pressed for the pardon of a slave-trader whose ship had been confiscated. He had spent five years in prison, but could not pay the heavy fine in money imposed.
The President had taken his seat again, and read the eloquent appeal for mercy. He looked up over his spectacles, fixed his eyes piercingly on the Congressman and said:
"This is a moving appeal, sir, expressed with great eloquence. I might pardon a murderer under the spell of such words, but a man who can make a business of going to Africa and robbing her of her helpless children and selling them into bondage—no, sir—he may rot in jail before he shall have liberty by any act of mine!"
Again the mother's heart sank.
Her hour had come. She must put the issue of life or death to the test, and, as Elsie rose and stepped quickly forward, she followed, nerving herself for the ordeal.
The President took Elsie's hand familiarly and smiled without rising. Evidently she was well-known to him.
"Will you hear the prayer of a broken-hearted mother of the South, who has lost four sons in General Lee's army?" she asked.
Looking quietly past the girl, he caught sight, for the first time, of the faded dress and the sorrow-shadowed face.
He was on his feet in a moment, extended his hand and led her to a chair.
"Take this seat, Madam, and then tell me in your own way what I can do for you."
In simple words, mighty with the eloquence of a mother's heart, she told her story and asked for the pardon of her
