Solomon's in his day. As the secret chapters of the sad war days are unfolded, they discover a wisdom in his direction of the affairs with which he had to do, that indicates a more than human foresight. Confessedly he was the man for the hour and occasion-God's instrument for the annihilation of the cause of the war, African Slavery. Grace sufficient he had, of native or divine power, to break the chains of bondage and let the slaves go free. In his death the South, which had made his election the occasion for secession and war, lost its best friend and the grief manifested there was Lincoln's proudest triumph. His memory with his last inaugural message to the Nation, "With malice towards none and charity for all," will go down the ages with that of Washington and William The Silent, only to grow brighter with advancing time. Appropriate ceremonies were held in every locality. The body of the martyred President was conveyed amid general mourning to his home at Springfield, Ill., from whence he had departed four years before with such a sad heart. We may well recall his prophetic words on that occasion. To his neighbors, who had assembled at the depot to bid him good-bye, from the platform of his car he spoke as follows: My Friends: No one not in my position can appreciate the sadness I feel at this parting. To this people I owe all that I am. Here I have lived over a quarter of a century. Here my children were born and here one of them lies buried. I know not how soon I shall see you again. A duty devolves upon me which is perhaps greater than that which has devolved upon any other man since the days of Washington. He never would have succeeded except for the aid of Divine Providence, upon which he at all times relied. I feel that I cannot succeed without the same Divine aid which sustained him, and in the same Almighty Being I place my reliance for support; and I hope you, my friends, will all pray that I may receive that Divine assistance, without which I cannot succeed, but with which success is certain. Again, I bid you all an affectionate farewell. On May 4th, the mortal remains of the nation's martyred chief were borne to the grave amid the profound sorrow of his friends to whom he had addressed the above words which, like his Gettysburg speech, seemed to have been the gift of that Divine guidance on which he relied. The solemn duty of performing the martial rites at his funeral devolved upon the Twenty-fourth Michigan Infantry which formed his funeral escort. CLOSE OF THE WAR. The surrender of Lee's army was but the prelude for the remaining armies of the defunct Confederacy to lay down their arms on the best obtainable terms, which however, were very similar to those granted to Lee and his troops. In the course of a few weeks, every insurgent gun and munition of war was in possession of the national government, and the soldiers composing the Confederate armies had peaceably disbanded to their homes. But Jefferson Davis and a few followers escaped from Richmond and were determined to prolong the hopeless struggle. His capture a month later by the Fourth Michigan Cavalry in the ridiculous attire of a female, was a retributive ending of the "Lost cause," and a fitting disgrace to this prisoner-starving traitor. The national flag was again triumphant through all the land and the war was closed. CHAPTER XV. THE ARMIES DISBANDED. LETTER OF GENERAL MORROW. V ERY soon after the surrender of the insurgent forces, both the armies of Grant and Sherman were headed for Washington. General Henry A. Morrow, by order, left the Twenty-fourth Michigan at Springfield the day that Lincoln was assassinated, to assume command of the Iron Brigade. The following letter from him, written soon after to Adjutant Chamberlin is expressive of occurring events in those days: My Dear Adjutant: HEADQUARTERS FIRST BRIGADE, THIRD DIVISION, FIFTH Corps, I have not forgotten my promise to write you, but since I rejoined the Army of the Potomac we have been constantly on the march until within the last few days, and there has been no opportunity for writing. You will be interested, I think, in a slight description of the homeward march of the victorious army and I will attempt to give you some idea of it. You know of course, that I have been assigned to the command of the "Iron Brigade." I was well received by both officers and men, and soon felt as much at home as though I had been in the bosom of the Twenty-fourth. God bless you! When I rejoined the Brigade, it was at Black and White's Station, on the Southside Railroad, about sixty miles from Petersburg. Army headquarters were at Burksville, thirteen miles beyond. You remember that, to the mind of the soldier, Burksville was a famous place. It contains a tavern, a grocery, a blacksmith shop and a half dozen dilapidated buildings besides. The station has been destroyed. Black and White exists only in name. Nothing but the ruins remained to show that any human habitation had ever been there. On the 1st of May, orders were received to take up the homeward march via Petersburg, Richmond, Hanover Court House, Bowling Green and Fredericksburg. The country around Black and White is very beautiful. Though early spring at the North, here the roses were in full bloom, and the fruit such as apples, peaches, etc., were as large as peas. Our march was one of triumph. The Grand Old Army of the Potomac felt, every man of them, that they were heroes, and every step was firm and elastic as became the soldiers of a hundred battles. The Iron Brigade, especially, felt glorious and your humble servant as he marched through Petersburg with banners flying and music playing, felt proud of his country and its deeds. I marched the Brigade It was through the city by platoon front, closed en masse, at a right shoulder shift. conceded that our Brigade made a grand appearance. The sidewalks were lined with people but they were generally Northern men. On the 4th the corps encamped at Manchester, which is a small place on the James River opposite Richmond. The bridges had been destroyed, but a pontoon bridge connected the two places. From our camp the city of Richmond was in full view, especially the Capitol which stands on the highest of the seven hills upon which the city is built. The American flag, our own stars and stripes, floated from the flag-staff from which but a few days before the rebel banner floated triumphantly in the sunset air of heaven. Every eye was strained to catch the first view of Richmond, so long the object of our hopes; of Libby Prison, Castle Thunder, the Capitol, the residence of the late Jefferson Davis and the Spottswood House. The Libby Prison was visited by thousands of our troops. The notorious Major Dick