April 14 was a day of deep and tranquil happiness throughout the United States.  It was Good Friday, observed by a portion of the people as an occasion of fasting and religious meditation; though even among the most devout the great tidings of the preceding week exerted their joyous influence, and changed this period of traditional mourning into an occasion of general thanksgiving.  But though the Misereres turned of themselves to Te Deums, the date was not to lose its awful significance in the calendar:  at night it was claimed once more by a world-wide sorrow.

The thanksgiving of the nation found its principal expression at Charleston Harbor, where the flag of the Union received that day a conspicuous reparation on the spot where it had first been outraged.  At noon General Robert Anderson raised over Fort Sumter the identical flag lowered and saluted by him four years before; the surrender of Lee giving a more transcendent importance to this ceremony, made stately with orations, music, and military display.

In Washington it was a day of deep peace and thankfulness.  Grant had arrived that morning, and, going to the Executive Mansion, had met the cabinet, Friday being their regular day for assembling.  He expressed some anxiety as to the news from Sherman which he was expecting hourly.  The President answered him in that singular vein of poetic mysticism which, though constantly held in check by his strong common sense, formed such a remarkable element in his character.  He assured Grant that the news would come soon and come favorably, for he had last night had his usual dream which preceded great events.  He seemed to be, he said, in a singular and indescribable vessel, but always the same, moving with great rapidity toward a dark and indefinite shore; he had had this dream before Antietam, Murfreesboro, Gettysburg, and Vicksburg.  The cabinet were greatly impressed by this story; but Grant, most matter-of-fact of created beings, made the characteristic response that “Murfreesboro was no victory, and had no important results.”  The President did not argue this point with him, but repeated that Sherman would beat or had beaten Johnston; that his dream must relate to that, since he knew of no other important event likely at present to occur.

Questions of trade between the States, and of various phases of reconstruction, occupied the cabinet on this last day of Lincoln’s firm and tolerant rule.  The President spoke at some length, disclosing his hope that much could be done to reanimate the States and get their governments in successful operation before Congress came together.  He was anxious to close the period of strife without over-much discussion.  Particularly did he desire to avoid the shedding of blood, or any vindictiveness of punishment.  “No one need expect that he would take any part in hanging or killing these men, even the worst of them.”  “Enough lives have been sacrificed,” he exclaimed; “we must extinguish our resentments