But in the darkest hours of the nation’s peril, Lincoln never wavered in his purpose.  Anxious and careworn, his heart bleeding with grief for the losses of our brave soldiers, and harassed by the grave duties constantly demanding his attention, he had but one purpose,—­to go on unfalteringly and unhesitatingly in his course until the supremacy of the Government was restored in every portion of its territory.  He wrote in a private letter:  “I expect to maintain this contest until successful, or till I die, or am conquered, or my term expires, or Congress or the country forsake me.”

Besides his invincible will and courage, Lincoln had one important resource in his dark hours, an ever-ready relief for his overcharged emotions.  Byron said that he sometimes laughed in order that he might not weep.  Lincoln’s life-long solace was his love of story-telling.  Hon. Hugh McCulloch, afterward Secretary of the Treasury, relates that about a week after the battle of Bull Run he called at the White House, in company with a few friends, and was amazed when, referring to something which had been said by one of the company about the battle that was so disastrous to the Union forces, the President remarked, in his usual quiet manner, “That reminds me of a story,” which he told in a manner so humorous as almost to lead his listeners to believe that he was free from care and apprehension.  Mr. McCulloch could not then understand how the President could feel like telling a story, when Washington was in danger of being captured and the whole North was dismayed.  He learned his mistake afterwards, however, and perceived that his estimate of Lincoln before his election was well grounded, and that he possessed even higher qualities than he had been given credit for; that he was “a man of sound judgment, great singleness and tenacity of purpose, and extraordinary sagacity; that story-telling was to him a safety-valve, and that he indulged in it, not only for the pleasure it afforded him, but for a temporary relief from oppressing cares.”  It is related that on the morning after the battle at Fredericksburg, Hon. I.N.  Arnold, then a member of Congress from Illinois, called on the President, and to his amazement found him engaged in reading “Artemus Ward.”  Making no reference to that which occupied the universal thought, he asked Mr. Arnold to sit down while he read to him Artemus’ description of his visit to the Shakers.  Shocked at this proposition, Mr. Arnold said:  “Mr. President, is it possible that with the whole land bowed in sorrow and covered with a pall in the presence of yesterday’s fearful reverse, you can indulge in such levity?” Throwing down the book, with the tears streaming down his cheeks and his huge frame quivering with emotion, Lincoln answered:  “Mr. Arnold, if I could not get momentary respite from the crushing burden I am constantly carrying, my heart would break!”