ked a suspension of hostilities. These
commanders doubted a ruse, and reluctantly consented to hold their
troops back for two hours. That was just enough; pending the recess
Grant was reached by the bearer of the dispatch, and at once rode in
search of Lee.

The two met at the house of a villager and easily came to terms, for
Grant's offer transcended in liberality anything which Lee could fairly
have expected. General Grant hastily wrote it out in the form of a
letter to Lee: The Confederates, officers and men, were to be paroled,
"not to take up arms against the government of the United States until
properly exchanged;" arms, artillery, and public property were to be
turned over to the Federals except the side-arms of the officers, their
private horses, and baggage. "This done, each officer and man will be
allowed to return to their homes, not to be disturbed by United States
authority so long as they observe their parole and the laws in force
where they may reside." This closing sentence practically granted
amnesty to all persons then surrendering, not excluding even the rebel
general-in-chief. It was afterward severely criticised as trenching upon
the domain of the President, and perhaps, also, on that of Congress. For
it was practically an exercise of the pardoning power; and it was, or
might be, an element in reconstruction. Not improbably the full force of
the language was not appreciated when it was written; but whether this
was so or not, and whether authority had been unduly assumed or not, an
engagement of General Grant was sure to be respected, especially when it
was entirely in harmony with the spirit of the President's policy,
though it happened to be contrary to the letter of his order.

General Lee had no sooner surrendered than he asked for food for his
starving troops; and stated, by way of estimate, that about twenty-five
thousand rations would be needed. The paroles, as signed, showed a total
of 28,231. To so trifling a force had his once fine army been reduced by
the steady drain of battles and desertions.[82] The veterans had long
since understood that their lives were a price which could buy nothing,
and which therefore might as well be saved.

The fall of Richmond and the surrender of Lee were practically the end
of the war. Remnants of secession indeed remained, of which Mr. Lincoln
did not live to see the disposition. Johnston's army was still in the
field; but on learning that there really w