iples of right and justice, bound up in the meshes of hatred,
revenge, and tyranny, that the pens of mighty men like Clay,
Webster, Crittenden, and Lincoln were unable to disentangle.

"Wishing you all success, I am, with respect, your friend,

"W. T. Sherman."

Mrs. Grant had asked Edward to send her a photograph of himself, and
after one had been taken, the boy took it to the Fifth Avenue Hotel,
intending to ask the clerk to send it to her room. Instead, he met
General and Mrs. Grant just coming from the elevator, going out to
dinner. The boy told them his errand, and said he would have the
photograph sent up-stairs.

"I am so sorry we are just going out to dinner," said Mrs. Grant, "for
the general had some excellent photographs just taken of himself, and he
signed one for you, and put it aside, intending to send it to you when
yours came." Then, turning to the general, she said: "Ulysses, send up
for it. We have a few moments."

"I'll go and get it. I know just where it is," returned the general.
"Let me have yours," he said, turning to Edward. "I am glad to exchange
photographs with you, boy."

To Edward's surprise, when the general returned he brought with him, not
a duplicate of the small _carte-de-visite_ size which he had given the
general--all that he could afford--but a large, full cabinet size.

"They make 'em too big," said the general, as he handed it to Edward.

But the boy didn't think so!

That evening was one that the boy was long to remember. It suddenly came
to him that he had read a few days before of Mrs. Abraham Lincoln's
arrival in New York at Doctor Holbrook's sanitarium. Thither Edward
went; and within half an hour from the time he had been talking with
General Grant he was sitting at the bedside of Mrs. Lincoln, showing her
the wonderful photograph just presented to him. Edward saw that the
widow of the great Lincoln did not mentally respond to his pleasure in
his possession. It was apparent even to the boy that mental and physical
illness had done their work with the frail frame. But he had the memory,
at least, of having got that close to the great President.

Mrs. Abraham Lincoln, October 13th 1881

The eventful evening, however, was not yet over. Edward had boarded a
Broadway stage to take him to his Brooklyn home when, glancing at the
newspaper of a man sitting next to him, he saw the headline: "Jefferson
Davis arrives in New York." He read enough to see that the Confederate