relations of Blair with Stanton also were such that it was difficult for the two to remain.”  A little later came the resignation of Attorney-General Bates, which, says Mr. Welles, “has initiated more intrigues.  A host of candidates are thrust forward—­Evarts, Holt, Gushing, Whiting, and the Lord knows who, are all candidates.”  This gives but a faint idea of the embarrassments and dissensions among Lincoln’s friends and official advisers, and of the ceaseless efforts and infinite tact that were needed to maintain a decent degree of harmony among them.

Early in December the President submitted to Congress his fourth annual message—­a brief and businesslike statement of the prospects and purposes of the Government.  Its first sentence is:  “The most remarkable feature in the military operations of the year is General Sherman’s attempted march of three hundred miles directly through the insurgent region.”  Then follows a reference to the important movements that had occurred during the year, “to the effect of moulding society for durability in the Union.”  The document closes with the following explicit statement:  “In presenting the abandonment of armed resistance to the national authority, on the part of the insurgents, as the only indispensable condition to ending the war on the part of the Government, I retract nothing heretofore said as to slavery.  If the people should, by whatever mode or means, make it an executive duty to re-enslave such persons, another, and not I, must be their instrument to perform it.  In stating a single condition of peace, I mean simply to say that the war will cease on the part of the Government whenever it shall have ceased on the part of those who began it.”

New Year’s day, 1865, was marked by a memorable incident.  Among the crowds gathered in the White House grounds stood groups of colored people, watching with eager eyes the tide of people flowing in at the open door to exchange salutations with the President.  It was a privilege heretofore reserved for the white race; but now, as the line of visitors thinned, showing that the reception was nearly over, the boldest of the colored men drew near the door with faltering step.  Some were in conventional attire, others in fantastic dress, and others again in laborers’ garb.  The novel procession moved into the vestibule and on into the room where the President was holding the republican court.  Timid and doubting, though determined, they ventured where their oppressed and down-trodden race had never appeared before, and with the keen, anxious, inquiring look on their dark faces, seemed like a herd of wild creatures from the woods, in a strange and dangerous place.  The reception had been unusually well attended, and the President was nearly overcome with weariness; but when he saw the dusky faces of his unwonted visitors, he rallied from his fatigue and gave them a hearty welcome.  They were wild with joy.  Thronging about him, they pressed and kissed his hand, laughing and weeping at once, and exclaiming, “God bless Massa Linkum!” It was a scene not easy to forget:  the thanks and adoration of a race paid to their deliverer.