he gives to both North and South this terrible war as the woe due to those by whom the offence came, shall we discern there any departure from those divine attributes which the believers in a living God always ascribe to him? Fondly do we hope, fervently do we pray, that this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away. Yet if God wills that it continue until all the wealth piled by the bondsman's two hundred and fifty years of unrequited toil shall be sunk, and until every drop of blood drawn with the lash shall be paid by another drawn by the sword, as was said three thousand years ago, so still it must be said, that' the judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether.'

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With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right, let us finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation's wounds, to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow and his orphans, to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and a lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations."

It is impossible to describe the effect of the reading of this paper upon those who heard it and those who subsequently read it. Its lofty tone and grand majesty reminded one of the Hebraic prophecies; and its dispassionate and almost merciless dissection of the issues of the struggle for the preservation of the Union, and the dying contortions of the monster, slavery, were received with a feeling of awe. The impression made by the inaugural was profound. It was conclusive of the genius and the intellectual greatness of its author.

T

CHAPTER XXI

END OF A STRANGE, EVENTFUL HISTORY

HE spring of 1865 opened with every prospect of a speedy and complete ending of the Rebellion. Sherman's march to the sea had once more rent the dying Confederacy even more disastrously than the opening of the Mississippi had previously split it into two large fragments. Everywhere, on land and sea, the arms of the Union had been crowned with victory. Sherman's movements in the Carolinas had compelled the abandonment of Charleston. The capture of Fort Fisher by General Terry had virtually closed the last Atlantic port against possible supplies from abroad for the rebel forces. The scattered remnants of their armies were forced to concentrate and rally around Lee for the defence of the rebel capital.

On the 27th of March, a conference of Lincoln, Grant, and Sherman was held on board of a steamer lying in the James River, near Grant's headquarters, at which the final and decisive measures of the campaign were discussed. Sheridan, who had been manoeuvring far to Grant's left, by dint of ten days' rapid marching and almost incessant fighting, had cut off the last avenue of Lee's escape southward, and had made his surrender merely a matter of a few days, at the furthest. Closely followed by Grant, Sheridan

had now drawn a line completely around Lee's army, cutting it off from food and supplies. Petersburg fell into the hands of the victorious Union troops, and on Monday morning, April 3d, the federal troops hoisted the flag of the Union over the building in Richmond that had been occupied by the rebel Congress.

Lincoln was at City Point, near Grant's old headquarters, waiting for the final and great result of all these military movements. Accompanied by Tad, he entered the fallen capital of the Confederacy as soon as possible after the news of its downfall reached him. Unattended, save by a boat's crew from a gunboat near at hand, and leading his little boy by the hand, Lincoln entered the late capital of the rebel Confederacy, over which the national ensign now peacefully waved. He walked as one in a dream. Richmond, so long and so painfully the object of Union hopes and desires, was in the hands of the United States, its Congress and bureaus dispersed, and the members of its exploded government fugitives.

Multitudes of colored people, apparently the only persons left in the city, flocked around the Liberator. They rent the air with their frenzied shouts. They danced, they sang, they prayed for blessings on the head of their deliverer; they wept, kneeling at his feet. In that supreme moment Lincoln was speechless. He wore no look of triumph over a fallen foe, evidences of whose poverty and great trial were thick about him. The tears streamed down his cheeks, furrowed with many cares, and, simply bowing his thanks, or raising his hat to the jubilant and almost hysterical crowds of freed persons, he passed on to the interior of the city. The statesman reared by God's wonderful providence and disciplined in the rough school of adversity, with

the memories of his hard struggle in life still upon him, was in the last stronghold of the broken slave power.

Meanwhile, Grant and Sheridan were drawing their lines more closely about the rebel army under Lee, who, like a hunted fox, vainly turned this way and that to escape the net in which he was enveloped. Grant tarried at Petersburg long enough to meet the President, who pressed on to see him for a moment. The two men met. Lincoln seized Grant by the hands, and poured forth his thanks and congratulations with a glowing radiance on his countenance. The North was delirious with joy. First came the news of the capture of Petersburg, announced in a despatch from President Lincoln to the War Department, and received in Washington about ten o'clock in the morning of the 3d of April. Three quarters of an hour later a despatch from General Weitzel told the glad tidings of the fall of Richmond. Although Lee had not been overtaken, these despatches were sufficient to set the people wild. The end of the Rebellion was at Davis a fugitive, men recognized Lee as the real head of the Rebellion, but did not wait to hear of his surrender. The national capital was in a tumult of excitement and triumph. Thence the wave spread all over the country; the news penetrated remote villages and hamlets in an incredibly short space of time. Flags were spread to the breeze. Guns were fired, and bands, processions, and every outward form of jubilation were used to express the joy of the people. The prevailing feeling was not one of victory over a fallen foe, but of relief that the war was over. No more fighting; no more dying on fields of battle; no more enlistments and drafts; no more anxious measures for the maintenance of the Union. The war was

over.

This was the burden of the song that flowed from the hearts of millions of men and women, relieved at last from an intolerable trial of patience.

In Washington, the rejoicings took the form of a national celebration; the public departments were closed as for a holiday. Flags flew from all the Government buildings, and the War Department ordered a salute of eight hundred guns, five hundred for Richmond and three hundred for Petersburg. Bands paraded the streets, and the members of the Cabinet, in the absence of the President, were called out to address the excited crowds. Congress had adjourned, but the city was full of congressmen; and multitudes of men, bent on seeing the end of the Rebellion as it was celebrated in the capital of the nation, had gone thither. The cheering and the congratulations lasted far into the night. The city was given up to a mighty impromptu festivity. On the following day, these demonstrations were renewed, and on the night of the 4th of April the city was illuminated. Public and private buildings were a blaze of light, and bonfires, fireworks, and every possible contrivance for the making of light and noise were resorted to by the happy people.

Late in the night of April 8th, Palm Sunday, the news of the surrender of Lee reached Washington and was communicated to Lincoln, who had returned and was waiting for it. Once more the capital went wild with joy. The city took a general holiday. Once more the air resounded with the boom of cannon and the blare of martial music. Government clerks assembled in the great rotunda of the Treasury building and sang, "Praise God from whom all blessings flow." On the evening of the 11th of April, Washington was illuminated by the Government, and again every