brigade made some fine charges a little in front of the right of our brigade. I never was so bewildered as on this occasion. Many of the enemy were scarcely less so. A small cavalry picket, in our front, captured about a dozen drummer-boys who had lost their way and wandered up to Our brigade was moved once or twice to points much threatened; but we were not engaged. Towards night, the whole line became quiet. Mahone's division fought successfully this day, killing and wounding about a thousand of the enemy, and capturing as many more.

us.

About midnight we resumed the march, moving along obscure country roads, which carried us over rough fields and through deep, wet marshes. Occasionally we halted for a few minutes' rest; but, with these exceptions, we toiled wearily, and almost hopelessly, forward, until long after the dawn of the 8th of April. Our suffering was somewhat alleviated by the bright sun that shone upon us and by the soft airs, at once warming and invigorating, which blew to us along the high ridges we traversed. About eight or nine o'clock, we filed out of the road, and took position in column of regiments, as if for a rest of some duration. But just as some fairly set to cooking their scanty rations, and others stretched themselves for a long, quiet sleep, the hateful, hourly-repeated order to fall in was passed along the troops, and we were again put upon the march.

We proceeded without disturbance along the way towards Lynchburg, with rather better prospects than we had enjoyed for many days. I do not remember to have heard any cannon this day, nor any of the demoralizing rumors so abundant of late, except the story of the capture of Lieut. Gen. Ewell, Maj. Gen. Kershaw, Kershaw's division, and the Reserve troops formerly around Richmond. But this was not an event of the day; and, therefore, could not very greatly affect our chances of successful retreat to Lynchburg. Once there, our safety seemed to be almost perfectly secured. I could not see the reason of the argument; but I was glad to see the improving tone of the brigade.

At night, we bivouacked four or five miles east of Appomattox Court House. We enjoyed a good sleep; and I ate my first meal since the noon of the preceding day.

CHAPTER XIX.

THE SURRENDER OF THE ARMY OF NORTHERN VIRGINIA.

JUST before dawn, on the morning of the 9th of April, we were ordered to get under arms, and were at once moved toward Appomattox Court House. A long train of artillery and wagons impeded our march; but, by dint of resolute pushing and equally resolute manoeuvring to pass around those obstacles which could not be removed, we made pretty good progress towards the front of the army. Having arrived within perhaps two miles of Appomattox Court House, we were carried out of the road, formed in column of regiments, and allowed to rest.

The confusion in this place exceeded any thing I had ever witnessed in the army. Wagons and artillery were crowded in groups on both sides of the road, and straggling cavalry and infantry either thronged about them or wandered loosely over the fields. We lay in a basin surrounded by a circle of hills, and the country was generally cleared on each side, so that the disorder was visible at all points. But, despite this disorganization of the troops, there was little movement, little noise, of any description. A horrible calm brooded over us—a calm which seemed only intensified by the living figures around us, and by the unclouded sun which shone with more than vernal fervor. It was one of those pauses we so frequently hear spoken of, but which few men besides the sailor and the soldier actually experience; for it was either the pause after desperate efforts, which is employed in the collection of energies for an effort more desperate than all, or else it was the pause men make between the fight and the death.

Troops moved slowly over various portions of the open ground-the most of them coming up from the rear, and filing out into the fields to rest. The nature of the campaign of the past week was easily read in the countenances and gait of these troops. Their faces were haggered, their steps slow and unsteady. Bare skeletons of the old or

ganizations remained, and these tottered along at wide intervals. Two hundred and fifty men moved up in rear of our brigade, and lay down. Some one asked what regiment that was? A soldier, among them, replied, with a strange smile, that it was Kershaw's division! One brigade in our corps numbered eight men!

I do not mean to say that there were no sounds to be heard at this place. Beyond Appomattox Court House there was plainly audible the roar of battle. Gordon's corps, pushed forward during the night, had formed a line near the town, and, advancing against the enemy's cavalry, had driven them clear back upon their newly-arrived support of infantry. These last had, in turn, forced their assailants to retire to the town. At the time I speak of, a rambling fire rolled along the fronts of the two armies, with a vagueness which only increased apprehension. We seemed to be gathering together for a great, decisive effort. I believe that most of the army felt that the end was not distant. In spite of our laborious and continuous exertions both to outfight and outmarch the enemy, they had crowded their cavalry in our front and thrust their infantry upon our rear, until they had evidently hedged us into a pit, where we must either achieve the greatest victory of the world, or surrender. The latter thought was rarely entertained. Our principle had always been to gain all or lose all. To surrender seemed to be lose even our glory, to confess our cause unrighteous, and to abandon it. I never dreamed of it myself.