Turner, the infamous Rebel jailor, was confined in the cell in which he so often confined our officers. Libby is a large tobacco warehouse and, unless it was crowded, would by no means be an unpleasant prison. It was crowded, and facilities for keeping clean not being afforded, the condition of its inmates was no doubt wretched enough, as the condition of all prisoners is, beyond question. Turner was the only prisoner now in this once famous prison. As we walked through the rooms, our footsteps resounding through the now empty building, one could not but contrast in mind, the difference between this and former scenes which had been enacted here. A Union soldier stood guard over the former Rebel jailor. Union officers and soldiers with clanking spurs and sabres, now walked in freedom where a few weeks since hundreds of Union officers mourned in spirit for the freedom which it seemed to them would never come. The Castle Thunder is an ordinary building and was used for a prison. The Capitol is not a grand building, but it is full of historical associations. equestrian statue of Washington in the Capitol grounds, is a noble work of art.-A statue of Henry Clay is also a fine one. The Spottswood House is a finer building perhaps than any hotel in Detroit. It was filled with officers of both the Union and Confederate armies, for you must know that Richmond is filled with paroled Rebel officers and soldiers. They wear their uniforms and strut about the hotels as big as you please. You find them in the warm afternoons, sitting under the trees in the Capitol grounds and drinking their juleps at the bars. The 6th of the month at early dawn, the bugles sounded, and the Old Army of the Potomac prepared for the triumphant march through the Rebel Capital. Here and there and every where the troops were marching and countermarching, the cavalry were dashing to and fro, Aides rode furiously between the different Headquarters, and everything betokened a grand gala day for the army. The sun shone splendidly. It was just such a day as one would have selected had he been given a choice. o'clock the march was to begin and at that hour the tread of the soldiers, the soft music floating through the pure air, the gay flags waving in all directions, the bright sunshine flashing on the guns of the long lines of infantry, all inspired the mind with feelings of pride and satisfaction. At 9 The Army of the James was drawn up along the streets through which we were to march and extended not less than three miles. And now the Army of the Potomac enters Richmond and every man treads firmer as he marches through the streets along which thousands of Union captives were marched by the Rebels after Bull Run and other disastrous fields. How changed! Then the citizens of Richmond came out by thousands to look with pride and triumph upon the long files of captives sent by the Rebel chiefs to amuse their countrymen. Now the captives are the conquerors, and with mailed hands and helmeted heads and the tread of great chiefs, they pass through the city, and the great Leader of the Rebel armies, from behind a latticed window, views the endless lines of the Union forces! Shout after shout goes up from the Brigades of the Armies of the James as the war-worn veterans of the army file by them. We pass by all the noted places in order that the troops may see them. Here is Libby, and each soldier bites his lip and grinds his teeth as he marches by the place of murders. On we march, and now we are in front of the Capitol, and the beautiful Equestrian Statue of the Father of his Country stands out like a living reality against the blue sky, the bright sunshine playing upon horse and rider, and seeming to give life to both. There is the Capitol of the State of Virginia. It was built many, many years ago. It is not so old as Westminister Hall or St. Paul, or the Tower of London, but from its rostrum have issued forth in other days, an eloquence which thrilled a nation of freemen, and inspired men with a warmer devotion to liberty. It has a history. Now we are on Franklin street, and opposite the residence of General Lee. It is a plain substantial brick dwelling. We are conquerors, but we are not barbarians. We rejoice in victory, but we do not insult a fallen enemy. We pass in silence so far as speech is concerned, but the sound of martial music and the soft notes of the many bands filled the street with patriotic airs. We leave the city, and are on the way to Hanover Court House. Every foot of the ground between Richmond and Fredericksburg is full of historical associations, remote and recent. Here is Hanover Court House, the scene of several severe battles, and more noted still as being the place where Patrick Henry, the forest-born Demosthenes, first exhibited those wonderful powers of eloquence which electrified the continent and sounded the knell of English rule in America. Before we reach Hanover Court House, we bivouac on the spot where General Stuart of the Rebel army, received his death wound. On all sides are earthworks, rifle pits, trenches, etc. On the fourth day after leaving Richmond, we approach Fredericksburg, and from a height seven miles in the rear, we catch the first sight of the city. First a spire meets the eye, and then the top of a lofty building, and finally the whole city is in full view. All are anxious to pass over the memorable battle-field, and the line of march is up the Bowling Green Road. There on the hill are the Rebel batteries. Did I say batteries? There are the embrasures, but the Rebel and his cannon are gone. Stillness as of the Sabbath reigns through all the fields and over all the heights. I am anxious to revisit the first battle-field of the "Twenty-fourth," and I leave the Brigade and cut across the fields. A negro is ploughing in the field where Hattie was killed, but the grave of our first offering to the grim God of War is untouched. Humbly, reverently, I dismounted and kneeled by the graves of Hattie and Reed and read their half effaced names from the mouldering head-boards. Captain Whiting renews the names. We have fought the good fight. We have won the victory. We are on our homeward march. These, our first dead, cannot go with us. They sleep on the banks of the Rappahannock and we shall see them no more till the Judgment Day. I saw also the graves of Sergeant Brindle and Corporal Tait who were killed on the 30th day of April, 1863. I said to the ploughman, “My good man, in these graves sleep brave soldiers who fought for the best and holiest of causes, and gave up their lives that their country might live. Respect their graves or in the silent watches of the night, their sheetless corpses shall harrow thy soul with fear." He promised |