He was a diplomatist by nature, and developed the talent early. When a boy, he was selected as umpire at wrestling-matches, cock-fights, horse- and foot-races, and other rude sports of the neighborhood because his associates had confidence in his judgment and honesty. Because he had tact, in addition to those qualities, he was the peacemaker and court of appeals in quarrels; the referee in disputes; the arbiter in controversies concerning literature, theology, woodcraft, and morals. His decisions were rarely, if ever, questioned. He had a rule for evading difficulties which was expressed in a homely remark to Mr. Seward, who jokingly remarked at a Cabinet meeting one day,-- "Mr. President, I hear that you turned out for a colored woman on a muddy crossing the other day." "I don't remember," answered Lincoln, musingly; "but I think it very likely, for I have always made it a rule that if people won't turn out for me I will for them. If I didn't there would be a collision." And he always avoided collisions. It was not because he lacked courage or confidence. Obstinacy is often mistaken for courage, and, as one of Lincoln's advisers remarked, "Political graveyards are filled with buried ambitions and crushed hopes because of that mistake, which Mr. Lincoln never made." He never allowed an antagonist to fathom his thoughts or to see the line along which he was working. He gave way in matters of small importance to secure a firmer position to fight a more important battle. He overcame obstacles and escaped entanglements by the exercise of this faculty called diplomacy, without surrendering a principle or making an important concession. General Fry, who was Provost-Marshal of the War Department and received daily instructions from the President in regard to the draft for troops, which was one of the most embarrassing and perplexing questions that arose during the war, illustrates this peculiar trait by an anecdote. He says,-- "Upon one occasion the Governor of a State came to my office bristling with complaints in relation to the number of troops required from his State, the details for drafting the men, and the plan of compulsory service in general. I found it impossible to satisfy his demands, and accompanied him to the Secretary of War's office, whence, after a stormy interview with Stanton, he went alone to press his ultimatum upon the highest authority. After I had waited anxiously for some hours, expecting important orders or decisions from the President, or at least a summons to the White House for explanation, the Governor returned, and said, with a pleasant smile, that he was going home by the next train, and merely dropped in _en route_ to say good-by. Neither the business he came upon nor his interview with the President was alluded to.