“McClellan, and he certainly did do this well. He did it while he was at West Point.” There was nothing said for awhile. Perhaps he was balancing in his own mind the two words which were then agitating the heart of the American people, words which have ever throbbed the great heart of nations, words whose power every individual has recognized--“success,” and “failure.” I left shortly after with the promise to call next morning, as he desired me to do, at nine o’clock. I suppose the excitement caused the intense suffering of that night. I was very ill and it was ten o’clock the next morning before I was able to send for a carriage to keep my appointment with the President. It was past the hour; more than fifty persons were in the waiting room. I did not expect an audience, but sent in my name and said I would call again. The messenger said, “Do not go, I think the President will see you now.” I had been but a moment among anxious, expectant, waiting faces, when the door opened and the voice said, “Mrs. Harvey, the President will see you now.” I arose, not a little embarrassed to be gazed at so curiously by so many with a look that said as plainly as words could, “Who are you?” As I passed the crowd, one person said, “She has been here every day, and what is more, she is going to win.” I entered the presence of Mr. Lincoln for the last time. He smiled very graciously and drew a chair near him, and said, “Come here and sit down.” He had a paper in his hand which he said was for me to keep. It was a copy of the order just issued. I thanked him, not only for the order but for the manner and spirit in which it had been given, then said I must apologize for not having been there at nine o’clock as he desired me to be, but that I had been sick all night. He looked up with, “Did joy make you sick?” I said, “I don’t know, very likely it was the relaxation of nerve after intense excitement.” Still looking at me he said, “I suppose you would have been mad if I had said no?” I replied, “No, Mr. Lincoln, I should have been neither angry nor sick.” “What would you have done?” he asked curiously. “I should have been here at nine o’clock, Mr. President.” “Well,” he laughingly said, “I think I acted wisely, then,” and suddenly looking up, “Don’t you ever get angry?” he asked, “I know a little woman not very unlike you who gets mad sometimes.” I replied, “I never get angry when I have an object to gain of the importance of the one under consideration; to get angry, you know, would only weaken my cause, and destroy my influence.” “That is true, that is true,” he said, decidedly. “This hospital I shall name for you.” I said, “No, but if you would not consider the request indelicate, I would like to have it named for Mr. Harvey.” “Yes, just as well, it shall be so understood if you prefer it. I honored your husband, and felt his loss, and now let us have this matter settled at once.”