likely to occur. The members of
the cabinet were deeply impressed; but General Grant, who had come to
Washington that morning and was present, remarked with matter-of-fact
exactness that Murfreesboro was no victory and had no important results.
Not the wildest imagination of skeptic or mystic could have pictured the
events under which the day was to close.

It was Good Friday, a day observed by a portion of the people with
fasting and prayer, but even among the most devout the great news of the
week just ended changed this time of traditional mourning into a season
of general thanksgiving. For Mr. Lincoln it was a day of unusual and
quiet happiness. His son Robert had returned from the field with
General Grant, and the President spent an hour with the young captain in
delighted conversation over the campaign. He denied himself generally to
visitors, admitting only a few friends. In the afternoon he went for
a long drive with Mrs. Lincoln. His mood, as it had been all day, was
singularly happy and tender. He talked much of the past and future.
After four years of trouble and tumult he looked forward to four years
of quiet and normal work; after that he expected to go back again to
Illinois and practice law. He was never more simple or more gentle
than on this day of triumph. His heart overflowed with sentiments of
gratitude to Heaven, which took the shape, usual to generous natures, of
love and kindness to all men.

From the very beginning there had been threats to kill him. He was
constantly receiving letters of warning from zealous or nervous friends.
The War Department inquired into these when there seemed to be ground
for doing so, but always without result. Warnings that appeared most
definite proved on examination too vague and confused for further
attention. The President knew that he was in some danger. Madmen
frequently made their way to the very door of the Executive Office;
sometimes into Mr. Lincoln's presence; but he himself had so sane a
mind, and a heart so kindly even to his enemies, that it was hard for
him to believe in political hatred deadly enough to lead to murder. He
summed up the matter by saying that since he must receive both friends
and strangers every day, his life was of course within the reach of any
one, sane or mad, who was ready to murder and be hanged for it, and that
he could not possibly guard against all danger unless he shut himself
up in an iron box, where he could scarcely perform