grant in the east. lincoln chosen for second term.

grant for his great work in the west was made lieu-ten-ant gen-er-al, and put in charge of all the for-ces of the un-ion. he came east, and took the ar-my of the po-to-mac in-to his strong safe hands, and pres-i-dent lin-coln saw that he would fight to the end.

then the ar-my of the po-to-mac un-der grant and meade made a move to-ward rich-mond. it met lee in dense woods known as “the wil-der-ness,” and there, and in and a-bout spott-syl-va-ni-a court house, fought for 16 days. the un-ion ar-my lost 37,000 men. lee, who led the foe, lost vast hordes, still he would not give up. grant saw that he must get near-er to rich-mond and this he did in a qui-et way by send-ing off a part of his ar-my from his right and march-ing it a-round to the rear of his oth-er troops. then he pushed it as far a-head as he could on his left. though “out-flanked,” lee would fall back in time to be a-gain twixt grant’s troops and rich-mond. with troops so well matched it was hard for ei-ther to win.

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general grant.

general lee.

on june 3, 1864, grant and his men were so near rich-mond, at a place called cold har-bor, that the un-ion for-ces made a strike at the works of the foe a-long the whole line. in one hours’ time near 6,000 un-ion men met death.

when ten days had gone by a quick march to the left was made by grant’s ar-my and they all got a-cross the james riv-er. they tried to take pe-ters-burg so that they could cut off one source of the stores sent to the foe, but they found the works too strong to be seized by storm. then the un-ion troops built trench-es close up to the foe’s works and staid there nine months.

on the 21st of june, pres-i-dent lin-coln rode out to the front. on his way back he had to pass some black troops who had fought well in the first charge on

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pe-ters-burg. these men had been slaves, and lin-coln was the good friend who had set them free. they crowd-ed round him with tears in their eyes, and gave cheers of joy. they laughed and cried, and pressed up to him to shake or kiss his hand, to touch his clothes, or the horse on which he rode. the scene moved mr. lin-coln to tears, and he could not trust him-self to speak.

lincoln and the black troops.

there had been, through all the years of the war, fights on a small scale in the val-ley of vir-gin-ia, and each side had a chance to win from time to time.

at last gen-er-al sher-i-dan was put in charge of the un-ion troops on that line, but held off from a great fight till sept. 19, ’64, when he won at win-ches-ter and three

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days lat-er at fish-er’s hill a-gainst the foe un-der ear-ly. sher-i-dan took all the stock from the val-ley and burned barns full of grain, so the foe would not find food there, but still ear-ly sent a part of his men af-ter the un-ion troops, mov-ing so that his for-ces would not make a noise in the night on a lone-path till they got to a place where the un-ion troops were sound a-sleep. the rest of his ar-my, ear-ly kept by him to strike at sher-i-dan’s force in front. the bat-tle of ce-dar creek came then twixt these two ar-mies. the foe won. sher-i-dan was not there but heard the guns and rode

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up the val-ley full speed, and with a shout to his men who had fled, “come, boys, we’re go-ing back!” turned the tide and put down the ear-ly troops. there were but few more fights, just there, for both sides had to go to pe-ters-burg for the last scenes.

“come, boys, we’re going back!”

while the ar-my did its best in war work, the na-vy, too, or men of the sea, did brave deeds.

ad-mir-al far-ra-gut, who had done so much good work with his fleet from the north in the spring of 1862, brought fame once more to him-self in his at-tack on mo-bile in au-gust, 1864. so that he might see and di-rect his fleet of i-ron-clads and ships of wood in the best

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way, far-ra-gut went up in-to the main-top of the “hart-ford,” and at last took the forts in mo-bile bay. he closed the port, though the town was kept in the hands of the foe till the war came to an end.

in de-cem-ber, 1864, when con-gress met, the doom of the foe was in sight. grant had pe-ters-burg in his grip, and said he would “see the end of the job.”

with lee’s ar-my at rich-mond, the on-ly oth-er large force of the foe was led by john-ston in the south. sher-man with a lar-ger force made a move a-gainst it, and af-ter much fight-ing john-ston took his stand at at-lan-ta. he had fought with much skill, but the south failed to see this, and put gen. hood in his place. hood was rash, and sher-man soon forced him to leave at-lan-ta. from at-lan-ta, sher-man set out on his great “march through geor-gi-a,” burn-ing at-lan-ta when he left, so that it might not a-gain be a ref-uge for the foe.

sherman’s forces leaving atlanta.

