On a late occasion, when the White House was open to the public, a farmer from one of the border counties of Virginia told Uncle Abe that the Union soldiers, in passing his farm, had helped themselves not only to hay, but his horses, and he hoped the President would urge the proper officer to consider his claim immediately. "Why, my dear sir," replied Uncle Abe, blandly, "I couldn't think of such a thing. If I considered individual cases, I should find work for twenty Presidents!" Bowie urged his needs persistently; Uncle Abe declined good-naturedly. "But," said the persevering sufferer, "couldn't you just give me a line to Colonel ———- about it? just one line?" "Ha, ha, ha!" responded amiable Uncle Abe, shaking himself fervently, and crossing his legs the other way, "that reminds me of old Jack Chase out in Illinois." At this the crowd huddled forward to listen. "You have seen Jack—I knew him like a brother—used to be a lumberman on the Illinois, and he was steady and sober, and the best raftsman on the river. It was quite a trick twenty-five years ago to take the logs over the rapids, but he was skillful, with a raft, and always kept her straight in the channel. Finally a steamboat was put on, and Jack—he's dead now, poor fellow!—was made captain of her. He used to take the wheel going through the rapids. One day, when the boat was plunging and wallowing along the boiling current, and Jack's utmost vigilance was exercised to keep her in the narrow channel, a boy pulled his coat tail, and hailed him with, 'Sir, Mister Captain! I wish you'd just stop your boat a minute—I've lost my apple overboard!'"