew up as
usual in front of the portico, preparatory to the President's leaving for
the " Soldiers' Home," where he spent the midsummer nights. While
the carriage was waiting, I looked around for him, wishing to say a
farewell word, knowing that I should have no other opportunity.
Presently I saw him standing half-way between the portico and the
gateway leading to the War Department, leaning against the iron
fence —one arm thrown over the railing, and one foot on the stone
coping which supports it, evidently having been intercepted, on his