The Secretary immediately telegraphed back—

“Do not peril your life in that way!”

The next morning he returned the following:—

“I received your dispatch yesterday; went to Richmond and returned this morning.”

This was not reckless daring on his part, but his philosophical way of viewing the danger, as we shall learn more particularly in the next chapter.

On Monday President Lincoln entered the fallen city without parade. Usually, conquerors have taken possession of captured cities and fallen thrones with the proudest display of exultation, bearing along with them the trophies of war. But, true to himself, Mr. Lincoln found it more congenial to his heart to enter the subdued rebel capital without even fife or drum. Unheralded by brilliant cavalcade, he threaded his way as a common man through the streets to the headquarters of Jefferson Davis, who had become a voluntary fugitive. And though he took possession of the traitor-city without ostentation or military parade, history records his entrance as a triumphal march, and patriot fathers tell the story of it to their children in honour of Lincoln’s greatness.

President Lincoln remained in Richmond until Tuesday morning, occupying the house so unceremoniously vacated by the arch-traitor of the Rebellion. The loyal people trembled for his safety when they heard he was there. Many pronounced his going to Richmond “a foolhardy act.” All deprecated his unnecessary exposure of life, as they regarded it, and were greatly relieved when the telegraph informed them that he was back again in Washington.

Speaker Colfax expostulated with him upon his seeming disregard of danger, to which the President replied,—

“I should have been alarmed myself if any other person had been President and gone there; but I did not feel in any danger whatever.”

Before reaching Washington, on his return, he read aloud twice from his copy of Shakespeare the words which Macbeth uttered about the murdered Duncan, calling the special attention of his friends to them,—

The friends who listened to his remarks upon this striking passage could but recall the singular circumstances after his assassination.

The fall of Richmond was celebrated throughout the North and West by bonfires, illuminations, speeches, music, ringing of bells, and general rejoicing. Everywhere Mr. Lincoln was remembered and eulogized for his wisdom, patriotism, and achievements.

Just one week from the time the news of the fall of Richmond was flashed over the land, the tidings of

Lee’s surrender at Appomattox Court-house followed, magnifying the general joy tenfold, if possible. The war was ended, and Constitutional Liberty maintained. Over the western portico of the Capitol at Washington was inscribed, with a beautiful banner waving over it,—

“This is the Lord’s doing; it is marvellous in our eyes.”

“The Union saved by faith in the Constitution, faith in the People, and trust in God.”