That night Tom sat up late. Nicolay and Hay had asked him to spend the evening, after the household had gone to bed, in their office. Crackers and cheese and a jug of milk were the refreshments and John Hay's talk was the delight of the little gathering. Midnight had just struck when the door opened quietly and the President slipped into the room. Never had Tom seen him in such guise. The only thing he had on was a short nightshirt and carpet-slippers. He was smiling as he entered. "Hear this, boys," he said. "It's from the 'Biglow Papers.' That fellow Lowell knows how to put things. Just hear this. He puts these Yankee words into Jeff Davis's mouth: "'An' votin' we're prosp'rous a hundred times over Wun't change bein' starved into livin' on clover. * * * * * An' wut Spartans wuz lef' when the battle wuz done Wuz them that wuz too unambitious to run. * * * * * An' how, sence Fort Donelson, winnin' the day Consists in triumphantly gettin' away!' And here," continued the President, utterly unaware of the oddity of his garb, "and here is a good touch on the Proclamation. I wish all the 'cussed fools' in America could read it. Hear this: "'An' why should we kick up a muss About the Pres'dent's proclamation? It ain't a-goin' to lib'rate us Ef we don't like emancipation. The right to be a cussed fool Is safe from all devices human. It's common (ez a gin'l rule) To every critter born o' woman.'" Lincoln strode out again, "seemingly utterly unconscious," says Hay's diary, "that he, with his short shirt hanging about his long legs and setting out behind like the tail feathers of an enormous ostrich, was infinitely funnier than anything in the book he was laughing at." "That fellow Lowell" was James Russell Lowell, an American critic, poet, and essayist, later our Minister to England. * * * * * One day Tom had a welcome letter from his father, saying he was on his way home and would be in Washington almost as soon as his letter was. The letter was written from St. Petersburg and had upon its envelope Russian stamps. Tom had never seen a Russian stamp before. He showed the envelope as a curiosity to little Tad Lincoln and at that small boy's eager request gave it to him. Tom happened to lunch with the Lincoln family that day. Tad produced his new possession at the table, crying to his mother: "See what Tommy has given me." "Who wrote you from Russia?" asked Mrs. Lincoln. "My father," the boy answered. "He sent me good news. He's coming home right away." "Your father sent me good news, too," said Mr. Lincoln from the head of the table. "What was that?" interjected the first lady of the land.