As the desperation of the South and the opposition to Lincoln at the North increased, fears were entertained by his friends that an attempt might be made upon his life.  Lincoln himself paid but little heed to these forebodings of evil.  He said, philosophically:  “I long ago made up my mind that if anybody wants to kill me, he will do it.  If I wore a shirt of mail and kept myself surrounded by a bodyguard, it would be all the same.  There are a thousand ways of getting at a man if it is desired that he should be killed.  Besides, in this case, it seems to me, the man who would succeed me would be just as objectionable to my enemies—­if I have any.”  One dark night, as he was going out with a friend, he took along a heavy cane, remarking good-humoredly that “mother” (Mrs. Lincoln) had “got a notion into her head that I shall be assassinated, and to please her I take a cane when I go over to the War Department at nights—­when I don’t forget it.”

It is probable that the attempts upon the life of President Lincoln were more numerous than is generally known.  An incident of a very thrilling character, which might easily have involved a shocking tragedy, is related by Mr. John W. Nichols, who from the summer of 1862 until 1865 was one of the President’s body-guard.  “One night, about the middle of August, 1864,” says Mr. Nichols, “I was doing sentinel duty at the large gate through which entrance was had to the grounds of the Soldiers’ Home, near Washington, where Mr. Lincoln spent much time in summer.  About eleven o’clock I heard a rifle-shot in the direction of the city, and shortly afterwards I heard approaching hoof-beats.  In two or three minutes a horse came dashing up, and I recognized the belated President.  The horse he rode was a very spirited one, and was Mr. Lincoln’s favorite saddle-horse.  As horse and rider approached the gate, I noticed that the President was bareheaded.  As soon as I had assisted him in checking his steed, the President said to me:  ’He came pretty near getting away with me, didn’t he?  He got the bit in his teeth before I could draw the rein.’  I then asked him where his hat was; and he replied that somebody had fired a gun off down at the foot of the hill, and that his horse had become scared and had jerked his hat off.  I led the animal to the Executive Cottage, and the President dismounted and entered.  Thinking the affair rather strange, a corporal and myself started off to investigate.  When we reached the place whence the sound of the shot had come—­a point where the driveway intersects, with the main road—­we found the President’s hat.  It was a plain silk hat, and upon examination we discovered a bullet-hole through the crown.  We searched the locality thoroughly, but without avail.  Next day I gave Mr. Lincoln his hat, and called his attention to the bullet-hole.  He made some humorous remark, to the effect that it was made by some foolish marksman and was not intended for him; but added that he wished nothing said about the matter.  We all felt confident it was an attempt to kill the President, and after that he never rode alone.”