A gleam of humor came into the unfathomable eyes of the President.
“Mr. Stanton never appreciates my stories,” he said, quizzically, “and when he coughs that way I know what he means.” Then, turning to George, he continued: “My lad, you are one of the heroes of the war! I had intended giving you, too, a commission, but I find you are too young. But I suppose you want to see more of the war?”
“Indeed I do, Mr. Lincoln!” cried George.
“Well, since poor Mitchell is dead, how would you like to go as a volunteer aid on the staff of one of our generals?”
“The very thing!” said the boy, with ardor.
Mr. Lincoln faced his Secretary of War.
“You don’t always let me have my own way, Mr. Secretary,” he observed, dryly, “but I think you must oblige me in this.”
“The boy’s pretty young,” answered the Secretary, “but I fancy it can be arranged.”
“Very good,” said the President. “And now, George, if you behave with half the pluck in the future that you have shown in the past, I’ll have no fear for you. Do your duty, and some day you may live to see—as I may not live to see—a perfect reunion between North and South; for God surely does not intend that one great people shall divide into two separate nations.”
George left the White House in a perfect glow of enthusiasm. The very next day he was ordered to join the staff of General George H. Thomas, and he joyfully obeyed the summons to leave Washington. His only regret was in parting from Waggie, whom he was obliged to entrust to the care of a friend of Secretary Stanton’s. The boy saw plenty of army life throughout the rest of the war. When the conflict was over he hurried back to Washington, found Waggie alive and well, and then went home with him to Cincinnati. Here he had a startling but delightful reunion with his father, whose mysterious disappearance had been due to his capture by the Confederates, and an incarceration for many months in an out-of-the-way Southern prison.