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 boy, promising his word of honour and her own that he would never again take up arms against the Union.

"The war is over now, Mr. Lincoln," she said, "and we have lost all. Can you conceive the desolation of my heart? My four boys were noble men. They may have been wrong, but they fought for what they believed to be right. You, too, have lost a boy."

The President's eyes grew dim.

"Yes, a beautiful boy" he said, simply.

"Well, mine are all gone but this baby. One of them sleeps in an unmarked grave at Gettysburg. One died in a Northern prison. One fell at Chancellorsville, one in the Wilderness, and this, my baby, before Petersburg. Perhaps I've loved him too much, this last one—he's only a child yet"

"You shall have your boy, my dear Madam," the President said, simply, seating himself and writing a brief order to the Secretary of War.

The mother drew near his desk, softly crying. Through her tears she said:

"My heart is heavy, Mr. Lincoln, when I think of all the hard and bitter things we have heard of you."

"Well, give my love to the people of South Carolina, when you go home, and tell them that I am their President and that I have never forgotten this fact in the darkest hours of this awful war; and I am going to do everything in my power to help them."

"You will never regret this generous act," the mother cried with gratitude.

"I reckon not," he answered. "I'll tell you something,