in the midst of all the strife, lin-coln’s first term as chief came to an end. it was asked by some, “what new man shall we put in lin-coln’s place?” names came up, but it was hard to find a new man who “knew the ropes.” lin-coln, though worn with toil, had a

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great wish to keep his post, for he felt that he had not then done his full work. in his quaint way he said to his friends:

“it is-n’t safe to swap hor-ses when you are cross-ing a stream.”

in no-vem-ber, 1864, lin-coln was once more the

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choice of the peo-ple. they told him that it was their wish that he should lead them, be their chief for one more term, and take the chair on the fourth of march, 1865.

when that day came, a-bra-ham lin-coln stood on the por-ti-co of the cap-i-tol and took the oath of off-ice. the cloud of war which hung o’er the first in-au-gu-ra-tion, was now a-bout to leave. as the gloom went by, bright-er days came, and the sun of a new e-ra shone out up-on the land.

the words which the pres-i-dent said were few, but they will nev-er die. while lin-coln’s “get-tys-burg speech” will ev-er be praised, far more must these last words dwell in the hearts of men, for they show the de-vo-tion and ten-der love of that great soul, poured out to bless his chil-dren ere he lay down to die.

the woes of lee and his troops grew too hard for them to bear. arms and food which had come to them

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from the south and oth-er pla-ces were now cut off. no more troops could join them and those who were on the ground were weak for lack of food. the great drama was soon to close.

on the skirmish line.

sher-man’s ar-my was in north car-o-li-na. there were, too, “boys in blue” in charles-ton and wil-ming-ton, n. c. “sher-i-dan’s cav-al-ry” was en route from the shen-an-do-ah to pe-ters-burg. the last blow must come in a few weeks.

lee knew that he and his men of the south must hold five forks at all risks. they put up strong breast works and did what they could to hold the land a-bout pe-ters-burg.

wounded soldiers leaving the battle.

grant’s force was then twice as large as lee’s. do the best he might lee found him-self out-num-bered at each tack and turn. the un-ion men beat the foe and took hordes of them pris-on-ers at the great fight of five forks on a-pril 1, 1865. while

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this fight went on, some of the foe’s works at pe-ters-burg were stormed and one by one they fell in-to the hands of grant’s men. but still lee, on a-pril 2, when night came on, held the line south of the ap-po-mat-tox. his men were worn out, for their work had been hard and their food scarce.

charge at five forks.

as no news had come to grant from rich-mond, he rode out to a line where he thought he could get news and on his way a note was put in his hands from gen. weit-zel. it said, “rich-mond is ours. the foe left in great haste and have set fire to the town.”

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southern troops retreating from richmond.

then all a-long the line of the un-ion troops came up a great cry; “rich-mond is ours! rich-mond is ours!”

but, if lee had left, the “boys in blue” must make haste to catch him. he fled to the west with his starved and worn-out troops, but grant gave close chase and sher-i-dan “hung on his flanks.” lee turned this way

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and that, and there were some more fights, but at length he had to give in. at a time when sher-i-dan had his men drawn up, and the word “charge” was al-most on his lips, a white flag was seen. the man who brought it had come from lee who was at ap-po-mat-tox court house. lee had sent to ask that there might not be a fight till he knew what grant’s terms of peace were.

union cavalry in pursuit of lee’s army.

at last both great chiefs met to-geth-er in the small town of ap-po-mat-tox at a plain farm house.

they shook hands and lee asked grant to write out his terms and said he would sign them. grant drew up the terms and lee signed them as he had said he

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would. then the two great lead-ers shook hands a-gain and both rode off. this was on the 9th of a-pril, 1865.

in the south, john-ston, who led the foe there, could make no stand a-lone, so, at the end of 17 days, he gave up to gen. sher-man. small sets of the foe, placed here and there, al-so gave up, and the four years of blood came to an end.

the ar-mies of the un-ion had put down the “great re-bel-lion” and peace had come. so vast a war had ne’er been known in mod-ern times, and men more brave than those who fought on both sides could not be found in an-y land.

chapter xiv.

return of peace; lincoln shot; his burial at springfield.

