ers for General Grant and all under his command; and then "three more
cheers for our gallant navy," at the close of which he bowed and retired
amid the inspiring strains of "Hail Columbia" discoursed with vigor by
the patriotic musicians.

As additional despatches were received from the army, the joyful
excitement in Washington increased. Tuesday evening, April 11, the
President's mansion, the Executive Departments, and many of the business
places and private residences, were illuminated, bonfires were kindled,
and fireworks sent off, in celebration of the great event which stirred
the hearts of the people. A vast mass of citizens crowded about the
White House, as Lincoln appeared at the historic East window and made
his last speech to the American public. It was a somewhat lengthy
address, and had been prepared and written out for the occasion. "We
meet this evening, not in sorrow but in gladness of heart," began the
President. "No part of the honor or praise is mine. To General Grant,
his skilful officers and brave men, all belongs." Mr. Brooks, who was in
the White House during the delivery of this address, gives the following
glimpses behind the scenes: "As Lincoln spoke, the multitude was as
silent as if the court-yard had been deserted. Then, as his speech was
written on loose sheets, and the candles placed for him were too low, he
took a light in his hand and went on with his reading. Soon coming to
the end of a page, he found some difficulty in handling the manuscript
and holding the candlestick. A friend who stood behind the drapery of
the window reached out and took the candle, and held it until the end of
the speech, and the President let the loose pages fall on the floor, one
by one, as fast as he was through with them. Presently Tad, having
refreshed himself at the dinner-table, came back in search of amusement.
He gathered up the scattered sheets of the President's speech, and then
amused himself by chasing the leaves as they fluttered from the
speaker's hand. Growing impatient at his father's delay to drop another
page, Tad whispered, 'Come, give me another!' The President made a queer
motion with his foot toward the boy, but otherwise showed no sign that
he had other thoughts than those which he was dropping to the listeners
beneath. Without was a vast sea of upturned faces, each eye fixed on the
form of the President. Around the tall white pillars of the portico
flowed an undulating surface of human bein