o the right, to the front, to the left, and
occasionally throw a hasty glance backward,--but said nothing. Finally
we passed through our works, near the historic "cotton-gin," and the
general drew a deep breath, leaned back against his seat, and said:
"Well, by God, the next time I fight at Franklin, I want to let the
Columbia pike severely alone!" No one made any response, and the
remainder of the journey was finished in silence. I duly delivered Gen.
Quarles and his fellow-prisoners to Maj. Nulton, and never saw any of
them again.

Early in April, decisive military operations took place in Virginia. On
the 3rd of that month our forces marched into Richmond, and on the 9th
the army of Gen. Lee surrendered to Gen. Grant. At Franklin we were on
a telegraph line, and only about twenty miles from department
headquarters, so the intelligence of those events was not long in
reaching us. I am just unable to tell how profoundly gratified we were
to hear of the capture of Richmond, and of Lee's army. We were
satisfied that those victories meant the speedy and triumphant end of
the war. It had been a long, desperate, and bloody struggle, and
frequently the final result looked doubtful and gloomy. But
now,--"there were signs in the sky that the darkness was gone; there
were tokens in endless array"; and the feeling among the common
soldiers was one of heart-felt relief and satisfaction. But suddenly
our joy was turned into the most distressing grief and mourning. Only a
few days after we heard of Lee's surrender came the awful tidings of
the foul murder of Mr. Lincoln. I well remember the manner of the men
when the intelligence of the dastardly crime was flashed to us at
Franklin. They seemed dazed and stunned, and were reluctant to believe
it, until the fact was confirmed beyond question. They sat around in
camp under the trees, talking low, and saying but little, as if the
matter were one that made mere words utterly useless. But they were in
a desperate frame of mind, and had there been the least appearance of
exultation over the murder of Mr. Lincoln by any of the people of
Franklin, the place would have been laid in ashes instanter. But the
citizens seemed to understand the situation. They went into their
houses, and closed their doors, and the town looked as if deserted. To
one who had been among the soldiers for some years, it was easy to
comprehend and understand their feelings on this occasion. For the last
two years of