EXECUTIVE MANSION, WASHINGTON, August 22, 18

HON. HORACE GREELEY.

Dear Sir I have just read yours of the 19th, dressed to myself through the New York "Tribune." there be in it any statements or assumptions of fact w I may know to be erroneous, I do not, now and h controvert them. If there be in it any inferences w I may believe to be falsely drawn, I do not, now and h argue against them. If there be perceptible in it an patient and dictatorial tone, I waive it in deference to old friend whose heart I have always supposed to right.

As to the policy I "seem to be pursuing," as you s I have not meant to leave any one in doubt.

I would save the Union. I would save it the short way under the Constitution. The sooner the natio authority can be restored, the nearer the Union will "the Union as it was." If there be those who would r save the Union unless they could at the same time sa slavery, I do not agree with them. If there be those w would not save the Union unless they could at the sar time destroy slavery, I do not agree with them. My par mount object in this struggle is to save the Union, and not either to save or to destroy slavery. If I could sa the Union without freeing any slave, I would do it; an if I could save it by freeing all the slaves, I would do it and if I could save it by freeing some and leaving other alone, I would also do that. What I do about slavery an the colored race, I do because I believe it helps to sav the Union; and what I forbear, I forbear because I d not believe it would help to save the Union. I shall d less whenever I shall believe what I am doing hurts the

One Purpose

cause, and I shall do more whenever I shall believe doing more will help the cause. I shall try to correct errors when shown to be errors, and I shall adopt new views so fast as they shall appear to be true views.

I have here stated my purpose according to my view of official duty; and I intend no modification of my oftexpressed personal wish that all men everywhere could be free.

Yours,

A. LINCOLN

A bread riot in the capital of the Confederacy

(To Mrs. Roger A. Pryor, from Richmond, April 4, 1863)

Y DEAR: I hope you appreciate the fact that you MY are herewith honored with a letter written in royalred ink upon sumptuous gilt-edged paper. There is not, at the present writing, one inch of paper for sale in the capital of the Confederacy, at all within the humble means of the wife of a Confederate officer. Well is it for herand I hope for you - that her youthful admirers were few, and so her gorgeous cream-and-gold album was only half filled with tender effusions. Out come the blank leaves, to be divided between her friend and her Colonel. Don't be alarmed at the color of the writing. I have not yet dipped my goose-quill (there are no steel pens) in the "ruddy drops that visit my sad heart," nor yet into good orthodox red ink. There are fine oaks in the country, and that noble tree bears a gall-nut filled with crimson sap. One lies on my table, and into its sanguinary heart I plunge my pen.

Something very sad has just happened in Richmondsomething that makes me ashamed of all my jeremiads over the loss of the pretty comforts and conveniences of life — hats, bonnets, gowns, stationery, books, magazines,

dainty food. Since the weather has been so pleasant, I have been in the habit of walking in the Capitol Square before breakfast every morning. Somehow nothing so sets me up after a restless night as a glimpse of the dandelions waking up from their dewy bed and the songs of the birds in the Park. Yesterday, upon arriving, I found within the gates a crowd of women and boys - several hundred of them, standing quietly together. I sat on a bench near, and one of the number left the rest and took the seat beside me. She was a pale, emaciated girl, not more than eighteen, with a sunbonnet on her head, and dressed in a clean calico gown. "I could stand no longer," she explained. As I made room for her, I observed that she had delicate features and large eyes. Her hair and dress were neat. As she raised her hand to remove her sunbonnet and use it for a fan, her loose calico sleeve slipped up, and revealed the mere skeleton of an arm. She perceived my expression as I looked at it, and hastily pulled down her sleeve with a short laugh. "This is all that's left of me!" she said. "It seems real funny, don't it?" Evidently she had been a pretty girl-a dressmaker's apprentice, I judged from her chafed forefinger and a certain skill in the lines of her gown. I was encouraged to ask: "What is it? Is there some celebration?"

"There is," said the girl solemnly ; 66 Iwe celebrate our right to live. We are starving. As soon as enough of us get together we are going to the bakeries and each of us will take a loaf of bread. That is little enough for the government to give us after it has taken all our men."

Just then a fat old black Mammy waddled up the walk to overtake a beautiful child who was running before her, "Come dis a way, honey," she called, “don't go nigh dem people," adding, in a lower tone, "I's feared you'll ketch

somethin' fum dem po'-white folks. I wonder dey lets 'em into de Park."

The girl turned to me with a wan smile, and as she rose to join the long line that had now formed and was moving, she said simply, "Good-by! I'm going to get something to eat!"

“And I devoutly hope you'll get it—and plenty of it," I told her. The crowd now rapidly increased, and numbered, I am sure, more than a thousand women and children. It grew and grew until it reached the dignity of a mob —a bread riot. They impressed all the light carts they met, and marched along silently and in order. They marched through Cary Street and Main, visiting the stores of the speculators and emptying them of their contents. Governor Letcher sent the mayor to read the Riot Act, and as this had no effect he threatened to fire on the

crowd. The city battalion then came up. The women fell back with frightened eyes, but did not obey the order to disperse. The President then appeared, ascended a dray, and addressed them. It is said he was received at first with hisses from the boys, but after he had spoken some little time with great kindness and sympathy, the women quietly moved on, taking their food with them. General Elzey and General Winder wished to call troops from the camps to 66 suppress the women," ," but Mr. Seddon, wise man, declined to issue the order. While I write women and children are still standing in the streets, demanding food, and the government is issuing to them rations of rice.

This is a frightful state of things. I am telling you of it because not one word has been said in the newspapers about it. All will be changed, Judge Campbell tells me, if we can win a battle or two (but, oh, at what a price !), and regain the control of our railroads. Your General has

been magnificent. He has fed Lee's army all winter — I wish he could feed our starving women and children.

Dearly,

AGNES

President Lincoln acknowledges his error to General Grant

EXECUTIVE MANSION, WASHINGTON, July 13, 1863

MAJOR-GENERAL GRANT.

My Dear General: I do not remember that you and I ever met personally. I write this now as a grateful acknowledgment for the almost inestimable service you have done the country. I wish to say a word further. When you first reached the vicinity of Vicksburg, I thought you should do what you finally did — march the troops across the neck, run the batteries with the transports, and thus go below; and I never had any faith, except a general hope that you knew better than I, that the Yazoo Pass expedition and the like could succeed. When you got below and took Port Gibson, Grand Gulf, and vicinity, I thought you should go down the river and join General Banks, and when you turned northward, east of the Big Black, I feared it was a mistake. I now wish to make the personal acknowledgment that you were right and I was wrong.

Yours very truly,

A. LINCOLN

The evacuation of Richmond as a woman saw it

(To Mrs. Roger A. Pryor)

RICHMOND, April 5, 1865

MY DEAR: I am not at all sure you will ever receive

this letter, but I shall risk it. First, I join you in humble thanks to God for the great mercy accorded both