About ten o'clock, we moved forward towards Appomattox. The way was rugged, and beset with stragglers of all arms of the service; so that we made slow progress. When perhaps a mile from the town, we met a Federal battery with its full complement of men and horses. These had been captured by Gordon's corps. Immediately after this, we met Gen. Custar, of the Federal cavalry, riding at speed and accompanied by several Confederate officers. The men observed the stars on his shoulder-straps, and some of them congratulated themselves that there had been another of the enemy's generals captured. We had left Gen. Gregg behind us, a capture of the 7ththis one, with him, would make a fine pair of birds to have

in our net, they thought. But others of us remarked that he bore himself in the manner of a conqueror, and not as a captive. Besides, he carried a white handkerchief in his hand, and waved it. This must be a flag of truce. Who could demand truce, and parley? Or, why should there be truce in such a time as this? Then the sickening thought of surrender first entered my mind.

But we moved forward, left the road, and bore rapidly towards the firing, south of the town. When we had reached the base of the ridge on whose crest the skirmishing was heard, and were expecting to be thrown into line and into battle, Capt. Bolton, the engineer officer of the division, rode rapidly to the head of the brigade, and asked for Gen. McGowan. I told him that the general was a little behind, in conversation with some officers. Then he said to me: "It is all the same. Face the brigade about, and take it back to the road you have just left." The firing ceased in front as we returned to the main road. A wave of murmured questions and conjectures passed along the column, and many of the men called out to me to inquire what could be the cause of this retrogression. Often they left their sentences incomplete, only suggesting the mournful idea that filled every mind. I knew no more than they; but we all felt that we divined more than we cared to know. The banners that were lately lifted so proudly seemed to sink towards the earth, and the forms that steadied themselves for the last battle grew languid. Palpable blight and stupefaction fell upon the Confederate army at this hour, and I do not exaggerate when I say that they groped, as in darkness.

A large number of officers and men were in the road, staring and wondering and speaking in the vague, mournful manner that characterized the brigade. One of the general staff rode up to me. I asked him what this could mean surely not- He bowed his head, murmuring that it was all over. When others came up to us, repeating their inquiries, we replied to them in those same words. All was indeed over-all the glory, all the hope, all the aim of our lives. There are no words which can at all describe such a sensation-indeed, there is no mind so entirely self-possessed as to form in itself a distinct sentiment on such

an occasion. The shock is terrible-appalling, numbing, crushing. It is as if a mighty concord of instruments were instantaneously smitten with silence-as if a star were struck from the firmament of glory and hurled into abysmal depths of darkness.

We passed slowly towards the rear, and were put into bivouac near the road-side. We were very silent, and moved as passively as if we had no volition of our own. The column of regiments established, and the arms stacked, we broke ranks-some wandering slowly through the open field, some falling helplessly upon the ground, some standing and staring about them as in a dream. First there was silence, and then succeeded an incoherent mingling of tongues-some wondering, some questioning, some complaining, some regretting, (almost in tears,) but almost all seeking to console themselves with the thought that they had discharged their duty, and therefore that they bore no share of the national disgrace. One friend of mine moved me more than all the rest. He had been a model soldier -laborious in the camp, indefatigable on the march, valiant on the battle-field; he had devoted all his thoughts and all his possessions to the Confederate cause; and now, having lost all, he came to me, and putting his arms around my horse's neck, looked up in my face with eyes swollen with rising tears: "Is it true?" cried he, in a perfect agony "Is it true that Gen. Lee has surrendered?" I told him, I feared that there was no reason to doubt it. "My God!" exclaimed he, "That I should have lived to see this! Caldwell, I did not think I should live till this day. I hoped I should die before this day!" Poor, brave, honest man! I half forgot my own grief in witnessing his, and I could scarcely refrain from giving to him those tears which I refused to my country.

"O torque, quatorque beati,

Queis ante ora patrum, Trojæ sub moenibus altis,
Contigit opetere!"

The Army of Northern Virginia had been surrendered. The best history of the transaction is contained in the correspondence between Gen. Lee and Gen. Grant, which I therefore venture to transcribe, although it be at the risk