“pres-i-dent lin-coln in rich-mond,” af-ter the “con-fed-er-a-cy” fell to pie-ces, made a scene such as was ne’er be-fore known in all his-to-ry. there was none of the pomp and show such as a great chief in oth-er lands

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would have had who put down a brave foe and gained a great cause.

lin-coln was at the “head-quar-ters” of gen. grant at cit-y point on a small steam-er, “the riv-er queen,” when he heard of the fall of rich-mond, and that a great fire had laid low much of that place. he went up the riv-er and land-ed at a wharf near lib-by pris-on. there he found a black man to act as guide and show him the way through the cit-y. soon a great crowd drew near the pres-i-dent. the un-ion sol-diers greet-ed him, so did those who had once been bought and sold like beasts. cries of thanks rent the air from the race he had made free. they felt god had sent him.

union troops marching into richmond.

the crowd was so dense that ad-mir-al por-ter had to call sail-ors from his boat to march in front and be-hind the pres-i-dent, so that a track might be cleared for

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him through the town. lin-coln did not seem to think of fear, and no one raised a hand a-gainst him or spoke an un-kind word.

the pres-i-dent went to the house then used by gen. weit-zel, who was in charge of the un-ion troops there—the same house in which jef-fer-son dav-is had lived for months, and which he had just left in great haste.

lib-by pris-on was in that town, and there hordes of some of the brav-est and best of the men of the north had starved and died. here, too, was a pris-on where black slaves were kept. it was the “rich-mond mart” with its cells and grates of i-ron. the end had come for the pris-on, the whip, the shac-kles, the auc-tion-block and dri-ver.

in the ear-ly morn of the day on which the foe’s troops had marched out of rich-mond, the or-der was giv-en to burn the bridge o-ver which they passed. at the same time, flames burst from win-dows and roofs of tall build-ings, and in a few hours 800 of them were on fire.

the poor folks of the town had their arms full of house-hold goods, and stacks of beds, ta-bles, and chairs were piled up in o-pen pla-ces. groups of peo-ple stood

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still in their fright, for their hou-ses were in ash-es and they had no food or clothes.

a great hush, at last, fell on all, as the pres-i-dent’s coach was driv-en to a stand in the “square.” then lin-coln rose, faced the great throng, and spread out his hands as a min-is-ter would when giv-ing a bless-ing. not a sound was heard for more than a min-ute. then the hor-ses went on and lin-coln was gone.

one more vis-it was made by the pres-i-dent to rich-mond. he then had his wife and his son “tad” with him. at that time he talked with judge camp-bell a-bout the terms he would make with the foe. the judge had his own i-de-a of what he would like. mr.

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lin-coln was not of the same mind, but said, “i will give you in black and white my on-ly terms.”

president lincoln and his son “tad.”

these were plain and sim-ple. lin-coln was kind but he was firm.

af-ter that the lin-colns went to for-tress mon-roe. there, though the pres-i-dent was wea-ry and full of care, he spent hours with the sick and those in pain. he talked of the grand news, of the un-ion saved by the brave “boys in blue,” and of their homes and dear ones they would soon see.

but when the un-ion troops were on their way north, a few weeks lat-er, may 23, 1865, and 65,000 of

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them in full strength and health marched in di-vis-ions, in close lines, round the cap-i-tol at wash-ing-ton, a-bra-ham lin-coln, the “well be-loved,” was not there to see them. his work was done. he had gone to his re-ward.

the march of union troops in washington.

on good fri-day, a-pril 14, 1865, it was four years from the “sur-ren-der of fort sum-ter.” ma-jor an-der-son had, then, when the foe’s guns struck the fort, hauled down the stars and stripes, and with great care, put the dear flag a-way to keep for a glad day which should come, and a large throng of folks from the north had come down to port roy-al and charles-ton to raise, with words of praise and pray-er, o’er the ru-ins of sum-ter, that same flag of the free in all its beau-ty.

words were read from the bi-ble, and all there who could sing, joined in a hymn. then the star span-gled ban-ner was flung to the breeze by gen. rob-ert an-der-son. the pa-tri-ot, hen-ry ward bee-cher, gave at that time one of his great o-ra-tions. all hearts were thrilled.

the day was a glad one at the white house. the

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pres-i-dent’s son, capt. rob-ert lin-coln, of grant’s staff, came home that morn, and told the tale of the last scene at ap-po-mat-tox.

the fam-i-ly took break-fast and then the pres-i-dent spent an hour with mr. col-fax, the speak-er of the house. grant came in and all were glad to see him. at 11 a. m. the cab-i-net met.

there were man-y themes to speak of at that time, such as how to bring back the states which had left the un-ion and what to do with those who led the re-volt.

in these first mo-ments which came af-ter the long four years of dark-ness, lin-coln thought that the way to win the heart of the south was to be kind, and trust to their hon-or to stand by what the test of war had done. of course they had been in the wrong and had lost their all, but, as broth-ers, the pres-i-dent felt that it was as much to the in-ter-est of the north as it was to that of the south to take all means to heal wounds and lead and help the weak till strength came to them a-gain.

it was but a few nights be-fore, on a-pril 11, that the pres-i-dent said words of this sort to the crowds which stormed the white house. in all the land, where true hearts beat for the un-ion, there was joy.

