Two flatboats, loaded with cotton bales, were floated down the Mississippi, at New Orleans. Soaked with alcohol, they were set afire...
My little mulatto brings me my lunch; she bows and says:
“Good day, mistaaaaa President...cawnbread...thais cawnbread on my tray...”
March 29th
I have gone through my desk today, weeding out.
I have had a pigeonhole marked: A.
That’s for assassination.
I think there were about eighty ’nonymous threats in that pigeonhole. I have thrown them into the fireplace. I should have done this long ago. Some of the threats were made by persons who had never been to Washington, whose geographical knowledge would have led them to the stables rather than the White House. Some seemed to think I resided in the Washington monument. One person proposed that he assassinate me on the Presidential yacht. No doubt he felt that would please the press and general public.
It is uncommonly chilly this afternoon; I think I will have a fire in the fireplace. We can have some oak logs to burn up the ashes of the assassins.