Abraham Lincoln Civil War Stories by Joe Wheeler

Author:Joe Wheeler [Wheeler, Joe]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Howard Books
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Depiction of the cast of Lincoln’s right hand made by Leonard W. Volk in 1860.

THE HEART OF LINCOLN

LOUIS B. REYNOLDS

It is hard to envision any other president in American history responding as Lincoln did, during just one of the many, many visits he made to hospitals during the war.

The irony of life was never more strikingly illustrated than when the conduct of the bloodiest war in history fell into the hands of one who, perhaps more than any other man of history, shrank from the thought of human suffering. Of all the characteristics of Abraham Lincoln, his encompassing tenderness, coupled with his own melancholy, has most endeared him to the hearts of the human race. “The great, gentle giant,” wrote one of his biographers, “had a feeling of sympathy for every living creature. He was not ashamed to rock a cradle, or to carry a pail of water or an armful of wood to spare a tired woman’s arms.”

A day in May, 1863, found him visiting a camp hospital. He had spoken cheering words of sympathy to the wounded as he proceeded through the various wards.

Presently he was at the bedside of a Vermont boy of about sixteen years of age, who lay mortally wounded. Taking the dying boy’s thin, bleached hands in his own, the President said in a tender tone: “Well, my boy, what can I do for you?”

The young soldier looked up into the President’s kindly face and asked: “Won’t you write to my mother for me?”

“That I will,” responded the President, and, calling for writing materials, he seated himself by the side of the cot and wrote from the boy’s dictation. It was a long letter, but he betrayed no sign of weariness, and when it was finished he arose, saying: “I will post this as soon as I get back to my office. Now, is there anything else that I can do for you?”

The boy looked up appealingly to the President. “Won’t you stay with me? I do want to hold on to your hand.”

Mr. Lincoln at once perceived the lad’s meaning. The appeal was too strong for him to resist; so he sat down by his side and took hold of his thin hand. For two hours the President sat there patiently, as though he had been the boy’s father.

When the end came, he bent over and folded the pale hands over the young soldier’s breast, and left the hospital in tears.

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