The Hon. Mr. Kellogg, representative from Essex County, New York, received a despatch one evening from the army, to the effect that a young townsman, who had been induced to enlist through his instrumentality, had, for a serious misdemeanor, been convicted by a court-martial, and was to be shot the next day. Greatly agitated, Mr. Kellogg went to the Secretary of War, and urged, in the strongest manner, a reprieve. Stanton was inexorable. “Too many cases of the kind had been let off,” he said; “and it was time an example was made.” Exhausting his eloquence in vain, Mr. Kellogg said,--“Well, Mr. Secretary, the boy is not going to be _shot_,--of that I give you fair warning!” Leaving the War Department, he went directly to the White House, although the hour was late. The sentinel on duty told him that special orders had been issued to admit no one whatever that night. After a long parley, by pledging himself to assume the responsibility of the act, the congressman passed in. The President had retired; but, indifferent to etiquette or ceremony, Judge Kellogg pressed his way through all obstacles to his sleeping apartment. In an excited manner he stated that the despatch announcing the hour of execution had but just reached him. “This man must not be shot, Mr. President,” said he. “I can’t help what he may have done. Why, he is an old neighbor of mine; I can’t allow him to be shot!” Mr. Lincoln had remained in bed, quietly listening to the vehement protestations of his old friend, (they were in Congress together.) He at length said: “Well, I don’t believe _shooting_ him will do him any good. Give me that pen.” And, so saying, “red tape” was unceremoniously cut, and another poor fellow’s lease of life was indefinitely extended. One night Speaker Colfax left all other business to ask the President to respite the son of a constituent, who was sentenced to be shot, at Davenport, for desertion. He heard the story with his usual patience, though he was wearied out with incessant calls, and anxious for rest, and then replied: “Some of our generals complain that I impair discipline and subordination in the army by my pardons and respites, but it makes me rested, after a hard day’s work, if I can find some good excuse for saving a man’s life, and I go to bed happy as I think how joyous the signing of my name will make him and his family and his friends.” Mr. Van Alen, of New York, in an account furnished the “Evening Post,” wrote: “I well remember the case of a poor woman who sought, with the persistent affection of a mother, for the pardon of her son condemned to death. She was successful in her petition. When she had left the room, Mr. Lincoln turned to me and said: ‘Perhaps I have done wrong, but at all events I have made that poor woman happy.’”