PRESIDENT LINCOLN AND THE SLEEPING SENTINEL

Mr. L. E. Chittenden in his recently issued work, Recollections of Presi dent Lincoln and his Administration, gives the following interesting version of a memorable historic incident:

"The story of the President and the sleeping sentinel has been so many times told that its repetition may seem like the relation of a thrice-told tale. The substantial facts are common to all its versions. A soldier named Scott, condemned to be shot for the crime of sleeping on his post, was pardoned by President Lincoln, only to be killed afterward at the battle of Lee's Mills on the Peninsula. The incidental facts are varied according to the taste, the fancy, or the imagination of the writer of each version. The number of persons who claim to have procured the intervention of the President to save the life of the soldier nearly equals that of the different versions. As these persons worked independently of each other, and one did not know what another had done, it is not improbable that several of them are entitled to some measure of credit, of which I should be most unwilling to deprive them.

The truth is always and everywhere attractive. The child loves and never outgrows its love for a real true story. The story of this young soldier, as it was presented to me, so touchingly reveals some of the kindlier qualities of the President's character that it seldom fails to charm those to whom it is related. I shall give its facts as I understood them, and I think I can guarantee their general accuracy.

On a dark September morning in 1861, when I reached my office, I found waiting there a party of soldiers, none of whom I personally knew. They were greatly excited, all speaking at the same time and consequently unintelligibly. One of them wore the bars of a captain. I said to them pleasantly: 'Boys, I cannot understand you. Pray, let your captain say what you want and what I can do for you.' They complied, and the captain put me in possession of the story, in substance as follows: William Scott, one of these Vermont boys, just of age, accustomed to his regular sound and healthy sleep, not yet inured to the life of the camp, had volunteered to take the place of a sick comrade who had been detailed for picket duty, and had passed the night as a sentinel on guard. The next day he was himself detailed for the same duty and undertook its performance. But he found it impossible to keep awake for two nights

in succession, and had been found by the relief sound asleep at his post. For this offence he had been tried by a court-martial, found guilty, and sentenced to be shot within twenty-four hours after his trial, and on the second morning after his offence was committed.

His comrades had set about saving him in a characteristic way. They had called a meeting, appointed a committee, with power to use all the resources of the regiment in his behalf, and the committee had resolved to call on me for advice because I was a Vermonter, and they had already marched from the camp to my office in Washington since daylight that morning.

The captain took all the blame from Scott upon himself. Scott's mother opposed his enlistment on the ground of his inexperience, and had only consented on the captain's promise to look after him as if he were his own son. This he had wholly failed to do. He must have been asleep or stupid himself, he said, when he paid no attention to the boy's statement that he had fallen asleep during the day, and feared he could not keep awake the second night on picket. Instead of sending some one, or going himself in Scott's place, as he should, he had let him go to his death. He alone was guilty. If any one ought to be shot, I am the fellow, and everybody at home would have the right to say so. There must be some way to save him; he is as good a boy as there is in the army, and he ain't to blame. You will help us, now, won't you?' he said, almost with

tears.

The other members of the committee had a definite if not a practicable plan. They insisted that Scott had not been tried and gave their account of the proceeding. . They had subscribed a sum of money to pay counsel and offered to pledge their credit to any amount necessary to secure the boy a fair trial.

'Come,' I said, there is only one man on earth who can save your comrade. Fortunately he is the best man on the continent. We will go to President Lincoln.' I went swiftly out of the Treasury over to the White House, and up the stairway to the little office where the President was writing. The boys followed in a procession. I did not give the thought time to get any hold of me that I, an officer of the government, was committing an impropriety in thus rushing a matter upon the President's attention. The President was the first to speak. What is this?' he asked. 'An expedition to kidnap somebody, or to get another brigadier appointed, or for a furlough to go home to vote? I cannot do it, gentlemen. Brigadiers are thicker than drum-majors, and I couldn't get a furlough for myself if I asked it from the War Department.' There

was hope in the tone in which he spoke. I went straight to my point. 'Mr. President,' I said, 'these men want nothing for themselves. They are Green Mountain boys of the Third Vermont, who have come to stay as long as you need good soldiers. They don't want promotion until they earn it. But they do want something that you alone can give them-the life of a comrade.'

'What has he done?' asked the President. 'You Vermonters are not a bad lot, generally. Has he committed murder or mutiny, or what other felony?' 'Tell him,' I. whispered to the captain. I cannot! I cannot ! I should stammer like a fool! You can do it better.' 'Captain,' I said, pushing him forward, 'Scott's life depends on you. You must tell the President the story. I only know it from hearsay.' He commenced like the man by the Sea of Galilee who had an impediment in his speech; but very soon the string of his tongue was loosened and he spoke plain. He began to word-paint a picture with the hand of a master. As the words burst from his lips they stirred my own blood. He gave a graphic account of the whole story and ended by saying: 'He is as brave a boy as there is in your army, sir. Scott is no coward. Our mountains breed no cowards. They are the homes of thirty thousand men who voted for Abraham Lincoln. They will not be able to see that the best thing to be done with William Scott will be to shoot him like a traitor and bury him like a dog! Oh, Mr. Lincoln, can you?'

