One afternoon during the summer of 1862, the President accompanied several gentlemen to the Washington Navy-yard, to witness some experiments with a newly-invented gun. Subsequently the party went aboard of one of the steamers lying at the wharf. A discussion was going on as to the merits of the invention, in the midst of which Mr. Lincoln caught sight of some _axes_ hanging up outside of the cabin. Leaving the group, he quietly went forward, and taking one down, returned with it, and said: “Gentlemen, you may talk about your ‘Raphael repeaters’ and ‘eleven-inch Dahlgrens;’ but _here_ is an institution which I guess I understand better than either of you.” With that he held the axe out at arm’s length by the end of the handle, or “helve,” as the wood-cutters call it--a feat not another person of the party could perform, though all made the attempt. In such acts as this, showing that he neither forgot nor was ashamed of his humble origin, the late President exhibited his true nobility of character. He was a perfect illustration of his favorite poet’s words:-- “The rank is but the guinea’s stamp, The man’s the gold, for a’ that!” XXXVIII. In March, 1864, Edwin Forrest came to Washington to fulfil an engagement at Ford’s Theatre. It was announced one day that he was to appear that evening in “Richelieu.” I was with the President, when Senator Harris of New York came in. After he had finished his business, which was to secure the remittance of the sentence of one of his constituents, who had been imprisoned on what seemed insufficient grounds, I told the President that Forrest was to play _Richelieu_ that evening, and, knowing his tastes, I said it was a play which I thought he would enjoy, for Forrest’s representation of it was the most life-like of anything I had ever seen upon the stage. “Who wrote the play?” said he. “Bulwer,” I replied. “Ah!” he rejoined; “well, I knew Bulwer wrote novels, but I did not know he was a play-writer also. It may seem somewhat strange to say,” he continued, “but I never read an entire novel in my life!” Said Judge Harris, “Is it possible?” “Yes,” returned the President, “it is a fact. I once commenced ‘Ivanhoe,’ but never finished it.” This statement, in this age of the world, seems almost incredible--but I give the circumstance as it occurred. However it may have been with regard to novels, it is very certain--as I have already illustrated--that he found time to read Shakspeare; and that he was also fond of certain kinds of poetry. N. P. Willis once told me, that he was taken quite by surprise, on a certain occasion when he was riding with the President and Mrs. Lincoln, by Mr. Lincoln, of his own accord, referring to, and quoting several lines from his poem entitled “Parrhasius.”