He Knew Lincoln

by Ida M. Tarbell

“‘Yes, sir,’ I says, ‘that’s about it, and I’ll be durned if I wouldn’t go to Europe to see you, if I couldn’t do it no other way, Mr. Lincoln.’

“Well, sir, I never was so astonished in my life. He just grabbed my hand and shook it nearly off, and the tears just poured down his face, and he says, ‘Billy, you never’ll know what good you’ve done me. I’m homesick, Billy, just plumb homesick, and it seems as if this war never would be over. Many a night I can see the boys a-dyin’ on the fields and can hear their mothers cryin’ for ’em at home, and I can’t help ’em, Billy. I have to send them down there. We’ve got to save the Union, Billy, we’ve got to.’

“‘Course we have, Mr. Lincoln,’ I says, cheerful as I could, ‘course we have. Don’t you worry. It’s most over. You’re goin’ to be reëlected, and you and old Grant’s goin’ to finish this war mighty quick then. Just keep a stiff upper lip, Mr. Lincoln, and don’t forget them yarns I told you.’ And I started out. But seems as if he couldn’t let me go. ‘Wait a minute, Billy,’ he says, ‘till I get my hat and I’ll walk a piece with you.’ It was one of them still sweet-smellin’ summer nights with no end of stars and you ain’t no idee how pretty ’twas walkin’ down the road. There was white tents showin’ through the trees and every little way a tall soldier standin’ stock still, a gun at his side. Made me feel mighty curious and solemn. By-and-by we come out of the trees to a sightly place where you could look all over Washington—see the Potomac and clean into Virginia. There was a bench there and we set down and after a while Mr. Lincoln he begun to talk. Well, sir, you or nobody ever heard anything like it. Blamed if he didn’t tell me the whole thing—all about the war and the generals and Seward and Sumner and Congress and Greeley and the whole blamed lot. He just opened up his heart if I do say it. Seemed as if he’d come to a p’int where he must let out. I dunno how long we set there—must have been nigh morning, fer the stars begun to go out before he got up to go. ‘Good-by, Billy,’ he says, ‘you’re the first person I ever unloaded onto, and I hope you won’t think I’m a baby,’ and then we shook hands again, and I walked down to town and next day I come home.

“Tell you what he said? Nope, I can’t. Can’t talk about it somehow. Fact is, I never told anybody about what he said that night. Tried to tell ma onct, but she cried, so I give it up.

“Yes, that’s the last time I seen him—last time alive.

“Wan’t long after that things began to look better. War began to move right smart, and, soon as it did, there wan’t no use talkin’ about anybody else for President. I see that plain enough, and, just as I told him, he was reëlected, and him an’ Grant finished up the war in a hurry. I tell you it was a great day out here when we heard Lee had surrendered. ’Twas just like gettin’ converted to have the war over. Somehow the only thing I could think of was how glad Mr. Lincoln would be. Me and ma reckoned he’d come right out and make us a visit and get rested, and we began right off to make plans about the reception we’d give him—brass band—parade—speeches—fireworks—everything. Seems as if I couldn’t think about anything else. I was comin’ down to open the store one mornin’, and all the way down I was plannin’ how I’d decorate the windows and how I’d tie a flag on that old chair, when I see Hiram Jones comin’ toward me. He looked so old and all bent over I didn’t know what had happened. ‘Hiram,’ I says, ‘what’s the matter? Be you sick?’

“‘Billy,’ he says, and he couldn’t hardly say it, ‘Billy, they’ve killed Mr. Lincoln.’

“Well, I just turned cold all over, and then I flared up. ‘Hiram Jones,’ I says, ‘you’re lyin,’ you’re crazy. How dare you tell me that? It ain’t so.’

“‘Don’t Billy,’ he says, ‘don’t go on so. I ain’t lyin’. It’s so. He’ll never come back, Billy. He’s dead!’ And he fell to sobbin’ out loud right there in the street, and somehow I knew it was true.

“I come on down and opened the door. People must have paregoric and castor ile and liniment, no matter who dies; but I didn’t put up the shades. I just sat here and thought and thought and groaned and groaned. It seemed that day as if the country was plumb ruined and I didn’t care much. All I could think of was him. He wan’t goin’ to come back. He wouldn’t never sit here in that chair again. He was dead.