which had preceded nearly every important event of the war.  I inquired the particulars of this remarkable dream.  He said it was in my department—­it related to the water; that he seemed to be in a singular and indescribable vessel, but always the same, and that he was moving with great rapidity toward a dark and indefinite shore; that he had had this singular dream preceding the firing on Sumter, the battles of Bull Run, Antietam, Gettysburg, Stone River, Vicksburg, Wilmington, etc.  General Grant remarked, with some emphasis and asperity, that Stone River was no victory—­that a few such victories would have ruined the country, and he knew of no important results from it.  The President said that perhaps he should not altogether agree with him, but whatever might be the facts his singular dream preceded that fight.  Victory did not always follow his dream, but the event and results were important.  He had no doubt that a battle had taken place or was about being fought, ’and Johnston will be beaten, for I had this strange dream again last night.  It must relate to Sherman; my thoughts are in that direction, and I know of no other very important event which is likely just now to occur.’” “Great events,” adds Mr. Welles in his Diary, “did indeed follow; for within a few hours the good and gentle as well as truly great man who narrated his dream closed forever his earthly career.”

After the Cabinet meeting the President took a drive with Mrs. Lincoln, expressing a wish that no one should accompany them.  His heart was filled with a solemn joy, which awoke memories of the past to mingle with hopes for the future; and in this subdued moment he desired to be alone with the one who stood nearest to him in human relationship.  In the course of their talk together, he said:  “Mary, we have had a hard time of it since we came to Washington; but the war is over, and with God’s blessing we may hope for four years of peace and happiness, and then we will go back to Illinois and pass the rest of our lives in quiet.”  He spoke, says Mr. Arnold, “of his old Springfield home; and recollections of his early days, his little brown cottage, the law office, the court room, the green bag for his briefs and law papers, his adventures when riding the circuit, came thronging back to him.  The tension under which he had for so long been kept was removed, and he was like a boy out of school.  ‘We have laid by,’ said he to his wife, ’some money, and during this term we will try and save up more, but shall not have enough to support us.  We will go back to Illinois, and I will open a law office at Springfield or Chicago, and practise law, and at least do enough to help give us a livelihood.’  Such were the dreams, the day-dreams of Lincoln, on the last day of his earthly life.”