o terminate this brief sketch of General Lee, personally, in the
winter of 1864. He looked much older than at the beginning of the war,
but by no means less hardy or robust. On the contrary, the arduous
campaigns through which he had passed seemed to have hardened
him--developing to the highest degree the native strength of his
physical organization. His cheeks were ruddy, and his eye had that
clear light which indicates the presence of the calm, self-poised
will. But his hair had grown gray, like his beard and mustache, which
were worn short and well-trimmed. His dress, as always, was a plain
and serviceable gray uniform, with no indications of rank save the
stars on the collar. Cavalry-boots reached nearly to his knees, and he
seldom wore any weapon. A broad-brimmed gray-felt hat rested low upon
the forehead; and the movements of this soldierly figure were as firm,
measured, and imposing, as ever. It was impossible to discern in
General Lee any evidences of impaired strength, or any trace of the
wearing hardships through which he had passed. He seemed made of iron,
and would remain in his saddle all day, and then at his desk half the
night, without apparently feeling any fatigue. He was still almost an
anchorite in his personal habits, and lived so poorly that it is said
he was compelled to borrow a small piece of meat when unexpected
visitors dined with him.

Such, in brief outline, was the individual upon whose shoulders,
in the last months of 1864 and the early part of 1865, rested the
Southern Confederacy.

XII.

THE SITUATION AT THE BEGINNING OF 1865.

In approaching the narrative of the last tragic scenes of the
Confederate struggle, the writer of these pages experiences emotions
of sadness which will probably be shared by not a few even of those
readers whose sympathies, from the nature of things, were on the side
of the North. To doubt this would be painful, and would indicate a
contempt for human nature. Not only in the eyes of his friends and
followers, but even in the eyes of his bitterest enemies, Lee must
surely have appeared great and noble. Right or wrong in the struggle,
he believed that he was performing his duty; and the brave army at
his back, which had fought so heroically, were inspired by the same
sentiment, and risked all on the issue.

This great soldier was now about to suffer the cruellest pang which
the spite of Fate can inflict, and his army to be disbanded, to return
in pove