It is related that Charles Sumner, who was a very tall man, and proud of his height, once worried the President about some perplexing matter, when Lincoln sought to change the subject by abruptly challenging his visitor to measure backs.  “Sumner,” said Mr. Lincoln, “declined to stand up with me, back to back, to see which was the tallest man, and made a fine speech about this being the time for uniting our fronts against the enemy, and not our backs.  But I guess he was afraid to measure, though he is a good piece of a man.  I have never had much to do with Bishops where I live, but, do you know, Sumner is my idea of a Bishop.”

A good story of President Lincoln and General Scott is reported by Major-General Keyes, who at the beginning of the war was on the staff of General Scott, then commander-in-chief of the armies of the United States.  “I was sent,” says General Keyes, “by my chief to the President with a message that referred to a military subject, and that led to a discussion.  Finding that Mr. Lincoln’s observations were beginning to tangle my arguments, I said, ’That is the opinion of General Scott, and you know, Mr. President, he is a very able military man.’  ‘Well,’ said the President, ’if he is as able a military man as he is unable as a politician, I give up.’  This was said with an expression of the eye, which he turned on me, that was peculiar to him, and which signified a great deal.  The astounding force of Mr. Lincoln’s observation was not at all diminished by the fact that I had long suspected that my chief lacked something which is necessary to make a successful politician.”

Among the numerous delegations which thronged Washington in the early part of the war was one from New York, which urged very strenuously the sending of a fleet to the southern cities—­Charleston, Mobile, and Savannah—­with the object of drawing off the rebel army from Washington.  Lincoln said the object reminded him of the case of a girl in New Salem, who was greatly troubled with a “singing” in her head.  Various remedies were suggested by the neighbors, but nothing seemed to afford any relief.  At last a man came along—­“a common-sense sort of man,” said he, inclining his head towards his callers pleasantly,—­“who was asked to prescribe for the difficulty.  After due inquiry and examination, he said the cure was very simple.  ‘What is it?’ was the question.  ’Make a plaster of psalm-tunes, and apply to her feet, and draw the singing down,’ was the rejoinder.”  Still better was his reply to another delegation of New York millionaires who waited upon him in 1862, after the appearance of the rebel ram “Merrimac,” and represented to him that they were very uneasy about the unprotected situation of their city, which was exposed to attack and bombardment by rebel rams; and they requested him to detail a gun-boat to defend the city.  The gentlemen were fifty in number, very dignified and respectable in appearance, and stated that they represented