The evening following the reading of this letter, he said that Mrs. Lincoln and he had promised half an hour to a sort of “artist” who wished to “exhibit” before them in the red-room below. “What kind of an artist?” I inquired. “Oh, not in your line,” he answered; “I think he is a sort of mountebank, or comic lecturer, or something of the kind.” On my way to my own room, I met in the passage the well-known “Jeems Pipes of Pipesville,”--otherwise Stephen Massett,--whom I at once conjectured to be the individual the President had referred to. The two rooms communicating by double doors, I could not well avoid overhearing a portion of the performance, or more properly lecture, which I think was announced by the title of “Drifting About.” Comic imitations of various characters were given, among others that of a stammering man, which appeared greatly to amuse Mr. Lincoln. I could only now and then catch a word of the burlesque, but the voice and ringing laugh of the President were perfectly distinguishable. When the “lecture” ceased, Mr. Lincoln said, “I want to offer a suggestion. I once knew a man who invariably ‘_whistled_’ with his stammering,” and he then gave an imitation. “Now,” he continued, “if you could get in a touch of nature like that it would be irresistibly ludicrous.” “Pipes” applauded the amendment, rehearsing it several times, until he had mastered it to the President’s satisfaction; and I dare say the innovation became a part of all subsequent performances. About this period numerous delegations from various religious bodies and associations thronged the White House. Among the number none met so cordial a reception as that of the “Christian Commission,” composed of volunteer clergymen who had just returned from the Wilderness battleground. In the brief address by the chairman of the occasion, he stated that the group before the President embraced those who had been first on the field to offer aid and refreshments to the wounded of that terrible series of battles. In reply Mr. Lincoln expressed his appreciation of the self-denying services rendered by the Commission, in feeling terms. He concluded his response in these words: “And I desire also to add to what I have said, that there is one association whose object and motives I have never heard in any degree impugned or questioned; and that is the ‘Christian Commission.’ And in ‘these days of villany,’ as Shakspeare says, that is a record, gentlemen, of which you may justly be proud!” Upon the conclusion of the “ceremony,” he added, in a conversational tone, “I believe, however, it is old ‘Jack Falstaff’ who talks about ‘villany,’ though of course Shakspeare is responsible.”