most panicky person I ever knew; you can see more dangers to me than all the other friends I have. You are all the time exercised about somebody taking my life, murdering me; and now you have discovered a new danger now you think the people of this great government are likely to turn me out of office. I do not fear this from the people any more than I fear assassination from an individual. Now, to show you my appreciation of what my French friends would call a coup d'état, let me read you a letter I have written to General Hooker, whom I have just appointed to the command of the Army of the Potomac." He then opened the drawer of his table and took out and read the letter to General Hooker, which accompanied his commission as Commander of the Army of the Potomac, of which letter the following is a copy:

(PRIVATE.)

Major-General Hooker:

EXECUTIVE MANSION,
WASHINGTON, D. C., Jan. 26, 1863.

GENERAL, — I have placed you at the head of the Army of the Potomac. Of course I have done this upon what appears to me sufficient reasons; and yet I think it best for you to know that there are some things in regard to which I am not quite satisfied with you.

I believe you to be a brave and skilful soldier, which of course I like. I also believe you do not mix politics with your profession, in which you are right. You have confidence in yourself, which is a valuable, if not indispensable, quality. You are ambitious, which, within reasonable bounds, does good rather than harm. But I think that

during General Burnside's command of the army you have taken counsel of your ambition solely, and thwarted him as much as you could; in which you did a great wrong to the country and to a most meritorious and honorable brother officer. I have heard, in such a way as to believe it, of your saying that both the country and the army needed a dictator. Of course it was not for this, but in spite of it, that I have given you the command. Only those generals who gain success can set themselves up as dictators. What I ask of you is military success, and I will risk the dictatorship. The government will support you to the utmost of its ability, which is neither more nor less than it has done and will do for all its commanders.

I much fear that the spirit which you have aided to infuse into the army, of criticising their commander and withholding confidence from him, will now turn upon you; and I shall assist you as far as I can to put it down. Neither you nor Napoleon, if he were alive again, could get any good out of an army while such a spirit prevails in it.

And now, beware of rashness, but with energy and sleepless vigilance go forward and give us victories.

Yours very truly,

A. LINCOLN.

Some little time afterwards, in referring with much feeling to this letter, General Hooker declared: "It was just such a letter as a father might have addressed to his son. It was a great rebuke, however, to me at the time."

The question of a dictatorship had been everywhere ventilated. The President had heard a great deal about it; but he treated the whole subject as a pure vagary, not apprehending any serious danger from it. At first

it may have given him some annoyance; but it soon ceased to disturb him, and ultimately it became the source of no little mirth and amusement to him. I was present upon one occasion when a party of the intimate friends of Mr. Lincoln were assembled at the White House, and the project of a dictatorship was the topic of conversation. The President gave full play to the exuberance of his humor and his sense of the ridiculous, entirely banishing the anxieties and apprehensions of such of his friends as were inclined to regard the question from a more serious point of view. "I will tell you," said he, a story which I think illustrates the

situation.

66

"Some years ago a couple of emigrants from the Emerald Isle were wending their way westward in search of employment as a means of subsistence. The shades of night had already closed in upon them as they found themselves in the vicinity of a large sheet of standing water, more vulgarly called a big pond. They were greeted upon their approach by a symphony of bullfrogs, which was the only manifestation of life in the darkness that surrounded them, literally making night hideous' with noise. This sort of harmony was altogether new to them, and for a moment they were greatly terrified at the diabolic din. Instinctively and resolutely grasping their shillalahs, under the impression that Beelzebub or some of his deputies was about to dispute their farther progress, they cautiously advanced toward the spot from whence the strange concert proceeded. The

frogs, however, alarmed at their approaching footsteps, had beat a precipitate retreat, and taken refuge in their watery hiding-places, and all was as silent as the grave. After waiting for some seconds in breathless suspense for the appearance of the enemy, not a sound being audible, in great disappointment and disgust at the loss of so favorable an opportunity for a free fight, one of our heroes, seizing his companion by the coat-sleeve, whispered confidentially in his ear: 'Faith, Pat, and it's my deliberate opinion that it was nothing but a blasted noise!'"

Pursuing the topic in the same humorous vein, Mr. Lincoln again convulsed his auditors by relating the following story :

"A benighted wayfarer having lost his way somewhere amidst the wilds of our Northwestern frontiers, the embarrassments of his position were increased by a furious tempest which suddenly burst upon him. To add to the discomforts of the situation his horse had given out, leaving him exposed to all the dangers of the pitiless storm. The peals of thunder were terrific, the frequent flashes of lightning affording the only guide to the route he was pursuing as he resolutely trudged onward leading his jaded steed. The earth seemed fairly to tremble beneath him in the war of elements. One bolt threw him suddenly upon his knees. Our traveller was not a prayerful man, but finding himself involuntarily brought to an attitude of devotion, he addressed himself to the Throne of Grace in the following prayer for his deliver

ance: 'O God! hear my prayer this time, for Thou knowest it is not often that I call upon Thee. And, O Lord! if it is all the same to Thee, give us a little more light and a little less noise!' I hope," said Mr. Lincoln, pointing the moral of the anecdote, "that we may have a much stronger disposition manifested hereafter, on the part of our civilian warriors, to unite in suppressing the rebellion, and a little less noise as to how and by whom the chief executive office shall be administered."