you with a bouquet!" The situation was momentarily embarrassing; and I was puzzled to know how "His Excellency" would get out of it. With no appearance of discomposure, he stooped down, took the flowers, and, looking from them into the sparkling eyes and radiant face of the lady, said with a gallantry I was unprepared for,—"Really, madam, if you give them to me, and they are mine, I think I cannot possibly make so good a use of them as to present them to you, in return!" Chesterfield could not have extricated himself from the dilemma with more tact and address; and the incident, trifling in itself, may serve to illustrate that there existed in the ci-devant "rail-splitter" and "flat-boatman"—uncouth and half-civilized as many supposed him—the essential elements of the true gentleman.
I was always touched by the President's manner of receiving the salute of the guard at the White House. Whenever he appeared in the portico, on his way to or from the War or Treasury Department, or on any excursion down the avenue, the first glimpse of him was, of course, the signal for the sentinel on duty to "present arms." This was always acknowledged by Mr. Lincoln with a peculiar bow and touch of the hat, no matter bow many times it might occur in the course of a day; and it always seemed to me as much a compliment to the devotion of the soldiers, on his part, as it was the sign of duty and deference on the part of the guard.
