“She then called at the President's and sent in his own letter which he had given her when she started South, that she might thereby be recalled to his memory. He sent for her at once. As she entered his office he arose and greeted her most affectionately, calling her 'my child,' and bidding her be seated. He commenced plying her with questions, and she told him the whole story. When she related what she had seen in the rebel prisons, his countenance saddened and tears fell from his eyes. He said: “'This must be remedied somehow. Humanity revolts at retaliation in kind, but in an instance like this it might be justified.' “She told him what she desired, and what the Secretary had promised. He replied: “'My dear child, it shall be done. My old friend Lyon is making more sacrifices than should be demanded of any one. I hope you will see him soon, and when you do, tell him that I often think of him and his family, as well as what they are doing for their country.' “The President was a man of generous impulses. He had a very kind heart, full of sympathy for humanity. “She left the President with feelings of the deepest affection and gratitude, having every assurance that her wishes would be complied with. As she left, he bade her good-by, calling her his 'little heroine.' From Washington she went to Baltimore, learning that some prisoners who had been exchanged were to be landed there. She remained at the Burnett House, most of the time in her room, not wishing to make any acquaintances, but watching the papers closely to ascertain the time for the arrival of the prisoners. One evening she learned that a vessel had come into port with 200 prisoners. She hastened to the dock; arriving all out of breath, and seeing the large crowd that was waiting she became very much excited, and observing an officer in uniform she ventured to speak to him. It was Gen. Shunk, of Ohio. She told him who she was, and also for whom she was looking. He answered her very cordially, and said he knew Mr. Daniel Lyon, formerly of Ohio, and inquired if the person in question was one of his sons. She said he was, and he told her to wait and he would see, as he was then in command at Baltimore. In a few moments he came back with the glad tidings that Henry Lyon was among the prisoners. She was going to rush on board the vessel, but the General detained her, informing her that it was not allowable under the orders, but he would bring Henry to her as soon as possible. Soon she saw Henry coming from the vessel, leaning upon the arm of a comrade. He seemed to be very weak, and still looked like a mere shadow. He was brought where she stood, trembling and almost fearing to meet him lest his mind might have given way somewhat under the trying ordeal through which he had just passed. She threw her arms around his neck and wept aloud. A carriage was procured, and she accompanied him, by permission, to the hospital where he was ordered to go.