Mr. Seward entered as he had just finished a light breakfast. The Secretary's hair was disheveled, his black string tie under his ear, and he was taking two pinches of snuff within the time he usually took one. In thirty minutes the outlines of his message to Congress and his new proclamation were determined. Mr. Seward left with new courage and a growing sense of reliance on the wisdom, courage and intellectual power of the Chief he had thought to supplant without a struggle. At eight o'clock the man with a grievance made his first appearance. His wrath was past the boiling point, in spite of the fact that his handsome uniform was still wet from the night's wild ride. He went straight to the point. He was a volunteer patriot of high standing in his community. As a citizen of the Republic, wearing its uniform, he represented its dignity and power. He had been grossly insulted by a military martinet from West Point and he proposed to test the question whether an American citizen had any rights such men must respect. The President lifted his calm, deep eyes to the flushed angry face, glanced at the gold marks of his rank, and said: "What can I do for you, Captain?" "I've come to ask you, Mr. President," he began with subdued intensity, "whether a volunteer officer of this country, a man of culture and position, is to be treated as a dog or a human being?" The quiet man at the desk slipped his glasses from his ears, polished them with his handkerchief, readjusted them, and looked up again with kindly interest: "What's the trouble?" "A discussion arose in our regiment on the day we were ordered into battle over the expiration of our enlistment. I held, as a lawyer, sir, that every day of rotten manual labor we had faithfully performed for our country should be counted in our three months military service. Our time had expired and I demanded that we be discharged then and there----" "On the eve of a battle?" "Certainly, sir--what had that to do with our rights? We could have reenlisted on the spot. I refused to take orders from the upstart who commanded our brigade." "And what happened?" the calm voice asked. "He dared to threaten my life, sir!" "Who was he?" "A Colonel in command of our brigade--named Sherman!" "William Tecumseh Sherman?" "Yes, sir." "What did he say to you?" "Swore that if I moved an inch to leave his command he'd shoot me----" "He said that to you?" "Swore he'd shoot me down in my tracks like a dog!" The President gravely rose, placed a big hand on the young officer's shoulder and in serious, friendly tones said: "If I were in your place, Captain, I wouldn't trust that man Sherman--I believe he'll do it!" The astonished volunteer looked up with a puzzled sheepish expression, turned and shot out of the room. The long figure dropped into a chair and doubled with laughter. He rose and walked to his window, looking out on the trees swaying beneath the storm, still laughing.