Even when Mrs. Lincoln was in command at the White House, he was not invariably dutiful.  An amusing instance was observed by some high officials.  The luncheon hour arrived in the midst of an important conference.  Presently, a servant appeared reminding Mr. Lincoln of the hour, but he took no notice.  Another summons, and again no notice.  After a short interval, the door of the office flew open and the titular “First Lady” flounced into the room, a ruffled, angry little figure, her eyes flashing.  With deliberate quiet, as if in a dream, Lincoln rose slowly, took her calmly, firmly by the shoulders, lifted her, carried her through the doorway, set her down, closed the door, and went on with the conference as if unconscious of an interruption.(23) Mrs. Lincoln did not return.  The remainder of the incident is unknown.

The burden of many anecdotes that were included in the propaganda was his kindness to children.  It began with his own.  His little rascal “Tad,” after Willie’s death, was the apple of his eye.  The boy romped in and out of his office.  Many a time he was perched on his father’s knee while great affairs of state were under discussion.(24) Lincoln could persuade any child from the arms of its mother, nurse, or play fellow, there being a “peculiar fascination in his voice and manner which the little one could not resist."(25)

All impressionable, imaginative young people, brought into close association with him, appear to have felt his spell.  His private secretaries were his sworn henchmen.  Hay’s diary rings with admiration—­the keen, discriminating, significant admiration of your real observer.  Hay refers to him by pet name-"The Ancient,” “The Old Man,” “The Tycoon.”  Lincoln’s entire relation with these gifted youngsters may be typified by one of Hay’s quaintest anecdotes.  Lincoln had gone to bed, as so often he did, with a book.  “A little after midnight as I was writing, the President came into the office laughing, with a volume of Hood’s Works in his hand, to show Nicolay and me the little caricature, ‘An Unfortunate Being’; seemingly utterly unconscious that he, with his short shirt hanging about his long legs, and setting out behind like the tail feathers of an enormous ostrich, was infinitely funnier than anything in the book he was laughing at.  What a man it is! occupied all day with matters of vast moment, deeply anxious about the fate of the greatest army of the world, with his own plans and future hanging on the events of the passing hour, he yet has such a wealth of simple bonhomie and good fellowship that he gets out of bed and perambulates the house in his shirt to find us that we may share with him the fun of poor Hood’s queer little conceits."(26)

In midsummer, 1863, “The Tycoon is in fine whack.  I have rarely seen him more serene and busy.  He is managing this war, the draft, foreign relations, and planning a reconstruction of the Union, all at once.  I never knew with what a tyrannous authority he rules the Cabinet, until now.  The most important things he decides and there is no cavil.  I am growing more convinced that the good of the country demands that he should be kept where he is till this thing is over.  There is no man in the country so wise, so gentle, and so firm."(27)