showing, did not seem to him to sanction his interference.  In the last interview, the man became angry, and turning abruptly said:  “Well, Mr. President, I see you are determined not to do me justice!” This was too much, even for the long-suffering Lincoln.  Manifesting, however, no more feeling than that indicated by a slight compression of the lips, he quietly arose, laid down a package of papers he held in his hands, and then, suddenly seizing the disgraced officer by the coat collar, he marched him forcibly to the door, saying, as he ejected him into the passage, “Sir, I give you fair warning never to show yourself in this room again.  I can bear censure, but not insult!” In a whining tone the man begged for his papers, which he had dropped.  “Begone, sir,” said the President, “your papers will be sent to you.  I wish never to see your face again!”

Much has been said about Lincoln’s views on religion.  Like many other great men, he was not what might technically be called a Christian.  He was a religious man in spirit and by nature; yet he never joined a church.  Mrs. Lincoln says that he had no religious faith, in the usual acceptation of the word, but that religion was a sort of poetry in his nature.  “Twice during his life,” she said, “he seemed especially to think about it.  Once was when our boy Willie died.  Once—­and this time he thought of it more deeply—­was when he went to Gettysburg.”  But whatever his inner thoughts may have been, no man on earth had a firmer faith in Providence than Abraham Lincoln.  Perhaps he did not himself know just where he stood.  He believed in God—­in immortality.  He did not believe in eternal punishment, but was confident of rest and peace after this life was over.  He may not have felt certain of the divine origin of all parts of the Bible, but he valued its precepts, and his whole life gave evidence of faith in a higher power than that of man.  Mr. Nicolay, his secretary, testifies that “his nature was deeply religious, but he belonged to no denomination; he had faith in the eternal justice and boundless mercy of Providence, and made the Golden Rule of Christ his practical creed.”  And Dr. Phillips Brooks, in an eloquent and expressive passage, calls him “Shepherd of the people—­that old name that the best rulers ever craved.  What ruler ever won it like this President of ours?  He fed us faithfully and truly.  He fed us with counsel when we were in doubt, with inspiration when we sometimes faltered, with caution when we would be rash, with calm, clear, trustful cheerfulness through many an hour when our hearts were dark.  He fed hungry souls all over the country with sympathy and consolation.  He spread before the whole land feasts of great duty and devotion and patriotism on which the land grew strong.  He fed us with solemn, solid truths.  He taught us the sacredness of government, the wickedness of treason.  He made our souls glad and vigorous with the love of Liberty that was in his.  He showed us how to love truth, and yet be charitable; how to hate wrong and all oppression, and yet not treasure one personal injury or insult.  He fed all his people, from the highest to the lowest, from the most privileged down to the most enslaved.  ‘He fed them with a faithful and true heart.’”