“Among a large number of persons waiting in the room to speak with Mr. Lincoln, on a certain day in November, ’64, was a small, pale, delicate-looking boy about thirteen years old. The President saw him standing, looking feeble and faint, and said: ‘Come here, my boy, and tell me what you want.’ The boy advanced, placed his hand on the arm of the President’s chair, and with bowed head and timid accents said: ‘Mr. President, I have been a drummer in a regiment for two years, and my colonel got angry with me and turned me off. I was taken sick, and have been a long time in hospital. This is the first time I have been out, and I came to see if you could not do something for me.’ The President looked at him kindly and tenderly, and asked him where he lived. ‘I have no home,’ answered the boy. ‘Where is your father?’ ‘He died in the army,’ was the reply. ‘Where is your mother?’ continued the President. ‘My mother is dead also. I have no mother, no father, no brothers, no sisters, and,’ bursting into tears, ‘no friends--nobody cares for me.’ Mr. Lincoln’s eyes filled with tears, and he said to him, ‘Can’t you sell newspapers?’ ‘No,’ said the boy, ‘I am too weak; and the surgeon of the hospital told me I must leave, and I have no money, and no place to go to.’ The scene was wonderfully affecting. The President drew forth a card, and addressing on it certain officials to whom his request was law, gave special directions ‘to care for this poor boy.’ The wan face of the little drummer lit up with a happy smile as he received the paper, and he went away convinced that he had one good and true friend, at least, in the person of the President.”[23] No incident of this character related of the late President, is more profoundly touching in its tenderness and simplicity than that given to me the last evening I passed at the White House, in the office of the private secretary, by a resident of Washington,[24] who witnessed the scene. “I was waiting my turn to speak to the President one day, some three or four weeks since,” said Mr. M----, “when my attention was attracted by the sad patient face of a woman advanced in life, who in a faded hood and shawl was among the applicants for an interview. “Presently Mr. Lincoln turned to her, saying in his accustomed manner, ‘Well, my good woman, what can I do for you this morning?’ ‘Mr. President,’ said she, ‘my husband and three sons all went into the army. My husband was killed in the fight at ----. I get along very badly since then, living all alone, and I thought I would come and ask you to release to me my oldest son.’ Mr. Lincoln looked into her face a moment, and in his kindest accents responded, ‘Certainly! certainly! If you have given us _all_, and your prop has been taken away, you are justly entitled to one of your boys!’ He immediately made out an order discharging the young man, which the woman took, and thanking him gratefully, went away.