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bells rang, guns roared, and thanks went up to god for the great work he had done.

lin-coln stood at the cen-tral win-dow of the white house and made his last pub-lic speech. it be-gan with these words:

“we meet this e-ven-ing, not in sor-row, but in glad-ness of heart.”

then he went on to tell the peo-ple what he hoped to do for those who had lost. he said that his cab-i-net was a-bout to meet, and the mem-bers of it would, no doubt, join with him in plans to help the south and bring a-bout a spir-it of true peace in the land.

there were some folks in the south at that time, on-ly a small knot of them no doubt, who thought pres-i-dent lin-coln was their arch foe. they bound them-selves to-geth-er to do him and some of his best men all the harm they could.

it was on the night of a-pril 14, 1865, af-ter the meet-ing of the cab-i-net in the morn-ing, that the pres-i-dent, with his wife and two young friends, went to see a play. mr. lin-coln felt wea-ry and would have liked to stay at home. he had been out to drive that af-ter-noon with his wife, and to the throngs of folks

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who saw and greet-ed him then he had bowed, smiled, and, here and there, said a kind word.

abraham lincoln as he looked in 1865.

but it was not for him to rest at home that night. he had giv-en his word that he would go to ford’s the-a-tre. gen. and mrs. grant hoped to join the lin-colns in their box, but at the last mo-ment they had to leave town.

the thought of see-ing two men so great as lin-coln and grant to-geth-er on that night drew a vast throng to ford’s. cheer af-ter cheer went up as all rose when the pres-i-dent came in. the band played “hail to the chief,” and all hearts were glad. the pres-i-dent bowed and took his seat, smil-ing as the first pleas-ing act was played.

then, just as the cur-tain rose on the sec-ond scene of the last act, the sound of a pis-tol’s re-port fell on the air. at first it was thought to have been part of the play; then a man was seen to leap from the pres-i-dent’s box and fall down up-on the stage, with a knife in his hand, call-ing out the lat-in words “sic sem-per ty-ran-nis,” which mean “thus al-ways to ty-rants.”

some one shout-ed “he has shot the pres-i-dent—!” friends flew to the box and three ar-my sur-geons

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made their way through the crowd and helped take the great and good man, who now was near his end, out to a small house a-cross the street.

assassination of president lincoln.

when dawn came and lamps grew dim, a-bra-ham lin-coln’s pulse be-gan to fail. soon a calm look of peace came up-on his worn face and he was gone.

the bad man who shot lin-coln was one of that

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knot of folks who had sworn to do him, and some of his cab-i-net, harm. they said that by so do-ing they would “a-venge the south.” oth-er good men be-sides the pres-i-dent were struck that night, but the pres-i-dent, a-lone, met his death wound.

those who had made the plot to do that foul deed were soon caught and put to death.

as the news went forth of the tra-gic death of a-bra-ham lin-coln the land stood a-ghast with awe. bells tolled, work stopped, and grief filled all hearts.

as the fun-er-al pro-ces-sion moved from the white house to the church, it was seen that the es-cort was a reg-i-ment of black men, whose free-dom from sla-ver-y had come from him whose voice and hand were now stilled by death.

the state of il-li-nois said the last rest-ing place of a-bra-ham lin-coln must be on that soil. then a group of men in high pla-ces, ad-mir-als of the na-vy, gen-er-als of the ar-my, with states-men and oth-ers made a guard of hon-or, and went on that long jour-ney to the tomb with the pre-cious dust, stop-ping in man-y cit-ies that peo-ple might look once more on the dead form of the man who led all oth-er men.

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on may 14, 1865, the great cap-tain, his life work done, was laid to rest in oak ridge cem-e-te-ry, spring-field, il-li-nois.

the ser-vice was plain. there was a hymn, a pray-er, a few words, then the read-ing of lin-coln’s sec-ond in-au-gu-ral ad-dress.

notes of sym-pa-thy came to the u-ni-ted states from rul-ers of oth-er lands. it seemed as if all the world laid wreaths up-on the bier of a-bra-ham lin-coln.

“rest to the un-crowned king who toil-ing brought

his bleed-ing coun-try through a dread-ful reign:

who, liv-ing, earned the world’s re-ver-ing thought,

and dy-ing, leaves his name with-out a stain.”