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Tad was evidently consoled for this tragic event by not one goat, but a whole family of them, for about a year later Mr. Lincoln ended a business telegram to his wife in New York with the words: “Tell Tad the goats and father are very well,” and with a gleam of that humour for which he was famous, the great-hearted, patient man added, “especially the goats!”

Again a friend of the Lincolns’ sent them a fine live turkey to be used for the President’s Christmas dinner, but long before that time the turkey and Tad had become bosom friends. Tad named him Jack and used more patience in trying to teach him tricks than he could ever be persuaded to give to his lessons. One day just before the holiday, while President Lincoln was discussing a matter of gravest importance with his cabinet ministers, Tad burst into the room as if shot out of a cannon and sobbing as if nothing could ever comfort him. Of course, business came to a standstill while Tad explained; Jack was about to be killed, he must not be killed, it was wicked, and Tad had forced the executioners to stay their hands while he laid the case before the President. Jack should not be killed! sobbed out the indignant little tyrant.

“But,” said the President quietly, “Jack was sent to be killed and eaten for this very Christmas.”

“I can’t help it,” roared Tad, between his sobs. “He’s a good turkey and I don’t want him killed.”

The President of the United States paused in the midst of the important business under discussion, and with the gravity due to a solemn occasion, took a card and wrote on it an order of reprieve for the turkey, which Tad seized, and fled with all speed, and Jack’s life was saved. He became very tame, and roamed peacefully about the grounds at will, enduring petting and teasing alternately, from his capricious young master. At that time the White House was guarded by a company of soldiers from Pennsylvania with whom the turkey was a great favourite. The tents of these soldiers were on the Potomac side of the White House, at the end of the South lawn, and in the summer of 1864 a commission was sent down from Pennsylvania to take the votes of the Pennsylvania soldiers in Washington for the coming election. Tad was, as usual, much interested in what was going on, and dragged his father to the window to see the soldiers voting, while Jack stalked around among them, apparently intelligent and interested.

“Does Jack vote?” asked Lincoln with a roguish twinkle in his eye.

For a moment Tad was nonplussed by the unexpected question, but he was as quick as he was keen, and rallying, he answered:

“Why no, of course not. He isn’t of age yet!”

Another of Tad’s great diversions was to stand around among the crowd of office-seekers who daily filled the corridors leading to President Lincoln’s office, for their turn to see the President. Tad used to talk with them, while they waited, asking them all sorts of impertinent questions which were always taken in good faith, because he was the President’s son, and known to be such a favourite that he might be a valuable ally. Some of the office-seekers came day after day without ever obtaining an interview with Lincoln, and with these Tad grew quite intimate; some of them he shrewdly advised to go home and chop wood for a living, others he tried to dismiss by promising them that he would speak to his father of their case, if they would not come back again unless they were sent for, and with one and all he was a great favourite, he was so bright and cunning, and too, all were eager to have the good will of the little fellow, for motives not always the highest. This, shrewd little Tad discovered, and he decided to put his popularity to use, so one morning when the line of callers began to form, they found Tad standing at the foot of the staircase, where he made every one who passed up pay him five cents for the benefit of the Sanitary Fund, as he explained while he was gathering in the nickels.