The events of that day made a lasting impression upon my mind. The city was filled with troops, the hospitals, churches and other buildings were crowded with the wounded; the streets were stuffed with ambulances, baggage wagons, artillery, and material of war. The hills were dotted with tents, and the officers and men were discontented and almost in a state of mutiny. The demand for the restoration of McClellan was almost universal. There can be no doubt that he was then adored by the troops. In six months that feeling had given place to a feeling of indifference or positive distrust as to his capacity of integrity of purpose. During the preceding week, I had made many attempts to secure an interview with the President in regard to the appointment of collectors and assessors, as they were to commence their duties under the law September 1. Finally he gave me Sunday at 11 o'clock. He canvassed the papers and considered the merits of the candidates with as much coolness and care apparently, as he would have exhibited in a condition of profound peace. When the business was ended, he asked me what I thought about the command of the army. I said unhesitatingly that the restoration of McClellan seemed the only safe policy. I had seen and heard so much, that I was apprehensive of serious trouble in the army if he should again be superseded. I then said that emancipation seemed the only way out of our troubles. He said in reply: "Must we not wait for something that looks like a victory? Would not a proclamation now appear as _brutum fulmen?"_--the only Latin I ever heard from the President. In Gorham's Life of Stanton, it appears that the Cabinet advised against the restoration of McClellan, and that a vigorous protest was signed by three members, which, however, was not presented. During the autumn and winter of 1862-3, I was in the habit of calling at the War Office for news, when I left the Treasury--usually between nine and eleven o'clock. Not infrequently I met Mr. Lincoln on the way or at the department. When the weather was cold he wore a gray shawl, muffled closely around his neck and shoulders. There was great anxiety for General Grant in 1863, when he was engaged in the movement across the Mississippi. At that time I went to the War Office daily. One evening I met the President in front of the Executive Mansion, on his way back from the War Department. I said: "Any news, Mr. President?" "Come in and I will tell you!" I knew from the tones of his voice that he had good news. He read the dispatch, and then by the maps followed the course that Grant had taken. The news he had received was from Grant himself. From the 4th of March, 1861, I had not seen Mr. Lincoln as cheerful as he was when he read the dispatch, and traced the campaign on the map. He felt, evidently, that the end was approaching--although it was nearly two years away.