'No, I can't!' exclaimed the President. It was one of the moments when his countenance became such a remarkable study. It had become very earnest as the captain rose with his subject; then it took on that melancholy expression which later in his life became so infinitely touching. I thought I could detect a mist in the deep cavities of his eyes. Then in a flash there was a total change. He smiled and finally broke into a hearty laugh as he asked me: 'Do your Green Mountain boys fight as well as they talk? If they do, I don't wonder at the legends about Ethan Allan.' Then his face softened as he said: 'But what can I do? What do you expect me to do? As you know, I have not much influence with the department.' 'I have not thought the matter out,' I said. 'I feel a deep interest in saving young Scott's life; I think I knew the boy's father. It is useless to apply to General Smith. The only thing to be done was to apply to you. It seems to me that if you would sign an order suspending Scott's execution until his friends can have his case examined I might carry it to the War Department, and so insure the delivery of the order to General Smith to-day through the regular channels of the war office.'

'No! I do not think that course would be safe; you do not know these

officers of the regular army. They are a law unto themselves. They sincerely think it is a good policy occasionally to shoot a soldier. I can see it where a soldier deserts or commits a crime, but I cannot in such a case as Scott's. They say that I am always interfering with the discipline of the army, and being cruel to the soldiers. Well, I can't help it, so I shall have to go right on doing wrong. I do not think an honest, brave soldier, conscious of no crime but sleeping when he was weary, ought to be shot or hung. The country has better uses for him. Captain,' continued the President, your boy shall not be shot-that is, not to-morrow, nor until I know more about his case.' To me the President said: 'I will have to attend to this matter myself. I have for some time intended to go up to the Chain Bridge. I will do so to-day. I shall then know that there is no mistake in suspending the execution.' I remarked that he was undertaking a burden which we had no right to impose; that it was asking too much of the President in behalf of a private soldier.

'Scott's life is as valuable to him as that of any person in the land,' he said. You remember the remark of a Scotchman about the head of a nobleman who was decapitated. It was a small matter of a head, but it was valuable to him, poor fellow, for it was the only one he had.' I saw that remonstrance was vain. I suppressed the rising gratitude of the soldiers, and we took our leave. Two members of the committee' remained to watch events in the city, while the others returned to carry the news of their success to Scott and to the camp. Later in the day the two members reported that the President had started in the direction of the camp; that their work here was ended, and they proposed to return to their quarters. Within a day or two the newspapers reported that a soldier sentenced to be shot for sleeping on his post had been pardoned by the President and returned to his regiment."

JOHN LAW OF INDIANA

A plain marble slab, in accordance with his often-expressed request, marks the resting-place in the Vincennes cemetery of John Law, the historian of Vincennes, a place better known in early times as "Au Poste." To the student of American history who may chance to visit this beautiful city on the Wabash, Judge Law is one of the most interesting characters as well as one of the most noted men who ever dwelt there. This interest in him is due in part to his scholarship, his social traits, his beneficent and conspicuous public services to his country, and to the fact that he was the first authentic historian of Vincennes, or the "fort" on the "Ouabache," first known among the Indians as Chippe Coke or Brush Wood. Post Vincennes was a very important point during the Revolutionary struggle and in the early opening of the great northwest, and for this reason Judge Law's history becomes a valuable source of information to all students.

New London, Connecticut, was the birthplace of Judge Law, and he first saw the light October 2, 1796. His early life was in nowise distinguished from the ordinary youth of his day. When eighteen years old he was graduated from Yale, afterward studied law, and in 1817 was admitted to the bar of the supreme court of his native state. The same year, which was that after Indiana was admitted into the Union, he started for the "great far west," as Post Vincennes was considered when there were no railroads or telegraph lines in the country. In that pioneer French town he opened a law-office and practiced his profession. He soon gained prominence, and in the course of a long and useful life held many responsible official positions. His talents and eloquence advanced him in public estimation, and for nearly half a century he was a leading citizen of the southern part of Indiana.

Not long after the alliance of his interests with those of Vincennes he was elected prosecuting attorney of that circuit, then embracing nearly one-half of the settled portion of the state. It was during his term of office, while Judge Jacob Call was occupying the bench, that the first legal execution took place in Knox county. He was elected to the legislature in 1823 and served in that body actively and well, yet his tastes did not run in political directions and when his term expired he returned to the practice of his profession. In 1830 the Indiana legislature elected him