the last blows struck at the Confederacy, and Sheridan, realizing the situation, made a hasty report, ending with the words, "If the thing is pressed I think Lee will surrender." Grant forwarded the despatch to President Lincoln, who instantly replied, "Let the thing be pressed." When he had read the telegram describing Sheridan's last fight with Early in the Shenandoah Valley, he remarked that he once knew a man who loaded a piece of punk with powder, lighted it, clapped it inside a biscuit, and tossed it to a savage dog that was snarling at him. In an instant the dog snapped it up and swallowed it. Presently the fire touched the powder and away went the dog, his head in one place, a leg here and another there, and the different parts scattered all over the country. And," said the man, as for the dog, as a dog, I was never able to find him." "And that," remarked the President, "is very much the condition of Early's army, as an army." 66 President Lincoln's appearance in Richmond after the Confederacy fell to pieces was one of the most dramatic scenes in all history because of its extreme simplicity and the entire absence of rejoicing or parade. There was no triumphant entrance, as the world might have expected when a conqueror occupies the capital of the conquered. Never before or since has an event of such transcendent significance occurred with so little ostentation or ceremony. Lincoln was at City Point, the head-quarters of General Grant, and was lodged upon a little steamer called the "River Queen" when he heard of the capture of Richmond and the fire that consumed a large part of that city. The same day he went up the river without escort of any kind, landed at a wharf near Libby Prison, found a guide among the colored people that were hanging around the place, and walked a mile or more to the centre of the city. The loafers at the wharf soon identified the President and surrounded him, striving to touch the hem of his garment. To protect the President and open a passage for him, Admiral Porter called sailors from his boat, who marched in front and behind him to the town. Lincoln did not realize the danger that surrounded him; he did not remember that he was in the midst of a community with whom he was still at war, or that they held him responsible for the sorrows they had suffered, the distress they had endured, and the destruction of their property. But, although within an hour from the time he landed every man, woman, and child knew of his presence, not a hand was lifted against him, not an unkina word was said; and, after visiting the head-quarters of General Weitzel, who was in command of the Union troops, the Capitol of the State which had been the seat of the Confederate government, the mansion which Jefferson Davis had occupied, Libby Prison, where so many officers had starved and died, and holding two important interviews with John A. Campbell, the Confederate Secretary of War, who had remained in Richmond when the rest of the government fled, he went leisurely back to his boat, returned to the steamer, and sailed for Washington, where, only a few days later, surrounded by his loyal friends and in the midst of an ovation, he was stricken by the bullet of an assassin. Lincoln's personal courage was demonstrated early in life. He never showed a sense of fear. He never refused a challenge for a trial of strength, nor avoided an adventure that was attended by danger; and while President he had no fear of assassination, although he had many warnings and was quite superstitious. He was accustomed to ridicule the anxiety of his friends, and when the threats of his enemies were repeated to him he changed the subject of conversation. Senator Sumner was one of those who believed that he was in continual danger of assassination, and frequently cautioned him about going out at night. When the Senator's anxiety was referred to by friends one evening, the President said, "Sumner declined to stand up with me, back to back, to see which was the tallest man, and made a fine speech about this being the time for uniting our fronts against the enemy and not our backs. But I guess he was afraid to measure, though he is a good piece of a man. I have never had much to do with bishops where I live, but, do you know? Sumner is my idea of a bishop." In his reminiscences, General Butler says, "He was personally a very brave man and gave me the worst fright of my life. He came to my head-quarters and said, 66 6 'General, I should like to ride along your lines and see them, and see the boys and how they are situated in camp. "I said, ' Very well, we will go after breakfast.' "I happened to have a very tall, easy-riding, pacing horse, and, as the President was rather long-legged, I tendered him the use of him while I rode beside him on a pony. He was dressed, as was his custom, in a black suit, a swallow-tail coat, and tall silk hat. As there rode on the other side of him at first Mr. Fox, the Secretary of the Navy, who was not more than five feet six inches in height, he stood out as a central figure of the group. Of course the staff-officers and orderly were behind. When we got to the line of intrenchment, from which the line of rebel pickets was not more than three hundred yards, he towered high above the works, and as we came to the several encampments the boys cheered him lustily. Of course the enemy's attention was wholly directed to this performance, and with the glass it could be plainly seen that the eyes of their officers were fastened upon Lincoln; and a personage riding down the lines cheered by the soldiers was a very unusual thing, so that the enemy must have known |