Mr. Lincoln said that this reminded him of an old acquaintance of his, “Jack Chase,” who used to be a lumberman on the Illinois, a steady, sober man, and the best raftsman on the river.  It was quite a trick, twenty-five years ago, to take the logs over the rapids; but he was skilful with a raft, and always kept her straight in the channel.  Finally a steamer was put on, and Jack was made captain of her.  He always used to take the wheel going through the rapids.  One day when the boat was plunging and wallowing along the boiling current, and Jack’s utmost vigilance was being exercised to keep her in the narrow channel, a boy pulled his coat-tail, and hailed him with:  “Say, Mister Captain!  I wish you would just stop your boat a minute—­I’ve lost my apple overboard!”

THE PRESIDENT’S SILENCE OVER CRITICISMS

The President was once speaking about an attack made on him by the Committee on the Conduct of the War for a certain alleged blunder, or something worse, in the Southwest—­the matter involved being one which had fallen directly under the observation of the officer to whom he was talking, who possessed official evidence completely upsetting all the conclusions of the Committee.

“Might it not be well for me,” queried the officer, “to set this matter right in a letter to some paper, stating the facts as they actually transpired?”

“Oh, no,” replied the President, “at least, not now.  If I were to try to read, much less answer, all the attacks made on me, this shop might as well be closed for any other business.  I do the very best I know how—­the very best I can; and I mean to keep doing so until the end.  If the end brings me out all right, what is said against me won’t amount to anything.  If the end brings me out wrong, ten angels swearing I was right would make no difference.”

“GLAD OF IT”

On the occasion when the telegram from Cumberland Gap reached Mr. Lincoln that “firing was heard in the direction of Knoxville,” he remarked that he was “glad of it.”  Some person present, who had the perils of Burnside’s position uppermost in his mind, could, not see why Mr. Lincoln should be glad of it, and so expressed himself.  “Why, you see,” responded the President, “it reminds me of Mistress Sallie Ward, a neighbour of mine, who had a very large family.  Occasionally one of her numerous progeny would be heard crying in some out-of-the-way place, upon which Mrs. Ward would exclaim, ’There’s one of my children that isn’t dead yet!’”

HIS DEMOCRATIC BEARING