I formally presented General Barringer, of North Carolina, to the President of the United States, and Mr. Lincoln extended his hand, warmly welcomed him, and bade him be seated. There was, however, only one chair vacant when the President arose, and this the Southerner very politely declined to take.
This left the two men facing each other in the centre of the tent, the tall form of Mr. Lincoln almost reaching the ridge-pole. He slowly removed his eye-glasses, looked the General over from head to foot, and then in a slow, meditative, and puzzled manner inquired:
“Barringer? Barringer? from North Carolina? Barringer of North Carolina? General, were you ever in Congress?”
“No, Mr. Lincoln, I never was,” replied the General.
“Well, I thought not; I thought my memory couldn’t be so much at fault. But there was a Barringer in Congress with me, and from your State too!”
“That was my brother, sir,” said Barringer.
Up to this moment the hard face of the President had that thoughtful, troubled expression with which those of us who knew him were only too familiar, but now the lines melted away, and the eyes and the tongue both laughed. I cannot describe the change, though I still see it and shall never forget it. It was like a great sudden burst of sunshine in a rain storm.
“Well! well!” exclaimed the great and good man, burying for the moment all thought of war, its cares, its asperities, and the frightful labor it had imposed upon him; his heart welling up only to the joyous reminiscence which the meeting brought to him.
“Well! well!” said he; “do you know that that brother of yours was my chum in Congress. Yes, sir, we sat at the same desk and ate at the same table. He was a Whig and so was I. He was my chum, and I was very fond of him. And you are his brother, eh? Well! well! shake again.” And once more in the pressure of his great big hand his heart went out to this man in arms against the government, simply because his brother had been his chum and was a good fellow.
A couple more chairs by this time had been added to the scant furniture of the Adjutant-General’s tent, and the conversation drifted from Mr. Lincoln’s anecdotes of the pleasant hours he and Barringer had spent together, to the war, thence to the merits of military and civil leaders, North and South, illustrated here and there by some appropriate story, entirely new, full of humor and sometimes of pathos.