It was the custom of President Lincoln to open, twice a week, the doors of his office in the Executive Mansion for the admission of all visitors who might wish to speak with him.  These brief interviews, quite devoid of ceremony, seemed to reveal the man in his true character, and to set forth the salient traits that fitted him for his great position, and endeared him so greatly to the popular heart.  They showed how easily accessible he was to all classes of citizens, how readily he could adapt himself to people of any station or degree, how deep and true were his human sympathies, how quickly and keenly he could discriminate character, and how heartily he detested meanness and all unworthy acts and appliances to compass a selfish or sordid end.  On these occasions, as may well be imagined, many curious incidents occurred.  Lincoln was usually clad “in a black broadcloth suit, nothing in his dress betokening disregard of conventionality, save perhaps his neat cloth slippers, which were doubtless worn for comfort.  He was seated beside a plain cloth-covered table, in a commodious arm-chair.”  As each visitor approached the President he was greeted with an encouraging nod and smile, and a few moments were cordially given him in which to state the object of the visit; the President listening with the most respectful and patient attention, and deciding each case with tact, sympathy, and good humor.  “His Yes,” says Mr. Riddle, “was most gracious and satisfactory; his No, when reached, was often spoken by the petitioner, and left only a soothed disappointment.  He saw the point of a case unerringly.  He had a confidence in the homely views and speech of the common people, with whom his heart and sympathies ever were.”

At these informal meetings with people who usually wanted some favor from him, no case was too trivial to receive his attention.  Taking advantage of the opportunity, there came one day, says Mr. C. Van Santvoord, “a sturdy, honest-looking German soldier, minus a leg, who hobbled up to the President on crutches.  In consideration of his disabled condition, he wanted some situation about Washington, the duties of which he might be able to discharge; and he had come to the President, hoping that he would provide the desired situation for him.  On being interrogated as to how he had lost his leg, he answered that it was the effect of a wound received in battle, mentioning the time and the place.  ‘Let me look at your papers,’ said Mr. Lincoln.  The man replied that he had none, and that he supposed his word would be sufficient.  ‘What!’ exclaimed the President, ’no papers, no credentials, nothing to show how you lost your leg!  How am I to know that you did not lose it by a trap after getting into somebody’s orchard?’ This was spoken with a droll expression which amused the bystanders, all except the applicant, who with a very solemn visage earnestly protested the truth of his statement, muttering something about the reasons for not being able to