I offered him more oats.
Stablemen were arriving. Bill Slade appeared.
“Good mawnin’, Mistah President. How is you this mawnin’?”
A fine person, Bill Slade—from Kentucky.
I must give away that telltale hat. It cost me eight dollars. Certainly, Mary must never find it; that would mean severe hysteria.
I have been considering the purchase of a taller horse. No, Old Abe will serve me. I must shorten the stirrups. I appreciate his easy gaits. Gentleness—something hard to come by these days.
Desk
William Seward—I wanted to call him Will, wanted to bridge the gap that exists between us, a gap some three years wide. As my Secretary of State he has assisted the government through his foreign diplomacy; as an ardent anti‑slave man he has successfully blocked the Confederacy through foreign influence. As governor of New York he left an enviable record; as senator he is above reproach. With his friendly Irish spirit, he has favored Irish immigration. With his eye on the presidency he has not spared me.
As friend of Jefferson Davis and his wife, I have had to work to allay suspicions, suspicions that have proved ungrounded. Seward’s eye on the presidency will continue beyond my stay in the White House. He has an intense desire to improve our nation, to push on; I admire his faith in tomorrow. Unfortunately, he has not always manifested political balance. When he suggested an all-out war with Europe, to force an amalgamation of North and South, I was utterly nonplussed.